The Band Ghost - Blog Posts

My music taste seems to have a common theme here

You can add onto any other bands that dress up too in tags if you want

Working Papas (Mall AU Headcanons)

AU where the emeritus brothers are not papas. Instead, they work in a mall in separate stores. Secondo was originally gonna be a mall cop but I thought it’d be funnier if he worked at a Claire’s.

Primo works at a Bath & Bodywork’s.

He’s a pro at being able to tell what kinds of products you’d like or need just by vibes only.

Can immediately distinguish scents from each other, can tell what a scent is just with one whiff.

He demonstrates a lotion for you, and when your hands touch it’s like it’s meant to be. His hand feels so right in yours.

You swing by often after that, and he always seems to have a new sample for you to try each time— a gift, he says.

When no one is looking he’ll oh so gently hold your hand and press a soft kiss to the back of it.

Secondo works at a Claire’s.

He’s the manager and he hates it.

God to honest tried to get himself fired but only ended up being promoted— Terzo makes fun of him for it all the time and it drives him nuts.

He has a soft spot for children, but unfortunately the mothers that shop there are horrendous.

Spends all his breaks smoking in the back and taking shots from a water bottle of straight vodka.

Okay, maybe the job isn’t so bad— because he meets you. You just like to look at the cute hair accessories and earrings, you didn’t expect for a huge scary Italian man to ask you if you needed assistance.

He actually recommends a few items and you beam when he shows you one that you absolutely adore.

Fuck, you’re adorable when you smile. Yeah, okay. Maybe the job isn’t too bad.

Terzo works at a Sephora or Ulta.

Everyone’s favorite makeup artist; can sell almost any product with enough sweet talk and flirting.

He’s a popular amongst customers and there’s almost always a line for his consultation.

There’s always at least one co-worker who has a crush on him— and you are no exception.

You intrigue him with your wit and humor and how much you tease him back.

The two of you end up making out in front of the Claire’s during break much to Secondo’s disgust.

Yes, you get lots of good deals on makeup and products from him.

Copia works at one of those weeby anime/k-pop stores.

One of those people who have only seen or heard of Naruto and One Piece. If you ask him what k-pop band he likes, he’s only heard of BTS.

Get’s super addicted to pocky after the first time he tries it— it’s very accessible to him because it’s always in stock. He buys a pack or two before going home after each shift. His brothers joke that it’s like a bad smoking habit.

You can always find him re-arranging the stuffed animals, he likes to rotate them so they get turns to sit together and chat. He tells you this when you ask one day and you find it adorable and charming. He looks a little embarrassed but you tell him it’s cute and he gets flustered.

You think it would be funny so you when you confess to Copia, you tell him you have the doki-dokis and he just looks at you all confused and makes Copia Noises as he tries to decipher your meaning. In the end you sigh out: “it means I like you, you idiot.”

He kisses you and Sakura Kiss from Ouran High School Host Club starts playing and you make eye contact with one of his co-workers who ‘eeps’ and ducks behind the counter. “KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE” begins to blast.

Fully obsessed with the concept of Copia. He's over fifty years old. He's a gamer. His arrival coincides with the death of every previous Papa like he's the bringer of the bubonic plague. He rides little tricycles around the Ministry. He's apparently a professional dancer as well as being the vocalist for a metal band but has a Charisma of 8. He's pathetic (canon). He's literally the Satanic Pope. He loves his mom. He's kind of a bitch. He wears tracksuits with dress shoes. Tobias hates him but is chronically incapable of killing him off because he serves so much cunt. I really can't decide if I want to be this man or be inside him

missing him hours :(

The Hunter’s Blood Moon

Prologue

I gripped the very edge of the stage, unable to wipe the beaming grin off my slightly-sweaty face, my chest heaving as the audience and I belted out the lyrics to ‘Cirice.’ Hearing sensitivity be damned, I would have gladly gone deaf if it meant I got the closest spot to the stage—the closest spot to him—as possible. I looked left to right, still no security guards to be seen, and yet nobody took the opportunity to climb onto the stage and join the performance, especially when he, Papa Emeritus III, was the lead vocalist. My heels bounced up and down with each boom of Pebble’s drums, the heavy shredding of Omega and Alpha on their respective guitars—it was still difficult to tell which Ghoul was which without their instruments—but my eyes stayed completely focused on the main lead himself.

I had no idea what the hell happened, but when Papa Emeritus II disappeared from Ghost and Papa III took over, it was like a switch just flipped on inside me. Seeing Secondo in his full Papa regalia? Awesome, and kind of funny considering his resemblance to a certain canine-named American singer; he’s nicknamed Mr. Worldwide for a reason. But seeing Terzo? With his raven-black hair, his classy black coat, and his white button-down? My heart had never fluttered so fast before, I had never squealed so loudly or flapped my hands so hard whenever photos and videos of him cropped up online or on the news, and even though I had wanted to see Ghost live since ninth grade, as soon as I graduated with my two-year film degree and got my first job at a local bookstore, my motivation cranked up to an eleven as soon as I found out that they—he—would play live in my town.

Terzo had just become my newest celebrity crush.

I didn’t give a single shit about any of the concert recordings I’d seen on YouTube anymore, nothing could have compared to hearing him in person. Whenever he held his microphone and sang, from ‘Year Zero’ to ‘Mummy Dust’—especially ‘Mummy Dust’; fuck, I’ll never get his raw sexual energy during that song out of my head—the sheer amount of confidence radiating from him had me falling head-over-heels, my heart beating so fast I thought I might pass out, my cheeks heating up so much to the point where I probably looked like a tomato or a seedless strawberry. And judging by the comments I’d seen other fans post on the Internet, I wasn’t the only one having a reaction like that.

Some very eager fans shoved past me and squealed right in my ear when Terzo swept past his boyfriend Omega, and the reason why clicked in my head as soon as the music drastically stopped, his voice lowered to a near-whisper, and his gorgeous mismatched eyes scanned the entire front row of the crowd. My eyes widened, and I couldn’t stop the short scream that tore from my throat, my right hand among others reaching past the edge of the stage as the audience either screamed for Papa or belted out the important lines for that part of the song.

A lucky fan was about to get Cirice’d.

My heart practically stopped as soon as Terzo’s gaze landed on the rabid fans around me, his lips curling into a devious smirk, making my cheeks burn and sending the women surrounding me into an absolute frenzy. The anxious lump immediately grew in my chest, my knees trembled, and my shyness kicked in as I slowly drew my hand away from the stage. There were already so many hands reaching for him, I didn’t think he would notice one missing. Terzo glanced at each frothing member of his congregation, strolling up and down; I’m pretty sure some ‘Wet Floor’ signs would be put around the place once the area got cleared out, I’d have to keep my eyes on the ground just to be sure I don’t slip and fall and potentially break my neck.

He started to approach a fan to my left…

And stopped.

Right in front of me.

I felt my pulse begin racing throughout my entire body, the flush on my cheeks reaching down to the back of my neck as the audience members next to me kept their hands towards Terzo. He looked down, directly at my withdrawn hand as I held it against my chest.

No.

No, this wasn’t happening.

He looked back up at me…

…got down on his left knee…

…held out his hand…

…and his smile easily put an angel’s to shame.

Holy fuck.

I’m getting Cirice’d.

I’m getting Cirice’d.

I’M GETTING CIRICE’D!!!

Before I knew it, my fingertips met the soft fabric of Terzo’s gloved palm, and his fingers curled around mine, his thumb brushing the back of my hand as he tugged me closer to him. While my brain short-circuited and the ball of shyness threatened to explode in my chest, my other hand tried and failed to cover up and cool down the blush on my left cheek. My head was on the verge of overheating, but an airiness settled itself along with the heat as I looked up at Terzo. He knelt right in front of me, my hand in his as the Ghouls started playing again, his voice so clear and pretty as he sang the main chorus of the song. The corners of my mouth curled into a timid smile, and I could only look away for a few seconds before my eyes found his again, the anxiety wearing down and changing into a bubbly, giddy sort of shyness with a ton of suppressed excitement just short of bursting. My very first Ghost ritual, and I got to hold hands with Papa Emeritus III.

I couldn’t wait to gush about it to Elijah and Allison.

He pulled me closer, my stomach beginning to press against the edge of the stage, and I was more than certain that he, the Ghouls, and the audience could see the imaginary pink and red cartoon hearts floating around my head and popping like bubbles. Anticipation fluttered in my chest, and just when I thought things couldn’t get any better than they were right now, Terzo set his microphone down next to him, his voice still perfectly clear as day, and I felt a legitimate shiver—an actual honest-to-God shiver—run down my spine as he gently tilted my chin up with his other hand, like something straight out of a romance novel. His thumb brushed against my bottom lip, and I swear the ground almost disappeared beneath my feet, my breathing grew slightly heavier, and the noisy crowd behind me faded away into simple background noise.

Blood thrummed in my ears. Adrenaline rushed through me. My toes curled inside my shoes, the muscles in my shoulders ached the longer I tensed them, but I stayed rooted to my spot.

“…s… im…!”

What…?

“Ki… im…!”

The hell were they saying?

“Kiss him!!”

Oh.

OH.

Okay, I definitely did not hear that right. There was absolutely no way in hell that the entire audience started chanting “Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him!” nonstop, their screams loud enough to make the entire arena tremble. I clutched the fabric of my pants, my knuckles no doubt turning white, the muscles in my fingers twitching with how hard I was straining them. Most of my brain yelled at me not to do it, not to risk getting banned from another Ghost concert for life; so I just stood there, willing my body not to pass out from how close Terzo was, how the fabric of his gloved palms fueled the steaming blush on my cheeks and sent shivers down my back, how his fingers brushed against the…

…the hollow of my…

…my throat…

His eyes…

…his mysterious white eye that gleamed under the harsh stage lights…

…the way his furrowed brows enhanced his gaze to create the most beautiful pair of ‘fuck me’ eyes I’d ever seen…

…the only ones I’d ever…

And then it happened.

It finally happened.

A pair of warm paint-covered lips pressed against mine, stray locks of raven hair traced feather-light touches against my temples. My fingers clutched the left collar of Terzo’s coat as my knees threatened to buckle under my weight. The butterflies immediately erupted from my stomach and spread throughout the rest of my body. I couldn’t tell my own thundering heartbeat from the deafening roar of the crowd while the last few minutes of ‘Cirice’ had now become simple background noise. His fingers gently threaded through my hair, his thumb brushing over my knuckles as he tightened his grip on my hand. The steaming rosy blush on my cheeks spread down to my neck, my eyes fluttered to a close, and my heart threatened to leap out of my chest.

It finally happened.

I just had my first kiss.

-

My breaths were deep and slow as my eyes fluttered open, the Christmasy smell of fresh pine flowing through my nose as the gentle hum of the A/C met my ears. The thinnest rays of sunlight were just beginning to stream through my window, casting slanted orange-yellow patterns and shapes on the walls; a strand of hair stuck to my left eye, but at least I didn’t get a flash-bang straight to the face. I turned onto my back and sluggishly raised my left hand up, brushing my fingers against my dry and chapped lips. After making a quick mental note to apply lip balm later—Mom would definitely get on my ass about it—I clenched the blanket and threw my head back against the pillow, glaring at the ceiling like it owed me money and was too lazy to pay me back even a dollar. My cheeks puffed out as I added a childish pout to my little staring contest with the drywall or whatever it was above my head. I didn’t have a doubt that grabbing my pillow and punching it would have woken up my parents and my brother in the next room over, so I just sat there and pulled the blanket over my face, a warm flush coloring my cheeks as I willed the bed to swallow me whole and let me wallow in my own disappointment.

I huffed, crossing my arms. I should have known it was too good to be true. Kissing Terzo immediately after getting Cirice’d? I mean, come on. No way. I would give all the money in my bank account for that—consensually, of course, I’m not a total creep—but the chances of a kiss on the lips during that part of the song are practically zero. He probably has a girlfriend, or boyfriend, or gender-non-confirming date friend or something; if I were his partner—God, I wish—I’d be pretty pissed if he made out with every fan he Cirice’d. Besides, security would have definitely stopped that from happening.

A girl can dream, though.

Ghost Masterlist

Fanfics

—The Hunter’s Blood Moon—

Summary: Daniella is just your average college graduate, with a two-year film degree, a simple shift at her local bookstore, and a large friend group of two. On her graduation trip to Sweden, not only does she meet new faces and try new things, but a nighttime run-in with some fallen angels helps her discover innate magical powers even she was not aware of. And when some very-familiar-looking skeleton-faced popes show up to provide their own assistance, it’s up to Daniella to decide whether she wants to go back to her old life or stay in the Satanic Ministry of Ghost and learn the ways of their Dark God.

Chapter List (ongoing)

Prologue

Chapter 1 (in progress)

no mom you don’t understand, that autistic geriatric satanic pope is my soulmate

Family gathering y’all

This man has absolutely no right to be this pretty 😩

He is

He’s the shining and the light without whom I cannot see

Some behind the scenes of THAT moment

New blood

Available in my shop!

🥲💜still thinkin about Him💜🥲

Te lo meriti! (CopiaxReader)

Summary: A birthday present for my dearest @nocturnal-birb I did my best and hope you like it. This also goes out to all you folks who feel this way and need a Papa’s support and reassurance.

Copia x Reader || Papa Emeritus iv x Reader || Fluff || Comfort Fic || Established Relationship || Poorly Translated Italian || WC: 1716

You stand before Copia’s door with a manilla folder in hand full of official documents for him to sign off on. There’s a few about his next sermon, some to do with the next tour, and notices from the clergy.

You gently rapped your knuckles against his door, loud enough to get his attention while your other hand brushes invisible dust off your habit and straightens the small amount of wrinkles. You wish you had more time to tidy up. Your hair was being very uncooperative today and you had been in such a rush this morning that you had forgone makeup.

You hoped he wouldn’t mind that you didn’t look your best. However, knowing Copia, it’s not because of your makeup that he’s always staring at your face with his dopey lovesick eyes. You smile at imagining him getting distracted again in the midst of paperwork coercing you that neither of you get any work done.

Keep reading

i got inspired by @copias-girl to catch a cardinal fanfic and decided to draw copia in his swimsuit, it suits him so well😭😭

lil bonus

Aether and Phantom headcanon

Phantom is Aether's little brother.

He always adored his big bro, so when Aether was summoned to play for Ghost, he was absolutely thrilled to see his brother on the stage! He was and will always be his biggest fan. He even started to play instruments himself to be more like his big brother.

He learned all the Ghost songs just to impress Aether. And his brother was so proud he refused to stop hugging him! It was just so cute of him to learn all that just for his brother!

And then, as Aether was getting ready for the Re-Imperatour, Phantom mentioned something about how cool it would be if he could be in a band as well. And so Aether had an idea. After a surprisingly serious discussion with Papa, he got Phantom to replace him as the rhythm guitarist for the band.

Does Aether miss messing around on stage? Yes, absolutely. But it's all totally worth it so see how happy and excited his little brother is to perform.

You could say that tables have turned for them, because now it's Aether who is his brother's biggest fan. ♡

~

Taglist: @mybotanicaldemise @copias-fluffy-asscheeks (send an ask if you'd like to be added! read the pinned post before asking!)

Agnellino

|Ghost|

Terzo/Papa Emeritus III x Fem!reader

Summery: You hoped the church wouldn’t find out about your little lie upon joining them…but evidently your papa is smarter than you think.

Warnings: nsfw, power imbalance, light body worship (f receiving), fingering, low-key manipulation…Terzo being a horny man.

Notes: this is a commission for @ethanhoewke and I do NOT speak Italian so if anything is wrong here it’s not my fault. I took creative liberty and called the church “Satanae Ecclesiae”.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Nighttime was when you felt most vulnerable.

You were selfconsious when the sun disappeared behind the horizon.

It wasn’t that you were just shy, however. It was that you felt out of place…overly observed and scrutinized.

Stared at.

Picked apart.

It didn’t matter that you wore the same habit as every other Sister of Sin or that you recited your nightly prayers in any incorrect manner- in fact you recited them better than most.

It was that you were a latest addition to the flock.

You were new.

And new was interesting.

The edges of the grucifix clutched in your hand nearly began to draw blood from how tightly you grasped it. Your eyes grew glassy with tears that wouldn’t fall as you refused to blink; the sight before you too extraordinary to miss.

Rituals were in and of themselves a sight to behold, regardless of the papa delivering it, but since you had joined the Satanae Ecclesiae when you did, you had the sublime pleasure of being guided by Papa Emeritus III…or Terzo as he insisted most everyone call him. He was dramatic and perverted and commanding- a fair contrast, you had been told, to his predecessors. There were very few reserved or modest bones in his body.

As the man stood upon his pulpit and spoke down to you and your fellow brothers and sisters, his words seemed to muffle in your ears, though you still absorbed them. It was as if he was communicating to you on another plane of being. Like a sixth sense. You wondered if that was how your fellow children of sin felt, or if you were alone in your rapture.

“…bow your heads now my children, and let your eyes fall to the stone beneath your feet, for it is what lay beneath them that will be your forever home once you are freed from your life here. You are cursed and damned, may Satan devour your souls…Nema.” His voice echoed in the large stone hall, and following his words, you all bowed your heads, and the soft murmur of “Nema.” rippled around you.

You finally sucked in a deep breath that you had been meaning to for an hour, but simply hadn’t been able to lest you make a noise in the silent room. The last thing you wanted were more eyes on you. You had made a point of remaining as anonymous as possible ever since you had been initiated during your first ritual.

That night, you had been told to stand before the pulpit, and accept the ceremonial welcoming from your papa, just as everyone else had. However, as soon as he had knelt down to you, and extended his hand with a flick of his wrist for you to take, your mind had gone blank. Your papa had taken your hand, and pulled you to the edge of the pulpit where he leaned over to you, drawing you in as close as you could before your ribs ached from being pressed against the wood. Those mismatched eyes of his had bored into your soul and mind. You didn’t even remember reciting your vows, but evidently you had done well as the next thing you had known you were being pulled in for hugs and kisses to your cheeks from various children of sin.

They had welcomed you into their home with open arms, and you hadn’t looked back. But since then, you had indeed been the talk of the compound.

The sisters nearest to you began to shuffle out, or talk amongst themselves.

It seemed, however, that you had forgotten to lower your gaze from your papa; unfortunately for you, once you did in fact realize your error, it was too late. Papa continued to gaze across the crowd and seeing as you were one of the only faces turned up to him, he caught your stare quickly. You felt as if you had been gripped by his eyes alone; he gazed into your very soul like he knew it was fresh…young…not yet entirely sinful.

He smirked.

Actually smirked.

You felt a shiver run down your spine- you couldn’t look away. It was…it was almost as if he could tell you were still untouched.

But how could he know?

You had told them otherwise…it wasn’t as if he could find out. Your heart began to race at the idea of him knowing that you had lied…

The seats around you began to empty, and you took the movement around you as your escape. It made your chest ache to look away, but the longer you waited the harder it would have been.

The sound of shoes on the stone floors reverberated around the halls, as did the chatter- both lively gossip and sleepy grumbles. As you went to turn down your wing to reach your room, a hand gripped your shoulder and halted you.

“Pardon me sister.”

You turned and saw one of the senior sisters standing before you, a straight stare on her face. You wondered how they showed such little emotion sometimes…you knew that they were indeed capable of a great deal of feeling- you had seen them laugh and smile many times…but there came times where they looked like statues.

“Good evening, sister…can I help?” You replied, hands clasped neatly in front of you.

Your elder nodded.

“His Unholiness has requested your presence imminently.” She said, gesturing behind her, back through the dark corridors.

You felt all blood drain from your face.

Had you done something wrong? Cursed hell below…did he take offence to your staring? We’re not completing your daily duties correctly? Was there something wrong with your initiation-

You froze.

He knew.

When you had joined the welcoming arms of Satanae Ecclesiae, they had asked you whether or not you had been…taken. “Fucked” they had said to be precise. You had nearly choked, and to save your embarrassment, you had managed a “Yes.” Regardless of the lie.

That “Yes” had been one of the biggest lies that you had ever told. Hell, you barely even knew how to touch yourself let along be touched by someone.

“Sister y/n?” The elder asked.

You snapped out of your daze and stared back at her dumbly.

“I asked if you needed me to show you the way to his chambers.” She must have asked a few times to sound that cross.

You quickly shook your head. You knew where he was- you had walked past his door many a time, often blushing from the noises you would hear from behind the door- sometimes his voice, sometimes not. It was understood that Papa took care of his children, and he had his favourites. Said favoured brothers and sisters would…receive special attention from him. Not that you had gotten any sort of attention, and while you grew jealous from the stories you heard, you knew you wouldn’t know what to do even if you…if he…

You blushed.

You wouldn’t even know what to do if they found out your little secret…and now here you were. In that exact situation.

“I-I know where I’m going.” You whispered.

It seemed you stayed rooted to the spot a moment too long as the sister gave you an expectant look.

“Oh! Thank you. I’ll- Thank you sister. Goodnight.” You lowered your head and moved past her as a sign of respect, and scurried off. As soon as you were back in the main hall that split the compound into its various wings, you felt a cold sweat break out on your skin, and a tremor in your hands.

Only a few brothers and sisters passed by you, sending you simple greetings as their eyes devoured you. Then as their voices and footsteps faded away, all you were left with were the constant echoes of the souls who refused to leave the church- even after passing from this world to the next, decades or centuries ago; those who lurked in the shadows and sang to those who would listen…tempting them to join them in the afterlife.

Their mournful voices were addicting, and while it scared some, you found an odd comfort in them- even found yourself speaking to them. They kept you company as you began down the corridor leading to the Emeritus wing. Just as it’s name suggested, every Papa -past and present- lived there. The stones were a beautiful onyx, and gold torches lined the walls, as did various tapestries. It was considered an honour to walk down that hall, and should be treated as an act of worship.

The further you went, the less you could hear as your mind spun. If it weren’t for sheer muscle memory, you would have missed the door to Papa’s chambers. Indeed, due to your youth and desire to please,you had been entrusted with the job of second messenger between Papa II and Sister Imperator- a result of which had you frequenting that very wing daily.

You had grown fairly comfortable after the first two months, though the butterflies never seemed to fully settle when you passed that particular door that led to the current papas chambers.

You stood outside the imposing, ornate door, and your arms felt too heavy to lift and knock on the wood. Your brow was scrunched in thought and worry as you wondered what life might hold for you if they did indeed remove you from the church…where would you go? What would you do?

Your head swam helplessly, and once you finally found your strength to knock, there was a gentle “Enter.” before your knuckles could even touch the wood.

Somehow him being aware of your presence before even hearing or seeing you terrified you more.

If he did know your secret…would you be cast out? Would you be deemed too pure?

Not wanting to keep him longer than you had, you turned the knob, and pushed on the door. The soft glow emanating from hundreds of red, melting candles enveloped you immediately, and you took a moment to gaze around the lush room. A stark contrast to your simple chamber. There were plush carpets, and beautifully woven tapestries on the walls, along with magnificent paintings. Bookshelves stuffed, and vases of black roses.

“Good evening, young sister, you found you way easily I see.”

You slowly looked to your right where a large desk sat infront of a circular window. Well, it wasn’t the desk that you were staring at- it was the man sat at it. Papa Emeritus III, still donning his painted face, tousled hair and white gloves. His black jacket was nowhere to be seen, and his white vest was unbuttoned to show his shirt beneath it- the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had his feet propped up on the top of the desk, and you noticed how much his shoes shined.

He spoke to you, idiot.

“Yes, Papa…Thank you. I was told you required my presence, your unholiness…is there someth-“

“Terzo.” He said simply, a slight roll to his “R”.

You blinked and forgot anything you were saying. “I’m sorry?” You asked, taking a few steps inside as the door closed.

“You and I are alone, little one. You will call me Terzo, yes?” He removed his feet from his desk and leaned forward onto his elbows, giving you his complete, undivided attention. His gaze was even heavier with no crowd to disappear into.

You could already feel a blush creep up from under your habit. “Yes Pa- Terzo.” You managed. You would be lying if you said this was your first time murmuring husband name; although most of the time it was you alone with your thoughts in your chambers when you said it…you nightgown bunched up around your hips and your hand between your thighs-

He smiled, and you nearly buckled at the sight of it. “Good! Now come. Sit. You and I have somethings to discuss.”

You nodded and quickly made you way to the chair in front of the desk, but just as you were about to take a seat, you heard him tut you.

“Ah, ah…” he patted his lap and held his hand out for you, “Here will do.”

For the third time that night, you were rooted to your spot. Immobile. Your eyes flicked to his lap, and the way his legs spread. You would have backed away if it weren’t for his calm face and steady gaze inviting you closer. It was as if his energy alone or some invisible force was beckoning you to him.

You wordlessly walked around the desk, and slowly lowered yourself to perch on his thigh. You would be lying if you said it didn’t feel nice.

“There’s a good girl…now, I hate doing these sorts of things…far too dull for me, but evidently it needs to be done…” he half murmured to himself, running his hand through his hair. You absentmindedly wondered what he used in it. But as soon as the meaning of his words registered in your head, you could feel tears start to well in your eyes, and a sob build in your throat.

This was it.

They were going to send you away, “Are you going t-to punish me?” You whimpered.

Terzo snapped his gaze to you and barked out a laugh; upon seeing your expression however, he schooled his face and thought for a moment. For the right words to comfort you. “I wouldn’t say that, no…I certainly hope you don’t see it as punishment.” His voice rumbled in his chest, and his breath fanned across your face.

You looked away from him, gripping the skirt of your habit, “But you’re going to send me away aren’t you?”

He was silent for a long minute. You assumed it was him thinking of a way to soften the blow, but then he gently turned your face to his, and he spoke so softly. “La mia dolce ragazza…what are you speaking of?” He asked.

You slowly rose your eyes up to meet his. What you were met with was a patient confusion, and you were reminded of the father figure position he held to you and your fellow children of sin.

“I lied.” You whispered, trying to ignore how close he was.

Terzo continued to stare until he blinked and looked away with a nod.

He sighed. “You lied to us…yes.” He nodded again as if to confirm your statement, but somehow the purse of his lips was lacking the seriousness you had expected for such a statement.

A feather-light touch to your hip made you jump. His hand came to settle there, respectfully but still somewhere that could be considered taboo . Then everything hit you all at once. You were in Papa’s chambers…sat in his lap, with his hand on your hip and his breath against your cheek and you could smell him so clearly…Satan he smelled good-

“But…” he sighed, “You know I like to think I am a fair papa…” he looked at you again, and this time his arm came to rest around your waist, cradling you. “Would you like to stay?” He asked.

Your eyes went wide. “Very much.”

“Yes?” He asked, his hand creeping back down to your hip; his grip a little less gentlemanly. Terzo’s touch, however, was so gentle you didn’t even notice him hiking your dress up; even as the cool air snaked up your ankles and calves.

“Please.” You breathed, hoping he’d see how badly you wished to stay.

Terzo’s chest began to rise and fall quicker.

“I think we are both very well aware that something needs to change, hm?” His hand was now under your skirt, at the soft crease between your thigh and your hip, gloved thumb stroking your skin.

It was then, that you finally realised that you were no longer the picture of sinful modesty.

“P-papa-?” You whispered, suddenly hyper aware of how he had been dragging you closer to him on his lap. Indeed, when you had originally taken your seat on him, you had begun on his knee, and he now had you firmly tucked into his hip- your rear against his groin.

Tsk. He clicked his tongue.

Your eyes widened at your mistake, “Ter-Terzo, forgive me.” You corrected yourself, “I’m…what are you-“ you couldn’t find the right words. You expected yourself to awaken at any moment- that this was all just another one of your dreams where you’d awaken with an ache between your thighs where you wished his head would be.

“You haven’t noticed have you?” He cooed.

There was nothing you could do but stare at him, and Terzo was more than happy to elaborate.

“You think I haven’t been craving to touch you since you lied so clearly that first day? You thought I didn’t notice?” His breath was against your neck, smoothing against your skin, down under your collar.

“I-I don’t-“ you couldn’t think as his hand dipped completely under your skirt and over your navel, just skimming the top of your panties; his hands steady as ever, as if he had no idea what he did to you.

“You don’t? Shame. You got me fucking hard tonight, you know that?…La mia bella ragazza.” His voice lowered into a husky rasp that sent shivers up and down your spine. “I knew you lied. I knew no one had been given the pleasure of having you…I could almost taste you…” his hands wandered even more, the other now pulling your habit to slip it inside and palm your breast, his gloved fingers pinching your nipple. “Will you let me have you, la mia piccola?”

Your breathing came in quick gasps and your chest rose and fell rapidly; every inch of your skin was on fire.

Who were you to say no to your papa?

You nodded, words escaping you.

Terzo clicked his tongue again, “No no no no, mia bella…tell your papa.”

He wanted to hear you. A simple nod would not suffice when he desired the joy of hearing your pathetic little voice telling him you were his to have.

But then he heard that little intake of breath, and before you even spoke he knew you were weakened for him.

“Take-take me papa…” you whispered.

Those words alone were nearly enough to break the great Terzo apart…but somehow he remained whole. Whole and completely unable to restrain himself.

“Satana aiutami…” he purred before his lips were on yours and his hand under your skirt was dipping under your panties. You could taste the makeup he still wore, and wine on his tongue but they only made you dizzier; melting even further into his touch.Something that evidently pleased him greatly.

His hand drew gentle circles around your clit, but after only a moment he pulled away; an involuntary mewl left you.

He chuckled and kissed your hair. You were already so helplessly needy for him.

Then, he nodded to something just past your face, and when you followed his gaze, you were met with his gloved hand, fingers now by your mouth. You looked from him to the glove, and after a moment, you leaned forward and took the tip of the index finger into your mouth and pulled. The fabric came clean off, but you kept it in your mouth.

Terzo’s lips parted and his eyes became heavy as he watched his pristine glove dampen between your lips. You thought he might kiss you again, but instead he ripped the fabric from your mouth and replaced it with two of his fingers, place on the top of your tongue like an offering. He could have just taken what he wanted but instead he watched you intently. Waiting.

You tentatively ran your tongue along them, and watched your papa for any guidance, but all he could offer was a “Sì…that’s it.”

His makeup was smudged around his mouth, and his tongue looked as though it might being to lap at you, but he restrained himself as you began to suckle and lick at his long fingers. Terzo’a chest began to rise and fall quicker and quicker until he was nearly panting at the sight of you. Until it was too much. “Cosa mi stai facendo, ragazzina?” He asked with no desire for an answer.

He ripped his hand from your mouth and covered it with his lips again as his large hands groped at the fabric of your habit; pulling and tugging at it until the skirt was completely up around your hips and you were bare to him. You instinctively wished to cover yourself, but you fought to stay good for him- he wanted you bare and that was what you would be.

“Forgive me, piccola bellezza…Ti prego, lascia che ti tocchi!” He panted against your tongue. Your head was so dizzy you didn’t even care what he was saying…he could have asked to drink your blood and you would have been helpless to say no. So you nodded.

The next thing you felt were his hands on your hips. One running across your stomach then the other dipped down your navel.

“Y-you’re not goi-ng to fu- um- ah!” You could barely form words as his ungloved hand crept to the edge of your panties again and snapped the elastic before rubbing down your mound over your clit to your slit where he dipped his finger over the fabric to toy with you a little more.

“Oh I will fuck you mi amor…but you know my brothers? They have been taunting me…telling me I might never taste you…and I think I will do just that…very unhurriedly…and very thoroughly.” He worked his fingers past the hem of your panties until he found your bare bundle of nerves, and began to stroke it so gently you almost wondered if it was happening at all.

His free hand came up your torso to your neck where he held your head to the side easier; his lips coming back to yours in a slow but biting kiss. His teeth nipped and he sucked at your tongue like it was an offering from Satan himself.Terzo hooked your knees over his, giving complete control over the spread of your thighs to him.

By the time your papa had finished with your clit, your hips were bucking as if you were coursing with electricity with each pet and touch. His hot breath fanned over your cheeks as his concentration began to slip from your mouth down to between your legs.

Terzo eased his finger down from your clit to the slick slit that was begging for his touch. You clenched your thighs automatically at the foreign feeling, but his legs stopped them. “Ah ah…you’re doing so well, mia dolce piccola vergine…so well for your papa.” Terzo’s breathless voice sent a shiver down your spine. His excitement was as evident in his tone as it was against your backside, pressing into you.

He stroked through your wet lips, slightly dipping in before retreating again- enjoying torturing you. And oh your sounds made it all worth it. Whining, whimpering, your needy little pleas; your hands gripping his arms as they held you and caged you.

Again and again he denied you- savouring the fact that he would be the first person to toy with you as such. He hoped he would be the last as well…though with his brothers and that cardinal who loved rats, he knew…it was unlikely he would be able to keep you to himself.

“T-Terzo pl-please- ah….” You cried, tears shining in your eyes as your body pulsed with need. You hadn’t even cum yet and you were nearly limp from arousal. Your thighs twitched with every breath of his on your skin. After so long of wanting exactly this, you were finally there and couldn’t even find the words to express what an array of passionate emotions you were feeling.

Until finally, he relented, and slipped his long finger inside you. There was a moment where all time seemed to stop as his finger filled you. It was thick, and he immediately seemed to find that spot inside you that had you gasping for air. He bullied it with the pad of his finger, over and over again he stroked it, adding a second finger to the sweet torture.

It didn’t take long before you were stalking your head. “N-no please it-it’s too much!” You managed to get out in a rush as a hot coil began to twist and turn in your guts; getting tighter and tighter until you were crying out for mercy, to which you recieved a low, pleased chuckle from the man behind you.

“Are you going to cum?” He cooed.

Your eyes drooped and your lips parted, “I-I don’t- I - ah…I’m n-not su-“ your own high pitched whine interrupted your admission.

He tsked you. “My poor sweet thing…you are going to cum…that’s what it feels like, precious. Just do as I say, yes?” His voice was a purr in your ear. You trusted him. This was your papa…and he would take cared of you.~

You nodded helplessly, knowing you couldn’t do anything but that.

“I’m going to count down for you. You will count with me, yes?” Terzo crooked his fingers inside you and your vision began to go starry.

You nodded again. “Y-ah! Yes!”

“Good…10.” He began.

“10.” You said.

“9…” He began to strike you more deliberately, and you repeated the number; albeit very shakily.

“8.” He murmured, steadily fingering you in and out, not wanting to rush a single moment.

“7.” Trying to remember the number he had just said was difficult, but again you managed to whimper out the number.

“6….you can do it.” His grip around your waist was growing tighter, and you briefly wondered if he might crush you.

“5.” Halfway there and you felt as if you were holding on for dear life. You couldn’t even form words any longer, and thus resorted to tapping your finger five times on his forearm.

“4.” His voice was getting rougher with each second.

“3…” You knew you were close. Your legs began to shake and your moans refused to calm.

“2……” Terzo licked a long stripe up your neck, all the way to your ear.

“1.” You both said one in unison and it was as if he could play your body like an instrument; the next moment your papa was holding you like a lifeline. It was all too much for you mind and body alike, and you had not choice but to come apart in his arms.

“Ahhh there you go…well done.” He praised you, slowing his movements down to stroke you through your orgasm- the first of many. The sheer thought alone had him nearly bouncing with excitement. He would be the one to make you feel so perfectly.

He stilled his hand inside you, your gently little sobs were enough to tell him you were finished and overstimulated.

By the time Terzo was done with you, you had asleep in his bed instead of retiring to your chambers like you were supposed to. Not that Terzo minded, in fact he was considering keeping you there permanently for his own enjoyment.

His sweet little pet.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Okay-okay-okay. Just listen to me...

Papa Secondo continues to fuck you, even after his next orgasm. He himself has already lost count, of how many times he has finished, he has even stopped counting your orgasms. He's already in pain, he's already empty, but he keeps hammering into you, like a frenzy. He may have a heart attack from such overstimulation, but he does not stop. He can almost not even see you under him, there are only sharp, white sensations in front of his eyes, but he remembers, how beautiful you are. The blood is throbbing loudly into ears, but your sweet moans, dear cry, are also audible, albeit muffled. Secondo has nothing to cum with, but he continues to push into you. It hurts, but it's so good.

Everyone should know, that you are his. That the child in your womb is his. And if it doesn't work out today, you have a lot of time ahead.

You can't do this to me at 4AM. This is illegal.

Papa Secondo is getting absolutely target locked onto you after popping a pill. He thought to himself, 'Surely this thing Primo made isn't that big a deal?' and now he's got your hips in a vice and in a full nelson as he gives sloppy and uneven thrusts with his hips.

Fuck. Yeah. I can work this.

If It Lasts For More Than Two Hours (Secondo x Reader)

Secondo x Reader, Papa Emeritus II x Reader, Creampie, Marathon Sex.

It's another negative. The both of you had eagerly waited in the bathroom for the results, and the third time is the charm, but it still comes out negative. You were frustrated. You told him that you were starting to feel like a failure, as both his wife and his Prime Mover, but he quickly dashed away those insecurities with a hug and sweet kiss.

"Just mean we need to keep trying, mia tesoro."

He goes to Primo because, of course, he does. His father figure brother was his go-to when asking for a damned miracle.

Primo had hummed and smiled at him before fishing through his apocathary cabinet and pulling out a small bottle of hand pressed pills.

"Take one of these before. If this doesn't knock her up, I don't know what will."

And he waits for the mood. A full moon and lavish dinner, and he has you back into your shared room, leading butterfly kisses down your neck. He had subtly taken the pill during dinner, a sour thing that left fur on his tongue, and now... now he was starting to feel hot. There was a bubbly fizz in his loins, and his dick very quickly stood erect, he could feel his heart beating through his cock as the rush of blood had it painfully pressing against the seam of his jeans, yet with every shift it brought sparks of pleasure.

You didn't know about the medicine. Too lost in his soft touches as he guides you out of your clothes.

Then he gets on his knees, pulls at your labia with his thumbs, and gets to work. The man pops his jaw with how wide he opens his mouth to encompass your quim. Kissing your pussy until you were a wet and begging mess. Then he shoves in his tongue. He flexes it. Corkscrews it. Closes his mouth around your entrance and sucks, causes sounds so utterly obscene. His thumbs pry your lips apart so he can all the more devour you.

He wrangles your thighs around his head. Lips work sloppily over your pussy as he lashes his tongue relentlessly. He sets a speed record for how quickly he gets you to come. Then he licks it all up. Every. Last. Drop. Eating you out like tonguing the cream out of a snack cake. You squirmed, holding onto his ears as you moaned loud enough to reach across and wake the whole damn Abbey, shuddering like you had caught a cold and stood in Arctic winds.

Then he fucks you like your unbreakable. An obnoxiously hard and fast dicking, turns into a wrecked and painful hyperfixation that wraps his brain, switches off common sense and turns him into a baser animal with only the need to breed.

Several long strokes that reach deep inside of you as he makes you shake and shake, body wracking with sobs as you're overwhelmed and filled.

He groans, pressing his lips to the back of your neck and inhaling the finest scent of your soap and shampoo, your sweat, just simply you. Your back and his chest stick together in sweat, and your legs hoisted in the air under his arms as he wraps his fingers together just on the back of your head. It takes him everything not to dig his nails in. There's accidental nick here and there, and shallow scratches that'll take a week to heal.

Your trapped with no way to move other than to bow your head forward and accept his brutal assault on your pussy.

He's losing control of himself. Mindless of everything that isn't driving his cock as deep into your pussy as possible and as often as possible. His heels dug into the mattress as he slices his hips up and his balls clench. Fuck, he can pratically feel his blood in his dick, fat and swollen. It's nearly painful and only the rapid cuts of his dick pounding into your cunt is enough to satisfy it.

You're so obscenely wet that the room echoes with the sounds of squelching and smells of musk, sweat, and sloppy sex.

Secondo licks his mouth and needs to wipe the trail of drool going down his chin because he can't stop salivating. He's thirsty for more than just water. You next orgasm, your cunt strangling him, the prospect of seeing you pregnant. No matter how many times it takes. He'll do it. He can't wait to see you round and swollen with his kid, that was there is no room for arguement. You're his. If that ring around your finger wasn't proof enough. Those bitemarks on your neck. No one will be able to look at you without seeing his shadow looming over you. You're his. HIS.

He's fucking you hard enough to make your guts gurgle. Long since have you started to cry, loud sobs and tears track down your ruddy red cheeks. You can't shift, you can't move, any kind of fight would have him slipping out of you and you can't... You're so close. Bordering on a fourth and rapidly approaching the next little death.

He had shuddered as his second orgasm gums the inside of your cunt, splashing your walls and womb with his watery white seed.

His lashes fluttered from that first hit if relief. But the endorphins flared, turning his blood to the boiling point, and he didn't... He could keep going. He needed to keep going.

He can't help the growl, almost demonic, as your nails dig into his hot skin, and he works your thoughts on the lashes of another orgasm.

He's running a fever, has to be with how cold and clammy he suddenly feels, and the roller coaster sensation of his legs falling from underneath him. But he can't stop. Won't stop. He needs to make sure it takes even if it kills him. Needs you swollen with his children. Needs to coax another moan from you. Need to make you tremble again. He needs to pull one more orgasm.

He's gulping air like it's water in a desert. His sticky skin clings to yours as he rolls his hips hastily, pounding into you with delirium. Chasing after the high as though it's his last orgasm as a free man.

His dick twitches inside of you. He can't see it all sticky and swollen with the amount of orasgms he's given you. And the froth, the white bubbly cum he's stirred into you that filled over and coats your lips and the shaft of his cock like a white wedding band. In a half-minded haze he considers in investing in a mirror to see your wrecked and cock dumb visage.

Heat roars into an inferno in his stomach doused with kerosene. A hard knot behind his navel that corkscrews his intestines into a revolting kind of pleasure. It's horrid. A melting gooey warmth in his already hot and feverish insides that's hardly even felt.

He pounds into you with hiccuped shambles. What started strong has deteriorated into half thrusts but nevertheless desperate and manic. His dirty talk has dilapidated into hoarse groans and growls like a monster. His promises of fucking a baby into you has him now whispering for a mercy he denies himself. He doesn't have to keep going. He has to keep going. His balls long since draining dry and with every follow-up dry contraction of his dick nearly painful as he twists a knife into his loins, and still he keeps going.

"Nng. Hha-haa." He groans as though someone had just murdered him. Your walls tighten around him again, miniscule, the smallest flutter of your muscles that tells him he's managed to get you to come a fourth time.

Finally, finally he's given all he has. His cock sore and nerves frayed that with that with his last dry oragsm there is no point. He's spent all he has into you and has no more left to give you. He groans, stilling, and catching his breath.

He doesn't whimper when he pulls himself out, unplugging the dense load of creamy hot cum. He feels far away. His skin is oversensative, and as he finally releases you from his grip, his finger pops at how hard he had been holding you in place. He slides the pad of his fingers over your flesh, stunned and amazed and just how soft your skin feels.

He sets you aside and turns over to give you a scan and watch his copious and nearly ridiculous amount of seed as it oozes down your lips. Dribbling down your inner thigh. A gob of it fallen and stains the already wet sheets underneath you.

Secondo watches with heavy eyes. His breathing hard enough to split metal. His whole body hurts but his cock thankfully going soft.

He curls his arms around you in a hug and holds on as he tries to catch his breath and pants into the crown on your head. He traces his thumbs against your cheeks, catching your tears and sighing contently.

One of you should clean up and drink some water, but he can't move. He can barely ask you in your okay before falling asleep, and a loud snore vibrates from his throat.

You're not far behind him.

You can clean up and complain tomorrow, on top of taking another test.

restroom detour - cardinal copia x female!reader

you're out with your friends at the new local hot spot: the pinnacle lounge. a trip to find the bathroom has you stumbling into something not for your eyes.

notes: 2.1k word count, mdni! 18+! there be smut here. also i just love me some sweet cardi. ao3 link.

You and your friends were chattering away at the bar, drinks in hand. It had been a long work week and you were happy to be out with friends to blow off some steam. The Pinnacle Lounge had seemingly popped up overnight in your town and quickly gained a reputation for being a unique, good time. 

The moment you stepped in earlier that night, you could see why. There were people dressed as nuns and priests, some wearing shiny masks and suspenders, mixed in with those dressed for a night out. The color scheme for the bar was black and gold while the lights shifted from neon green to a bright purple as the night wore on.

The music thumps and you all bop long with it. At this point, you are feeling pretty good as you finish up your second drink. 

“I gotta pee!” You chirp cheerfully, giving everyone a small wave as you walk away. You set your empty glass down on the bar and take a look around.

“Fuck.”

You realize you have absolutely no idea where you are going. A few people bump into you as you make your way around the perimeter of the bar before you come upon a dark hallway. There is a door that looks like it has some kind of fancy “G” on it and you assume it’s the women’s bathroom.

The moment you open the door and step inside no less than ten eyes are on you. They were all wearing cloaks, concealing their entire bodies and were peering out of their hoods at you. It was dark enough in the room that you couldn’t see their faces. You finally take in your surroundings, the low glow of black candles lining the room, the smell of incense flooding your nostrils. Your gaze settles on the black altar in front of you and you draw in a gasp.

A naked woman is spread atop it, a pentagram drawn in blood on her stomach. A man was between her legs, his fingers digging into her hips as he glares at you, his mismatched eyes sending chills down your spine. His face was painted like a skull and he wore a black robe with gold details, his dark hair hanging in his face.

“Uh…uh…sorry!” Your voice sounds incredibly high-pitched as you back out of the room.

You can feel your heart beating out of your chest as you slam the door shut behind you, your feet carrying you towards the end of the hall. A man exits one of the other doors, stepping out right in front of you and you collide with a thud. For the brief second you are touching, you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Eh, mi dispiace, mi dispiace.” He mumbles, his hands moving to grip your arms to help you catch your balance.

You look up at him and the first thing you notice are his eyes – the same ones that you had seen in the room. A jolt of fear causes you to jump back from him and he releases your arms, his eyes widening. He is wearing a cassock and biretta and his dark paint around his eyes were somewhat smudged.

“Are you alright, cara?” Copia sounds genuinely concerned, his accent thick as he reaches his hand out to you. You stare at it for a moment then you take another step back. 

“T-there are people in one of the rooms doing weird stuff.” The words spill out of your mouth, your brain too rattled to describe exactly what you saw.

“Ah, yes… the ritual.” He sighs softly, sounding almost annoyed. “No need to be afraid, cara. They are just, eh, partaking in carnal pleasures.”

“But-but the candles and the cloaks and the blood!” 

“How can I explain this to you?” Copia ponders aloud, his white eye glowing in the darkness. He looks around the hallway, his gaze settling on a bench against the back wall of the hallway. “Come.” His hand finds yours, pulling at it gently as he moves toward the bench. You realize he is wearing leather gloves, your eyes falling to the one in your hand, noticing the “G” symbol on it.

You wobble after him, your platform boots clunking as you pull your dress down with your free hand. He settles on the bench, carefully pulling you close to him as your knees touch. His hand still held yours, his thumb brushing it as his free hand removed his biretta. Brown hair spills out from underneath and he smooths it neatly back. His eyes were soft, contrasting with the sharpness of his nose and his dramatic eye paint.

“So, you’ve seen the inverted crosses around the bar, correct?

“Y-yes.”

“Good. I am a member of the clergy that owns and operates this bar. It is meant as a safe space for everyone to come, have fun, be themselves and… partake in sin.” His lips curl into a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. You feel a blush creep up your cheeks.

“But not in a harmful way. The ritual you walked in on is very safe, very controlled. It is meant to represent, eh, the procreation of the antichrist.”

You stare at him dumbly, feeling that you are too drunk for this conversation. Copia smiles warmly at you, letting go of your hand and bringing his up to your cheek to caress it gently. “The things  you saw that frightened you are merely decoration to help establish the mood. It’s meant to be fun; it’s meant to be dramatic… it’s meant to be erotic.” 

You can feel heat start to rise between your legs by his words, causing you to squeeze your thighs together. Of course, he notices, and drops his finger to your chin, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. Your lips part as you shiver from his touch, your wide eyes meeting his duochromatic gaze. 

“Does this make you feel better about what you saw, dolce?” He purrs, inching his face even closer to yours. His smile has turned from sweet to seductive, his eyes shining mischievously. You can only bring yourself to nod and your nose brushes against his as you do so. A shuddered breath leaves your lips as you find your hands find his chest.

Copia takes this as his opening and presses his lips to yours tenderly. You can taste the alcohol on his soft lips, your hands traveling up his chest to the back of his neck. He sighs against you, deepening the kiss as his tongue slips into your mouth as he pulls you in close. His hands start to wander down your sides, settling on your ass before he slips them under your dress. 

You moan softly as he starts to massage it, the feeling of his leather gloves on your sensitive skin sending shivers down your spine. His teeth tug at your bottom lip as he pulls away from you, giving you ass one last squeeze as his fingers drift to pull your dress down for you. Copia then grabs your legs and pulls them into his lap.

He is paying so much attention to you, despite the silence between you both. It’s a comfortable silence as he caresses your legs (and you are mentally patting yourself on the back for shaving them that day). The fear of the ritual you had witnessed is completely gone now, your mind and body at ease as you settle into Copia’s lap.

This was not how you thought your night was going to go but you are not complaining. This was the most you’ve been touched by someone in a long time, having given up on dating a while ago and you weren’t typically one to put yourself out there like this. Something about him, the way he gazed at you, the way he cared enough to explain away what you had seen… 

His fingers start to drift to your inner thighs, drawing small circles as they continue to move up. You swallow thickly, wide eyes looking back at him as your cheeks flush. Your legs spread ever so slightly, allowing him to continue further up your thigh. 

“Is this okay, dolce?” Copia whispers, brushing his fingers even higher. Your face is completely flushed now, the closer he gets to your cunt the more wet it becomes. There is some nervousness buzzing around in the back of your head – despite being hidden by the darkness of the hallways, you were still in a public place. But again… this bar was owned and operated by a satanic organization…

“Yes…please.” 

He pulls your underwear to the side, his fingers dipping into your wet folds. Copia hums in approval, then presses one his fingers against your entrance. You shudder, grabbing on to his cassock and pulling him close. His nose brushes against your cheek before settling his face in your neck, breathing you in deeply. 

“Such a naughty girl.” He growls against you, his finger curling upward, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside you. Your hips buck at the feeling, squeezing your lips shut as a moan bumbles up your throat. You feel him chuckle against your neck then presses a kiss to it as he slips another finger inside.

He starts to kiss, bite and suck at your neck, and by now you are feeling drunk off of him. You can tell by how roughly he’s moving his mouth on your neck that he’s leaving marks all over you. Your lips are quivering now, trying desperately to hold in your sounds which is all but impossible now as he adds a third finger. 

Copia pumps his fingers in and out of you, quickening his pace as he relentlessly presses into your bundle of nerves. Your entire body is trembling, your hips jerking wildly against his fingers. At this point, you’re over being discreet as breathy moans spill from your lips. 

Your hands move to grip at his shoulders, nails digging into them as you squeeze your eyes shut. He’s growling against you now and you can feel the vibration rumble of them down through your chest. Your muscles start to spasm and tense as the rest of your body trembles, a sharp cry rising from your lungs as your orgasm falls over you.

Your chest heaves as you start to come down from the high, feeling even more hazy than before. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, hovering there for a moment as you feel his warm breath on you before he pulls away. “I am very glad we ran into each other tonight, dolce.” He purrs, bringing his fingers up to taste them. You’re still recovering as your mouth drops open, watching him. “Ehm… why did you walk into that room in the first place?”

“Oh, well…” You feel a pang of embarrassment in your chest as you chuckle quietly. “I was looking for the bathroom.” 

He breaks out into a brilliant, toothy smile. “Tesoro, it’s right behind you — eh, if you still have to go.” 

“I probably should now.” You grin as you swing your legs off of his lap, your boots clunking to the floor. He pulls your dress down for you as you stand and you can feel yourself start to blush again. “Thank you.” You squeak before scurrying to the bathroom. 

Once inside, you do your business while your mind is exploding, thinking about what just happened. What did just happen? You got finger fucked by a stranger in a bar after witnessing a satanic ritual simulating the procreation of the antichrist. Maybe this was a typical Friday night for The Pinnacle Lounge.

Your legs are still trembling from the intensity of the orgasm, wobbling as you make your way to the mirror. There are very obvious red marks all along your neck as well as some black smudges from his eye paint. You think about trying to wipe some of it off, or at least try to make some of the marks less noticeable for a second before you decide… fuck it.

As you wash your hands, you start to panic, thinking that maybe he won’t be out there waiting for you. It wouldn’t be the end of the world but — you really wanted him to be there. There was something about him that just drew you to him. Again, your mind turns back to how sweet he was with you and how handsome he was.

When you leave the bathroom, he is standing near the bench, waiting for you. He looks like he is almost nervous, his cheeks flushed as he turns his biretta over in his hands.

“Dolce, I’ve realized we have, ehm, kind of done things a bit backwards tonight.” His lips twitch into a small smile, reaching for your hand. You immediately place your hand in his and he presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “I’m Cardinal Copia… ehm, will you allow me to buy you a drink?”

Hi can you pleaaaaassse do HCs about Copias corruption kink I’ll literally die

Have a little short nonny.

Who does Papa turn to for confession with all his predecessors dead?

Copia has to try hard to convince himself once in a while. He’s a good man. He’s an honest man, well, sure, there's a little white lie once in a while, but he’s never hurt anybody with it. He’s never stolen, and he’s worked hard to get where he is now. (Even though he’s almost certain his name was drawn from a hat.) He keeps everything tidy. He’s frank. He’s polite. He’s a good man.

But his eyes are on you.

You’re new to the sisterhood and still wet behind the ears, with your habit on proper and not a hair out of place. You’re bright, you’re shiny, you’re fresh. You have a soft voice, a shy smile, and despite being a Sister of Sin, you have innocent eyes. He always sees you working, helping someone with their tasks or chores, volunteering to do more. You’re wonderful with the children, compassionate with the ghouls, and come up with fun games for both of them. You’re full of energy, your kind, you have such a sweet smile and give it to everyone, including him, you light up like a festive float anytime you cross someone in the halls. You're just so…pure.

And he wants to see you absolutely destroyed. He wants to see your mascara running with tears down your flushed cheeks. He wants to see your lipstick smeared and your lips puffy and kiss swollen. He was to see your neck decorated with a choker of bruises. He wants to see your tits suckled with bite marks. He wants to see your pussy, puffy and gummed with his leaking cum. He wants to take this pure ray of sunshine and turn it into the dirtiest fucking poster whore he can. He wants to wreck you in every way possible. Stain you in such a way nobody else will want you.

He’s a good man. He swears.

But any time he gets alone in his office, he imagines you and his cock throbs. He imagines you in his office dressed in all manner of skimpy things. Sometimes, it's your habit. Sometimes, it's a cute little plaid skirt. But more often, it's something white. Whatever it is he's flipping up your dress to slide off your cute panties (polka-dot, soft little clouds, even kittens) and stuffing his face between your thighs until your legs are quivering and you can barely stand. He imagines fingering your tight cunt and curling his digits until you sob his name just right and licks his lips at the thought of getting you to squelch.

He wonders if you’ve ever sucked cock before. He wraps a hand around his dick as it jumps at the thought that he’d be your first. Your eyes wide in alarm as he reveals to you his thick fat member and guides your hands down to wrap around it and get a feel for just how large he is. He’s the thickest you’ve ever had.

He imagines you swallowing nervously and looking up at him with a hint of fear.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” He promises. Oh don’t worry, he will. He’ll be gentle up until he manages to get half of it down your throat and then shoves in the other half without remorse. He’ll apologize. ‘An accident.’ He swears. But after that first gag and those first tracks of tears down your cheeks you’ll get the idea. You’ll try your hardest to get all of him down your throat, your pretty pink lips stretched around his cock and shiny with precum, spit, and your cherry chapstick.

He’d shower you with compliments and praise. You’d love it. He’ll help you discover your kink for it.

“Doing so good, taking me so well.” Your face would flush, and your thighs would rub together. You gag, you try your hardest to take him but your jaw hurts and he pulls you off gently by your chin and slaps your cheek with his wet, spit slick cock.

“Look at what you're doing to me. All that is for you. You're making me feel so good. Look how hard and wet I am for you." And you're wet and frustrated before he guides you to the bed and has you lay down. He pulls your legs apart and lines himself up.

Belial, you would be so tight, or perhaps it’s just been too long for you. Either way, you grip him like a vice and whimper when he stuffs you with his cock, he can feel your walls sucking him in and flexing around him as he pushes further and further into you and-

Copia grunts as the band in his lower stomach snaps and cum jets from his cock. He tightens his hand over his dick and squeezes before slowly gliding his fist over his shaft and milks himself of his release.

He sighs, slouching on his bed pillows, and lets his orgasm rumble through him. Then he reaches the nightstand and takes a few tissues, and cleans himself up.

This is always where the fantasy ends. He simply can’t help himself.

Satanas, what he would give for the real thing.

He's in the midst of cleaning up for the night when he hears a knock from his door and goes to answer only to finding you there with a flush on your face, that same flush he had been fantasizing about mere minutes ago. You're wearing a simple but thin tee-shirt with cartoon characters and a pair of shorts.

"Hello Papa...do you have a minute to talk?" And you're shifting your thighs just so, and he can't help but glance at your cleavage so obviously pronounced in your shirt. There, he sees a ruby red fabric with white circles, just barrly oeaking out from the low collar of your shirt.

Polka-dots.

And well...

...He does try very hard to be a good man.

don't let ghouls make tour bus playlists, worst mistake of papa's life 😤

there was a whole 30 seconds left on this audio but I don't have what it takes to finish. ah well.

original audio is from this vid

Finished my Phantom Copia sketches! Please enjoy angels of music! ♥️✨

Have you tried offering Plushia support in coming out of the closet? - Jez from @emeritus-fuckers

Oh, he came out to me months ago, and as a fellow queer person, I couldn’t be prouder for him! But the problem is that he’s squatting in my bedroom closet and won’t leave, and whenever I’m about to sleep, he peeps out and stares at me for a couple of minutes before popping back inside.

- V

them ghouls! (x)

Tumblr somehow became a cozy corner compared to everywhere else. It's surprising, but pleasantly so.

how the ghost tumblr community be while the ghost twitter & tiktok implode

I finished the album and guys...I had a full on orgasm at Umbra. HOLY SHIT! Every single song had that beautiful 80s sound that I adore and Umbra used it in such a way that it got a reaction out of me that I never thought a song could.

Toby is just shitposting at this point.

WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOING

[KARAOKE] Ghost ONLY Karaoke

YouTube

[KARAOKE] Ghost ONLY Karaoke

IN HONOR OF THE NEW ALBUM TOMORROW!🎩Rules🎩-No Backseating unless asked. This goes for games as well as all my streaming activities-Keep stre

Oh my God! My oshi is doing Ghost karaoke!

Guys, I'm actually getting scared. They have all worked so hard for this tour. What if Tobias is forced to delay or even cancel concerts for safety reasons? These lunatic "fans" are out of control. We know they are not just on Twitter anymore. I feel powerless to stop this.

I'm sorry. I've been looking forward to this tour for so long like you all have. Again, I'm sorry for doom-posting. I just don't know what to do.

Change.org

Avez-vous une minute pour aider cette campagne?

#SandalikiSwissa #welovejuttytaylor

https://chng.it/mQxLz8rVbZ

Please guys! There has to be some way we can prevent things from getting worse!

You're a trooper. Keep fighting the good fight!✌️

Me trying to cope and enjoy Ghost as much as I can while the fandom is on fire