No Mom You Don’t Understand, That Autistic Geriatric Satanic Pope Is My Soulmate

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

Some behind the scenes of THAT moment

He just showed up out of nowhere. I have no idea how he got in my house, but he was in my kitchen and he ate my entire pack of sliced bread.

- V

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

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!)

New blood

Available in my shop!

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

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.

Wallflower Pt. II

Read Part I here

Pairing: Papa Emeritus II x GN!Reader

Warnings: Smut/PWP, overstimulation, dom/sub, begging, possessive behavior, choking kink, dirty talk, praise kink, a hint of degradation kink, character study, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex/creampie, crying during sex, semi-public sex/office sex, pet names, dom!secondo, orgasm control, corruption kink, no beta.

A/N: a part two to this fic that I typed up bc I wanted to finish it :) enjoy

WC: N/A

You whimpered at that, knowing he was telling the truth. He wasn’t going to stop until he made you scream for him—until you shamelessly begged him to fuck you stupid.

He grinned, chuckling again, “you know that I mean it, don’t you? My shy little dove is going to cum until they’re begging me to stop.”

“Y-Yes Papa,” you answered, face flushed a deep red from a combination of shyness and arousal. You could feel your cunt dripping into Secondo’s palm, your desperation clear as day.

“Do you want my cock, little one? Do you want your papa to fill you up with his cock until you’re crying from pleasure, hm?” he asked, his voice gravely, growing deeper as his own arousal grew. His dick was painfully hard in the confines of his slacks, the zipper straining from the tent there.

You nodded, unable to speak as his fingers kept moving, hitting that spot inside you over and over, your eyes squeezing shut as you fought another orgasm. Small moans and sharp breaths left you instead, your hips arching towards him involuntarily as you tried hard not to cum again. Secondo wasn’t having it, his look growing stern as he fucked his fingers into you harder, “cum again, caro. Don’t fight your papa. Be good and cum for me. Now.”

You bit back a scream as you came, your limbs growing weak from the force of it. Secondo kept you up right, unfazed by your lack of control. “So good for me, my little dove,” he crooned in praise, withdrawing his fingers from inside you. He brought them up to your lips, the leather of his gloves coated in your cum, sliding in with ease as your lips parted on instinct, allowing them inside. You sucked your cum off, making Secondo groan in response, the sensation going straight to his dick.

Secondo growled, quickly getting your pants down so he could sit you on his desk, pushing you backward so you were laid out on the wooden surface. You could hear the metallic rattling of his belt buckle, the sound of his zipper being undone until finally, finally his cock was free.

“Ask me to fuck you, caro mio. Look me in the eyes and beg for my cock,” he demanded, pulling your legs up to rest over his broad shoulders, the muscles straining under his black dress shirt. Secondo was huge, standing at 6 foot and well-built; he could snap you in half like a toothpick, which only seemed to make you hornier. You liked that he could manhandle you anyway he wanted, although you were much too shy to voice such fantasies.

You whined in complaint, unable to keep steady eye contact with him, his dick sliding along your slit as he waited for you to ask for what you wanted. Secondo didn’t say anything, simply raising a brow as he waited for your reply. You shook your head, choking on the words, “c-can’t, Papa. I’m too shy, I don’t think I can—“

“You can,” he interjected, leaning over you, his face mere inches from yours, “and you will, little wallflower, or you will get nothing at all.”

That made you growl in frustration, your muscles twitching, your cunt clenching around nothing. You needed him and you needed him now.

“Do not play this game with me, bambino. You will not win. Do as your told and you’ll get what you want,” he urged, rocking his hips faster, his cock dragging along your clit just enough to drive you insane, to make you needier.

You looked at him, mouth slack, words slurred, “please Papa, just fuck me. Please fuck me, please.”

Secondo grinned, kissing your throat, his hand wrapping around his neglected cock so he could line himself up. In one swift thrust he was inside you, his balls pressed against your ass. You let out a high pitched wail of pleasure, grabbing at him as he bottomed out. “As you wish,” Secondo whispered teasingly, knowing the bite of pain you felt when he forced his way inside you was punishment enough for your continued avoidance of vocalizing your wants.

“Please,” you slurred again, pleading for something—anything—that would make you cum again. You needed to cum around his cock, to make your mind go blank, to feel that euphoric high as you let go rush through your veins, ensnaring you in satisfaction.

You were shy; everyone knew that. Most didn’t know—or at least they didn’t know for certain—that you craved this. You craved the teasing, the game of cat and mouse that you would ultimately lose, the constant pushing until you inevitable succumbed to pure, unabashed lust. You wanted this.

You wanted Secondo to break you down, to corrupt you in some way. You wanted to be forced from this constant state of overthinking and into a state of calm. You wanted to take what was given, to give up control.

Secondo was the perfect man to do such a thing. You knew that.

He did too.

Secondo’s hips snapped into yours over and over, the head of his cock slamming deep inside you, moans of ecstasy acting like music to his ears as he continued hammering into you. “So fucking tight, piccolo. You take my cock so well, caro, so well. You were made for this, little dove. You were made to take my cock,” he rambled, head dropping back as he fucked into you, hard and fast.

You came from his words, your cunt clamping down on his cock as you spasmed, eyes rolling back in pleasure as you did. Secondo groaned, hips stuttering slightly as he struggled to hold back his own orgasm. He didn’t want to cum this early, not until you were a mess on his desk, crying from pleasure.

You writhed on the desktop, trying to get away from him, trying to escape the overstimulation that was now beginning to overtake you. “Not so fast,” he grunted, his hands gripping your hips hard, “I’m not done wrecking my little fuck toy yet. We aren’t done until I say we are done, caro mio, and I haven’t said we are done.”

You whined, high pitched and pathetic, tears of overstimulation pricking at your eyes as he fucked into you, hard and fast and unforgiving. His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight circles at the right speed, with just enough pressure to rip scream after scream out of you.

“That’s good, piccolo. Scream for your papa, little dove. Let everyone in this Abbey know who owns you,” Secondo laughed darkly, mismatched eyes glowing with sadistic glee at your tears and screams of tortured ecstasy.

“P-Please,” you cried, voice breaking, “please, I—fuck, hurts, oh fuck—please Papa! I c-can’t take it.”

Secondo nuzzled his nose into yours, smiling against your lips. “Yes you can. You can take it for me. Your papa wants two more, little dove. I want you to cum on my cock again.”

You shook your head, eyes stained red with your tears, your lips swollen and hair mussed up. You looked like you had lost a fight with a freight train, broken and writhing on the desk from pain and glorious pleasure.

Secondo nodded, nipping at your bottom lip, his voice a low rumble from deep in his chest, “two more, little wallflower. Just two more. I will be so pleased with you if you cum two more times for me. You are doing so well, amore, making me so proud. Cum again for papa.”

The fingers at your clit resumed their ministrations, choked sobs catching in your throat from the pain of overstimulation. Secondo licked at the stray tears slipping down your cheeks, groaning from the heady combination of salt and skin.

Secondo adjusted your position, his hands slipping up your back, pulling you up into him and deepening his thrusts. Your sex fluttered around him, another orgasm building from his merciless strokes. You were crying and moaning and whimpering, each snap of his pelvis emphasized by the exhale of breath and soft ‘ah ah ah’s’.

“Fuck you feel so good,” Secondo praised, his hips rolling into you at a slower pace, the head of his cock dragging over just the right spot inside you to make you keen and shake. He grinned in realization, rolling his hips again, pleased when you nearly screamed, your nails digging into him as you rocked back up to meet him, trying to push yourself over the edge of climax.

Once, twice, thrice more and you were cumming, falling over the edge with a scream of his name. Secondo slowed his movements, stalling inside you, his balls pressed against you as he let you come down a little bit. “Just one more, piccolo. One more. You sound so pretty when you scream my name, cumming all over my cock like the needy little thing you are. So good for your papa, Il mio piccolo girasole (my little sunflower),” he cooed quietly, kissing your forehead as you cried from pleasure laced pain.

Secondo began thrusting again, slow but hard, his cock hammering deep inside you. It was agonizing, your cunt aching from the pain as he used you, his muscles tensing as he neared his climax.

“Are you going to cum with your papa, little dove?” he asked teasingly, his voice wavering with another deep thrust and another clench of your sex around his cock.

You didn’t reply, your mind long gone as he gave you climax after climax. You whimpered and cried, trembling with each coaxing touch, nearly your edge again with torturous vigor.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Secondo chuckled, amusement written all over his face. His paint was beginning to run, the black streaking with the white, blending certain sections.

You bucked up against him, trying to dislodge his body in order to escape, his cock dragging in and out lazily, only for a hard stroke to follow, driving you crazy. You were a mess, covered in sweat and spit and your own arousal, lips swollen and eyes ringed red with tears. Secondo wished he could bottle the moment and relive it whenever the mood struck him, but he figured fucking you stupid another time would suffice.

“C-Can’t, papa,” you sobbed out, begging in only a few words for him to stop.

“We both know you can,” he snapped, gripping your throat with a gloved hand, yanking your face up to his roughly, “I’ve explained it time and time again. You can. You will. Be a good little fucktoy and cum all over my cock, bambino. Cum on my cock like the messy little slut you are for your papa.”

He slammed into you over and over, until you finally came with a scream, body spasming and going limp, your eyes fluttering shut. Secondo groaned, his balls drawing up as he spilled inside you, filling you with his cum. He mourned the feeling of your wet heat around his dick when he pulled out, his half hard cock soaking wet with your slick, his cum dribbling out of your used hole.

“Not so shy now, my little dove. You will never have to be shy around your papa. I promise.”

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.

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Satan’s Toy Box

Hello anon!  Thank you for the prompt and I hope you enjoy what I came up with!  

~ As the owner of the local sex toy shop you find yourself developing a crush on a Cardinal from the local Satanic church ~

The prompt was: attempting to find out if they are single/available

Cardinal Copia x GN Reader (nsfw, 18+, mdni)

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

Today was going to be the day.

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