#papa ii x reader

[trophyclown]

Please stop using AFAB if you just mean cis female.

I’ve noticed more and more writers are misusing the term AFAB and using it as a shorthand to say the reader is a cis women. This is a bit disheartening to see as the term was coined specifically to include trans and nonbinary people. AFAB is purely a physical description and has no bearing on the gender of the reader. It’s a gender neutral term. So please tag accordingly. Continuing to use it like this just further alienates trans people from a word made to include us. Please, just tag female if that’s what you mean.

[writingjourney]

Peppermint Oil & Kisses

You only have to take one closer look to see exactly what the reason for his foul mood is. The makeup around his temples is smudged, as is the paint around the bridge of his nose when he regards you under droopy eyelids. “Headache again?” Or: Secondo had a long day– you're ready to take care of your Papa.

content: 1.6k words, gn!reader, hurt/comfort, non-sexual intimacy, showering together, established relationship, domestic fluff, lots of pampering for your papa ♡

Masterlist – Ao3 link

A swell of Italian curses, muffled by the heavy oak door. The keys jangle as he misses his target multiple times, the wood groaning painfully as he leans against it before trying again. When the lock finally springs open, Secondo enters your shared quarts with a sigh that seems to carry the combined weight of every burden in the world.

“Hello, my love,” you greet him from the couch, pulling your legs up to make room for him.

He grumbles what seems to be a greeting as he pulls at his robes with impatient, unusually clumsy fingers. When he misses the hook on the coat rack the fabric falls to the floor, emerald green and black pooling at his feet. He heaves another sigh.

“Oh, you’re especially grumpy today, hm?” You only have to take one closer look to see exactly what the reason for his foul mood is. The makeup around his temples is smudged, as is the paint around the bridge of his nose when he regards you under droopy eyelids. “Headache again?”

“Hmph.”

“Oh, heavy is the head that wears the mitre,” you mumble when he sinks down on the sofa beside you, weighty like a rock sinking into the ocean. “Is it very bad?”

“Hmph.”

“That’s because you’re too stubborn to take your meds in time before it gets like this,” you chide, even though your voice is still gentle, wrapping a supportive arm around his shoulders. “You always think you can push through by sheer force of will.”

“Hmph.”

You press a soft kiss to his temple and he leans against you, resting his weary head against your lips. “It’s okay to need a little help, my love.”

“I have you for that, no? You always take such good care of your Papa.”

“Well, not even I can just magically rub away your headache.”

He tuts, squeezing your thigh with his gloved fingers. “That depends on where you’re rubbing, hm?”

You chuckle, cradling his head against you and peppering his skin with more kisses. “I don’t think you’re up for that tonight, darling. But I can rub some of Primo’s peppermint oil on your temples if you would like?”

“Per favore.”

More kisses and he grows heavier by the second. His black eyelids are closed now, long lashes tickling the skin just below as they flutter with every gentle touch. “Let’s get you cleaned up before you fall asleep. I will take care of dinner today and you can take a little nap.”

He gives a dissatisfied hum. “Amore, we are making Cacio e Pepe tonight.”

“So? I helped you prepare it many times and it’s not that difficult.”

You can immediately tell that the idea displeases him. His brows pull together even more than in their relaxed state and his lips curl ever so slightly at the edges. This is the closest you will ever get to an actual pout from him and you have to fight off an amused smile.

“You don’t have to worry that I won’t need you anymore,” you whisper. “I will always prefer being your kitchen helper, my love.”

“I’m not wo–” You shut him up with a proper kiss and he practically melts into it. The smudged make up tastes bitter when you lick along his full lips. Secondo sighs, teasing your tongue with his for a moment before he pulls away. “Va bene. But you will join your Papa for his nap.”

“I will join you until you fall asleep.”

He frowns again but you don’t allow him to complain. Instead you stand and pull him up with you towards the bedroom. Darkness wraps around you, blinding you until you turn on the lamp on his bedside table that he uses for his late night reading. Two hefty tomes reside there with his reading glasses folded neatly on top, though you assume he won’t have any need for those tonight.

“Let’s get you showered,” you say instead, noting that he’s already removing his clothes.

You help him with the buttons on his black dress shirt when his fingers, usually so dextrous, start to fumble unsuccessfully. It feels intimate every time, to help him when he is truly in need of you, a man so proud of his independence and autonomy allowing you to see his vulnerable moments. 

Once you reveal his chest, you permit your fingers to feel him. Combing through the dense hair,  you lightly scratch his skin in the way you know he enjoys before you you push the fabric from his shoulders. Placing your lips over his clavicle, you leave a trail of featherlight kisses along the sensitive skin that stretches over the bone.

“Amore,” Secondo whispers. 

“I love you.”

He smiles, tilting your chin up so you can see the softness in his eyes. “As I love you, my dove.”

You steal a tender kiss and finally lead him to the bathroom. Before you send him into the shower you remove the bulk of his face paints with make up wipes, then rub some of the cleansing oil into his skin to loosen the rest from his pores. For once he allows you to pamper him without much fuss, without insisting on giving back or complaining that he can do it himself.

“Join me, amore,” he says when you turn on the water, setting it to a medium temperature. 

You don’t question him, instead your heart swells with love. You’re willing to do whatever he asks of you when he is like this, when you feel so needed and loved. 

While he rinses off the rest of his paints you undress and then join him, the water immediately relieving all of the tension in your body. You begin to lather each other gently, washing off the remnants of your respective days. When you reach his shoulders you begin to massage him with gentle hands, making sure to adjust the pressure to his liking. His body feels stiffer than usual, the tension of a day spent working through his pain only slowly kneaded from his weary muscles. Every so often he moans in relief, closing his eyes when you reach a particularly cramped spot and you make sure to press a kiss to every single one of them.

Back in the bedroom, you put on some comfortable clothes and drag Secondo’s old Iron Maiden shirt over his head that is littered with more holes than you can count. He refuses to get rid of the old piece out of sentimentality as Primo got it for his thirtieth birthday decades ago. Secondo snakes his arms through the designated holes before they wrap around you, pulling you in for a deep kiss that he sinks into with a sigh. His body weighs heavy against yours. You have to use all your strength to stay upright but do your best to provide him with all the comfort he needs. It is rare that he so openly seeks it, that his guard is let down all the way.

You’re grateful that he lets you see it all now – how he can’t sleep through the nights anymore, how he winces and holds his lower back after getting up in the morning, the way he squints without his reading glasses and the frequent headaches after hours of paperwork. It doesn’t come easy to him. He used to try and hide it until you slowly wormed your way beyond his walls with a heating pad and ibuprofen at hand. He is not even close to accepting that he can’t stay young forever but at least he allows himself a few simple comforts by now. The rest will come in time.

“Now sit. I’ll fetch the peppermint oil.”

He squeezes your hip, raising a brow at your commanding tone. You smile cheekily and press a kiss to his jaw, noting that the corners of his mouth have lifted as well. While he sits down on the bed you retrieve the vial of oil from your bedside table. Dabbing some of it onto your fingers you begin to rub it into the skin of his temples, then his forehead. Secondo’s eyes close and he hums with relief at the gentle massage. You continue even after the oil has fully sunk in, revelling in the way his features relax as the pain recedes. He looks better now, but still incredibly tired.

After you thoroughly wash your hands, you join Secondo in bed, finding that he’s already half-asleep. He rouses enough to notice you and reflexively pulls you close, dragging you halfway across the mattress. You shift onto your back with him in your arms, allowing him to rest his head on your chest. As you gently run your fingers over his scalp, he releases a heavy but content sigh that tickles your skin. Quiet settles in the room and you can feel your own tiredness overwhelming you with every calm breath you take.

“We could always eat the Cacio e Pepe tomorrow,” you suggest. “I know you’re not a fan of take out but–”

“A splendid idea, amore,” Secondo grumbles. “We will order the take out.”

You smile as you close your eyes, continuing to stroke his head to help him fall asleep a little faster. In return, his fingers draw a circular pattern over your hip, never straying from your body for more than a second. Soon he starts to snore, his soft and steady exhales lulling you to sleep as well.

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlist – my Ao3 – Join my tag list

[copias-fluffy-asscheeks]

Daddy Secondo HCs

But literally

Dad!Secondo

*𖤐*

He's never been too sure about having children, but once you, his prime mover, and him had visited the ministry's nursery often enough you had managed to change his mid and he had agreed, but the one thing he was not going to give in until you had a little rascal of your own, is that he secretly had the BIGGEST soft spot for them.

He was so supportive during your entire pregnancy, massaging you, smearing you beautifully plump belly with oils to avoid access skin and stretch marks, even though he had assured you he'd love you and think you're hot even if you did have them.

He WORSHIPED your tummy. He held it for you while resting his head on your shoulder so you could have a moment free from the strain in your back, he loved talking to his baby even though they weren't born yet, he'd play his new songs through headphones that he'd place against your belly for the baby to listen to.

One time, he even played Jigolo Har Megiddo to them, and you only realized when you recognized it half way, hearing it ever so faintly coming from your belly where the headphones were. You had smacked the headphones away wit ha laugh, shaking your head in mock disapproval and hissing some half-hearted words in a scolding tone. ''Ah, but Cuore, they will have to learn some day.'' He hummed, giving a lazy grin.

You had smacked him with a pillow, but, of course he flicked that again, and It happened many more times.

He pampered you so much during your entire pregnancy, even when you told him not too, but you both knew how much you enjoyed it. He massaged you, bought you sweets, cooked you pasta, helped you wash and treated you like a goddess.

Whenever you told him not to pamper you, he merely shushed you with a kiss. Really, all he had to do was pump his seedlings into you a few times, and here you were creating an entire human in the safety of your belly? He could handle the rest, trust me.

During the actual delivery, he was a sweetheart, not asking too many questions and not bothering the nurses and doctors, letting you squeeze his hand for support.

He had tears in his eyes. Actual tears. He did't know if they were from the hidden emotion of the joy that his baby was finally almost here, of because you were squeezing his hand so tight.

He's a big strong one, but DAMN you had a grip. He swore he felt his bones being rearranged at that.

When he finally got to hold his baby, the tears were actively flowing, and he had no desire to try and stop them for once.

He let it all flow, and after a good fifteen minutes he finally calmed down,stroking your hair and non-stop prepping kisses to your temple as the little bundle rested on your chest.

His voice hoarse with adoration, he had murmured ''La mia regina e la mia (principessa/principe).''

He was the best father, desperate to prove himself and give his child the life with their actual father that he and his brothers hadn't had. He was so gentle, and it was beautiful seeing him with his guard down whenever he was with them, so at ease and so himself.

He was so gentle and patient, more than you had ever seen him be, and even though he had always been way more sweet to you he seemed to love and adore you even more, his affection for the both of you only blooming.

He was ecstatic when the baby's first words were ''Papa.'' He literally shrieked and took them into he biggest hug ever, rocking them back and forth and asking them to try and say it again, glancing up at you where you sat with a camera, with tears of pure joy in his eyes. He was a vision.

As soon as the baby learned to talk a few words and got more vocal, he started to try and learn them Italian.

At some point he had cornered you in the kitchen, you baby fast asleep in their crib. He placed kisses all over your face before placing one on your lips, murmuring there ''ne voglio un altro.''<3

*𖤐*

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

[youwouldntlietopapa]

Prompt 25 with Secondo married to the Reader!

I'm so sorry this took fucking ages. I'd make excuses, but I don't really have a good one.

Anyway, I haven't forgotten the others either! I'm still working on them!

Includes: Second x Reader, fluff, domestic fluff, minor drug mention. Nothing too serious.

____________________________________________________________

It was late, you couldn’t have said what time exactly, but you’d been lying halfway between waking and sleep for a while. Curled up against Secondo’s side, head on his chest. He didn’t seem to be having any more luck than you with sleeping, based on the lack of snores. But still, his voice in the quiet of the night was startling.

“… You were right.” He muttered, almost as if he were hoping you’d be to close to sleeping to hear.

“Hmm?” You replied, keeping your head down to hide your triumphant smile. “Say that again?”

Secondo growled softly, cursing under his breath. “I say you were right.” He huffed.

“I usually am.” You struggle desperately not to laugh. “Can you narrow it down?”

“You are enjoying this.”

Oh, you knew that grumpy tone and heard the pout in his voice. You shifted and moved higher up the bed to look at him. Kissing his shoulder and his neck, nuzzling his jaw. “I hear so rarely from you that I’m right. Will you let me enjoy myself just a little?”

He let out a deep sigh, as if it were the greatest concession he could possibly make, but he did at least turn his head to look at you. “Il cerotto termico ha aiutato.”

In truth, you were much happier to hear that than you’d ever be about being right. His back had been giving him trouble all week and, despite your best efforts, he refused to accept any help. It would pass. He was fine. Stop your fussing. You treat him like an old man. That was, until it started affecting things noticeably in the bedroom.

It started with him suddenly having a preference for being ridden. It came to a breaking point when a little too much fun lead to a painful grunt and him spending the rest of the night holding very still, lying on the floor, offering anything he could think of as sacrifice to the Dark Lord if his back would just stop spasming. You’d even gone and dragged poor Primo out of bed, not daring to risk bringing someone from the infirmary and stoke his frustration any more. Primo, at least, would talk sense to him. Or force feed him a remedy if it came down to it.

Whatever the hell it was Primo had made him take definitely made his back hurt less. It also turned him into a puddle of giggles and drool on the living room floor. You’d set up a makeshift bed next to him, too worried to leave him in that state alone, and spent the rest of the night asleep on the floor. Grateful that he didn’t get it into his head to stand up and wander off.

When morning had rolled around, Secondo was more lucid, certainly. But his back was still threatening to become a problem again. “Enough is enough! That ego of yours is just intent on suffering to prove something and I’m not even sure what! Your back hurts, Secondo. It happens to everyone. And you are not twenty any more, as much as you don’t want to hear that. Now, will you please let me help?”

He had, though admittedly sullen about it, agreed. He didn’t want pills and he didn’t want any more of what Primo had, not if he expected to be productive. But you did manage to bargain your way up to the heat patches. One for his lower back and another for his neck and shoulders. Even then he insisted on inspecting them, making sure they weren’t scented, and could be tucked under his robes. Lucifer forbid someone realise he was but a mortal man. He also insisted on grumping about them and making it very clear he didn’t think they would work.

So you did feel a little justified in the smug smile. Even if it meant he scowled at you and rolled his eyes. Besides, the scowl was easy enough to deal with. All it took was cupping his cheek and kissing him deeply.

“Sono solo felice che tu non stia soffrendo così tanto. Odio vederti soffrire, amore mio.” You whispered, lips brushing against his. “Thank you for letting me help you.”

He sighed once more but there was the smallest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I get rid of the pain in my back. Now I still have this pain in my ass.”

That one earned him a nipple pinch even if you had to laugh. “Stronzo! And I was just going to tell you how much I’ve been missing you this week!”

Secondo’s hand slid up into your hair, gripping firmly enough to feel it, and pulled you into another kiss. His other hand tracing a path from your hip to your shoulder.

“Allora dovrò far sì che valga la pena aspettare.”

_________________________________________________________

Il cerotto termico ha aiutato. = The thermal patch helped.

Sono solo felice che tu non stia soffrendo così tanto. Odio vederti soffrire, amore mio. = I'm just happy you're not in as much pain. I hate to see you suffer, my love.

Stronzo! = Asshole!

Allora dovrò far sì che valga la pena aspettare. = Then I'll have to make it worth the wait.

[zombeecreator]

🌷Fiore🌷

~I’ve been working on this for an ungodly amount of time but finally had the balls to post it. Behold, my Secondo fanficiton~

You have been working in the Ministry for a couple of months now, you’ve grown used to the company, and you’ve enjoyed the services you provide. You had been growing close to the papas, becoming familiar with their habits, and even familiar with the new Cardinal that had arrived. You couldn’t quite remember his name, you're pretty sure it was Copia, but you couldn’t know for certain. But as the months passed by, you became more close with Secondo since being hired as his assistant. You would work side by side with him, sitting in comfortable silence as the both of you filled out your necessary paperwork. On occasion you would peek at him, watching as he sorted through his papers, small glasses perched on the edge of his nose, his papal robes discarded and replaced with his more casual clothing, the button up he wore having the first few buttons undone, chest hair peeking out slightly. You liked when he looked like this, it made your heart flutter, but you never paid any attention to that fact. Once in a while you would bring flowers into his office to sit on your desk, and every time Secondo has the pleasure of coming to smell them and compliment your choice of flower. “Ah, this is a wonderful choice tesoro, you never fail to bring a beautiful fragrance to this place.” But as the weeks go by, you’ve noticed something on your part. You tend to be getting more nervous around your papa, more flustered at simple things that didn't seem to have an effect on you before. You begin to get more flustered at the simplistic pet names, you begin to notice the small details about him that send butterflies to your stomach. You didn’t want to admit this but….you might be in love with this man.

   You sigh heavily as you look over the stack of papers you have yet to sort through, a heaping pile that overwhelmed you just from the sight. You slump over your desk, shutting your eyes slightly to get a small amount of rest before you get back to work. The hour was late, almost everyone was out of the Ministry and went back to their rooms. Even Sister Imperator had left, opening the door slightly to wish you a goodnight before leaving. You stayed slumped on your desk for a few moments before you heard a knock on the door, making you shoot up from your position. “Come in” you say. Secondo slowly opens the door, his boots clicking as he takes a step forward. “You’re here quite late dolcezza.” His voice is low and calm, almost an unusual tone considering his much more stern demeanour. 

“Ah..yes I am. I have a lot of extra work I need to do. One of Terzos' assistants didn't come in today and had asked me to cover for them so I have lots to do now.” You let out a weak chuckle, trying to sound as content as possible and failing miserably, which Secondo could clearly see. He walked closer to your desk, picking up one of the papers on top of the stack and leafing through it slightly before putting it back down. He looked you in the eyes, a look of surprise and remorse colouring his features. He looked over your face, examining the dark circles under your eyes and the colour that had drained from your cheeks, locking with your eyes once more. He opened and closed his mouth, almost hesitant to speak, but then said “Why don't you go and rest, I can take care of this, you look drained.” Your face lit up, surprise likely showing on your exhausted face.”Oh no no, it's ok papa you have things to do-“ he cut you off before you were able to continue your sentence. “Please, I insist. Go to your room and have a good night's rest.” Guilt filled your mind, but you didn't want to irritate him by refusing once more, so you accepted, gathering your things and getting up, when suddenly a large hand grasped gently onto your shoulder. You turn around, face slightly pink from the gesture. “Sleep well, fiore.” He smiled at you gently, eyes filled with gratitude and warmth, easing any anxiety that you were feeling before. “Thank you, you as well, Papa.”

  You walked back to your chambers, your heels echoing in the Ministry halls. Your eyelids were heavy, your body feeling as though it was being held by strings that were faulty and then being controlled by a puppet master with no concentration left to care for your sagging body. Finally you made it to your door, setting down your things and rummaging for your keys before finally finding the ones you needed. The door clicked, and you gathered your things once again and went inside. After being able to set your things aside and put your work behind you, you began to undress and put on something more comfy. You slipped into your pyjamas, did your nightly rituals, and went to your plush bed, internally grateful for what Secondo did, the thought sending butterflies to your stomach once more, your cheeks fading to pink as a smile creeped onto your face, before finally drifting asleep. 

Your eyes fluttered open as the morning light creeped through the curtains, sending a warm and welcomed light into your room. You stretched before leaving your bed, making it before getting dressed, making quick work of getting ready for the day. You set your wimple atop your head, put on your high heeled boots, gathered your things and went out into the Ministry hallway. 

You waved to fellow siblings before making it to Secondos office, knocking lightly on the door. There was no response. “Papa? Are you in there?” You knock once more. No response. You rummage through your bag and pull out the spare keys for the office and slip them into the lock, before hesitantly opening the door. You glance over at Secondos desk, seeing nothing but his tall mitre being set atop it with a multitude of signed papers scattered across it. Worry spreads across your face before frantically checking everywhere else in the room, before eyes land on your desk. Secondo was laying back in your chair, sound asleep. All of the paperwork had been finished and stacked into neat piles, he even went the extra step to reorganise your array of pens. You smiled sweetly at the man before you, so calm and unbothered, you didn't feel the need to wake him up. You gathered the work you needed to do and worked at his desk instead, not daring to disturb what seemed to be peaceful slumber. After a few moments, you stood from your seat, gathering up a small blanket and draping it over his figure before heading back to work. 

  After a couple more minutes of work you see Secondo jolt awake, eyes wide and full of surprise. He glances around the room, looking you in the eyes in a panic, “Merda, I’m so sorry Sorella, I didn't know I had fallen asleep.” All you did was smile lightly, reassuring him that it was ok without words being spoken. “It’s ok Papa, I thought I would let you sleep, you deserve it for the help with all of my work last night after all.” He still wore his papal paint, but you could’ve sworn you saw a light blush coat his cheeks. “Grazie, also…did you put this blanket on me sorella?” 

You looked in your lap, internally scolding yourself for your actions, feeling stupid for doing such a thing. He probably saw it as some useless gesture, he was your papa he didn't need to be treated like a child. Thoughts kept spilling from your mind, causing your heart to race. You looked up, 

“Uhm…yes I did. I thought you might like to be warmer…” you muttered quietly. 

“It’s a very warm blanket indeed dolcezza, thank you for that.” He glanced up at you, smiling ever so slightly, warmth filling his eyes, the sun glossing over them. Your heart was still racing, but not with worry or guilt, with a warm welcomed feeling of compassion and love. You knew you couldn’t say it aloud, but the only words flowing through your mind were I love you, and you were happy to welcome those thoughts into your mind. Secondo stood from his seat, taking the blanket in his hands, examining it for a few seconds. You look back down at your work before he realises you were staring. You hear a deep chuckle from Secondo and glance up at him once again, watching intently as he neatly folded the blanket in half, and draped it over the back of the chair. He smiles gently at it, and locks eyes with you again. You want to look away to avoid making him uncomfortable, but his eyes are so captivating, they're the colour of a forest in the spring, warm orange light shining over them, showing just how bright they really are. He raises an eyebrow upwards and smirks 

“Do you like what you see, Sorella?” His words catch you by surprise, making your breath hitch in your throat and cheeks go a deep red. You weren’t expecting him to flirt, even though you were fully aware of his reputation around the Ministry and the rumours that were spread about him, the thought hadn't really come to mind. You knew people would spread rumours of him sleeping around, seeing multiple siblings on many occasions, but after working so closely with him, the rumours seemed to become irrelevant. You never thought of him in a way that would put him in a bad light, because in all honesty, he never showed you any reason to think so. He treated you with respect and loyalty, making sure to not overstep any boundaries with you. He always made sure you were comfortable and felt safe.

    You hadn’t realised how long you were in deep thought until Secondos voice spoke out in a deep rumble. “Mi dispiace, I didn't make you uncomfortable did I?” You looked up at him with weary eyes. “No! No no of course not Papa…I just didn't expect that…” You smiled wide, cheeks flushing a dark shade of crimson. “I do like what I see.” Holding eye contact with him, you slowly stand up from your seat, sauntering over to the desk. He holds eye contact with you, looking down at you slightly as you walk close enough to be almost against his chest. You could hear his breath hitch in his throat as you placed a hand under his chin. “Do you like what you see, Papa?” His eyes widen for a moment, then relax, causing his features to darken and almost create an even more dark and dangerous demeanour. You couldn’t deny how that sent butterflies to drift to your stomach, warmth filling your cheeks. He smiles devilishly, a deep laugh escaping his lips, his strident accented voice sending a shiver down your spine as he said, “How could I not, fiore.” You both stand close to one another, standing so close almost every breath between you is shared, comfortable silence filling the air. His eyes drift to your lips only for a moment before he locks eyes with you once again. “..Why don't I take you out tonight dolce, you deserve to feel like the beautiful imp you are.” You blush once more, flattered by such praise. “I would like that very much Papa.” You both smile at one another, and Secondo breaks the silence once again, “Please, call me Secondo.” You were surprised with the comfortability that had grown between the two of you for him to suggest such a thing, and you were delighted to be able to say you could’ve experienced this, even if it was a scam or trick, you wanted to take the chance regardless. “Of course, Secondo.”

~To be Continued~

[honeyynymphh]

alright, I couldn't stop thinking about this so I just quickly wrote something out. you can imagine it as whichever Papa you prefer listening to Papa read excerpts from an old text while you lie in his lap it is written with a fem!reader in mind no warnings 600 words

Shifting on your side, you let out a contented sigh. The flames in the grate twist as you watch them, hypnotising you as they dance. The room is softly quiet, the popping of the logs and tick of the old clock helping to lull you into that blissful daze. Your head is in Papa’s lap, his soft voice the only other sound as he reads through an old Satanic text he found in the library just before Unholy Mass this evening. He’s still in his vestments, the slide of cool silk against your cheek is heaven while his free hand idly plays with your hair.

"'Annon in luce stamus ut umbras nostras eiciamus?'" Papa says, and you feel the vibration of his words against your back as he speaks.

As he has been reading passages out to you, he occasionally leans over to the little side table to take notes for his next sermon. You’ve barely registered a word he has said, too busy staring into the fire and basking in the feel of his steady breaths as he speaks. You didn't care if he decided to read the phonebook to you, as long as he kept speaking in that same low tone you would listen to him read just about anything.

“Yes, Papa.” 

Your words are whispered and full of sleep. Perhaps you should have paid more attention during your Latin lessons but you feel him nod. So far you haven’t been wrong in your responses.

“Brava.” 

You smile and rub your cheek against him, trying to bury in deeper. He smells delightful; the incense used during Mass clings to him along with the heady smoke of the fire. But this close you can smell what can only be described as him and that makes you feel more comfort than anything else. It smells like home.

“'Lumen gubernat sed non docet nos sentire. In tenebris confidere debemus aliis sensibus nostris. Oculos nostros in tenebris relinquimus, ut viam nostram clarius sentiamus et veritatem obcaeatam videamus.'” He pauses, hand running down the nape of your neck and making you shiver. “What do you think, dolce?”

Your eyes are closed now, too busy enjoying the feel of him around you. His low voice is lulling you to sleep and so you merely hum noncommittally as his fingers return to your hair.

“You are meant to be helping your Papa,” he admonishes gently. “Instead you are…” His thumb idly traces the soft patch of skin behind your ear and you sigh in pleasure.”...comportandosi come un gatto!”

Papa shifts beneath you as you hear him close the book and place it on the little side table. One hand is still in your hair and the other comes to gently rest on your hip, his fingers idly fidgeting with the fabric of your habit.

"It is not written that 'Dominus tenebrosus dabit voluptatem petentibus', sorella?" You nuzzle against him, too content to notice the teasing edge to his voice. "I think you have not been paying attention during your studies, dolce"

"No, sorry, Papa." A smile pulls at your lips as you shake your head. His hands are still aimlessly tracing patterns against you, though the hand at your hip has since snuck under the hem of your dress to tickle the back of your thigh. ”Latin is very difficult, my tongue has trouble with pronouncing the words.”

“Hmm.” He gets you to sit up, dragging you into his lap and pushing your mussed hair out of your face. Those mismatched eyes regarding you with a smile. “Perhaps you need a private lesson with Papa, si? I can help with wrangling your tongue, sorella.”

------ am feeling some type of way. Annon in luce stamus ut umbras nostras eiciamus - Do we not stand in the light so that we may cast our own shadows? Lumen gubernat sed non docet nos sentire. In tenebris confidere debemus aliis sensibus nostris. Oculos nostros in tenebris relinquimus, ut viam nostram clarius sentiamus et veritatem obcaeatam videamus - The light is guiding but it does not teach us how to feel. In the darkness we must trust in our other senses. We leave our eyes in darkness so that we can feel our way more clearly and see the truth unblinded comportandosi come un gatto! - behaving like a cat! Dominus tenebrosus dabit voluptatem petentibus - The dark lord will give pleasure to those who ask

[nuntia]

A love like mine

Young Papa Secondo Emeritus & Zombie Queen

Preface: Everyone knows the devotion that His Eminence Papa Emeritus II had for Her Majesty, the Zombie Queen, was so profound that he devoted his entire life to her. Waking her from her eternal sleep is, however, a dangerous audacity for even the most devout.

Warnings: corpses, corpse melting, mentions of decomposing bodies

[SECRETS FROM THE CLERGY]

Being inspired throughout its growth by the writings and acts of devotion of Ministry members, learning from successful rituals and seeking to escape life-ending mistakes of them, Secondo Emeritus embarked on the adventure: to wake the Zombie Queen from her sleep.

It was in the chaotic mess of the Ministry's refurbishments that I found this and other interesting documents coming from His Eminence Papa Secondo II's bedroom, a bookshelf untouched since 2018, I believe.

His Eminence's utmost devotion to the Queen, for you:

----

His shirt stuck to his back damp with sweat. The cold breeze blew hard at times, but he didn't shudder. Sounding drops ran down from his temples to his scarred jawline, dripping then down his neck in faded black lines before sneaking boldly under his white shirt.

The grucifix hung near his chin, glistening in the combination of the white moonlight and the yellowish tinge of the lamplight that burned perched on the ground near the marble headstone.

The Sibling who had accompanied him there was looking at him with concern from afar, a few metres behind him as he requested.

Bending over, Secondo continued in the hard work of digging through what appeared to be tons of damp earth until he saw the glimpse of a very, very pale body. Skeletal almost, long since cadaverous but at the same time freshly mourned.

He buried the shovel in the ground in a thud and leaned on it for a few seconds. He tried to catch his breath.

"Sit lux obscura te..." he said in a hoarse voice, his throat dry but convinced, assured tone of voice.

Sibling lowered their head, looking down at the joined hands resting at hip level.

And all went silent. Even the creatures stopped their nightly rites. Only the sound of the leaves of the treetops shaking in the wind dared to speak out.

Not only he, but the whole forest longed for this moment.

Secondo took a deep breath and pronounced with the Hispanic accent of Latin.

"A somno sempiterno tuo exsurge et infernalem vigorem apud nos, Regina."

There was a moment of anticipation so loud that his heart threatened to burst out of his chest.

From the deep grave, silence still emanated.

He looked back in Sibling's direction. A sense of fear began to bubble up inside him, he had to fight the urge to move closer, to attempt a farewell before it was too late. He twitched his fingers in frustration.

Sibling returned the look, but without all that dread – displaying an unsettling concern, but the kind of one taken by surprise, somewhat ignorant to the real reason for all the commotion.

Secondo opened his mouth to speak. Until...

A pale, bony hand rose slowly, earth sloughing off the skin as it moved its fingers. The right knee of the body moved as well, bending in an unpleasant snap of bones until the foot was resting fully on the ground.

Secondo let himself fall to his knees on the ground, gripping the trunk of the shovel, dumbfounded. But then fear appeared to take him over for good; fear that he had erred, fear that he would be, like other past cardinals, a failure and a victim of love-fatigue for the rest of his life. Afraid that his devotion wasn't enough, no matter how much he knew it was genuine.

He closed his eyes tightly, cracked his lip. His breathing became unsteady.

His devotion was incontestable. The nights of the last three years proved it; the thirty years of study proved it. There was no way he could be rejected. And at the same time he felt weak and afraid that nothing would be enough to justify the Queen's audacious awakening.

Bones snapped once more.

She rose from the bed.

And she stood before him.

The second Emeritus stopped squeezing his eyes so tightly, his lungs stopped in time.

He heard her move. Each of her movements, however minimal, resulted in an agonising snap and creak of bones.

He could feel her. The alkaline energy emanating became warm as it hit his skin, in a simultaneous sensation of coolness and a force that pushed him backwards.

A low voice made itself heard.

"Lift your eyes. Observe me. Watch me as you wish."

Silence.

Silence.

Disbelief and excitement, adrenaline coursed through his veins.

So he did. He opened his eyes slowly. First he saw the ground below him, his knee buried in one of the mounds of earth; then, slowly rising, he observed the pallor of the complexion of her feet.

He could not hold back a sigh of astonishment. It was real, he had succeeded in waking the Queen with all his devotion.

He moved his gaze up the thinness of her legs, the bluish tinge to her knees, her thighs slightly wider, with torn bits of skin.

"My Ignez²" he murmured, looking at her with admiration.

He paused for seconds under the naked torso of the body in front of him. His mind searched for the incessant inflating of its ribs, which never happened with notoriety.

"I am not yours." She replied, in a thin, high-pitched strand of voice.

He raised his head, looked up.

The moon illuminated her cheekbones, giving them an even bluer hue; dark eyes watched him from above, overpowering and omnipotent.

"Whose are I?" She asked, her countenance authoritative.

"His." Answered Secondo at once, lowering his gaze.

"And your Queen." And melted into gentleness the so monarchical eyes, towards Sibling. "As well as who guards your back."

He looked back at her. Just like Sibling, who did it wisely for just a second.

"You will love for no long" She said.

His heart stumbled. The Sibling shook their head, clasping hands together on the thighs. What could that mean?

The Queen went silent for seconds. Torturous seconds.

Her ribs moved, sobbing with air in exasperation. As if a burst of inspiration, she smiled:

"But oh! So, so, so so madly, Secondo!" The voice grew even higher, almost like deafening squeals.

The energy emanated felt stronger, before it was gone as fast as it came as the Queen closed her smile and the saddened face accentuated her morbidity.

A screech of weeping was heard.

"You have a love like mine..." She cried. Air hissing past the slit in her throat. "A love of much caring, though with an cunning-"

— Loose page of a possible diary, dated January 8th; unsigned writer

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

¹ Pictured in @novaiisk 's art

² Ignez de Castro, allegedly the birth name of Her Majesty Zombie Queen, was the lover of the Portuguese king D. Pedro I. She was murdered at the behest of the father of D. Pedro (at the time, King of Portugal), but was crowned Queen after her death when D. Pedro became king. You can read more about it in here

This episode, if the math is correct, happened around the 80s/90s. But that was in January, that is for sure. His Majesty Papa Emeritus Nihil was still assuming the papacy, and Papa Secondo was at the height of his devotion – getting ready to follow the inspirations and feel her in his heart.

Her Majesty the Queen has the gift of unraveling the future of love. There are indications that the Sibling of Sin that accompanied Papa Secondo was a longtime partner of his.

The remainder of the "chronicle" is lost. However, I will soon bring something that may give us indications of what the Queen may have said.

Until then, go in sin.

May the Lord Below guide you into the night,

Nuntia

[criticallyannoying]

GUYS

I recently got into the band Ghost, and I literally cannot stop listening to it. (When I pause spotify, I can hear the songs playing in my brain). But anyway, while freaking out, I noticed that I could arrange the songs in a way to tell a story, and since I have no talent as a writer, I had to find a way to get this out of my head, hence:

✨️ Falling in love with satanas aka lucifer ✨️playlist on spotify

I don't know if anyone will listen to it, but if you do i'd love to hear your thoughts about it! I think I managed to make it so you could have your own interpretation of it, so I won't explain what I imagined to be the narrative here.

Just a few things for my neurodivergent buddies out there, a couple songs work better if you don't take it too literally (like, word by word, if that makes any sense). And not all songs are meant to be in papa's/lucifer/whoever you imagine is singing this' pov. So if you don't think a song fits, try to listen to it again with that in mind.

Also, also! If anyone could link/tag any ghost fanart/artists I'd deeply appreciate it, i want to add a picture to the playlist :D.

[egonspenglerishot]

hi!!! your fics are very cute <3

is there any way you could do a short little ficlet about Secondo caring for a reader with chronic hives? (only if you are comfortable, of course!!) and if you can, perhaps they fall asleep against him after taking benadryl? I have hives rn and I am eepy and my brain is mush ADJANDNSND

<3

Of course! I’ve just injured myself so this takes away some of the pain pain.

“Sleep”

Secondo realized as soon as you began itching what it was. He’d seen this so many times before especially with the siblings of sin. He gathered what was needed and necessary to help calm your hives.

You let him pamper you and help you. You were to tired to care, not even sure what had caused the hives in the first place. As he was gentle with you, you felt your eyes drooping, but not letting you sleep. He finally gave you tablets to take to help you sleep and to calm your hives.

The two of you sat in silence and your rested your head on his shoulder. You slowly fell asleep against him, and he allowed it. You were his significant other.

[writingjourney]

Because your Socondo's dough fic was delicious

YOU are delicious!! OMG I LOVE HIM thank you ♡♡

here is the drabble again, my dumbass deleted it earlier (suggestive kitchen shenanigans, MDNI):

Whatever you do, don’t imagine Secondo standing in his kitchen. Don’t think of him with his sleeves rolled up, a flour-stained apron on, bound tight around his waist. Don’t imagine him mixing water, flour and eggs together with his bare hands, kneading the dough almost lasciviously, the muscles in his forearms flexing with every roll of his hands. It’s messy just how he likes it, the dough covers his fingers, sticky at first, before he adds more flour. He finds the sweet spot with practiced ease, continues kneading, grunting when the mixture gets firmer and he has to use more strength. Don’t think about him slapping the dough once it’s done, smirking at the loud smacking sound. Because Secondo knows. He knows exactly what it does to you. And after he covers the dough with a kitchen towel he sets it aside for later because now it’s time for his favorite part of pasta making – finding out how often he can make you come while the dough rests. And don't worry, he's going to make you count.

[copias-fluffy-asscheeks]

some Cardinal Secondo

quite pleased with how he turned out:))

[youwouldntlietopapa]

My Secondo

+18 MDNI Includes: 2k+ words. Secondo/reader, loneliness, anger, fighting, physical threats (no physical violence. (Honestly, I don't even have any real warnings for this one. It's just angsty domestic fluff right now. But I'm not promising that will last.) Notes: Listen, I am WEAK for soft Secondo. And I will not apologise. Just let me have my grumpy man in peace. Please see my AO3 version with translations included. (Terrible Italian by Google.)

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 1: Fight or Flight

You’d fallen asleep before he’d come back. That had never been your custom, but you’d stayed up as long as you were able. Drifting off at some unholy hour with the bedside lamp still on and your book lying on your chest. Not that you’d really been reading. Your mind had been elsewhere and you were sure you’d read the same paragraph a dozen times, still not absorbing a single word.

And now it was morning. The only signs that he’d been there at all were your book, page marked, set on the bedside table, the lamp turned off, and the way his side of the bedding hand been thrown back when he’d gotten up. If he’d touched you at all, it wasn’t enough to wake you. The sun outside was shining, the birds were singing, and a warm breeze drifted through the window, but the none of it could change the cold from the empty place he should have been. Or the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.

For days you had tried. Been the Good Girl he wanted, met his hard stare with sweet smiles, tried everything you knew he liked best to coax him out of the foul mood that had descended and refused to loosen its grip. But nothing had worked. Last night was just one more thing that stung more than you could bear. There wasn’t even the sound of the shower that you’d become accustomed to waking up to. The bathroom was dark, the steam already faded, his paints carefully replaced in their drawer. His robes were gone too. For a long time you pace, trying to calm your breathing, to stop your heart from pounding until it feels like it will burst from your chest.

Crying won’t help. It won’t fix this.

No, this needs a new approach. You shower and dress, picking your clothes out carefully. Items he gifted you. Not the dresses that hug your curves or the tops cut to let him admire your chest. No, the ones he chose for your comfort, not his own lust. The ones that say more than any of the others that he loves you. The soft black sweater that feels like a warm embrace. The leggings you know he thinks are silly but that he is content knowing you are happy in. The simple flats that barely make a sound on the stone tiles and will let you get through the day without your feet aching from the usual heels.

You start down the hall to his office bravely enough, but the closer the door gets, the more the worry settles into your gut. Writhing like a pot of eels. It won’t do. He’ll smell the fear on you. You’ll never get anything if he thinks he can simply dismiss you. And if that happens… if he really does send you away so flatly… what more is there? Pack your things and slink back to your old dorm with your tail between your legs. Never meet his gaze again. Break your vows entirely and run. No. No, this is worth fighting for. Bury your worry and steel yourself. Show him you won’t be so easily set aside.

You knock three times firmly and wait. Finally his voice calls for you to enter, muffled by the thick wood of the heavy door. You enter without looking directly at him, turning to close the door behind you first. When you do look at him, he stares with that same cold expression he’s worn for days. An edge of impatience in his eyes.

Secondo.

His perfectly pressed robes and his carefully applied paints. Sitting straight and tall in his chair. The full weight and majesty of his office radiating from him like the very fires of Hell itself. And you’ve never seen him look more miserable.

“You were gone when I woke up.” It’s not a question or a plea for an answer. Just a flat statement of facts.

“You were asleep when I got in.” His deep voice is as cold as his stare.

“I waited up. I thought you weren’t coming home at all.”

“There is work to attend to. Then and now. If you’ve come to pout over things beyond my control, I can save us both the time and tell you it will change nothing. You knew my work from the start. It should be no surprise now.” His tone sounds more like being scolded by a teacher than words from the man you love.

“I haven’t come to pout.” You say sharply.

His brow creeps up. Just a hair. “Is that so? Then what?”

No more need to force that confidence. Something in his dismissive tone fans an anger that has been building. Every day this mood continues. Every day he won’t tell you what’s wrong. Every day he stays distant. It’s been building and with five words, it explodes into an inferno.

You walk over to his desk, the huge, dark wooden thing that it is. Every bit as imposing as Papa himself. With one hand, you swipe his carefully placed things to one side, ignoring his growl of frustration, and climb up on to the desktop. Sitting directly on his papers. Crossing your legs and staring at him defiantly.

“You are testing my patience.” He says dangerously through gritted teeth. But you don’t move. Just staring back at him. “Scendere dalla scrivania.”

“No.” You snap.

The shock of the disobedience breaks through his scowl for half a second and even that feels like victory.

“You would disobey?” He says, incredulously. Scowl settling right back in place, mouth twisting with anger. “Is this how a good girl behaves?”

“Is this how a Papa behaves?” You fire right back, anger burning hot. “You want your good girl? Well I want my Papa. So, you tell me, what is it to be? Shall we both be left wanting or will you let go of your damned pride and talk to me?”

Secondo pushes back his chair and stands. He’s never more imposing than when he draws himself up to his full height, with his robes and his paints. It’s almost enough to make you back down. Almost. He growls in frustration and looks like he might drag you off the desk whether you agree to move or not. Never, not once, has he ever laid a hand on you in anger. But you’ve never fought him like this either.

Instead you slide off the desk and stand in front of him. Hardly a threat. Standing barely taller than his shoulder. “Fine. Have it your own way.” It’s difficult to be so angry while looking up at someone, but you manage it. “I won’t bother you any further. When my Papa returns, please tell him I’ve missed him terribly. But you, whoever you are, you are no Papa of mine.”

Turning to make your exit, already preparing for the weight of the door to slam it properly, his hand grabs your arm. His grip is like iron and pulling away is useless. You still turn back sharply, ready to fight him even harder. But instead his expression has lost its edge. Replaced by something tired and lost.

“Fermare.” It’s not an order but a request. A plea. “Ti prego... non andartene.”

Your own anger fades, worry rising up to fill the void. “Allora parlami. Per favore.”

He lets go of your arm and sinks back into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You are a stubborn and wilful thing, Amore.”

“You knew that before you ever took me into your bed. Did you really think that would change now just because it’s inconvenient?” You offer him your hand and it’s a relief when he takes it. Softly kissing each of your fingers.

“Sono sicuro che non cambierà mai. E sono felice. Amavo questo di te allora e lo adoro adesso.” It’s the softest his voice has been since the darkness consumed him.

Satanas, you could cry. Finally seeing a glimpse of him through the fog. The man you fell in love with. The man beyond his serious expression and strict adherence to his schedule, who’s sermons boomed off of the stone walls and made even the bravest Sisters take a step back. The man who could speak so sweetly, who’s caresses were always so gentle, who’s warmth would envelope you to keep you safe from anything that might threaten to harm you.

Instead, you settle yourself in his lap. Wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his chest. Feeling his steady breathing and the beat of his heart. Waiting until you can trust your voice to speak. “Secondo, amore mio, ti prego... dimmi cosa c'è che non va. Dimmi come posso aiutarti. È una tortura vederti così. Per stare senza di te. Mi spezza il cuore.”

For a long moment he doesn’t say a word, he doesn’t move. Part of you worries that if you look up at him, it will be that hard, cruel face again. Until he sighs and wraps his arms around you, hugging you close. He kisses the top of your head and sits in silence a moment longer. “… Forgive me, Amore. Forgive me. I have been a fool and unforgivably cruel. You don’t deserve that.” He says finally. His voice is so soft, it almost doesn’t sound like him at all. “… and I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that.” You hug him a little tighter, trying to protect him from his own words. “Don’t ever say that. It’s not true and you know it.”

“Do I?” He says, but the exhaustion takes the bite out of it.

“Of course you do.” Looking up at him, the dark clouds finally parting. Leaving behind a man who looks like he needs to sleep a month and to be treated with all the gentleness and care in the world. “Sono tuo, amore mio. Solo il vostro. Adesso e per sempre.”

“Me?” He asks, an unfamiliar uncertainty creeping into his voice. “Or Papa?”

You look at him curiously, worried, and suddenly very aware that there are piece of information you are missing. He is Papa. His duty, his paints, his robes, all of it. It’s simply a part of him. But without those things? Of course you love him. The private version you get all to yourself, when he can relax and let go. Even a little. When he can shed the mask he wears for the world and be vulnerable and honest.

“You, Secondo. You are the man I love. Papa is your title, your job, your duty. Secondo is the man who holds me at night to keep the bad dreams away, who comforts me when I am hurting, who makes me smile when I am sad. Secondo has my heart and soul.” You reach up to cup his cheek and he doesn’t pull away. Instead pressing into your touch.

“… You wanted your Papa back.” He doesn’t meet your eyes. Hell’s teeth, he’s never been like this before. So withdrawn and hurt he can’t bear to look at you.

Your own angry words ring in your ears and the guilt claws at the back of your throat. You know what you said, why you said it. But, if this is what lies at the heart of his worries, you can hear how it must have sounded. “Secondo…” any apology you can think of sounds so hollow and inadequate. “I meant you… really, I did. I should never have said those things. Never. I… was so angry… and hurt… and I was trying to hurt you. Please, my love, please forgive me. I’m so sorry. I thought I was losing you, that you were finished with me, that… that I’d failed you. And what do I do? I come in here to attack you. Try to push you away. Make you end it if it’s over.” Fool, fool, stupid, useless, stubborn fool. You curse yourself. “It’s not my Papa I need. Not the paints or the robes or the office or any of it. It’s my Secondo I can’t live without.”

His gloved finger hooks under your chin, tilting your face up toward his, and he kisses you. Deeply. Not rushed or demanding. The sort of kiss that melts you every time. Crushing yourself against his chest and losing yourself in the unshakable certainty that there is nowhere in the universe you are more safe or more loved. Living in that moment of the most familiar comforts, the things that feel like home. The smell of his cologne, the weight of his arms holding you close, even the bitter taste of his espresso still lingering on his lips.

“È l'uomo che voglio essere per te. Sempre.” He says, barely a whisper, lips brushing against yours.

“Sei sempre stato tu, amore mio. Dal primo momento che ti ho visto.” You bump your nose softly against his and kiss him again.

Secondo sighs and rests his forehead against your. His eyes slide shut and, for a long time, you both sit in silence. Breathing as one. Finding the first real comfort you’ve both had in too long. Letting go of the anger and frustration and hurt. Finally feeling safe, if even for a moment.

He breaks the silence first. “Amore…”

The hesitation weighs so heavily, it threatens to crush you both.

“They are talking of… replacing me. Stripping me of my office… my title.” His shoulders slump.

“Nomina di un nuovo Papa.”

[copiousloverofcopia]

42 and 77 for secondo and his pm maybe? 👀

The prompt was the big damn kiss/In Vino Veritas and Ghestie I am just NOW finally getting to it... though I made it a gender-neutral reader so all can enjoy 💗

So here we go!

Liquid Courage

The hard and unapproachable Papa you have been crushing hard on gets a few drinks in him and finally decides to confess something to you…and the rest of the Abbey.

Also available HERE on AO3!

He's been staring again. This time for longer than usual. It's a bit unnerving, his stare—cold and calculating. As if his very gaze could slice right into you.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't like it. It had been months since your sibling initiation and from the moment you saw him, your heart stilled in your chest. It didn't in the least surprise you when you heard the others call him "hard", "unapproachable", and "cold". You could see that too, but there was something more. Something hidden beneath the surface, like a diamond within rock. 

Over time, your heart only swelled more in his presence—matching the ache you felt in your gut. Watching his command of the congregation during Black Mass, sneaking a glimpse of him pouring over papers in his office, or even when you watched him, in secret, painting his face–it all made you weak in the knees. 

It wasn’t until this past week that it dawned on you—the feeling may be mutual. As your hand accidentally touched his, when you reached for the file you were asked to retrieve for Sister. A spark sent between you. A moment, unspoken but fully felt. You rushed off, your cheeks bright red as you made your way out of his office. Never to revisit him since, worried and embarrassed that you may have taken it the wrong way. That was until tonight.

Copia had returned from tour and the whole of the Abbey was in celebration. Ghouls and siblings alike, reveling in their merriment of his return. Your thoughts, however, never leaving the Papa who had been there all along. His moment in the spotlight, having come and gone, ages before you were ever called “sibling”.  

He was pouring them back, glass after glass. Not unlike the rest of the Abbey, Secondo had consumed more than his fair share of spirits. You watched, marveling at how well he maintained his constitution despite his deliberate assault to his liver. Only hours into the celebration, did you notice his wavering step and his locked gaze. 

Suddenly and without warning he stood up, with the help of some of his ghouls, eyes never leaving you as he clanged around on his glass with a knife. Calling attention to everyone in the Great Hall towards him. “If I could have everyone’s attention!” he called out. All eyes of the Abbey fell upon him as he cleared his throat and prepared to speak.

Secondo smiled and sauntered to the center of the room. While he was indeed, a bit taken by his drink, he still seemed to have his wits about him when he began his speech, offering up a welcome home to his younger brother. Droning on a bit longer than anyone would have liked about the importance of the tour and how well Copia did as Ghost’s frontman. 

“Now please continue with your celebrations, I have something I must attend to.” Secondo declared, raising his glass once more in cheer before walking in your direction. Your breath hastened, the sound of your heartbeat became so loud you couldn’t hear the whispers and cheering of siblings as he approached closer. 

“Papa?” you asked as he stood right in front of you. Majestic in his emerald and black robes. The miter, tall and proud atop his head. How badly you wanted him to take you right there, not caring who saw, when he spoke. 

“I have something I must confess.” He began, pulling a bit at his collar before he continued. “You see tesoro, I have had my eye on you since you arrived, and I cannot get you out of my head…”

“Oh?” you asked him, surprised, but somehow already knowing. You felt the tiny hairs all over your body standing on end. Like electricity coursing through you as you waited for his response. 

“Si, I have longed to feel the touch of your hand, the feel of your lips against mine—imagined what it felt like to be ins—”

“Papa!” you stopped him, feeling the blood rushing to places that made you blush once again. He grabbed your hand and looked deeply into your eyes. There it was again—that softness, that truth. The man behind the paint you knew was there. You could drown in those eyes, a sweet death you’d welcome with open arms if he’d only say the word. 

“Papa I don’t mean to imply anything, but maybe you’ve had a bit too much celebrating tonight and it's affecting your judgment.” you laughed, nervously. Hoping so badly deep down that this was more than a drunken stupor.     

“Oh see, that is where you are wrong amore. The drink is nothing but liquid courage you see…”

“You hardly look like the type that needs a drink for courage Papa.” you laughed once more, tenser now than before as you felt all the eyes upon you. The siblings, clergy, and ghouls—taking notice of you both as your hearts laid bare. 

“Ah, but even a man such as myself needs it when it comes to making such a jump.”

“Jump?” you asked. The words had barely escaped your lips, when his were on you. It was magic as they met. His lips were soft and warm. Your own, melting into his within an instant before you opened your mouth to him. Secondo, slipping his tongue carefully inside to dance with yours in heated passion.

How could this moment be more glorious than you had imagined? How could reality surpass things of fantasy and dreams? It only made you more excited for where it might lead as your head slowly descended back to reality. The thunderous applause and whistling ringing in your ears.  

“Papa?” you asked as you broke apart, your mind still hazy and full of lust.

“Si tesoro?” Secondo whispered against your lips, begging to be allowed back to them. 

“Seems we are making a scene.” you giggled. Secondo took your cheek in his palm, raising your heavy eyes back to meet with his. His mismatched eyes, burning with desire as he slid his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“Then shall we retire to my chambers?” He winked at you, waiting desperately for you to agree. You turned around, watching everyone, excited for you in this truly unexpected situation. Your heart set aflame in his arms and your soul ignited with the passions of Hellfire burning through you. There was only one thing you could say.  

“If you insist.”

[do2faj]

I found this in the depths of my Ipad

[dantesunbreaker]

Cold Cuddles with the Papas(Headcanons)

No warnings apply, just some tooth rotting fluff from our favorite old men!

Primo 

As the eldest brother, it is safe to assume his circulation isn’t as great as it once was. Thus, blankets and warm fuzzy socks are always in abundance with Primo

When you approach him complaining about the cold, Primo is pulling out a pair of double layer socks before you have even finished getting the words out

If he still has work that needs his attendance, Primo will usher you both to the loveseat in his office. An end table will be pulled up to use as a desk, blanket wrapped around you both so you can nestle against him for warmth

But when there is no work to be done, Primo will brew a nice hot pot of tea for you both to share

Together you retire to his chambers where the heat is always turned up to the perfect comfortable temperature

Always takes up the chance to put you in one of his older sweaters because Primo loves the sight of your sleepy face while bundled up in his clothing

If even all of that does little to fight off the could, Primo will sit and cuddle with you beneath a layer of thick blankets until you are warm enough

Your favorite is the occasions where this turns your evening into soft warm cuddles the rest of the day and sharing some delicious soup made with vegetables from Primo’s garden

Secondo

Seems very much like a tough love kind of guy. First response when you come to him complaining about the cold is “well damn, I can’t control the weather”

But a quick flash of the puppy dogs is all it takes to change Secondo’s tune

If you are outside together and you begin to shiver, Secondo will groan, but always will offer up his coat. Pretends he walks with his arm around you to further keep you warm, but you know it because he also feels the cold

When inside and you mention being cold, Secondo simply offers to turn up the heater. 

He often takes things for face value, so either prepare to work for it if you want cuddles from him or simply be blunt about it. No matter the method, you end up getting what you want. 

Sometimes, when you can’t manage to pull him away from his work, you will rest on his lap with a blanket pulled snug around your shoulders as he continues going through paperwork

Other times Secondo will take the time to sit down and relax with you lounging under a throw blanket together in his office

Offers to make you something hot to drink, whether it be coffee, tea, or even hot chocolate. 

Don’t tell his brothers, but he loves when you pick hot chocolate because he uses it as an excuse to also indulge in the delicious chocolatey drink

Terzo

Most likely to be over dramatic about the situation, and also most likely to be equally as affected by the temperature

Do not expect Terzo to offer his coat! “But the outfit was planned around the coat! Taking it off will ruin the look!” He will however walk with an arm around  you, pulled tight against his side so that you can share his body heat

Getting Terzo to accomplish any work when it is cold is a difficult task, but you don’t want him getting in MORE trouble with Sister Imperator

So cold mornings you find yourself accompanying Terzo throughout his day, hot drinks always in hand, warm coats and blankets at the ready constantly

You will stand behind his chair, arms around him with blanket hanging over so that you can wrap him up in your loving warmth as you coax him to get through at least half the stack of papers on his desk

But when Terzo does not have work, expect an extravagant yet cozy night ahead of you

Expertly gets the fireplace going, all the lights off so only the firelit illuminates the room. Absolutely has a huge furry rug in front of the fireplace, which is where you spend the evening cuddling with dozens of pillows and extra blankets

Special occasions you can also expect to share some mulled wine as you bask in the warmth of the fire together, tangled up in each other’s limbs

Copia

Always one to worry, Copia will instantly be fretting over you if you mention being cold around him

Before you can even say anything else, Copia is pressing the back of his hand to your forehead to check for a fever followed by rapid fire questions asking if you are feeling ill

Takes a couple of minutes to settle him down enough to explain that you aren’t sick, you are just a bit chilly and in need of some Copia cuddles

Worry is quickly replaced with affection, throwing his arms around you and holding you tight against his chest. “Oh! Why didn’t you just say so!”

Often one to work too hard, Copia however will set aside his work in these kind of occasions

The couch in his office always has a rather thick throw blanket on it, strategically left by you entirely for the purpose for when you have days like this

Copia will get you both nice steaming cups of hot chocolate, mini marshmallows included!

Both of you curl up together on the couch, blanket thrown over your laps as you carefully sip on your drinks and talk about whatever comes to mind

On some occasions you fall asleep against him, and Copia absolutely refuses to wake you from such a pleasant slumber. So, he instead he simply does his best to complete whatever work he can from the couch until you eventually wake up on your own

[ghulehunknown]

Papa Headcanons - 🐱👅

WARNING!! - NSFW

All the Papas love going down, but they each have their own style

Primo

Prefers to get you nice and worked up, so he’ll spend a painfully long time kissing and caressing you before actually going down on you (so when he does use his tongue it feels explosive)

Says “My, my aren’t we a wet little thing?” everytime, knowing FULL WELL he did that to you

Soft and slow, very gentle

Long, painted strokes along your entire area

Massages your breasts while flicking his tongue around your clit

Uses his thumb to rub circles on your clit to give his mouth a break but doesn’t stop until you’ve cum at least once or twice, preferably in his mouth

Secondo

Roughly fingers you while eating you out

Spreads your legs wide so he can eat every inch of you

Loves to eat you from behind so he can finger your ass too

Grabs onto your legs and hips so he can pull your body closer to him

Wants to take his time and edges you - so he’ll alternate by doing other forms of foreplay (sucking on your nipples or pinching them, making out, fingering you)

Praises you (“brava ragazza”) for being so patient as he takes his time torturing you (“You will be rewarded, tesorina”)

Wants to do all the work so he’ll scold you if you start to grind against him

Loves to see his Papal paints smeared all over your thighs

Massages your ass and tits while eating you out

Terzo

Would die happy drowned in pussy

Wears the smell of you like a badge of honor the whole day

Desperate to eat your arousal and drink you if you squirt

In fact it’s a little game he plays with himself, to see if he can make you squirt (he’s almost always successful)

Dying to get you off this way before he fucks you hard into the mattress

LOVES when you ride his face; he wants to be smothered and barely able to breathe

Also into 69ing - you on top or laying on your sides

Favorite cunnilingus position is you on your back with your legs spread and one hooked over his shoulder while he finger fucks you and sucks your clit

Massages your g-spot when he knows you’re close to cumming

Darts his tongue in and out of your hole a lot (“Amore, how could I waste a single drop of you?”)

Suctions/sucks on your clit a lot and alternates that, flicking his tongue, and using the flat part of his tongue

While each papa has their talents and are very good at doing down, Terzo is the Prince of Cunnilingus - a cunt connoisseur, if you will

Immediately wants to kiss you during (so you can see how aroused he’s made you) and after because sometimes he’s sweet like that

Usually wants to fuck right after you’ve cum (while you’re still breathing heavily)

Copia

Kisses every inch of you

Moans as soon as he has you in his mouth; he can cum just from eating you out (pathetic little rat man)

Can’t help it and will stroke himself while going down on you, unless you have him tied up (to punish him for being a dirty, needy man)

Loves being submissive to you while pleasuring you - either kneeling underneath you while you’re standing or sitting on the edge of the bed/couch, or tied up to the bedpost while you ride his face

Wants to be used like your sex toy

Would gladly spend all day down there as long as you’re getting off

Heard somewhere that spelling the alphabet with his tongue will get you off, so he does that and stops at whichever letter or motion gets the loudest response

He’s got a little bit of washing machine syndrome going on - very sloppy and all over the place at times

Finds a steady rhythm, position, and stroke and sticks to it because if it always works why change it

Listens to your breathing get heavier and stays consistent with his speed and motion when you grip his hair and tell him “don’t stop!”

Wants to cuddle you after and kiss you and feed you snacks (one time he hand fed you fruit snacks while he was down there)