#secondo x brother of sin

[copiousloverofcopia]

Good afternoon ghesties!

After a much-appreciated break over the holidays I am proud to have ready for you all to enjoy for the next installment of, The Hell Torn Heart featuring Secondo and @ashley-ghuleh OC Marcus!

Thank you so much for letting me bring Marcus to life! Hope you all enjoy!

Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info!

💗 Special thanks to @gothdaddyissues for the beautiful dividers!

The Hell Torn Heart

After a recurring dream leaves Marcus, a half-demon/half-hellhound, dealing with the ghosts of his troubled past and visions of a place he has never been. He is unexpectedly thrust into an unknown world. Guided by a mysterious couple to the Ministry, surrounded by ghouls and siblings of sin. The once outcast struggles with what haunts him and learning to find himself—until he meets Secondo.

Chapter 3: Coming Home

Also available HERE on AO3! Haven’t started yet? Read from the beginning HERE!

Definitely NSFW below the cut!

Marcus couldn't remember much about the trip. Nothing but a blur of countryside and endless winding roads as the tour bus took them deep into the middle of nowhere. It surprised him at first that the Abbey, which hosted a world-renowned metal band, would be nestled deep into the Italian countryside. Not set in the middle of a posh, affluent city—surrounded by decadence and opulent affairs.    

No that would be too obvious, he thought to himself. It seemed that, by all account, things needed a bit more privacy and discretion than that. Knowing now that the band consisted of Hell spawn such as himself, it was probably for the best that they weren’t as easy to find as an Aldi or an Edeka. That a remote location would afford them the ability to thrive away from prying, righteous eyes. 

It was hours and hours later when Marcus, lost in his own thoughts, realized that they had reached an iron entry gate. Ominous and tall as they loomed over them. It looked as if it were centuries old. Laden with rust and crawling with ivy throughout the frame. 

“Ah…finally home... uh!” Copia sighed before jolting upwards. Thrilled to be home, but less so by the rough and bumpy ride along the gravel drive leading to the front of the Abbey. Marcus stared out of the window, his eyes glazed over in astonishment and his heart pounding away. Barely able to contain the impulses of his anxiety. 

“Ist das echt? Sehe ich das wirklich?” he asked, his glamour glitching out on him as he scattered about in the cabin. Taking in the surroundings as they pulled up to the front door.

“It is Marcus, we’re finally here.” Aether smiled, Cumulus letting out a yawn as she stretched alongside him on the sofa. Tail swaying happily beside her, having realized they arrived at home. 

It was otherworldly and haunting. The grounds, the foliage, the building. All of it as if it were ripped from the elaborate images inside his dream. Marcus rubbed his eyes, smudging the eyeliner along his waterline as he tried to make sure he was really awake. 

“It's—It's uncanny.” he muttered under his breath, Aether standing up and placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“What is?” the ghoul asked him as the others began gathering up a few of the bags from the overhead bins. 

“I—I have seen this before. This place. In my dreams.” Marcus confessed, his eyes never leaving the window. Fixated on the Abbey, just as grand and foreboding as it was in his subconscious. 

“Then it should be clear to you that you are meant to be here with us piccolo, now let’s get off this glorified Sardine can.” Copia laughed as they all started making their way off the bus. 

As they funneled into the front door. The activity inside was in full swing, the siblings and ghouls alike going about their business. Though he was immediately in awe of it, Marcus felt too good to be true. Before now it would have been unfathomable to have ghouls and humans coexisting without the guise of glamours. At the Ministry however this was normalcy—expected. 

No one batted an eye at his glamour. No matter how much it had begun to fade in and out as they walked. A few of the Abbey inhabitants even stopped to welcome Copia and the ghouls back home. Happily smiling away at Marcus without a second thought as they made their way down the main hall.  

Maybe here he would find the solace he so desperately sought throughout his whole life. As travel down the hall, a trek that felt endless, Marcus’s eyes took it all in. The walls were lined in rows of cathedral style-stained glass and paintings, consisting of all manner of Hellish imagery. Their scenes hung carefully between the doors—doors that led to unknown rooms of which Marcus already longed to see. He was especially impressed by the grand staircase, flanked by a statue of Lucifer and Lilith, leading to the Papal offices and the even more decadent—Papal suites. 

As he marveled away at the beautiful architecture and impressive adornments, they reached their destination. A large pair of oak doors facing them as Copia knocked away. Though Marcus had no idea, it was this moment where things for him would take a permanent turn. Beginning with the sound of a stern sounding feminine voice, calling from inside. 

“Come in.” she said. Cardinal Copia, gently opening up the door to a massive office. A woman of later years sat, prim and proper in a large red baroque-style chair. Her hair pulled back tightly into a bun and her desk surrounded by parchment filled shelves and antique tapestries. Perking up her eyebrow at them as they approached her desk.

“Good afternoon, Sister.” Copia began, the woman acknowledging him with a nod. “I apologize we did not tell you sooner that we would be arriving today, but as you can see, we had some unexpected business to attend to.” the Cardinal finished, motioning to Marcus as he stood still in the doorway.

“That I see, a ghoul, is he? Wait no… a spawn of Cerberus. My… it has been quite some time since the Ministry has hosted a Hellhound.”

“Only half.” Marcus interjected; the words just noticeable as Imperator continued on.

 “What is your name child?” She asked, lifting up the glasses that had slipped down her nose. 

“Marcus, Marcus Kohle.” he responded, trying to puff up his chest and control his shifting glamour, which seemed to be getting harder to maintain since he had arrived. 

“Well Marcus, welcome to the Ministry. I am Sister Imperator—I am the Abbess here. You will do well to follow my orders. Is that understood?” she inquired. Marcus was already both impressed and annoyed by her. The woman was clearly in charge for a reason, and it seemed better that he heed her warning then oppose it—at least for now. 

“Understood Sister.” he agreed. The Sister stood up from her desk and walked over to the filing cabinet that sat just to the right of her closet door. Grabbing an black envelope from inside, embossed with a golden Grucifix on its front, and handing it over to Marcus.

“Inside this you will have some introductory information we provide to all the Hell spawn inhabitants. Though you have arrived somewhat unconventional from most, I feel this will still be of some help. Also, Aether, see to it that Mr. Kohle gets acquainted with everyone. I would like it if you can spend the rest of the day showing him around. Help him to familiarize himself with his new home.

Home…I’m home, Marcus thought. Elated to hear the Sister refer to the Abbey as such. Finally, a place where he might find himself. Find out who he was meant to be. 

“Not a problem… hey maybe someday you’ll even get to be in the band.” Aether said, nudging Marcus at his side. The two, taking a moment to chuckle to themselves as Copia and Sister Imperator finished up their ministrations. Aether, excited to take him for the tour of the Abbey.

As they began to leave Imperator’s office, Aether could sense Marcus felt uneasy. He was still trying to get accustomed to it all. Having spent his whole life hiding behind his glamour, it felt weird to be in a place where it wasn’t necessary. A place where his true self could be revealed without prejudice.

“What’s wrong Marcus?”

“It’s just…” Marcus began, his glamour shifting in and out. Aether figured it out, pressing his lips into a soft, understanding smile. 

“It’s alright. You can keep the glamour on as long as you need man. No judgment here. I promise.” The ghoul assured him, a sentiment that seemed to allow Marcus to carry on.

The rest of the afternoon consisted of Aether telling Marcus everything he knew about the Ministry and the ways of the Abbey. It surprised Marcus to learn that Aether was new too, well relatively. Aether explained about the Papas, serving as the dark representatives on Earth for Lucifer himself and how it was the duty of all Hell spawn within the Ministry to be in their service. That more often than not the ghouls were summoned directly by the Papas themselves. 

He learned about the siblings and their roles too. They were also subordinates of the Papas and the Ministry, but unlike the ghouls they arrived at the Abbey of their own accord. Choosing a life of sin, to give their lives over in service of Satan. It was then that Marcus's initial optimistic view of his new “home” began to wane. Wondering to himself the ghouls were more slaves than companions. Aether quickly dispelled the idea, letting Marcus know that they are sent by Lucifer himself to serve and that the ghouls take to the task willingly.

Aether had shown him all the essential spots: the chapel, the grand hall, the refectory, and the Clergy offices. Explaining to Marcus that the ghouls and other infernals as well as the siblings were only allowed inside the offices if requested by the Clergy themselves. All of the explanations and endless coordinators overwhelmed Marcus. Aether must have sensed it when he stopped mid-sentence to inquire how his new friend was feeling.

“And then at the end of the hall here is the—hey you doing ok there?” he asked. Marcus nodded in response, unsure of how to explain. It started to feel like too much and too quick, he felt like it was hard to breathe. To his relief, Aether decided now was as good a time as any to take a bit of reprieve. 

Aether had introduced him to a number of siblings and other ghouls while they took a moment to feel the fresh air on their skin Relaxing on the bench outside in the courtyard while Marcus could catch his metaphorical breath. He could tell Aether was trying to help but being with the others only made Marcus more anxious. Worsened when he overheard one of them call him, catulus. A term of endearment for puppy. Placed on him by the Ghost crew while on the bus, somehow didn’t sit right coming people he hardly knew.   

It was clear to Marcus, though completely untrue, that he wasn’t human enough for the humans and wasn’t feral enough for the ghouls. A precarious position to be in, Marcus thought. Worried that while he had been promised “home”, once again he felt as though he might not fit in. Beginning to wonder if he ever would. The feeling only made worse when Aether showed him how to reach both the sibling’s quarters and the ghoul’s den.  

“...and up here is the ghoul’s den and to the left is the sibling’s quarters. You can decide for yourself which best fits you. Though the ghouls and I would love to have you retain residence in the den. We are a pretty crazy group, but also the best bunch of people you’ll ever know.” Aether smiled. 

“I suppose that will be fine.” Marcus told him, deciding it best to stick with the familiarity of Aether and Cumulus, instead of trying to find new friends right away within the siblings. 

“Well alright then, let's get to the real fun. You haven’t seen the lower level yet.” Aether smirked, a sly, mischievous grin. 

“What’s down there?” 

“Well, the dungeons—you know torture chambers and the summoning room.” he explained as they made their way to the set of stone steps that coiled into the lower level of the Abbey. The walls, unlike the extravagant ones above in the main hall, covered in moss and vine. The moist scent of decay and of smoke thick in their nostrils. While the little hairs on Marcus’s skin stood on edge as they descended the stairs.

“Ah, man that's ripe.” Marcus groaned, covering his sensitive nose.

“You’ll get used to it.” Aether laughed as they reached the torture chambers. They were mostly empty, only the residual of broken chains and the hint of an insidious history were left in them. Marcus was confused. It seemed that a Satanic Abbey would be littered in tortured souls to speak of.  

“So do these not get used or what's the story here?” he asked.

“Well in his hay day Papa Primo used to frequent the torture chambers, only to terrorize those who deserved it mind you. That was long before my time here though and I hear it has been some time since he has been in them—and since they’ve been used in general.” Aether explained before attempting to continue on.

“What does Papa Primo do now?” Marcus inquired, genuinely curious as to what such a supposed evil, sadistic man who took pleasure in the torture of others did since he had abandoned these stomping grounds. 

“Oh Primo, he is the sole Papa in charge of the Gardens. I will take you out there tomorrow when there's more light.” Aether explained, Marcus’s eyes widening in disbelief. Amazing that someone could pivot so vastly from torture to tulips. It was utterly amusing to the both of them as Aether and him laughed at the irony.

The last stop on the tour was the summoning room. For Marcus, this would be the most interesting part. Curious, from the moment he heard of it, to see a summoning in action. Aether was more than delighted to let him know that at that very moment one was in process.

The doors were closed as Marcus and Aether approached. The sounds of snapping and snarling coming from behind them. Red light pouring out over the threshold and into the passageway. Marcus could feel the blood racing through his veins, his pupils dilating as the doors opened—revealing the room to him. 

The floor was covered in glistening obsidian. A pentagram carved into the stone, its shape emanating in a bright red light. The room was circular, unlike any other Marcus had been allowed to see. Flickering torches along the walls, walls lined with hooded figures that Marcus could discern were other ghouls from their scent. 

At its center stood a man. Powerful and statuesque. Wearing robes of black and emerald, green as he chanted something in Latin. Smoke swirling around him and settling along the ground. The knife in his right hand, covered in blood, blood that spilled from the self-inflicted wound on his left.  His face, painted as a skull—dark and mysterious like he was taunting death itself.  

“Who is that?” he whispered to Aether. Marcus, feeling enthralled as he watched the ritual unfold before him. The feral ghoul, rising from the settled smoke that flooded the ground, bowing at the feet of the stoic man before him. 

“That is the second Emeritus son, Papa Secondo.”  

After the dinner, Marcus was left on his own. Copia and the band ghouls called back to Sister Imperator to discuss the next tour. His mind, still flooded with images of the summoning. Of that enigmatic man, calling to the bowels of Hell for the ghouls to rise. Their loyalty, given over to him without question.

The very sight of him had Marcus’s blood pumping, his breathing quickening, noted by the rapid rise and fall of his chest. It wasn’t often that his head was turned, but something about this Papa called to him. As he continued walking, his mind torn between his unease of fitting in, and his lustful thoughts, he heard sounds echoing within the corridor. Their origin, seemingly from beyond the impending corner. 

Marcus slowly approached, peering around to find the Papa he had seen before. The one that had him practically drooling, now leaned against the wall. His chasuble flipped up and over shoulder and his arm, outstretched out and down upon the head of one of the sisters of sin. A sister who had her mouth around his pious cock. The Papa, gagging her as he forced her head down along his shaft. 

Marcus could hardly believe what he was seeing—and hearing. The sister slurping away as he grunted and groaned, face fucking her hard and fast. Marcus had remembered reading in Sister Imperator’s pamphlet that sins were encouraged openly here. Lust, in particular, highly celebrated as long as all those involved were of age and had given enthusiastic consent.

Still, seeing the Papa in that moment, unabashed at his actions, in full view of anyone who might pass with this sister going down on him really sent the message home. It was certainly unexpected, Marcus standing here in silence a moment as his brain caught up with his eyes. Frozen as he watched, in both delight and jealousy, the sister with a mouthful of the clergyman. Swallowing back his endowment however, in Marcus’s humble opinion, with lackluster technique. 

Marcus shook it off the initial shock of it. Deciding to, in true to himself form, make a flippant, wide crack before making his way back to the den. “That's what she calls giving head? Seems to me like you're wasting a good dick on some bad oral." he snarked, his hands held around his mouth to heighten the sound of his voice. Directing it down the hall at them before he quickly scampered away.

When Marcus reached the room Aether had set up, he quickly shut and locked the door behind him. With his mind still on Papa Secondo, Marcus ran his hand through his blue hair and down over his neck. Feeling the heat of the moment rising up inside him. His fingers, traveling down over his black tank top, over his chest and belly, before hovering just above the obvious swell in his jeans. 

He made quick work of his buttons and zipper. Grateful to free his own cock from the confines of his pants. Leaking and throbbing with what he had just seen. Marcus took hold of himself, gently running his thumb over his swollen head. Gathering up some of his precum to lubricate his glide as he fucked upward into his hand.

He had completely lost himself in desire. Clouded in thoughts of Secondo's cock—The looks of it, the taste of it, the feel of it. Pressing his fingers along the underneath of his shaft as he bucked up into his fist. Stroking firm and fast over and over, until he had become slack-jawed and whiny. Coming hard and spilling over his fist.

When it was over Marcus was filled with both relief and regret. How could he have allowed himself to lose control so easily in his lust. Lust for a man he hadn’t really even met. In a place he wasn’t sure was all it was promised to be. He was determined to talk it over with Copia in the morning. Hoping that the kind-hearted man who had reminded him so much of his mother would be able to give him the answers he needed.   

The office was warm and inviting. Unlike Sister Imperator’s, Marcus felt quite at home waiting for Copia the next morning on the sofa just beside his desk. Listening to the crackling fire in the fireplace and the scent of ink filling his senses. The room filled to the brim with books and tomes. Loads of art hung proudly on the walls—it was clear Copia was a man of academia and refinement. 

“I didn’t keep you waiting long, did I?” Copia asked as he managed to sneak in unnoticed by Marcus.

“No Cardinal, not long at all.”

“Good, good. Tell me piccolo…what is it you wanted to see me about?” he asked him, taking a seat beside Marcus on the sofa. Copia’s eyes were filled with concern and compassion. It was clear to Marcus that he had already become somewhat of a parental figure, a guide to him—a Virgil to his Dante. 

“I know that this is not like the rest of the world. Here we are open about our infernal roots, our true selves. Our worship of Lucifer… but I have to say even with all that Cardinal… I still find myself feeling out of place. Like maybe I don’t fit in here as much as you all thought I would. As much as I hoped I would.” Marcus confessed. 

“Marcus… do this for me, si?” Copia began, placing a hand atop his shoulder. 

“What?”

“Lose the smoke and mirrors, be who you are here. I know that Aether told you the glamour was fine, but I think it will help you to show your true self more. Live in your own skin.” Copia explained. Marcus did as asked, his ashen gray skin revealed as the facade slipped away. The markings on his tail, matching the tattoos on his arms. A tail that began whipping around nervously as his eyes turned to glow a deep blue hue.  

“Ah, there you are piccolo.” Copia smiled, giving Marcus a hug. The warmth from his embrace, helping Marcus to relax in his form. Copia slowly pulled back, crossing one leg over the other as he poured a glass of brandy from the side table bar. Handing it over to Marcus before pouring himself one.

“Thank you.” Marcus told him, taking a small sip of the thick brown liquid. The warmth from the alcohol, heating him a bit in his cheeks. 

“Don’t mention it piccolo… but listen, I had a feeling that there may be some struggles on the horizon for you and so I have taken the liberty of trying to find a solution.” Copia explained, taking a swig of the contents of his glass.

“Oh?” Marcus asked, more than a little curious of what to expect next. 

“You see, here we have some very special people here. Ones who have knowledge far beyond myself when it comes to your kind and well I figured it might help for them to be involved in your feeling more at home.” 

“Who? Aether has already been so—” Marcus began, Copia stopping him with the gesturing of his hand as he swallowed back the brandy.

“Of course, of course. Aether is great, but piccolo. You need someone far more experienced than that. Someone who knows not only infernal culture, but who can help guide you on your path of self discovery. I think you—-” Copia explained before a knock at the door stopped him. “Oh that is probably him now. Come in!” 

Marcus was immediately on edge as the door came open. Dying to know just who Copia had held such confidence in. Then with the appearance of a large grucifix ferula, Marcus would get his answer. From outside in the hall came Secondo Emeritus. 

He did his best to hide his nerves. Thanking Lucifer that he had only made an ass of himself to Secondo while in his glamour and not in his own skin. Secondo stepped into the office. His miter held proudly on his head and his stride, that of royalty as he went to take a seat adjacent to them in the office. 

“Papa, thank you for coming.” Copia began, fumbling his words a bit in Secondo’s presence. Clearly, he too was taken back by the sheer power and majesty the Papa possessed. 

“Of course, Cardinal. Is this?” he began before Copia nervously cut in.

“Si, this is Marcus. He is a new half Hellhound recruit that Aether found while in Germany. Seems he’s been a bit lost finding his place and well I figured if anyone could help it would be—”

“Ah, so the catulus needs a guide, eh?” Secondo smirked. All the color, draining from Marcus’s face as he realized Secondo knew EXACTLY who he was.  

“Uh…” Copia began.

“I don’t know, Cardinal. I may not be of use as you see Marcus seemed not to be too lost last evening when he had some rather… constructive words of advice for me and Sister Beatrice.” 

“I—” Marcus began gulping while his face turned a brilliant shade of red. Practically feeling the steam leaving his ears. The poor Cardinal left completely confused by the whole situation. 

“Seems the two of you have already met?” Copia asked. A bit of nervous laughter, leaving him as Secondo continued to stare directly at Marcus. His wickedly handsome face, filled with the satisfaction of what he was about to say.

“That we have. You were right to reach out to me Cardinal. Seems our puppy has much to learn.”

Notes:

Aldi/Edeka- Popular retail stores in Germany

Ist das echt? Sehe ich das wirklich?- Is this real? Am I really seeing this?

Catulus- puppy

[ghostchems]

infernal - terzo x f!reader - part seven

and now... a flashback chapter

art by the always amazing @piaart

author’s note: i feel like shit but it helped me finish this up. plenty of terzo pain here meanwhile reader is home, blissfully unaware. i also have no idea if my writing is good at this point but here ya go! part one/two/three/four/five/six. ao3 link.

If you could see the wreck I am these days, you’d have new reasons to stay away. Just hold my hand for a little while —

Misery never goes out of style.

Terzo traces a delicate finger along one of the bags under his eyes, no longer concealed by the dark eye paint he once wore. His brows furrow at the sight of himself in the mirror. The wrinkles have deepened since he left the stage. His hair, now less lustrous, betrays gray strands emerging from his roots and sideburns. All those years spent cultivating his image, trying to become the perfect imperfection that Lucifer himself boasted—only to unravel after one fateful show. He grits his teeth, his mismatched eyes sharpening in his reflection.

With all the glitz stripped away, he loathes how much he now resembles his father…

Terzo forces the thought out of his head. His days are spent analyzing his time as Papa and what went wrong. He wouldn’t do anything differently but it still stung, especially after the new heights and exposure he had achieved for the Ministry. Somehow, it was not enough. His father was never proud of him, a theme that stretched throughout his entire life. Terzo was only ever the Third to him, the third son that would serve his purpose and then be pushed aside for whoever was next. While this had been the typical progression, Terzo was the fool who thought he would be different — even after being warned by Secondo.

Secondo.

“Cazzo.”

He’s late for Uno Night.

The once-revered Emeritus brothers now find themselves relegated to a desolate corner of the abbey with their only entertainment being a silly card game. Their influence wanes with each passing day. Terzo can't help but sneer at the irony of their situation - former leaders now barely more than forgotten relics, with only each other’s company. There was a time when the Emeritus brothers were revered as gods among men. Crowds would surge forward at their concerts, desperate to touch the hem of their robes or catch a glimpse of their painted faces. Devotees would line up for hours, sometimes days, just for the chance to receive a blessing or a fleeting moment of attention. Their every word was treated as gospel, their gestures analyzed and imitated by legions of faithful followers.

In the halls of the Ministry, their presence commanded instant respect and adoration. Ghouls and Siblings of Sin alike would bow their heads in reverence as they passed. Their chambers were filled with lavish gifts from admirers - exotic incense, priceless artifacts, and fervent love letters. The very air seemed to crackle with power and dark allure whenever they entered a room. Now, that electric atmosphere has faded to a dull static. The gifts have stopped coming, the adoring crowds have moved on to newer, shinier idols. The once-mighty Emeritus brothers find themselves grasping at the fading light of their former glory, clinging to memories of a time when they were worshipped as the embodiments of their infernal master.

He used to delicately paint his face for each meeting, a ritual of devotion to himself and his roll as Papa. But now, as he stares at his bare face, he feels a bitter resentment towards the being he once revered. The paint feels like a mask of lies, concealing the growing doubts and anger festering within him. Lucifer's promises of power and glory now ring hollow in his ears, leaving only the taste of ash and disappointment. Terzo exhales through his nose and tears himself away from the mirror, satisfied with his appearance but frustrated with the progression of his thoughts. He had grown more disillusioned by the day with the cause he so passionately promoted, the being he worshipped. Lucifer, once his guiding light, now seemed like a cruel puppeteer, manipulating him for some cosmic joke.

Omega did not like these thoughts. In fact, Terzo has begun avoiding him and instead has been seeking the company of his brothers. Perhaps the one silver lining in all of this is that he is closer than he ever has been with his true family, minus daddy dearest, of course. They had grown up together, with Primo practically raising him and Secondo after they had come to the ministry. Back then he was a true zealot - a satanic lunatic whose fervor for the dark arts knew no bounds. It was from him that Terzo learned the intricacies of their infernal faith, absorbing every ritual and incantation with wide-eyed fascination. Yet, somehow, both Terzo and Secondo emerged less fanatical than their older brother.

But still competitors, nonetheless. Secondo and Terzo had been born to different mothers three months apart so it came naturally. The more time spent together now, the more they realize how similar they can be and deep down, Terzo wishes they had not been so combative. It was encouraged, though, fed and grown by the higher ups in the ministry and their father. Maybe they feared they would be too powerful if they were close.

Now all they care about is Uno.

"Fuck!" Terzo exclaims again, his voice tinged with frustration as he runs a hand tiredly over his face. The weight of his thoughts bears down on him, but he knows he can't afford to dwell any longer. With a deep sigh, he forces himself into action, slipping his feet into his shoes - the familiar spats clicking as he gets them on. Just as he reaches for the door handle, a sharp knock echoes through the room. Terzo pauses, his hand hovering in mid-air. Irritation flashes across his face.

"Enter," he calls out, his voice tinged with impatience.

The door creaks open, revealing a young Sibling of Sin. Their face is pale, eyes wide with fear and urgency. Terzo's irritation gives way to curiosity as he takes in their disheveled appearance.

"What is it?" he asks, his tone softening slightly.

The Sibling swallows hard before speaking, their voice trembling. "Papa, I... I have news. It's about Omega."

Terzo's eyebrows furrow. "Omega? What about him?" He nonchalantly goes back to adjusting his outfit, wondering if this is another plot from the ghoul to try and make him listen to “reason”. He certainly has stooped rather low, almost as low as Terzo.

The Sibling takes a deep breath, as if steeling themselves for what they're about to say. "He's been banished, Papa. Omega has been cast out of the Ministry."

The words hit Terzo like a physical blow. He stumbles back a step, his mind reeling. "Banished?" he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. "But... how? Why?" Pain is etched across his face.

The Sibling shakes their head, clearly as confused and shaken as Terzo. "I don't know the details, Papa. It happened so suddenly. They're saying it came from the highest levels of the Ministry."

Terzo's mind races, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Shock, confusion, and a sudden, unexpected pang of loss all vie for dominance. Despite their recent disagreements, Omega had been a constant in his life for so long. The thought of him being gone, cast out... it's almost inconceivable.

Terzo's composure shatters as the weight of the news crashes over him. His eyes flash with unbridled fury, causing the Sibling to take an involuntary step back. "Get out!" he roars, his voice reverberating off the walls. "Leave me! Now!" The Sibling, wide-eyed with fear, scrambles to obey, nearly tripping over their own feet in their haste to escape. Terzo slams the door with such force that the entire room seems to shake, the sound echoing through the corridors like a thunderclap.

As soon as the barrier between him and the outside world is secure, everything crumbles. A primal roar of anguish and frustration tears from his throat, echoing off the walls of his private chambers. In a whirlwind of unbridled emotion, he lashes out at his surroundings. His fist connects with the ornate mirror adorning his vanity, the impact sending a spider web of cracks across its surface before it shatters completely. Shards of glass rain down, glittering in the dim light like fallen stars.

But Terzo's rage demands more destruction. He overturns his meticulously organized desk, unleashing an avalanche of papers, pens, and trinkets onto the floor. Books, once neatly arranged on shelves, are torn free and flung across the room, their pages fluttering like disoriented birds. His wardrobe—a carefully curated collection of robes and suits that once symbolized his power and prestige—falls victim to his fury next. Garments are ripped from hangers and strewn about haphazardly, silk and velvet mingling with the debris below. Spotting one of his Papal robes, an early prototype, he seizes it and tears, splitting seams and fabric into pieces with savage force.

He could kill them. End the reign of his father and Sister Imperator with a knife to their throats, a hammer to their heads. He’s capable and he’s angry.

But that’s not who Terzo is.

His appetite for destruction is as swift as it is thorough. When the storm of his anger finally subsides, Terzo finds himself standing amidst the wreckage of his once-immaculate quarters. His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his knuckles having bloodied his gloves from his outburst. The room, previously a testament to his refined tastes and exalted position, now lies in utter ruin around him. He closes his eyes, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as the full weight of what has transpired begins to settle upon him.

The dust settles around him, both literally and figuratively, as his mind wanders to Omega. Their relationship, once the core of his existence within the Ministry, had deteriorated over the past several months, transforming into a strained and tenuous connection. The rift between them had widened, growing into a seemingly unbridgeable gap that threatened to swallow everything they shared whole. Omega, ever faithful of their infernal master, had persistently begged Terzo to embrace what he perceived as a well-deserved retirement—a supposed reward bestowed upon them by Lucifer himself for their years of unwavering service and dedication.

"Papa, you've more than earned this rest," Omega would implore, his eyes blazing with sheer intensity behind his cool mask that Terzo found increasingly difficult to look at. "Our Dark Lord Lucifer, in his infinite wisdom, has granted you this period of rest and reflection. Why do you persist in resisting? Can you not see the honor in this gift he has bestowed upon you?"

But for Terzo, the notion of settling into a life of idle luxury felt suffocating—a gilded cage that threatened to strip away everything he had fought so hard to achieve. The very thought of turning his back on the empire he had painstakingly built, nurtured, and expanded over the years felt like a betrayal of who he is and what defines him. As time wore on, his arguments with Omega grew increasingly heated and frequent, his frustration mounting with each tense exchange, threatening to boil over into hostility.

"You call this rest, Omega?" Terzo would retort, his voice rising with each impassioned word, hands gesticulating wildly to emphasize his point. "This isn't rest—it's nothing short of exile, a banishment from everything I've ever known and loved! How can you, of all people, expect me to sit idly by, content to watch as everything I've dedicated my life to—my very existence—crumbles around me like dust?" The air between them would crackle with tension during these confrontations, an electric charge that made it increasingly difficult for them to occupy the same space without the risk of conflict erupting at any moment.

Now, with the shocking news of Omega's sudden and unexpected banishment reverberating through the chambers of his mind, Terzo finds himself consumed with emotion. Relief, guilt, anger, and a profound sense of loss intertwine in a dizzying dance, each vying for dominance in the turbulent landscape of his mind. Despite their recent differences and the ever-widening divide between them, Omega had been a constant, unwavering presence in Terzo's life for longer than he cared to remember—a touchstone of familiarity. His abrupt absence leaves a gaping void in the fabric of Terzo's existence, a wound so deep and raw that he isn't certain he possesses the means to heal it.

Even with the turmoil raging inside him, Terzo finds himself drawn to the familiar comfort of his brothers' company. With a heavy sigh, he straightens his posture and smooths down his attire, a reflexive gesture from years of public appearances. He may be struggling, but he'll be damned if he lets it show—at least not to them. They have all had their hardships. If anyone knows and understands what he is feeling right now, it is his brothers. Terzo’s steps are heavy, using his feet to clear a path forward amidst everything now on the floor. He reaches the door, hesitating for just a moment. There’s a weight pressing down on him that threatens to crush him, to break him down until there’s nothing left.

He won’t let it.

Terzo opens the door and leaves his room. As he makes his way towards the small room where their Uno nights are held, his mind goes blank, going numb to the intense feelings that are simmering beneath the surface. He trudges down the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing off the ancient stone walls, focusing on that sound to keep him grounded. As he rounds a corner, lost in the maelstrom of his thoughts, a familiar voice catches his attention, causing him to halt abruptly.

Turning, he sees Cardinal Copia emerging from his office, a stack of papers tucked under one arm and an Uno card inexplicably held between two fingers of his free hand. The Cardinal's painted face breaks into a warm smile as he spots Terzo, oblivious to the storm brewing within the former Papa.

"Ah, Papa, on your way to Uno Night, yes?” The cheerful greeting hangs in the air, a stark contrast to the darkness swirling within Terzo.

Terzo's entire body tenses, his jaw clenching so tightly he can hear his teeth grind. The sight of him, so content and oblivious to the turmoil raging through the Ministry, ignites a fire in Terzo's chest—one that he had hoped was extinguished following his outburst in his room. His eyes narrow as he regards Copia with barely contained irritation. "Uno Night," he repeats, his voice low and controlled, though tension radiates from every syllable. "Mmm… yes." He takes a step closer to Copia, his presence suddenly looming and intimidating.

Copia's smile falters slightly, but he presses on, still oblivious and sweet. "It's become quite the tradition with your brothers, hasn't it?" He hesitates for a moment, then reaches into his sleeve and pulls out a blue reverse card. He holds it out to Terzo, a tentative peace offering. "Here, Papa. I always keep this one for luck. Perhaps... perhaps you'd like to have it for tonight's game?"

Terzo's gaze sharpens dangerously as he struggles to maintain his composure. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, fingers digging into his biceps. The sight of that blue card in Copia's hand—a symbol of the carefree life he now leads—causes the fire to spread inside him, consuming him yet again. Terzo’s voice, when he finally speaks, is low and menacing, barely above a whisper.

"Tradition?" His voice is guttural and rough. "You dare speak to me of tradition when everything is crumbling around us? When the very foundations of our world are ripped away from us?" His words are full of anguish and rage, each one striking Copia like a physical blow.

The Cardinal stumbles back, his expression morphing from confusion to outright fear. "P-Papa, I... I don't understand-" he stammers, his voice trembling.

"Of course you don't understand!" Terzo cuts him off, his composure shattering completely. "You're nothing but a pawn, a naive fool dancing to their twisted tune!" He gestures wildly, his movements sharp and erratic. "Do you have any idea what's happening beyond your little bubble of blissful ignorance? Omega is gone! Banished! Cast out like yesterday's trash! And here you stand, grinning like a fool, oblivious to the chaos swirling around you!"

Copia's eyes widen in shock, the full weight of Terzo's words finally sinking in. "Omega? But how- Why-" he begins, but Terzo is far from finished.

Terzo snatches the blue Uno card from Copia's hand, gripping it so hard it begins to crumble in his grip. "And this?" he spits, brandishing it like damning evidence. "You think this changes anything? You think a game can fix what's broken? This card, this... this mockery of what we once were!" His voice rises to a near-scream. "Do you have any idea what this represents? It's not just a game, you fool! It's everything we've lost, everything that's been taken from us!"

With a primal yell that seems to shake the very stones of the corridor, Terzo tears the card to shreds. The pieces flutter between them like confetti, a mockery of celebration in this moment of utter despair. Copia flinches, raising his hands as if to shield himself from the physical manifestation of Terzo's rage.

"P-Papa, please," Copia stammers, his voice barely above a whisper, a plea for understanding, for mercy. "I didn't mean to-"

But Terzo is beyond reason, beyond mercy. His voice drops to a low, dangerous hiss, each word dripping with venom. "Get out of my sight," he commands, his tone brooking no argument. "You don't belong here. You never will. You're nothing but a pale imitation, a cheap replacement for something you could never hope to understand. And take your pathetic games with you!"

As Copia retreats, practically running down the corridor, Terzo stands amidst the scattered remains of the card. His chest heaves with each ragged breath, anger and grief warring within him. In the sudden silence, the weight of his actions begins to settle upon him. He knows, in some distant corner of his mind, that he's overreacted, that Copia isn't truly to blame for the chaos engulfing their world. But in this moment, all he can feel is the crushing weight of loss - of his position, of Omega, of everything he once held dear. And that damned Uno card, now in pieces at his feet, seems to mock him with its cheerful blue color, a stark contrast to the darkness consuming his soul.

If only he could reverse being removed from the Papacy.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Terzo straightens his posture and adjusts his shirt in an attempt to calm himself. He struggles to push down the turmoil within, determined not to let his brothers see his inner struggle. As he approaches the card room, he steels himself, forcing his face into a mask of nonchalance.

Opening the door, he finds his brothers already seated. An almost startling wave of relief washes over him. He allows a scoff to escape his lips at the sight of Primo, face fully painted and wearing a Burberry scarf. Before he can comment, Secondo interjects.

"Already gave him trouble for it, stronzino. If you'd been on time, you could've joined." There's a glint of mischief in Secondo's eyes.

Terzo rolls his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his best efforts to maintain his aloof facade. He saunters over to the table, pulling up a chair with dramatic flair. "Well, shall we begin? I'm feeling particularly lucky tonight." He shoots a pointed look at Secondo, silently accepting the challenge in his brother's gaze.

He settles into his seat and the feeling of relief continues to spread through him. Here, surrounded by his brothers and the familiar rhythm of an extremely low-stakes card game, he can momentarily push aside his anger and frustration. In this room, he's not the fallen Papa or a disappointment to the Ministry - he's simply Terzo, the youngest of the Emeritus brothers, ready to lose himself in the game and forget, if only for a while, how far he has fallen.

On this particular evening, Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil would make an unexpected appearance, delivering news that would leave the brothers startled and confused.

They would be unable to continue their card game.

Terzo is deep in his desk chair, his body nearly slipped from it onto the floor. His gaze is locked on the the hell phone which has been ringing nonstop since you left for the night. Your taste is still on his tongue, your scent clinging to his robe. He’s afraid to move to disturb the haze he’s settled into, even though you would be back bright and early for work the morning after next. Fingers fall to his temples, rubbing them with each piercing ring of the phone.

He wouldn’t answer. He doesn’t want to face who is on the other line.

Was it Omega? What could he possibly say? He would only complicate matters—as he already has. The hell phone materialized before you, and you listened to the sounds of the abyss. It drove you into Terzo's arms and bed, but... you didn't deserve to experience such terrors or feel so frightened in his home. Or at least, if anyone was going to frighten you it should be him. His fingers drum along the arms of the chair, a deep grumble vibrating from his chest. The goal is to get you to stay, to devote yourself to him and only him. Yet the fear gnaws at him. What if the terrors you've witnessed push you away? The thought of losing you to the very darkness he once revered sends a chill through him. He wants you by his side, but you have to want to be there. Perhaps, he muses bitterly, this is another of Lucifer's cruel jokes—dangling happiness before him, only to threaten it with the very forces he once embraced.

Maybe the imp who fixed your tire that Terzo had shredded was calling. What was that all about? He didn’t have time to mull that incident over earlier while you were here. Is he manifesting things?

The memory of when he had accidentally shocked you resurfaces, Terzo's frown deepens. He recalls the pain on your face when he zapped your wrist. His gaze drifts to his hands, studying them as if they belong to a stranger. These hands that once commanded crowds, that channeled unholy energies with precision and purpose, now feel like unpredictable weapons. He clenches his fists, feeling the familiar tingle of power just beneath his skin. What if he hurts you again?

Another memory flits to the forefront of his mind — when he screamed at you over his relics being displayed causing a lightbulb to shatter. He remembers the fear in your eyes as it happened. It wasn't Lucifer's doing—it was his own power, his own lack of control. The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. Perhaps the true threat to your happiness, to any chance of a future together, isn't some external force or cosmic joke. It's him.

The silver lining is that you had seemed to be… into it. But what if next time, it's worse than a small shock or a broken bulb?

The thought sends a wave of despair crashing over him. Is he doomed to be alone, forever isolated by the very gifts that once made him special? The irony isn't lost on him—he who once reveled in his dark powers, who used them to seduce and enthrall, now fears them as the very thing that might drive you away. Terzo slumps further in his chair. The illusion of his perfection continues to fade but he’s stubborn. Unwilling to change his ways even though he knows he can be cruel and difficult.

He originally expected you to just deal with it.

Terzo rises with a frustrated growl, letting the hell phone continue its incessant ringing. He stalks over to his liquor cabinet, hands trembling slightly as he pours himself a generous measure of whiskey. What have you done to him? How dare you make him want to be better? He decides he must, at the very least, attempt to protect you from whatever hell seemingly has in store for you. This includes tempering his emotions, an obvious factor of his otherworldly abilities. Seriously, how dare you?

Taking a long swig, he savors the burn as it slides down his throat. It's a familiar comfort, one that does little to reduce the budding anxiety he feels. With a heavy sigh, he turns his back on the still-ringing phone and retreats to his bedroom, drink in hand. The door closes behind him, muffling the sound of the hell phone but he can still feel its presence. Terzo takes another sip, hoping to drink himself into unconsciousness.

Only two sleeps until he sees you again.

[mx-pastelwriting]

Ghost HC - Taking a nap in the Papa's lap while they work

Ghost x GN! Reader

Summary: Taking a nap in the Papa's lap while they work.

Warnings: Fluff, Established Relationship, Lap Sitting, Napping/Sleeping

Characters: Primo, Secondo, Terzo, Copia

Primo

- Very open and used to it, being the eldest of his brothers having experience soothing someone to sleep, especially in his lap. It had been years since then, as his brothers were no longer little.

- Surprised at first, looking up from his work, seeing your tired face welcoming you with open arms, with mixed feelings of love and guilt from working late, leaving you sleepless in a cold bed.

- Wrapping you up in his warm arms, gently patting your back, patiently waiting for sleep to take effect. Once asleep, he returns to work, writing quietly, planting kisses on your head with every page turn.

- Giving a dirty look to anyone who entered his office, sister, papa, or ghoul all get the same treatment, even kicking those who were too loud out. Even with the ones who were lucky to stay, he ignored their stares while forcing them to talk in a whisper.

- Once finished with his work, feeling another pang of guilt having to wake you, choosing to do so with soft kisses while cupping your face whispering sweet Italian nothings.

Primo sighed at the loud noise of his office door being opened, seeing Terzo's head poke in, greeted with the eldest crooked stare. The stare did little to his younger brother, watching as he threw a folder on the desk with a loud smack.

"You haven't changed one bit, brother." Putting down his pen at Terzo's words, giving a harder stare to his brother's smug face. "Did they get a bedtime story too?" he says lastly before rushing out of the office to avoid Primo's protective wrath.

However, as you stirred against his chest, the wrath swiftly dissipated, causing the papa to forget the stack of work before him and embrace you tightly, patiently waiting for sleep to return.

-

Secondo

- Would have to talk him into it or beg, as he always hated when Terzo would fall asleep on his shoulder when they were little, but seeing your tired face, he folds so fast. Spending his evening in the ministry's front room, sat on the long couch next to the stained-glass window, looking over sister's response to his filings.

- Feeling your presence behind the packet of papers, seeing you wrapped in a blanket, begging. With a loud sigh, picking up the stack of papers on his lap, throwing them to the floor.

- Even when cuddling in bed, he sighs, acting slightly annoyed, but secretly loves every minute of your sleeping face lying comfortably on his chest. Placing one hand on your back, caressing lightly while continuing to look over paperwork.

- Wouldn't bother looking at who passed by, sister or papa, but always looked down at you when Siblings of Sin walked by, whispering amongst each other about the sight. The reputation of Secondo was one of many rumors, yet here you were sparking new ones.

- Fails to even finish his work, being so comfortable, papers still in hand as he nods off. Waking up from his snores, leaving you with the job of putting the papa to bed.

Waking to the loud rumble of snores, sitting up in the papa's lap, seeing the melted sleeping face of Secondo. Holding back a laugh as his mouth hung agape, looking around, spotting the papers that were loosely clutching in his hand.

Removing the files from his hand to the other side of the couch before thinking of how to wake him. Cupping the papa's face lightly, only getting to plant a single kiss before quickly waking up, smiling at his confused state. Moving off Secondo's lap, slowly getting used to standing, taking his hand and pulling up, holding back a joke about his old bones.

-

Terzo

- Does not understand when first being asked, assuming you mean something else that involves his lap. Only once you climb onto his lap and cuddle up does he understand with a small "Oh." Though it is somewhat new to him, only having your past nights together will give him an idea.

- Having stayed in the ministry's library for the whole morning ordered by sister to reread the teachings, so when you appear, he's so happy, kicking the book aside.

- A bit disappointed you didn't take him away from all the work, but nonetheless, he holds you close. Wrapping his arms around you while holding the book up against your back, resting against his chest, having a racing heartbeat to fall asleep to.

- Sitting in the back corner of the library, liking for people to have the thrill of finding him, just to tease them when they do. So only his ghouls ever came across the sight, but they cared very little about their papa's antics.

- Lasting only thirty minutes before putting down the book, turning his attention to you. Lovingly admiring your sleeping face, tempted to shower you with kisses, though holding back, not wanting to wake you even if it meant spending the night sitting in the quiet library.

Gently, Terzo's hand glided up and down your back, feeling the soft fabric that covered it, using both arms to hold you close and safe, not caring for the book of teachings.

Being ready to take sister's scolding later, her words pushed out of his mind in place of you. Looking softly with his two-toned eyes at your smushed face that lay against his chest. Imagining you heard every breath and race of his heart from your presence alone, carefully placing a kiss atop your head, causing a stir of movement, quickly the papa held his breath, fearing he'd woken you.

-

Copia

- Agrees shyly to the ask, a bit overwhelmed, feeling you on his lap, making it harder to concentrate. In the past, having many cuddle parties with the rats and him, but this was very different, being so closely intimate with no moves to escalation.

- Interrupting his work of looking over the new tour dates, sat on the living room couch late in the evening. Thinking it was time for dinner when you came to him only stopping from getting up when you asked.

- Confusingly agrees, only realizing what he agreed to when you sit down, hesitantly taking you in his arms, struggling a bit to go back to reading. When used to the loving action, he rests his head atop yours, tempted to fall asleep himself.

- A bit embarrassed if someone came across the sight, wanting to move in his seat, but warned not to by your stirs. After a few times getting used to being seen in such a tender position, even by sister, he still squirms a bit, but her smile reassures him.

- In the end, when sister comes in to call you both for dinner, she withdraws after seeing not wanting to interrupt, instead having one of his ghouls bring up some plates to your shared room.

Slipping out of the cold bed, sleepily waddling out of the bedroom into the living room, met the sight of Copia nose-deep in tour dates.

"Cardi," your voice turns his attention, slowly putting down the stapled papers with eyes that soften at the sight of you. "Can I take a nap with you?" quickly, nodding to your question, climbing onto his lap, lying against his chest.

Tangling up his limbs with yours, then planting a kiss on your cheek before finding a way to go back to reading smiling at the sound of your snores.

Lightly patting your back while reading along the lines, not hearing sister's heels echoing down the hall. Spooked by the sound of a knock and the front door opening, sister's head in the opening before quickly retreating, seeing the sight of you two.

-

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @littlebitchsposts @urlocalfanficwriter

[her-satanic-wiles]

Bejewelled

Papa Emeritus II x Reader

It’s Papa Secondo’s birthday, and after spending the whole day working, he just wants to relax. But how can he when his favourite Sister of Sin is being a bad girl in front of everyone?

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by @inkstainedrat

Words: 5.6k.

Reading Time: 22 min.

Warnings: anal play, begging, breeding degradation, cock warming, creampie, dubcon, fingering, frottage, free use, groping, hair pulling, mentions of cunnilingus, mentions of fellatio, pain kink, PIV sex, positive degradation, praise, rough sex, spanking, spit as lube, underprepared, unprotected sex (Embrace safety - enjoy it greatly), vaginal sex,

Taglist: @inkstainedrat @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @socksandcr0cs @dio-niisio @duskspring @foxybouquet @likeloversentwined

Thank you to @da-rulah, @angellayercake and @tasty-ribz for workshopping some of these ideas with me and getting me on track!

🔞 MDNI 🔞

You settled into your space at the meeting table, notepad opened to the next available page and date written at the top of it in neat handwriting. You had taken on a more secretarial role for the Ministry, providing the reigning Papa with a helping hand as he went about his daily schedule. The other clergy members were already sat and settled like you, cardinal robes of black and red alternating the seats like chess pieces on a board, broken occasionally by the odd sibling of sin who’d, like you, joined to either take notes for their respective bosses, or provide insight on the general running of the Ministry where the upper clergy couldn’t assist. In short, everyone was ready and waiting, conversations slipping past your ears as certain cardinals spoke over you, not to you. But they soon silenced themselves when the door opened and Papa Emeritus II walked through the doors.

Papa Secondo, despite being a softhearted, kind man, oozed an intimidating aura that put men in their place just by his presence alone. Papa Secondo was not a man to be trifled with, played with, or undermined in any way. His word was law, even among his brothers, one of which outranked him in both age and experience. He took no shit, dished out as much as he could, and ultimately threw his weight around in a respectable, yet authoritative way. Just the mere look of his scowl would have your thighs clenching, and heat pooling between your legs - and you weren’t the only one affected by this.

Papa Secondo’s personality was much different to that of his brothers. Before he met you, he would almost never seek a woman out, he’d rarely approach her, rarely proposition her - in fear of making her uncomfortable mostly, but he also didn’t want to blend in with the other men in the Ministry, his younger brother included, who would approach and whine and beg for the ladies to spread their legs and invite him in willingly. Besides, there was something inside him that loved being chased rather than doing the chasing. The idea that a beautiful woman would want him so much, she’d run after him and coyly ask if he’d give her some company later on. That a beautiful woman would want him so much, that she’d face the fear of rejection in front of her friends and potentially embarrass herself, just to get the opportunity to hold him. He’d never approach a woman, but he’d also never reject one either. And, as he entered the room, your eyes darted to all the other sisters who were equally as squirmy as you, the mere proximity being too much for you all to handle.

It always made you feel smug knowing he had such an affect on the rest of the clergy, but would always come back to you no matter what.

Men feared him. Women wanted him. Somehow, the perfect man did exist, and he wore black, glitter paints and silenced a room just by opening a door.

“Buon pomeriggio.” He said, his deep voice quiet yet commanding. He kept his eyes straight in front of him as he entered the room, not bothering to spare a glance to his colleagues until he’d approached his seat at the head of the table and directly opposite you. You were the first person his mismatched eyes had landed on, reminding you that to him, you were the most important person in the room despite your low ranking among his peers. Once he’d registered your existence, he sat down and situated himself comfortably, gloved hands immediately opening his own folder to pull out the important documents for the meeting. Once he’d personally acknowledged everyone else in the room, he cleared his throat and began.

“Ora, we have many things on the agenda today, so I would like to start immediately, by Sathanas and the mother, Lilith, we thank and worship thee as we do ourselves. Nema.”

“Nema.” Came the chorus of the clergy.

“Cardinale Zhang,” he looked towards the man and you watched as Cardinal Zhang startled at the sudden attention. Papa Secondo noticed, and despite his face being emotionless and stoic, a flicker of amusement passed across his eyes, feeding on the Cardinal’s fear. “You have been visiting universities to de-stigmatise the Faith. Update me, how is that going?”

Cardinal Zhang swallowed and cleared his throat doing his best to hide his nerves. He failed, obviously. He began talking, detailing his efforts across the Atlantic in America and how he’d shown up for each of the universities along the East Coast, hoping to break through to the youth. But as a lot of that part of America were staunch ‘Red States’ and Christians, he was met with a lot of resistance.

Secondo, somewhat surprisingly, was understanding with his response. For once, he didn’t criticise the Cardinal’s failure, or what he deemed as such, rather the country’s unwillingness to be open to change. He quickly followed up that comment with another about Salem, and how they were always welcomed with open arms there thanks to the work of previous clergy members who’d moved to set up temples and places of worship.

He then moved on quickly to the next outreach programme, opening the Ministry doors once a month for visitors and tours of the historical building they all called home - another effort of de-stigmatisation that was under the watchful eyes of Cardinal Garcia. His tone softened when he spoke to her, his eyes never leaving hers as he listened intently to everything she had to say. “We get upwards of one thousand visitors per weekend, Papa.” She confirmed in an upbeat tone. “This is a 20% increase of last year. We’re still keeping our entrance fee at 20 Euros for now,” she handed a sheet of paper to one of the Ghouls standing behind her, who then brought it to Papa Secondo to browse at his leisure, which he did, “Last month alone we received approximately 20,080 Euros. Our finance specialists have worked closely with our social media team, and have worked out we may get roughly a further 500 guests next month, an additional 50% growth, which should tip us over the 20,500 Euro benchmark.”

“Can we quantify the impact of these tours on public perception and understanding of our beliefs and values?” Papa asked, not taking his eyes off the paper.

“I believe so, Papa. On average,” she handed another sheet of paper to a Ghoul, “30% of guests purchase a membership of the Satanic Church, and organise unholy baptisms. 10% actively apply to work and live here full time.”

“How many of these applications get accepted?”

“Recently, with all the moves and changes of our staff, around 50% got accepted last month. But usually, we only select from the most impressive, which is, as accurately as I can describe it, a handful.”

“Are any of our parishes around the world asking for more siblings?”

“I’m not sure, Papa. That’s Cardinal Smith’s jurisdiction.”

Papa’s eyes snapped to Cardinal Smith, another man who shivered beneath the weight of Papa’s gaze. “Well?” He snapped, expectantly, clearly annoyed by Cardinal Smith’s lack of initiative.

“W-we have had a few requests, Your Dark Eminence.” Cardinal Smith stammered.

“And how many siblings have been transferred?”

“Well, n-none.”

Papa’s eyebrows raised. “None? Questo è un cazzo di scherzo assoluto! Perché? Why are you not assisting our unholy siblings?”

“We couldn’t spare the people.”

“Sei stupido, Cardinale Smith?”

“N-no, Your Dark Eminence.”

“Then why do you not liaison with Cardinale Garcia and ask her to accept more applicants to send them overseas after their education?”

“I d-didn’t think.”

“Ah. Non mi sorprende, Cardinale. A brain as smooth as yours must be kept shiny and pristine, sì? Cannot be worried about trivial tasks such as thinking.” His tone softened again as he turned to - “Cardinale Garcia, work with Cardinale Stronzo in providing new applicants for our unholy siblings overseas, per favore.” He turned to another woman in the room. “Cardinale Kim, I would also like you to work on this with Cardinale Garcia and Smith to speed up our applicants education and send them out to their respective countries. When you have the time, of course.”

“Of course, Papa.” Cardinal Kim responded.

“I thank Lilith that there are two intelligent women on this job. Sathanas knows we’d fall apart if it was left only to the smooth brained of us in the room.” He cleared his throat. “Sorella ___,” he said addressing you, “are you getting all of this?”

You didn’t look up from your notebook, wrist aching from all the minutes you were taking. “It would help if you spoke slower, Papa.” You replied, insubordinately. You didn’t need to look at Papa to know he was looking at you furiously. “Either that or let me bring my laptop to these meetings.”

“Your laptop is too loud.” He protested through gritted teeth.

You finally looked at him, a small grin on your face. “Then speak slower. Please.”

He sighed and sat back in his seat, staring daggers into your soul. You were usually so sweet and polite to him - his little angioletta who respected him in front of everyone in the vicinity, who behaved so obediently behind closed doors and thanked him for all that he gave you. You were never bratty to your Papa, never rude or obnoxious. “You’re very audacious today, little one.” He commented, his tone commanding your obedience lest you face a punishment.

You persisted, the idea of dealing with your angry Papa later on too delectable to give up now. Papa would often take his frustrations out on you, an agreement between the both of you allowed him to take your consent and use you as he pleased, whenever he pleased. You would always spread your legs willingly for him, or bend yourself over and arch your back just as he liked without him uttering a single word, and depending on the kind of day he’d had, you’d either be worshipped, or bruised by his daily frustrations. You’d told him through bright red cheeks once that you thoroughly enjoyed him using you to deal with his anger, and so, he would have you whenever he felt even a little bit perturbed. But never were you the reason for his anger, not until today. And the way he looked at you now had your hole clenching around nothing, and a need to push him until he snapped and bubbled beneath your surface. You’d started now, you didn’t think you’d be able to stop until he put you back in your place.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be blamed for missing even a drop of your wisdom.”

The rest of the room shifted uncomfortably as the tension became so thick, you’d need a chainsaw to cut through it.

“I’d hold my tongue if I were you, angioletta.”

“But you’re not me, Papa.”

Papa dropped into a foul mood for the rest of the meeting, shooting you angry looks and constantly asking if he was being slow enough for you. But eventually, the meeting came to an end, and Papa pushed everyone out of the room, keeping you in your place. As soon as the door closed, in a harsh tone, he broke the silence. “Angioletta, what was that?”

“What was what, Papa?” You asked, feigning innocence.

“Don’t play dumb with me - you know what you did. Sathanas, ___. Since when do you have sass with your Papa, hm? Since when do you show your Papa such disrespect?” He sighed at your lack of answer. He stood and walked over to you, looking down on you as you remained seated in your chair. You weren’t looking up at him, instead keeping your gaze straight on the seat he was sat in before, and he didn’t appreciate this either. With his finger and his thumb, he gently pinched your chin and guided your face to look at him, forcing eye contact with you. “I expect you on your best behaviour tonight, angioletta. Capisce? No sass, no back talk. Just doting on your Papa on his birthday, sì?”

“Happy birthday, Papa.” You said, softly, a smile playing on your lips. Wholesome. Nonsuspect.

“Grazie, amore mio.” He bent down to kiss your forehead then left you alone in the room, seemingly unaware that you’d never actually agreed to anything.

That evening, you dressed in your finest for your Papa, choosing a dress gifted to you by him. It was just something simple, a body con black dress that hugged your curves in all the right ways, paired with a Satanic pentagram harness that he loved to see you in. It was really no effort at all, but your Papa would certainly enjoy you tonight. A feast for his eyes - at least you hoped.

You were one of Secondo’s earliest guests, besides his older brother Papa Primo, arriving at his quarters and knocking on the door before entering. Papa Primo greeted you warmly, and welcomed you in, placing a drink in your hand. You could already smell the dinner coming from Secondo’s private kitchen and felt your stomach growl in hunger. You were so ready for the feast to begin - and for your torture of your Papa to continue. You weren’t just ravenous for the food, especially when you saw him enter the dining room, not wearing his usual robes but still painted in his official paints. His suit was perfectly tailored, cut to each contour of his body, and made from a rich, cold, emerald green. Velvet. Accompanied by a deep green tie and his favourite black-painted fingernails. In his robes he was divine. In a suit? You were feral.

As soon he saw you, you watched as his glittery eyes darkened, and his chest reflected a deep sigh. The second he was beside you, his hands grasped onto your hips and pulled you into him, lips attaching to your neck. He didn’t care that he already had other guests - he didn’t care that he may be smudging his paints. He was too intoxicated by you to do anything other than dig his fingers into the meat of your flesh and inhale your seductive perfume, bewitching him beyond belief. He was ready to drop to his knees and worship you there and then, except you pushed him away.

“I haven’t forgotten how you spoke to me earlier, Papa.” You chided, keeping your voice as level as you could and holding back your giggles when his expression changed.

“Angioletta,” he practically whined, “you promised.”

“No,” you poked his chest, “you laid down the law. I never told you I’d follow it.”

“You want to make me suffer all night, hm? Embarrass me in front of everyone.”

“I never want to embarrass you, Papa. I’d like an apology.”

He frowned. “For what?”

You sighed. “Use that big, wrinkly brain of yours and think.” And with that, you walked away. In truth he had nothing to apologise for and you both knew it. But you enjoyed watching him stew away in his mind, greeting and welcoming guests and trying to maintain a semblance of composure. You were teetering on the line between enjoyment and cruelty, though. And you’d need to end this quickly so as not to actually spoil his birthday.

Secondo’s quarters had never been so lively, but even then, they were lively by Secondo’s standards. To celebrate his birthday, all of the people closest to him had gathered in his chambers, crowded around his long dining table (that he mostly used for work), and feasted on the delightful Italian delicacies hand crafted by the Ministry’s chefs, whom you’d paid extra to cook for everyone for the evening. Amidst the clinking of glasses filled with the Ministry’s own wine, and the aroma of garlic-infused dishes wafting through the air, the place was abuzz with laughter and conversation, but your attention was solely fixed on one man – Papa Secondo himself.

He sat beside you at the head of the table, his natural scowl creasing his glabella as he looked upon his guests and listened to their conversations, responding only when he needed to, but enjoying the atmosphere, nonetheless. His paints were perfectly worn, not a single line bent or crooked, or even smudged with the wine he’d drunk, or the food he’d so gracefully placed into his mouth as though he were the epitome of sophistication - which, to be fair, he was. His Roman nose making his profile so intoxicating, so powerful, you found yourself staring at him, drinking in the love of your life and appreciating him silently for the work of art he was.

Secondo cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping across the room as he prepared to address his guests. “My dear friends, I want to take this moment to express my gratitude for your presence here tonight,” he began, his voice carrying authority and warmth. “Your loyalty and support mean more to me than you can imagine.”

You couldn’t resist interjecting with a sassy remark. “Oh, how touching, Papa,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “I almost believe you mean it.”

The room fell into a momentary silence as everyone turned their attention to the unexpected exchange between you both. Secondo’s expression darkened, his jaw tensing as he turned to face you.

“Sorella,” he said through gritted teeth, his tone a warning.

But you refused to back down, your gaze challenging. “What, Papa? Can’t handle a little honesty?” You retorted, your voice edged with defiance. You squirmed in your seat under the heat of his gaze, the unbridled anger that oozed off him like peach juice dripping down one’s chin. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest as you watched him become more and more enraged at your attitude, and you tried so hard not to let your enjoyment show.

Secondo’s eyes narrowed, a flash of irritation crossing his features before he regained his composure. “I expect respect in my presence, Sorella,” he replied, his voice low and controlled.

You took a sip of your wine and set your glass down. “And yet, you don’t always deserve it.”

“My room. Now.” He all but hissed. His grip on his glass was choking, and you could almost see it shattering in his hand from the force. You’d done it. You got him. Now was the time to obey. You stood and made your way to his bedroom as instructed, hearing him excuse you both and urge his guests to continue without him. The part where he was announcing that he was going to scold you for your behaviour was missing, but certainly implied, and within a few seconds you heard him chase after you and the guests murmuring in the background, only to be blocked by him slamming the door shut.

“What the fuck was that, hm?” He growled, his hand coming up to your hair and pulling it at the roots, making you look into his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Papa!”

“Sorry? Amore mio, it’s a little late for that, do you not think? Embarrassing me in front of everyone.”

You laughed.

“Che cos’è questo? Laughing at your Papa?” He stopped, a realisation dawning on him. “Ah. I see how it is. My angioletta is giving into sin tonight? Becoming a whore to anger her Papa.” He released you and gestured to the bed. “Hands on the bed. Now, amore.” You obeyed him for the first time that day, resting your hands on the bed and bending at the waist, exposing your ass to him. You knew what was coming, your core clenching in anticipation of feeling his hand come down on you at full force. You arched your back as much as you could, allowing your ass to pop for him, and hearing him groan in appreciation when you did.

“You wanted to play with your Papa,” he said coming up behind you, “so let’s play, hm?”

His hand came down on your left ass cheek, the sting you enjoyed so much muffled by layer of fabric still (barely) covering your body. The first hit was gentle, barely stinging at all. As angry as Secondo was, he still took his time with you, making sure he didn’t hurt you too much and too quickly. He mirrored this on your right cheek, back to your left, back to your right. Each hit gradually landed harder and harder, and you needed to bury your face into his sheets to hide your cries lest his guests hear what was happening. With each slap, your body jumped in response, as if it was shocked to receive the hits your mind knew was coming. You knew you were getting redder with each slap, which would only egg Secondo on more when he saw it for himself.

He lifted your dress up, exposing your black panties fully and bunching the hem around your waist, and, as predicted, groaned at the sight of you. Secondo was an artist, and you were always his favourite canvas. He began to slap your bare cheeks, revelling in the deep red that was forming on your skin, relishing in the dampened moans coming from you. “This is no punishment for you at all, is it?” He commented, punctuating his sentence with more slaps, now using both of his hands. “You love it when your Papa hits you like this, don’t you?” He slapped you much harder when you didn’t answer. “Do not be rude, angioletta.”

“Yes, Papa!” You responded, your voice coming out as a moan. “I love it!”

“I bet you’ve soaked through these slutty little panties, haven’t you?” He moved his left hand to the gusset of your panties, using his four fingers to rub against your cunt and his thumb rested against your asshole as an anchor.

Usually, he’d be met with your soft flesh and twitching hole, and would tease it over your panties, too, just to drive you wild. But today, his thumb met with something hard, and him putting pressure there caused you to moan out loud. “Che cazzo?” He asked, rubbing his thumb over the ridges. His hand, damp from the juices that had soaked your panties, came up to the waistband and roughly pulled them off you, hissing at the sight of him. Buried deep inside your twitching hole, was a butt plug, with an emerald resin gem sitting atop the metal base. “Puttana.” Though his words were degrading, the tone in which he said them was appreciative. He loved this little surprise, his cock growing harder and harder beneath his velvet slacks and begging to bury itself into one of your holes. “How long have you been wearing this?”

“All da-ay!” Your voice hiccuped when you felt his fingers hook around the base and jiggle it.

“No wonder you’ve been acting like a bitch today, amore. You’ve been in heat all day, hm? Did you want me to bend you over the table in the meeting room? Is that why you’ve been provoking me all day?”

“Y-yes, Papa. Want… wanted you to f-fuck me all day! Shit.”

“Wanted your Papa to ruin your holes, hm?”

“Yesss!”

He landed another hard spank on your right cheek with his right hand, much harder than the others. That, coupled with the way he was still playing with the plug, caused a moan to escape your lips, much louder than the others.

You heard him play with his belt, unbuckling it and then the buttons of his slacks, before you finally heard the zipper undo. “Hands and knees, ass in the air.” He ordered. You climbed fully onto the mattress, feeling his hand come down on you more and more as you got situated for him. “Gonna put this fuckhole to good use.”

You felt his girth rub against your folds, getting wetter with your slick with each movement. When he stopped and pulled away, you chanced a glance behind you and watched what he was doing, cunt clenching when you saw his head bowed, a thick glob of spit falling from his mouth and landing on his cock. He pumped himself a few times, spreading the saliva over his entire length before spitting again and repeating until he deemed himself wet enough. He plunged two of his fingers inside you, pumping only a few times to get you stretched out a little more before lining himself up with your hole.

You heard him chuckle darkly behind you. “I’m gonna enjoy this - but you won’t.”

That was all the warning he gave you before he pushed inside you, his considerable thickness stretching you out beyond compare. Usually he’d prepare you more, make you cum for him all over his tongue before he even considered fucking you with his cock. But not tonight. He didn’t have the time nor the will to. This was meant to be a punishment, after all. Prepared or not, you adored the initial stretch every single time he slid into you. He always burned so deliciously, but sometimes there was a hint of pain that sent shivers down your spine and had your toes curling and fingers digging into whatever surface you were being fucked on.

Secondo took his time bottoming out, enjoying watching your body tense below him from the pain of it, and smiling at your cunt clenching down on him. “There we go.” He said, gripping onto your ass cheeks as he bottomed out inside you, fingers rubbing over your raw flesh and causing a bigger sting to wash over you. He used your body as leverage to help him slam into you, setting a rough pace right away and knocking the wind out of you. He pulled gutteral moans out of you, deep, animalistic grunts that you had no control over as he fucked into you like a madman finally getting his fix.

The sound of your cunt taking him back in over and over again was so loud, you were sure his guests could hear you from the other room. It made Secondo want to bite you, sink his teeth into you like an apple, and feel your juices coat his mouth while he licked and sucked at your core. But he was pretending that this was a punishment for you - he couldn’t consciously do something that would make you cum. Well, maybe a finger or so later on. For now, you were his to fuck around with, and he could hear and feel just how much you enjoyed it.

“You’re so fucked up for liking this, amore.” He taunted, releasing grunts and growls of his own. “A pain slut for her Papa. Cazzo!”

He pushed your hips down, making you lie flat on your stomach, legs dangling off the edge and making you feel helpless below him. He put his entire weight on your body as he railed you into the mattress, rough, quick thrusts making your body bounce and your ass ricochet off his own hips.

“I don’t like hurting you, angioletta.” A growl ripped from his throat. “But you need to learn how to respect your Papa. Apologise for making me do this to you.”

“I- I’m so…rry, Papa-ah!”

“Brava ragazza.”

Every time you made a sound, he landed another hit on your ass, making you redder and rawer. He loved it - but equally, so did you. Even on the days when he was taking his anger out on you, he wouldn’t often be this rough. He wouldn’t laugh at your cries, or push into you without taking his time with you first. Each thrust drove you more and more insane, degraded you more and more to the point where you felt like nothing but his own, personal fuck toy. His own whore who spread her legs so willingly, she became a desperate slut for her master.

He pulled at the plug again, laughing when you jumped. “So much tighter with this thing in your ass.”

“Papa - it… it’s t-too much!”

“You should have respected your Papa, then maybe he’d treat you delicately, hm?”

“Papa, please!”

“You can take it, can’t you?”

He was met with a loud moan.

“Can’t you, puttanella?”

“Y-yes!”

“Of course you can. Only sluts can take a cock this big.”

You forced your hand in between your body and the mattress and found your clit, rubbing at it while Secondo pounded into you. It was a struggle, and made Secondo laugh at you as you tried. He put more weight onto your body to make it more difficult for you, but you were able to get there eventually and furiously play with that bundle of nerves and work yourself to the edge.

“I love looking at you like this.” He said suddenly, watching your arm move as you rubbed faster and faster. You looked so desperate for him. So needy. “You gonna cum for me?” He asked as he felt you getting tighter for him, the telltale signs making themselves present. “You gonna cum all over Papa’s cock like a whore?”

“Yes, Pa-pa!”

“Merda! Beg for it.”

“I n-need to cum s-oh bad Papa! Please! Pl-please let me cum on your f-fat cock.”

“Oh, just like that, brava ragazza. It’s okay, you can let go.”

Secondo could feel you getting tighter for him, working yourself closer and closer to an orgasm as he took you for his own pleasure, and for some of yours. He should pull out soon, he knew he should, but you were so tight for him in this position, so wet and pliant. He couldn’t control himself. He couldn’t bring himself to pull out and cum on your body. One particularly rough thrust had you finally tumbling over the edge, face contorting in beautiful agony as you came over him, creaming on his cock and screaming silently into the mattress. He didn’t let up as you came, instead, he used your body tensing as an excuse to go just a little harder, making your orgasm more intense the longer it went on.

Your orgasm had Secondo teetering on the edge himself, staving off his own orgasm to ensure yours felt good. But once he was sure you’d finished, he began to pull out of you, finally working the courage to escape from your clutches. It wasn’t until he felt your heels in his ass, where your legs had bent backwards to keep him there, he realised you wanted his cum inside you just as much as he did.

“Please, Papa!” You begged quietly, lifting your head off the sheets and turning to look at him over your shoulder. “Give it to me. I want your cum inside me so fucking bad. Please!”

“Yeah, amore? You want me to knock you up, is that it? So desperate for her Papa’s cum she wants him to breed her like a bitch. Been in heat all day, still acting like a fucking animal.”

“Give it to me, Papa! Cum deep inside me, please!”

“Okay, angioletta. Papa will give you what you want.” He pushed himself deeper, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. “Gonna fuck a baby into you, you ready?”

“Yes! Yes, Papa, like that!”

“Cazzo!” A string of expletives followed as you talked him through it, continuing to beg him for his seed while he pumped it deep inside you. He gripped hold of you, your skin and fat pinched tightly under his strong, masculine hands as he grasped onto you to keep him grounded while he reached nirvana. He bent forward more, his forehead rubbing against your shoulder blades and paints transferring onto the fabric of your dress, but you didn’t care about that, enjoying the feeling of his erratic thrusts as he fucked his cum into your sensitive heat until he eventually rolled to a stop, laboured breaths ringing in your ear despite his mouth being so far away.

“Sathanas, ___.” He groaned, keeping his full weight on your body, too exhausted to move. “Mi farai morire.” You felt his lips kiss your shoulder blades, the dull feeling bringing warmth and comfort to your adrenaline-filled body.

“Are you okay?” You asked, equally as exhausted as him.

“No.” He replied with a giggle, which you echoed. “I can’t move anymore.”

“That’s okay, we can wait here for as long as you need.”

“The guests, amore mio.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

He groaned. “I don’t have the strength.”

You laughed at his joke.

Somewhere inside him, he found the strength to pull out of you, both of you groaning at the loss of contact. He rolled off you, and lay on his back, allowing his body to flop into any position it deemed comfortable. You didn’t know how he did that, you could barely keep your eyes open.

He looked at you before rushing to the bathroom to get a damp cloth to clean you up, gently wiping at your sensitive centre to try and help you. “I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?”

“Nothing I didn’t want, Papa.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise.”

He placed the washcloth on the bedside table and pulled you into his arms, finally kissing your lips for the first time.

“Happy birthday, Papa.” You whispered.

Before he could respond, a knock at the door sounded gently, pulling your attention to it. “Fratello?” Cardinal Terzo’s voice sounded from the other side. “Now that you two have finished fucking, we should let you know we’re all gonna go.”

You hid your face in embarrassment despite the fact the only person who could see you was Secondo, who was laughing at your reaction.

“See you later, fratellino.”

“Later, sluts!”

There was a silence for a little while before Secondo heard the sound of your breathing mellowing out, realising then you’d fallen asleep before you both had chance to clean up properly. But that was okay, he could treat you like a queen in the morning. For now, you both needed rest.

Translations:

Buon pomeriggio - Good afternoon.

Ora - Now.

Questo è un cazzo di scherzo assoluto! - This is an absolute fucking joke!

Perché? - Why?

Sei stupido, Cardinale Smith? - Are you stupid, Cardinal Smith?

Non mi sorprende, Cardinale. - That does not surprise me, Cardinal.

Angioletta - Little angel.

Capisce? - Do you understand?

Grazie, amore mio. - Thank you, my love.

Che cos’è questo? - What’s this?

Che cazzo? - What the fuck?

Puttana. - Whore.

Brava ragazza. - Good girl.

Mi farai morire. - You’re gonna kill me.

Commissions are open! ⛧ Memberships ⛧ Tip Jar

[leezlelatch]

Secondo x F!Reader - first meetings, brooding, flirting, Secondo's POV. Next in the snippet series...Secondo visits Italia for unpleasant business. Could his stay be the change he needs? @writingjourney

Dark sunglasses cover his eyes, and his expression is blank as the pallbearers walk his mother’s casket down the long aisle. It had been many, many years since Secondo had been in a Catholic Church, and this, his mother’s funeral, would be the last. A procession follows, faces he’s never seen before, and he vaguely wonders if they are cousins, or even siblings. Do they wonder who he is? The long lost son of a woman left in shame after Nihil left his wicked touch on her. Secondo hopes she lived a good life. He thinks she did, quietly watching when he was old enough to handle his own affairs, a silent benefactor. He stands when the last of them leave, his eyes staring scornfully at Jesus on the cross. Where was his grace, when all was broken?

He gets back to the abbey nestled in the hills of the Italian countryside long after dark, having spent several hours wandering the small village of his youth. With a glass of wine in hand, he steps out onto the balcony of his room, looking out over the olive grove the Siblings tend to. The Italian branch of the Ministry sells their own olive oil, a lucrative business that has kept them afloat since he was a boy. It gave him a deeper appreciation for his country, and the beauty that can be grown from the ground and used in their food.

Secondo checks his phone, his thumb scrolling past updates from Sweden, a “me me” his brother sent, deleted, and of his particular interest, the latest on the restoration of a first edition of The Discoverie of Witchcraft by Reginald Scot, a book for his personal collection. He isn’t eager to get back. Tensions are high amongst the Clergy, their dissatisfaction with his younger brother apparent. They simply do not like that Terzo doesn’t bow.

Secondo’s time as Papa is well remembered, and bitterly ended. Too many parties, too many nights trying to drink his life away. Underappreciating what he had until it was gone. He gave Terzo the papacy knowing his brother carries a vision, and he is eager to see it realized. But like a true Emeritus, tragedy is never far. Secondo looks up at the sky and finds the North Star, and he wonders if Primo is in his observatory, looking at the same star. Italy may be where he was born, but Secondo isn’t home. Not when home are three men that in equal parts infuriate him, and make him fight harder every day. He tosses the wine over the edge, setting the glass on the ledge.

“Satan Christ on a stick!” A voice shouts from below. Secondo leans over the balcony railing, looking down in shock at the Sister of Sin now covered in his spilled red wine. She shakes her hands, droplets flying from her fingertips and she looks up, her brow furrowing as she spots him. “Papa,” she says. “I’m wet.”

Well, that’s not the first time he’s heard those words, but not necessarily in this context. Secondo’s mind works a mile a minute to catch up with everything that’s happened in the last few seconds, and he huffs out a small laugh. “Satan Christ?” He asks. 

“It’s a creative way to swear, but I think appropriate,” she answers, looking down at her light sweater now stained red. “I hope this was cheap.” 

Amusement is quickly replaced by regret, and Secondo glances around as if a rag would appear out of thin air. “A moment, Suora. I will be down,” he calls, hurrying into his room and wrenching open the linen closet. He pulls out a towel, grimacing at the light shade. That will be two things he will have to get a burgundy stain out of. He grunts, putting a hand on his back on his way to the front door. Far too much running around for his age, especially so late into the night. 

Secondo steps outside into the night time air, his eyes scanning the place near his balcony where the wine covered sister had been standing. “Suora?”

“Here,” she says, coming around the corner, her sweater removed and in her hands. Secondo pauses, his eyes quickly taking in the sight of her cream colored camisole. He clears his throat, offering her the towel, and he watches with a small frown as she squeezes the sweater between it. 

“Do you have something to say, Papa?” She asks, watching him with an amused quirk of her eyebrow. 

Secondo straightens, his frown deepening, and he tilts his head in atonement. “Forgive me, Suora. I should not be so careless in disposing of my beverages.” He glances away, an uncomfortable itch climbing up his spine. Today has not improved, and here he is, middle-aged man, and her superior, making a fool of himself. 

“I didn’t mean that, although the apology is appreciated. You were looking at me like I was doing something wrong.” She clenches the fabric of her sweater between the edges of the towel, and he waves his hands, reaching for it. 

“You are doing something wrong,” he says gruffly. “Do not squeeze. Blot. We will have to get this under a cold tap.” She laughs, and he glances at her, blowing a breath between his teeth as he begs Lucifer for patience. 

“You seem familiar with…stains,” she says, circling around him, her arms crossed over her chest. Her hair is rustled by the evening breeze, and Secondo pauses, staring at it fluttering and catching between her lips. She blows it away, and he swallows.

“Red stains in particular,” he murmurs, returning to the task at hand.

“That’s something a murderer would say,” she responds, her lips curled at the corners, her smile mysterious. It reminds him of the Mona Lisa.

“There are plenty of rumors about my family, Suora. Choose one,” he says with a flash of teeth. She tilts her head in response, and they stare at each other for a moment. Secondo is used to intimidating people. He doesn’t want to intimidate people. His looks, his demeanor, something somewhere went wrong, and he is paying for it. He gets to watch his brothers be treated like gold by the Siblings where he is dulled copper, dented and used. Secondo garners more fear than respect, and that is acceptable. Or so he tells himself.

“I like the one where you’re all vampires,” she says.

He laughs. A real, genuine laugh, and it makes her smile. He’s caught in that smile, so sweet and full of joy, and it makes him warm. She isn’t intimidated, she’s silly, she cusses in the strangest ways. Is it childish to think this woman is a gift from his mother? Someone real, someone who isn’t afraid.

“Come inside,” he says, holding her wrinkled sweater with a long-suffering sigh. “We shall see if we can save it. I am sorry for drenching you. And tell me about this vampire rumor, will you?”

She follows after him, passing through the open double doors into a hallway lit by old, metal chandeliers that cast a soft yellow glow. “I’ll tell you plenty if you tell me what compelled you to throw your wine off the balcony,” she says.

Secondo leads her up a flight of stairs, his hand gripping the railing, his knees aching from all the walking he did earlier that day. “It displeased me,” he says, unwilling to unload his inner turmoil on a woman he just met. 

“Remind me to stay in your good graces then,” she says, snickering a laugh. He joins her. It feels good to laugh. 

“Ah, do not worry,” he says. “My knees cannot take another trip down the stairs.”

[theunholybastard]

Kinktober: October 3rd - Angry Sex (Papa Emeritus II x Female!Reader)

Tags: Dom!Secondo, Sub!Reader, Degrading, Hair-Pulling, Light Blood Kink, Spanking, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Slut-Shaming, Dub-Con, Abuse Of Power, Face-Fucking, Overstimulation, Dacryphilia, Breeding, 3rd Person POV

Secondo has always been a cold, cruel man. At least, that's what everyone saw him as. When a new Sister of Sin arrived in the Ministry, he thought she was going to be like all of the others; terrified of him. Why wouldn't she be? But no, when she first was introduced to him, she smiled warmly, even held eye contact while she shook his hand. She didn't treat him like a beast, cowering away from his presence, nor did she even suck up to him and treat him like a higher being; she treated him like everyone else. That's what drew Secondo to her initially.

Soon after she would be assigned to be Secondos personal assistant. All of his previous assistants quit within a few weeks, unable to keep up with his strict policies, constant demands, and especially his temper. But she stayed, and did a damn good job despite his nearly impossible standards. He was impressed, and his interest in this beautiful young Sister grew more.

But when he got to know her is when he became truly doomed. The more she sweetly chatted with him as she got her work done, talking to him about her day, all while smiling and laughing comfortably around him made his heart flutter with a newfound life. By the time he recognized what he was feeling, there was no going back.

She made him soft. She made his permanent scowl melt into a bashful smile with one look. She made him feel weak, powerless, but in a strange way, he liked it. But even in his softest state, Secondo to his core is greedy, possessive. In his mind, she was his and his alone, even if she didn't know it yet.

When he saw a Brother of Sin flirting with his precious assistant, he felt a deep, bubbling rage grow within him. But what sealed her fate was when she flirted back, batting her eyelashes and pressing her body up against him. What gives her the right to parade herself to another man like some common whore? That man, no, that boy couldn't make her feel half as good as he could. Why would she want some simpleminded sibling over a Papa?

He sits in his office, his cock painfully hard as he thinks about her. His jaw is clenched so tight you could hear his teeth grinding furiously against each other. He waits for her, his mind set on teaching her a lesson. She arrives eventually, late, which only fuels his anger. He watches her intently as she clumsily shuffles into the room and sets a pile of paperwork down at his desk. He slowly gets up from where he was sat, locking the door, her too focused on her work to realize.

"I'm so sorry I was late, Papa. I was-" She begins to excuse herself before he deliberately interrupts.

"You were what? Too busy whoring yourself out for the whole Ministry?" He hisses accusingly. She's taken aback by his words and sudden hostility. Her brows furrowed in confusion as her gaze now falls on his enraged expression. A chill runs up her spine.

"Papa, what are you talking abo-" He cuts her off again.

"I saw you. I saw you with Brother Francesco after black mass. How he looked at you. How you looked at him. You want to fuck him, hm?" He interrogated.

"...Is that a crime?" She bit back, scoffing. Surely Secondo wasn't being serious, she thought. No way the Papa of a church that celebrates lust would have a problem with that. Her sass makes his fists clench tight. She notices and instantly regrets her retort.

"You think you can just walk into my office and tempt me with that sinful body of yours every day, just so you can go and give it up for some useless sibling instead?" He growled. Slowly, she starts piecing it together. Oh. Her eyes widen.

"P-Papa I didnt-" She cuts herself off this time, sucking in a sharp breath as he approaches her. She's pressed up against the desk, his body centimeters away from hers, keeping her in place. She couldn't escape from him even if she wanted to. And honestly, she really didn't. This situation she was in, while it terrified her, also sent a jolt of arousal right to her core. Her heart was beating rapidly, not taking her eyes off Secondo for a moment, tracking his every move.

"Do you think he deserves to fuck you more than I do? You want him more than you want your Papa?" His voice was low and thick with malice. He slid a gloved hand up her habit, caressing her bare thigh, while the other hand securely gripped her hip. She gasped at the touch, her knees buckling. She shook her head. He lightly slapped her thigh in warning, not satisfied with that answer.

"Speak, bitch." His words made her shiver. She gulped. "N-no, Papa. I don't- I don't want him. H-he doesn't deserve t-to..." She hesitated. "To fuck me..." She breathed shakily. His grip on her hip became bruisingly tight.

"You work for me, putanna." She could almost feel the rumbling of his voice in her own chest. "Your job is to please me, si? Keep me satisfied?" She nodded again, causing him to growl and give another firm slap to her thigh.

"Y-yes, Papa." She stuttered out. His gaze was piercing, like he could kill her with just one look. She never understood why all of the siblings were afraid of him, until now.

"Then do your job and get on your knees." In an instant, she obeyed, her brain too fogged with lust to think for herself. Swiftly, he takes out his thick, leaking cock. She gasps in shock seeing his impressive length for the first time, a wave of nervousness suddenly hitting her. Sensing her hesitation, Secondos gaze softens.

"You must tell me now if you don't want this. Once I start, I fear I won't be able to stop." His voice was low and serious. His expression tried to remain neutral to not put further pressure on her, but on the inside he was praying she wouldn't reject him, that he would get to see tears stream down her cheeks as she choked and sputtered on his cock.

"I want this, Papa. Please." She manages to whimper out, fueled by determination and desire. Secondo let's out a soft groan, pleased with her response. Not waiting any longer, he held his cock to her lips. "Suck." He commanded.

She opened wide, taking just the tip in her mouth to start, gently swirling her tongue around it. This caused him to growl frustratedly, fisting her hair in his hands and yanking her down on the rest of his length. She gags helplessly as he mercilessly thrusts into her mouth, holding her head firmly in place. "Much better." He grunts, tipping his head back in sadistic pleasure.

His pace was unrelenting, roughly hitting the back of her throat with every thrust, causing tears to form quickly in the corner of her eyes. Each retching sound made his smile grow wider, finally living out his sick fantasies. His cock pulses, a familiar feeling stirring within him. Before he can finish, he yanks her off, hissing at the sudden lack of warmth that was provided by her mouth. She coughs dryly and looks up at him, confused.

"W-why'd you sto- Oh!" She yelps in surprise as he lifts her off the ground, slamming her over his desk and flipping up the skirt of her habit. Like a wild animal, he rips off her undergarments, the sound of tearing fabric filling the room along with some primal grunts from Secondo. She mourns the loss of her stockings and panties for a brief moment, but soon forgets once she feels the tip of his cock caress her folds.

"So fucking wet already just from sucking my cock, hm? Putanna." He spits, coating his length with her arousal. She whines, trying to push back against him in a desperate attempt to get him inside of her. "Please, Pap- ah!" She lets out a borderline pornographic moan as he slides inside of her, his cock stretching her out and filling her perfectly.

He wastes no time, thrusting in and out of her at a rapid, animalistic pace. She screams in a mix of pleasure and overstimulation, the brutality of his hips slamming against hers almost too much to handle. "P-Papa, please! S-slow down, fuck!" Her pleas earn her a harsh spank, causing her to clench around him.

"Last time I checked, you weren't the one in charge." He panted heavily, completely lost in his own pleasure. "W-whos in charge here, hm? Oh, f-fuuck..." She tries to reply, but all that can come out are wanton moans and nonsensical muttering. He spanks her again. And again. Harder and harder each time, leaving bright red handprints on her ass, surely to bruise by tomorrow. "S-say it! Merda!"

"Y-you, Papa! Oh, s-shit! Gonna c-cum!" She cries, the knot in her stomach growing tighter and tighter until finally it releases, her eyes rolling back and her mouth hung open in ecstasy as she coats him with her juices. She comes down from her high, but his pace doesn't relent, moving a gloved hand down to rub her clit, further stimulating her. She desperately gasped for air and tried to wiggle away from his touch, but he holds her close, spearing her in place.

"We're not stopping till I drain every last drop of my seed inside you. Understood?" He huffs, fucking into her as if he's just using her body as a means to let out his frustrations. Tears stream down her cheeks , the pleasure so intense it's bordering on pain, but God, it feels too good to stop. He grips ahold of her hair, pulling on it painfully and lifting her body closer to his, burying his face in her neck.

"Gonna breed you like a bitch in heat. Maybe then you'll remember who you f-fucking belong to, huh?" He pants against her skin, getting close himself. She hisses in pain, her scalp burning, but she still can't help but clench tighter around him at his words. "I bet that stronzo Francesco would stay far away from you once your body starts to swell with my child. Everyone in this whole fucking Ministry will know you're Papas personal slut. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Cazzo, t-tell me you want it..."

She feels the tightness in her abdomen return once again, all logic in her mind now completely gone as she focuses solely on the pleasure she's receiving, itching to cum again. "W-want it, Papa! P-please... please cum... cum in me!" She chokes out a sob, degraded to nothing more than a pathetic, horny mess. His thrusts grow sloppy and uncoordinated, his breath hitched, as he lets out one final groan of expletives.

He bites down on her shoulder to silence himself, hard enough to draw blood, as he releases himself inside of her, thick spurts of his seed already leaking out of her hole from the obscene amount. At the feeling of his cock kicking inside of her, mixed with the sharp sting of his bite, her warm blood sliding down her shoulder, she cums almost in sync with him, wailing helplessly and shuddering against him.

She fully collapses over the desk, face hitting the hard wood, but she's entirely too exhausted to care. After taking a moment to catch his breath, he slowly pulls out, wincing at oversensitivity. Staring at her limp, heaving body, a sense of clarity washes over him, swiftly being hit with reality.

"A-are you okay, mia cara?" He asks gently, all the anger and tension from before quickly melting away seeing her in such a fragile condition. He felt a pang of guilt for doing this to her, to someone he worked with, to someone he loved. How would this affect their relationship moving forward?

"P-Papa..." Is all she can manage to whimper out, her throat raw and abused, along with the rest of her body. His gaze softens, and without another word, he carefully lifts her into his arms like a ragdoll, laying her down on the couch. He cleans her up tenderly, treating her as if she's some fragile object that could shatter at the slightest touch.

They sit in silence for a while, him soothingly rubbing all the marks he left on her body while she struggles to say awake. "I..." He clears his throat, unsure of what to say. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I took advantage of you. It won't happen again. Let's just... pretend this never happened, si?" He says regretfully, looking down at the ground beneath him with a scowl. She frowns.

"Secondo..." She sighs, trying to hide her slight hurt from his words. "I told you I wanted it."

"I know that, but-"

"No. We were two consenting adults, there's nothing wrong with what we just did. And..." She gulps. "And there's no reason we shouldn't do this again." He blinks, looking up at her in surprise.

"You'd... you'd want to?" He asks, sounding unsure of himself, like maybe he heard her wrong. She smiles, that damned soft smile that he's come to adore so much.

"I'd like that a lot." She admits bashfully. "Only next time, can I not have to flirt with Brother Francesco to get you to sleep with me?" Secondo raises an eyebrow and smirks, a chuckle escaping his lips.

"Did you... did you flirt with him just to make me jealous?" He asks in amused disbelief. She bites her lip, avoiding eye contact. "Maybe..." She mutters, grinning mischievously. He scoffs, playfully slapping her ass. He pulls her in for a kiss, not too rough, but still firm and possessive.

"Piccola diavola." He murmurs against her sweet lips. "I'm going to have to punish you for that." She pulls away and pouts exaggeratingly. "Haven't you punished me enough? Have some mercy on me, Papa!" She jokingly complains. Secondo laughs heartily, trailing his kisses down to her neck, causing her to shiver.

"Oh, amore. If you want mercy..." His grip on her tightens. "You're going to have to beg for it."

-

[spooky-pomegranate]

Eyes on Fire (pt 3)

*Enemies to Lovers inspired by the Year Zero music video*

Papa Emeritus II x Reader (18+) Word Count: 2.8k (Read on AO3) Last Part: (Part 1) (Part 2) Next Part: (Part 4)

Summary: Secondo recounts the best and worst night of his life. You are taken to a special place in the Abbey full of magic and perhaps something more sinister.

(Dividers by @wrathofrats)

When the tendrils of sleep blackened the edges of his vision and he slipped into unconscious Secondo often remembered that night.

Sin and revelry.

Opulence and greed.

Tradition and pride.

Failure.

He partook as his father had. As his father’s father had. As his father’s father’s father had. Like the men before him, Secondo played the part of a new Papa well on the night of his ascension and everything had gone to plan … until it hadn’t.

The Abbey had been dressed in his new colors. Emerald green banners hung from the halls, table runners of a similar shade decorated the dining rooms, and hundreds of flowering bouquets of green calla lilies scented the air. The siblings had affectionately dubbed the rapid overnight changes to the Abbey “The Great Green Wave.”

The festivities had started in the early morning. A feast was held in Secondo’s honor. Brothers, sisters, bishops, and cardinals had come from near and far to celebrate. They followed him all day, presenting him with gifts and showering him with praises. In the evening, he delivered his first Black Mass and unveiled the design of his piercing papal paints to an adoring clergy. They had cheered for him and sung his name. Secondo felt proud.

He was of course aware of the ulterior motives from some. Social climbers were everywhere and as Papa, his coattails would be heavier with more of them clinging on for crumbs of his power. But for the most part, on his ascension day, Secondo let pride rule.

But everything changed in the catacombs.

The night before his ascension day Primo, as the most recent Papa to rule, had come to his younger brother to explain what would happen down below… or at least what was supposed to happen down below.

The catacombs were the site of the last tradition Secondo would need to complete before officially becoming Papa Emeritus II. Primo explained that on an onyx altar deep in the catacombs there was an old leather-bound book. The book had been in the Emeritus family for as long as there had been a church. It was a gift to their family from the Old One himself, written in the blood of the fallen and created from the ashes of the ninth circle. But the book was more than just a relic of the underworld. As Primo explained, the tome was a link between the world of the living and the world of the dead. And on the very special night of a Papal ascension, the Dark Lord used the book to speak directly with the newly anointed Papa. Secondo would be able to ask Him questions and together they would establish a path for his papacy.

But when the time came and Secondo stood before the old book… nothing happened.

He read every page. And then he read them again and again and again and again. For hours, Secondo stared at the unholy text until his eyes burned and his head hurt. But he didn’t care. He didn’t move. Secondo pushed aside the pain, shoving it somewhere deep, and ignored his bodily needs. Eventually, the sun rose and the first day of his papacy began. But Secondo remained underground. He denied visitors, turning away assistants, ghouls, his father, and his brothers. He refused food, drink, and rest whenever offered. He stayed rooted to the same spot on the stone floor hoping that His voice would finally call out.

When Secondo missed the next evening's Black Mass rumors swirled around the Abbey. But he didn’t hear them. He remained in the catacombs for three days and four nights. He would have stayed longer, but the lack of food and water eventually took a heavy toll on his body and Secondo collapsed on the fourth night.

In the weeks that passed, Secondo began his duties as Papa. But every night like the moon to the night sky, he obediently returned to the catacombs. But no matter how hard he prayed or how much he bargained… it never happened.

As far as he knew, Secondo was the first Papa in a long line of Emeritus’s to enter his papacy without guidance from the One Below. The thought kept him up most nights. Secondo would toss and turn worrying about what he’d done to displease his Lord. He recounted every moment of his life hoping for a moment of clarity so he could amend and atone. But nothing ever came.

Stubborn as an ox however Secondo remained determined. In the waking hours, he scoured the church’s library for answers, reading books from the private Papal-restricted sections and ancient tomes long forgotten. He focused intently on his religious duties and presented as many offerings to the Old One as he could, indulging in sins he knew He enjoyed.

Day in and day out Secondo’s life became about service to his Master and so did his papal reign.

Secondo was aware his consuming attentions warped his reputation. He became known as a cruel and bitter Papa, but it was only because he pushed his flock to be their best when mediocracy was easier. Any assistant who missed evening prayer was replaced, any cook who forgot to bless his meal was reassigned, and any Ghoul who disrespected the Old One was returned to Him.

There were no exceptions. No exclusions. Except for one. Except for you.

A week had gone by since Secondo promoted his first Imperatrixes. They had been subservient, attentive, and sufficient. At each meal they had followed his instructions and served him according to the old traditions, lighting the sacred black candles and kneeling silently for his prayer. But for a week, you stood out from the rest. You didn’t want to be there. That was clear as day. You would hide in the shadows and keep your head bowed. And true to your word you hadn’t participated in a single offering. Instead, choosing to skulk out to the butler's pantry like a kitchen mouse at the end of each meal.

The rational part of Secondo wanted to send you back to Primo and his gardens. The more irrational part of him despised you….hated you, even wanted you out of the church. In your chambers you had been openly combative with him, speaking to him in a tone no one else dared. Santana’s how he had wanted to put you in your place then and send you out the door.

The gall. The god-forsaken gall!

And the way you had stepped to him and cocked your little chin up. The way your chest had puffed up like small prey pretending to be a big predator. The way you had squinted your bright eyes and crinkled your little nose. Lying in his bed he replayed it all again and again and again. For a week he fell asleep with only the image of your stormy eyes in his mind.

But Secondo never sent you to Primo. He never let that part of his mind win because he reminded himself of the fire. He reminded himself of how it had burned uncontrollably when you looked at one another. It had to have been a sign. Secondo was sure. Absolutely certain. In all the books he’d read Satan’s favorite way to message the living was always through hellfire. What happened in the dining room was surely the Dark Lord's first attempt to communicate with him. There could be no other explanation.

But since that night nothing else extraordinary had happened. In the daylight when you shared space no more hellfire erupted and at night when he returned alone to the book in the catacombs no words were spoken.

But ever-stubborn Secondo wasn’t going to let you go.

He had a plan. He would see the fire again. He would hear his voice.

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Leave us.” Secondo’s leather glove wrapped around your wrist and you felt your pulse spike.

“H-have we o-offended you, Papa?” Sister Rose’s voice shook. She along with your other Sisters hadn’t seen this sudden outburst coming. Everyone panicked.

“There has been no offense sorella but tonight I will dine with her alone.”

You started to speak when Secondo suddenly tugged you closer causing you to clumsily trip over the frayed edges of the oriental rug on the floor. The corners of your vision blurred in dizzying motion as you hurtled forward straight toward the corner of the large walnut table. You closed your eyes, bracing for the inevitable impact….but it never came.

Just as quickly as you had fallen the hand circling your wrist shot to your waist and pulled upright. In the dark, you felt the brush of silk robes and the surprisingly strong muscles hidden underneath them. You sharply inhaled. The air smelled of sweet tobacco and flowering incense. You listened to his breathing. Deep and steady against your ears. Calm like a river. For a moment, it was nice. To be held. To feel safe in strong arms. To have someone keep you close. To have someone protect you, even if it was from just a table. It was nice to be in someone’s arms. It had been so long.

But when he spoke the spell was broken and you remembered just who exactly was holding you tight.

“You are dismissed sorellas. Go in sin.” Secondo’s warm glove slid from your waist. As the last of your sisters excited the dining room, he moved slowly to the fireplace at the other side and stared into the flames. The scent of him lingered behind him. Sweet and smoky.

“Take a seat sorella.” You did as he asked and pulled out the dining chair closest to you. Secondo turned and tutted.

“No,” he said sternly shaking his head. “Sit here by my chair. There is much we need to discuss and I do not wish to shout all evening.”

Fuck.

Your heart banged so violently against your ribs that you worried the bones might break.

For the past week, you’d managed to avoid Secondo’s wrath by sticking to your duties and slipping away before he took one of your siblings. He’d never asked you to partake again but you worried now he’d changed his mind. If he was going to give you an ultimatum you were ready to pack your bags and run.

Never in a million years would you willing touch Secondo. Unless of course, he was keeping you from smashing your face into a table. But that was different.

“Of course Papa.” You obediently moved to the chair beside his. “Have I done something wrong?”

Secondo eyed you as he took his seat at the head of the table. His expression was cold, but you couldn’t read it further. His papal paint hid his true emotions.

“I have spent many hours thinking about our last discussion and I have…” Secondo paused and you balled your fist in worry under the table “Frankly sorella I have concerns.”

“Concerns Papa?”

“Si. I am worried that you have lost your way.”

Your mind raced with all the things you could have possibly done wrong. There had been nothing. You’d been the shining example of obediency. "Lost my way, Papa? I'm just trying to serve you and the Old One as best I can."

Secondo leaned back in his chair. “I understand that, but there's more to serving the Dark Lord than merely following instructions. You seem disconnected, almost as if you're not fully committed to our faith."

"I assure you, Papa,” you stammered, “my faith is unwavering. I simply want to honor your teachings and serve Him to the best of my ability."

Secondo looked at you for a long moment. His piercing white eye made you feel small… as though you were being judged by the Old One himself. "That may be the case, but I fear your mind does not reflect your words.”

You frowned and looked down at your hands. A strange tightness twisted in your chest. What was he talking about? You had been faithful and obedient, hadn't you? Sure you weren’t always the rule follower that some of the meeker and younger siblings tended to be but that wasn’t against His teachings. Free will was just as important as the prayers. So what if you’d snuck off to the ghoul dens and ate fruit from his pantry? What did that matter?

"I don't understand, Papa. What do you require of me that I'm not doing?"

Secondo took a deep breath. "It's in your eyes, sorella. There's a fire there, a defiance that tells me you're hiding something. Something you shouldn't be."

In your eyes? In your fucking eyes?!

What the hell was he talking about?

Your heart pounded in your ears, and you tried to hide the sudden fury that overcame you. You reached up to cover your face, attempting to smooth away any traces of your anger that had bubbled to the surface. "Papa, I assure you, I am not hiding anything.” Other than my consuming hatred of you. “And I have done exactly as you have asked."

“If that is true then I would like to ask one more thing of you.”

“Name it.”

“I want you by my side for every hour of the waking day. I want you with me always. Sorella… become my assistant.”

Any hope of reigning in your emotions burned alive. You erupted.

“I’d rather die.”

There it was.

You may have slipped on the mask of a brava sorellina for a week but Secondo knew…that wasn’t who you were. This was. Insubordinate. Reckless. A lost and wayward soul. Una diavolessa laid at his feet. A challenge given to him by Satan himself.

It all made sense.

He understood the fire now. It had been a sign from the Dark One. He’d put you here as a test. Secondo would need to lead you back into the light of the Morning Star. And no matter the cost he would pay it. He would redeem you by whatever means necessary. He would make you a shining member of His church an example for all to see. 

As Papa Emeritus the Second it was his duty and he would not fail… because through you he knew would finally be able to speak to the Old One. He just had to break you and mold you back together in His image.

And he would break you. 

“Eat up, diavolessa. I want to show you something.”

Dinner was unbearable, but somehow you survived.

Luckily the food had been delicious and the wine plentiful. Neither you nor Secondo had spoken until your plates and glasses were empty. Only then did he ask you to accompany him to the catacombs, and against all sound judgment you agreed. That’s how you found yourself deep underground with Papa Emeritus the Second staring at an ancient book on a black altar.

“Do you know what this is sorella?”

“No, Papa.”

“Come closer.”

For the second time that evening, Secondo’s gloved hand wrapped around your wrist and he tugged you closer, pulling you roughly toward toward the strange-looking book.

On its cover were carved images of demons and the Morning Star. The pages were thick and yellowed, and as Secondo opened them, you felt a chill run down your spine. You had heard tales of these ancient tomes, forbidden and guarded with great secrecy by the ranks of the church. They were said to contain powerful magic, capable of summoning demons and divulging the future. And there, in front of you, was one such book. You could feel its power. You wondered if it was alive.

“He wrote this didn’t he?”

Secondo nodded.

“Why are we here, Papa?”

“I want to read it to you.”

As Secondo began to recite from the ancient text, the air in the catacombs grew thicker, charged with an ethereal energy that sent shivers down your spine. The words were in a language you couldn't understand, a twisted blend of Latin and an unknown primal tongue that clawed its way into your mind. As Secondo continued, the torches flickered and dimmed, casting long shadows that danced across the walls like spectral figures. The ground beneath your feet felt uneasy and you knew the earth was trembling in response to dark magic.

You tried to pull away from Secondo's grip but his hold on your wrist tightened. You couldn’t breathe. You wanted to run. To scream. To beg him to stop. To hide from whatever was about to happen but just as you thought you couldn't bear it a second longer, a low rumbling echoed through the chamber and the lights went out completely. 

Then you were falling.

Down.

Down.

Down.

Somewhere in the distance, Secondo screamed your name. But just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. You landed with a jolt on solid ground and the impact knocked the wind from your lungs. Gasping for air, you struggled to make sense of your surroundings. Everything was pitch-black. The ground beneath you felt like dirt instead of stone. Sulfur and ash wafted through the air.

"Papa, where are you? Papa? Secondoooo?!"

A deep voice roared from the darkness. “Do you miss him already child?” 

(Follow along on AO3 here) NEXT: PART 4

[emeritus-fuckers]

Ghost reaction to finding fanfic you write of them (smut, fluff or angst idrc) also feel free to ignore lovely

Papas reacting to fanfiction

WARNING: Copia's section includes Rite Here Rite Now spoilers.

Primo (he/him)

Reacting to „Souls on Fire” ♡ Yandere!Papa Emeritus I x Reader oneshot

Primo sat down to read after a long day in the garden, glasses perched on the end of his nose. You knotted your fingers together, you'd really taken some liberties imagining his younger self. Why were you even letting him read this?!

Despite your nerves, Primo seemed more and more delighted as he read. A small chuckle escaping him now and then.

"Ah yes, my younger brothers..." he mused to himself. "Such an adorably sinful handful."

He carried reading enthralled by every word. When he finished he turned to you with a truly devilish smile.

"Amore, it has been so long since someone has seen me for anything other than a wise old man who tends his garden."

"I think I know you better than most do." You winked with an awkward little giggle.

"Yes, you do." He says with a smile, then his expression turns serious "How did you find all this out?"

You eyes widen.

"The accuracy..." he shakes his head in dismay as you blanch.

"She was wonderful, I remember her well, she had a bit of a habit of running away... I can take you to meet her?" Primo looked so serious but his eyes gleamed with mischief. "In the cemetery, I sometimes still sit and watch her grave." You aren't sure whether to believe him or not and narrow your eyes.

"You won't leave me, will you amore? Because I can make you stay."

You hurled the nearest cushion at him. "I dare you try it, old man."

He scoffed and placed your laptop carefully down before holding his arms out for you. You couldn't say no to that adorable and loving smile.

"See, I have you completely under my spell." He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you.

"Prick." You mutter.

"That is not very polite, amore. If it makes you feel better, I love your writing. Luckily for you I am not a... 'yandere', but I do have an interesting past. I might tell you more of it if you promise to keep it to yourself and only yourself." Primo says with a kiss to your cheek.

Secondo (he/him)

Reacting to Day 23 of Kinktober: Blood - Papa Emeritus II

Secondo is not the one to snoop. He trusts you with his life. With his being. The Siblings of the Ministry, however? They are. They absolutely are. They also are completely unable to stay silent. So, when they blabber about you? He listens. He honestly just wanted to make sure that they weren't saying anything that he needed to... handle. He would never let anyone talk behind your back.

But they were blabbering about a story you written.. about Him. And that's what truly got his attention. Why hadn't you shown him before this point, anyways?

It didn't take him long to find the fic on his phone, he did have your writing blog on every platform, after all. Poker face on as usual as his eyes scanned over the words, carefully taking in each and every word. Memorizing them. Greeting you as usual as you walked into your twos shared chambers. Nodding and giving you a kiss, asking how your day was going and pointing you to the dinner he had made, as always. Going right back to reading, when he was done. Which wasn't odd, he was often stuck in a book, online or a physical one.

He doesn't say a thing for a few weeks. Bordering on a month. Just... waiting.

Not until your period, that is. He wakes you up with soft words and soft kisses, making you giggle happily, joining you with a shower and a wonderful breakfast, then gently leading you back to bed. Before harshly grabbing your wrists, asking for a safe word, and then doing Every. Single. Thing. You had written, keeping each moment to how you written it, and even going back to match it.

Perhaps a bit more mean, honestly.

Terzo (he/they)

Reacting to “Love Story” Terzo x f!reader one shot (READ CW)

Terzo wasn’t one to necessarily snoop at what you were writing. He knew it was your favourite hobby to partake in when you had free time. However, their curiosity got the better of them seeing a song connected to the story you were writing.

He put on the song as he read what you wrote, a little surprised to find it was a story about him. Humming as he began to reading. The first part was unbearably sweet, a smile appearing on his face as he read through. You did have a talent with words.

You walked in to him holding his neck as he read the second part, giving you a look of horror as you stood by. Awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck.

“Cara Mia…should I be concerned about where you got this idea to have Copia pose with my severed head from?”

You didn’t reply, just giving a sheepish smile as you came to lay beside them in bed. Looking at them with an awkward grin. Immediately setting off alarm bells in his mind.

“…you haven’t read the third part yet have you?”

Mismatched eyes returned to the screen as he seemed to fearfully begin reading the next part. His brows furrowing as they tensed up. Holding you close as if you trap you at his side, eyes widening after a few moments. Slowly looking at your sheepish smile.

“First thing amore, we are getting you…a very good therapist. Second…if I ever start acting that way I implore you to actually kill me. I am obsessed with you…but not to that degree.”

He huffed, putting aside the cursed story and stopping the music. Holding you close and breathing in the scent of your shampoo. Relaxing in your presence…

And hoping this inspiration hadn’t come from the bag he had hidden out in the garden…

Copia/Frater Imperator (he/him)

Reacting to Biggering ⸸ Cardinal Copia

Contains spoilers for Rite Here Rite Now.

"Wha- Amore, why would I- she's my mother! I would never-"

Copia stumbled over his words, looking between you and the screen of your laptop. He was just going to look something up real quick (although with his knowledge about modern technology, it wasn't really going to be too quick, but let's not get into those details), unaware that you left your Tumblr up with some sort of... story, as he assumed. He knew you wrote silly stories occasionally, but he never got to actually read any of your works. He got curious, especially seeing his name in the title of the story.

He played the song attached to the thing, since he deduced from the title that it was probably rather important. He knew he shouldn't snoop around, but curiosity got the best of him, as he got his glasses from his pocket and started to read what you wrote. He couldn't believe his eyes, especially at the end. While yes, he did enjoy the fame, he wasn't a villain! And he would never kill his mother, he mourned her death! He was heartbroken when he lost her!

And now, he was struggling to express just how confused he was by what you wrote. Even despite you assuring him you were just having fun with a concept of him, your anxious little ray of sunshine, being evil. A concept he did not really enjoy.

Needless to say, it took a big plate of rigattoni and about an hour of apology cuddles for him to stop pouting about that one little fanfic.

Old Nihil (he/him)

Reacting to “Tattoo” ♡ Old Papa Nihil x female!Reader (smut)

He begged and pleaded for you to let him read it. Hours and hours after he heard you'd written something about him. But you kept going bright red every single time. This story haunted you, it would never go away now that you had finally put pen to paper. You finally gave in when he looked at you with those simpering big eyes. Why not let him read it, it was out there on the Internet and it might actually make Nihil rather happy, even if it did give him a rather in depth view of your imagination.

You passed him a printed copy. He started to read, devouring each word.

At first he kept looking across at you, lounging on the sofa as you watched his every reaction. His gaze often went to your legs, which were covered by your jeans.

You raise an eyebrow, wordlessly daring him to ask, but then he swiftly reached for his oxygen mask and took a large hit.

He must have reached the smutty part.

A playful smile lit up your face as he read on, needing more and more oxygen with every paragraph.

"Ooooh, this is very good." He is transfixed and you are almost as mesmerized by the obvious rising of his own seven inches. "You write very well." He added as he reached the fanfic's ending with the biggest grin on his face.

"Thank you Papa. I can put a skirt on later if you'd like?"

He reached for his oxygen again while nodding enthusiastically.

You walk over to him, settling on his lap which only excites the man more.

"So, did you get the tattoo, my dear?" He asked, gently trailing his fingers up your thigh.

You lean in to whisper in his ear.

"You can find out tonight."

Young Nihil (he/him)

Reacting to Papa Nihil falling head over heels for reader

"What are you doing?" Nihil watched the ice melt in his cocktail and huffed. He should have been doing his work but fuck that, he'd rather be having fun with you...

Except you were in his office, on his sofa, with your clothes (well, the shirt was his) on and worst of all, working. What in the Dark Lord's name had gone wrong?

"Baaaabe..." he stood behind you to see what you were up to and you froze.

"Oh, you're writing!" he said happily, he was always so impressed by your work. He leaned in closer to get a better look. "About me?!"

It started off about right, his broken heart, his fear of rejection... wait, how did you know?

"You think I'm in love with you???" You went red but kept typing. "Babe..." He whined again but then trailed off and kept reading.

"Maybe I am... I like this part." He says with a large grin hiding his hammering heart. He was in love with you, he really did smile every time he saw you. How had you worked that out?!

He let out a sigh of relief, it all made sense now. He should have just told you himself.

"Why d'you stop before the good part?" His hands rested on your shoulder as he started to rub them. "The world should hear about my skills in bed. How I can make ya scream my name." He winked before he started kissing your neck.

Yet you were tense, still embarrassed as you stared at your writing. Your shoulders sagged.

He goes round so you can see him as he knelt down in front of you. "You don't have to write your hopes and dreams, just tell me about them. I mean, by all means, write, I love you imagination but this..." He pauses thinking of the right words. "I do love you and I won't mess it up this time." He takes both your hands and kisses them.

"I love you too..." You said with the most perfect soft little smile and his heart melted all over again.

"You keep writing if you want." He leaned in, his lips achingly close to yours. "Maybe the world should hear about your skill in bed. You are truly a dark temptress. Write about it. Or you can tell me now and I'll make your fantasies come true."

~

Papas I and Nihil written by Nyx.

Papa II written by Zenith/Jasper.

Papa III written by Death.

Papa IV written by Nosferatu.

[kyraisdead]

Drunken Tears - Copia X Reader

“You’re fine,” Copia muttered, carefully trying to lead you back to your bedroom. His voice was soft; softer than you’d ever heard that high pitch.

It was one of the things they’d admired about you; usually, you were much quicker, both mentally and physically, than Copia could ever hope to be.That was, until the liquor had gotten switched with the wine at the post-ritual meal. You’d had… how many glasses now? He’d guess at least four, judging by the way you swayed as you walked.”Shh. No, just follow me.” You had your hand against your face, a migraine undoubtedly coming after you, only getting worse as you stumbled and hiccupped. He wasn’t a fan of dealing with drunks, but there was something undeniably charming about the way you giggled as the wave of pain ended, as you mumbled his name and tried to grab onto his hand, which he quickly snatched away. Not his to hold, he told himself.

You weren’t just not his partner. You were Secondo’s; quick, sweet, uncomfortably young compared to the man who was bordering sixty. It was no secret you were unhappy sitting by his older brother, holding onto his arm, silently begging for his attention while he looked at some other Sibling. He wished that he was more confident; more willing to whisk you away and show you how much love you truly deserved, but what could he do?

He winced as you gagged again, leaning over a trash bin and coughing up the pitifully small amount you had left in your stomach. He placed his hand on your back, gently rubbing it in hopes to soothe you as you cried out from the pain. Where was Secondo, anyway? Probably splayed out in his bed, with or without some new, unsuspecting Sister.

“Oh, cara mia,” he murmured as you stood shakily, leaning against him, your legs too weak to carry yourself anymore. “Where do we go now?” he sighed, wiping the drying saliva from the corner of your mouth. Even when intoxicated and ill, you were more beautiful than anything his mind could ever hope to imagine. How his heart ached for you.

You sniffed, unconsciously grabbing onto the edge of his coat, shoving your head against his chest as you choked out a sob. You’d been drinking more often lately, having never used to drink. It made it all the more concerning for him. Copia let out a shuddering sigh, biting back another pang of envy as he felt your desperate hold on his body. He knew he should’ve said something; stopped you before you had so much that you went from giggly and clingy to puking your guts out, a shadow of the person he knew you to be. “I know,” he mumbled weakly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and guiding you to the bed as he slowly entered your bedchamber. This was not what you needed; drinking yourself into a frenzy until your stomach could no longer hold it in. This wasn’t you.

You glanced around the room; your old bedroom, the one you’d slept in before getting involved with Secondo. You sat down carefully, gripping the covers as you did so.  The room was warm but near-barren, most of your possessions now scattered about his brother’s room. Some items remained, of course; old clothing you kept as a just-in-case, the cheap Ministry-issued sheets and pillows. Enough to sleep somewhat comfortably, or just pass out. "No..." you murmured. "Where's Secondo?"

Copia’s grip on your arm tightened, and he averted his eyes. So he was right, then; either asleep, or off with some other Sibling of Sin he’d gotten drunk and used. “He’s busy,” he replied slowly, sitting down next to you. He didn’t want to say the words out loud; it was hard enough hearing them in his mind, over and over. “You’re stuck with me for tonight, cara,” he added with a sigh.

The room was silent for a moment as you considered. "I... okay," you muttered shakily. He knew you loved him. Secondo had done a wonderful job at making you think he loved you, too, only to steal away all of his affection when you’d already become attached. "I wish he wouldn't," hic, "work so late."

How blind Secondo was. A beautiful, smart, and good Sibling of Sin like you, begging for his attention, and he didn’t even bother to glance in your direction half the time. He didn’t deserve you. Anyone could see that. He didn’t deserve your love, your affection, your everything. You were too good for him; too kind, too caring. Secondo didn’t even think about you; only himself. “He’s… preoccupied,” he sighed, trying to find a word that wouldn’t make you cry again.

You let my head loll to the side, resting on his shoulder. "Mm. I wish he was not busy more," you told him shakily. "I-I know he works hard... but he used to be free more often."

Copia bit back the bitterness in his throat, forcing himself to focus on the drunken, clingy mess that was you. You weren’t his, no matter how much he wished you were. “I know,” he mumbled, gently wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side, keeping you close. He kept quiet, knowing the doubt would be clear in his words if he chose to speak them. 

"He loves me!" you tell him. "I know he does. He told me so. I hate when everyone looks at me like he doesn't; you just don't know him," you sniffed, voice shaky, as if you were trying to convince yourself more than you were trying to convince him.

Copia’s stomach twisted. No, he doesn’t, he wanted to say, but you believed that Second loved you, and he wasn’t strong enough to tell you the truth. So instead, he just let out a quiet sigh, rubbing your shoulders gently. “I know, bella,” he said quietly. “I know he does.” He didn’t, but to tell you that would break your fragile heart into even smaller pieces than Secondo already had. Swallowing thickly, he gently pushed you down onto the bed, caressing your cheek as he pulled the blanket over you. “Just rest.”

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

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

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

“aww my middle finger likes you”

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

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

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

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

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

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➵ papa primo

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

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

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

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

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

bro unironically listens to weezer

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

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

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

primo cannot cook for shit too btw

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

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

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

it’s basically his trademark at this point

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

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

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

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

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

and he gave the ghouls extra scritches too

primo also has the dad sneeze

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

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

it was kinda funny tbh

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

it’ll save your life

┅✦┅

➵ papa secondo

secondo has two moods

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

like ??? what’s this guy on???

this guy has the sass of a high school history teacher

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

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

it confuses you a lot of the time, really

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

it’s a habit

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

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

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

at least to you

secondo is an absolute menace to his brothers

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

definitely made copia cry at some point during his younger years

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

secondo’s literally so bossy it’s kinda funny

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

him and terzo are BEEFING all the time

and it’s over the stupidest shit too

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

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

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

even his ghouls were struggling too

“… secondo—“ “not. another. word.”

┅✦┅

➵ papa terzo

bro’s the fuckin’ definition of fruity

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

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

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

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

he shows off that waist frfr

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

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

he definitely passed down his fruitiness to copia

and to his ghouls

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ESPECIALLY copia, since he’s younger than him

terzo almost kicked him in the nuts because of that

but that definitely was a stab to his already massive ego

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

live laugh love terzo

┅✦┅

➵ papa copia

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

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

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

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

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

copia and you = parent duo for the era iv ghouls

he unironically owns a lot of funko pops

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

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

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

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

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

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

he fucking washes himself with dish soap and laundry detergent

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

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

copia is an avid mitski fan

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

radiates theater kid energy

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

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

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

copia is a little silly

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[ramblingoak]

good morning kisses+ you're gonna get lipstick all over me with:

Ribz I took your prompt and gave it a vampire twist, I hope you like it!

Breakfast in Bed

Secondo x Female Reader ~ The perfect start to your new life as a vampire

Warnings: vampire violence and all that entails, biting, blood, more blood, sharing a meal vampire style, fingering, oral sex, p in v sex, soft!vampiric!Secondo, rough sex, nsfw, 18+ only mdni, 2400 words

It was strange waking up after you died.

You weren’t struggling to breathe, gulping down huge breaths of air.  Technically you didn’t need to breathe anymore although Secondo said you might still do it out of habit.  The first thing you became aware of was the feel of the cool sheets against your skin.  You used to make fun of Secondo’s demands when it came to thread count, but now you were nothing but thankful for his pickiness as you laid there naked. 

With a soft groan you stretched out, spreading your limbs wide on the large bed as you started to look around the room.  Secondo had promised you that you wouldn’t wake up alone but there wasn't a sign of him anywhere.  The thick curtains were drawn over the windows and the only light came from a few dim lamps scattered around the room.  You planted your elbows beneath you to push yourself up but a horrific cramping in your stomach had you gasping and dropping back onto the bed. 

The pain was more intense than anything you’d experienced before.  Even more than how much it hurt when Secondo had bit into your neck.  You moved a hand up to where his teeth hand sunk in, expecting to feel broken skin but there was nothing.  Your skin was smooth and cold to the touch.  No sign of what he had done to you, of what you had asked him to do to you. 

You had asked him to make you a vampire. 

The Emeritus family being vampires was a horribly kept secret in the church.  Most of that was due to Terzo, a man that couldn’t be discreet about anything.  But with their status as vampires being well known amongst the congregation it provided them with ample opportunities to feed.  Most Siblings of Sin were more than willing to expose their neck or wrist to one of the brothers.  You counted yourself among them although Secondo’s favored place to bite you was at the inside of your thigh.  Your flesh there was often marred with bruises and bite wounds from your Papa.

But that was before last night.  Before he bit into his own wrist and had you drink from him.  You could still taste him on your tongue and you unashamedly rubbed your thighs together when you thought of how erotic it had been. 

“Look at you.”  You froze at the sound of his voice, looking around the room for him without luck.  When he spoke again you turned your head toward the foot of the bed and had to stifle a moan as you watched him walk out of the shadows towards you.  “How do you feel, belezza?”

“It hurts.” 

He tsked at you, shaking his head as he climbed onto the bed fully nude just like you were. In a stark contrast from yours his skin was warm as he placed his hands on your ankles.  They moved up and down your shins in a soothing motion all while he held your gaze.

“Where does it hurt?”  You moved a hand to rest over your belly, biting your lip when his eyes wandered down to watch as you rubbed it over your soft flesh.  “I know why it hurts there, belezza, and I know how to fix it.”

“How?” 

Secondo smiled, his fangs glinting in the light as he answered you. 

“You need to feed, my darling.” 

He turned and held a hand out behind him, reaching out into the shadows.  With bated breath you listened to the soft footfalls of a visitor as they moved closer to the bed.  A sister you hadn't seen before emerged into the light and you could taste her fear in the air.  Secondo wrapped an arm around their waste and tugged them hard enough they fell across his lap and over your legs. 

“Is she...is she for me?”

“Si, she’s yours.  Ripe and ready to help you complete your transformation.”   He reached for the poor girl’s neck and swept her hair aside.  “Sister Dana agreed to help you, right sister?”

When she didn’t answer, Secondo grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her neck back.  She cried out, a wounded noise escaping out of her throat at the treatment.  Before tonight you would have stepped in to reprimand Secondo.  You would have told him to stop playing with his food. 

But now you were too hungry to care.

You managed to sit up, finding it easy to ignore the pain when every cell in your body was screaming for the blood pumping through the sister’s veins.  Your hands flexed nervously in the bedding though, not sure what your first move should be.

“Would you like me to show you, belezza?”

All you could manage was a frantic nod, but Secondo didn’t seem to mind.  He leaned into the sister’s face and gave her a kiss on each cheek.  You could see her cheeks blushing from the attention, her mouth falling open when he dropped kisses down to her jaw.  He kept going until he was at her throat, right over her jugular.  Secondo murmured a few things in Italian before opening his mouth and sinking his teeth into the poor girl’s neck.

“Papa!”

Her voice was loud and panicked, echoing around you.  She tried to say something else but the only other noise she could make was a garbled sob as her own blood filled her mouth.  Your stomach clenched painfully as you watched it drip down her lips and slide down her neck.  With a deep, animalistic growl Secondo pulled off and ran his tongue up to her jawline to collect the spilled blood.  The sister clawed at Secondo's chest, tears gathering in her eyes when all your Papa did was give her a cruel smile in return.

“Hush little lamb, you promised to be good.”   

You could tell his words weren’t registering.  A pained grimace had taken over her face as she struggled to breathe through the blood.  Secondo chuckled darkly before he leaned in and captured her mouth in a deep kiss.  After a few moments he held out his hand for you and you took it without a second thought, pulling yourself up and across the bed to press against his side.  Your eyes fell to her neck, to the blood pumping from the wound and you eagerly fell forward to lap at it.

It was amazing.  The taste of her blood slid across your tongue like wine.  It was warm and rich, coating the inside of your mouth before dripping down the back of your throat.  With a frantic moan you clutched her, pulling her away from Secondo to hold her more tightly against you.  He moved so he was at your back and you could feel his hands on your shoulders, feel as they slipped around your front to cup your breasts.  He pinched at your nipples, harder than usual but the pain was good, it was so good. You needed more of it. 

You sank your teeth into her flesh, feeling it tear as you bit at her harshly.  The wound easily opened wider and you started noisily sucking her blood down.  One of Secondo’s hands started moving down your stomach, his hands bare and smooth on your skin.  When he reached your cunt his chest vibrated against your back with a laugh.

“Wet for me already?”   

Without warning he pushed two fingers into your dripping entrance, groaning as your body eagerly accepted them.  You could hear the wet sounds of him pumping them in and out even as you continued to suck as much blood out of the sister as you could.  Secondo’s fingers started working faster, brushing against that spot inside of you he never failed to find.  In and out, over and over again.  Your orgasm was getting closer and closer and right as you teetered on the edge he pressed his mouth to your neck and bit down. 

The feeling of his teeth on you again made everything inside and around you shatter.  You pulled off the sister’s neck and fell back, letting Secondo catch you.  The sister fell backwards at the foot of the bed, her eyes blank and unseeing as they stared up at the ceiling.  There was blood still oozing from her mouth and neck, the sight making you growl and want more.  Secondo cooed into your ear, gently turning your head towards his and then capturing your mouth in a kiss.  He growled at the taste of blood there and the kiss turned sloppy as you each chased the blood smeared over each other.  With a deep groan he eventually pulled away, smiling softly at you before tilting his head towards the pillows. 

“You should get some more rest, my darling.”  

You pouted as you scooted back towards the head of the bed, you’d rather stay in his arms a little longer.  Both of you were now warm from the blood you had drank but it felt good to be in his arms regardless.  His face paint was now smeared and mixed with blood although it did nothing to hide his handsome features.  If anything it made you desire him even more now that he had finally turned you.  You felt yourself getting wet again as you took him in and you relaxed further back into the pillows, opening your legs a bit to try to entice him closer.  Secondo took a deep breath, a feral grin forming on his face.  He remained still though and you stuck your bottom lip out further, wondering what was stopping him.

“Secondo, come here.”

“One moment, belezza.”  He reached out for the sister, her chest barely moving with her shallow breaths.  You were surprised she was still alive, but as you watched Secondo lift her wrist to his mouth you figured that wouldn’t be the case for very long.  “We shouldn’t waste our breakfast.”

The softest of whimpers escaped the girl’s mouth when he bit into her again.  He was oddly gentle about it but that might have been because he was staring at you while he fed from her for the final time.  You held his eyes as you slid a hand down your chest, stroking over your breast before going further to your cunt.  His eyes followed your fingers as you started to tease at your clit, rubbing over it in tight circles as he watched.  When you moved down and slipped them inside of you he abruptly dropped the girl’s wrist, her blood dripping from his lips and dropping onto your ankles as he loomed over you.

“Such a naughty thing, teasing your Papa.”  

He leaned down and began to kiss your skin, his lips pressing into random spots all the way up to your thighs.  In the light you could see the bloody lip marks he was leaving, almost like lipstick, some with a hint of black from his face paint.  Secondo brought his hands up to the inside of your thighs and pressed them further apart so he could settle close to your cunt.  You were still moving your fingers inside of you and his eyes followed them, his hot breath grazing your skin as he moved his head closer.

“Secondo, please.”

You were ready for him to tease you some more, but in one swift movement he grabbed your wrist and pulled it away so his mouth could replace your fingers.  His deep groan as he tasted you vibrated through your whole body.  The grip he had on your thighs got tighter as he circled your entrance with his tongue a few times before dipping it in as far as he could.  When you were able to look down at him you could see where your juices had mixed with the blood and paint he was already wearing.  

Secondo looked absolutely feral as he hungrily licked and sucked your cunt.  You reached out with one hand and grabbed his head, your fingers sliding along his scalp for purchase.  He seemed to take the hint and buried his face even deeper against you, his nose pressing perfectly at your clit.  You were so close, so close to the edge again.  Gasps and whimpers were escaping you non stop as Secondo fucked you with his tongue.  You were about to start begging for something, for anything, to push you over when he finally moved his lips up to your clit, sucking on it right as he shoved two fingers inside of you.  He rubbed them along your walls perfectly right as he nipped your clit and you were gone, your whole body shaking as your orgasm ripped through you.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there recovering, the only thing that made you finally stir was Secondo’s lips moving up your stomach.  When you mustered the energy to look down he was kissing you between your breasts.  The area around his mouth shone with your release and you let your head fall back with a groan.  He laughed against your skin, his breath exhaling on your neck as he continued to move up.  When he was finally hovering over you, his eyes bright with laughter and love, you couldn’t help but laugh as well.  You reached up and traced down the bridge of his nose before resting both your hands on his broad shoulders.

“Will it be like this forever?”

He grinned before leaning down and capturing your mouth in a kiss.  You mewled as you tasted yourself on his lips, especially when you caught just the slightest hint of blood lingering in his mouth.  When he pulled away and sat up to kneel between your legs you pouted at the loss of his mouth.  Secondo just grinned again and moved his hands under you to grip your ass and lift you off the bed.  You wrapped your legs around his waist on instinct and he moved one of his hands to grip his cock.

“Are you ready for forever, belezza?”

Before you could respond he started pushing into you, relentless and without stopping.  His thick cock stretched you like his fingers never could and you reached out to dig your nails into his arms as the pleasure and pain rolled over you.  He didn’t stop until he was buried all the way, his hips flush with yours.  It was so good you couldn’t help but let out a joyous laugh.  The thought of forever with Secondo, like this, was amazing.

“If forever means I get to wake up like this every day, then yes.”  

Secondo laughed as he gripped your waist tighter, easily lifting you up so he could start fucking you at the perfect angle.

“Anything you want, belezza.”  His pace increased, punishing and pleasurable, his mismatched eyes staring into yours as he fucked you.  “Anything.”

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

[copiousloverofcopia]

HI there Ghesties!!!

I know it's been another long one since I posted, but your girl has soooooo much on her plate right now.

it's been really hard to find time to do my stories justice and I don't wanna just give you guys anything that I am not happy with.

So, thank you all for being so patient with me and I am back with some Hunter's Moon celebrations with our beloved Secondo x OC Marcus content for the lovely @ashley-ghuleh

Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info!

💗 Special thanks to @gothdaddyissues for the beautiful dividers!

The Hell Torn Heart

After a recurring dream leaves Marcus, a half-demon/half-hellhound, dealing with the ghosts of his troubled past and visions of a place he has never been. He is unexpectedly thrust into an unknown world. Guided by a mysterious couple to the Ministry, surrounded by ghouls and siblings of sin. The once outcast struggles with what haunts him and learning to find himself—until he meets Secondo.

Chapter 5: Hunter's Moon

Also available HERE on AO3! Haven’t started yet? Read from the beginning HERE!

Definitely NSFW below the cut!

The sound of the ice clinking in the glass filled the otherwise hollow of the room. Secondo sat sullen at his desk, pulling out his bottom drawer and retrieving an old, leather-bound ledger. A group photo tucked inconspicuously inside. Between the faded and tattered pages—a totem of times long passed.

He sat back against his chair, looking down at the old Polaroid held in his right glove. Recognizing the handwriting of his elder brother—Samhain celebration. The year written now faded into a smear of ink. With only the faint hint of 19 still visible.

It was bittersweet now to look at it. More bitter than sweet if Secondo was being honest. A group of clergymen, all much younger than they were now, dressed in their best robes for the autumnal festivities. Primo, Secondo, Terzo, and even Nihil all in attendance, but it was the man standing just beside Secondo that held his attention. The man that held that bitter taste that lingered in Secondo’s mouth. James, his once good friend and colleague—Marcus’s father.

He had been sitting with the knowledge of Marcus's lineage for weeks. Holding in close to the chest while he waited for the right time to reveal it to his brothers. Debating to himself on whether or not Marcus would be safe if he chose to reveal it to the whole of the Ministry. After all he wasn’t the only one who James had betrayed. 

Staring at them in the picture. The perfect portrait of gluttonous fools who were high and mighty in both their lust for power and pursuit of sin. Each of them at one time like brothers to one another. Even James who at one time even Nihil considered a “son”. 

The pain of his betrayal still ached deep inside Secondo. A thought he had worked hard to push deep in the recesses of his mind. Finally, he became sick of looking at it. Crumbling up the photo in his hand and tossing in the dusty forgotten corner of the room. 

“Satana, potrebbe davvero provare a tornare?” he whispered to himself before finishing up the watered-down spirits in his glass. Just as he resigned to moving on with his work, there came a knock at the door. Secondo letting out a deep sigh as he called them in. His brothers just on time. 

“Fratello. You asked to see us.” Primo said, stepping into the office. Head held high and prideful as expected. He was always such a source of knowledge and reassurance for Secondo. Having practically raised both him and Terzo for their entire childhood, Primo was a father figure unlike anything Nihil could ever be.

“That I did, thank you for coming. I know it's a busy afternoon for us all.” he acknowledged watching as Terzo came following shortly behind. Secondo’s head had already begun to pound. Rubbing at his temples before motioning for his brothers to take a seat—they had much to discuss. 

“What's this about? You know I'm missing confessional for this.” Terzo huffed, slouching down in his chair like a petulant teenager who had convinced himself he had better things to do with his time. His annoying, although all too predictable behavior, sending Secondo and Primo’s eyes both rolling in their skulls. Knowing that the only reason Terzo would be miffed at missing his duties at the confessional, was because he was planning on spending the day fucking inside it. 

“There is a situation that has been brought to my attention and I think you all should know.” Secondo began, his eyes traveling over to the crumpled-up photo. Terzo, noting it. Hopping up from his chair to retrieve it, unwrinkled it to see the daunting image staring back at them. 

“It's…” he began, his mind flashing back to the night of James’s uprising. A night that his head was inches away from being served on a platter. Handing over the photo to Primo for him to see. The air in the room turned ominous as they all sat in a moment of silence. 

“He is Marcus's father.” Secondo admitted, breaking the quiet between them. Both Primo and Terzo's eyes widened at the news. 

“Oh cazzo. You have to be fucking joking.” Terzo sighed, taking a seat on the edge of Secondo's desk. Primo allowed himself to slowly sink back into his chair. The audible sounds of his bones and joints settling filling the space between them. 

“Are you sure?” He asked him, even though he knew that Secondo would not be the one to joke about such a thing. Understanding that for Secondo, it was especially devastating, if their new resident Hellhound and his brother’s unsung lover was the spawn of one of the Ministry’s, and the Emeritus line’s, greatest adversaries.

“I'm sure. He told me himself. Seems that he finally managed to summon a Hellhound of his own.” Secondo explained, exhaling hard with his words.

“More like found her, knocked her up, and took advantage of her, it sounds like.” Terzo hissed.

“Do you think he knows? Is war on the horizon for us?” Primo asked, worried that Marcus's appearance at their Abbey had been no coincidence.

 “You don’t expect James to just come strolling back, do you?” Terzo asked.  

“If he is being used to infiltrate us, I can assure you, he knows nothing of it.” Secondo groaned, realizing what Primo was implying. It was certainly something he himself had considered in the beginning. From the moment Marcus told him, there was always the fear in his mind that they were being set up. However, he couldn’t bring himself to think Marcus was involved. 

His feelings for the wayward dog were growing stronger with each passing day. Though he had yet to fully admit it to anyone. Maybe Marcus was trying to get close to him in order to give his father the upper hand. It would be his former best friend who would be most devastated to be betrayed once more by him again. He just couldn't bear to think it—something told him Marcus was genuine.  

“Aware or not…this spells trouble. We need to talk to him, find out more…”

“In time Terzo, I don’t think it would be wise to bring it up before the celebrations. Maybe after—until then we will need to keep our eyes open and our ears to the ground. I suggest we notify the clergy of possible threats and have the ghouls keep a keen eye out until we know more.” 

“I agree, no need to ruin the Hunter's Moon Hunt over sheer speculation.” Primo began, rising up from the chair so that he and Terzo could get things settled, “but fratello, make no mistake, we have to do something soon.”

“Agreed.” Secondo nodded as they headed out the door. 

The night sky was illuminated with brilliant shades of indigo, amber, and vermillion. The sun, having begun to set as the Hunter’s Moon hung high in the above. The enchantment, circling the grounds, emanating a haunting, green light. It had become something of a sport for the Abbey to celebrate this night. The night of the Hunter’s Moon—a time honored tradition. 

It started as a celebration of the feral nature of all Hell beasts. A time when their powers would be at their utmost capacity. Usurping the otherwise willfulness of them to be tamed—to follow commands. Now it had now become an opportunity for bets placed and gleeful indulgence. Everyone, excited to see who would be caught and when. 

The ghouls would be “hunted”—chased down and caught once again by their prospective Papas. The evenings celebrations, all culminating in a night of sin, power, and depending on the relationship between them, carnal desires and lust. The entirety of the Abbey, benefiting from the Hellish impulses and debauchery the night created. A perfect and proper display of their faithfulness of sin, meant to please Lucifer himself. And tonight, Marcus would officially join the pack.

Far down in the bowels of the Abbey, the dungeons were filled with ghouls. All of them snapping and snarling as they waited for Sister Imperator's command for the gates to be open. Releasing them onto the grounds while Primo, Secondo, and Terzo awaited them. Cardinal Copia, along with Aether and Dew and the rest of the newly summoned ghouls watching in awe. Their time to come once Copia would be allowed to ascend. Leaving them for now to be delighted spectators to the night's events. 

“Well now.” Primo remarked, noting the list of ghouls taking place in the hunt. “I see that although Copia brought him in, Sister is allowing the Hellhound to run for you huh fratello.” he finished, smirking at Secondo. The three Emeritus sons already prepared to take off on horseback after their ghouls. Like an old English foxhunt, ready to capture their prey. 

“I think we all know why.” Terzo jabbed back, “...seems the old man has grown quite smitten with the puppy.” 

“Ah…non riferirti a lui in quel modo.” Primo chided, worried about Terzo's lack of decorum towards their brother’s new charge. 

“It is alright Primo. It's a term of endearment...I think.” Secondo winked, knowing that the ghouls too called Marcus, “puppy”. A friendly nickname given to the new guy who they had only ever accepted as their own. 

“Whatever you say then fratello.” Primo nodded as Aether, Dew, Copia, and Sister Imperator approached them. The mass of siblings, clergy, and remaining ghouls, all filing in on the back courtyard as they waited. 

The sound of anxious hoofs, shifting around on the old stone pavement echoed in the cold autumn night. Secondo exhaled as he waited patiently, his breath just visible in the air. All of them all bundled in their winter vestments. The hint of pinkened noses noted just beneath the brother’s papal paints.  

“Well now, have we all placed our bets?” Copia asked, smiling with his ledger and quill ready in hand. He was honored to be serving as unofficial bookie for the event. The Ministry, choosing to “look the other way” at the betting practice. It was a position that had long since been held by the Ministry treasurer. Which at this time, and for many years now, had just so happened to be the Cardinal. 

“We all know who's getting caught first.” Terzo chuckled, popping his neck from side to side, ready to ride. 

“That's because the two of you just want to fuck each other's brains out… no respect for the sport of it.” Primo scoffed. It was always Omega, Terzo’s ghoul and lover, that was caught first. The two of them barely able to contain themselves long enough before they would spend the evening entangled with one another, and usually a very willing sister, deep in the western wood. Showing more appreciation for lustful endeavors than they ever did for the Hunter's Moon celebration itself. 

“Pff.” Terzo shrugged, smirking once more as he still knew it was true. The youngest Emeritus son winking to Sister Jillian who stood amongst the crowd. The obvious choice for their lascivious plans with her ample bosom and bedroom eyes.

With Omega surely on his way to being “caught” first, it was more exciting to see who would be caught last—the one to hold out the longest. Would it be one of Primo or Secondo's ghouls? Would Marcus even have a chance of out running Secondo? Only the night would tell. 

“Ok last call for bets!” Copia announced as he finished up inscribing the last bit of guesses from the siblings and, although she was officially not supposed to, Sister Imperator. Who had discreetly managed to slip Aether a 20. 

“My money's on the dog." she winked. Aether, chuckling to himself as he quickly took the bill from her and made his way over to Copia. 

“Best betting pool the Abbey has seen in decades.” Father Jim delighted as he Copia and Dew stood at the bottom of the steps in the courtyard. Aether approached them, sending a wink to Copia as he handed him the money. Nodding in Sister’s direction as Copia immediately caught on. Jotting down her initials in the ledger. 

“Sí, Mammon would certainly be proud.” Copia said, nodding as well back towards her.

Marcus was absolutely feral. Teeth bared as drool rolled from within his mouth. His full Hellhound visage on display. Staying true in form along with all the ghouls around him. Their usual glamours, falling to the wayside as they all roared, hissed, and growled. Ready for the indication that the hunt had begun. Releasing them from their hold within the dungeons. 

“That old man better be ready” he growled. Pacing back and forth along the dirt floor.

“Don’t get too cocky, Cucciolo. That old man is one of the best I have ever seen.” Earth snapped. Playfully nipping at Marcus like they were a pair of hyper littermates. Playing with one another to prepare for the hunt. Marcus’s tail, wagging with excitement as he waited anxiously for things to begin. 

Then it happened, the shot rang out from Sister Imperator’s gilded pistol and the gates lifted. Unleashing them onto the Abbey grounds. Taking off full force into the woods beyond them. Only moments could they hear Sister Imperators voice on the megaphone.

“Let the Hunter’s Moon Hunt begin!” she called, allowing the Papas now to take off after them. Following them deep into the woods to be tracked and caught. Marcus began panting and howling as he ran. Deeper and deeper into these woods he had only recently come to know. Still a novice as he allowed his wild nature to take over—guide him on his way. 

He had never felt so alive. The cold wind, flowing through his hair as he ran. The light of the moon, highlighting his silhouette in an eerie reddened hue. Marcus, feeling his true power. What it really meant to be a Hellhound for the first time in his life. Unabashed, wild—free.

I don’t care what the others might say. The old man will never catch me, he thought. Reveling in this newfound freedom. Losing himself as he began frolicking, prancing, and running. Paying little attention as each of the Papas managed to capture a ghoul or two around him.

Marcus didn’t care. He was thrilled to remain uncaught. Feeling smug with his ability to evade his would-be captor. Feeling confident enough in his lead to stop. Hollowing up at the orange devil in the sky. Barking and running in circles when he heard the faint snap of a twig from behind him. It was Secondo, jumping down off his horse to pursue him on foot. The “old man was surprisingly fast for his age.  

“You will only get so far, Cucciolo! My track record is perfect.” Secondo yelled into the woods, only seeing a small speck of his target running in front of him. 

“Sure, old man, we'll see about that!” Marcus snarked, tongue hanging from his mouth as he panted his way up a hill.

A group of ghouls; Water, Earth, Alpha, and some of the others joined him on each side. All of them happily ran beside him. Stopping again for only a moment together to howl at the moon.

“Gotcha!” Terzo beamed, snagging up Omega swiftly and with ease. The big ghoul, who had shockingly held out longer than expected, melted into his Papa's touch as they kissed against a tree. Marcus couldn’t help but blush at their fervidness and passion. Wondering if he would allow himself to be caught. If only just to have Secondo once more in his arms, his mouth—.

Back at the Abbey’s courtyard, the crowd waited for the return of the ghouls and Marcus. Primo proudly had caught all of his ghouls in record time. Terzo was still, as expected, in the middle of the woods with Omega. Sister Jillian, now suspiciously missing from the rest of the group. Secondo too had managed to retrieve everyone—everyone except Marcus. 

“Cucciolo! Torna qui, piccolo stronzo!” Secondo yelled out. The whole of the Abbey listened as he spouted his frustrations in strings of profane Italiano. His boisterous rant pouring over the wind scorched trees and echoing towards them. The lot of them, amused at his vexation. 

Secondo couldn’t care less what they thought. Still hoping to get the jump on his new pet. The young Hellhound, however, was proving to be more of a challenge than he'd imagined. Feeling the age difference between them in a way he never had before.  

“How long should we let this go on?” Copia asked, struggling to hold back his own amusement. Watching as Marcus managed to evade Secondo's every move. His tail wagging behind him as Marcus did everything he could to mess with him. The siblings, clergy, and the rest of the ghouls all became dizzy as they watched Marcus running in circles around one another. 

“Just a bit longer….one of them will fall out.” Sister Imperator hummed, satisfied with the turn of events. Reaching back to grab her lump sum of winnings from behind her from Aether as she smirked. 

“When this is over I am never letting you off the leash again.” Secondo hissed. Angrily tapping the wrapped-up leash between his hands as he saw Marcus along the precipice of the woods. 

“Is that so?” Marcus grinned, running back inside. Secondo gritted his teeth. He needed to catch his willful pup, lest he’d never hear the end of the ribbing from his brothers. He yanked back on the reins, tapping his horse. 

“Yah!” Secondo yelled, the horse taking off fast after Marcus. The sound of its hoofs, loud in Secondo’s ears. Gaining on Marcus quickly. Delighted that he finally seemed to be slowing down. 

“Oh fuck!” Marcus yelped, looking over his shoulder to see Secondo following closely behind. He continued to run, flying past the blur of trees and brush. Secondo, still maintaining a close distance behind him when suddenly the sound of hoofs stopped. Marcus halting in his position and slowly turning around. 

Sniffing the air around him for Secondo’s scent. The air, so muddied with the scent of all the rest of the ghouls and the Papas, including Secondo, that it was almost impossible to discern him. Marcus, panting hard as he frantically searched his surroundings for a sign of movement. His ears piqued to any noise from within the trees. Reverting to his human form, wiped from all his expended energy. 

“Gotcha!” Secondo proclaimed, snatching Marcus up by his collar and throwing him up against an old corkwood tree. Marcus, turning to face him as their mouths came crashing together like ferocious waves. Tasting, needing—desperate for one another. 

“I need you.” Marcus moaned. As Secondo began undoing his belt. Marcus naked as the day he was born in the chilling air. The heat between them, keeping him warm.

 “I need you too.” Secondo groaned as he freed his hard cock from his pants. Leaking and throbbing with his intentions. Marcus practically salivating at the sight of him. 

“Then take me.” Marcus purred, turning around to rub his ass against the swelling of him. 

“I will do with you as I please.” Secondo hissed, attaching the leach to Marcus’s collar as he licked his lips. Sinking his own teeth into his young lover's shoulder—asserting himself as the dominant one between them. 

“Ah fuck.” Marcus mewled. Secondo, already nudging his cock against the tightly ribbed opening. Using his hand to smear the wealth of precum along his shaft. Easing his swift gliding straight into Marcus’s ass.

“Make no mistake. You belong to me now.” Secondo groaned as he began fucking him. His cock, quickly spreading out his hole to house him deep inside. Withdrawing back only to slam harder and deeper inside him.  

“Mmm…yes Papa….” Marcus moaned, bending further forward. His new position, allowing Secondo deeper inside. 

“Such a good pet you are, taking my cock so well. I’ve dreamt of this moment.” 

“Mmm...Secondo…ah! Fuck me too.” Marcus cried out as Secondo reached around to take Marcus's cock in his still gloved hand. The cool leather slick from Secondo’s cum along Marcus’s shaft. 

“That's right you little mutt, cum for your Papa. Cum in my hand while I cum in your ass.” Secondo demanded as he yanked back on Marcus’s leash once more. Railing him into complete submission. The sounds of his lap pounding against Marcus’s ass surely heard all the way back at the Abbey.  

“Oh yes! Yes!” Marcus called out, tears streaming down his face with the mix of pain and pleasure. Secondo, buried deep in his asshole. Practically impaling him on him, pressing hard along his weak spot. Marcus, quickly cumming all over Secondo’s hand. Face bright red and eyes almost crossed as he burst in his hand. 

Soon Secondo too couldn’t help but cum. Thrusting and pounding harder and harder until the warm liquid from Marcus’s orgasm ran over his wrist. The feel of it sending him over as he slammed Marcus’s ass down hard against his lap. Pouring ropes of cum deep in the back of him. 

When it was all said and done, they both laid spent on the ground. Breathing, slowly settling as Marcus laid his hand against Secondo’s warm chest. His Papa, wrapping them both in his vestments as best he could. The cold, now beginning to settle in as the sweat from their efforts evaporated from their skin. 

“You were amazing tonight.” Secondo hummed. 

“Really?” Marcus asked, a bit surprised that Secondo was so impressed with him. Both of them, still reveling in descent from their orgasms. 

“Truly. Everyone else had been caught tonight before you. You should be proud, Cucciolo.” Secondo explained. Marcus felt warm inside. Proud of himself for his efforts but completely enamored with Secondo that the victory paled in comparison. 

“Thank you.” was all he could muster. Secondo, pulling out a cigarillo to puff on before they’d head back in. 

“You’re welcome.” Secondo began when the post-coital reality began to set in. There was still so much to learn about Marcus—and if he truly knew about his father. Secondo knew he would have to tell him, but tonight was certainly not the night. For now, he would enjoy this moment between them—a rare moment of happiness.

“Happy first Hunter’s Moon.” Marcus smiled in his adorable naive, but charming tone. 

“Happy Hunter’s Moon.”

Notes: Satana, potrebbe davvero provare a tornare?- Satan, could he really be trying to come back? non riferirti a lui in quel modo.-do not refer to him like that.  Cucciolo-Puppy torna qui, piccolo stronzo- come back here you little shit.

[dervampireprince]

ASMR | Ghost - Cardinal Copia x Listener SFW Cardinal Copia Tries To Comfort You

[M4A] [Listener left ambiguous - could be a human member of the church of a ghoul, but aren't a member of the band] [Comfort] [Reverse comfort] [TW rats]

So this silly man has been requested a lot. I'll confess, my favourite Papas are Terzo and Secondo, and while I like Copia I'm much more familiar with him in his early cardinal appearances in the web shorts Ghost made and not so familiar with how he acts as Papa IV so this audio is set during Copia's early days after being put as the new leader of the band and public face of the church. I just don't think I'd be able to accurately act in character for Papa IV Copia, but hope I did an okay job as the young Cardinal Copia. Also, I made him autistic-coded because I can. Please let me know if you think I did okay as him, if you want more of him, and if you think the listener should be a brother/sister of sin (I don't know if there's an official gender neutral phrase) or a Ghoul or if I should try and keep it ambiguous (though I don't know if that's possible).

I cannot claim to have made up the name Rigatoni for one of Copia's rats, I've seen multiple fanfics and posts on Tumblr that use that name and unsure who I should credit the name too, it seems a fairly popular headcannon in the fandom. I'm expanding it further that I'm headcannoning all his rats are named after types of pasta, or at least different food/dishes.

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Old public spicy audios on sound gasm (link in pinned post). 2 Exclusive spicy audios on Patreon every month. I also stream on Twitch every week @ dervampireprince . [minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.] [do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]

[her-satanic-wiles]

Kinktober Day 25 - Breeding

Cardinal!Secondo x Reader

Since Papa Primo took his ascension, Cardinal Secondo had started thinking about the future. More specifically, the legacy he was going to leave behind…

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 4k.

Reading Time: 16 min.

Warnings: breeding, choking, degradation, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, PIV sex, rough sex, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

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 🔞

Since Primo took his ascension to the papacy, Cardinal Secondo had started thinking about the future. More specifically, the legacy he was going to leave behind. It was a shift you noticed almost immediately—small at first, just a tightening of his features when he spoke of his brother, a tension in his hands when he held you. But soon it had grown into something heavier, something that weighed on him in quiet moments and filled the silence between you.

You sit across from him now, the low light of the candle flickering between you as you watch him, his brow furrowed, eyes distant. The usual fire that burned behind those stormy irises seemed dimmed lately, as though the weight of his thoughts had stolen it away. His hand rested on the glass of wine beside him, untouched, fingers tracing the rim absent-mindedly. He hadn’t said much in the last hour, his mind clearly elsewhere.

“Secondo?” you murmur softly, reaching out across the table to lay your hand atop his. It’s a small gesture, but it pulls him from whatever spiral of thoughts had him captive. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see that flicker of warmth return.

“Hm?” His voice is deep, gravelly, but softer when he speaks to you. It’s always been like that—rough around the edges, but with a tenderness reserved only for you.

“Where are you?” you ask, squeezing his hand gently.

He sighs, running his free hand through his dark hair. “Right here,” he replies, though you know it’s only half true. His gaze drifts again, and after a moment, he speaks, his voice quieter, thoughtful. “Primo… he’s secured his place, you know. His ascension, his legacy. And what have I done?” He chuckles, but it’s a hollow sound, lacking any real humour. “Nothing but stand in his shadow.”

You frown at that. It wasn’t like him to talk this way—to compare himself so openly to his brothers. He was always the proud, stubborn one, the one who walked his own path without looking back. But Primo’s rise had shifted something deep within him, something that gnawed at his sense of purpose.

“Secondo…” You stand and move around the table, slipping into the seat beside him. Your hand lifts to cup his cheek, turning his face towards you. “You’ve built your own legacy. Look at everything you’ve accomplished—everything we’ve accomplished.” Your thumb brushes gently across the stubble on his jawline. “Don’t let Primo’s path make you question yours.”

He leans into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment, as though savouring the reassurance you offer. When he opens them again, the vulnerability is still there, lingering behind that hard exterior. “I just… what will they remember of me, when it’s all said and done?” he asks quietly. “I don’t want to be forgotten.”

You shake your head, your heart tightening at his words. “You won’t be forgotten,” you tell him firmly. “You’re unforgettable, Secondo. Not just to the Clergy, but to me. You’ve left a mark, whether you see it or not.”

A faint smile tugs at his lips, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You always know how to talk sense into me, don’t you?” He presses a kiss to your palm before taking your hand in his, his grip firm but comforting.

“It’s the truth,” you reply softly. “And whatever comes next, I’ll be right here beside you.”

Secondo’s gaze softens, and for the first time that evening, the tension in his shoulders seems to ease. He reaches out, pulling you closer until you’re nestled against his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a rare, unguarded moment of intimacy. His chin rests atop your head, and you hear the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your ear, grounding you both.

“Thank you,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned back, capturing your lips with his in a heated kiss. The world around you faded, leaving only the warmth of his body beneath you as you straddled his lap, your thighs pressing against him. It was a bold move, one that sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you.

Pulling away slightly, he fixed you with a heated gaze, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “You know, Primo doesn’t have any children yet,” he mused, his breath hot against your skin. “Maybe we should get on with it.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, a wicked glint that sent a jolt of desire straight through you.

Your heart raced at the implication, the raw, primal need for his seed mixing with the thrill of his proposition. “Get on with what exactly?” you teased, though your body betrayed you, arching closer to him, eager for the tension that crackled in the air.

He chuckled, the sound low and sultry. “You know what I mean. It’s about time I leave my mark.” His hands slid down your back, gripping your hips as he shifted beneath you, the growing hardness between his legs pressing against your core. “What better way than to fill you up, to ensure there’s a little bit of me running around?”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, the idea igniting a fire within you. You’d imagined this moment before—the thrill of being taken, of being claimed in the most primal way. You bit your lip, a sly smile forming as you leaned in closer, your voice low. “You want to breed me, then?”

“Absolutely,” he said, the heat in his gaze intensifying. “I want to see you round with my child, filled with what’s mine.” His grip tightened on your hips, pulling you down onto him, urging you to feel the hard evidence of his desire. “I want everyone to know you belong to me.”

The suggestion hung heavy in the air, a heady mix of lust and longing. The thought of being filled with his seed, of carrying a part of him, drove you wild. “Then let’s not waste any more time,” you whispered, your voice laced with urgency.

His lips crashed against yours once more, and you felt the world around you fade again. You were entirely in his grasp, and as he began to grind against you, the line between need and want blurred.

Secondo’s kiss grew more demanding, his lips bruising against yours as his hands gripped your hips with an almost possessive force. He shifted beneath you, his hardness pressing insistently against your core, the friction sending waves of pleasure through you. His breath came hot and fast as he broke the kiss, leaning back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with hunger.

“You’re going to take it all,” he growled, his voice low, dangerous, and thick with intent. “Every last drop. And when I’m done, you’ll be dripping with me.” His hands slipped under your shirt, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you closer, your bodies flush against each other.

You let out a soft gasp, the primal heat of his words curling low in your belly, sparking that urgent desire that had been building between you. His hands roamed your body, rough but precise, as though he was laying claim to every inch of you. And in that moment, you were his—completely and utterly.

“I want to watch it take,” he rasped, his lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I want to see you swollen, round with my child. And every time you look in the mirror, you’ll remember that I put it there.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your body responding instinctively to the raw, animalistic need coursing through him. You could feel his cock twitch beneath you, the promise of what he would do pushing you further into that primal state of mind. You wanted him inside you, to be filled, stretched, and claimed in the most intimate way.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice breathy, pleading. You rolled your hips against him, feeling the hard length of him through his trousers, desperate for more. “I need you, Secondo.”

Secondo’s eyes darkened further at your words, a growl escaping his throat as he lifted you effortlessly from his lap. His hands were firm, commanding, as he carried you to the bed, the intensity in his gaze never wavering. He laid you down on the mattress with a swift motion, his body immediately following, hovering over you with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

“You need me?” he rasped, his voice dripping with dominance as he settled between your thighs, the heat of his body pressing into yours. “Then you’ll have me.” His hands were everywhere—rough and possessive—peeling away your clothes with swift, eager movements until you were bare beneath him, exposed and vulnerable to his every whim.

His lips found your neck, biting and sucking at your skin, leaving marks as he worked his way down your body. His hands gripped your thighs, pushing them apart, spreading you open for him as he settled between your legs. He paused for a moment, his gaze fixed on you, taking in the sight of you laid out before him.

“You look perfect like this,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, thick with lust. “Ready to be filled. Ready to take everything I give you.” His fingers trailed down your thigh, brushing over your slick heat, teasing you until you squirmed beneath him.

Without warning, he thrust two fingers inside you, a guttural moan escaping your lips at the sudden intrusion. He moved them with precision, curling and twisting, making sure you were soaked, ready for what was to come. The rhythm of his hand quickened, coaxing your pleasure from you until your hips bucked, desperate for more.

Secondo’s fingers continued their relentless assault, plunging in and out of you with a practised rhythm that left you gasping for breath. His touch was precise, the pads of his fingers grazing against that perfect spot inside you, making your body arch off the mattress with every stroke. The wet sound of his fingers moving inside you filled the room, mingling with the soft, desperate moans escaping your lips.

“That’s it,” he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction. “I can feel how ready you are. You’re going to take it all so well, aren’t you?”

You whimpered, nodding, unable to form words as his fingers curled inside you, pressing harder against that spot that made your vision blur. He increased the pace, his other hand gripping your thigh to hold you still as he fucked you with his fingers, his thumb brushing over your clit in maddening, teasing circles.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned down, his lips ghosting over your ear. “So fucking desperate. You’ll take whatever I give you, won’t you?”

Your hips bucked against his hand, seeking more, the need to be filled overwhelming every other thought. “Please,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper, your body trembling beneath him. “I need more.”

Secondo’s dark chuckle vibrated through you, his fingers still thrusting, twisting, bringing you closer to the edge with every movement. “You’ll come on my fingers first,” he growled, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, circling faster. “Then I’ll give you what you need.”

The tension coiled tighter and tighter within you, your body writhing under his touch as the pleasure built to a nearly unbearable height. His fingers quickened, fucking you with ruthless precision, his thumb never relenting, pushing you closer to the brink.

“Come for me,” he demanded, his voice low, commanding. “Now.”

It was all too much, the pressure finally breaking as your orgasm crashed over you, your muscles clenching around his fingers, your body shuddering violently beneath him. You cried out, your nails digging into his arms as the wave of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

But Secondo didn’t stop. Even as you came, he kept his fingers deep inside you, drawing out every last tremor, every aftershock, until you were a quivering mess beneath him. He pulled his fingers out slowly, savouring the sight of your slickness coating them.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and satisfied as he brought his fingers to his lips, licking them clean, his eyes never leaving yours. “But we’re just getting started.”

Secondo’s gaze was dark and unrelenting, watching your body tremble beneath him, still sensitive from your release. Without a word, he stood up, his hands going to the buttons of his cassock. Slowly, methodically, he began to strip, his eyes never leaving yours as each layer of his robes fell away, revealing the powerful body beneath.

He knew what he was doing, teasing you with the slow reveal of his skin, making you wait in anticipation. His movements were deliberate, controlled, his cock hard and thick as it sprang free from his trousers. He stroked himself lazily, watching the way your eyes followed every movement, your breath hitching with anticipation.

“You want this, don’t you?” His voice was low, a dark promise laced with the growl in his tone. He stepped closer to the bed, standing over you as his hand stroked his cock, the head already glistening with pre-cum. “You want to be filled by me. You want me to fuck you so deep you’ll still feel it tomorrow.”

You could only nod, your body arching towards him, desperate for his touch, for the weight of him pressing you into the mattress. The tension between you was thick, every second of waiting only amplifying the need that coursed through your veins.

Secondo climbed back onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide as he lowered himself over you. His cock brushed against your entrance, teasing, the slickness of your arousal coating the tip as he pressed just enough to make you squirm.

“Are you ready for me?” he rasped, his breath hot against your neck as his fingers wrapped around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your pulse quicken. “Ready to take me inside? To be bred like you’re meant to be?”

You whimpered, nodding as his grip on your throat tightened slightly, the sensation making your core clench in anticipation. The primal need to be filled, to have him inside you, overwhelmed everything else. “Yes,” you gasped. “Please, Secondo. I need you.”

A wicked smile curled his lips, and without another word, he thrust into you in one smooth, powerful motion, filling you completely. The stretch was immediate, intense, as your body adjusted to the sheer size of him. His cock buried deep, and the sensation of being completely filled sent a shudder through you.

Secondo paused for a moment, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to make you gasp, his eyes locked on yours as he held you there, pinned beneath him. “You feel that?” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “That’s what you’ve been craving. Being filled, claimed. And I’m going to give you more than you can handle.”

He began to move, pulling out slowly, teasingly, before slamming back into you with a force that left you breathless. Each thrust was deliberate, deep, hitting that perfect spot inside you with an intensity that made your toes curl. His hand remained on your throat, controlling the pressure, keeping you in that delicate balance between pleasure and submission.

The friction was overwhelming, the way his cock stretched you with every thrust, driving deeper and deeper, filling you in a way that made your mind spin. Secondo’s other hand gripped your hip, holding you still as he fucked you with an almost punishing pace, each thrust harder, more desperate, as though he was determined to make you feel every inch of him.

“You’re going to take all of me,” he rasped, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he watched the way your body responded to him. “Every last drop. I’m going to fill you so full, you won’t be able to think about anything else. You’ll be dripping with me, swollen with my child.”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, the primal desire to be bred consuming every thought. You could feel the tension building in your core again, that tight coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter with every thrust, his cock slamming into you with a rhythm that was as precise as it was brutal.

His hand around your throat tightened just a little more, not enough to hurt, but enough to make your breath catch, to make the world blur at the edges. The sensation only heightened your pleasure, the mixture of control and submission driving you closer to the edge.

“Come for me,” he growled, his thumb pressing against the hollow of your throat, his cock hitting deep inside you. “Come while I fill you. I want to feel you tighten around me, milk me dry.”

His words were the final push you needed, the pressure inside you snapping as your orgasm crashed through you. Your body clenched around him, your muscles contracting as waves of pleasure ripped through you, your breath coming in ragged gasps beneath his grip. The sensation was overwhelming, the intensity of it heightened by the way his cock filled you completely, by the control he had over you.

Secondo didn’t stop as your orgasm wracked your body. If anything, the way you clenched around his cock only seemed to spur him on. He growled low in his throat, his hips snapping against yours in rough, unrelenting thrusts. He watched you with a dark satisfaction, his hand still wrapped around your throat, keeping you teetering on the edge of breathlessness.

But then, he slowed just enough to pull out of you, your body immediately missing the fullness, the heat of him. Before you could protest, his strong hands gripped your hips, flipping you over onto your stomach. You barely had time to catch your breath before he yanked you up onto your hands and knees, positioning you the way he wanted, his cock hard and glistening as it pressed against your entrance again.

“You look perfect like this,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he reached for your hair, twisting his hand into it and pulling your head back with a firm, possessive tug. The angle forced your back into a deep arch, your body exposed and open for him, exactly how he wanted you. “Made to be fucked like an animal. Made to be bred.”

With one swift motion, he slammed back into you, deeper than before, his cock hitting you at a different angle that made stars explode behind your eyes. The rough stretch sent a cry from your lips, but it was swallowed by the sound of his ragged breathing and the slap of skin against skin.

His thrusts were merciless now, his grip on your hair tight, pulling you back onto his cock with every brutal thrust. The sound of it—of him, of you—filled the room, raw and primal. His free hand slid down your back, nails dragging across your skin before gripping your waist, holding you in place as he pounded into you relentlessly.

“You’re going to take everything I give you,” he growled, his voice low and gravelly in your ear as he pulled your head back further, your scalp tingling from the force of his grip. “Every drop of me, filling you, making you mine. You’ll be swollen with my child, marked by me.”

His words sent another surge of heat through you, your body trembling under the force of his dominance, the possessiveness of his tone. You could feel yourself spiraling towards another release, the tension building rapidly as his cock drove into you with a punishing rhythm. Every thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, each one harder, deeper, as if he was determined to make you feel him for days.

“Fuck, you feel so tight,” he rasped, his voice strained as he tugged on your hair again, pulling your body back against his, the slap of his hips against your ass loud and unforgiving. “You were made for this. Made to be fucked and filled. I’ll breed you again and again, until you’re swollen with my legacy.”

His hand on your waist slid down, fingers finding your clit as he began to rub tight circles against the sensitive nub, driving you closer to the edge with every stroke. You could feel your body responding, your muscles tightening around him, the pressure building inside you until it was almost unbearable.

“I want you to come again,” he growled, his breath hot against the back of your neck as he leaned over you, his hand tugging your hair harder, his fingers pressing harder against your clit. “I want you to come while I fill you, while I claim you.”

His words, his rough touch, the way his cock filled you over and over—it was too much. The coil of pleasure inside you snapped, and you came with a cry, your body clenching tightly around him, spasming as wave after wave of intense pleasure tore through you. Your vision blurred, and the only thing that kept you grounded was the feeling of him, his cock still pounding into you, his grip in your hair, his words dripping with lust.

“That’s it,” he growled, his voice strained as your orgasm milked his cock, your walls clamping down around him. “Good girl. Now, take it. Take all of me.”

With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock twitching as he released, filling you with his seed. You could feel the heat of it, the way he pulsed inside you, his body pressed against yours as he spilled everything he had into you. His grip on your hair loosened, but his other hand held your hips tightly, keeping you in place as he emptied himself into you.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, his chest pressed against your back, both of you panting, bodies spent but still connected. You could feel his cum leaking from you, a reminder of how full he had made you, of what he had promised.

Finally, he released your hair, his hand sliding down to caress your back in a short moment of tenderness. He pulled out of you slowly, his seed spilling from your body as he did, the emptiness almost jarring after the intensity of being so full.

As the aftershocks of your shared release began to fade, you felt Secondo’s hand slide gently over your back, grounding you in the aftermath of what had just transpired. He lingered there, his breathing gradually slowing, his chest rising and falling heavily. When he finally drew away, there was a lingering sense of warmth in the way his fingers traced your skin, a rare tenderness surfacing just beneath his commanding exterior.

Slowly, he helped you turn over onto your back, the intensity of his gaze softened now, though there was still a flicker of pride and satisfaction in his eyes as he looked down at you. He adjusted the rumpled blankets beneath you, a subtle but genuine gesture, before he stretched out beside you, one arm possessively curling around your waist as he pulled you close.

Without a word, he tucked you against his chest, his breathing rhythmic and steady as his fingers idly traced patterns along your shoulder. Exhausted and blissfully content, you nestled into his warmth, letting your head rest against him as the weight of sleep began to settle in. Secondo’s hand continued its slow, comforting movements, his presence grounding you, marking the end of an unforgettable night with an unspoken promise of more.

“Sleep, cara mia,” he murmured, voice low and soothing, his breath brushing against your hair. “You’ll need your strength.”

And with that, you drifted off in his embrace, the memories of his words, his touch, and the possessive look in his eyes lingering as you slipped into sleep.

Prev./Next

[ghuleh-recs]

In honor of the wonderful @angellayercake's birthday I've made us all a mixtape of some of her greatest hits (in my humble opinion)! She is such a lovely, adorable, talented, and kind person. It is common knowledge that Cake writes the Terzo of all time. He is a fully realized human person in her work--funny, flawed, and dreamy as fuck. In the list below you'll find incredible characterization, enchanting romance, and smut that will make your brain melt right out of your damn head. Please consider leaving a comment or two as a lil bday gift for our girl! She deserves it ♡

recs under the cut!

Kiss me just to kiss me - Terzo x Reader - G, 900 words

Papa struggles not to let his mask slide in front of a sibling of sin.

Banchetto - Terzo x Reader - E, 22.1k (wip)

Papa Emeritus III is struggling to adapt to his life after the Ghost project but perhaps some good homemade Italian food will do the trick.

Pastimes for a Retired Papa - Terzo x Reader - E, 21.9k

So in my mind the Papas were not murdered they all just moved away from the main base of the Ministry to enjoy their retirement. Primo is definitely in the place that has the best gardens tending to his beloved plants. Secondo moved to a bustling city where he could party to his heart's content. But what of Terzo? Our darling Papa III, so dedicated to the proliferation of the female orgasm. Where would he choose to spend his retirement? You, a stressed and overworked woman who has just been recommended the services of The Ministry's Spa Resort, may be about to find out.

Give Me Your Best Copper Kiss - Cardinal Copia x Reader - E, 9.3k

You have spent your whole adult life at the Abbey thinking that the Church of Satan would allow you to fulfill your life calling but so far you had been disappointed. The arrival of a new Cardinal at the Abbey renews your passion for your faith and you hope he will bring the change you have been craving. And that you will be the one to help him.

The perks of working for Papa - Terzo x Reader - E, 1.5k

After a hectic morning Papa asks his assistant to have breakfast with him. (read part 1 here!)

from this slumber you will wake when true love's kiss the spell shall break - Terzo x Reader - M, series

Attending to the Veneration of Relics is a time consuming if boring task for a newly appointed sibling of sin and you can't help wondering what was so special about the Emeritus brothers, especially the Third.

Pomegranate Noir - Terzo x Reader - E, 4.8k

Papa Emeritus III knows the perfect way to unwind after a stressful day. Will you be willing to assist?

Si Padrona - Cardinal Copia x Reader - E, 5.2k

Copia, femdom, ass worship, pegging. Thats it!

𖤐 you know the drill: bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

Did I forget your favorite? You've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡

[theunholybastard]

Kinktober: October 7th - Deepthroating (Papa Emeritus II x Male!Reader)

Tags: Soft-Dom Secondo, Deepthroating, Sex Education, Throat-Training, Religious Trauma, Internalized Homophobia, Catholic Guilt, Inexperience, Size Kink, Praise, Dick Piercings, Cum-Swallowing, First Person POV

When I left Catholicism to join the Satanic church, I thought it would be completely different. Don't get me wrong, in most ways, it is. A big part of why I left my previous faith was the guilt, the shame, the self-hatred. Coming to terms with my sexuality back then, everybody around me told me to pray it away, that I would go to Hell for my sins if I don't repent, all while those same people preach about a loving God.

When I first stepped foot in the Ministry, I was shocked at the overwhelming acceptance that this place radiated. Sexualities and gender identities of all kinds, expressed openly and without judgement. I'll admit, it took me a while to get used to it. Not just the whole unconditional acceptance part, but how open people here are in... other ways.

It's no surprise that the Ministry takes great pride in their sexual nature. Hell, Cardinal Terzo is known to host orgies on the regular. Brothers and Sisters of sin alike will talk of sex so casually, I can hardly have a conversation with my peers without my face flushing in embarrassment. While my old church condemned sex before marriage and preached purity and abstinence, it seems here the more sexually experienced you are, the higher praise and admiration you receive.

But the one thing the Ministry and my old church had in common? Shame. When I was at my old church, you were shamed for a variety of things, though in the ministry, it seems the only shame you receive is for not having sex. When word got out of my inexperience to my fellow Siblings of sin, the giggles and looks they would shoot me as I passed them by in the hallways were similar to how the people at church reacted when I came out. My shame shifted from my sexuality, to my lack of sexuality.

My shame, in a moment of desperation, led me to the chambers of Papa Emeritus II. I felt foolish, asking for assistance with something like this, but I know if anyone could help me with this kind of thing, it's him. Papa Secondo has been known throughout the Ministry for his sexual prowess, and according to some kind Siblings who've been in situations similar to mine, he also happens to be a very good teacher.

Sighing, I knocked on the door, so softly it was practically inaudible. I cringe at myself, fighting the urge to just run away and lock myself in my room. This whole idea was stupid anyway, I thought to myself. It's a wonder how he managed to hear my knocking, but before I could flee from the scene, he answered, towering over me intimidatingly and staring down at me expectantly. I practically have to pick my jaw up off the floor as I get a good look at him, face bare of paints and wearing nothing but a robe, carelessly tied around his waist.

"Brother ______... Can I help you?" He gruffed, sounding almost annoyed, which only made my confidence shrink more. Suddenly, my throat is painfully dry. I try to spit out a proper response, but all that can come out of me are incoherent stutters, unable to bring myself to ask the big question. He exhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just come in."

I step in, nervously fidgeting with my hands, palms disgustingly sweaty. Secondo sits in one of his armchairs, waving his hand as a gesture for me to sit in the one parallel to his. I swallow harshly, obeying his unspoken request. "Drink?" He questions, pouring a glass of wine I didn't even notice he had grabbed. I shake my head no. He shrugs dismissively. "Suit yourself." He hums, swirling around the liquid in his glass before taking a long sip.

"Now, take a deep breath. Clearly whatever is on your mind is important to you, considering it beckoned a meak little thing like you to knock on my door at such a late hour..." He chuckles, but his demeanour reassures he's not laughing at me, which relaxes me a bit. "I am always willing to help out a Sibling in need, but you must tell me what you need first, si?"

I take a deep breath as he suggested, a last-ditch effort to calm my nerves. Here goes nothing. "I... I'm a virgin." I blurted out, practically having to force the words from my throat. Secondos expression remains unfazed. "I can tell." He says blankly. Goddamnit. "Are you asking me to change that, caro?"

"W-well, I... I don't k-know, really-" My face grows red in embarrassment, avoiding eye contact bashfully, which his piercing gaze made significantly difficult. "Then I won't." He states. "But I must ask, Brother _____; if you didn't come here for that reason, then what did you come here for?" I bite my lip, thinking for a moment.

"Truth be told, Papa, I'm not exactly sure what I want..." I let out a groan of frustration. I knew this idea was stupid. "I'm... ashamed. Everyone in the Ministry is so experienced, they all have stories to tell, and I just have... nothing. The other siblings look at me differently, they make fun of me behind my back. I'm tired of just being the virgin. I want to do the things they do, I want to have the experiences that they have-"

"_____." He says my name firmly, cutting me off abruptly. "You should never be ashamed of that sort of thing. Sex is not as important to the Ministry as you may think, caro. There are plenty of virgins here, and plenty others that aren't interested in sex at all. The whole point of embracing sexual freedom is getting to choose whether to have sex or to not, and neither option should warrant any judgement. If any particular siblings are bothering you, tell me now and they will be dealt with, but you must know that shame and embarrassment should never influence any of your decisions, especially not these kinds of decisions. Have I made myself clear?"

I nod, looking down at my feet to avoid tearing up. It felt strange to hear someone tell me I don't need to be ashamed, to reassure me I don't need to change. Strange, but nice. Secondo reached a hand out to rub my shoulder comfortingly. "Look at me, caro." He commanded, but he spoke so tenderly it felt more like a light-hearted suggestion. I did as I was told, lifting my head to meet his kind gaze. Dammit, here comes the waterworks.

"It's not just peer pressure that encouraged me to go to you. I really do want to do this sort of thing. My whole life, it was drilled in my brain that sex of any kind is something to be ashamed of, and completely unthinkable to do with another man. I've had to hide my desires for so long, I don't want to have to do that anymore. I want to do this, I just... I want to start off slow, y'know? And I want you to... to teach me." I admit, my voice breaking weakly as I open up to him. Secondo nodded as I spoke, listening intently. As intimidating as he can be, in this moment I felt as if I could tell him anything.

"What do you have in mind?" He asked. I thought about it for a moment. I couldn't help the blush that crept upon my cheeks when the thought popped up in my head; Something I was always curious about.

"I want to suck your cock." That sentence came out of my mouth as quickly as I thought it. That seemed to get a reaction out of the usually stoic Secondo, his eyes widening in surprise and his lips twitching into a smirk. I almost want to apologize for my boldness, but Secondo spreads his legs in appreciation, rendering me speechless. His robe comes looser, exposing more of his bare body, especially his muscular thighs. Still, it's not exposing the one part of him I'm most excited to see.

"Do you now?" He raises an eyebrow slyly. I practically start to drool as I look down at his lap, noticing the movement under his robe as his cock starts to harden and twitch. "Y-yes, Papa. I just, I- I might need a little help. I'm not exactly sure how..." I trail off, my focus on something else.

"I am more than happy to oblige." Secondo purrs, eyes narrowing and trailing down to my mouth, clouding with desire. "Come here, caro. Let me teach you." He takes a pillow from his armchair to place on the ground for me to kneel on, waving me over to him. With inhuman-like speeds, I plop down on my knees before him, rather ungracefully. Secondo doesn't seem to mind. Finally, he moves his robe out of the way, fully exposing his manhood to me.

I almost regretted coming to him for my first time, because surely that could not be a beginner size. He was at least 9 inches, thick and veiny, there was no way I could fit all of that down my throat, and- wait, is that a fucking Prince Albert? Just looking at him from this angle gets my dick to twitch through my pants, pulling a whimper from my throat. "Take the tip in to start, sweetheart." He tells me, and I do just that.

His tip is hot and heavy in my mouth, aside from the coolness of the metal from his piercing. He groans gutterally at the contact, my tongue involuntarily swirling around it, seeming to already know what to do. "Bravo ragazzo..." He grunts, my pants growing tighter at his words. His hand rests on the back of my head, looking down at me affectionately. "T-take it a little further, will you?" He asks so sweetly, I can't help but grant his wishes.

I gradually take more in my mouth, inch by inch, sucking gently as I make my way down, earning more delicious noises from Secondo. The straining in my pants is nearly impossible to ignore, but I push through for him. I keep going till I hit my gag reflex, not even able to take him halfway. I hum against his cock in disappointment, pulling away with a cough. "Sorry." I murmur awkwardly.

He lifts my chin with a single finger, forcing me to look up at his eyes. "Don't be sorry, caro." He tuts sternly. "You can take more, I know you can. Just relax your throat and let me do the work, hm?" Hesitantly, I agree, eager to please. I trust him enough to know he wouldn't do anything to hurt me or push my boundaries an uncomfortable amount. He gently pushes me back down on his dick, relaxing my throat as much as I can, ready as I'll ever be to let him take control.

He pushes my head down slowly, back to where I was last able to take it. He gives me a moment to prepare myself, before he grips the sides of my head, pulling my head further. I gag harshly a few times, and each time he pauses, allowing myself to get used to the invasion going on in my throat before continuing. He takes his time with me, stretching out my throat with immeasurable patience.

"You're doing so f-fucking well, caro. Such a good boy..." He gruffs. I moan around him happily, from both the praise and the fact I'm now able to take significantly more of him in my mouth. Once I've taken all I'm comfortably able to, he begins to shallowly thrust, in and out. "You're a natural, letting me take your tight, wet throat like this. Cazzo, sei divino..."

His thrusts grow quicker and harder the more confident I get, and it's not long before he's borderline fucking my mouth. I can't help but rub my hardened cock through my pants, an embarrassing wet spot forming from the precum I'm leaking. This is the most aroused I've ever been, that I've ever allowed myself to be, that I curse myself for taking this long to experience the joys and ecstasy of sexual pleasure.

"Sto per venire! Caro mio, c-can I cum in your mouth?" Secondo moans, panting heavily. I whine against his cock, sucking harder in hopes he'll take that as an answer. He does, his eyes rolling back in unabashed pleasure. "Oh, fuck!" He groans, releasing his thick load in the back of my throat. I swallow it all diligently, savoring the salty, somewhat bitter taste that I just know I'll grow addicted to.

I pull my mouth off his cock with an obcene pop, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. "Did I do good, Papa?" I ask, insecure of my ability and eagerly awaiting his response. He laughs, a genuine hearty laugh, something I've never seen him do. I don't know why, but something about it sent a fluttering warmth through my chest, a desire to hear him laugh again and again. That's something to question on another day, though.

"Is that even a question, caro? Satanas, you did wonderfully." Secondo smiles, helping me up off my knees. That's when he notices the bulge in my pants, throbbing painfully. "Oh, poor boy. Would you like some help with that, sweetheart?" He asks. My breath catches in my throat, heat rushing to my face. I nod profusely, my brain too fogged with lust to find the proper words.

He reaches for my zipper, undoing it and swiftly taking my cock out. Before I can react, his mouth is on my manhood in an instant, taking it all down his throat with no effort. I could only hope to one day be as good as sucking dick as he is. It isn't long before I'm cumming down his throat as well, reduced to nothing more than a shaking, whimpering mess. He swallows, grinning mischievously.

"Virgins are always so quick to cum." He teases, packaging my sensitive cock back in my pants. After catching my breath, I shoot him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Papa, for... y'know, all that." I say, struggling to compose myself. He hums, re-tying his robe. "No need to thank me, caro. I'm always willing to help." His voice rumbles, low and comforting.

"Do you think we could... do this again? Maybe teach me more things?" I ask, crossing my fingers in wishful thinking. He grins softly, caressing my cheek with his warm, calloused hand. "I would love to, Brother _____. You can come visit me anytime. I can promise you, you will not find a better teacher." He winks. And with that, I leave his chambers, returning to my own. For once, I'm excited for what the future entails, looking forward to my next meeting with Secondo.

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