#papa emeritus prompt

[bupia]

Hi hi!! For the prompts list, can we have the nighttime 10 and 13?? PS I love you lots and lots -Molly 💜

Going to bed at night: Terzo, Papa Emeritus III.

"You're about to fall asleep on your feet." "Will you stay with me?"

As Terzo strolled down the hallways, a solitary beam of light caught his attention, seeping through a partially ajar door at the end of the long corridor. It was his office, a place where you and him had spent numerous hours engaged in what he jokingly referred to as "lessons."

He quietly approached his office, where the soft glow of the desk lamp cast a warm, amber light across the corridor. As he peaked inside, he noticed you sleeping on his chair. Your head was tilted to the side, suspended in the air. As he drew closer, he noticed a stack of papers scattered on his desk, some filled with texts and others adorned with sketches.

He couldn't help but smile. You were such a good assistant, always doing your best to fulfill the requirements of the clergy, and take care of his needs.

"Sorella..." he called for you in a whisper. "Sorella... you're about to fall asleep on your feet." his hand reached for your face, holding it, caressing your cheek.

As Terzo gently called your name, slowly, your eyelids fluttered open, and you found yourself looking into Terzo's caring eyes. His touch on your cheek was warm and comforting.

"Terzo," you murmured, your voice still laced with sleep. "I must have dozed off. I apologize."

He smiled at you. "No need to apologize, Sorella. You work tirelessly, and you deserve a moment of rest. But it seems you've been quite occupied while I was away."

"I... I wanted to organize some thoughts and ideas," you explained, glancing down at the papers. "I didn't mean to fall asleep." Your cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment.

"No problem, sorella. But how about I accompany you back to your dormitory?" he suggested, his voice gentle and comforting.

You nodded, feeling too exhausted to form a coherent response. With a gentle sway of his arm, he lifted you from the chair, cradling you in his embrace. Nestling your head against his shoulder, you found solace in his presence. Terzo's steps were steady and smooth as he carried you through the familiar halls. Occasionally, his hold would tighten, ensuring your stability as he deftly maneuvered through the corridors.

Hearing the door open, a sense of relief washed over you, knowing that soon you would find the comfort of your own bed. As Terzo gently laid you down onto a remarkably soft mattress, you couldn't help but notice that it felt different from the one in your dormitory.

"Terzo... Where am I?" you asked.

"Oh, cara, I hope you don't mind, but we are in my quarters," he replied, "it was closer from my office than your dormitory."

Your eyes widened in surprise as you quickly sat up on the bed, watching him undress. "W-What? No! Terzo!" you protested, attempting to get up from the bed, but he firmly held onto your arm, pulling you back towards him.

"Stay," he murmured, his gaze locked with yours. "Will you stay with me?"

Your heart raced as you looked into his eyes. You hesitated for a brief moment, your mind filled with conflicting thoughts. But you gazed at Terzo, seeing the genuine affection in his eyes.

"Yes, Terzo. I'll stay with you." With a soft smile, you gave him your answer.

A look of relief washed over his face as he mirrored your action, guiding you back to his bed and lying down beside you.

"Sleep now, cara," he whispered.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to relax. . With Terzo by your side, you felt a deep sense of contentment, allowing yourself to sleep with him this night.

There's a little continuation here

[kroas-adtam]

Kinktober 2024

Here it is my ghoulfriends! Now remember, you can chose one, both or none! Do one every day, one a week or just one! They’re great writing warmups in my experience, and don’t stress yourself out too much with them. Kinktober is supposed to be fun, so have the wildest, wettest fun this month, and tag me in it all!

if you have any questions, dont hesitate to ask!

List compiled with help by @forlorn-crows, @coffeeghoulie, @jimothybarnes, and others whom I can’t find buried in my inboxes!

Be sure to share over and over again so we can get all our depraved ghoulfriends to see this!

[kissingghouls]

Request to write a little snippet of Terzo comforting someone who’s a hot drunk mess?

Hello anon 💜 I'm so sorry for the wait. I know you asked for a snippet.... but... I started this and I kind of can't leave these two alone now. soo... sorry if this turns into a fully developed fic later ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

A Confession - Terzo x f!Reader 1300 words, drunk reader, comfort Terzo. div by @gothdaddyissues

Papa Secondo’s birthday party was the ministry event of the year, and this year was no exception. There was pyro, a champagne tower, and they turned the entire nave into a dance floor for fuck’s sake! It was an elaborate, Gatsby-esque affair that would be talked about around the abbey for months. If not until the next birthday party rolled around.

Not that you had seen any of it.

This time, you’d let yourself go a little too far. You were well and truly drunk two drinks ago—and you knew better, knew you’d be past your limit and better judgement. But you kept going because “fuck it, why not?” was basically the secondary theme for any of Secondo’s parties.  Before you knew it, you were lost in that blissful feeling of feeling nothing save for a buzz on your skin and the warm wave of contentedness that radiated out from your stomach.

That euphoric feeling was short-lived—quickly replaced by the need to sit down and close your eyes for a second. And maybe eat something. Or maybe never eat again.

That was how you found yourself on all fours under a random toilet, praying to every devil you’d heard of that things would just stop spinning. You had no memory of walking to a bathroom, no memory of sinking to the floor or letting the little hexagonal tiles bite into the skin of your knees. Even if you had remembered, things were too blurry to recognize exactly where you’d ended up.

At least it was clean.

Your friends were probably looking for you, if they’d even noticed you were gone. Or maybe they hadn’t. Maybe they were having a good time without you, laughing and dancing and maybe— Awful thoughts began to cloud your mind, a cruel, little voice pulling all your fears and insecurities to the choppy surface of your alcohol-soaked brain. Your stomach burned. Your eyes burned. And your mouth did that terrible tingly-watery thing, and you could feel each of your teeth.

Fuck.

“Oh! Uh, hello Sorella.”

You lost your balance as you spun around, landing your ass on the cold floor with your skirt around your hips. Looking up through teary eyes—when did you start crying? –you found a very confused and concerned Papa Terzo Emeritus standing in the doorway. He cocked his head, a gloved hand still over his heart from the shock of finding you.

Fuck, he was so fucking beautiful.

“Um, hi Papa,” you mumbled pathetically, desperate to gather the coordination to pull your skirt back down.

“Is everything—who did this to you?”

“Huh?”

He knelt beside you and placed a hand under your chin, urging you to look at him. “Which idiota has made you cry?”

“Oh, um…” You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, trying to organize your thoughts. You didn’t remember crying—couldn’t remember if someone else had started it. If the world could just stop maybe you could concentrate. Maybe if it wasn’t stupid, perfect, beautiful Terzo asking you could think. “No one, well, I mean…I guess I did, but it’s not—I just—I’m drunk. Too drunk. I’m so sorry, Papa.”

“What do you have to be sorry about, stellina mia? Indulgence is kind of what we do, is it not?”

“Well, s-sure,” you hiccupped. “But this isn’t. This is…embarrassing.”

“Ah, well,” he began, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re in my private bathroom. Do you think I haven’t gotten drunk and cried in here? It’s happened at least twice. Maybe three times even.”

You giggled hard until your stomach began to turn. “Don’t make me laugh,” you whined before realizing who you were still talking to. “Please, Papa.”

He settled on the floor next to you. “How can I help?”

You shook your head and rushed to stand, ignoring the way the world seemed to tilt and shift under your feet. “You don’t—I should go. I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, shh, stellina. Please sit down, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Okay,” you agreed and sank back to the floor.

To your surprise, Terzo pulled you closer and guided you to lay down. He didn’t seem to care that your head landed in his lap or that your wet, smudgy face was going to leave marks on his nice trousers. He simply began to hum and run his fingers through your hair, a soothing motion that made your eyelids feel heavy. The tune was familiar, something you knew but couldn’t place. It was soft yet heavy like the velvet curtains that hung in his office, warm like that secret sunny spot in the library. It worked like magic, the gentleness of his touch and the timbre of his voice calming your fears and your unbalanced thoughts as he hummed one of his songs—Yes! That was how you knew the song! How could you forget something so—

“This is better, sì?” he asked softly, his fingers still gently dancing through your hair.

How long had you been here? Did you fall asleep in Terzo’s lap? You had to admit it did feel pretty nice.

“Mmhmm,” you mumbled in agreement, unable to move from your new favorite spot.

“Bene. You relax now, stellina. I promise the feeling will pass and soon you will feel like yourself again.”

You groaned and folded your arms around your legs. “What if I don’t want to be myself anymore?”

“Oh? Who else could you be?”

“I dunno. Someone else, I guess. Someone you’d like.”

“What if I like you as you are?”

“Yeah okay,” you replied sarcastically.

“You don’t believe me? You would call your Papa a liar?” he teased.

“No! Of course not! It’s just…I dunno…why would he…” You shook your head as the train of thought left you completely. “Hang on, wait, what are we talking about?”

He laughed lightly, giving your arm a little squeeze. “We were discussing how I like you.”

“Oh.”

“Something wrong, stellina?”

“No…it’s just…” Your stomach flipped as your tried to find the words. It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. Your brain felt like three different jigsaw puzzles all trying to create a coherent picture—an impossible task that only added up to the one person you didn’t mind thinking about. His hair. His eyes. The soft kind smile he’d offer when he passed you in the halls.

“That’s really sweet of you, but I…I like someone else,” you finally managed.

“Ah, I see.”

“I’m sorry. I know it sounds so silly and juvenile and I probably don’t have a chance in the world, but I have a terrible crush on Papa Terzo and I—oh Lucifer’s balls! I’m so drunk. Fuck. You can’t tell him, ok? Promise me you won’t tell him!”

“Tell who?”

“Terzo.”

“I—You like Terzo?” he asked slowly. “As in more than friends?”

You pressed your face against his thigh and made a wounded sound. “I know, I know. It sounds so fucking stupid to say it out loud—”

“It’s not stupid, stellina. Perhaps you should consider telling him how you feel?”

“Maybe you should shut up,” you groaned as everything began to spin again. “Maybe I should shut up.”

“I promise not to tell him,” he assured you. “But what if he feels the same way, hmm?”

“He doesn’t. Why would he?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Look at me. I’m a fucking mess.”

“You think he’s not?”

You sighed dreamily. “No, he’s perfect.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Not like, perfect perfect. But he’s perfect, ok? Perfect in a way that only Terzo could be.”

“Stellina,” he whispered cautiously. “I can assure you I have many flaws.”

“Don’t care,” you mumbled sleepily. “Still like you.”

“Stellina, I like you, too.”

You let out a tiny “yay” and gave him a thumbs up.

“Would it be ok if I told you this again when you might remember it?”

You yawned loudly and burrowed deeper into his lap. “You can tell me anything.”

“Do you promise, stellina?”

You reached up, waving your hand around until you found his and hooked your pinky fingers together. “Promise.”

-x-

still working on all my other WIPs. Hoping to have some vampire Primo for you soon....[and more Mary Goore shhh] 💜

[foxybouquet]

𝔾𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣, 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟟: 𝕊𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝕊𝕚𝕟!

From HystericMuse’s Prompt list.

I guess I’ve always somewhat assumed that the Siblings of Sin either possessed or learned certain magic in the Ministry, so for better or worse, an image of necromancy came to me for this prompt. Welcome back, Papa Emeritus III.

90% digital art (the lineart is traditional and scanned).

[her-satanic-wiles]

Kinktober Day 5 - Piss Kink

Papa Emeritus IV x Reader

The head of the Satanic Church is a bit of a loser sometimes, but he’s your loser, and you love to torment him.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 5k.

Reading Time: 20 min.

Warnings: anal fingering, creampie, cum eating, cunnilingus, fellatio, humiliation, kink discovery, mild dubcon, (he wants to, but it’s irresponsible of him), multiple orgasms, non-discussed kinks, omorashi, oral sex, overstimulation, piss kink, PIV sex, praise kink, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, water sports

Taglist: @akayuki56 @alien-the-ghost @amazing-bobinsky @angellayercake @anonymous-appreciation @babydestinyinfluencer @bitchywitchygardener @blossomsea @call-me-little-sunshine84 @copiaspet622 @copiasslut @cosmixxdust @da-rulah @dolceterzo @dopey-fandom-girl @faithisyours @ghoulishxdelights @high-above-the-city @howlingco @inkstainedrat @kaijukimchi @kenken-the-shoggoth @ledger-kaos @magopi @megachaoticstupid @meliza1001 @miss-leto @mommy-dust @neganwifey25-blog @piaart @saintbowie @shycardinale @sisterof-sin @sodoswitchimage @the-did-i-ask @xiyingly @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

The moonlight spilled through the curtains, casting ghostly shadows across the dimly lit room where Papa Emeritus IV sat, his posture slouched and a frown marring his otherwise regal features. He looked like a king without his crown, an air of defeat clinging to him as he absentmindedly fiddled with the intricate rings on his fingers. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight; beneath the menacing facade of the head of the Satanic Church lay your favorite loser, a man who often took himself far too seriously when he was offstage. Tonight, you felt particularly mischievous, ready to push his buttons and make him squirm in ways only you could.

He didn’t hear you enter his office, nose too busy buried in the stacks of paper to take heed to his surroundings. You walked behind his chair, leaning against the plushness and running your hands down his soft chest, making him jump at your touch.

“Ah, schricchio,” he said through a shaky voice. “I didn’t hear you come in, amore mio.”

“‘m sneaky like that,” you replied, voice low and tempting. You kissed the side of his cheek, before moving your lips up to his ear and nibbling at the skin there. You continued to rub your hands over his chest, massaging his body beneath his robes.

“Amore,” Copia breathed out, voice lost in the feeling of your affection. “I am too busy.”

“I know, my Papa is so stressed, though. My Papa needs to be taken care of. Don’t you want that?”

“I do. Sathanas, I do. But-”

You began to press kisses to his neck.

“Work calls, sì? I-uh… Ah, piccola tentatrice, mi fai venire voglia di fare cose cattive con te.” The groan he let out was sinful and low.

“Let me take care of you, Papa.” You moved your hand over his chubby stomach, and clutched at his crotch, his length hardening very rapidly under your touch.

Lord Below, he wanted you so badly. He wanted you to absolutely devour him in his office, work be damned. But Sister Imperator would have his head if he didn’t complete his tasks and he was already skating on thin enough ice.

You could feel the tension in his body, a mix of desire and duty, and it only fueled your resolve. “I promise, just a little break. You’ll be able to focus afterward,” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin. You could see the battle in his eyes, a flicker of temptation battling against the weight of responsibility.

“Copia, you can’t possibly think you’ll get any work done like this,” you purred, your fingers teasingly working their way up and into the waistband of his trousers, pressing lightly, just enough to elicit a sharp inhale. “Let me help you clear your mind. Just for a moment.”

With a frustrated growl, he leaned back into you, surrendering to the sweet distraction you offered. “Sathanas, you’re incorrigible,” he murmured, but the slight hitch in his breath revealed the truth. You took that as your cue to continue, your hands slipping beneath his robes and feeling the warmth of his skin against your fingertips.

“Perhaps a little indulgence is just what you need,” you teased, your lips brushing against his neck, your fingers exploring, coaxing him to forget the mountains of paperwork and the stern gaze of Sister Imperator. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Fine,” he breathed, a hint of resignation lacing his words. “Just this once.”

You pulled his office chair from underneath his desk, getting on your knees in front of him. You looked positively sinful down there on the hard, wooden floor, so eager and desperate to please your Papa. It made him stiffen below his jeans, ache for more of your touch. He wanted you so fucking badly.

You traced your index and middle finger up over those sumptuous, thick thighs, as if you were walking your hand up to his button and zipper. The goofiness made him chuckle, but he was absolutely mesmerised by you. Couldn’t get enough of you.

His chuckle was deep and rich, a sound that sent heat pooling in your stomach. You took your time, enjoying the way his breath hitched as you deliberately shifted closer, your lips grazing his thigh as you let the jeans slip further down. The playful tugging and teasing brought forth an ache in him, an urgency that left him completely at your mercy.

His clothing pooled at his ankles, hard cock standing to full attention, head red and leaking and so ready for your touch.

“Just a little indulgence, remember?” you replied sweetly, your fingers dancing over his exposed skin, exploring and teasing. “Let me remind you how good it feels to let go.”

With a teasing smile, you leaned forward, your breath hot against his skin as you placed soft kisses along his thighs, lingering just above where he wanted you most. The anticipation hung in the air, thick and intoxicating, as you slowly wrapped your lips around the tip of his length, feeling him pulse against your tongue.

“Ah, piccola tentatrice,” he groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair as he watched you. The mix of adoration and desperation in his gaze spurred you on. You swirled your tongue around him, taking your time to savor every reaction, every shudder that passed through his body.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and innocent, a stark contrast to the wickedness of the moment. “Just like that, amore,” he encouraged, his voice a throaty whisper, urging you to take him deeper.

Feeling emboldened, you did just that, hollowing your cheeks as you slid your mouth down, enveloping him completely. The taste of him sent a rush of warmth through you, igniting a fire that made you crave him even more. You set a rhythm, pulling back only to take him in again, the soft sounds of your efforts mingling with his breathy moans.

“Sathanas, you’re so good at this,” he praised, his voice thick with lust as he fought the urge to thrust into your mouth. The way he looked at you, lost in pleasure and overwhelmed with desire, only drove you further. You knew exactly how to torment him, and you were more than happy to oblige.

He gently rested his hand in your hair, trying to resist the urge to tug and hurt you - despite how many times you told him that he could. He tipped his head back at the feel of the tip of your tongue licking over his frenulum, a gentle touch that had his toes curling in his shoes. All the while, wanton and desperate moans fell from his lips, mixed with Italian expletives that shot heat right to your core. He was putty in your hands, nothing but melted ice cream where a man used to sit. His reactions to your mouth on him was always the best thing about being on your knees for him.

Heavy breaths led to his chest rising and falling violently, his other hand white knuckling against the arm rests doing his best to keep himself grounded but failing utterly miserably.

“C-cazzo,” he hissed at a particularly strong suck from you. “Amore, you’re going to kill me.”

You could feel his body trembling under your ministrations, every gasp and moan only fueling your desire to tease him further. His gentle grip in your hair was both a restraint and an invitation, and you leaned into it, wanting him to lose himself completely in the pleasure you were giving.

“Good,” you murmured around him, the vibrations sending a shiver through his body as you pulled back for a moment to catch your breath. You wrapped your hand around him, continuing to stroke him and pleasure him while you were taking a short rest. The sight of him—his flushed cheeks, the way his lips parted in desperation—was a heady rush, making your heart race. You loved having this power over him, seeing how easily you could unravel the mighty Papa Emeritus IV.

You licked from base to tip before putting your little finger in your mouth and smothering it in your saliva, continuing to pump him and twist just like he loved. Then, without warning, you slipped your little finger inside him.

You could feel his body tense at the sudden intrusion, a mixture of shock and pleasure flickering across his face. “W-what are you—?” he stammered, caught off guard by your boldness. But there was no time for questions as you continued to stroke him, your movements fluid and deliberate, coaxing him to relax around your finger.

He gasped, a sound laced with disbelief and unexpected pleasure, and you watched, entranced, as his expression morphed into something purely primal. “Amore, I—” he started, but the words faltered as another wave of ecstasy rolled through him, his body responding instinctively to your ministrations.

And then, it happened. You felt it—a warm rush that spilled over your fingers as he involuntarily let go, the force of it catching him by surprise. His eyes widened in shock, and you froze for a moment, both of you processing the unexpected turn of events. The flow stopped as soon as it started, only a little bit spilling onto your hands. But by that point it was too late, the damage had already been done and you both knew exactly what had happened. Shame flitted across his features, but the thrill of it quickly overshadowed any lingering embarrassment.

“Oh, merda,” he breathed, his face flushed beneath his paints with a mix of humiliation and undeniable pleasure. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Does it feel good, Papa?” you teased, the smirk on your face playful yet wicked. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Look at you, completely at my mercy. Such a powerful man reduced to nothing more than a desperate mess for me.”

He bit his lip, the shame battling against the pleasure coursing through him. “I shouldn’t… but it’s—”

“Exactly,” you purred, relishing the power you held over him. “You can’t help yourself, can you? The mighty Papa Emeritus IV, trembling and leaking for me. You love being my little toy, don’t you?”

His breath came in quick gasps as he realized just how intoxicating this was, the thrill of surrendering to his desires washing over him like a tidal wave. “Please, I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” you whispered, leaning in closer. You let go of his cock and let it hang there desperate, wet and needy. “Can’t control yourself? Can’t resist how good it feels? Just admit it, you’re loving every second of this.”

“Sathanas, you’re going to kill me,” he panted, the contradiction of his words lost in the fervor of the moment. The shame was still there, but so was the undeniable pleasure, and he found himself wanting more, caught in a web of ecstasy and indulgence that you had so expertly woven around him.

“Hold it in,” you ordered him. “Don’t let any more out until I tell you.”

He nodded at your instructions like a good boy, so eager to please you. You stood and pulled your tights down along with your underwear, the cold air hitting your wet centre as you stepped out of your clothes, lifted your habit, and straddled his lap. The soft leather of his office chair stuck to your warm skin as you made yourself comfortable on top of your lover. You captured him in a kiss, a desperate kiss on his end mostly. He needed you so badly. You bit his bottom lip, earning a groan from him.

You reached in between your bodies and grasped onto his thickness, rubbing it through your folds once, twice, then three times, closing your eyes and letting out a soft, teasing moan at the feel of his cock rubbing against your clit, offering you some kind of pleasure. Then, you placed him at your entrance and slotted him inside.

As you sank down onto him, a delicious wave of pleasure coursed through you, and a breathy gasp escaped your lips. The sensation of his fullness inside you was electric, and you reveled in the way he filled you completely, the mix of desire and control palpable between you. “You’re doing so well, Papa,” you praised, your voice low and sultry as you began to rock your hips, finding a rhythm that made both of you moan.

He gripped your waist tightly, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he struggled to hold back the waves of pleasure threatening to overwhelm him. “I c-can’t hold it in mu-uh! Much long… er,” he confessed, his voice strained and thick with need. “Please, a-amore…”

“Just a little longer,” you urged, your breath hitching as you moved against him, feeling the heat radiate between your bodies. “Mmm, fuck! You want to be a good boy for me, don’t you? I know you can do it.”

He nodded, eyes darkened with lust, but the tension in his body told you he was teetering on the edge. “You’re so-oh tight,” he gasped, his head falling back against the chair, unable to keep his composure. The sight of him, utterly at your mercy, only spurred you on.

With each roll of your hips, you could feel the heat coiling tighter within you, every movement a symphony of pleasure and torment. You leaned down, capturing his lips in another desperate kiss, swallowing his moans as you pushed him closer to the brink.

“Let me hear you,” you urged, pulling back to look into his eyes, watching as he struggled to hold back his cries. “You’re my good boy. Show me how much you need this.”

With that, you picked up the pace, grinding down on him, reveling in the way his body responded, how he let out breathless moans mixed with desperate pleas. The tension between pleasure and restraint danced in the air, and you could feel him slipping closer to the edge.

“Please, I can’t—” he gasped, his words a mix of desperation and surrender, the shame of losing control mingling with the ecstasy that washed over him.

“Then let go, Papa,” you coaxed, your voice dripping with seduction. “I want you to feel everything. Don’t hold back. Not anymore.”

He bit his lip and nodded gently, unable to string any sentences together anymore. He concentrated on the feeling of your walls around him, the pleasure it was bringing him, and the tingling he felt in his own body. His full bladder, the thing he’d ignored for hours now, screaming at him to let go. And so he did.

His mouth dropped open as he emptied his bladder, making you gasp at the feel of it flooding your core. The moment he let go, warmth spread between you, enveloping him in an unexpected rush of ecstasy. A gasp tore from his throat as the sensation washed over him—both the relief of release and the intoxicating thrill of letting go in such an intimate way. The warmth filled you, a stream of pleasure mingling with the heat of his release as he filled you completely.

You felt the liquid warmth spill into you, mixing with the pulsing heat of your own desire, and a moan escaped your lips, a sound of pure bliss. “Yes, Papa, just like that,” you encouraged, your body responding to his in a delicious rhythm, both of you lost in the overwhelming pleasure of the moment.

He could feel it trickle down his cock and pool onto the leather beneath his naked thighs, spreading the warmth there too and making his balls tighten. He was so close now, so close to spilling his cum inside you after he’d pissed all over you both. The thought of it had him bucking his hips upward, too, meeting your thrusts in a desperate bid to cum as hard as he could, at this point now using your body for his own pleasure.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, a mix of shame and exhilaration in his voice, but you could see the pleasure dancing in his eyes, the way he reveled in the sensation, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Don’t be,” you murmured, your voice low and sultry as you captured his gaze. “You’re mine, remember? Just let go and enjoy it.”

The warmth enveloping you both only heightened the intimacy, and as you continued to grind down on him, the sensations twisted and turned, igniting every nerve in your body. The thrill of what had just happened lingered, and it was as if the heat of his release awakened something deeper inside him.

With every roll of your hips, the pressure inside him grew more intense, the combination of pleasure and humiliation overwhelming him. “I can’t believe I just did that,” he breathed, his voice shaky, yet filled with a sense of urgency. “I shouldn’t… it’s so wrong.”

“But it felt so good, didn’t it?” you teased, leaning closer, brushing your lips against his ear, your voice dripping with seduction. “You loved it. You’re such a needy boy, so desperate for my touch.”

His cheeks flushed even deeper, a mix of embarrassment and pleasure painting his features. “You’re g-going to… ruin m-me,” he gasped, gripping your hips tighter as if holding onto sanity itself.

“Good,” you whispered, picking up the pace again, grinding down harder. “I want to ruin you. Let go, Papa. I want to see you fall apart for me.”

The words ignited a fire within him, and he could feel his climax nearing, driven by the intoxicating combination of sensations. “I… I can’t hold it any… anymore,” he admitted, his voice breaking as he gave in to the pleasure coursing through him. “You’re m-making me feel so go-od, amore mio.”

“Come for me, Papa,” you encouraged, a wicked smile dancing on your lips. “Let yourself go completely. You’re my good boy, and I want to see you lose yourself in this. I wanna feel you come inside me.”

With a final thrust, he surrendered to the waves of ecstasy crashing over him. A deep, guttural groan escaped his lips as he climaxed, filling you with a rush of warmth that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body. The moan that tore from him was raw and unrestrained, echoing in the dimly lit office like a confession of his deepest desires.

“Merda, I’m such a mess,” he panted, panting, his voice a mix of exhilaration and lingering shame, but you could see the satisfaction in his eyes.

“Exactly,” you replied, your voice teasing and soft. “You’re my delicious little mess, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. You’ve never been more beautiful than you are right now, completely undone for me.”

His eyes were hooded over, entirely sleepy from the exertion, until he realised something. “You didn’t come did you, schricchio?”

You kissed his forehead, the sweat that sat on there had wiped away some of his paints and it came off on your lips. You wiped it off discreetly. “No, but that’s okay, my love.” You ran your hand through his hair. “Later.”

He shook his head. “Now, amore. Can you get on my desk?”

“Your papers!”

“Fottiti i documenti. I want to make you feel like you made me. Get on the desk, please.”

You couldn’t resist him, especially as your own core was pulsing with such need it felt like you were about to explode.

With a playful grin, you stood from his lap, the cool air washing over your flushed skin as you made your way to his desk. The scattered papers lay forgotten in the haze of passion, but you could feel the fire igniting in his eyes, the way he watched your every move with an intensity that made your heart race.

“Now that’s more like it,” he murmured, a smirk playing on his lips as you perched yourself on the edge of the desk. You leaned back slightly, allowing your body to settle comfortably against the polished surface, your core pulsing with the need for more. The tension in the air was thick, charged with the remnants of your earlier encounter.

“Are you going to keep me waiting, Papa?” you teased, your voice low and inviting, fingers dancing over the smooth wood, feeling the coolness against your heated skin.

He didn’t need any further encouragement. With fierce determination, he moved closer, kneeling before you, his eyes dark with desire. His hands found your thighs, spreading them apart gently as he leaned in, his breath warm against your core. “Not a chance, amore,” he replied, voice thick with lust and eagerness.

As his lips brushed against your skin, you gasped, the sensation sending shivers coursing through your body. He took his time, savoring the moment, placing soft kisses along your inner thighs, inching ever closer to your glistening heat. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, gaze locking onto yours, filled with raw need. “I want to taste you, feel you fall apart for me.”

“Please,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper, need building within you as you shifted on the desk, desperate for more contact. “I need you.”

He didn’t waste another moment. His tongue flicked out, teasing your sensitive folds, and a moan escaped your lips, echoing in the stillness of the room. The warmth and wetness of his mouth enveloped you, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your core. He worked you expertly, his tongue dancing between gentle licks and tantalizing sucks, drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

His movements were slow and deliberate, as if he were memorizing every inch of you. The sensation of his tongue gliding over your sensitive clit made you squirm, every stroke igniting flames of pleasure that shot through your body. “Fuck, yes,” you gasped, fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on. “Just like that, Papa. Don’t… stop.”

“Good girl,” he murmured against you, his breath sending delicious vibrations through your body, and you could feel the heat pooling in your belly, the delicious ache growing stronger with every flick of his tongue. It was as if he had unlocked a part of you that craved his every touch, every lick sending you spiraling deeper into bliss.

He alternated between licking and sucking, his mouth working you with a mastery that left you breathless. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you in place, and you could feel every pulse of his tongue against your core, each movement pushing you closer to the precipice of ecstasy. The way he devoted himself to you, the way his eyes sparkled with delight as he feasted on you, sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your veins.

“C’mon, amore mio,” he encouraged, his voice husky with desire. “Let go, let me taste every part of you.”

With every desperate plea and moan that escaped your lips, he intensified his efforts, his tongue swirling and flicking in a way that made your entire body hum with pleasure. You could feel your legs beginning to shake, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you, like a spring ready to snap.

You felt his tongue dip into your entrance, gathering his spend and sucking it down like it was the most delicious food, cleaning you out. It was so primal, so filthy, it made your stomach tighten and more wetness to flood your core.

“Please, I’m so close,” you gasped, your breath hitching in your throat, the world outside fading into oblivion as you focused solely on the sensations he was eliciting.

“Good,” he murmured, and you could hear the grin in his voice as he applied more pressure with his mouth, his tongue teasing your entrance, his lips kissing the sensitive skin surrounding you. “Let it all out for me.”

His encouragement sent you spiraling, and your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer as the waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your body trembled with anticipation, the sweet ache of needing to release building to an almost unbearable peak. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, lost in the way he worshipped your body, the way he made you feel desired and cherished.

“Let go, let me taste you,” he coaxed, his voice low and sultry, and with a final flick of his tongue against your most sensitive spot, you felt the dam break. Waves of pleasure washed over you, pulling you under in a tide of ecstasy. A cry tore from your lips, a sound of pure bliss and release, as you came undone on his desk.

The pleasure was overwhelming, a brilliant explosion of sensations that left you breathless. Every nerve in your body tingled, and the room seemed to spin as he coaxed every last drop of pleasure from you. You could feel the warmth of his mouth enveloping you, drinking in your release, savoring every moment as your body quivered beneath the waves of your climax.

As you rode the waves of pleasure, he didn’t let up. He continued to lap at your core, drinking in your essence, his tongue dancing over your sensitive folds, prolonging your release. Each gentle flick sent another shiver down your spine, keeping you teetering on the edge of bliss, and the combination of overstimulation and desire sent you spiraling further into ecstasy.

“Shit, Papa, it’s too much,” you whimpered, half-heartedly trying to push him away, but your body betrayed you, your hips instinctively rolling toward his mouth, craving more of the delicious sensations he was giving.

“Just a little more, amore,” he murmured against you, and the vibrations of his voice sent another wave of pleasure coursing through your body. “I want to feel you come again.”

With renewed determination, he intensified his efforts, his tongue swirling and teasing, driving you higher. The world around you blurred as you focused solely on the pleasure he was giving you, your mind consumed with the exquisite sensations, the overwhelming intimacy of the moment.

The oversensitivity was overwhelming; every flick of his tongue against your swollen clit sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body. You could feel your legs shaking, your breath coming in quick gasps as you fought to stay grounded. It was almost too much to handle, the line between pleasure and pain blurring in the best way possible. Your fingers tangled deeper in his hair, urging him closer even as you tried to pull away from the intensity.

“Please, Papa,” you whimpered, your voice a mix of desperation and ecstasy. “I can’t… I can’t take much more.”

“Shh, just breathe, amore mio,” he soothed, his eyes glimmering with mischief and devotion. “Let it wash over you.”

He continued his delicious assault, his tongue dancing over you with renewed fervor. Each swirl and flick pushed you closer to the edge, pulling you further into that intoxicating abyss of pleasure. The warmth of his mouth, the gentle pressure of his lips, and the way he seemed to worship you made it impossible to think straight. You were utterly consumed by sensation, drowning in the pleasure he was giving you.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he began to hum softly, the vibrations sending you spiraling into another layer of bliss. A loud moan escaped your lips, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room, and you could feel the heat flooding your cheeks as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure.

“C’mon, let go for me, schricchio,” he urged, his voice thick with desire, and you felt your body responding to him instinctively, every nerve ending igniting in anticipation. “I want to taste you again.”

With a few more skillful flicks of his tongue, you could feel the familiar tightening in your belly, the delicious ache building once more. You were teetering on the edge, caught between the ecstasy of his mouth and the desperate need for release.

“Papa, I’m so close,” you gasped, the words tumbling from your lips like a prayer. Your body was on fire, and you could feel that tension coiling tighter, ready to snap.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that made your heart race. “Just a little more, amore. I’m right here with you.”

He resumed his rhythm, lapping at you with fervor, pushing you closer and closer to that precipice.

As you felt another peak approaching, you couldn’t hold back any longer. Your body tightened around him, and you surrendered once more, gasping out his name as the second wave of pleasure crashed over you. The bliss was intoxicating, washing over you in a torrent of ecstasy that left you breathless.

As the tremors of pleasure subsided, he looked up at you, a satisfied smile gracing his lips, glistening with the remnants of your bliss. “You taste divine, schricchio,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief and admiration, and you couldn’t help but return his grin, heart racing as you pulled him closer for a lingering kiss. “You’re so hot when you come.”

As he stood up and hovered over you, you felt his hard cock poke against your centre again and laughed. “The first time wasn’t enough, Papa?” you teased.

“It was until I heard those sinful moans of yours, amore. Now I want to ravage you completely.”

You kissed him again, your tongue sliding into his mouth. You widened your legs, allowing him to come closer to your body. “Please, Papa,” you whimpered. “I want you to fuck me again.”

“As my lady commands,” he replied, sinking himself into your heat once more and dropping his head to the crook of your neck.

As he began to move within you, the world outside faded completely, leaving only the two of you lost in a rhythm that was both primal and tender. With each thrust, he filled you completely, igniting every nerve in your body anew and sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. You clung to him, whispering his name like a prayer, savoring the intoxicating blend of urgency and connection that enveloped you both. Time seemed to stand still as you melted into one another, the boundaries of your souls blurring in the throes of passion, leaving you breathless and utterly fulfilled as you surrendered to the blissful chaos of your desires again… and again until you were both satisfied.

Translations:

Ah, piccola tentatrice, mi fai venire voglia di fare cose cattive con te = Ah, you little temptress, making me want to do bad things to you.

Piccola tentatrice = little tempress.

Fottiti i documenti = fuck the papers/documents.

Prev./Next

[ink-and-dagger]

54 for some possessive terzo maybe? There's way too much good stuff on that list it's hard to choose

Will you take some soft possessive Terzo? I sure hope so cuz that’s what I’ve written

Papa Emeritus iii x Reader || Smut drabble || Soft possessive Terzo || Wedding night || Love-making || NSFW || MDNI

Read on AO3

Fuck Midjourney. Fuck OpenAI. And fuck Tumblr for selling out.

[farter-imperator]

Cirrus in techwear? Cirrus in techwear.

[mayhemspreadingguy]

Drawtober Prompt 6 • Ghostly Ballroom

While drawing this I was thinking about the song "He Is" to accompany this piece.

[cowboyemeritus]

Day 1

Prompt: Cucking

Pairing: Copia/Reader/Aether

Tags: self explanatory

Notes: all hail Copia, king of the cuck chair

If you didn’t know any better, you would think Copia was about to pass away.

He’s absolutely wrecked. From his seat in the corner of the room, he has the perfect view. His paints are smeared, small rivulets of black trailing down from his sweaty temples. Pupils blown wide, he chews on his bottom lip. As the session has progressed, his left hand has slowly wormed its way into his pants, rubbing and stroking himself while Aether pounds you into the bed — his bed. His right hand grips the arm of the ornate lounge chair, knuckles blanched. He’s just as much a sight to behold as you are.

You’re lying on your side, back pressed into Aether’s ample chest. His strong arm is hooked around your leg, spreading you open for Copia’s viewing pleasure. His claws just barely dig into the soft flesh of your thigh, the small pinpricks of pain going straight to your core. Stretched wide around his massive cock, all you can do is grip the sheets as he fucks you, eyes trained on your watching lover in the corner. Your head is pleasantly fuzzy from the glass (or two) of wine the boys gave you before this all started, and it’s done its job calming your nerves and relaxing your body enough to accommodate the large ghoul.

“Nine Hells,” Aether says, shooting a glance in Copia’s direction. “She’s so fucking tight.“ From the chair, Copia groans, giving his bulge a squeeze.

“I know,” he sighs, head falling against the back of the chair. “Isn’t she perfect?” A little bit of embarrassment bubbles up on your stomach, and your face flushes. Aether must see this, because he chuckles softly. It’s a deep, rich sound, like honey to your ears. He hums in agreement.

“Never had pussy so good.” He chooses to punctuate this statement with a particularly brutal thrust, driving the head of his cock right into your sweet spot. You swear you can feel him in your teeth. “I can see why you’ve kept her to yourself for so long.” Suddenly sheepish, you bury your face in the pillow. It helps, a little, to muffle your pathetic moan. Being talked about like this, as if you’re some sort of object to be passed around, does things to you that you’re not proud of.

“Don’t get used to it,” Copia says. “This is a- Cazzo. This is a one-time thing.” Aether laughs again, this time fully. You can feel his chest rumble against your back.

“I think you like this a little more than you’re letting on, mate.” He leans in so that he’s right in your ear, warm breath tickling your neck. “Look at him, love. Don’t you think so?” Cracking an eye open, you’re met with the sight of Copia, cock in hand, his face scrunched up with delightful anguish as he strokes himself with vigor. In the dim lighting, you just barely catch the glint of a bead of precum forming at his tip. The display has your walls fluttering, mouth hanging agape. You feel loose, like your bones have turned to jelly, but manage to nod for Aether regardless. “This one certainly likes it.” 

Copia grumbles. “Is that true, minx?” His white eye is practically glowing, boring into your soul in a way that has you approaching your climax entirely too quickly. You swallow hard.

“Y-yes, Papa.” Copia hisses through his teeth, thumb swiping over the head of his cock.

“Greedy girl.” He sighs. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt every once in a while. But only as a treat.”

[leezlelatch]

Kiss Prompt - "I really, really want to kiss you right now" - Copia

Copia x GN!Reader - kiss prompt, insecurities, misunderstandings, Copia's surgery, smooching, worship of the white suit.

One and only prompt given to me and for my beloved @writingjourney.

“So we’re definitely keeping all the crotch shots, right?” You ask, flipping the photograph in your hand around so the antipope sitting across the room from you can see it. 

Copia cuts you a look before turning back to the document on his desk. You smirk to yourself, letting out a small huff of a laugh as you look back down to the stacks of photos on the small table you’re using as a workspace in his office. There are a lot of photographs that the immensely talented photographer for the Ghost Project takes for each Ritual, but they tend to…pile up. And you have been given the - frankly blessed - task of looking through photo after photo of Copia during the Prequelle era. From the Pale Tour Named Death to his ascendency as Papa Emeritus IV. 

Your primary task is to separate them into two organized piles. Ditch and keep. From the very vague instructions Sister Imperator gave you, it has something to do with the next tour and a mini museum. As tedious as your task is, you’ve really tried to separate each photo by suit. Black, red, and white, as well as two piles for the black and red cassock. It is so…fascinating to see Copia during a time when you didn’t know him. A time when becoming Papa was a dream he thought would never be realized. A time of facial hair and very attractive sideburns. 

“What happened to your suits, by the way?” You ask Copia, placing another picture in the keep pile which is significantly bigger than the ditch. Copia makes a small noise in the back of his throat, an indication that he’s thinking and that he needs to finish the paragraph he’s reading lest he lose his place. 

He places his finger down and looks in your direction, “In my closet. Toward the back. Getting acquainted with the dust bunnies.” 

“Even the white one?” You say, distraught as you bring your hands to your cheeks. 

Copia raises a brow at your theatrics, leaning forward on his elbow across the expanse of his desk as he regards you with an amused smile. “What has you so concerned, topolino?” His head tilts to the side in that natural curious way of his. 

“I just think that they…,” you pause as you choose your words carefully, eyes pointedly looking away from him. The blush painting your cheeks broadens his smile. “Have a little more wear to them.”

“Eh, well…they were good for, you know, my Cardinal days, but as Papa I have a much better wardrobe, don’t you think?” He pulls at his brocaded vest before adjusting the frilled sleeves at his wrists. 

“Oh, yeah! I’m just saying I really love the Prequelle era! You know it’s my favorite album, and your stage outfits were just so…I mean look at you…Copia?” You pause in your exuberance, one of the photographs in your hand, observing the frown crossing his lips that deepens with every word, made sharper by his face paint. 

His eyes fall to the picture in your hand, brow furrowing. His hand comes up to brush against his bare top lip, fingertips then finding the tip of his nose. His eyes seem to go hazy, pupils falling to pinpricks creating an expanse of green and white that looks through you and not quite at you. “Do you think I made a mistake?” He asks, his voice quiet, reaching you like a pot of scalding water against your skin. You place the photograph down on the desk, your own gaze wide as you look back at him. “Should I not have gotten this…,” he waves his hand around in front of his face. “Eh, facial?” 

“What?” You sound flabbergasted, confused. Concern etched across your features as you try and figure out what may have prompted him to ask such a question. 

“I can regrow the mustache! The sideburns may take a little work…,” Copia trails off as he touches his face again, deep in thought, his eyes dropping to the desktop. 

You close your eyes, cursing yourself for…you’re smarter than this. You know how Copia feels about the surgery. And here you are, gushing over Cardinal Copia when Papa Emeritus IV is in front of you, needing your support when he cannot get it elsewhere. He smiled, big and toothy, the day he returned from his ascension and you called him “Papa” for the first time. He looked grateful, however bruised and swollen, bandages across his nose when you expressed how glad you were that he wouldn’t have to suffer such severe nasal issues anymore. He once called you his strength. It wouldn’t do to fail him now.

“Copia. Just because you got a nose job and shaved doesn’t make you any less beautiful than you are in these photos. It’s still you. You still look like yourself. You’re still the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.” 

Your words seem to echo across his quiet office, and leave a silence in its wake. He’s looking at you again, lips parted, boring a hole into you with passionate and relieved eyes that make your cheeks flush. Copia stands from his desk and smooths his hands down his thighs, moving around the chair to carefully push it in before walking toward your small workspace. You stare up at him, unsure, and he flounders like a fish for a moment, mouth opening and closing.

“I really, really want to kiss you right now,” he finally says. 

You suck in a breath and look down, blinking before meeting his gaze once more. “Please.” 

Copia looks down at the little table piled with photos and promptly tips it over. The photographs go scattering, his former image fluttering to the floor like a cleansing rain, and then he’s on you. Pulling you up from the chair with steady, gloved hands, he draws you into his body, pressing flush against you as he claims your lips like he’s claiming a prize he has waited far too long for. Copia kisses you like a man who found an oasis in the desert, thoroughly licking into your mouth with abandon, capturing every noise you make with lips that nip and suck your bottom lip until it's swollen. He lets you take in a much needed breath only to continue across your jaw and down your neck, growling softly as he sucks a spot into your sensitive skin which he kitten licks before pulling away. 

You stare at each other, chests heaving. His paint is a mess, a slash of gray around his mouth, and you can only imagine what your mouth and neck looks like. Copia smiles, softly chuckling as his eyes rove over your kiss swollen lips. 

“Amore?” He questions softly, taking your hand in his. 

You smile. “I really, really want you to kiss me again.”

[bupia]

Hello ✨ could you please do 28, 29 and 36 with Copia? <3

Inexperienced Smut Prompts: Copia, Papa Emeritus IV

"Do that again." "I never knew you could make such sweet sounds." - "Me neither..." "I got you."

There’s a smut bellow the cut, +18 only, please. [fem!reader] (voyeurism and oral sex) — I guess I wrote a lot for this one.

You inhaled deeply before your hand grasped the doorknob to his office. This wasn't your first time entering his office; in fact, you had been here many times before. However, a sense of nervousness gripped you this time, unlike any previous visits. It was different now that it was he who had summoned you with an air of urgency.

Gathering courage to face Papa, you sighed and reached for the doorknob, opening the door of his office.

"Papa...?" you called for him as you opened the door.

"Sorella! Vieni, vieni!" Copia exclaimed, gesturing with his hand inviting you to come inside. "Come inside, per favore."

"Thank you, Papa," you said, entering his office, closing the door behind you.

"I'm glad you found a time for me. I know you've been very busy those last few days."

"Oh! Yes, since you left your Cardinal role, things have been changing and you know how we need to rearrange everything inside of the ministry for you."

"Sì, sí," he nodded. "But that's not the reason I called you here today, sorella," he cleared his throat before continuing. "You should know that you are one of the most remarkable members of our ministry, I appreciate your devotion and your posture inside of our unholy house, but, a little bird told me your little secret."

At this moment, you come to a halt where you stand. What was Papa referring to? Maybe...

"At our ministry," he went on, "We wholeheartedly embrace the seven deadly sins, as you are aware. However, a little bird whispered to me that you, sorella, are unacquainted with one of them."

Copia strode towards you, coming to stop right in front of you. His hands extended towards your neck, his fingertips gently caressing the skin as he traced upwards, ultimately reaching for the knot of your habit's veil situated at the back of your head. With a deft motion, he untied it, allowing the veil to cascade down and settle onto the floor.

"P-Papa..." you uttered, your breath catching in your throat. "I... I can... explain."

"There's no need for you to offer any explanations, sorella," his hand extended toward your scalp, his fingers weaving through the strands of your hair as he administered a soothing massage to your head. "I've not come to pass judgment upon you, not in the slightest. In fact, I called you here today to assist you."

Your gaze met his, a blush warming your cheeks, as his gloved hands continued their gentle ministrations on your head. The sensation of his fingertips kneading your scalp made your lips part involuntarily, a soft sound escaping your throat, almost a whimper, as you surrendered to the sensation, closing your eyes to fully savor the moment.

"Does it feel good, sorella?" Copia murmured.

"Y- Yes..." you whispered, swiftly opening your eyes and instinctively moving a step away from him. "I apologize, Papa. I'm truly sorry."

"There's no need," he reassured, his smile carrying warmth. "Now," he continued, stepping back towards his desk. "Share with your Papa what transpired, why you find yourself unfamiliar with the sin of lust."

Copia shifted his position, leaning against the desk for support, while you advanced a few steps, positioning yourself before him—close enough to engage yet maintaining a respectful distance.

"You see, Papa, I... I..." you began, your voice laden with a hint of uncertainty as you attempted to summon your courage to speak. "I've already touched myself, sometimes, but... I just never did it with someone else."

"Oh, sì," he nodded in understanding. "So the issue here is that you never actually engaged in it, sì?"

"Yes, that's the reason I haven't... partaken in the sin of lust," you affirmed.

"And is it your desire not to, sorella?"

"I do want to," you nodded. "However, I don't wish to engage in such an act with just any fellow member of the ministry, Papa."

"What do you mean by that, sorella?"

"I'm not entirely sure how to explain, Papa," you responded, your gaze drifting away from him to focus on your feet. "It's not that I lack the desire, but rather that I believe I shouldn't."

"Shouldn't? How so?"

"Well... I mean, technically I could, but I don't think I should with someone I don't genuinely desire."

He concurred, his expression understanding. "You are absolutely correct, cara," he acknowledged, his hand lifting to touch your chin, gently tilting your head to meet his gaze. "But if you have a particular someone in mind, remember that you can always confide in me, cara."

You nodded, watching as he stepped away from the desk and made his way to his chair. You observed him as he seated himself, then took a deep breath, your fingers gripping your habit.

"You," you admitted.

"Hm? What?"

"I... I w- want it to be you, P- Papa," you stammered, nervously.

His eyes widened slightly, then narrowed slightly. "Eh?" he asked, his tone conveying surprise. "Why would you wish to have me, cara?"

"I... I... I just thought..." you stammered. "That you might be able to help me... I mean, I know you're our Papa, but..."

"It is true, I am Papa," he confirmed, nodding. "But that does not mean I can't share my bed with a sorella."

"I know that, Papa," you sighed. "I was hoping that perhaps you would be willing to share your bed with me, though."

"Carissima," he smiled, inclining his head. "You are very beautiful, cara, and you are also one of the most devoted siblings of our ministry, so I would be honored to share my bed with you, sorella."

Your heart leapt within your chest, causing your breathing to become erratic.

"I suppose we should discuss the details of this arrangement, cara," he said.

"What details?"

"The specifics of our arrangement, for one thing, cara," he explained, his smile growing broader. "And of course, I will need to know more about you, cara. Do you have any experience in matters of the flesh?"

You blushed furiously, averting your eyes. "I..." you began, your voice faltering. "I haven't had much experience in such matters as I said before, Papa," you confessed.

He chuckled softly. "Ah, cara, you are adorable. I am certain that you will be an excellent lover, sorella."

You watched as he stood up and walked over to you, his hands reaching out to cup your face.

"But enough talk, cara. It is time for us to consummate our agreement."

You blushed again, then looked up into his eyes, your lips parting slightly.

"Papa..." you whispered. "Are you sure?"

"Sì." His hand slid around your waist, pulling you against him. "Let's go to my chambers, cara?"

"Yes, Papa," you replied, your voice trembling.

He walked towards the door of his office, opening the door for you. You walked in his direction, leaving the office. He followed you and you both walked through the corridors, your heart pounding within your chest. You were afraid that you were going to faint, but managed to keep your composure.

As you two arrived on his chambers, Copia opened the door for you and you entered with him following you right after, closing the door behind him.

He turned to you, smiling, his arms reaching out to pull you close. You placed your hands on his shoulders and kissed him passionately, your tongue sliding between his lips. His arms wrapped around your body, holding you close as you continued to kiss him.

He pulled away from you, his hands sliding down your back until they reached your bottom, pulling you closer against him. His fingers slipped between your legs, caressing your mound through the fabric of your habit. You moaned softly, your hips moving against his hand.

"You want me, don't you, cara? "he asked huskily.

"Yes, Papa," you gasped, your voice breathless.

"I want you so badly, sorella."

He lowered his head, kissing your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. You felt yourself becoming wetter as he continued to touch you, his fingers sliding inside your panties. He moved them slowly, rubbing against your clit, making you gasp.

"You are so wet, cara," he whispered, his breath hot on your neck. "I can feel how wet you are. You are already soaking wet for me, aren't you, cara?"

"Yes, P-Papa," you breathed, your voice husky. "I'm so wet for you. I want you so bad, Papa."

He groaned, his fingers continuing to rub against your clit, making you even wetter. "Oh, cara, I want you so badly," he moaned, his voice low and rough. "I want to taste you, cara. I want to taste all of you."

You whimpered, your hips pushing against his hand. "Please, Papa, please," you begged.

"Anything you want, cara. Anything you want," you could hear the lust in his voice. "Anything, cara. Just tell me what you want."

"I want you, Papa," you breathed, your voice hoarse. "I want you so much, please."

You heard him groan. "Sì, cara, you'll have your Papa. But first..."

He pulled away from you, your hands falling to your sides as you stared at him, your breathing ragged.

"First..?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"First, I want you to remove your clothes," he looked at your eyes. "I want to see you, I want to see all of you."

You started to unbutton your habit, sliding it down your body, staying before him in only your underwear.

"Take it off.," he ordered, his voice deep and demanding.

You did as he said, unhooking your bra, letting it fall to the floor, your eyes never leaving his face.

"Now, cara, lie down on the bed."

You walked towards his bed, lying down on the bed. He stood over you, staring at you.

"You told me you never did it before, but that you did it to yourself, so show me, sorella, show me how you touch yourself."

You smiled up at him, your fingers sliding into your panties, your folds moistening with excitement. You breathed his name in a whisper and he knelt beside the bed, leaning forward to look at you. His hands reached for the waistbands of your panties, slowly sliding it down your ankles.

"Oh, sorella, look at it," Copia said, leaning down, running his tongue along your slit. "Come here, I got you."

You gasped, your hips jerking upward. He licked you again, this time along your inner thigh, his tongue slipping between your flesh. You moaned softly, your hips moving against his mouth.

"You taste so good, cara. So sweet," he grinned.

His tongue slipped between your lips, licking up and down, dipping into your entrance. He moaned, his tongue sliding deeper inside you, tasting your juice. He removed his tongue from your entrance, sitting back on his heels, smiling up at you. He flicked his tongue against your clit, sucking it into his mouth, rolling it around his tongue.

"Ah! Pap-Ah! Fu-Oh! Please, this is so good!"you moaned, arching your back, rolling your head on the bed.

"Sì, cara, I know. I know that you like that. I know that you like my tongue on your pussy," he murmured, getting up from his knees. "But now, show me, cara. Show me how you touch yourself, for your Papa."

You reached down, your fingers slowly stroking your wetness. Your finger sliding easily between your folds, your wetness flowing freely. You closed your eyes, and your finger slid inside your entrance, but you quickly removed it. You heard a hum of disapprove from Copia, causing you to open your eyes, looking at him.

"No, cara," he shook his head. "Do it again, touch yourself properly for your Papa."

You slid two fingers into your entrance, curling them upward to rub your clit. He watched you, his fingers rubbing his growing bulge on his pants. You removed your fingers, going with them to your clit, circling it, spreading your legs wider.

"Papa... Papa, this is so goo-Oh!" you whimpered, rolling your eyes to the back of your head.

You moved your fingers back to your entrance, thrusting them faster inside you, your hips grinding against your hand. His fingers were still moving on his hardness, as he tilted his head to the side, watching you attentively. You were panting now, your fingers moving deeper, your hips moving faster as you curled your fingers, hitting your spot, crying out as your orgasm his, your body writhing beneath his gaze. You came hard, your walls clenching around your fingers.

"Oh, Satan, Papa! Oh Satan," you moaned softly, closing your eyes.

Copia grinned mischievously. "Did you enjoy that, cara?" he asked, pulling his clothes off.

"Yes, Papa, I did," you said, breathless.

"Molto Bene, because I have more for you. And this time, I'm going to give you want you want," he bent down and kissed you softly.

[molly-ghuleh]

Hi pretty, i want "i think i deserve a kiss" for the prompts with Cardinal Copia, pretty please ? i love you, you're amazing!!!

Kiss Prompts: "I think I deserve a kiss"

Cardinal Copia x reader

SFW! Contains: assistant trope, overworked trope, sickeningly sweet fluff, pining, suggestive if you squint, the titties and beer mug

Thank you for requesting my lovely!!! <3

Kiss prompts

The Cardinal's office is bathed in soft light from his various mismatched lamps. The Sun had set hours ago, but there was an important deadline that had caught up with the two of you. You, as the Cardinal's Clergy assistant, dutifully sit at your little desk in the corner of his office as Copia hunches over his own in the center of the room.

"What time is it?" You ask softly. You're sure it must be past midnight by now. This damned budget report from Papa's most recent tour is due on Sister Imperator's desk by the morning, and that woman wakes up unfathomably early.

Copia pulls up his cassock sleeve to glance at his watch. "It is, eh, twenty-three past midnight," he says. His voice is gravelly with the lack of sleep.

The two of you had been awake since six that morning with the sole intention of compiling every expense report under the Ministry's roof. Receipts, invoices, and account statements litter Copia's desk. He dictates each total to you and you type away on your laptop, entering the data into a mile-long spreadsheet that makes your computer run hotter than the fires of Hell.

Judging by the way Copia runs his fingers through his hair, there's still a ways to go--you'd learned to read his body language during your tenure as his assistant. You sigh and stand from your chair. Your back pops in a concerning manner, but you're far past caring. "Time for another pot of coffee?" You offer. Even if he says no, you'll make one for yourself if only to stretch your legs.

"You are far too good to me," Copia utters softly, looking up at you. His hair falls over his forehead from how often he'd ruffled it in frustration. His biretta had long since been discarded. The top few buttons of his cassock are undone, making him look delightfully unkempt.

You want to run your fingers through his hair.

"Maybe I just like coffee," you tease back, lips quirking with the sarcasm. Being tired makes you sassy. It's something that the Cardinal has said he likes about you. It makes working late more fun, he'd said, and that phrase had fuelled your hopeless little crush for months.

He simply huffs a laugh through his nose and you exit his office, mugs in hand, your slippers (which you kept under your desk for nights like these) scuffing along the tile of the dark corridor. The kitchens are a short walk from the Clergy's office wing. You're surprised there isn't a groove carved into the floor tracing your path from Copia's office to the coffee pot with how much caffeine the two of you manage to consume.

Despite late nights like these, the work is rewarding. You're on good terms with most of the Upper Clergy (you never know where you stand with Sister on any given day), you have special privileges to the Clergy break room, and you get to spend your days with Cardinal Copia, pining after him like some lovesick teenager.

At least you have your hand.

You rinse out the used mugs while the new pot of coffee brews. You prepare yours how you like, and make his with the attention to detail of a coffee shop barista who subsists on tips alone. Copia likes it lukewarm and sickeningly sweet. He would prefer a latte of course, but you don't have the time nor the energy to make one, so he'll have to settle for half-coffee-half-creamer and an unholy amount of sugar. Still, you smile, because you know exactly what he'll say when you place the mug in front of him, and you know exactly which witty retort you'll think in your head.

You make your way back to his office, bumping the heavy wooden door open with your hip while you hold one mug in each hand. His favorite is a plain white ceramic mug with the words 'rat dad' in bold black letters--a gift you'd given him after a year of working as his assistant. Your mug is a hand-me-down from him, his second-favorite, which says 'titties and beer' and which you're pretty sure Terzo had given him as a joke.

"Here," you say softly as you place his mug in an open space on his desk.

Copia sighs in relief and looks up at you. "I don't deserve you, tesoro," he says. He immediately takes a sip of the coffee and hums.

And your witty retort: "Yes, well, I think I deserve a kiss," you think as you turn to move towards your own desk.

The sound of Copia sputtering and coughing behind you makes you jump. Your tongue tingles with the sensation of recent words. They practically echo in the relative silence of his office, and immediately you realize your mistake. Your heart plummets.

You get sassy when you're tired, but you also tend to say what you're thinking.

"You, eh, you-- what?" Copia stutters. You can barely bring yourself to look at him out of sheer embarrassment.

"N-nothing!" You respond, too quickly and too high-pitched. He'd heard you, and you know he heard you, and he knows that you know.

You sit in your desk chair and pretend nothing happened. The monitor of your laptop does nothing to hide your deep blush or the line between your brows.

Copia's office is silent for a few moments, until his chair squeaks in the familiar sound of him standing. You brace yourself to be reprimanded, to be told that it is wholly inappropriate to say such things in front of your boss, or to be fired completely. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Instead, you see the deep red of Copia's cassock at the edge of your little desk, and he clears his throat. You swallow dryly and meet his gaze, absolutely mortified. A bead of nervous sweat rolls down the back of your neck. Stupid, stupid--

"I- I think you may be right, tesoro," Copia says, his voice shaking slightly. His lips quirk up at the corners which makes his mustache twitch. "We have, eh... danced around it for too long, yes?"

Oh, sweet Lucifer take me now.

Copia braces his hands on your desk and leans forward, bringing his face inches away from your own. You can feel his warm breath ghost over your lips. "I think you are long overdue for a kiss, dolce. Many, in fact."

Before you can say anything, he places his lips so sweetly against yours. His mustache tickles your top lip and his nose bumps against yours, but it doesn't matter. You're kissing him, and it's real, and it feels good. Where your heart had sunk before, it practically leaps out of your chest, hammering against your sternum. You lean into the kiss.

Copia pulls away far too soon and you chase his lips, but your cursed desk gets in the way. Instead you stare at him dumbly. Are you drooling? You might be drooling.

"The budget report, tesoro," Copia gently reminds you. Right. The budget report. "But, I plan to kiss you again and again once it is done, si? You, eh... deserve it."

[kissingghouls]

I woke up with thoughts about SO secretly learning Italian so they could surprise their Papa with it. I wish my brain would allow me to write something for it, so I can only share those thoughts. It warms my heart to think about how they feel and react for the very first time when their lover speaks their native tongue. It must be special and have a comforting warmth to it 🥹

ANON. ANON YOU BEAUTIFUL HUMAN. YOU BROKE THE CURSE. I WROTE A THING! THANK YOU SO MUCH 🥹

Untitled - Any Papa x gn!Reader Drabble (sfw, no warnings)

You’d been battling it out with that fucking owl app for weeks and there was a pile of secretly ordered and carefully hidden workbooks under your bed. Sometimes Papa would look at you as though he knew you were keeping something from him, but you were quick to assure him that nothing was going on. You liked his smile, his age, and the way his tummy grew softer between tours. You liked the little groan he’d let out as he settled in his seat and all of his other sounds.

And you liked the way he would whisper the sweetest words in his native tongue as you fell asleep.

It wasn’t a difficult decision to bust your ass to try to translate his sleepy confessions. It was slow at first, but over time you began to pick up words and phrases. You practiced as much as you could and despite feeling insecure about your pronunciation (you couldn’t really as for help with this project), you felt ready.

Another lovely evening with your Papa came to a close as you cuddled up to him in his bed. He held you close, as always, waiting patiently as your eyelids began to feel heavy. The words fell from his lips, soft whispers of adoration that wrapped around you and warmed your skin.

“Mi sono innamorata/o di te,” he admitted quietly. “Sono tuo/a.”

“Sono innamorato di te,” you replied with a grin, eyes still closed.

He shifted slightly and placed a hand under your chin to urge you to look at him. You slowly opened your eyes and stared back into his gorgeous mismatched gaze, a light blush creeping across your cheeks. There was so much warmth and love in that look you could hardly stand it, but you never wanted him to wear another expression ever again.

“Anch’io ti amo,” he confessed as he melted against you. Will his lips on your neck, he continued, “ti amo così tanto. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

[honimello]

Was It Worth It?

[her-satanic-wiles]

Kinktober Day 12 - Bukkake

Secondo & His Ghouls x Reader

Secondo decides to give his Ghouls a treat and they all attend art class - the canvas, however, is you.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 4.7k.

Reading Time: 19 min.

Warnings: bukkake, masturbation, mentions of orgies, nipple play, semi-public

Taglist: @akayuki56 @alien-the-ghost @amazing-bobinsky @angellayercake @anonymous-appreciation @babydestinyinfluencer @bitchywitchygardener @blossomsea @call-me-little-sunshine84 @copiaspet622 @copiasslut @cosmixxdust @da-rulah @dolceterzo @dopey-fandom-girl @faithisyours @ghoulishxdelights @hauntedharmonic-ghoulishhaunter @high-above-the-city @howlingco @inkstainedrat @kaijukimchi @kenken-the-shoggoth @ledger-kaos @magopi @megachaoticstupid @meliza1001 @miss-leto @mommy-dust @neganwifey25-blog @piaart @saintbowie @shycardinale @sister-of-sin-claudia @sisterof-sin @sodoswitchimage @the-did-i-ask @xiyingly @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

You didn’t hear them enter—their footsteps hushed against the cold, hard floor—until Secondo slowly peeled away the blindfold, unveiling a world of tantalising possibilities. You found yourself at the centre of his art studio, the very heart of his creative sanctuary, your body bare and vulnerable, poised on your knees like a living canvas. All eyes were on you, exposed and eager, ready to be transformed by the artistry of desire.

Secondo’s gaze burned into you, a smouldering mixture of possessiveness and adoration. You were his muse, his greatest masterpiece, and now it seemed, the prized possession of his Ghouls, who stood behind him, anticipation palpable in the air. You had long spoken of your cravings—how the absence of the Ministry’s wild orgies left an ache within you, a longing for hands exploring your skin and bodies pressing against yours in a frenzy of need.

Secondo had listened, his dark eyes glinting with mischief and desire as he toyed with the idea of sharing you. At first, you thought he was teasing, but as he outlined his intentions—carefully negotiating boundaries while igniting your fantasies—you realised the truth: your beloved was poised to give you everything your heart craved, a lavish feast of pleasure that would leave you utterly consumed.

Now, the Ghouls and Papa had you completely surrounded, a circle of lust and desire encasing you like a living, breathing sculpture. The six men gazed upon your form with pure hunger in their eyes, their arousal barely concealed beneath their flowing robes. You could almost feel the heat radiating off them, a palpable energy that thrummed in the air, igniting every nerve in your body.

Each gaze was a caress, exploring you from head to toe, drinking in your vulnerability and your eagerness. Their expressions were a blend of reverence and primal desire, and you knew they wanted this just as much as you did. You were their canvas, ready to be painted in shades of ecstasy and pleasure, and the knowledge made your heart race.

The soft rustle of fabric and the barely suppressed sounds of their excitement only heightened your anticipation. You could feel the weight of their attention, heavy yet intoxicating, stirring a deep longing within you. Secondo stood at the helm, his commanding presence a reminder of your surrender. He was the maestro of this symphony of bodies, orchestrating the scene with a knowing smile that sent shivers down your spine.

You shifted slightly, your skin tingling under their collective gaze, every inch of you craving the touch of their hands, the warmth of their bodies pressing against yours. They were not just spectators; they were hungry artists ready to leave their mark on you. You were no longer just a figure in the room; you were the epicentre of their desires, and the world outside ceased to exist.

With each passing moment, the tension in the air thickened, drawing you deeper into the vortex of lust that surrounded you. You were ready to be claimed, to surrender to the beautiful chaos that awaited, knowing that this was just the beginning of an exquisite journey into pleasure and abandon.

“You wanted this, didn’t you, amore?” Secondo murmured, his voice low and sultry as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, sending delightful shivers coursing through your body. The warmth of his breath against your skin ignited a flame of desire deep within you, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

As if reading your mind, one of his gloved hands began to explore, gently tracing the curves of your naked form. His fingers glided over your skin with a featherlight touch, teasing you with soft caresses that ignited every nerve ending. Each stroke was electric, sending tingles radiating through you, building a delicious tension that left you craving his every touch.

The contrast of the cool leather against your warm flesh heightened your senses, and you couldn’t suppress the soft moan that escaped your lips. You leaned into him instinctively, seeking more of his exquisite torment, relishing the way he took his time, exploring you as if you were the most precious of treasures.

His hand glided to one of your breasts, his fingers circling around your hardened nipple, teasing and tugging with a deftness that made your breath hitch. Each gentle squeeze and playful flick sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body, coaxing soft mewls of longing from your lips. You could feel the heat pooling deep within you, a primal need awakening as he toyed with your senses.

“You wanted to be fucked, sì?” he purred, his voice rich with desire, drawing closer so that his words brushed against your ear. “You wanted to be worshipped?” His gaze was smouldering, filled with a dark hunger that matched the fevered ache building inside you.

With every gentle pull of your nipple, you felt more vulnerable, more alive, utterly at his mercy. Your mind raced, a swirl of fantasies and delicious anticipation as you recalled the whispered confessions you’d shared—the aching desire to be enveloped by the warmth of many hands, to surrender yourself entirely.

“My Ghouls have wanted you for a long time,” Secondo continued, his tone both teasing and commanding, each word laced with promise. “Will you spread your legs for them and give them what you all so desperately want?”

The question hung in the air, thick with tension, and the thought sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins. Your heart raced at the idea of fulfilling those unspoken desires, the thought of being worshipped by the six eager Ghouls igniting your senses further. You bit your lip, torn between the delicious shyness of your vulnerability and the overwhelming thrill of surrendering completely to the moment.

The room pulsed with anticipation, a collective breath held as you weighed his words. You could feel their hunger, the raw need emanating from them like a powerful tide. It was a call to abandon all hesitation, a beckoning to step into a realm of pleasure where you would be the focal point of their desires, the embodiment of everything they craved.

“D-do you want it, Papa?” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper yet laced with need. You already knew the answer; he’d made his desires abundantly clear in the hushed conversations you’d shared weeks ago. But you craved to hear him say it—to have that deep, rich Italian accent wrap around the words, declaring his hunger for you as he prepared to share you with his Ghouls.

His eyes darkened with lust as he leaned closer, his breath a tantalising whisper against your ear. “You know I do, tesoro,” he replied, the sultry timbre of his voice sending shivers racing down your spine. “There is nothing I want more than to watch my subordinates touch themselves to you?”

The weight of his words hung in the air, electrifying the atmosphere around you. The thought of him witnessing every moment, every thrust, every expression of unrestrained desire on your face, made your heart race with exhilaration. You could almost feel the heat radiating from the Ghouls, their anticipation palpable as they leaned in closer, ready to indulge in the delicious scene unfolding before them.

Secondo’s gaze locked onto yours, his eyes burning with a possessive intensity that made your knees weak. “You are mine, and I will share you,” he continued, his voice low and commanding. “But it’s you who will decide how far you wish to go. Will you let them worship you, let them take you? Will you give yourself to the pleasure we all crave?”

His words wrapped around you like a silken thread, binding you to the moment. You felt exhilarated and terrified, caught in the throes of anticipation. The studio, once a space for art, now felt like a sanctuary for your deepest desires, a canvas ready to be filled with the strokes of pleasure and surrender.

“Touch yourself for us, amore,” Secondo requested, his voice low and sultry, a seductive command that sent a thrill coursing through you. The intensity of his gaze held you captive, his dark eyes gleaming with an unmistakable hunger as he raised his hand to his mouth, the glistening spit landing on his fingers with a soft, satisfying sound.

The sight ignited a primal fire within you, a rush of excitement flooding your senses. You felt a flush of heat wash over your body, the air thick with anticipation as his desire echoed through the room. The Ghouls watched, their eyes glued to you, eager and hungry, their collective breaths holding the weight of unspoken promises.

With a tremour of exhilaration, you lifted your hands, letting them glide down your body. Your fingers danced along your curves, exploring the softness of your skin as you succumbed to the delicious thrill of vulnerability. You could feel their eyes on you, their gazes burning into you like a caress, urging you to let go and embrace the pleasure.

As you moved, you could sense the intensity growing, a magnetic pull drawing you deeper into the moment. Each touch ignited sparks of pleasure, a delightful reminder of your body’s power to awaken desire. You circled your fingertips over your breasts, teasingly pinching your nipples, letting out soft gasps that mingled with the hushed murmurs of approval from the Ghouls.

Secondo watched intently, his fingers glistening with his saliva as he grinned, clearly enjoying the show. “That’s it, tesoro,” he urged, his voice a low rumble of encouragement. “Show us how much you crave it. Let them see what they’re in for.”

You felt a rush of exhilaration at his words, a surge of confidence swelling within you. You intensified your movements, letting your fingers slip lower, tracing the delicate contours of your body until they brushed against the heat between your thighs. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making your breath hitch as you continued to tease and explore.

Every stroke, every gasp was an invitation, a promise of the ecstasy that awaited. The Ghouls leaned in closer, their own arousal evident in the way they shifted, eager to experience the depths of your longing.

As you surrendered to the exquisite pleasure of your own touch, the Ghouls and Secondo followed suit, their bodies moving in sync with the rhythm of your desire. Each of them, fully aware of the intoxicating power you held, began to stroke themselves, their hands gliding over their own skin, revealing the undeniable hunger etched across their faces.

You caught glimpses of their impressive forms, muscles flexing and rippling under their touch, each man lost in his own world of pleasure as they watched you. The sight sent a jolt of excitement through you, igniting a deeper need within, your body responding instinctively to the primal energy that filled the room.

Secondo’s dark gaze remained fixed on you, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched the scene unfold, his fingers working deliberately, trailing over his own arousal, clearly enjoying the sight of his Ghouls surrendering to the moment. “Look at them, tesoro,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “They can’t take their eyes off you.”

You felt a rush of exhilaration, knowing that your body was the source of their pleasure. The way they touched themselves mirrored your own movements, a synchronised dance of desire that heightened the tension in the air. Their eyes were filled with a mix of longing and admiration, each stroke of their hands adding to the electric atmosphere, the room heavy with the scent of lust.

You continued to explore your body, fingers trailing lower, teasing your sensitive skin as soft gasps escaped your lips. The Ghouls responded in kind, their own breaths hitching and deepening as they moved with increasing urgency, captivated by your every move. You could see the way they leaned closer, their faces filled with longing, each man yearning to be the one to bring you to the brink of ecstasy.

“Don’t hold back, amore,” Secondo urged, his voice a velvety caress that wrapped around you. “Let them see just how much you crave it. Show them the depths of your desire.”

Encouraged by his words, you intensified your movements, your body alive with sensation as you lost yourself in the moment. The Ghouls matched your rhythm, their hands gliding over themselves with urgency, each of them desperate to reach the same peak of pleasure that you were chasing.

The room pulsed with raw energy, a collective heartbeat of lust that seemed to envelop you all, drawing you deeper into a shared experience of unrestrained desire. You were the focus of their craving, the embodiment of their fantasies, and as you moved, you could feel the connection between you all, a powerful bond forged in the heat of passion.

As you surrendered fully to the intoxicating rhythm of your own touch, the sounds around you became a symphony of pleasure. The air was thick with heavy breaths and the slick sounds of skin gliding against skin. You could hear the unmistakable wetness of their hands moving against their arousal, the soft, rhythmic slaps echoing in the studio, each sound sending shivers down your spine.

The Ghouls were lost in their own ecstasy, their moans spilling from their lips like honey, rich and sweet. Each low growl, each breathy gasp only fueled your desire, a chorus of need that heightened the atmosphere. The music of their pleasure surrounded you, wrapping around you like a velvet cloak, making you feel both cherished and desired.

You turned your gaze toward Secondo, whose eyes were dark with lust, his fingers moving with deliberate precision. His moans were deeper, almost primal, and they sent a rush of heat through you. “That’s it, tesoro,” he urged, his voice thick with arousal. “Let them hear you. Let them know how much you crave them.”

Encouraged by his words, you let out a soft whimper of pleasure, the sound echoing in the charged space. It was a sound that drew their attention, their gazes locking onto you with a renewed fervor. You could see the way their bodies reacted, the intensity of their strokes quickening, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they mirrored your movements.

The room was filled with the mingled sounds of pleasure—the wet slaps of skin, the deep, hungry moans, and the soft rustle of bodies shifting. It was a symphony that resonated deep within you, urging you to surrender completely to the sensations that engulfed you. Every sound, every gasp only intensified your own arousal, drawing you closer to the precipice of ecstasy.

As you continued to tease yourself, your fingers gliding over your body, you could feel the tension building within you, an exquisite pressure that begged to be released. The Ghouls watched with rapt attention, their own movements driven by the desire to reach that same height of pleasure.

You closed your eyes, letting their sounds wash over you, allowing the rhythm of their pleasure to sync with your own. The world outside faded away, leaving only the intoxicating heat of desire and the primal connection shared between you all. You could feel their energy pulsating around you, a tangible force that drew you deeper into this moment of shared passion.

Every sound intensified the atmosphere, wrapping you in a cocoon of raw desire. You could hear the Ghouls’ breath hitching, each moan a testament to the pleasure coursing through them. Their hands moved with a feverish intensity, the slick sounds of their strokes blending with the soft whispers of encouragement that slipped from Secondo’s lips, urging you all to lose yourselves in the moment.

“Can you feel how much they want you?” Secondo asked, his voice a low rumble that reverberated through the room, making your pulse quicken. “Let their desire fuel your own, tesoro. Let it push you closer to the edge.”

You took a deep breath, inhaling the heady scent of arousal that hung in the air, and surrendered to the sensations coursing through your body. You could feel your heart racing, pounding in time with the rhythm of their movements. With each deliberate stroke, your fingers danced over your sensitive flesh, igniting waves of pleasure that rippled through you.

The Ghouls were completely engrossed in the spectacle before them, their moans becoming increasingly desperate, a mix of pleasure and longing that resonated deeply within you. You could see them shifting closer, their bodies tense with need, their eyes locked onto you with a mix of reverence and lust.

“Touch yourself harder, amore,” Secondo commanded, his voice thick with desire. “Let them see how much you want it, how much you crave the attention of all of us.”

Your fingers quickened their pace, moving with urgency as you surrendered to the wave of pleasure building inside you. The sensations were overwhelming, and the sound of your own moans blended seamlessly with the guttural groans of the Ghouls around you. Each gasp, each whimper only served to stoke the flames of your desire, drawing you closer to the precipice of ecstasy.

“Fucking hell, you’re exquisite,” one of the Ghouls breathed, his voice tinged with awe as he watched you, his hand moving faster against himself, a testament to the effect you had on him. The others echoed similar sentiments, their voices mingling into a chorus of lust that surrounded you, pushing you closer to your release.

You could feel the heat radiating from their bodies, an intoxicating wave of energy that enveloped you. The world around you faded into insignificance as you focused on the sensations surging through your body, the symphony of pleasure building with each passing second. The studio felt alive with energy, each breath and moan creating an electric connection that drew you deeper into the shared experience.

As you neared your peak, you could hear Secondo’s voice cutting through the haze of pleasure, commanding yet gentle. “Let go, tesoro. Let the pleasure wash over you. We’re all here for you.”

With a final thrust of your fingers, you felt that exquisite pressure finally burst, waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your moans spilled forth, echoing in the room as you succumbed to the sweet release, each pulse sending shockwaves of ecstasy radiating through your body.

In that moment, as the Ghouls continued to stroke themselves, their eyes glued to you in a mix of admiration and desperation, you knew you had given them exactly what they craved. And as the sensations began to ebb, you reveled in the aftermath of shared desire, your body still humming with pleasure as you looked into the eyes of those who had gathered around you, each of them eager to join in on this intoxicating journey.

As the waves of pleasure began to recede, the Ghouls edged closer, their bodies enveloping you in an intoxicating aura of desire. You could feel the heat radiating from them, the undeniable scent of arousal hanging thick in the air. Each of them, now fully aroused and ready, hovered over you, their breaths quickening as they closed the distance.

Their hands moved feverishly against themselves, stroking their lengths with urgency, and you could see the lust burning in their eyes as they watched you. The sight was overwhelming, an exquisite blend of need and hunger that sent fresh ripples of desire coursing through your veins. You could feel the tension in the air, electric and charged, as they poised themselves above you, ready to unleash their desires.

“Look at how ready they are for you, amore,” Secondo breathed, his voice a low, sultry whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “They want to paint you with their essence, to mark you as theirs.”

As he spoke, the Ghouls leaned in closer, their hands working faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing around the room. You could feel the heat radiating from their bodies, the sheer need palpable in the air as they positioned themselves, cocked and poised to shoot their spend onto your body.

The sight was intoxicating; the way their muscles flexed and strained as they stroked themselves, the sheer concentration etched on their faces. It was as if time had slowed, every moment stretching out as they focused solely on you, their shared desire building to a fever pitch.

“Please,” you gasped, the word slipping from your lips unbidden, a plea for the release you knew was coming. You wanted to feel their warmth, to be enveloped in their desire, a canvas for their lust.

With a wicked grin, Secondo stepped closer, his fingers still glistening from earlier, as he tilted your chin to meet his gaze. “Are you ready to be worshipped, tesoro? To be painted with our desire?”

As he spoke, the Ghouls collectively let out low growls of agreement, their hands moving even faster, the urgency in their strokes palpable. They were all ready to unleash their need, and you could feel your heart racing in response, a drumbeat of anticipation echoing in your chest.

“Now, let them see just how much you want it,” Secondo urged, his voice a sultry command that sent another wave of arousal through you.

You felt yourself responding instinctively, your body arching towards them, a silent invitation. The Ghouls took a step closer, their bodies poised over you, their breaths hitching in unison as they prepared to let go, to shower you with their lust.

With a shared understanding, they released their grips, thick ropes of warmth splattering across your body, painting you in a lustful masterpiece. The sensation was electric, a rush of heat that sent shivers coursing through you, igniting the remnants of pleasure still dancing through your veins.

You closed your eyes, succumbing to the overwhelming sensations as you felt their warmth enveloping you, each drop a testament to their desire, marking you as their own. The world outside faded away, leaving only the intoxicating heat of their release, the sound of their breaths mingling with your soft moans, creating a symphony of shared ecstasy.

As the warmth of the Ghouls’ cum pooled across your body, a rush of sensations flooded your senses. The slick, hot fluid dripped down your skin, enveloping you in a sticky embrace that ignited a fresh wave of arousal. Each drop felt electric, a reminder of the raw, primal energy that had just unfolded around you. You could feel it settling into the curves of your body, accentuating every contour, marking you as their canvas, their trophy.

The weight of their desires clung to you, each viscous splash igniting your skin, turning you into a living testament to their lust. You reveled in the feeling, your breath quickening as the heat of their release seeped into your very being. The warmth spread across your back and shoulders, glistening in the soft light of the studio, and you felt utterly devoured by their need.

But even amidst the heady sensations, your body craved more. You could sense the anticipation still lingering in the air, and your heart raced as you felt the heat of Secondo’s gaze upon you. He was still behind you, taking in the sight of his Ghouls’ release coating you, his own arousal simmering with intensity.

As the last of the Ghouls stepped back, panting and satisfied, Secondo moved forward, a smirk playing on his lips. He gently grasped your hips and bent you over, positioning you on your hands and knees, exposing your glistening form. You could feel the cool air against your skin, contrasting beautifully with the warmth that enveloped you from the release that had just painted you.

“Look at you,” he purred, his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers racing down your spine. “So beautifully marked, so inviting.”

You felt his presence loom behind you, the heat radiating off him as he hovered close, but he didn’t enter you. Instead, you felt his hardness pressing against your skin, teasingly close. His hand moved between his own legs, stroking himself slowly, deliberately, as he admired the scene before him.

“Do you want more, tesoro?” he asked, the seductive timbre of his voice making your heart race even faster. “Or are you content being a canvas for us?”

You whimpered, unable to find the words as the thrill of anticipation coursed through you. You wanted him—needed him to take you, to claim you—but instead, he remained tantalizingly just out of reach. He stroked himself behind you, the slick sound of his hand against his length filling the air, mixing with the echoes of the Ghouls’ earlier release.

With deliberate slowness, Secondo moved closer, positioning himself perfectly against your glistening hole. He teased the head of his cock against you, a smirk dancing on his lips as he watched your body writhe in desperate need. “Let me decorate you further, amore,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

With that, he released himself, hot streams of cum landing directly on your hole, each splash sending shockwaves of pleasure racing through you. The sensation was overwhelming, an exquisite mix of heat and the primal nature of his teasing. You could feel your breath hitching as you surrendered to the moment, a moan escaping your lips as his warmth coated you, heightening the intensity of your desire.

“Look at how perfect you are,” he praised, his voice low and sultry. “Just a beautiful mess, waiting to be filled. But for now, you’ll remain a masterpiece.”

Secondo loomed over you, his body radiating heat as he stroked himself behind you, the sound of his hand gliding over his length filling the air. The anticipation was thick, electrifying the space between you. You could feel the tension building, every inch of your body aware of his presence, yearning for more.

With each deliberate stroke, he drew closer, positioning himself against your glistening hole. You felt the heat of him pressing against your sensitive skin, your breath hitching in your throat as you trembled with need. “You’re so tempting like this,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry, making your heart race. “I could spend all day just teasing you.”

He rubbed the tip of his cock against your entrance, taunting you, letting you feel his warmth without giving you what you truly craved. “Do you want me, tesoro?” he asked, his breath hot against your ear. “Do you want to feel me fill you?”

You nodded, desperate and needy, your body aching for his touch. But instead of giving you what you wanted, he continued to stroke himself, his pace steady and maddeningly slow. “Patience, amore. You’ll get what you deserve, but first, I want you to feel every second of this.”

With a primal growl, Secondo tightened his grip as he continued to stroke himself, his breath coming in ragged gasps. You could feel the tension building between you, an electric charge that crackled in the air. The anticipation was palpable, and your body ached with need, every inch of you yearning for him.

“Are you ready, tesoro?” he asked, his voice thick with desire, a teasing lilt that made your heart race. You could hear the strain in his tone, a clear sign of his own desperation.

Before you could respond, he surged forward, positioning himself perfectly against your hole. With a final, deep groan, he released himself, hot ropes of cum splattering directly onto your entrance. The sensation was exquisite, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. The warmth enveloped you, mixing with the remnants of the Ghouls’ release, creating a deliciously filthy layer that marked you as his.

“Sathanas, you look so perfect like this,” he breathed, admiring the way his cum glistened on your skin. “So beautifully filled, just for me.” His voice was laced with lust, every word a caress that made you shiver with pleasure.

As the last remnants of his release dripped down your hole, he took a moment to relish the sight before him, his cock still hard and ready, poised teasingly against you. “You’re such a good little canvas, amore. I could lose myself in this moment.”

You trembled beneath him, every nerve ending alight with sensation as the warmth of his release settled on your skin. It was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and satisfaction that left you breathless. Each pulse of your heart echoed the need coursing through you, leaving you desperate for more.

“Thank you for this, Papa,” you told him, looking at him over your shoulder.

“I will do anything you wish me to,” Secondo replied, looking at you with adoration in his eyes. “But first, I want them off of you. Let’s clean you up, sì?”

Prev./Next

[ink-and-dagger]

U tickle my pickle. But also any Papa of choice with a mix of: 10, 52, 86?

UwU ywu twickle mwy pwickle 💚

And here’s some Popia pickle for you too

So I got way more of these prompts than I was expecting. I'll try and do as many as I can, and will post them over the next few weeks as daily drabbles 🖤

Papa Emeritus iv x afab!Reader || Smut Drabble || NSFW || MDNI || Caught masturbating || Edging || P in V || Wc: 700

Read on AO3

Fuck Midjourney. Fuck OpenAI. And fuck Tumblr for selling out.