Papa Emeritus Ii - Blog Posts

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. Yeah. I can work this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're not far behind him.

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

[KARAOKE] Ghost ONLY Karaoke

YouTube

[KARAOKE] Ghost ONLY Karaoke

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

Oh my God! My oshi is doing Ghost karaoke!

Yeah, this sounds like it makes the most sense, to me at least. There was no way that Primo could be younger than Papa Nihil. If I remember correctly, in an interview several years ago (I don't remember if it was with Tobias as himself or as Special Ghoul), Primo was somewhere in his 80s when he was the frontman (2010-2012). And since Nihil admitted to being just shy of 80 years old when he died (2020) in RHRN, that means that Primo would have been roughly 10 years older (more or less) than Nihil.

This is my attempt at making sense of the recent revelations of the Ghost Family tree.

We now know for certain that Emeritus I was Nihil’s brother, based on what we have heard from the London Ritual, and the comic reveals that this brother has had children. And while people think the two babies shown in the Sister Imperator comic are Secundo and Terzo, I personally think they are Primo’s illegitimate sons, and perhaps future papas that may come after Perpetua’s time in the spotlight comes to an end.

As for Secundo and Terzo? Well I believe they are Nihil’s sons. The two were born three months from each other, and if they were indeed brothers to Nihil, they definetly would have been clued in the comic like Primo was. And they have been described been very much younger than Primo. And let’s be honest, Primo looked wayyy too old to be the brother of Secundo and Terzo.

That’s just me, though. I’m still trying to wrap my head around this new information because I was so used to the idea of Primo being a son of Nihil like the others. More information may come in the fallowing months that may make this post completely off the mark.

Are his eyebrows reddish brown? WAS HE A GINGER?!

Daily Dose of Daddy Secondo

🖤

Ghesties? What does this mean? It scares me.

Is it just me, or are the priests in the image exposing their fronts like Papa II did at the end of the Year Zero music video?

Loma Vista Recordings

Blasphemy! Heresy! Mystery!

This product is a PRE-ORDER. Ships Spring 2025. Behold a mysterious masterpiece of three different themes, but you do not get to choose whic

PREORDER

Secondo has always been the Papa I know the least about, but things like this just make me laugh 😂 . I appreciate that he is a more subtle, content papa - I adore the dramatic antics of Popia, and the cryptid misadventures of Primo, but Secondo of all people being the normal one in the family - especially compared to Nihil and Seestor - is such a funny concept.

Often times I find that nothing the fandom can come up with is able to top the lunacy of what is canon, and this is a good example of such a thought.

So I was going through papaganda 3 photos, and found this from a photoshoot in Swedish rock magazine, supposedly of Papa in his house.

There is so much to unpack here. PLEASE tell me this is his room. I would absolutely love that.

Does he dress the doll in different outfits every day? Did he buy it little sunglasses to match him?

This is such Italian grandmother attire and I just know he has grandma hobbies. He is so ridiculously silly I love him

That is so heart-wrenching. I love it.

You should give it a read, it hurts really good :'0

"Here Comes the Sun" Here's the fic link if you want to experience some Emeritus brothers angst

Hello from 2016) I edited it and are pleased :)

this trend is so silly

Hello my dears! ‘u’ “Brotherly love”

Finaly I completed the new illustration! I hope you like it! -w-

English:

Papa Emeritus II: Wait… No, you’re always the same dickhead!

Papa Emeritus III: Asshole!

I have to explain Ghost lore to my mom and i think i’m doing great

if there's one thing that Ghost taught me is that sometimes a family can be a weird old guy, pitbull, a slut (part-time kazoo player), a rat bastard (literally), their long lost brother who thinks hes a vampire, and their dead father/brother (?) who ocasionally comes back to life to do a sick sax solo and then die again

Hello good people of the internet I’m here to offer some shitty, shitty arts

Blank version under cut!!!

marks of the evil one

and it is finally done, possibly my most ambitious piece yet. separate versions under the cut!

i also made it available as a print <3

welcome year zero.

prints + buy my tee (5% of proceeds donated to medical aid for palestinians) + commission info pinned to profile

[secondo voice] am i right fellas? ...fellas?

The Fall Festival || Primo

Get lost (and found) in the Ministry’s annual corn maze with the first Papa 🎃

Contents: ≈ 3K words, SFW if you’re not a coward, primal kink if you squint, Vampire?Primo, Primo x gn!Reader

The first in my Autumnal Papa collection to celebrate the season and Halloween!

Your shoulders slump down as you round yet another corner of the labyrinth. A dead end. More corn. Dry husks of leaves crackled like TV static in your ears as you purse your lips in attempt to focus and retrace your steps. How many right turns had you taken? Left? Counting how many times you had run in to impenetrable walls of crops was useless, more times than you had fingers by this point surely. How long had you even been in this corn maze now?

Blood starts pumping through your body just a bit faster as you study the sky, how much darker had the orange clouds gotten? Had it been this cloudy when you arrived? Would it be dark soon? No phones or flash lights were allowed in the maze and all of a sudden every stalk of corn had begun to feel like its own living entity, crowding together and creeping in on you like a pack of over zealous hyenas stalking a gazelle.

Slow down, think rationally. Inhale through your nose, then exha-

The sharp splintering of snapping twigs and hay over gravel stiffen your spine within a fraction of a second, the swift river that was once running rampant through your veins suddenly curdles under your skin as the warmth of weathered palms settle over your shoulders.

“Dolce mostro, it is only I.” The air that had been lodged in your throat suddenly escapes as the familiar, accented drawl reaches your ears.

Swiveling on your heel to face him, the flicker of a pout crosses your face as you let out a huff. Papa Primo must have wandered off at some point during the past ten minutes when you had rapidly walked the aisles, swearing up and down that you definitely knew where you were leading him this time. And then still had the nerve to sneak up and frighten you like that right after!

Without hardly a moment to process the events of the past 60 seconds, you were taken aback by the sudden light touch of Primo’s hand against your face. A warm, damp streak wiped under his thumb over the height of your cheek bone. Not that you maybe had shed a tear or two, no you weren’t crying because you weren’t scared. You were in a field, dust got in your eye. Or something like that.

“It is not very becoming of a young monster to be so spooked, eh?”

Even if his words were a playful jab, his voice felt like a soothing balm, smoothing and curling over the rough edges of your nerves.

A wrinkle of concern marks his brow as he swipes the green make up from your face off from his thumb and on to his opposite palm where he rubbed his hands together to warm them before grasping on to your shoulders. The expression doesn’t last long without his gaze softening as he takes in your painted face once more.

Roughly an hour had been spent earlier that evening, batting your eyelashes at the older man and giving him your best pleading puppy dog eyes in attempt to sway him into giving in to your wishes. You wanted to dress up in costume together, be in spirit while you walked the course of the Autumn Festival.

Eventually, at your rather dedicated insistence, Primo gave in. And although it was far from out of character, you had to admit that he did look a bit out of place now in the fields with a dark colored tail coat draped over a smooth, red satin vest and a frill collared shirt that was only barely more ruffled than his usual garb.

You had rolled your eyes at his dress choice that past afternoon. Io sono Dracula, he had uttered in a feigned rasp of a whisper as he slinked towards you sat in front of the mirrored vanity, he had hardly even succeeded in leaning down towards your neck before being swatted away. Only a few more flutters of your eye lashes were needed to gain his help when you requested he put on your face paint as a favor. He was the expert, after all. 45 minutes later and you had been transformed with creamy green cosmetics applied with sweeping brush strokes, a few gentle smudges with the heel of his hand. So what if your lip stick came off with a little kiss mark or two on his cheek? That was the price to pay to become Frankenstein’s Monster.

Now that once vibrant face paint had dulled over the hours, cracking through your laughter and now smeared over your cheeks as you stared defiantly up at your Papa.

“I wasn’t scared.”

“No, no. Of course not, amore.” Normally the soothing coo of his voice would be comforting, but the bare minimum effort being put in to hiding the teasing smirk growing on his face put that illusion to rest immediately.

“Molto coraggioso.” It was futile to try to resist leaning in to Primo’s hand as he smoothed back your hair lovingly and your eyes drifted closed momentarily before remembering that he still was in fact teasing you when his voice practically purred next to your ear.

“Come now then, I know the way out.” The sentence came out so casually that for a moment you could only stand and stare in bewilderment as he patted your shoulder and turned to walk in the opposite direction. Primo had given up his guidance right at the entrance of the maze and told you to take the reins. Had this god forsaken old man just accepted the aimless wandering this whole time and said nothing?

“I know you did not believe I would allow us to be lost, mio sole.” He commented with a dry chuckle after you had finally swallowed your pride and followed his lead, trailing behind by several feet while peeking around each corner that was passed by. All pouty comments were withheld, even if all you really wanted to do was ask how much better he thought he was if he still allowed the two of you to delve in so deeply into the fields. He could be interrogated once you were a safe fifty feet from this unnerving excuse of a bonding activity.

Time moved slower and slower as the corn stalks blurred together, seeming to grow even taller as the rays of the sunset began to diminish. It had only taken a few minutes of retracing your steps to lose track of the never ending twists and turns of the maze. Gradually you crept closer to Primo, now almost following directly in his footsteps while grasping at the sleeve of his jacket. The arm that he wrapped around your torso is of little comfort as yet another corner is rounded to be met with a dead end.

An unexpected warm breath against your ear cements you into place, the gentle nuzzle of an arched nose against your jaw without being given a chance to process. Primo’s face buried in the crook of your shoulder may have been enough to hide Cheshire cat grin growing over his face but nothing could conceal the shiver that ran down your spine at the feeling of his leather clad finger tips teasingly trailing over your sides.

“Are you plotting something? I thought you knew where we were going.”

“Hmm?” A soft hum reverberates from his chest while he trails his lips over the corner of your jaw, evidently unbothered by your doubts. The chill of the autumn air was quickly rivaled by simmering heat that pushed through your veins upon being pulled closer to Papa followed by a tantalizing flick of his tongue over your ear lobe.

“Tell me, how does that old folk legend go? Of being caught in the wilderness with a vampire?”

“As much as I would adore a retelling, we need to get going. Everybody else we started with has already left us in the dust.”

“Precisely. All the better, no? No one around to hear you gasping for me.” Every nerve in your body tingled, whether it was from the adrenaline of being lost at night or Primo’s words was impossible to differentiate.

His fingers gently trace over the edges of your face as if to wipe away the smudged makeup but the question of if he simply intended to make it even worse arose when a smug smirk came over his face.

"I quite like a little fright on your face." He whispers, his tone taking on a darker, more seductive turn as his thumb brushed over your lower lip before moving back down over the nape of your neck.

“There is nothing wrong with trembling at the thought of what lurks in the dark..” the fluttering of his breath over your skin is enough to coax out a whine while Primo presses in closer to you, crowding over your figure with his own.

“After all, what is prey who is not fearing of the hunt?”

“Is that what you’re doing? Hunting me?” The opportunity to taunt him while he’s on his high horse is impossible to resist and you jump on it, eager to gain back your confident footing. An amused laugh, dark and creaking comes from Primo as the grip on your sides just under your ribs tightens.

“Of course I am, amore.” His nose runs along the vein of your neck in a way that was enough to believe he could drink in your scent in a single breath.

“And I will always catch you.” The threat falls at the small of your throat, as sharp and pointed as the fangs of the creature your Papa imitated. Barely audible whispers breeze against your skin causing goose bumps to wash over your flesh even more effectively than the autumn chill in the air.

“Always watching you. Pursuing you. Always chasing you.”

“Have you forgotten, piccolo mostro?” The small sliver of space between you felt electrified, your breath caught frozen in your throat.

“This is the part where you run.” That rolling R vibrated a blooming fear into your chest, and with one well timed glance only to see the satisfied smirk on the man’s face, you bolted in to the endless twists and turns of the maze.

"Oh, Girasole, where do you think you're going?" Primo laughs as he watches your retreating figure take off, the sound thick and near menacing as it reached your ears. Always playing hard to get, but Primo was not one to let that stop him from having his way.

"That's it. Run." He whispers to himself as his muscles tense in anticipation, the words falling on deaf ears as your foot steps mix with the crunch of gravel further and further away. But the chase has only just begun.

All at once the Papa's instincts kick into gear as he races after you, weaving through the rows of maize while his eyes scan every angle possible to track any sign of movement that didn’t originate from the ground underneath his feet. With every move he makes, his breath catches as he chases after his prey, his heart still thundering in his chest well after pausing to listen for any hint of motion. The faint rustling of dried leaves feels closer to an assault on his ears considering the silence that had now blanketed the field and the pursuit resumes once more as Primo stalks closer to the barrier that separated him from his prize.

Several yards over, just mere rows away the searing burn in your legs finally demanded that you stop to calm the panting breaths that were heaving from your chest. Spinning around to try and gain your bearings seemed fruitless, every intersection of this place was identical to the untrained eye. The thought of surrendering to whatever your Papa had in mind grew more appealing as your head sunk into your hands in an attempt to focus on what routes you had already taken, from entering the maze up to now. Had you passed the scarecrow that sat guarding its own pumpkin head at the dead end to your left before? It’s carved grin seemed to mock you and without a second thought your shoe connects to the side of it with a quiet thud and a grunt of frustration.

“What’s wrong? Can’t find your way out?” Immediately your head snaps up but no time is wasted searching for the source of the taunt, instead opting to rush directly into the wall of corn next to you regardless of what was supposed to be a blockade. There’s a flurry of footsteps and a grumbled accusation of cheating but nothing, no one, trails behind you as you continue to push your hands through the crowded corn stalks. Rigid stems whip across your face and forearms relentlessly with a force that was almost certain to leave sore welts once the adrenaline filled excitement wore off.

The thrill of this renewed game of cat and mouse begins to wane as the realization of having no idea where Primo was hiding hits you. Perching precariously on top of a tree stump a few feet away allows you to stick your head above the top of the maze, hunting the hunter. Without the sight of any movement to give away his location, you settle on swiveling around to see if any route to the finish line can be found. If you kept testing your luck pushing through the walls it would be almost a straight shot, but the noise of doing so is a dead give away itself. A blurred flash of red in the corner of your eye freezes you in place, the wood beneath your feet now more like a sticky glue trap than a look out as you rapidly cycle through your options.

Now that your research time had been cut short, simply memorizing the path to freedom seemed as good of a bet as any and you hop back down to the ground as quietly as possible while repeating the directions to yourself. Left, straight, right, left, straight, then right once more. Then you were done. You win. You would win and could hold it over Papa’s head, gloat a little, see what you could get away with and the possibilities brought a blush to your cheeks.

Getting through the first three intersections was easy enough, effortless, even considering the way your lungs were practically begging for relief once more. Your wits returned after that second left turn and an eerie quiet washed over the fields once more. With how quickly the nagging feeling of being watched was building you nearly expected Primo to pop out from right behind you once more. The once gentle autumn wind had built into what felt more like a glacial freeze as the sun went down while the only sources lighting your path now was the strings of small bulbs hung through the sides of the maze. It was getting harder and harder to differentiate between the rustle of a breeze and foot steps creeping up on you.

All of 50 feet and one more turn was all that was separating you from victory but it still felt a world away from where you stood in place like a statue, fervently wringing your hands and listening to the chatter of drunken festival goers that were beginning to drown out any hope of pinning down the location of your Papa. Keep going straight. One more right turn.

A few stalks of corn being violently shaken roused your attention back into the real world, the sound carried through at least a few turns, hopefully. He was trying to weed you out, scare you out of the corn with enough noise to make you think he had found you. The threat was enough to jolt you back into movement, sprinting on through the intersection and hanging that very last turn in the matter of a minute.

Rows of glowing Jack-o-lanterns with crooked expressions marked the approach to the exit and a preemptive smug sense of confidence took over you. You slowed down as the crowd’s noise filtered back in, gleeful couples of love birds and groups of people passing by the tiki torches that were lit at the end of the path. One young teenager even stopped to cheer for you as she saw you approach, clapping her hands and whooping dramatically before her face contorted into a grimace. Did you really look that rough? Sure that run through the corn probably did a number on you but you couldn’t look that bad..

As quickly as that confidence had appeared, it went up in flames in an instant when the air was drained from your lungs in a vice grip. Greedy fingers latched onto your sides as you stumbled backwards with a swift yank of your weight.

“Caught you, amore.” A familiar growl rumbled like thunder in your ear and sent a trembling shiver down your spine as his body pressed against you.

“You’re mine.”

if Secondo was a type of parrot, which would he be 🗿

I had to research some parrots for this. There’s nanday parakeets which aesthetically make me think of Secondo being mostly green with a black hood marking over their head but most parrot species, assuming they’ve been raised well, are pretty social and affectionate animals. Some say that Pionus parrots are much more independent than others and will typically be more reserved except with chosen close people, so maybe that?

But since we’re talking about Secondo and birds… I’d like to introduce y’all to the King Vulture, scientific name Sarcoramphus papa, inspired by the Latin Papa for bishop as their plumage resembles that of one’s dress. It is bald with a small patch of colorful feathers and the species is minimally sexually dimorphic which means there are minimal differences between the appearance of males and females ( <—genderqueer Secondo believer)

In Mayan mythology these birds were believed to be messengers of the gods or to be a god themselves and often were depicted as gods with a human body and bird head. Historically, it’s blood and feathers were often used in medicines and remedies.

:)

I love that he would be a earth ghoul and a gargoyle as a monster. It might just be me but gargoyles are very earth-y, you know? Created out of stone and such. Does Secondo being a gargoyle have something to do with the symbolization that they're creatures from hell and part human and part monster or they're symbolization of "guardianship" and to ward off evil spirits?

I definitely think of it as both! They’re an all around really perfect creature counter part to him, imo. Ties elemental connections, spiritual symbolism, and personality traits all together and it can’t get much better than that.

There’s also an old “origin” story of gargoyles, I believe it came from early Christianity, of a Saint attacking the gargoyle of a cloister. Upon resisting capture, the Saint poised its head on the outside wall of their church to make an example of their prowess and to ward off spirits from the building.

I think it makes for an interesting parallel to the common HC that the Ministry demoted and made an example of the previous Papas, both tearing down figures of their own faith to illustrate a point. Gargoyles are thought to have been modeled after Pagan symbols and used to entice (or scare) them into converting to Catholicism via familiarity meanwhile the Papas lead a project to recruit a larger following while imitating Christian symbolism.

New Face Paint

Secondo x Reader || Halloween Ficlet

no beta we die like men, SFW :) I chose a new theme for my Fall Festival with the Papas collection and just thought this was too nice to rot in my WIP folder

A trail of crimson trickled from a razor edged canine perched atop an even row of teeth, fixed together in a menacing snarl. One piercingly white eye stared back at you in the dull light with a gaze that intended to bore its way into your own soul, at least until the beast rolled its eyes in irritation that is.

“Is this really necessary?”

“The silence is not scary anymore! You need to practice!” An exasperated sigh heaves its way from your chest. Weeks had already been spent begging Secondo to consider playing a more active role in the haunted house; to trade in his traditional silent scare tactics in favor of a more active approach. There was no time for him to chicken out now.

“Need I remind you, most of the Siblings already find me quite terrifying. I could stand stock still, staring, and they would turn tail and run. Which is what I do best.” His objections were quickly dismissed with a wave of your hand followed by a gentle push on his shoulders to lead him back to sitting in front of the mirrored vanity so you could adjust his make up once more.

“You are not terrifying, amore mío. But you do stare. A lot.” You reminded him with a playful squeeze of the apple of his cheek which only earned a groan underneath his breath. Your lips pursed together as you stared down at him in search of what aspect was still amiss from his costume make up. Already you had been pretty proud of what you had applied to his face. Larger faux canines affixed to his own, dribbling over his chin with fake blood, along with a stitching affect crossing over his face, opening over the top left side of his skull to expose spiraling sections of brain matter you had painted on painstakingly over the course of two hours.

“You are simply easy to stare at.” The purred flirtation combined with Secondo’s arms creeping around to encircle your torso was nearly enough to distract you from the task at hand. Credit where credit is due, the man was relentless and had almost gotten his way. Almost.

Smudged Mirrors

|| Tl;dr Morning routine softness with Secondo. :) This is just an older work from my ao3 that I thought I would bring over here!

There are many terrible things in this world. The shrill blare of an alarm clock ripping you from your dreams among the worst offenders. Waking to find that the bed has already gone empty and cold, another. The entire room felt quiet and solemn as if it too was mourning the absence of your beloved. The thick blankets quickly grew too cold to be comfortable any longer and remnants of sleep still clung to your senses as you slowly sat up with a renewed dedication to seek out a new source of warmth.

The scent of spiced soap and a lingering mist from the shower wafted through the partially open bathroom door, a testament to Secondo’s stubborn refusal to sleep in on nearly any day. It was a gentle reminder of the countless mornings when you had woken up together, the sound of falling water mingling with laughter and shared tenderness.

After attempting to gather your thoughts, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and made your way towards the bathroom, the rhythmic sound of falling water growing louder with each step. The antique wooden wardrobe looked untouched as you passed by it. You paused to pull out Secondo’s Papal robes and the cassock he often preferred to wear underneath before folding them neatly on the bed and continuing on. Upon pushing the door open, you were met with the sight of steam billowing around the room, cloaking the space in a misty haze.

“I may be aging but I’m not deaf yet. I can still hear your attempts to sneak up on me, amore mio.” Even with his back turned towards you, you could hear the smirk in his voice despite his stern tone. Water droplets still dribbled over his skin as he moved while the steam swirled around him, seemingly dancing in tune with a silent melody.

“I would’ve thought all those concerts would’ve done you in.”

Secondo paid no mind to your witty comment, instead continuing on as if he hadn’t been interrupted at all.

“Were you sleeping well? You didn’t budge when I got up.”

“I was. That is until I was left alone in the arctic cold of silk sheets.” Your retort came with maybe a little more sass than necessary as you lifted yourself to sit on the counter.

Secondo hummed softly, the deep rumble building in his chest as he leaned over to thread his fingers through your messy bed head.

“Hmmm. I suspect you’ll survive, you appear plenty lively to me.” His words were muffled against your hair as he pressed a kiss on the top of your head. For once you decided to remain quiet when you felt him smile against you.

After a few silent minutes, Secondo pulled away to return to his routine and you quickly grew bored. You twisted around, leaning in closer to the water covered mirror and reached a hand out to draw a shape against its reflective surface. Only after you had placed your initials next to a small heart were you interrupted.

“Those stay there, you know. Smudges, after the fog is gone.” He grumbled softly before swiping a razor against his cheek once more. His eyes only flickered to you before refocusing on the task of shaving. The dedication to precision and attention to detail were always present, even in the simplest of moments. A roll of your eyes was the only reaction you gave in to. Secondo had always been much more of a perfectionist, although it was admittedly respectable.

Pulling back from the mirror, you gracefully slipped off your perch on the counter and moved closer to him, pressing a kiss against each freshly shaven cheek. The morning routine had become a dance between the two of you, a choreography of sweet gestures and affectionate exchanges.

“Are you absolutely sure you need to go to work? And so early?” It was the same familiar question you asked him at least once a week, and that tiny sliver of hope in your voice that the ever so serious older man would take off work remained every time.

“Si, I am entirely sure. Has my answer ever changed?” Secondo’s unfaltering response only prompts you to lean back against his shoulder and clasp your hands to your chest, feigning being fatally wounded. There is a sigh at your dramatics, a kiss pressed against your temple before being waved off once more.

“You have your own work to attend to, piantagrane. Go.” You finally accepted being shooed off after a few more lingering kisses, good byes murmured softly in each other's ears before leaving the former Papa be to finish getting ready for the day yourself.

By the time you had returned to the bathroom with the intention of using up all the remaining hot water for yourself, Secondo was gone from the room. As to be expected, but still disappointing. While setting your own towels down atop the granite counter, you couldn’t help but to glance back at the small smears you had earlier left along the surface of the mirror. Papa was right, the fog had dissipated and left behind streaks of smudging. Except now it was impossible to ignore the small, cursive initials ‘S.E’ that had appeared opposite of your own.

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 I’m the Terzo and Copia

…things

Bone daddy is so fine

Daily Dose of Daddy Secondo

🖤

I’ve seen this uncensored 🥲

today, 11 years ago, in 2013, the Year Zero mv was released for the first time‼️