Every Secondo X Reader Fic Has The Reader Being Submissive, I Just Want To Dominate That Stupid Old Man

Every secondo x reader fic has the reader being submissive, I just want to dominate that stupid old man

Tobias doin all this cause we kept calling him Tax Fraud 😩

im unbelievably speechless-

U tickle my pickle. But also any Papa of choice with a mix of: 10, 52, 86?

UwU ywu twickle mwy pwickle 💚

And here’s some Popia pickle for you too

So I got way more of these prompts than I was expecting. I'll try and do as many as I can, and will post them over the next few weeks as daily drabbles 🖤

Papa Emeritus iv x afab!Reader || Smut Drabble || NSFW || MDNI || Caught masturbating || Edging || P in V || Wc: 700

[I'll put the three specific dialogue prompts in bold so people know which they are]

"Look at you, squirming under me, all flushed and pretty looking. Can't even take a little teasing, can you?”

Copia is right. You can’t. Not right now at least. But to be fair, you had already been teetering on the edge of imminent orgasm when he’d burst into your room.

His dark leather gloves creak as he tightens his fingers around your wrists – pinned as they are to the mattress above your head. Your hands flex uselessly, still slick with damning evidence of exactly what he had interrupted.

Your mind is reeling. Attempting to process the sheer mortification of having been caught mid-wank by the very object of your masturbatory desires, whilst simultaneously trying desperately to understand exactly what in Lilith’s tits has just happened. One second Papa Emeritus iv had been standing in your doorway, wide-eyed and slack jawed, his dark rimmed gaze locked upon the fingers buried knuckle deep between your quivering thighs. And the next moment, before you’d even had a chance to utter any sort of apology, he’d been stalking across the room towards you with razor purpose, one hand already working at the laced front of his pants.

And now he’s on top of you. Streaked hairs falling forwards to tickle your brow, and paints a sweaty, post-ritual mess as he slides the shaft of his cock back and forth through your soaking folds. Each taunting little rock of his hips has you writhing beneath him, chest hitching with panting breaths. 

He knows exactly what he’s doing; offering only enough friction to keep the promise of release dangling just out of reach. There’s a dark satisfaction in his dual-gaze that’s so very different from the docile, amiable man you’re used to seeing around the Ministry.

His flushed, leaking glans nudges at your engorged clit, dragging a long, low moan from you.

“Così vocale,” he murmurs appreciatively, “Did you think that no-one would hear you, eh? That your Papa would not hear you crying out for him so sweetly?”

He shifts himself higher, your pinned wrists sinking deeper into the blankets beneath the press of his weight. A desperate little hiccup catches in your throat as his balls press against your sopping cunt, and the hot weight of his cock slides up to rest on your lower stomach.

“You see, dolce? How deep I could bury myself inside you? Much better than your fingers, no?”

Your blood runs molten, and you can barely draw breath before your lungs force all air back out, “Puh–please, Papa please—”

He shifts his hips, and his cockhead leaves a glistening trail down your stomach as he drags himself back towards your pussy. He catches at your entrance, and holds himself poised. 

Your resolve snaps, but your clumsy attempt to impale yourself upon his length is thwarted when he swiftly transfers his grip on your wrists into one hand, freeing the other to pin your pelvis. Tears of sheer desperation prick at the corners of your eyes, and you squeeze them closed.

“Look at me,” Copia’s command is firm and even-toned, and it has your cunt fluttering around nothing. But you obey. How can you not? 

You blink rapidly to clear the blur from your vision, and succeed just in time to witness black painted lips curl up into a sinful smirk.

“Molto bene,” he praises, circling a leather-clad thumb into your hip bone, “Now listen to me, and let me tell you what I want.”

“Anything. Anything—”

“Remember how you were calling for your Papa just now?”

“Y-yes, ye—”

Your mouth falls open as he finally, finally sinks inside you, and from your lips tumbles a moan of pure, blissful relief. The inch-by-inch stretch of him ratchets the fever in your veins to dizzying heights from which you’re destined to plummet, and soon.

He begins to fuck you, slow and thorough.

“I want you to say my name like that again,” Copia growls between each long, smooth thrust, “But more than that, Cara mio. I–hng, I wanna see how you look when you come undone under me.”

You obey.

How can you not?

respectfully drooling

🖤😈🖤Happy Valentine's, Children of Sin🖤😈🖤

I'm happy to finally be able to share the final illust for the "Pin Me Up" calendar project hosted by @walaskart! - Thank you so much for having me! It was wonderful working with everyone involved!💕

I will be sharing details about how to get yourself a digital copy of this calendar soon! all proceeds will go to charity!

In the meantime - Papa is waiting for you~

now, every time i zone out, i hear imperator say « are you zoning out ? » before snapping out of my trance 😟

IM TEARING UP CRYING AND VOMITING ON THE FLOOR PLS TOBIAS NOT COPIA NOT HIM NOT MY BBYGIRL