#papa emeritus iv x reader

[quaildoodle]

I just really like the theory of copia becomeing more and more unhinged and paranoid bc he fears his inevitable demise :3c

[dantesunbreaker]

Cold Cuddles with the Papas(Headcanons)

No warnings apply, just some tooth rotting fluff from our favorite old men!

Primo 

As the eldest brother, it is safe to assume his circulation isn’t as great as it once was. Thus, blankets and warm fuzzy socks are always in abundance with Primo

When you approach him complaining about the cold, Primo is pulling out a pair of double layer socks before you have even finished getting the words out

If he still has work that needs his attendance, Primo will usher you both to the loveseat in his office. An end table will be pulled up to use as a desk, blanket wrapped around you both so you can nestle against him for warmth

But when there is no work to be done, Primo will brew a nice hot pot of tea for you both to share

Together you retire to his chambers where the heat is always turned up to the perfect comfortable temperature

Always takes up the chance to put you in one of his older sweaters because Primo loves the sight of your sleepy face while bundled up in his clothing

If even all of that does little to fight off the could, Primo will sit and cuddle with you beneath a layer of thick blankets until you are warm enough

Your favorite is the occasions where this turns your evening into soft warm cuddles the rest of the day and sharing some delicious soup made with vegetables from Primo’s garden

Secondo

Seems very much like a tough love kind of guy. First response when you come to him complaining about the cold is “well damn, I can’t control the weather”

But a quick flash of the puppy dogs is all it takes to change Secondo’s tune

If you are outside together and you begin to shiver, Secondo will groan, but always will offer up his coat. Pretends he walks with his arm around you to further keep you warm, but you know it because he also feels the cold

When inside and you mention being cold, Secondo simply offers to turn up the heater. 

He often takes things for face value, so either prepare to work for it if you want cuddles from him or simply be blunt about it. No matter the method, you end up getting what you want. 

Sometimes, when you can’t manage to pull him away from his work, you will rest on his lap with a blanket pulled snug around your shoulders as he continues going through paperwork

Other times Secondo will take the time to sit down and relax with you lounging under a throw blanket together in his office

Offers to make you something hot to drink, whether it be coffee, tea, or even hot chocolate. 

Don’t tell his brothers, but he loves when you pick hot chocolate because he uses it as an excuse to also indulge in the delicious chocolatey drink

Terzo

Most likely to be over dramatic about the situation, and also most likely to be equally as affected by the temperature

Do not expect Terzo to offer his coat! “But the outfit was planned around the coat! Taking it off will ruin the look!” He will however walk with an arm around  you, pulled tight against his side so that you can share his body heat

Getting Terzo to accomplish any work when it is cold is a difficult task, but you don’t want him getting in MORE trouble with Sister Imperator

So cold mornings you find yourself accompanying Terzo throughout his day, hot drinks always in hand, warm coats and blankets at the ready constantly

You will stand behind his chair, arms around him with blanket hanging over so that you can wrap him up in your loving warmth as you coax him to get through at least half the stack of papers on his desk

But when Terzo does not have work, expect an extravagant yet cozy night ahead of you

Expertly gets the fireplace going, all the lights off so only the firelit illuminates the room. Absolutely has a huge furry rug in front of the fireplace, which is where you spend the evening cuddling with dozens of pillows and extra blankets

Special occasions you can also expect to share some mulled wine as you bask in the warmth of the fire together, tangled up in each other’s limbs

Copia

Always one to worry, Copia will instantly be fretting over you if you mention being cold around him

Before you can even say anything else, Copia is pressing the back of his hand to your forehead to check for a fever followed by rapid fire questions asking if you are feeling ill

Takes a couple of minutes to settle him down enough to explain that you aren’t sick, you are just a bit chilly and in need of some Copia cuddles

Worry is quickly replaced with affection, throwing his arms around you and holding you tight against his chest. “Oh! Why didn’t you just say so!”

Often one to work too hard, Copia however will set aside his work in these kind of occasions

The couch in his office always has a rather thick throw blanket on it, strategically left by you entirely for the purpose for when you have days like this

Copia will get you both nice steaming cups of hot chocolate, mini marshmallows included!

Both of you curl up together on the couch, blanket thrown over your laps as you carefully sip on your drinks and talk about whatever comes to mind

On some occasions you fall asleep against him, and Copia absolutely refuses to wake you from such a pleasant slumber. So, he instead he simply does his best to complete whatever work he can from the couch until you eventually wake up on your own

[ghulehunknown]

Papa Headcanons - 🐱👅

WARNING!! - NSFW

All the Papas love going down, but they each have their own style

Primo

Prefers to get you nice and worked up, so he’ll spend a painfully long time kissing and caressing you before actually going down on you (so when he does use his tongue it feels explosive)

Says “My, my aren’t we a wet little thing?” everytime, knowing FULL WELL he did that to you

Soft and slow, very gentle

Long, painted strokes along your entire area

Massages your breasts while flicking his tongue around your clit

Uses his thumb to rub circles on your clit to give his mouth a break but doesn’t stop until you’ve cum at least once or twice, preferably in his mouth

Secondo

Roughly fingers you while eating you out

Spreads your legs wide so he can eat every inch of you

Loves to eat you from behind so he can finger your ass too

Grabs onto your legs and hips so he can pull your body closer to him

Wants to take his time and edges you - so he’ll alternate by doing other forms of foreplay (sucking on your nipples or pinching them, making out, fingering you)

Praises you (“brava ragazza”) for being so patient as he takes his time torturing you (“You will be rewarded, tesorina”)

Wants to do all the work so he’ll scold you if you start to grind against him

Loves to see his Papal paints smeared all over your thighs

Massages your ass and tits while eating you out

Terzo

Would die happy drowned in pussy

Wears the smell of you like a badge of honor the whole day

Desperate to eat your arousal and drink you if you squirt

In fact it’s a little game he plays with himself, to see if he can make you squirt (he’s almost always successful)

Dying to get you off this way before he fucks you hard into the mattress

LOVES when you ride his face; he wants to be smothered and barely able to breathe

Also into 69ing - you on top or laying on your sides

Favorite cunnilingus position is you on your back with your legs spread and one hooked over his shoulder while he finger fucks you and sucks your clit

Massages your g-spot when he knows you’re close to cumming

Darts his tongue in and out of your hole a lot (“Amore, how could I waste a single drop of you?”)

Suctions/sucks on your clit a lot and alternates that, flicking his tongue, and using the flat part of his tongue

While each papa has their talents and are very good at doing down, Terzo is the Prince of Cunnilingus - a cunt connoisseur, if you will

Immediately wants to kiss you during (so you can see how aroused he’s made you) and after because sometimes he’s sweet like that

Usually wants to fuck right after you’ve cum (while you’re still breathing heavily)

Copia

Kisses every inch of you

Moans as soon as he has you in his mouth; he can cum just from eating you out (pathetic little rat man)

Can’t help it and will stroke himself while going down on you, unless you have him tied up (to punish him for being a dirty, needy man)

Loves being submissive to you while pleasuring you - either kneeling underneath you while you’re standing or sitting on the edge of the bed/couch, or tied up to the bedpost while you ride his face

Wants to be used like your sex toy

Would gladly spend all day down there as long as you’re getting off

Heard somewhere that spelling the alphabet with his tongue will get you off, so he does that and stops at whichever letter or motion gets the loudest response

He’s got a little bit of washing machine syndrome going on - very sloppy and all over the place at times

Finds a steady rhythm, position, and stroke and sticks to it because if it always works why change it

Listens to your breathing get heavier and stays consistent with his speed and motion when you grip his hair and tell him “don’t stop!”

Wants to cuddle you after and kiss you and feed you snacks (one time he hand fed you fruit snacks while he was down there)

[earthry]

Papas Accidentally Being Too Rough in Bed (Headcanons)

I have no clue where this spawned from but please enjoy scaring the Papas when they’re accidentally too rough with you and then doing everything they can to make up for it.

mostly sfw, tw for being rough on accident, possessiveness, hurt/comfort.

Primo

It’s wild because you didn’t think Primo could get that rough in bed, given his age. But there are bruises that he apologizes for after, ones he kisses with each apology. He brings out a special cream and gently applies it to the abused skin.

He makes you stay in bed while he pampers you, grabbing yummy snacks and making a cup of your favorite tea. He even hand feeds you, babying you until you tell him that really, you’re okay. You are showered in apologies and words of love and reassurance before being wrapped up into his arms and snuggled to death.

Secondo

Secondo thinks you’re whining to be bratty but when his belt comes away with blood, he’s never dropped anything so fast. He’s quick to untie you, cursing and apologizing profusely. He assesses the damage with worry, grabbing a warm damp towel to clean your backside.

He gently shushes you when you whimper from the sting, kissing your temple and telling you that you’re doing so, so good for him. After sanitizing and bandaging the wound, he’ll clean the two of you up and pull you into his arms in a tight embrace— though he’s careful of your injury.

Apologizes for hurting you, promising that he hadn’t meant to and that it was his fault for misjudging how much strength he was using. You tell him you forgive him and he almost cries— you let him spoil you for the rest of the night and weeks to follow.

Terzo

It’s more of an accident than anything, for how clumsy Terzo is. He’s so eager in bed to please you and make you feel good that when he’s going down on you, he accidentally slams you against the bed frame a little too forcefully. You can’t help the involuntary sound of pain that escapes you and things happen so quickly because next thing you know, you’re in Terzo’s shaking arms as he begs for forgiveness, frantically checking if you’re badly hurt.

After he checks your backside to see that there’s a little bruising he apologizes even more and places the most gentlest of kisses against your skin. You are bundled up in blankets and love afterwards and since then, Terzo’s been very careful when it comes to sexy times.

Copia

With Copia it’s also unexpected but for different reasons. Though he’s certainly enthusiastic in bed, he’s always been gentle and very attentive to pleasing you. While he can get rough every so often, it’s still tame compared to most. He’s a very considerate lover, always checking in, always making sure he’s not gripping you too hard, not holding you too tight.

You didn’t expect him to have such a jealous streak however— despite wanting to tease him. It was Swiss’s idea to flirt with each other to rile him up, which definitely does the trick. And oh boy is it a night to remember. He’s intense and possessive, growling as he fucks you hard, his words melting together as he tells you that you’re his, that he’s going to show you that no one can fuck you better than him, will love you better.

You’re left with bruises on your hips and dark hickies littering your skin. You would laugh at Copia’s expression if it wasn’t so horrified. You reassure him that you enjoyed it, that it was what you wanted. Still, he apologizes and cares for you after— running a bath for you and tenderly helping you wash your hair, gently running fingers over the bruises he’s made. He still looks so guilty but it’s okay because you kiss it all better until he’s out of breath.

[writingjourney]

Late Night Reading

Your Papa spends his evening reading about Roman cults – perhaps you can tempt him to offer you some of his attention instead.

pairing: Papa Emeritus IV x female!reader || rated: E

content: 3.6k words, (mostly soft) dom!copia, thigh riding, finger sucking, cockwarming, praise, p in v, riding, teasing, orgasm denial, unprotected, coming inside, suggestive use of a history book, 18+ only

Shoutout to @ghelullu for the historical expertise and to @foxybouquet for drawing reading glasses Copia for me that definitely helped inspire this fic!!

Masterlist – Ao3 link

The sheets feel soft against your skin as you stretch out on the bed like a lazy cat. You run your fingers over the fabric, a deep blue cotton that hugs your body as you roll from your belly onto your back. His side still carries his smell and the sigh that leaves you at this discovery is filled with a longing that has the sound vibrating in your throat.

Copia pays you no mind.

For an hour now he’s been sitting comfortably in an armchair, book in his lap and reading glasses perched on his strong nose. He is lost in the story, his eyes moving along the lines rapidly and with visible interest. The glass of red wine he’s been drinking tonight sits abandoned on a table by the side and the vinyl record hasn’t been flipped in quite some time; only the static noise of the record player fills the room.

You rise from the sheets and walk over to the music station on naked feet, slipping the record back into its sleeve to pick another. Copia has a vast collection and you take your time, glancing at him from the corner of your eye in hopes that your half-naked body, clad in just your sleeping shirt, will catch his attention. However, even as you place the needle on the record and soft 80s rock tunes fill the room his eyes stay on the pages of his book.

He looks handsome, you note. The glasses almost slip from his nose with how low he wears them, smudging the white paint where they sit tight by his nostrils. His hair is a bit messier now at the end of the day. A loose strand has fallen over his forehead and tickles his brow, the curve casting a small shadow on his skin under the light of his reading lamp. You fight the urge to brush it back and kiss the spot, lingering by the shelf to assess whether you can finally justify disturbing him.

Copia turns the page. You tiptoe over, hip pushing against the armrest by his side. He must notice you but he gives no indication of it as you trail your fingers over his shoulder, then down his arm. His black shirt stands open at the collar and you get a glimpse of his thick greying chest hair as well as the curve of his firm pectorals underneath the fabric. You want to kiss him there, too.

“Papa,” you try.

“Hm?”

He does not look up, even though the use of his title is enough information as to your intent. With your heart hammering you sink down and kneel beside him, resting your head on his thigh. The fabric of his pants feels rough against your soft cheek. Even so Copia continues to read, his eyes never straying from the page, ignoring your puppy-eyed face right next to the book. You can’t help but pout. Impatient fingers run down his calf, then up to his knee on the other side but your touch lures no reaction from him either.

You move to stand, let your fingers run down his forearm and grasp his wrist, lifting it out of the way so you can place yourself in his lap, once more the image of a needy cat vying for attention. Copia hardly reacts, only lifts the book out of the way while still fixated on the page. You shift until you’re sitting more comfortably, feeling his thighs flex underneath your weight until they press firmly against your ass. You feel his cock too, half-hard beneath the lacings of his pants.

“What are you reading?” you ask this time, nestling against him. Your head rests on his shoulder as you try to get a glimpse of his book.

“It is a book on the Mithraic Mysteries,” he explains, his voice steady and calm. “A very fascinating read. Not much of the Cult of Mithra survived, no written texts anyway.”

“Who is Mithra?” you inquire, only half-focussing on his words now that you finally feel him against you.

“An old Indo-European deity, worshipped by Roman soldiers. Some surviving depictions show him killing a bull, sacrificing the blood and seed to replenish the world and life itself.” His free hand moves to rest on your thigh, the black glove soft on your bare skin. “However, the cultists were persecuted by Christians and ultimately eliminated. Their places of worship, the mithraea, were destroyed.”

“That does sound interesting… and sad,” you conclude, taking in his scent with a deep inhale before you press a kiss to his neck. “Is it more interesting than me?”

“Oh, amore. Of course it is not.” His hand moves further up your leg until it rests on your ass, pushing your shirt up a little higher to squeeze the soft meat there. “Have I not given you enough attention, tonight, my baby?”

You shake your head, pressing your face against his neck as you hug him closer.

“Amore, if you want something you have to ask for it,” he says. “You know this.”

“I did not wish to disturb you. You were so engrossed in your read.”

“And yet here you are, no? Disturbing me.”

You break away to look at him, his face betraying nothing even though you swear you can see the hint of a teasing smile playing at his lips. Encouraged, you reach for his free hand and drag it into your lap, running your thumb over his wrist where his pulse starts to beat a little faster against your fingertip. You lift his hand to your lips, pressing kisses to the tender skin just where his glove ends.

Copia finally reacts, his fingers curling around your cheek and tilting your chin up. His eyebrows are pulled together, giving him a stern expression with the glasses still sitting so low on his nose. You giggle, the image of a teacher who glances at his students in irritation as they interrupt him popping into your head. Perhaps you will be rebuked now.

“Funny, hm?” he asks.

Before you can reply he pushes his index finger into your mouth, gently pressing down on your tongue until you obediently start to suck. The leather is smooth, making your mouth water, and you swirl your tongue around him languidly. Copia holds your gaze as he adds a second finger, his thumb resting on your chin where he wipes away the drool that dribbles from the corner of your mouth. After a moment of indulgence he withdraws them as well as his gaze and uses the wetted digits to turn the page without another word.

His attention is on the book again.

You release a sigh of discontent but he’s ignoring it just like he’s ignoring how you squirm in his lap. You can feel how wet you are between your thighs, your underwear soaked by now.

“Papa,” you whine. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“I need you.”

“You have me, demonietta, now that you wiggled your naughty little butt into my lap.” He glances at you from the corner of his eyes, no doubt taking in your desperate expression and unable to keep up his austerity for much longer. “Va bene. You have permission to use me as long as you do not disturb my reading. If you do, there will be consequences.”

“I won’t. I promise, Papa.”

He nods and his eyes land on the book again, his upper body angled in the direction of the lamp on his side table away from you. You reposition yourself until you can feel his thigh firm against your core, using his chest as leverage. Not a single one of his muscles moves to help you. Once you’re settled you have to readjust his free hand on your hip to make more room, smooth leather once more on your heated skin. As you slowly start to grind on his leg you feel his fingers tightening but he does not look, does not stir.

It feels incredible. The fabric of his jeans is rough against your inner thighs, the friction so needed that you can’t help but close your eyes and moan at the pressure against your clit. You repeat the same movement, slow drags of your hips to the rhythm of the music playing in the background. Hands planted firmly on his chest you feel his muscles against your palm and every time you push yourself back they flex underneath your fingertips.

You’re approaching your release fast after that – more confident movements, the perfect angle to ignite a fire deep inside your belly. The rolls of your hips become sloppy, your knee pushing forward into his crotch as you release a needy whimper, and then suddenly Copia’s fingers dig into your hips, effectively stopping you.

“Ah ah.” He tuts, his eyes snapping in your direction with a frown. “No, no, no, amore. Not like this. What did I fucking tell you, eh?”

A painful sob rips from your throat, your pussy throbbing desperately at the sudden lack of stimulation. “Papa?”

“Do you think I can read when you are dripping all over my leg? When you are moaning into my ear with the voice of a temptress?”

“I’m sorry, Papa. You just feel so good.”

His expression softens, his fingers unclenching. “Gentle now, hm? We are not in a hurry.”

You shake your head, your breathing still fast as you try to recover. “Will you help me, Papa?”

“Help? But you interrupted me,” he says with indignation. “What did I tell you happens when you interrupt me, amore?”

“There will be consequences.”

“Brava ragazza, listening so well to my words. If only you would heed them, hm?” He rubs his hand along your thigh, soothing, comforting. “Now unlace me, demonietta, so I can decide how to proceed with you.”

His cock strains against the fabric and you fiddle with the laces, your fingers still shaky from the almost-peak that he robbed you of. Once you finally loosen them, the pressure does the rest and you can free him easily even with your tremor. He’s achingly hard, dripping precome into your waiting hand. You want to lean down and taste him but you know he is in charge now and it thrills you to comply, to be good for him.

“Take off your underwear,” he orders. “Then you will keep me nice and warm for as long as it takes me to finish this chapter, hm? You want to please your Papa, do you not?”

 “Always,” you say as you slip from his lap, driven by the anticipation of finally feeling him inside of you.

The fabric is drenched as you remove it from your core and throw it aside. Copia’s arms remain open, hips slotted forward to allow you some more room, and you hover above him for a moment. You take his cock into your hand and slide it back and forth between your folds, wetting his tip with your arousal. Copia moans lowly at the contact, the pages of the book fluttering as his body trembles underneath yours with suppressed desire.

“So wet and needy,” he chides. “You want your Papa so bad it makes you forget that he is a very busy man, amore. I only have so much time to do my reading.”

“Perhaps you should read to me in the future, Papa,” you suggest, slowly sinking down on him. The stretch knocks the air right out of your lungs, his girth a welcome intrusion after so much time you spent waiting. A groan slips from his throat once he is fully sheathed, betraying the way he is affected as well.

“Hm, no, dolcezza, if anything you should read to me,” he says through gritted teeth. “So your Papa can rest his weary eyes. I am not so young anymore.”

“You are in your best years, my Papa,” you correct and begin to rock your hips.

Copia’s hand shoots out to grab you, digging roughly into the softness with the strength it takes him to stop you. “Ah ah ah,” he chides with a shake of his head, the glasses now crooked on his nose. “You stay still while I finish this chapter or I will remove you, amore. You know the rules, eh?”

You whimper, clenching around him not just in frustration but in arousal at his tone. With one hand you adjust his reading glasses, the other one rests on the soft curve of his belly underneath his shirt, trying to keep still. Every breath is laborious, every second too long.

“Very good, amore,” Copia praises and then his eyes are back on his book.

His cock pulses inside of you or maybe you are pulsing around him, the need to move so overwhelming you can’t stop the occasional whimper from slipping out, nor can you control the way your hips buck ever so slightly on their own accord. You’re not sure how he can focus, if he focuses at all or tortures you for his own enjoyment. His eyes do move along the lines and you spend a good amount of time studying them, green and white, slightly enlarged by his glasses. No matter how well he plays his part as the stern Papa, the mischievous, loving glint in them never leaves.

You can’t fight the urge to fix his hair, finally combing the loose strand back and massaging his temple. Copia lets out an appreciative hum, pressing his head into your hand. You take the hint and move your fingers along his scalp, gentle pressure to remove the tension of a long day. His hair is soft as you trace the silver streaks that become more and more prominent the longer you two are together.

His hand leaves your hip then to flip the page. You can’t help but squirm, the movement sending a wave of pleasure through your body that makes you keen and clench around him. It’s too much, you are too aware of his cock buried so deep inside of you to keep still. All you want to do is lose yourself in him, to have his undivided attention.

Copia inhales sharply at your fidgeting, in irritation or arousal you cannot tell. His hand reaches for your jaw, tilting it so that your eyes meet his. Instead of anger you find compassion in his gaze, even though there is a hint of complacency as well. “My poor amore,” he says, his tone only partly mocking. “I am not quite done yet. But I think you will have to read the next page for me. My eyes are so tired.”

“But–”

“You are so good for me, dolcezza,” he interrupts, leaning in to nuzzle your nose. “If you do well now your Papa will reward you for your patience.”

Before you can close the gap for a kiss he leans back again and hands you the book, pointing to a line at the top of the page. You try to catch your bearings, especially when you feel his cock twitching inside of you as he shifts to remove his reading glasses. A whimper turns into a croak, your throat suddenly tight and dry.

“In the– the–” You struggle as he once again stirs underneath you, settling comfortably in the armchair with both hands on the armrests. He is enjoying your struggle, a barely concealed grin on his lips. You clear your throat, take a deep breath and relax your muscles. “In the ancient world, the term mysteries was used to refer to secret cults throughout the period from the seventh century BC to the fourth century AD.”

“Very good, amore,” Copia says, voice smooth and sensual. “The next line now, hm? You are doing so well.”

“A-all shared two basic features: the injunction to silence, intended to… intended to prohibit ritual details reaching the outside world, and the…” Suddenly his hips buck, both of his hands settling on your sides to keep you steady as he pushes up into you with one hard thrust. Your eyes flutter closed, the book slipping from your fingers as you hold onto his shoulders.

“Go on,” he orders. “Finish the line. I know you can do it, amore.”

You open your eyes, trying to find the page again and holding the book open with one hand. It takes you a moment to find the right line. You’re trembling and dizzy. “The-the injunction to silence, intended to prohibit ritual details reaching the outside world, and the promise of… the promise of salvation...”

“Mhm, salvation,” he agrees, another thrust that finally has the book falling shut between your bodies and sliding into the gap between his thighs and the armrest. “Everyone wants salvation, ragazza mia, everyone wants release. Do you?”

“Yes, please, Papa.”

Copia grabs the book and sets it aside, feet braced against the floor and hips canted in a way that allows you to fully straddle him. You rest your hands on his chest and stare down at where your bodies join, the sliver of skin and dark body hair between his shirt and waistband glistening wetly with your arousal. Impatient now, you rip at the buttons of his shirt to tear it open, trying to find purchase on his bare skin, anything to feel more of him. His warmth radiates into your palms and then his hands curl around your buttocks as he lifts you just enough to shallowly fuck up into you. You moan, falling forward from the impact until your fronts are squished together.

“Papa,” you whine.

“Hmmmm, sei perfetta, amore mio,” he whispers, lips parted in concentration as he keeps up his pace. “I am proud of you, eh? So patient, waiting all night for your busy old Papa.”

You lean in, stealing his breath as you desperately press your mouth to his. The armchair creaks just as your lips connect and the wet sounds of your hips meeting over and over fill the room, drowning out the soft music. You follow his rhythm instead, pushing down and taking him ever deeper, controlling the angle with which he burrows into you.

“Fuck, Papa,” you whine, the orgasm you lost now building back up fast and violently.

One of Copia’s hands slides up to the back of your head, keeping it down for more wet kisses that smear his face paint all over your chin. His tongue enters your mouth, licking against yours desperately as though he suddenly can’t get enough of your taste. You comply eagerly, carding your hands through his chest hair, leaving trails of red as your nails scrape over his skin. Copia groans at the sensation, a deep sound that vibrates within you and has you clenching around his cock.

“That’s it, amore, ahhh–” He picks up his pace, chasing his own pleasure now just as much as yours. “So fucking good.”

“I’m s-so close,” you whisper.

“Let go for me,” he encourages, bringing his hands between your bodies in search of your clit. “Show your Papa how f-fucking good he makes you feel.”

He finds your sensitive spot, grazing the swollen nub with his gloved finger, and you fall apart in an instant. Your muscles tense, voice high-pitched as you moan and whimper at your release. When your mouth slips from his Copia grabs your chin and forces it back up, urging you to hold his gaze as he continues to fuck up into your clenched cunt. You struggle to hold yourself upright, your whole body turning into jelly as pleasure makes way for exhaustion. With one hand on his throat you trace the line of his Adam’s apple, feel him swallowing hard as he finally follows you and comes inside of you with a groan. His eyes turn glassy, losing their focus, and you finally allow yourself to sink against him, feeling his slightly sweaty chest.

For a long moment neither of you speaks, trying to breathe the air back into your lungs.

“It was okay, amore?” Copia finally asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not too much teasing?”

“It was amazing,” you say, your body still numb and tingly from the exertions. “Maybe we can wait a few minutes, though, before we get cleaned up.”

Copia hums and wraps his arms around you, keeping you pressed closely together. He begins to caress your back, fingers then sliding up to your neck where he massages the tight muscles for a moment but stops when it gets too exhausting to maintain. You sigh into his neck, face hidden underneath the curve of his jaw where you snugly fit against him. After a moment of reprieve you lean back up and look at him – ruined face, his paint smeared into grey streaks that run down his neck and reveal his skin. You press a kiss to the small scar on his jaw, then to the dip where it transitions into his plump lips, the corner of his mouth next.

“I’m sorry I interrupted your reading,” you mumble, breathing more kisses to his exposed face to give him the gentleness he always craves after being intimate like that. It’s a ritual by now, comfort and affection that make up for all the teasing.

“Ah, I was just waiting for you to come over,” he admits, returning the favour by pressing his lips to your cheek. “The book is interesting… but not that interesting, eh?”

“I will worship you, my Papa,” you whisper with a smile. “I call it the Cult of Copia.”

He chuckles, tightening his arms around you again to pull you flush against him. “Watch out, amore, I think I could get used to that.”

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡ The quotes I used in here are from this book, sorry for the blasphemous use of an actual academic book haha.

Masterlist – my Ao3 – Join my tag list

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 10th

Praise Kink, Cardinal Copia x Plus Size!Reader

Previous Day | Next Day

Masterlist

Words: 4.9k

Warnings: Praise kink (going both ways); hurt/comfort; age gap; mentions of poor mental health; friends to lovers; unprotected sex; body worship; fingering; fellatio; nipple play; piv sex; plus size!reader; mentions of fatphobia; this is very self-indulgent; cockwarming;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

“Please, sweetheart, open the door.” You pleaded. Your forehead rested against the front door of Cardinal Copia’s small room, your hand stroking the wood in desperation to reach your closest friend who had locked himself inside and was sobbing on the floor. You had been alerted to his distress by his only assistant ghoul, Aurora, who was struggling to gain access to his room and knew you would be the only one who had a chance in Hell at getting in. You could hear his cries of despair and each one shattered your heart a little more.

Copia was your best friend, which from the outside looking in seemed a little strange. There was a mighty age gap between you both, and you hardly worked together, but something clicked for the two of you that one random chance you met, and you both simply couldn’t stay away. Rather like a cliché, somewhere along the lines you had developed feelings for him. He was pathetic, painfully introverted and shy, but he was the goodest of eggs, the sweetest of men, and insanely smart. His childish sense of humour resonated with you, and his inappropriate jokes were just what the doctor ordered. Neither of you truly fit in at the Ministry, not in the way other Siblings or Clergy Members did. The only reason why you both stayed was because of your devotion to the church. But Copia was worse off than you were. Everyone here, especially the Siblings, very much had a high-school mentality when it came to the Cardinal - and only the Cardinal. You would often catch their looks of disgust when he walked passed them, or hear the snidest of comments when he wasn’t around. You were aware of how they treated him, and tried your best to get more people to get to know him and keep their mouths shut. But some people refused to be swayed.

You didn’t know what had him so upset, but you had a hunch. You were just praying you were wrong.

The Cardinal was unlucky when it came to love. Most people rejected him, or sneered and turned away. But there was one of the Sisters of Sin who really captured the Cardinal’s attention, and you knew he was going to make an attempt to ask her out. You just hoped that it wasn’t today.

“Copia?” You pleaded again. “Please open the door.” You knocked gently. “Let me in?”

Though the sounds of his painful sobs remained, you heard shuffling underneath that. The door unlocked, giving you the opportunity to step back so you wouldn’t crowd him in his emotional state, and waited for him to open the door to you. And when he did, he looked much worse than anticipated.

The black paint around his eyes that signified his station in the Clergy had almost completely washed away from the tears he’d shed. Instead, they were running like black streams down his long face. The black upper lip he had had also been bitten away, and smeared across his face. His moustache was somewhat damp with both his snot and some of his tears. His eyes were red and puffy, and tears were still coming out. He was, for lack of a better term, a total mess.

Without hesitation and despite him being a little taller than you, you scooped him up into a tight hug, pulling him against your soft body and letting his head fall to your shoulders. He wept uncontrollably into the crook of your neck. He gripped onto your waist as tightly as he could, as though you were going to disappear on him the second he let go. While he was still attached to you, you managed to enter his room and close the door behind you, giving him the privacy he needed. Your hands, now free moved to cradle him, stroking his salt and pepper hair and providing as much comfort as you possibly could.

You stayed like that in the entrance for quite some time, until his sobs quietened to mere hiccups and his tears had saturated your habit. It was always better for him to get his emotions out before finding out what got him into that state. Now that he’d calmed down, he would be able to answer your questions. You both moved over to his single bed and sat down together. “What happened?” You asked, handing him a tissue from his bedside table and holding his gloved hand.

“Sh-she rejected me.”

Ah, so it was the Sister…

“Oh, honey. I’m sorry. She doesn’t deserve you.” He always rolled his eyes when you told him that as if he didn’t believe you - and it usually was because he didn’t believe you.

“But she was kind about it.” He blew his nose. “She held my hands, looked me in my eyes. She apologised! She told me that any woman would be lucky to have me, but the honour wouldn’t fall to her, as flattered as she was! She hoped I would find someone better than her. Can you imagine?”

That hit like a knife to your chest. But this wasn’t about you. You had to keep reminding yourself the feelings were not mutual.

Copia continued, “I was human to her, ___. That’s what made it worse.” His face scrunched up as if he was about to start crying again and your hand gripped his tighter as if to bring him back into reality. He nodded. “Grazie. It hurts when they treat me badly, of course. But I come to expect cruelty with the rejection now. When they treat me like a rat I know what to do. B-but this?” His bottom lip quivered. “What am I to do with this?”

You switched positions a little, taking his hand in your left and wrapping your right around his body, holding him close to you in a semi-side hug. You rest your head on his shoulder and allowed your thumbs to gently caress his body. You didn’t say anything to him - you just listened. Besides, what was there to say? You weren’t even sure how to proceed with this. Usually, their cruelty meant that you could give your true feelings about them and remind him what awful people they were and that he dodged a bullet. He was able to get over the rejection within a week at most. But no bullets were dodged with this sister. She was kind to him when no one else was. She was gentle and sweet. No wonder he was having such a tough time.

He chuckled. “I am pathetic, sì? I should not cry over such things.”

“Hey,” you lifted your head to look at him, “never say that again.”

“Why? It is true. It was stupid of me to believe anyone as beautiful as she would like me back. Look at me: I am middle-aged, weedy, ugly and pathetic. How am I to find someone better than her? When most other people are worse than she is and still will not even look at me without disdain. Perhaps it would be best if I were not here.”

“It’s not true. You’re not pathetic. You’re not any of the things anyone says about you. Copia, look at me.” His eyes remained on the ground in refusal. “Please look at me.” He wasn’t emotionally capable of looking at you, but he needed to in order for you to get your point across. In desperation, you got on your knees on the floor in front of him and placed your hands on his thighs, unthinking in your movements. Your habit, much longer than usual due to the cold, spread out regally across the floor and encircled you. Copia looked at you now, but his eyes were a little wider than normal.

“You listen to me, you are wonderful,” you grabbed his gloved hands and held them tightly, “smart, and incredibly beautiful. You may not be everyone’s cup of tea, Copia, but you will be someone’s. I appreciate you so much, and I’m so fucking thankful that you are here. I’m so grateful that I have a friend as good as you every day. I thank Satan every time I pray for bringing you into my life. I love you.”

Perhaps your confession wasn’t said with as much honesty as you wanted it to be. The amount of love you felt for him played down by your fear of losing him. But the eye contact and the position you were in must have reached him. You must have.

His hand untangled itself from yours and cupped your cheek, his mismatched and teary eyes looking at yours. “Grazie, schricchio. This foolish old man does not deserve you.”

Your hand moved to his wrist and gripped on, once again allowing your thumbs to caress the back of his hand. “Yes, you do. I wish you could see yourself as I see you: how perfectly wonderful you are even with any flaws you have. There are fewer flaws than you think. Society is the one with the problem, not you.”

This was something you knew all too well being much bigger than the average woman in the Ministry. Even in a Satanic church where everything was meant to be the polar opposite of the Catholic church, you still found prejudice amongst your Siblings. You weren’t held in quite so much disdain as “the Creepy Cardinal”, but you knew all about how inhumanely Copia was treated because you had experienced yourself on many occasions. The over-sexualisation of your body while also having people call you disgusting and cruel names. Not having men look you in the eye when they had a conversation with you lest they be scruitinised by their peers. The way that Siblings would avoid performing rituals with you for the very same reason. The few friends you made, the comments that were thrown your way. ‘You’d be so much prettier if you lost that weight.’ ‘It’s unhealthy to be your size.’ The constant beration and bullying; it was so much to experience on a daily basis. Copia became your safe haven, your quiet and comforting place. He was always appreciative of you, loved to see you, spend time with you. He, unlike some of your previous friends and lovers, was unashamed to be seen with you in public. And all of this was because he knew what it was like firsthand to be on the edge of society and treated like dog shit. And every time you saw him defeated, it smashed a piece of your soul.

Copia, by this point, had stopped crying and all that remained were little sad sniffles, but his mismatched eyes never left yours. “You are too good to me, schricchio.” He gave you a faint smile, as if to imply he was playing. But there was too much seriousness in his voice to be anywhere near a jest.

“You deserve the world and more.” You kissed the palm of his hand where it was still resting on your cheek. “I’m sorry other people don’t think the same.”

“Perhaps when the Sister was telling me there is someone better than her, she was talking about you? I always have you at my side to give me strength when I need it. If we were not in the Devil’s church, I’d think you an angel.”

“Shut up.”

“No, it is true. Your Cardinal wouldn’t lie to you, no?”

“It depends - he may have an ulterior motive. Like getting me to stop talking so he can continue his self-loathing in peace.”

Copia chuckled, “She is too smart for her own good.” His eyes remained watery but gentle. “Grazie, schricchio. It seems the world treats us both poorly.” He leant down and gave you a kiss on your forehead, something he usually saved for your lowest days. There was something different about the way this kiss felt, though - something peculiar in the way he let his lips linger a little longer than usual. The way he didn’t move back right away, instead resting his forehead on yours. You opened your own eyes to see that his were still closed. Despite the way his makeup ran, you still thought he was so, insanely handsome.

“Come on, Cardinal, let’s get you cleaned up.”

You took his hand and led him to the bathroom, placing him on the closed lidded toilet and ordering him to close his eyes. You went in with a cleanser, the exact balm you recommended him to use and gently rubbed it over his face, melting away his makeup and sadness. This was incredibly intimate for best friends, you were both well aware of it, but there was something necessary about it especially when you were both so emotionally wounded. Like the forehead kisses, this was reserved only for the days when you both felt the most broken and needed connection. It had become one of your favourite things to do with him, because it truly allowed you to study his features without being seen as creepy or weird. His large nose, his pink lips, the light brown of his eyebrows that was always hidden beneath the darkest of panda eyes. His forehead creases and deep-set laughter lines that showed despite his trauma, he still found a way to smile. His quirky little moustache that was taken directly out of an 80s porno, complete with bushman sideburns that on anyone else would look ridiculous, but it suited him indubitably. He very much had the same features as the little rats he adored, along with his skin beginning to show his age. These were all things that made him uniquely Copia, and all of the things you fell in love with aside from his personality.

Of course, when you had him like this, it was also customary to play with him a little even if it was just to coax a small smile out of him. You placed a washcloth, warm and wet from the water over his face and left it there, announcing “done”, when you’d let go. He’d berate you back, telling you this was the worst spa he’d ever been to and that he’d never return, but once he’d washed away the grease and the grime of the day, he looked at you with a very pink, but very clean face. “Ta-da!”

“Handsome as always.”

He placed his hand on your cheek once more. “Grazie, schricchio.”

You leant into his touch, savouring the feeling of it but wishing you could get closer. Wordlessly, you took his hand in yours and began removing his gloves. Gently pulling each finger so that the whole thing would be removed easier. Once both gloves were off, you took his hand and put it back on your cheek, wrapping your own around it and enjoying the feel of his soft flesh against your own.

Copia, mustering all the confidence he didn’t think he had, brought your face closer to his once more, his breath tickling your lips. It was almost as if he was expecting you to pull away, like he was giving you the option to, but once it had been made apparent you were going to stay in your position, he finally closed the gap. Your heart leapt out of your chest when his lips made contact with yours - the touch was light and barely there, filled entirely with the fear that you might jump back in disgust and chide him for his actions. But he’d opened up the floodgates now, and there was no stopping either of you.

From that moment on, your kisses increased in desperation. He poured out the trauma of the past three hours, you draining your years of unrequited love into the heavy breaths and connection, the intensity increasing the longer you spent joined together. His hands came to your soft waist, and pulled you impossibly close to him, leaving not a scrap of room for a sheet of paper to be wedged in between you. Your own hands travelled to his hair, gripping on the roots for purchase and to keep yourself grounded as best as you could. Whimpers and moans left the both of you when your tongues were brought in to dance. He pushed you against the bathroom counter, pinning you against it and tightening his grip. He pulled away from your lips, but only a little. When he spoke, you could still feel his lips brushing against yours. “T-tell me to stop and I will.” He told you, his breath heavy and his voice barely above a whisper. “But you have to tell me now, amore mio, because once I start, I will never be able to stop. I’ll want you for eternity after tonight. Even in our deaths my soul will search for yours relentlessly. Do you want me to stop?”

“No. I need this. I need you.”

He wasted no more time in connecting his lips to yours once more, this time with more fervour and passion than you ever thought possible. The way he crowded you onto the bathroom cabinet had you lifting yourself up onto it, spreading your legs for him to slot in between them. His lips moved from yours, and he placed chaste kisses along your jawline to your neck, making you giggle a little at the feel of his moustache tickling you. Even though it was a jerk reaction, it still felt incredibly good. His hand moved up your skirts, gliding along your tights and reaching the waistband, pulling them and your panties down with the utmost gentility despite his ever growing desire for you. Your very core now exposed to him, but you felt no embarrassment, no shame, no shyness. The hand that was under your skirts now moved to your vulva and you felt his index finger running through the wetness of your folds. You gasped when he began to play with your clit.

Simultaneously, his mouth nibbled at your ear in between his words. “I never believed I could have you. Never did I think this could happen. I have waited for you for so long now, amore mio. You are everything to me. You are the whole world and everything in it, my reason for living.” He slipped his middle and ring finger inside of you, tapping upwards immediately and hitting that sweet spot over and over again. His fingers had you whimpering. “You are the brightness of the sun and my reason for waking in the morning. You are the calm of the moon and the reason for my serenity. Venus herself is in envy and awe of your beauty. Nothing of this world, of the human mind, could ever come close to your radiance.”

“Copia!”

His words caused an extra fluttering in your stomach when he spoke them, coupled with the feeling of his fingers deep inside you, his thumb working your clit alongside the two that were working invisibly had your entire body shuddering. Your nipples stood erect inside your bra, nudged sometimes by the movement of his body and giving you that extra feeling of overwhelming pleasure. Your mind was numb, filled with nothing but Copia. The low timbre of his voice in your ear, the smell of his cologne, his soft jawline against your cheek. He was everywhere all at once overwhelming you and bathing you in him. “Bene mio.” My happiness. His lips found yours again, his tongue begging for entrance to your mouth as he kissed you feverishly. His fingers working in tandem to bring you over the edge. When you fell, you fell hard. Your toes curling, your eyes seeing white, your breath escaping your body. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he worked you through it, muttering more unintelligible words into your skin that your ears couldn’t understand. Your body felt them though, and came alive at the touch. “Sono innamorato di te.” He told you. He was desperately, undeniably, helplessly in love with you.

You clasped onto his cheeks and pulled him in for a kiss. His hands, sodden with your cum moved towards your lips once the kiss had finished and you sucked on his fingers, cleaning yourself off of them and earning a gutteral groan in the process. Copia’s cock stood erect in the tightness of his jeans beneath his cassock, barely protruding through the thick material. It was time to show him some mercy and love too. “My beautiful Copia. The kindest man I’ve ever known.” With your own lips attached to the crook of his neck, you began undressing him, sliding his cassock off his shoulders and dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. “You are my reason for living, too. I should have told you sooner but I was too afraid of losing you.” Your hands flew to the waistband of his pants and untied them.

“You could never lose me, amore mio.”

“I know that now. But I didn’t ever want to live a life without you, however small the possibility.” You slipped down off the counter and got on your knees in front of him, the earlier image replaying in Copia’s mind. His hand immediately flew to your hair but his grip tightened when you released his cock from his jeans and gave him a tentative stroke. “I love everything about you,” you licked from base to tip, “your voice,” another lick, “your body,” another, “your brain.” You swirled your tongue around the head, touching repeatedly over his frenulum causing him to hiss. You focused mainly on the head, your own experiences telling you that was generally the most sensitive part, and Copia’s voice and actions confirming. Though his hand was on your head, it was only to keep him cognizant. He wasn’t forcing you to take him deeper like your previous lovers, nor did he guide you at all. You looked up at him through your lashes and saw that his eyes were tight shut. “Look at me, Copia. Watch me on my knees for you, worship you.”

“Amore, I can’t. I will cum too quickly.”

You licked his tip once more. “That’s okay.”

“It’s not. There are more things I wish to do with you tonight.”

His precum was beading at the tip again, and you used your hands to squeeze it into your mouth. Copia watched and pulled completely away from you, almost finishing at the sight of it. “No. Let me take you to bed. If you stay down there a moment longer, I’ll ruin it.”

You stood and kissed him. “You could never.”

He grabbed your hand and took you back into the bedroom, taking the opportunity once you’d arrived to stand and unbutton your habit from behind you. His hands roamed and groped your body as they worked at removing your clothes. He traced every curve he could find, every dip, every bump. When your skin was on display he did the same thing, learning about your body and mapping it out. Your bra was removed quickly so he could admire your breasts and play with your nipples. All the while his lips licked and sucked on your neck, decorating the pristine skin with his marks. He wanted to show the world what he’d done to you, like he was an artist proud of his work. “On the bed, amore mio.” He instructed. You did as he asked and lay on your back, watching him remove his jeans and underwear. All clothes were discarded carelessly on the ground. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

He clambered onto the bed, hovering above your legs. He took his time, tracing his lips from your shins, your thick thighs, your pubic mound, your stomach. He took his time over your nipples, giving them both the proper attention they deserved before he moved up to your neck and finally your lips. He kissed you deeply, passionately, his hands grasping onto your plump hips as his dick needily rubbed against your clit.

No words were exchanged when you felt his cock enter you, stretching you out obscenely to the point where you felt like you’d burst. You broke the kiss, your eyes squeezing tightly shut and your mouth opening in a silent scream. Your entire body felt electrified - your hairs standing on end. Just being cloaked in him, pinned beneath him had you seeing stars, but now he was entering you - finally. He felt incredible, he was incredible.

“No, amore,” you heard him say when he was halfway inside you, his fingers came to caress your cheek once more, “look into my eyes. Look at me while I stretch you.” You obeyed, your eyes locking onto his mismatched ones. Only when he had your complete attention did he continue sinking into you. “Brava ragazza. Take it all like a good girl. Cazzo! So fucking tight.”

You were constricting around him making it damn near impossible for him to breathe. You couldn’t breathe either. “You’re so b-big!” You told him, trying to fight to speak.

He reached the hilt and stayed still, giving you the opportunity to pepper kisses all over his face in your need to be close to him again. Both of your hands were clasped to his cheeks as your lips roamed, yet somehow he still felt too far away. “Sathanas - I can’t move.”

You giggled. “Take your time, my love. You’ve filled me so much, it feels so good.”

He jerked his hips forward. “Merda! Don’t do that. I’m trying not to finish.” There was a big smile on his face as he said it though.

You placed his hand on the bottom of your stomach. “It’s like I can feel you here. You’re so deep.”

His hips moved on their own accord again, but this time he didn’t stop them. His thrusts were shallow and tentative at first, but the more confident he became, the more intense he moved. All of his thrusts hit your cervix causing you to involuntarily cry out each time. He was so deep, filling you in a way you knew you’d become obsessed with. One of your hands was resting near your head, and Copia took the opportunity to grab it and interlock your fingers together. “You’re doing such a good job, my love.” Your voice was breathy as you spoke, so worn out you hardly recognised it. The praise caused Copia to startle forwards and really slam into you. It felt divine. “Copia! Fuck! Do that again.”

“This?” He pulled all the way out and slammed back in.

“Yes! Fuck!”

He did it again.

And again.

And again.

Hitting that spot at the front of your cervix so well. “This is what you wanted, right?” He asked, repeating that motion. Your hand flew down to your clit, your middle finger working away at it quickly in the feral need you had to cum around his cock. He sat back onto his knees to gain more leverage, taking in the sight of you touching yourself while speared on his dick. Every time he entered you, your entire body jiggled with the force. He couldn’t help the noise he made when he saw you for the first time, spread out, pliant and ricocheting off his every move. “Sei così bagnata! You’re so wet. You feel so fucking good!”

“Don’t stop! Please, Copia! Don’t stop!”

“You like that?”

“I’m gonna cum so fucking hard. Please!”

“Vieni per me, amore.” Cum for me, love.

At his request, you shattered. Your back arched off the bed. Somehow your nails found his thigh and scratched down it in an attempt to grasp onto the bedsheets. This, in turn, caused Copia to thrust forward again intensifying the feeling. “I got you. That’s it. Such a good girl for me.”

“Fucking hell!” You finally gasped when you came down from your high. You were lightheaded and it felt like the room was spinning, but your body was on fire. Copia had stopped moving to make sure you were okay. He leant forward and placed another kiss to your forehead before resting his against yours once more. This time he looked directly into your eyes. “Hi.” You whispered, grinning like a lovesick fool.

“Hi.” He copied you.

“Did you-?”

“Not yet, amore mio.”

“Will you cum for me, my love?”

“Are you okay to continue?”

“Of course.”

He nodded and began thrusting again. His movements were deliberately gentle after the intensity of your orgasm but with some reassurance that you were okay, he picked up the pace again. This time he was focusing on his own pleasure, wanting to end your sensitivity and finish quickly. But it seemed like he was too in his head. “You fill me so good, Copia.” You told him. “No one has ever made me feel like this before.”

“N-no?”

“You’re the only one who made me cum. I came so fucking hard because of you. You made me feel incredible.”

“Cazzo!”

“Such a good boy for me.”

“I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum! C-can I cum inside? Please!”

“Cum inside me. Let it all out, sweetheart. That’s it.”

With the final thrust, he emptied himself inside you, painting your walls with his seed. His cock was still buried so deep inside you but his orgasm made him try and get deeper. His head fell onto your chest when he collapsed onto you, a sweaty, exhausted mess but so blissfully fucked out. Your hands immediately went to his hair, stroking through his locks and providing him extra comfort after all the exertion. He tried to pull out of you once he realised the position, but you stopped him from moving, instead turning his head up and kissing him again. Your kisses were short but many, passionate but sleepy. “My Cardinal,” you muttered, “My Copia. I love you.”

“I love you.” He told you. “I always will.”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[ramblingoak]

Care Package

Papa Emeritus IV x GN Reader ~ You take care of Copia after he gets sick at the end of the tour

Warnings: Copia being dramatic while sick, fluff, sfw, 1k words, not proofread forgive me

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

“I’m dying.”

Here we go.  It was a good thing your back was turned because Copia would pitch a fit if he saw you rolling your eyes.  You sighed and continued to pick up all of the used tissues that were littering the floor.  When he let out a pitiful sigh you groaned, turning your head to glare at him.

“Copia, you’re fine.”

“No, no this is it.  I can feel it.”  You bit your lip to stifle the laugh that wanted to bubble out.  Copia was endlessly dramatic whenever he was under the weather.  “It’s near.”

“What’s near?”

“Death.”

“Oh Lucifer, you’re not going to die from a cold.”  He started to respond but was immediately interrupted by a series of violent sneezes, the whole bed shaking from the force of them.  You turned back to the dirty tissues, shoving them into a trash bag while he recovered.  The sound of him blowing his nose filled the room and right when you were turning to check on him again a wet, balled up tissue hit you right in the face.  “Son of a fuck!  Copia!”

“Eh?”  His adorably confused look stopped you from leaping onto the bed and strangling him, but just barely.  The sight of his red, watery eyes made your irritation disappear.  His face was flushed from the fever and sweaty locks of hair had fallen across his forehead.  When Copia realized you were staring at him he groaned and threw his arm over his face.  “You shouldn’t see me like this.”

“Like what?”  You dropped the trash bag and grabbed another box of tissues, slowly walking around the bed to sit by his hip.  He whined when you tugged on his arm so you could see his face.  “Hey, like what?”

“Pathetic.”  You cooed at him, reaching out to brush his hair back.  He sighed when you placed your cool hand on his forehead.  “Weak and old.  Hideous.” 

“Well, this is all true bu–”

“Dolcezza!”  Copia’s voice broke while he whined and he was overcome with a fit of coughing.  You helped turn him so he was coughing away from you, rubbing his back as they came to an end.  “Ugh, why are you here?”

“Someone has to take care of you.”

“You’re going to get sick too.”  He rolled back over on his back with a groan.  “I don’t want you to catch this.”

“I’ll just have to risk it.”  You smoothed his hair out again, giving him a soft smile when he met your eyes.  “I want to take care of you, Copia.”

“Fine, fine.  Twist my arm.”  He managed a weak smile and you resisted the urge to lean down and kiss him.  “Thank you, amore.”

“You’re welcome, Papa.”  You reached towards his night stand and grabbed the damp cloth you had set there earlier.  Copia let out a relieved sigh when you wiped the sweat off his face.  “Now, I’m going to clean you up a bit and then you’ll need to eat something before you take any more medicine.”

“I couldn’t possib–”

“It's homemade chicken noodle soup.”

You laughed when he grabbed your hand, his eyes lighting up at your words.

“Did Secondo make it?”

“Yes, your brothers gave me a care package for you.”  Copia sniffled a bit and you let him pretend it was from his cold.  You got up to grab the laundry basket Terzo had given you and brought it over to the bed, setting it at Copia’s feet so you could show him everything inside.  “Your ghouls also added a few things.”

“Anything good?”

“Primo gave me a salve I’m supposed to rub on your chest.”  You shook her head at him when he waggled his eyebrows.  Even when feverish he couldn’t help himself.  “And Terzo added a book and these penis shaped hard candies for your throat.”

“Where does he find this stuff?”  Copia made grabby hands for the candies and you tossed them over.  He opened the bag quickly, popping one into his mouth and smiling around it.  “These aren’t bad though, what book is it?” 

“The Hobbit.”  His eyes immediately started watering and you frowned.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing.  He used to read that to me when we were kids.”  Copia cleared his throat and smiled.  “What did the ghouls send?”

“Um, Phantom knit you a sweater but he ran out of yarn so it’s missing a sleeve.”  You held up the bright blue monstrosity that the quintessence ghoul had proudly shoved into your hands that morning.  “Other than that you got some eucalyptus candles and tea, a few crossword puzzle books and Aurora is letting you borrow her box set of all the Halloween movies.”

Copia’s face lit up at the last item, both he and the ghoulette had bonded over an intense love for slasher movies.  You laid the sweater over his chest and handed him the dvd’s then busied yourself putting the basket away and setting the candles around the room while you both pretended he wasn’t crying.  After he blew his nose a few times you wandered back over, the book from Terzo in your hands.  Copia yawned and settled back into his pillows while you fussed over him, helping him get comfortable.

“Will you read to me, amore?”  You wanted to get him to eat some soup first, but rest would be good for him as well.  As carefully as possible you got up on the bed and sat next to him, smiling when he scooted closer and rested his head against your thigh.  “Just until I fall asleep.”

“Whatever you need, Copia.  I’ll be right here.”  His breath was already evening out, his body going limp as you ran your fingers through his hair.  You quietly opened the book in your lap, taking a few seconds to watch him before you started to read.  “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit…” 

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

my masterlist of fic

my archive of our own page

[angellayercake]

Smudge

Papa Emeritus IV x Reader | NSFW

Warnings: Eating pussy and being sweaty! I wrote this for @ghelullu a while back after being tortured with beautiful Copia drawings one too many times and I have been waiting for a hot day to post it and as today was one of the first actually warm days in the UK i decided it was finally time.

The heat is oppressive even now, laying on your bed in nothing but a damp towel. The insulating walls of the old abbey where you live are doing nothing to protect you from the weather, the old stones soaking up the heat of the day so even inside they are warm to the touch. Somewhere in the back of your clouded mind you think you had plans this evening but even after a chilled shower all you can bear to do is lay down and let your little fan push the stifling air over your sticky skin.

It's only when he knocks on your door you remember to expect him and even though you are unsure you can stand the addition of any more body heat in the room you can't turn him away. You call to him unable to muster the energy to move, the last of it stolen by the ever present butterflies dancing around your insides at the idea of his presence. The heat hangs around him like a cloud. Even he, the man raised in the scorching summers of southern Italy is affected, his grey roots darkened with sweat and his usually stark paints mixing in grey drips from his temples.

Tired and uncomfortable as he looks his eyes still alight when he notices your state of undress, his gaze roaming your flushed skin so intensely it almost feels like a caress. You give him a look in an attempt to quell the desire that is building but even under these conditions you feel yourself swept up in his lust. He begins to strip, peeling off the layers that make him Papa until he is just your Copia nude but for his melting paint.

His advances shouldn't be welcome right now, not when even the cool sheets find a way to stick to your skin but as you take in his heat touched body you find yourself craving him just as much. The curls across his chest dark and dampened clinging to his shape and the glowing flush of fresh perspiration. You should tell him to shower, it would be better for both of you but you lose your train of thought when he kneels at the foot of the bed.

He is conscious as he crawls over you, holding space and allowing the circulating air to come between you. You hold his gaze letting the spark of heat you may actually enjoy ignite as he closes the space between your lips. It’s odd, this maintained distance, if necessary; you struggle to ever remember an encounter where you weren’t pressed as close as your bodies would allow. And yet his distance now feels as intimate as your habitual closeness.

The press of his lips is slick and salty when he licks into your mouth and encourages you to do the same with a deep groan as your tongue slides against his. The heat of your mouth doesn’t content him for long though as he indulges the urge to taste every inch of you in lieu of his body flush against yours. His paints leave a map on your skin of his progress, smudged lip prints getting less distinct, the sharp black shapes to light grey smears in a gradient down your body. He settles between your legs, the only point of contact a firm hand gripping your thigh and his hot breath against your core.

Holding your breath is the only reasonable action in this moment waiting for him to take his first taste but just as you think he is about to close that distance his mouth finds your inner thigh. He grazes you with his teeth, worrying the already heat sensitive skin until you are writhing. Your fingers find his hair when you reach your limit no longer giving him the choice and when his tongue tentatively touches you you are lost.

It is lazy the way he works you over with the slow grind of the bridge of his nose, his attempts to taste every part of you with his dexterous tongue and his infuriating soft sucking pulling you further and further from reality into a sweltering haze of pleasure where only the two of you exist. You are caught in his half lidded eyes as lost in your bliss as you are. It’s hard to distinguish the heated air from the almost overwhelming heat building with your climax as they work together to scramble what little rational thought you have left. The lack of his touch makes you feel almost adrift so when a hand crawls its way up your body to massage your breast, palm rough against your hard nipple, it’s the grounding you need to let yourself go.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, an unconscious threat to keep him exactly where he is greedily swallowing down the fruits of his labours with a moan that vibrates through you. Your whole body resonates with your pulse and you try to remember how to breath again. He eases back on to his knees sensing your need for some space and giving you the opportunity to appreciate the debauchery written all over him. His chin and cheeks are entirely clear of his paints, both of your sweat and your slick wiping him clean. The lamp light catches in the beads of sweat decorating his body your visceral reaction to taste him taking you by surprise.

His cock lays thick against his thigh, the gathered precum making your mouth water but as much as you wish to tease him to hardness you suspect that he might have hit his limit for the day. Somehow you manage to kneel next to him, wanting so badly to pull him close and bury your face in his chest but already knowing you will regret it. He knows what you need, as he always does, sensing your need because he takes your hand and encourages you off the bed. Only when you are both steady on your feet does he pull you closer, gifting you the soft press of a kiss to the back of your hand.

‘Shower with me?’ His voice is rough but happy, his tired smile bleeding into his words and you realise these are the first thing he has said to you today. With your hand still in his he leads you back into your bathroom. In the mirror you take in the pleasant mess he has made of your body and the tired look of pride on his face as he regards you just the same. The air begins to chill as the cool spray fills the stall and reluctant as you both are to wash away the evidence the siren call of reprieve from the heat is too strong.

It is easier like this to stand the skin to skin contact you always crave with him. Allowing yourselves gradually closer as the water cools you in increments until you can stand to be in his arms and you can relax. Washing can come later, for now you enjoy being close, face pressed into his neck where the water hasn't managed to wash away the scent of him.

The time is short, or as long as your ancient water tank allows, but for now at least you can both relax.

[kaleidos-copia]

I just rewatched one of my favorite films, The Princess Bride, for the first time since becoming obsessed with Ghost, and now I can't stop thinking about Copia as Westley. All black outfit, gloves, mask, and even a little moustache... it's so Copia coded.

Not to mention Copia is witty and agile, just like Westley. He would scale the Cliffs of Insanity, duel strangers, and sprint great distances to rescue you, all because you're his true love.

The quote, "Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while," is also very Copia, isn't it? And just imagine Buttercup and Westley's reunion as you and Copia...

Need I say more?

[lilspacewolfie]

Papas Caring For Hospitalized Reader

Spawned from pure self-indulgence. I've been through more hospital visits these last four weeks than I have my entire life. I want someone to bundle me up and make my hand better. I hate hospitals and operations *sobs*. Enjoy nonetheless!

Content: 2k words, Papas x gn!reader, SFW, bullet-pointed format, mentions of hospitals, needles (only mentioned), mention of general anaesthetic, angst, hurt/comfort, anxiety, lots of sweetness, you're getting pampered, no beta we die like nihil!)

This man will do everything in his power to make sure you’re looked after and relaxed. 

Tea for days! He will try different flavours until he finds the one you like.

Dives headfirst into deep research as to which herbs help your injury heal, as well as calm your nerves. He knows his plants well, but he wants to know more. You deserve the best of the best.

Insists on going with you for infirmary visits even when you tell him you’re fine (you’re not really, but you just don't want him to worry.)

He will anyway. 

Chronic worrier, especially given his age. 

He takes his health VERY seriously, yours too! The Ministry has the best medical care around. 

If you need a wound cleaned, stitches taken out, or other medicines, it's the place to get it. 

Primo will be with you as much as he’s able to, even if that means he’s sitting for a long time while you’re being treated. 

When you’re free and discharged—bandaged, bruised and probably feeling sore, he’ll take you back to his room for some TLC. 

Will have a bath or shower with you, (in his jungle of a washroom), depending on what you prefer and smother you with all your favourite scents.  

He’s a deeply caring individual and shows it openly. 

Will speak gently to you, whisper sweetly and ensure you’re not overstimulated more than you have been. 

“Shh, I know. I know amore. It’ll be over soon, just breathe for me.”

He knows how much you hate hospital/doctor visits. 

You can squeeze his hand if you want. 

If you need space for a bit after everything, he’ll gladly give it. 

If not, prepare to receive a lot of kisses, especially on your forehead (a lot of them, like… SO many.)

He will help you bathe if you’re unable to, running a foaming washcloth over your skin carefully. 

Let him wash your hair! It’s one of the things he adores doing for you!

Once you’re washed, warm and feeling more relaxed it’s time for more tea in bed with a snack if you want one!

He insists. Even if you don't feel like eating, try to drink something for him <3

“It will help you feel good and relax, Il mio fiore.” (My flower)

Fluids are important (wink-wonk).

Reminds you to take your meds like clockwork (always with tea and water)

You’re his petalo (petal) and he loves you dearly. 

Will wrap you up in the mountain of blankets and faux furs he has on his lush bed. He’s old, he feels the cold more than others. At least he has you to keep him warm.

Secondo hates when you’re hurt/hurting in any capacity. 

Even if it's something minor, he’ll worry about it to the point where he loses sleep over it. 

He’s a big, brooding mother hen. 

The Emeritus curse of being a chronic worrier doesn’t stop at Primo.

This man wants you to be okay and it kills him when you’re not. 

Will also go with you to the infirmary and stay with you. 

The staff always find him a little intimidating, but they know he’s just worried sick. He’s kind to everyone, but honestly, he won't speak much unless spoken to. 

“Are you alright, mio tesoro?” Is what he mainly asks, his voice so low it's close to a rumble. 

Tries his best to make you feel relaxed. 

Will make really, god-awful dad jokes that are so bad you do laugh. 

He will quietly hold your hand the entire time, rubbing his bare fingers over our knuckles. 

You rarely see him remove his gloves in public, but he HAS to be touching you. He insists. 

He’s had enough knocks and breaks in his life to know how fragile the human body can be, but also how incredible it is at self-repair. 

That doesn’t mean he views you as a fragile thing that needs to be wrapped in wool, but he loves you so deeply he would if you let him. 

He admires your strength and resolve as you put up with being poked and prodded (by needles or with doctors.) 

Once you’re released from care, good luck getting him to be anywhere less than within touching distance. 

You’re getting a kiss. Lots of them. Mostly chaste and gentle. 

You can tell it's because he worries about hurting you. 

He relaxes a bit more when you kiss him HARD and bite at his bottom lip. 

Will also help you bathe and shower. Again, touching distance. Just let him be near you for his own sanity. 

Though he wouldn’t be upset if you need some space. He’s very understanding if you’re overstimulated. 

Will linger outside the door in case you need anything. 

Let him dry you off and dress you in comfortable clothes. He can see you that way. 

He can see you’re still with him and that you’re safe. 

He’ll touch you slowly, running his large hands over your skin. 

Will spoon you once you’re in bed or let you curl into him. 

He’ll bury his nose in your hair, breathe you in and say a wordless prayer to Lucifer that you recover quickly. 

“Ti amo.” You hear him whisper as he presses a kiss to your forehead and strokes your hair.

Only falls asleep once he’s sure you have, holding you close the entire night. 

Terzo. Oh, Terzo. 

Emeritus curse of being a chronic worrier? Check. Turn it up to eleven. 

Unlike Secondo, Terzo is open with his worries. 

He’s a fair mix of his brothers, both gentle and occasionally stoic given the shape you’re in. 

If it's something minor, he’ll try to play it off with a bit of humour like he tends to do. He’ll make bad jokes (oh ho, you thought Secondo’s were bad just wait for this.) 

If it’s something you need an operation for, this man will be silently out of his mind. *insert any internally screaming gif here*

He takes pride in his appearance, but you’ll start to notice cracks—dishevelled hair, a button not done up or a smudge of his paint. 

It would worry you more if he didn’t have Omega or one of his brothers to make sure he’s drinking and eating regularly.

Tries to hide his stress. Fails. Rinse and repeat. 

He doesn’t want you to worry about him, you’re the one in pain, about to be put under and Lucifer… What's he going to do if something happens?

He loves you. Adores you. You’re his life.

He knows how much you hate being stuck in hospitals and it pains him to see you stressed. The last thing he wants to do is add to that, so he’ll play it cool. 

When you go in he’s pacing the halls.

Rest assured, the healthcare of the Ministry has you in safe hands. 

It puts Terzo at ease, but don't expect him to leave your side when everything is over. He will sit at your bedside, kiss your knuckles and stroke your hair. 

Let him touch you. Just let him. 

He’s been through so much heartache in his life. 

Will kiss each of your fingers and whisper sweet words to you. 

“You’ll be okay, vita mia. Cuore mio. I’m here. I’m with you.” (My life. My heart.)

Maybe he’ll hum some songs too. 

You’re his everything. 

Once you’re ready and well enough to leave, you’re getting pampered to hell and back. This man worships the ground you walk on. 

Whatever you want it's not too much. A bath? A shower? Just to get into bed and fall asleep? Terzo’s right there with you.

Dinner in his massive, plush bed with your favourite movie.

When you’re ready to sleep he’ll plaster himself to you. He would crawl inside your skin if he could. 

Fitful sleeper. Wakes up a few times just to make sure you’re ok. 

Eventually sleeps soundly once you kiss his worries away. 

Stroke his hair. He’s a sucker for that!

*Copia is not Nihil’s son in my verses/AUs unless explicitly stated.*

He’s learned bad habits from the Papas it seems. 

Worrier. Yes, it's chronic. Seriously, are we sure this isn’t like the flu?

Paces a lot. 

Good luck getting him to sit still. 

If he's not pacing, he’s as close to you as physics will allow. 

Lots of touching. Will rest his head by your hip if he’s tired from all that pacing. 

Perfect opportunity to run your fingers through his hair.  

He’ll hold your hands and kiss your knuckles. 

All that stress tires him out. 

“Mi dispiace, amore. Non sto aiutando,” he’ll whisper brokenly. (I'm sorry, amore. I'm not helping.)

You two probably end up curled up on the bed of the infirmary together if you have been waiting a while. A nap won't hurt. 

You kiss slowly as you get comfortable, limbs tangled.

The angle is a bit awkward. 

The sleep helps but he’s still going to be stressed when he wakes up. 

Will get you anything you need. A drink or food, perhaps one of the really nice yogurts they do at the visitor's cantine. 

Will ask the nurses and doctors SO many questions. He likes to be informed. Gets stressed if anything is unclear. 

Maybe he should be in this infirmary bed and not you. 

Prepare to be coddled once you’re discharged. 

You’re both taking a long, hot bath or shower. 

He wants to wash you down so he can see you and make sure you’re ok. Lots of tender kisses to your skin. 

Ends up with you in his arms under the hot water just swaying together. 

You’re wearing his clothes. No, not just because he likes how they look on you but because they’re baggy and won't irritate your skin *cough*. Sure Copia. 

He’ll order your favourite food and you can watch a movie in his room together. 

Will mother hen you, constantly ask if you need anything, and make sure your water glass is full. 

He probably will cry. It’s just been so much. 

You can cry together if you want. You both understand. 

Also like clockwork when it comes to medication (if you’re taking any.) 

Curls up in bed with you. You both sleep like the dead after such a long, stressful day. 

Breakfast in bed when you wake up.

*Copia is not Nihil’s son in my verses/AUs unless explicitly stated.*

Copia might not be of the Emeritus blood, but unholy shit does the curse of being a chronic worrier catch like wildfire. 

He’s Papa now he’s gotta be strong. 

Will put on a brave face. But underneath he’s still the cardinal he was years back. 

He’ll worry and fret and pace. There's no changing some things. 

While he’s outwardly less anxious, this poor man has so much weighing on his shoulders after he took over to front the band. 

Inwardly it's chaos. 

His hair is never quite as smoothed back as it normally is and his paint is a touch worn. 

There are some things you can't change about a man. Not really. 

Prepare to be coddled, again. The mother hen has never left the coop. 

He’s going to pamper you when he gets you back to his room. Of course, you’re staying with him, he’s not letting you go. 

So. Many. Kisses. 

This man loves kissing you. He adores you so. 

A bath in his spacious tub is just what the doctor ordered. You lay against him and relax in the dim with only the light of candles. 

Finally lets himself cry. 

You shush him, kiss him and remind him that you love him and that you’re ok. 

He loves you so much he can't even express it. The thought of losing you kills him. 

He tries to push your hands away when you take a cloth to his paint. You’re the one who's been hurt and poked at all day, he’s supposed to be caring for you!

Eventually relents because you both know you need this. 

More kisses and mutual washing. You love seeing how his skin pinkens across his cheek, arms and back. It brings out the pretty freckles all over his body. 

When you both get into bed, tangled up again, Copia will whisper how much he loves you until he’s too tired to talk anymore. 

You both sleep like the dead.

masterlist ⛧ Ao3

[quaildoodle]

his body and blood 😩

[dantesunbreaker]

Napping with the Papas(Headcanons)

Mildly suggestive for Terzo, but otherwise is SFW

Primo

As the eldest of the Emeritus brothers, he is no stranger to the need for a midday nap

In fact, his schedule usually has “nap time” penciled in most days in the afternoon

So when you come to him shyly asking if you could nap together he is quick to reassure you there is nothing to be shy about, he would love nothing more than to have a nice relaxing nap with you

Enveloping you in one of the large sleeves of his chasuble, Primo escorts you to somewhere more quiet and secluded, somewhere comfortable

Sometimes it is in his chambers, a proper nap where you lie together beneath the blankets, limbs tangled and intertwined 

Other times it is in his office, curled up on the loveseat there, you resting back against his chest as he hold you in arms, chasuble acting as a blanket over the both of you

There have even been a few occasions in his gardens, both you relaxing on the bench feeding the birds, only to both unexpectedly doze off under the warmth of the sun

Each time is always filled with soft and loving kisses, sweet embraces that more than speak of the love you two share together

Sometimes, Primo will be the one to approach you, two cups of tea in hand with hopes for sharing a quiet nap together, whether it be due to his own need or his sense that you are working yourself to hard and refuse to admit your own need

Secondo

Good luck every getting him to admit it, but Secondo is excited whenever you come asking for him to join you for a nap

A relaxing break in the afternoon would be exactly what he needed, but refused to ever allow himself because that would admit to finally feeling his age

No matter what he is working on, Secondo will pause his work and softly lead you to his bedroom

But a nap with Secondo is never some quick rushed activity, he always gives you the full experience

Starts by having both of you undress and change into more suitable attire before climbing into the bed, and from there he gives you the most thorough massage

Once you are putty in his hands, he moves you both the rest comfortably under the sheets with you pulled to rest your head on his chest

You both fall asleep with you listening to the steady beat of his heart

Never sets an alarm, but somehow Secondo times it almost perfectly, waking you both from your nap after 30 minutes exactly, or an hour depending on how long of a day it’s been

Helps you redress and you walk together back to his office, parting with a soft parting kiss and plans to spend the night similarly after dinner

Terzo

Understandably, Terzo seems to misread the situation when he gets a text from you saying “Come lay in bed with me.”

Doesn’t matter if his working, playing UNO with his brothers, or talking with Omega, he is immediately dashing for your bedroom

The moment he is inside, Terzo is covering you in hungry kisses as he climbs onto the bed

You have to practically shove him off you just for enough pause to explain that isn’t what you had in mind, that you actually were just tired and were missing his company

Seems to deflate a bit, but just for a brief moment!

Because then he is immediately smothering you with kisses again, though this time softer and more loving instead of lust filled

Of course he will nap with you! Anything for his amore!

Shuffles under the covers with you and pulls you tight against his chest, holding you so you practically are lying on top of him

While most times, he won’t be tired enough to fall asleep himself, Terzo is content to lie there and simply run his fingers through your hair

Softly will sing some of his songs until your breathing slows as you succumb to slumber

Copia

Of course! You don’t have to ask Copia twice!

Sometimes it takes a bit more coaxing to get him to leave his work, but the moment you give a squeeze to his tense shoulders he always concedes

More often than not, the nap is entirely for Copia’s benefit

You can see how hard he works himself and know that he often isn’t getting enough sleep

It is you that pulls him back to his chambers, stripping him down from his many layer until just in his pants, shirt, and socks

He will drop into the bed, barely able to pull himself up to the pillows as he watches you pull back the blankets to lay beside him

Will be the one resting his head on your chest, your fingers playing with his soft graying hair as you slowly drift to sleep

You always wake up first, Copia curled up to your side and holding you possessively against him

Unless you know he has important matters that need attending, you will let him sleep as long as he wants as you hold him in your arms and admire him

The sweet soft look on Copia’s face as his eyes flutter open, looking up at you with the most innocent look of admiration makes it all so worth it

[ghulehunknown]

Undressing Papa Backstage,

A Drabble - Dom Copia x GN Reader

Warning - adult themes ahead!

NSFW below!

Tags: blowjob, unprotected penetrative sex, dom Copia

Word Count: 1.3K

Just imagine undressing him after a show backstage. He’s sweaty and he’s just told the audience to go fuck themselves, and he has similar plans in mind. You watch as he takes the final bow. His brow is glistening with beads of sweat, and his hair is a little damp. There’s a hunger in his gaze, his bottom lip falling slightly open as the lights go out.

Performing has him especially riled up this evening. He’s already pitching a tent in his painfully tight jeans by the time he turns to go backstage. And he wasn’t kidding about that violent shower. You had always wondered what exactly he meant, and envisioned him painting the walls in his ecstasy and making a mess of himself only to wash it down the drain.

And where was the fun in that, imagining? And what was the fun in doing it solo the whole tour, Copia wondered as well. You got to know him pretty well, in the quick changes in between songs. Small chatter, but mostly silence as you focused on your task at hand. But all the touches, feeling his body as you put his robes on and took them off, carefully smoothing his hair each time… it built something inside of you. And you think it did for him too.

“Excellent job, Papa,” you remark as he runs backstage again for the final time of the night. He’s out of breath and chugs the water bottle you hand him as you start to take his red jacket off one arm at a time.

“Mm-!” he mumbles while drinking. “Grazie, dear.” He’s still trying to catch his breath but slowly it returns to normal. “You eh, catch my line?”

Oh yes, of course you had. Since the start of tour you began keeping a tally of all the different ways he would tell the audience about fucking each other or themselves, and how he intended to do the same…

“Of course, Papa, I think the audience liked it,” you say with a smile as you hang up the red jacket for dry cleaning later on.

“And…what about you?” he says with a small smirk, looking at you as he begins to unbutton his shirt.

You blush. “I…” you begin, stepping forward to help him with his buttons as he fumbles around.

“You…?”

“Please, Papa…you’ve put me in a rather…precarious situation. I - I have a job to do, and I can’t be distracted. Don’t make me choose between what I want to do and what I have to do.” You look up at him, his shirt collar in your grasp. But you don’t sound convincing. Nor do you want to.

“I know tesoro, but you don’t have to worry about any of that. I want you. I’ve wanted you since they assigned you to me.” He’s touching your elbow now, gingerly brushing your arm with his thumb. “All this touching and no fucking, I can’t stand it.”

“Papa, I -” you start to say but before you can get the words out, he shoves you off him while undoing his pants in a hurry but tugs at it hopelessly just like the buttons on his shirt.

He curses in Italian and slumps his shoulders a bit, looking at you pathetically, giving up. “That was supposed to be seductive,” he said, frowning.

You can barely contain a smile. “This is why you need your wardrobe assistant,” you say, unlacing his pants and unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way. Your fingertips brush his sternum, feeling the few coarse hairs sprinkled across his chest.

Your breath catches in your throat. You kneel down to start taking off his pants past his waist before you realize - of course, how could you forget? These jeans don’t leave much to the imagination, and he forgoes undergarments just to get them over his hips.

“Something the matter?” he asks, looking down at you and wondering why you paused.

You shake your head and continue, this time yanking the jeans halfway down his thighs in short tugs. The tight fabric combined with his sweat doesn’t allow much wiggle room.

Finally his erection springs forth, completely hard and in your face. Your hands trail up the back of his thighs, until you’re cupping his supple ass. You give his cheeks a squeeze, eliciting a little chuckle from him. You bring one hand to his front, grabbing his cock in your fist and tilting it upwards towards your mouth.

He sighs and grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls your head back. Then he spits directly onto his shaft, saliva pooling around your hand. You work him up in your grasp, his spit giving you allowance to glide your fist around him smoothly.

You lean forward until your lips touch his flushed tip. You part your lips and kiss it gently before taking him in your mouth and sinking down on him fully, until his tip hits the back of your throat. You can smell his natural body odor mixed with his cologne at his base. He tastes salty from all the built up perspiration.

“Fuuuck,” he groans, clutching onto your hair harder. His eyes are closed as he rocks his body against your mouth, feeling every part of his cock enrobed.

You gag at first, but his thrusts don’t wait for you to catch your breath. He’s using you for his own pleasure, like his own little fuck doll.

Before he finishes, he pulls you off him roughly by the hair. You choke and sputter as he utters a gruff command.

You nod and obey him when he says, “I want you bent over the vanity.”

You quickly clear the scattered mess of things on the surface - his face paints, makeup brushes, tissues, setlists, water bottles - as he comes up behind you and yanks your trousers down your hips. He throws them to the side once your legs are free.

He pushes you flat against the vanity, your head turned to the side and your cheek laying down flat. He kicks your legs apart so they make a wide V shape. You hear him spit again, then again, this time in his hand. He reaches down to your core, massaging his saliva like it’s lube at your entrance.

You both moan in sync as he pushes into you, and you feel the initial stretch. Oh fuck! You had thought of this moment so many times while alone backstage with him, but truthfully never even knew how big his cock was until now. You had an idea, sizing the bulge in his pants. But he usually put his pants on by himself before shows, and took them off himself afterwards on his way to the shower, so you never saw this part of him. You wince as your walls contract around him to accommodate his size.

“Ah - fuuckk, s-so good -” he murmurs, thrusting in and out of you.

You lay there atop the table, feeling him pound into you over and over. You moan every time he brushes up against your little sweet spot deep inside you.

“You like that, mm? My little assistant,” he growls in your ear, and as you look up into the mirror you see him smirking and looking into your eyes. He spanks your ass, leaving a red handprint.

You yelp as he bends your left arm behind your back, keeping a firm grip there to steady himself as he continues drilling into you. Your body bounces on the table as you watch both your faces contort in passion in the mirror. The hairspray bottle and his cologne are dangerously close to falling off the table.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum -” he says breathlessly, pulling out of you quickly. You peer up into the mirror again and see him looking down and just when you wonder - warm, thick liquid splashes all over you, painting your backside as he coaxes out his seed.

You lay there in a daze as he pulls some tissues from the box next to you, cleaning himself off and aimlessly cleaning you off too, though it’s more of a smear.

Then he says, “Undress. Get in the shower. We’re just getting started.”

[earthry]

Hello! Humbly requesting a HC of reader sending the Papa’s nudes.

Thank you for the request! I hope you don't mind that these aren't very detailed or as smutty as probably expected

tw: tiny bit spicy, riling the papas up

Primo

Peepaw’s still got it going on.

Will call you immediately and huskily ask you if you’re alone. When you tell him you are, he’ll instruct you step by step to touch yourself.

Turns into phone sex and you learn just how hot it is to hear him dominant and desperate at the same time.

When you’re both spent, he’ll come find you afterwards so he can give you proper aftercare and a very appreciative thank you for the nudes.

In the moment he can be pretty intense but afterwards he’s a teddy bear.

Secondo

Screenshots it and puts it as his Home Screen.

Will send you very detailed dirty talk about what he wants and will do to you the next time you’re both alone.

More affected by the nude then he lets on— will end up getting off to it and then sending you a photo of his own, telling you that you’d better take responsibility.

Terzo

Sends nudes back and fuck are they good. He knows the perfect poses and angles to really show himself off.

You’re the one who ends up flustered instead.

You end up finding him and jumping his bones and the two of you make love while you giggle and laugh because sex is supposed to be fun.

Afterwards he’ll give you tips and tricks on how to take better nudes because he’s a homie.

Copia

Almost has a heart attack and then almost drops his phone and then because he almost drops his phone, almost has a second heart attack.

Is not used to getting nudes and holy fucking shit you’re so hot fuck fuck— he needs like a solid ten minutes to get his brain functioning again.

You’re a little worried when the message reads as ‘✅ read’ but you don’t get a response. You’re about to apologize for sending the picture when he finally messaged you back and it’s just him asking where you are right now.

Hunts you down like a predator after he’s collected himself— he’s practically insatiable. You get a very thorough introduction to how he handles being sent nudes and you don’t regret it one bit.

[tasty-ribz]

READER:

COPIA I-I REALLY LIKE YOU, YOU'RE REALLY HANDSOME A-AND IF YOU WANT WE CAN GO ON A

D-DATE..

SO..WHAT DO YOU THINK?

UMMM? HELLO?

RAT BOY RECEIVING HIS FIRST COMPLIMENT AND LOVE CONFESSION IN HIS LIFE:

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 1st

Pegging, Papa Emeritus IV x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 2.2k.

Warnings: Pegging; established relationship; praise kink; anal fingering (m receiving); anal sex (m receiving); fellatio; use of sex toys; sub!Copia; soft dom!Reader (but you’re still a little mean to him); gender neutral!reader (but reader does have a vulva); mild humiliation kink; hella fluffy because Copia deserves the world; premature ejaculation; overstimulation; tears; happy ending.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

It didn’t take much to get him all worked up. Depending on the kind of day he’d had, it could just even be a look that got Copia ready and waiting for you to do whatever you wanted. He was an easy mother fucker, especially for the right mother - or rather - person.

Which is how he ended up spread-eagle on his bed, one of his pillows in his mouth as your fingers went deep inside his tight hole. His cock was rock hard and bounced a little every time you touched a sensitive spot and made his hips buck. Although his eyes remained tightly closed and that was something you couldn’t abide by. Not only was he keeping his desperate whimpers to a minimum, he refused to let you see the needy look on his face. You tutted and removed your fingers from him.

Immediately, his lids opened in terror and his gaze snapped to you. “No! Per favore! Don’t stop, ti scongiuro!” In his need, he sat up and began peppering kisses all over your face. “Amore mio, per favore non fermarti. I need more, please.”

“But your eyes were closed, baby.” You responded, your tone somewhat condescending especially for a man twice your age. “You were quiet. I didn’t think you were enjoying it.”

His kisses became more ferocious but his hands were clinging onto your neck. “Non è vero! It’s not true. I love it. Ti amo. Please, dolcezza. Please give me more.” This was so far from the Papa you’d grown to know - this was exactly how the Cardinal acted. Touch starved and desperate. Yet here was the head of the Satanic Church fumbling his words and begging for release.

He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. While he was still sat up a little, you moved your hand sneakily towards his hole and began rubbing over it once more. This earned you a loud yet surprised moan. With a little extra lube, you slid a third finger in and felt one of his hands clasp your forearm. He wasn’t whimpering as much, but he was breathing heavily, as though he were trying to stave off an impending orgasm.

Taunting your Papa was the most fun thing to do, especially when he was all spread out in front of you at your complete and total mercy. He didn’t expect anything from you, especially when you were knuckle deep inside of him. So when you leaned forward and ran your tongue up his cock from base to tip, he screamed and bucked again. “Merda.” He whined. “What are you try-trying to do to your Papa? Do you want to kill me, dolcezza?”

You chuckled a small, evil laugh before responding. “Of course not, Papa. But when you look so deliciously tempting, I can’t help myself.” Finding that spot inside of him now that you had three fingers working at him was easy. Combine that with what your mouth was doing and he was convinced he was going to have a heart attack. Your mouth, now quiet had taken the entire head of his cock into your mouth, and was gently sucking on it.

“Amore mio, if you keep doing this Papa will not last.”

You removed your lips from him and looked up at him through your eyelashes. “You don’t want to cum?”

“I do!”

“In my mouth?”

He shook his head so you stopped moving your fingers. “NO!” He replied when he realised what you were doing. You continued your ministrations, rewarding him for his words.

“On my fingers?”

“No, dolcezza, please.”

“Well, where would you like to cum, Papa?” Calling him Papa while he was submitting to you felt criminal. Papa was for the strongest of leaders, Papa was for the leaders who bent others into submission. Papa wasn’t for the shy, clumsy and awkward men who willingly spread themselves for their partners. But here yours was - ready, willing, waiting, and humiliated beyond satisfaction.

“Non farmi dire questo.” His hands now were covering his face in embarrassment.

“I can’t make you feel good if you don’t tell me where you want to cum.”

He muffled something only his hands caught. So you gently prized them apart gently with your free hand to see his bright red face, and his bottom lip stuck between his teeth. “Tell me, my love. Where do you want to cum?”

He took in a deep breath. “On your cock!” He exclaimed quickly.

“Good boy.” Your praise affected him more than he would like to say, but his hole clenched around your fingers as it registered in his brain. “Do you think you’re ready for it?”

“Sì.”

You kissed his lips softly before pulling your fingers out of him. He whined into your mouth at the lost of you, and as you tried to break the kiss he kept following you. He was clingier than usual. “I won’t go far, precious. I promise.” You said when your lips were finally free.

He chased you to the edge of the bed and watched you strap yourself into the harness. His hands were aching to get hold of you again, but knew he needed to be patient for you. You went to the bedside drawer and pulled out one of the dildos you’d both selected online months prior, and his eyes were completely fixated on it as you attached it to the harness. It wasn’t overwhelmingly big, but big enough that it would stretch him out more than your fingers would.

Knowing how clingy he was feeling, you went straight back to him and immediately wrapped him in your arms, his head falling on your chest. His hands gripped your waist tightly as he took in your scent. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” He said.

“Do you think you can lube it up for me?” He nodded and leaned across to the bedside table to grab the lube and poured some onto the toy. “Make sure you get it nice and wet for me, yeah?”

He nodded again. Both of you were transfixed by his hand touching the dildo, wrapping around it and spreading the lube up and down as though he were stroking a real cock. You were both silent as you listened to the squelching of the liquid in between his hands as he rubbed, losing his mind to the thought of it finally entering him. As soon as he thought it was ready, he nodded and lay back eagerly. His legs spread once again, and you watched him deposit the leftover lubricant into his waiting and stretched hole. You waited until his hand was removed before you climbed over him.

You kissed his sensitive neck, and travelled all the way up to his mouth, where you gave him a deep and gentle kiss - another touch that made him whimper. He bucked up one final time, and groaned at the feeling of his cock rubbing against yours.

“I’m ready, amore mio. Per favore. I need it.”

You lined yourself up with his waiting hole. “Tell me when you need to stop, okay?”

“Okay.”

As you breached his walls, his mouth fell open in an ‘o’ shape, his eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. You were slow with your movements, almost maddeningly so, and his hands flew to your biceps and gripped tightly. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed, a lot more loudly than he intended.

You stopped. “Are you okay?”

He could barely breathe. “It feels incredible.” He propped himself up enough to reach your cheeks and began kissing you again. “More. More, please.”

You obliged and continued to push into him until the dildo was all the way inside him. He kept kissing you as you paused, waiting for him to get accustomed to the feeling. He, on the other hand, had different ideas. As he was kissing you, he also began to slowly rock up and down, feeling your cock move inside of him. “I take it you want me to move, hm?”

“Please!” He begged.

And so, you did. Gently at first so you didn’t hurt him, but as his moans became louder, you understood he was ready for a bit more handling. So, your thrusts got faster and faster.

Until you watched him spasm beneath you, his breath knocked out of him and his mouth wide open. You looked between you to where you were connected, and watched as the remains of his seed spilled out of him. Much faster than both of you had hoped, but he was so worked up you were surprised he lasted that long.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated that over and over again, tears forming in his eyes from his overwhelming emotions.

You were still inside him. “Can you give me one more, Copia?”

He seemed shocked at the sudden use of his name. He thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Words, please.”

“Yes, amore mio. I can give you one more.”

“Good boy.”

He keened at your praise but hissed when you pulled out. You were gentle, tentative, but you wanted to wreck him a little more. So, when you were sure he could take it, you didn’t hold back.

His grip on your arm returned but this time much harder, fingernails digging in and holding on for dear life. Your thrusts were almost brutal, but you knew he was living for it. Each one punctuated with his sounds - whether they were outright overstimulated screams, chokes, or even the sound of his hole sucking the toy back in. He was practically singing. Your moans would occasionally join the cacophony of sounds, not because you were feeling particularly good, but because you knew he appreciated them.

You stopped once more to pull out and hear his groans of disappointment. “I want you to ride me,” you told him, “let me see you take my cock.”

Copia gulped but nodded. He had never allowed himself to be so exposed before, and he certainly had never been the top in this position. He felt himself getting shy again, and if it wasn’t you he wouldn’t even attempt it. With a hiss, he climbed onto you and lowered himself down. His cock was red and angry, and dried cum stained his stomach from his first orgasm and had been forgotten about until just then. He looked positively sinful, sweaty and blushing red.

In order to help him find a rhythm, you held onto his hands and pinned your elbows to the bed, giving him the leverage he needed to work his hips over the dildo, expletives in Italian being mumbled in between his whimpers. Once he found a rhythm and forgot how exposed he was, he let your hands go and began bouncing on his own, using you to get himself off. Your hands were now free, and one clutched onto his bouncing cock and begin to stroke it.

“Tell me how you feel, Papa.”

“Si se-sente bene.”

“Bene?” Your voice was back to condescending. “Only bene? Poor Papa, struggling to pull a decent sentence together.”

“I-”

“You’re so tight and desperate for cock, aren’t you, Papa?” He nodded emphatically. “Do you feel good riding me like this? Taking me for your own pleasure?”

“Dolcezza, per favore!”

“What, Papa? What do you want?”

“I need more.”

“More what?”

“Y-your hand… please.” You stopped stroking his cock. “No! You can’t do this - your - Your hand, stroke my cock, please!” Your hand gripped him again. “Tighter, please.” You obliged now that he was using his words. “Merda! F-feels good. So good. I can’t stop.” He was riding you harder now, his own words egging him on and sending him closer and closer to the edge.

“Do you want to cum, Papa?”

“Sì.”

“Cum for me, Papa. Cum all over me.”

Sure enough, his second orgasm spilled from him. His hips twitched erratically as he covered you in his seed, gasping for air as though he was suffocating. He couldn’t make any noise even if he wanted to - he couldn’t even hear you talking him through it. All he could feel was your tight hand wrapped around his sensitivity and still pumping him until he was completely spent. Not to mention the dildo still in his hole, keeping still while he wiggled and providing him with aftershocks that could bring his sanity crumbling down. He collapsed onto you, completely unable to move himself, and it fell upon you to make him come back to reality.

You stroked his hair and kept talking him through it, waiting until his ears stopped ringing enough to listen to your instructions. Eventually, he came to, and lay on his side after he’d painfully dragged himself off of you and waited for you to remove the harness and come back.

His eyes were closed from exhaustion and he jumped in surprise when he felt your hand on his thigh. “I’m sorry, I have to clean you up.”

“Va bene. Grazie, amore mio.” His voice was weak, but there was a lazy smile on his face.

As soon as you were finished, you came back to bed and wrapped him in your arms. “You were so good for me, Copia.”

He moved his head level to you. “You’re always good to me.”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day