#papa x reader

[ghostchems]

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[goldieghoulie]

Words: 734 Rating: Teen Relationship: Any Papa x gn!Reader Summary: Goading your Papa is generally a bad idea, doesn't mean it doesn't thrill you though AO3 link: Run, volpe, run Divider: @gothdaddyissues

"I think we're lost," Papa admits, wry resignation coloring his tone. The light of the streetlight shimmers in his hair as his head swings back and forth between the two street signs marking the intersection.

You chew your lip, good sense fighting and loosing as you reply, "it's all your fault."

He stills. Fear or excitement—it's hard to separate those when it comes to this man—skitters down your spine as he so slowly turns his focus to you, eyes flashing in his painted face.

"My fault?" he purrs.

You swallow hard but nod.

"How exactly is it my fault?" he presses.

"You— you lured me into that alley," you say, doing your best to get the words out as a statement instead of a question.

He steps closer and into shadow. Without the assurance of his expression, you adrenaline ratchets higher.

His voice is surprisingly intimate when he asks, "did I, now?"

"Yes," you say, voice trembling. "I said we should get in the limo, you were the one who asked where my sense of adventure was."

Your blood rushes in your ears as you wait for his reply, and when a slow, soft laugh answers you you take a quick step back. His tsk echos off of the shuttered buildings.

"And where's that adventure now?" he taunts. "Running from your Papa?"

"No," you lie.

Another soft laugh.

"No," you try again, "why would I run from you?"

"Why indeed?" he murmurs, finally emerging from the darkness and into the wan light you're standing in. The expression on his face—a curl to his lips but the humor not quite reaching his eyes—doesn't settle your nerves. "I think it was you who pulled us off our path."

"What?" you gasp.

"Sì. With those glances and touches and whispered desires, how could I say no, la mia piccola volpe?"

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. It's true that you had been doing your best to drive him wild all night, but you had only thought it fair as he'd been doing the same to you—though you couldn't say whether intentionally or not. Still, it had been your fingers tugging teasingly at the waistband of his trousers that had finally caused him to snap and drag you off into the alley.

"You could have said 'yes' in the limo," you finally stutter out.

"Ah, ah," he chides, "as if you didn't like it against the wall. Your blood sang from the thrill of discovery and sweetened your cries."

"You—"

"Your blood is still singing now, are you not satisfied?" His head tilts and his white eye glows far brighter than a simple reflection from the streetlights should allow.

This.

This is what had attracted you to him in the first place, what keeps drawing you back. There's something off, different, more about him and you're never sure if it wants to ravish you or devour your. You're decently confident you'd enjoy either.

"I'm satisfied," you say, voice only just above a whisper. Your eyes slide off of his, as if that will make him believe your lies. "Let's just go home."

"Home?" He moves closer, and you retreat until your back is pressed against a wall and you're both swallowed in shadows. He's just an outline now and though he's not touched you, you know you're boxed in. "And ruin our fun?"

"We could have fun there."

"È possibile," he allows, then leans even closer. You feel his breath caress your neck as he exhales and then draws a deep breath. "But would your heart beat so we were back in your room? If you knew that you were safe? If I couldn't chase you when you ran?"

A choked noise clenches your throat. He's right, back at the Ministry people—or ghouls more likely—would stop him, rein him in, hold him back. But here on this mystery street in this maze of old cobblestones there's no one. If you ran, he would chase—and he wouldn't be gentle went he caught you. Desire coalesces in your stomach.

"Well?" he presses.

You take a deep breath, shove him away, and then run. Despite the harshness of your breaths and the growing distance between you, you still hear his laugh—and then his footsteps as he gives chase.

[infestissumaam]

May '26 Drabble Challenge: Day 14

Day 14: Gods Any Papa x Gender-neutral Reader We interrupt the regularly scheduled angst to provide a smutty reprieve.

You're a gasping mess by the time Papa kisses his way down your body. 

His chest hair scrapes deliciously over the sensitive skin of your torso and legs as he slides down, shouldering your thighs apart.

He's dangerously close to where you want him most, but Papa takes his time, leaving no inch of your belly, hips, and thighs unkissed. 

"Oh, gods, please..." you whine.

"No gods," Papa reprimands, nipping at your hipbone. "Only me. Pray to me."

You barely have time to breathe before his mouth reaches your sex.

Only then do you begin praying his name in earnest.

[infestissumaam]

May '26 Drabble Challenge: Day 7

Day 7: Hybrid Any Papa x Gender-Neutral Reader. No specific genitalia mentioned. TW: intox Somethin' a little spicy today, friends.

“Still with me, tesoro?" 

Papa's breath tickles your ear. You shiver, still coming down from the orgasm he coaxed from you mere moments ago. 

"Mmm, I'm here, Papa." 

He rewards you with a kiss to your sweaty temple. He's still touching you, keeping you just on the edge. 

Weed always makes you more sensitive, but the high from these new hybrid gummies is particularly potent. 

"How're you feeling?" 

"So goooooood," you sigh through a syrupy smile. 

Papa laughs. His touches grow purposeful once more. "Think you have one more for me?" 

You moan. 

Of course you do. Anything for Papa.

[goldieghoulie]

Cornflakes

Words: 449 Rating: T (suggestive) Relationship: Any Papa x GN!Reader Summary: Cornflakes are supposed to be the antithesis of horny, and if only they didn't crunch so loud you might have a chance of keeping your mind from wandering to what else Papa might be willing to bite… AO3 link: Cornflakes

@discountdemonwarehouse sent me this No Nut Kinkvember post and goaded me into the cornflakes prompt. You can thank/blame her for this nonsense 😂💛

Divider: @gothdaddyissues

"I am about ninety-five percent sure that Papa would bite you if you just asked."

"No, no, it's fine," you assured your friend, trying to focus on their voice instead of the crunching you could hear coming from the high table. "I can- it's just- I'll be fine."

"Mm-hm," you friend replied, their disbelief evident in their voice. You tried to rally a response when an especially loud crunch rang out. Tingling shivers skated down your spine and you let out a slow breath. It wasn't the crunching, exactly, that you found so distracting. It was the thought of Papa's jaw working, his strong, white teeth obliterating the offending cereal—and the thought of those teeth pressing into your own flesh.

"How you can be so hot and bothered as a man eats dry, plain cornflakes is beyond me," you friend drawled before taking a large spoonful of their yogurt. You gave a half-hearted chuckle.

"It would be so much easier if I wasn't," you replied.

"Aren't cornflakes supposed to be the anti-horny cereal?"

You shrugged and make yourself eat some of the eggs on your plate. You barely tasted them as you tried to command your body to behave and your mind not to conjure images of Papa smiling so mischievously before lowering his head and—

"I think he's done," your friend said, and your head whipped around to confirm it. Sure enough Papa was standing from the table and one of the Siblings assigned to kitchen duty was coming to collect his bowl. You felt your shoulders relax as you quickly turned back around to focus again on your food. You couldn't quite decide if you were relieved or disappointed that the sweet torture was over.

"He's coming this way, just ask him," your friend urged.

"No," you whispered back.

"Come on."

"I can't!"

"Why not? This ministry encourages sin—"

"I can't just ask Papa to bite me," you hissed. your voice louder than you meant it. Your friend smirked, and you felt your stomach drop. Knowing what you'd find, you slowly turned to see Papa had stopped at your table, a look you couldn't quite decipher on his face.

"A pity, Sibling," he purred, "I'm sure you'd bruise so beautifully too."

A strangled noise came out of your throat.

"If you change your mind, I am free after three this afternoon," he added, before giving a small nod to your friend and continuing his exit.

"How could you?" you hissed at your friend, then buried your face in your hands.

"Pff, as if you won't be in his office at three sharp," your friend scoffed, and you couldn't quite manage a rebuttal because you knew they're right.

[imperabug]

*:･ﾟ✧someone’s flesh is rotting tonight✧･ﾟ:*

a reader x papa v gothic romance

chapter seven: he gathers lambs in his arms

chapter excerpt:

"Did you think I'd forgotten about you, vita mia?" 

All you can bring yourself to say is, "I thought you'd abandoned me again." You can feel your heartbeat in your injured hand, pounding away as you expose the small, soft animal hidden behind your ribs. 

"Abandoned you?" Death looks almost offended, one gloved hand lifting to Its chest, clutching invisible pearls. "I would never," It says with heartbreaking sincerity, toying idly with one of Its gloves, as if It's nervous. "I have been beside you since the day you were born. I have no intention of going where I cannot see you."

continue reading on ao3

taglist: @geastherat, @jacebeleren, @ghoulonthemoon, @anamelessfool, @dem0nteef, and @saintbowie

[goldieghoulie]

yo! new chapter of Bartender of Big E's is out! Copia girlies (gender neutral) go read a vampire AU slow burn about Reader falling in love with him. ya know you wanna 🧛‍♂️

[goldieghoulie]

Under the Holly

Summary: It may not be mistletoe, but you still get your kiss anyways

Relationship: Terzo/GN!Reader

Rating: General Audiences (this was supposed to be spicy, instead it's just sweet)

Word count: 1k

Read on AO3 here

or in full below the cut

"That's not mistletoe," you sigh out, pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger as you will away the headache trying to form. This is a Satanic clergy, why in His name were you decorating for Christmas?

"Sure it is," the ghoul holding an armful of plant matter assures you.

"It's not," you counter.

"It is."

"It's—" you stop yourself and raise your head to pin them with a stare. "Why are you so sure it is?"

"It's got berries. Papa Primo said it'd have berries."

"And did Papa Primo tell you what color those berries would be?"

"White!"

"And what color are those berries?"

"Uh," the ghoul stutters, dropping their attention to the plants in their arms. "White?"

"They're red."

Their head whips up. Surprise, and you'll be damned if you don't think it's genuine, widens their eyes. "Red?"

"Yes," you confirm. "Very."

"Oh, I see." They deflate, and you feel the anger you were harboring for them slip from you in the process.

"Just put it on the table," you say, doing your best to soften your tone. "It's not mistletoe, but holly is still festive. I'll find something to do with it."

"Alright," the ghoul says, dejectedly doing as you command.

"Thank you for trying," you force out. "And perhaps you should consider getting your eyes checked."

They nod their head and turn to trudge out of the room. You bite your lip to stop you from calling out and trying to make things better. You aren't honestly sure you could manage that, given that you're stewing over having another task added to your already long decorating list. You would need to find mistletoe yourself, otherwise you would never hear the end of it—not in this clergy.

You clench your jaw, but then force yourself to release it. As much as you want to give up and return to your real tasks, the request to decorate for Christmas had come from the upper echelons. You had better keep on. You gather a couple of sprigs of the holly, careful of the prickly leaves, and then head towards the ladder still set up from where you had just been hanging lights. It will look festive, it will be fine, you assure yourself as you climb the ladder and set to work.

"Bellissima!" a voice calls, startling you. You drop the holly from one hand and grip the ladder as it shakes under you. Slowly, you turn your head to watch Papa Terzo walk into the room, face alight as he takes in your progress. "This, this is Christmas spirit, no?"

"Uh, yes," you agree, pieces clicking into place in your brain. You had been so ready to be angry at whoever ordered this, but you could never be angry at Papa Terzo. Now eager to be off the ladder, you turn to back to your work and listen as Terzo's footsteps grow closer.

"Ah, and all this mistletoe," you hear him purr from near your hip, "the siblings will have such fun with it."

"This isn't mistletoe," you point out, bracing yourself as you pause to look down at him.

"It's not?" he asks, eyes twinkling just as you'd expected, and your heart flutters in response. For as much as you tried to prepare yourself, you knew you're no match for those eyes.

"It's not," you say and force yourself to turn back to the sprig you had been working on. You finish securing it, then carefully start down the ladder. "It's holly."

"Holly jolly?"

"Mm," you agree, finding your footing on solid ground again. You turn to get the next sprig and continue your work, but Terzo's question freezes you in the spot.

"Does that mean I can't kiss you under it then?"

Your breath leaves you in a gust and you feel your brain scrambling for purchase. Sure, you'd thought about kissing the devilishly handsome Papa before…but did that mean he'd thought about kissing you too? Or was he just flirting; looking for some banter and a quick conquest?

Did you really care?

"It means you don't have to," you finally say carefully. You allow your eyes to shift back to his, and again fall under their spell. The playfulness is there, but there's also something else you can't quite name.

"You never have to kiss anyone," Terzo says, sincerity dripping from his tone. He take a step closer, and you grip the ladder tighter in response. "The mistletoe just gives us, eh, an excuse to act on our impulses."

You lick your suddenly dry lips, and Terzo's eyes dart down to watch the motion. "And you impulsively want to kiss me?"

"No."

"Oh," you say, straightening up and shaking your head. That hurt, but then you had been a fool to think that a Papa wanted you. "Right. Well, I'm going to get mistletoe later, but I'm sure you can still kiss—"

Terzo's hand wraps over yours where you're still gripping the ladder. The leather of his glove is soft against your skin, and warm from his own heat. "I meant only that it wasn't an impulsive desire. It's a desire I've had for quite some time."

"What?" you whisper, thoughts slow to catch up. You can't quite pull you attention from where his hand envelops yours until his other hand comes to pinch your chin, the prick of the nail on his glove assuring you that you haven't fallen off the ladder and into a dream.

"I've wanted to kiss you for quite some time," he continues, eyes meeting your own so you can see the truth there. "It's why I asked for you to have this task. I hoped I might find you under the mistletoe and have my chance."

"You didn't need the mistletoe," you confess. "You could have kissed me whenever you wanted."

"Does that mean I can kiss you now?"

"Please," you breathe, and then his lips are there to steal your next breath.