#terzo x reader

[lingenmustdie]

i did a thing

[lycanthra]

was thinking about the Papas and their need for eye contact when they’re deep inside you.

one of Primo’s big hands cradling your face, surprisingly strong, but it’s not his touch that keeps you from looking away—it’s the intensity in his eyes. uncanny and ageless, unblinking as he looks down at you. you’re pinned to the spot, even as he moves, hips rocking with shallow thrusts as he works himself deeper and deeper into you. you’re writhing beneath him, panting like an animal, clenching around him as you adjust to his size—and he just gazes at you like you’re all that exists. “let me in,” he says on an undertone, voice thick and husky, “and let go.” and when he finally bottoms out, you arch, throwing your head back and squeezing your eyes shut. with the hand he’s been holding your face with, he taps your cheek—three quick taps—and you quickly look back at him. he sighs and says, “just like that, anima mia. keep your eyes on me.” and you do.

a calm, “look at me,” from Secondo, spoken low and controlled and hot. and it’s hard—it’s so hard—when he hasn’t stopped moving, when his fingers are biting into the meat of your thighs as he pins you open for him. he always looks at you like you’re a puzzle he needs to figure out, like he’s trying to develop the ability to read your mind, and it paralyzes you. it’s like everything disappears—the walls around you, the floor beneath you. you’re just floating in an abyss and all you know is how full you are. but you force yourself to keep your eyes on his, even as you feel your climax building in you, hotter and tighter. he watches. and his mouth quirks up at the corners, pleased. “bene.” a single word. you might have imagined it, but it’s enough to push you over the edge. and a rough hand finds your chin so he can keep you from hiding as you come.

Terzo has his fingers twisted into your hair, but not harshly—merely deliberate. he combs his fingers through your hair, tilting your head back up so you can blink up at him. “there you are,” he says with a smirk, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I want you to watch while I take you apart.” his other hand splays flat against your abdomen, pressing down like he wants to feel how deep he is. the pressure makes you whimper, but his grasp tightens in your hair just slightly—so you catch yourself before your eyes try to squeeze shut. his lips curl up into a satisfied grin. “tell me what you’re feeling, amore. let me hear it.” but as you open your mouth, he angles his next thrust and brushes the spot inside of you that makes your veins flood with electricity. all you can do is cry out his name—which he answers with a rasped out laugh, though the way his breath hitches tells you he’s not unaffected.

holding your hands in his, fingers laced with yours, Copia leans in to nuzzle you, bumping your nose with his, uttering a rasped little plea of, “'look at me… please.” and when you do, dragging your eyes open so you can meet his gaze, you see it. like a switch flipping. and his hips start snapping against yours faster, a vein in his neck popping, his face and chest flushed a delicious shade of red. he’s thanking you, telling you how perfect you are, how good you feel around him. your eyes flutter closed at the next ripple of pleasure, and he says your name like it hurts. your eyes pop open again. focus on him again. and he says, “sì, sì—you’re mine. All mine. my perfect—” his words cut off, turning into a deep groan as his rhythm falters and he comes unexpectedly, with no warning. but the night is young….

he’s not squeezing, but Perpetua’s hands rest against either side of your neck, thumbs pressed up under your jaw to keep your face tilted toward his. he’s in no hurry—his hips rolling slow and deep, his eyes locked on your face. the noises you make are very undignified, and it’s too much. he’s too much. but every time your eyes close to escape the hunger in his gaze that makes you feel raw and exposed, his thumbs press harder under your jawbone. “now, now…. stay with me, cuore mio.” and then he pushes in and holds himself there, watching your face as you struggle to maintain eye contact. a soft plea leaves you—not that you know what you’re begging for—and he sighs and says, “oh, i know, i know. just a little more.” it’s a lie. it’s a lot more. but at least he relents and lets you look away after your second orgasm.

[avocado-writing]

Sorry if this is an odd one but what do you think each of the Papa's biggest sexual fantasies are?

Thank you very much! Keep up the good work. Love you❤️

oooo good one. these are my thoughts, personally (nsfw minors dni):

Primo: anything involving cock worship, I think. my man is canonically hung and, though he doesn't necessarily boast about it around the Ministry (not any more, he's too old to show off), he really likes when is partner is Into It. lots of kissing along his shaft, drooling a little as you whisper "oh Primo, it's so big...!" yeah, that gets him off real good. of course, when you're done, he will return the favour...

Secondo: no way he doesn't appreciate shibari. he loves trussing you up and hanging you from one of the purpose-built hooks in his room, studying you like a work of art before he gives you the most intense orgasm of your life. also doesn't mind being the one tied up either, he's pretty kinky. enjoys you putting his arms in a box tie so you can set the pace when riding him, also because it shows how much trust there is between the two of you.

Terzo: ooooo out in public. he really gets off on the idea of fucking you somewhere the two of you could be caught. pulling you into the confessional when he's on duty and bouncing you in his lap, maybe even when another Sibling enters in to confess... shoving his fingers in your mouth to quieten you down... he cums so hard his head spins. you can get him back though, slipping under his desk when you know he has a meeting and sucking him with such enthusiasm that his nails rip the leather arms of his chair...

Copia: my baby boy. my fav. he is into breeding. oh, he so badly wants to put a baby in you. goes insane at the idea of you growing round with his child, getting some sort of primal, innate connection to you like that. even if the two of you don't have the compatible parts to get pregnant, he still loves the roleplay of it. if you ask him "gonna put a baby in me, copia?" while he's inside he will lose control, fucking you until you're full, then fingering his cum back inside you, "so it takes, amore mio."

Perpetua: he is a creature, this is just True to me. he loves a bit of primal play, so long as you consent to it. chasing you down through a forest, knowing that you will be caught; his limbs are too long, legs too fast, sense of smell too sharp to let you get away. throws you down on the soft mulch of the forest floor and buries his mouth between your legs to scent and pleasure you until you're the one howling. only when he thinks you can't take any more overstimulation does he finally slide inside and let himself finish too.

[danse-macabre-ballerina]

Oh geez, please don't make me think about each of the Papas pleasuring me orally....

Please, no, stop....

THOUGHTS: PUSSY EATIN' PAPAS

Nowadays Primo prefers the use of his hands (they don't call him Grandpa Fingerbang for nothing), simply because he finds it more efficient and his time is extremely valuable. It's so easy to find the spots that make you squeal, the amount of pressure and speed that gets you teetering on the edge in record time. His old back is far too stiff these days to spend any length of time crouched between your legs, but his hands are still surprisingly strong and agile. And should they start to cramp, or his arthritic hips start to ache, he can almost always be coaxed into switching you to the other side of his lap for another round. He's quite ambidextrous, after all.

Secondo also prefers fingering more often than not, but for an entirely different reason. He enjoys the power of it over the intimacy of oral sex. Looking you straight in the eye, daring you to look away from his mismatched glare, daring you not to fall apart on his skilled digits, turning you quite literally into a whimpering, pleading puppet for his own amusement. And when he does choose to add his tongue into the mix it's only so he can snicker wickedly at the teary mess you become from the relentless overstimulation.

Terzo, on the other hand is a pussy worshipper, the female orgasm's most vocal advocate and muff muncher extraordinaire. Not that he's above using his fingers, cock, toys, or whatever is at his disposal to get you off, but he's uniquely proud of how skilled his is with his mouth. Pursing his lips around your clit with just the amount of suction, tongue flicking against it at just the right speed. Snaking it into your walls deep enough to find your most sensitive spots effortlessly. Always easing up just when he feels you start to tremble, keeping you dancing on the knife's edge, teasing you until you beg for release. Expertly guiding you down from the precipice as you tumble through the waves of ecstasy. He'll gladly spend all day and night worshipping at the altar between your thighs if you'll let him, and you'd be tempted to if you thought you'd survive.

What Copia lacks in focus or experience he more than makes up for in enthusiasm. Devotion, even. Any chance he gets, he's dropping to his knees and pulling you in with a bruising grip to your ass. Or splayed out on your bed, hooking his arms tight around your thighs, burying his face in your core until he's whining with need and rutting into the mattress. Bending you over his desk and thrusting his tongue into your wet heat from behind until your knees buckle. When he's got you hovering over his face, knees pressed against his ears, he only pulls you down harder the more you protest, surely cutting off his own air supply completely and moaning low and lewd as he forces you to grind down against his mouth. And when you do cum, he's euphoric. He can't believe he could be the one to make you feel like that, can't believe you'd allow him to be. He'll praise you for cumming so beautifully, for being so trusting and vulnerable for him. And as soon as you've remotely caught your breath, he'll be asking you to let him do it all over again.

Perpetua is a bit more feral than the rest, and he likes it gross. He loves you salty with sweat when you're coming from the gym, or smelling of fresh earth when you've been working in the garden. He lives for getting to eat you out during the heaviest flow of your period, smearing his pale face and chest with your blood and practically howling in animalistic satisfaction. And if he can make you squirt he'll lap it up like he's dying of dehydration, as if your essence is the very sustenance he needs for survival. Even when he's fucked you senseless and buried his seed deep within your clinging walls, he'll insist on cleaning you thoroughly, telling you anything that comes from inside you is divine and all his.

BONUS Nihil is still quite adept at pussy eating in theory, but only if you sit on his face because if he's on top his false teeth will fall out.

[writingjourney]

Kind of following on from the last ask 👀 which papa would you say is the best at what in the bedroom? (I'm enjoying these papa competition shenanigans far too much)

i did have to think about this for a while and i think I strayed a bit here and there but here goes (under read more for veeeery 18+ themes, all gender-neutral):

Primo: His strength is that he surprises you, really. He has more stamina than you expect, is more intense than you expect, and even if he lets you get on top to be easier on his poor joints he has an easy dominance over you. That control is less by force and more so an energy he just exudes, a respect he commands with nothing more than a look. He is the best at disarming you completely, if you are into letting someone have his way with you for hours, giving up any sort of rational thinking and control, he is ideal for you, and he does not even need to use his canonically huge cock for that, no. That's just the eventual bonus.

Secondo: He makes your dreams come true. Whatever you are into, he makes it happen one way or another. There are few limits with him, really, and those are regarding mostly what he'd let you do to him, but not the other way around. He's proficient at most pracitices because he has a lot of experience but as to more standard things – he's very good at fingering. That is my ultimate HC and you'll melt if you have a thing for hands/gloves (you will never forget the smell of them, he takes very good care of his leather). Before he ever puts his dick inside he'll have you squirming, coming, crying out around his fingers and he's smug about the fact that it doesn't take more than his hands to make you come apart. Also very good at dirty talk, no matter if you prefer praise, degradation, if you like it soft or rough. He's got you covered, as long as you let him do his thing he'll find his pleasure in it.

Terzo: He has insane foreplay skills, absolutely crazy. He has you wet/hard with a kiss and an intense look from underneath his dark eyelashes. His hands fall into reverant worship the moment they touch you, soft and rough in an intoxicating combination that'll catch you off guard, and the act of undressing alone is sensual enough to make your mind black out. He is generally very attentive, always watching for your tells, and therefore also really good at oral of all kind. When he has his mouth on you and looks up with that heavy gaze it takes you apart before anything has really happened and when he gets going you'll be busy for a long time because he doesn't do things half-heartedly. It really is that combination of sensuality, passion and attention that is unbeatable and his intensity only grows the more into you he is.

Copia: He makes you feel SO safe, even when he's mindlessly fucking your brains out. There is something about him, no matter how he acts outwardly, that craves intimacy more than anything. If he can get away with it he'll mumble the sweetest or dirtiest words, makes the lewdest sounds, and yes, I think he is good at talking you through it but not in the classic dirty talk sense but in the way that he's so honest with it and can't hold back what he's thinking in the moment. People can call him a pervert all they want for talking about sex a lot but it's less that he's obsessed in general and more that he's craving that connection and physical release with someone. He's very unfiltered when passion finally takes over and feels it intensely. That's exactly what makes you feel safe and cherished, he is real in that moment. I think he is also very good at oral, no matter if you prefer to be more dominant or submissive in these scenarios, because he gets lost in sensations very easily and adapts to the energy you bring. Lots and lots of cuddles after whatever it is you do because he needs a lot of aftercare and is very good at it.

V: Anything that has to do with pain and sensation play is where he excels, I'd say. It's the trust of it, the deep connection it requires to give your body into the hands of someone else and rely on them to handle it with care. Receiving or giving, both suits him, but having you at his mercy is just so so special. It could be temperature play, it could be blindfolding, being tied up in various ways, it could be biting and marking or any other creative ways to bring new sensations into the mix. He likes it intense and passionate and unfiltered, no matter how messy it gets. And he likes to tease and torture and see just how far he can take it in the safety of what you have in each other. It brings such an intense intimacy, that's what he craves at the end of it all. He also offers very good aftercare because he needs it just as much after that, knowing there is this safety between you.

[the-did-i-ask]

Lil crack headcannons cause I’m cooking pasta and feel like being devious

Breaking Spaghetti in front of your papa

Primo

The way this man stood there you might almost think he died

Like eyes glazed over, eerily staring, not at you but at the broken in half pasta that now sits on the counter

He mumbles something that sounds like a prayer of forgiveness before look at you and very calmly saying

“I’m taking you out of my will” before making you leave the kitchen

You have never laughed so hard

He was not laughing

Secondo

Literally cries out likes he’s been stabbed

Strides over with a purpose and that purpose is getting you away from the food

Scolding you in Italian so hard you think he’s actually mad

He might be actually but he also sounds distraught

You’ve never seen him so emotional and you’ve been with him when his pet snake died

Also prays for forgiveness but instead prays to his mother

You are now banned from cooking, congrats!

Terzo

I have a feeling he would be all theatrical and cry

And you think he’s faking until an actual tear falls

You’re not sure if he’s crying cause of the pasta or something else

Says “you’ve broken the pasta and therefore broken my trust”

This fucking drama queen

Doesn’t kick you out of the kitchen cause he can’t cook but blubbers about having to watch you now

Copia

Ever seen that couple on TikTok that’s like an American woman and an Italian guy, I forget their names but imagine him

Angry Italian hand gestures

Stuttering and pointing back and forth at you and then the pasta

Doesn’t make a correct sentence in any language

Just Copia noises

Ends up silencing himself, looking down at the floor, taking a breath and sighing before saying

“I don’t know who you are anymore”

Perpetua

Similar to Terzo but with Copia in spirit

Hand gestures and tears! Congrats, this is drama king!

He can cook very well so you will not be cooking anymore

In fact he doesn’t let you near the food he is cooking

Big, wide eyes as a warning

He won’t actually do anything but it’s the kind of warning that’s like “I will break down do not test me

[lucifixion-pose]

A Lesson in Devotion

Okay look I wrote this in like two days and it's messy as hell but that fucking DIABOLICAL GIF hasn't let me know peace since the moment I saw it.

⚠️EXPLICIT, 18+ CONTENT⚠️

Minors do not interact! please and thank you

AO3

As usual, do feel free to tell me if you jork it to this - it will make me unspeakably happy and proud.

CW under the cut.

POV has a vulva and vagina and is addressed in feminine terms (sorella).

CW: Claws. Glove kink. A lot of eye contact. Grindin'. Mouth stuff. The inherent eroticism of the...Anti-Eucharist? What do we call Satanic Communion?

-

Late for Mass again. The fourth week in a row now. I'd just been having so much trouble falling asleep lately, and waking up was even worse. I tried to sneak in unobtrusively but Papa's mismatched eyes landed on me immediately. He paused in the middle of his sentence, drumming his gloved fingers on the pulpit for a moment before continuing.

When it came time for Communion I dutifully lined up with my siblings, anxiously awaiting my turn and sending a quiet prayer to Satan that Papa, his representative on Earth, may have forgotten my face. I kept my eyes down as I knelt before him and opened my mouth to receive the Sacrament. After a beat, my heart dropped. He wasn't moving. The Body of our Dark Lord would not be given to me so easily today. When I finally met his gaze he tilted his head just a touch and quietly tsked at me before finally holding out the wafer.

"The Body of our Lord," he said.

"Nema," I murmured. He didn't place it on my tongue as usual, instead making me lean toward him to take it in my mouth, the tip of one of his golden claws cold against my tongue.

When he said, "The Blood of our Lord," his voice dropped lower.

"Nema."

As before he held the chalice just out of reach, subtly wagging a finger at me when I didn't immediately come to him. When the wine hit my tongue I looked up at him again, receiving only an enigmatic stare. As I rose and walked back to my seat I could feel his eyes on me.

I kept my eyes down for the rest of our Black Mass, trying my best to hide behind the people in front of me, but sure enough, when the service ended I was asked to stay behind. When the basilica was empty of everyone but the two of us, I finally dared look at him. He crooked his finger at me and led me to the vestry, holding the door open for me.

"We can speak a little more privately in here, sorella, yes?"

The vestry was smaller than I'd expected, smaller even than my own little room, though much more richly realized with dark wood almost enclosing the entire space. One wall was lined with shelves and cabinets, the one opposite had an opened closet door where spare vestments hung. The golden hem of one of Papa's albs caught my eye, just peeking out from the shadows.

The only furniture in the room was a leather-padded chair and the small table set next to it. Papa sat down with a soft groan and crossed his legs, then smoothed his chasuble over his knees and sat back, looking at me expectantly.

"I'm sorry for being late for Mass again, Papa," I said.

"This is not the second time, or even the third, is it?"

"No, Papa."

He seemed to want more from me but I couldn't find the words. All excuses felt flimsy in his presence. He started drumming his fingers again, the metal tips tapping loudly on the table, pointedly communicating his annoyance.

"And why are you late...?" He asked the question like I was an idiot. Frankly, I was starting to feel like one.

"I've been having trouble sleeping, Papa. And waking up."

"Why?"

"I..." I trailed off before shrugging helplessly, "I don't know."

"Stress?"

"I guess? I don't really know."

"You seem tense," he said thoughtfully, his fingers stopped their clattering little wave; he tapped them against the table as one, "Come here, sorella."

I hesitated and he waved impatiently, continuing to beckon me until my habit brushed against him.

"You do not indulge in the pleasures of the flesh very often here, I am told."

"What?" I'd heard him just fine; The heat rushing to my face made that clear.

"Your siblings all have their fun together, but not you."

I bit my lip and shrugged again, looking at the tasteful hardwood flooring as though an answer were written in the grain of the wood.

"Look at me," the low, disapproving voice that had appeared during Communion returned, brooking no protest. I shivered when I met his eyes and his fingers tapped loudly on the table again. 

"Do you not feel those desires?" Beneath the commanding tone there was an understanding, primed to turn sympathetic if need be. I'd been here a long time and never indulged - it wasn't a leap to think perhaps it wasn't something I wanted.

"No, Papa. I...I feel them." He had it backwards, unfortunately. A lack of desire would be much easier here. I simply hadn't found anyone who was worth spending time with. Nobody else here was like him, after all. 

"It is a very easy way to relieve stress, you know? Tension," a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when I swallowed hard, trying to stand still and ignore the ache settling between my legs.

He cocked his head to the side and considered me for a moment before asking, "Do you like men, sorella?"

Of course I heard him, but once again couldn't stop a surprised "What?" He raised his eyebrows and waited, one claw rapping hard into the table.

"Y-yes, Papa," I cleared my throat, trying to will away the blush I felt taking over my face, "I...I like men."

"Good. Then kneel."

He stood, the rustle of his vestments and click of his shoes covering the whimper that escaped me. I slowly sank to my knees, heart pounding, skipping a beat at the sound of the lock turning.

He sat back down in front of me and said, "Closer," gesturing until I was between his knees. He looked down at me, studying me, finally reaching for me. 

The tight black leather around his hand was smooth against my skin as he touched my chin and tilted my face to really look at him. Cold metal grazed my neck, and he cracked a smile when I shivered.

"The last time you were kneeling before me you just waited to receive His Body," he said, tracing my jaw with his fingers, "Do you think that is what our Lord wants?"

"I...I don't know. No?" I mumbled. How was I supposed to focus on anything other than his touch? His thumb swiped across my lips, pulling them apart.

"No, sorella," he said gently, "You should come to the Sacrament eagerly. The Lord Below celebrates desire, particularly of Him." A golden claw slipped between my lips, hooking on my teeth just enough to make me move closer. His knees bumped against my side and I squeezed my arms closer to my body, unsure if I was allowed to touch him, unsure what I'd do if I could. His thumb pushed further into my mouth for just a moment before retreating.

"I will teach you how to worship," he leaned back in his chair, the warmth of his thighs surrounding me as his hips slid closer. He rested his elbow on the little table and held his hand toward me, palm-down.

"Well?" he said after a pause, "Did you think we would use His actual Body?"

"N-no, Papa..."

"Then come to my hand."

When I stretched forward he held up a finger to halt me, saying, "'Yes, Papa,'" pointedly.

"Yes, Papa."

He nodded for me to continue. As soon as my lips touched him my eyes closed and he stopped me again with a scolding tsk.

"Sorella," he said sternly, "Does our Lord ask you to come to Him blindly?"

"No, Papa."

"No, only the Nemesis would ask you to take him in darkness. You come to Satan with open eyes, understand?"

"Yes, Papa," my cheeks were blazing hot now as I stared into that captivating white eye. I was unable to stifle a soft moan when his gloved fingers finally passed my lips, the leather so tight and supple it felt like his living skin. His expression grew darker, dreamier as I took him in and out of my mouth. The next time I moaned around him I unthinkingly closed my eyes again.

Tsk.

"His Body, sorella. Again." He seemed to be waiting for something.

I tentatively said, "Nema, Papa," and that proved to be the correct answer. Unfortunately, he had to repeat himself only moments later. I couldn't help it: the claws weren't as sharp as they looked, thankfully, but they were hard and whenever they touched the back of my tongue my body would reflexively whimper and try to close my eyes.

"His Body, sorella."

"N-nema, Papa."

The way he would linger when he was all the way in my mouth made me squirm every time. I tried to go faster - not only to avoid disappointing him more but because I wanted it faster, but no. He pulled away again, a dark amusement glinting in his eyes.

"You cannot rush devotion," he said, "Luckily your Papa is a patient man, eh? His Body."

"...Nema, Papa."

His two middle fingers were offered now and his index finger was curled against my cheek, the tip of that golden claw just barely digging into my skin.

"One cannot hurry into Satan's grace," he said quietly, then, "His Body, sorella. Again."

"You must come to Satan thoughtfully, sorella. His Body."

"Again. Our Lord wants you to approach him with an open mind and wonder in your heart, understand?"

"You must appreciate and admire His grace and light, sorella. Again. His Body."

"How can you appreciate Him if you take Him too quickly to even taste Him?"

"Come to Him devoutly, sorella. Come to Him with reverence."

"Take Him lovingly onto your tongue and the heart will follow."

"Again. His Body. His Body. Again. His Body. Again. Again. Again."

I was shaking when he finally left my mouth and simply stroked my cheek rather than scolding me again. My knees ached and the collar of my habit was soaked from a steady trickle of drool that had crept down my neck. I tried my best to keep still but couldn't help pressing my thighs together, the heat building in me approaching intolerable. My panties were soaked, dragging conspicuously with the slightest movement, constantly tearing my focus.

"You did well," he said, looking at me with warm, understanding eyes, "And how do you feel?"

"My...My knees hurt, Papa," I tried to contain the whining pitch that desperately wanted to come out.

"Poor dear," he said, mostly sympathetic and only a little mocking. He motioned for me to rise and gently touched the reddened skin, inspecting it with a satisfied hum before looking back into my eyes.

"Would you like to go?" He glanced at my knees again, "Or do you feel there is more for you to learn?"

I swallowed and felt my legs tremble beneath me, "I...I'd like to learn more from you, Papa."

"Good," his hand wrapped smoothly around my wrist and pulled me closer, parting my legs with his knee, "Sit."

He sat me firmly on his thigh before I could even think to ease myself onto him, and a kind of smug satisfaction gleamed in his eye when I whimpered at the impact. His hand slid around my waist, settling at the small of my back and pulling me even closer, rubbing my aching cunt along his leg. Purely out of reflex I put a hand against him when I lost my head for a moment. I gasped when I realized what I'd done and jerked my hand away, but he returned it to his chest, flattening his palm against the back of my hand.

"I am just a man, sorella," he said softly, then added, almost hesitantly, "Your touch is welcomed."

"Y-yes, Papa."

"So, tell me," the hand holding mine to his chest drifted away, "How long has it been for you? Since you've been with someone," he clarified. Because I was straddling his leg my habit was already above my knees, but now his hand was there too. He would push the soft black fabric just a little further up, then slowly drag his claws down my leg, striping my thigh with thin lines before repeating it. 

"It's...been a few years, Papa," I bit my lip as he moved under me, his leg and hands working in tandem to prevent me ever sitting still. His fingers reached my hip and slid under the waistband of my underwear, idly tugging at the fabric. 

"A shame we did not meet earlier," he held me still with nothing but a look as he hooked a talon around the elastic and followed it inward, musing, "I could have taught you so much."

"So, sorella, what have you learned today?"

"W...what?"

"Have you forgotten already?" His fingers were still under the waistband as he moved them back to my hip and started making me move along his thigh.

"N-no, Papa, I didn't forget," I bit my lip again and whimpered as my needy, throbbing cunt rubbed against him. 

"Then tell me," he was so close that I could clearly see his eyes for the first time; one a lovely green and the one I'd always thought was just white was actually the palest blue, though both were difficult to see with his pupils flared so wide under half-closed lids.

"You...you can't rush devotion," I managed to keep most of the words steady. He hummed a mmhmm and the hand at my back pushed me to keep moving. When I started grinding against his leg on my own a satisfied sigh rumbled from deep in his chest.

"You have to...a-appreciate His light," I whimpered when his clawed fingers dug into the flesh of my hip, "And have wonder in...in your heart."

"Good," he murmured, "More."

"Our Lord wants...wants..." I bit my lip as I tried to focus on anything but my cunt, dripping with its desperation to be filled. 

"Focus, sorella," he sounded amused but just a touch out of breath himself, and pushed his leg up against me.

"Mm...y-yes...Yes, Papa...Our Lord...wants you to approach with an o-open mind," remembering anything that had happened before this moment was approaching impossible.

"More," he said quietly as the claws dragged inwards from my hip. He searched my eyes for permission before sliding his hand into my panties, breathing out a satisfied sigh when I whimpered and grabbed the silky robe between us with a tight fist. He chuckled again when my hips jerked toward his hand.

His voice was almost sing-song when he said, "Sorella," in a reminding tone. 

"How- nng-"

He cut me off, looking more than a little smug as his fingers worked further in, rubbing along either side of my slit, slowly dragging the tips of his claws along the puffy, sensitive skin.

"H-how can you appreciate Him," I whimpered when I saw his eyes were having trouble staying open too, yet still they held me, "If you...take Him too quickly to...to taste Him?" A soft sound came from him, just a little something carried on a tremulous breath, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard. Even under the neat lines of paint on his face I could see his skin blooming with color.

"Take Him with your tongue and...the heart will follow," I said, and his eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment before locking back onto mine. I had to shift my weight to stay comfortable and accidentally brushed my knee against him. It was hidden well under the robes, but the catch in his breath told me what I'd felt was his cock. 

He wasn't commanding any more recitations of me, only breathing through full, parted lips as his fingers finally slipped inward. 

"So wet for your Papa," he purred. The waver in his voice when he felt the slick betrayed his calm facade. Two fingers slid inside me, gently, carefully, as another quiet moan escaped his lips. He slowly worked them in and out, my own moans failing to camouflage the sounds of wet leather.

I could feel the claws, yes, hard as they were, but it didn't seem to be the first time he'd done this; his hand was deft and sure, his skill easily overtaking the brief flashes of discomfort. His other two fingers were rubbing along outside and the claws there did dig in, poking at the tender flesh every time he pushed deep inside. Pain and pleasure warred as I clenched around him, pleasure winning out every time.

I'd been gripping his robe this whole time but now, watching his eyes mist over with desire, my hand moved on its own and traveled down his body. Long, dark eyelashes fluttered shut again when I rubbed my palm along the outline of his cock. 

"How can I appreciate Him," I breathed, "If you...If I don't take the time to taste Him?" Papa didn't seem to care that I'd gotten the words wrong, especially when I squeezed him between my fingers. He tipped his head back and groaned softly before moving his fingers to my clit. When I cried out and squeezed his cock again he muttered something as his free hand went under his robe.

"Just...just a moment, sorella," he said hurriedly, the hand on me stilling for a moment as he tugged at his vestments, freeing them from under my legs. He pushed the chasuble aside and had started pulling his alb up as well when his fingers started moving again. His eyes and attention snapped back to me when he grabbed my hand and placed it on his bulge. 

"Sorry," he breathed, "Sorry about that, now..." he seemed almost shy suddenly, as if he were embarrassed to tell me to touch him. As if simply feeling how hard he was hadn't made me moan with a mad want to feel more. He shifted in his seat, making me lean over him more, bringing my face so much closer to his. His finger was still moving so smoothly over my clit and it was getting harder and harder to both stay in place and look at him. Every time he made me cry out his cock would twitch so strongly, and he would quietly echo my moans.

"Papa," I said, "Please...I..." I started unfastening his belt, grabbing at his pants to try and free the cock I needed so desperately to touch. "You- take Him with your tongue, that's...that's what you told me..."

"Yes," he breathed, "You will, sorella, soon." His hand joined mine, assisting as I started losing focus. His claws were digging into me, helping keep the finger on my clit in place as he pulled me closer to climax with every motion of his finger.

His lips parted with a breathy moan when I finally wrapped my hand around his cock, again when I spread his leaking precum around the head. I saw him looking back and forth between my eyes and lips, and his mouth was so very close...

"Papa, can...can I-"

Those full lips interrupted me, need guiding our tongues to one another, the lingering taste of the Sacrament a reminder of what higher needs we were serving together. Every time I rolled my hips toward him I felt the metal points more acutely, but with every jolt of pleasure I minded less and less. By the time the heat finally burst through me each little stab was a welcome visitor, strange as they were. My head fell back as I cried out and his mouth was on my neck, breathing his own needy moans across my skin as I shuddered in the close embrace of his arm hugging me tight.

His lips found mine again, eagerly taking in the sound of my bliss, smiling when I whimpered at his touch. His hand moved slowly, sweetly, just on the edge of anything that would overstimulate me but playing with the sensitivity nonetheless. His cock twitched when he made me shiver, a reminder that he was still held by me, still in need.

With every stroke of my hand he seemed to melt a little more. Our leader, our guide on this Earth, Papa Emeritus the Third, touched by divinity and little else - now rocking his hips in time to my hand, his vestments crumpled and pushed out of the way, the smeared paint around his mouth revealing the soft, flushed skin of a mortal man. His hand twined into my hair, crushing our lips together in a kiss that only got messier and more frantic as he lost his composure. He couldn't keep his hands still - grabbing my hips and ass to keep me grinding against him, dragging his fingers along my thigh, the claws digging in and releasing as they wandered my body, finally tugging at the sleeve of my habit.

I broke away from the kiss that we'd seemingly fallen into hours ago and said, "I want- let me taste you, Papa, please, I-"

He ignored me and pulled at my sleeve again, "This," he said, "Take this off." I managed to unzip myself and he helped pull it off, letting it pool around my waist as he mouthed at my naked breast, groping the other.

He sighed happily against my skin and said, "I know you want- I know what you want, sorella," he sucked at my nipple for a moment before continuing, "but I want to hear you cum again, so," he looked up at me and smiled, "you will." His tone was as decisive as his grasp when he took my hand off his cock and laced his fingers through mine. He leaned back and nudged me with his leg, watching me grind on his thigh with a hungry, approving smile as he lazily stroked himself. He was still squeezing my breast, idly rubbing his thumb across my nipple as his attention flicked between my eyes and my cunt.

The claws weren't digging into me but pressing in just enough to make their own indentations in my skin, and when his thumb swiped again it briefly left a thin trace in the skin above my nipple. My thighs were covered in lines from hip to knee, and the sight gave me an odd thrill. I pressed his hand harder into me and moaned as the pinpricks turned into tiny sparks of pleasure. He seemed amused but squeezed tighter and delicately pinched, catching my nipple between the claws, his breath hitching when I shuddered with pleasure.

When my hips started falling out of any rhythm and my cries were almost a constant note, he pulled at my nipple again to bring me closer, bring me back to his mouth. He took my nipple in his mouth again and groaned when my nails dug into the back of his neck, and when my orgasm surged through me like lightning he dug his claws in and moaned softly into me.

"Good, sorella, so good for your Papa," I heard him faintly. His arms went around me as I slumped against his chest, the smooth, supple leather on his hands soothing the scratches he left in me, making me shiver when the metal points brushed across my back. As I caught my breath I felt his hitch and saw he was slowly pumping his cock. He touched my chin and made me look him in the eye again before drawing near, as if to kiss me again, but instead his lips went to my ear.

"Devotion is shown on your knees."

"Yes, Papa," I shivered. I managed to rise on shaking legs before kneeling again. He slid forward in his seat, gripping his cock as I moved closer, letting out a shaking breath when my lips touched him. When I wrapped my hand around him he loosened his grip but kept his hand close, grazing my skin with a claw whenever I was close enough. I mouthed at the underside of his cock, running my tongue along the length of him, whimpering when his claw tapped my cheek.

"His Body, sorella," he murmured, sucking in a breath when I met his eye again.

I dutifully said, "Nema, Papa," before tonguing at his leaking slit, savoring his trembling breaths as much as my first taste of him. I wrapped my lips around his cock and gently worked his foreskin down, following it with my mouth and taking as much of him as I could. When I moaned softly around him I felt his hand go around the back of my head, grabbing my veil to direct me.

"Good," he breathed, moving my head faster, "That- ah- good, sorella, just...just like that," his other hand slid along my arm to my shoulder before raking back down, the gold sketching lines across my skin. The sensation made me shiver, made me forget I'd even closed my eyes again until I heard it again.

"His Body," he reminded me, so quietly I almost mistook it for a breath. When I tried to respond he kept me in place with my mouth full.

"His Body, sorella," he laughed softly and drummed his claws against my arm. I made a questioning noise and he laughed again. He brushed his thumb across my cheek and gave me an encouraging smile. I tried to say it, managed something like eh-aw and he started moving my head again.

"It is a different way to take the Sacrament," he said breathlessly, "But you have- ah- have to do it properly, you know?" He pulled at my veil, raising me up more on my knees as his hips started rolling, thrusting his cock into my mouth more and more quickly, more deeply. His grip tightened on my shoulder, the five little points of almost-pain only making my moans louder. He groaned and tipped his head back, his whole body trembling as he panted desperately, whimpers filling the room until he gasped and pushed all the way into my mouth.

"Fuck," he choked, and his body locked for a moment until a deep growl rumbled from him and he spilled into my mouth, thick and hot and coating my tongue.

His hands loosened and he slid further down in his chair as his body went slack, his mitre dangerously close to tipping from his head as he panted for breath. A shiver rushed over his whole body from the soft parting licks I gave him. He squeezed my hand and let out a soft phew before looking at me, giving me a tired smile as he adjusted his mitre.

"Thank you, Papa," I smiled at him and flicked my tongue under the head of his cock even as he was softening in my hand.

"Ah," he flinched, "That- that will be enough, sorella, thank you." He sat up straight and tucked himself back into his pants, loudly clearing his throat as he set his vestments back into place. When I had my arms back in my sleeves he leaned over to zip up the back for me, his face lingering close to mine before giving me a soft kiss on the cheek. He brushed some stray hairs from my face and adjusted my veil for me, then took my hands to help me stand.

I tried to make myself presentable and his hands came to rest on my hips as he watched me smooth my habit. When I was done he sat back and cleared his throat again, looking away.

"Well," he said quietly, "I...I hope this has been, ah, helpful, sorella."

"Yes, I...Thank you, Papa." I stood for a moment, unsure what to do as we both stewed in the awkwardness that settled over the room, then turned to leave.

"Sorella?" his voice was soft and uncertain, so unlike the Papa I'd only known from afar until today. When I turned he beckoned me closer, taking my hand when he could. He looked up at me, searching my eyes for a moment before pulling me to him again for a parting kiss.

"Be well, sorella."

I waited outside the doors until I heard his voice echo through the basilica. He had already started his sermon when I entered, and his mismatched eyes lingered on me as I took my time finding a seat. Whenever my attention would drift and I started looking around the room, at all the beautiful artwork and ornamentation surrounding us, a sharp tap would echo from the pulpit.

When it was time for Communion I kept my eyes to the ground as I knelt before him. I waited before meeting his eye and he made me reach for the Sacrament again, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he subtly gave me a disapproving shake of his head.

Once the basilica had emptied he cleared his throat loudly and opened the vestry door, tapping his fingers against the wood as I approached.

"Late again, sorella."

"Only by a minute, Papa."

"A minute late is still late," he scolded, shutting the door behind us, "And I see you still do not understand how to properly take the Sacrament."

"I am a slow learner, Papa," goosebumps rushed over me when his fingers curled around my shoulders.

"Very well." His breath was warm against my neck.

"Kneel."

Thank you very much for reading 💚💜

I am handing out spiritual Neosporin and band-aids for all the psychic damage those claws have caused to the coochies of our minds.

If you enjoyed Terzo being such a patient and helpful Papa and can spare some cents for a broke bitch, I have a tip jar

Don't know why I made Terzo a sweet softboi here so don't ask. Turns out it was me being a flippin' genius.

Have instead a little note from my outline that made me laugh:

Yea that's basically it that's the story.

-

Also I guess sometimes people want to be tagged when I write things?????? I guess let me know if you? also want? tagged????

@angellayercake

[secularhaze999]

hey google show pics mr. Ghost penus