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her-satanic-wiles · 5 months ago

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Dawn Chorus - VIII

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 8.2k.

Reading Time: 33 min.

Warnings: Catholic guilt, cum swap, cunnilingus, divine voyeurism?, fellatio, finger sucking, free use fantasy, frottage, masturbation, pillow humping, praise kink, references to non-con, references to rape kink, references to somnophilia, self slut shaming, semi-public masturbation, this may be the horniest thing I’ve ever written

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @dolceterzo @whitepawfics @howlingco @sirianisrock @amaridelphi @katiegvf

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this fic is quite dark, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my decision. Thank you.

You spent more time in your cage since the wine cellar, actively not wanting to leave. For the first time since he put you in there, you felt safer behind bars than you felt outside of them. The Cardinal - or Copia (you weren’t sure what you should call him after… that) - went straight to his bed and fell asleep, not bothering to lock you in. As far as he was concerned, you weren’t a danger, nor had you misbehaved. You put yourself in there of your own volition, and you could remove yourself as you pleased.

Waking up the next evening, he was still conservative and modest about exposing himself to you as he got dressed for the night ahead, as though the night before had never happened, changing in the bathroom and leaving you to your thoughts in his room. He came back in, adorned in a different cassock from last night (a black one), and picked up his biretta from the dresser.

He cleared his throat, “Last night,” he began, not looking at you at all, “you regret it, right?” He didn’t wait for your answer. “Let’s just pretend it never happened, okay?”

You nodded, which he could see out the corner of his eye. He nodded too, put his biretta on, then turned to leave before hesitating at the door. “I won’t lock you in today, Angel,” he continued, “Your halo is still locked away, and you’ll have a ghoul to guard you, so go wherever you like.”

“Th-thank you.” You said, your voice gravelly from your sleep.

The Cardinal nodded and then left, making sure the front door clicked behind him. You heard him addressing one of the ghouls that stood guard at his front door and then the corridor fell silent, indicating that he’d gone for good. You were now free to wander around.

You wanted to leave - to take those books back to the library and pick new ones. But you couldn’t bring yourself to face anyone. You were sure they’d be able to see your transgressions on your face, that they’d know simply by looking at you that the Cardinal had sullied you and your good name and pure body the night before, while you both were drunk no less. Numerous sins were committed last night, and you weren’t sure you’d ever get the forgiveness you once craved, especially now.

You wandered into the Cardinal’s bathroom and turned the taps, remembering how to work the tub since the Cardinal taught you the first time. You hadn’t used this tub often, on account of your wings getting in the way, but your time in there had been most relaxing the last time, you felt like you needed to use it again.

Upon removing your robes, you let them drop to the floor where you stood, the fabric easily sliding off your body and pooling at your feet. Bubbles grew and popped in the water as it gathered in the centre, and filled up to perfection, making the room smell like eucalyptus and mint, immediately calming your mind and shushing all the doubts and worries that had plagued you for God knew how long.

You sunk into the warm water and your body relaxed instantly. You could practically feel the sin washing off of you from last night’s escapades, bubbles gathering around your skin and hiding your body as though they were protecting you from further violation, welcome or otherwise. You were able to quash most of your thoughts, bury them in a box and file them away in your mind, never to be looked at again. You sighed and relaxed further back, allowing your head to lull against the porcelain. If you weren’t already awake, you’d have no problem falling asleep in here.

“Given a body and not shown how to use it.”

Your eyes snapped open as you heard the Cardinal’s voice, clear as though he were standing right beside you despite you being alone in the room. The sound of his voice made your heart race, a sharp reminder of what had happened between you only the night before. You felt guilt enveloping you, threatening to drown you in its oppressive grip. The shame soaked into every part of your being and clung to you like a second skin. You were powerless to overcome it.

“You never touched yourself, have you?”

The quiet of the moment was broken by the eerie repetition of his words, which lingered in your thoughts. You couldn’t help but feel as if you had betrayed the very essence of your celestial nature, as if you had failed in some fundamental way.

“Virgins are so easy to please. So quick to cum.”

You dipped further into the water, as though trying to drown out the voice in your head that was claiming you. However, the marks left by your brief mistake and the stains of your indiscretion would not go away with any amount of water.

Your acts threatened to smother you under their crushing weight, bearing down on you like a heavy burden. You had deviated from the straight and narrow, giving in to want and temptation in a moment of weakness. And now you were left to consider the implications of your choices as you sat in the peaceful solitude of the bathtub.

Though guilt and regret weighed heavily on your mind, there was a part of you that couldn’t shake the pure pleasure that had flowed through your veins during your meetings with the Cardinal. There was an irresistible thrill in the restricted, a forbidden pleasure that sent shivers down your spine and ignited your body with desire, even with all the weight of your transgressions.

You had given in to the seductive pull of passion with every touch and caress, losing yourself in the intense ecstasy of the moment. You felt the Cardinal’s hands on your flesh, his lips on your body, kindling a fierce fire inside of you that would eventually consume you.

The sensation of his touch remained on your skin as you lay in the bath, a lingering reminder of the pleasure you had experienced together. You knew it was a sinful pleasure and you shouldn’t have indulged in it, but you couldn’t help but feel so satisfied after those delicious moments.

“The beauty of this form is that you can give yourself pleasure whenever you want.”

You bit your lip as you remembered how he felt, thick and heavy against your centre, rutting against you violently as he took his pleasures from your body. As you lost yourself in the memory, you noticed you were reacting in a similar way to last night; your heart rate rising, pulse quickening, the blood pumping through your veins much faster than before, your nipples now standing erect and sensitive as your breasts heaved with the rise and fall of your exerted breathing, the warm water running over the peaks and somehow stimulating them.

That was all bad enough, but your clit had begun tingling, too, exactly how it had when the Cardinal was teaching you about your body. His phantom thumb rolled over the nerves and had your hips bucking upwards, legs involuntarily spreading and waiting for someone to come and relieve your suffering.

“You can give yourself pleasure whenever you want.”

You can.

You shouldn’t.

Your mind telling you “no” didn’t stop your hand from trailing down your body, running over one of your nipples and making you hiss out in pleasure. Your mind telling you “no” couldn’t possibly stop your fingers from curling around your mound, allowing your middle finger to land where you needed it most. Just the mere connection of the pad of your finger sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, making you gasp at the contact.

You remembered how the Cardinal moved his thumb to get you to cry out, and so, you copied his actions, swirling your middle finger in tight circles to replicate the feeling. And, oh. It felt exquisite. Not quite as divine as the Cardinal’s gloves melting into your flesh as they had done, but even still, it was good enough to steal noises from your throat; making your eyes shut to allow you to just feel. Little, breathy “ah”’s falling from your lips as the water sloshed around your thrusting hips, squirming beneath your own touch as you had his.

You applied more pressure and began moving your finger a little faster, crying out at the feeling. Your mind showed you the Cardinal’s face, reddened beneath his white skin as he rut against you, sweat pooling on his brow and that animalistic look in his eyes that made you feel so small and helpless beneath him, despite your impressive strength. With the fluttering of your hole around nothing, you were reminded of the way that the tip of his being kept catching on it, and how you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach flipped. He told you he wanted to bury himself deep inside you, feel you from a different point. You saw the disappointment in his eyes that reflected the emotion in your heart as he promised not to break that boundary you’d set in the moment.

But you wanted him to. God, you wanted him to take you there and then, spear you on himself and force you to sin with him…

Your eyes snapped open and you pulled your hand away. He could be watching right now - the Almighty, whom you’d so quickly and happily forsaken twice now in less than twelve hours. The water poured off your body as you stood, and climbed out of the porcelain tub, catching a glimpse of your flushed and lust-filled skin as you exited and entered dry land. You wrapped a towel around yourself, not bothering to pick up your robe as you trudged through the apartments and into the Cardinal’s bedroom.

“You think your god is watching one of his angels get - fuck! - ruined by a son of Satan?”

You shook your head, and slammed the heels of your palms against your temple, trying to rid yourself of his words - despite the excitement bubbling in your stomach at the notion.

What good could your God do now? You may have forsaken Him, but didn’t He do that to you first? So what if He watched? So what if He knew that you’d sinned? That you touched yourself just once to a memory of your own transgressions? Just one more time… one more orgasm wouldn’t hurt as you were already in so much trouble. You could go to confession after, tell a priest your sins and be reassured that He would forgive you now that you owned up to your mistake.

Just once more.

You walked over to the Cardinal’s bed and ran your hand over the soft, smooth velvet, the red darkening under your touch as you stroked it gently. A wave of contradictory feelings passed through you as your fingers traced over the Cardinal’s rich bedspread. Shame mixed with longing, guilt with desire, and the sensations swirled around you, threatening to overwhelm you.

The Cardinal’s words lingered in your thoughts, a sneaky voice that aroused deep-seated fears and desires that you were unable to ignore. You were drawn irreversibly towards the forbidden temptation of indulging in pleasure and giving in to the sinful desires that had been reawakened within you.

You allowed the towel to fall from your body, and climbed upon the bed, letting the velvet to engulf your naked flesh as you stretched out atop it. You’d spent many hours in this bed, sleeping, modest, covered. You’d never had the opportunity to truly feel it beneath your skin and how luxurious it felt. Sinning in style.

You reached for the Cardinal’s pillow with trembling hands, grazing the plush material with your fingers as you imagined him by your side. The recollection of his touch and his passionately whispered words caused you to feel a deep ache, and stoked a fire that burned with extreme intensity.

You brought that pillow to your face, smelling the scent of his cologne and skin imprinted on the fabric, remembering that scent mixed with his sweat. You were practically intoxicated again, overcome with hunger and desperation.

But a voice of reason whispered cautions in the back of your mind, even as you yearned to lose yourself in the heat of passion once more. You were aware of the repercussions of giving in to temptation, of the cost of breaking your word and giving in to the thoughts of forbidden desires.

You lay on your back, spreading and flattening your white wings out comfortably, not taking into account the stark contrast of the blood red beneath you, and the purity of your body. You kept clutch on that pillow as you let your hand travel down your navel and pick up where you left off, this time the sensitivity from your first escapade heightening your experience, and making you call out louder than before.

You rocked against your hand, giving yourself over to the pleasure coursing through your body, toes curling into the mattress as you worked yourself to completion. It felt so good. Clearing your mind of all wrongdoing to focus on the sensation, your hand working faster and faster.

Hitting that spot.

Right there!

Yes!

“Fuck!”

Your own voice echoed the Cardinal’s from last night, the profanities that tumbled from his mouth in the throes of passion infected you, and somehow made your touch feel just a little better. Just a few more circles into your flesh and you came undone, your back arching off the bed and your whole body shutting down as your orgasm washed over you, nothing moving except your finger as it worked over your clit continuously to draw out that feeling for as long as possible.

Your breathing was laboured when your orgasm finally subsided, and you crumpled onto the bed in a blissful heap. Disbelief clouded your mind for a second, unable to fathom how you’d lived for so long and not experienced such a feeling - and how it took a son of Satan to show you the light. But that was that. You’d never do it again. You made a promise to yourself there and then as you righted the Cardinal’s bed, cleaned the towel away, and dressed yourself in your robes again. Except, this time, your nipples were still sensitive and rubbed against the fabric, keeping your pleasure at the forefront of your mind.

The Cardinal and you set into a dance for the following week, as you both were avoiding each other as much as possible. He wouldn’t look at you, just dress and leave, and you’d be left to your own devices. You didn’t have the strength to leave the apartment, nor did you want to. Despite your promise to yourself, the second the Cardinal had closed the door, you removed your robes, climbed onto his bed and touched yourself, damn near addicted to the feeling.

You grappled with the act again, trying to convince yourself that you shouldn’t dig yourself into a deeper hole, that no matter how much confessing you did, one day you’d cross the line and be entirely unforgivable. Yet, it didn’t stop your body yearning to be touched, to be savoured, to give you the most pleasure while it could, because it couldn’t stop wanting. And so, despite the internal conflict and war zone that was occurring in your mind, you climbed onto his bed and gave yourself over, yet again, to pleasure.

Your hands were getting used to your touches by the middle of the week, allowing you to just go by muscle memory as you played with yourself. Sometimes, your mind would show you images of the Cardinal in the wine cellar, replay the whole scene frame by frame until you came at the thoughts. But sometimes, sometimes your brain would insert new scenes, new wants and wishes for you to think about every time you saw the Cardinal’s face. How you’d remember the victorious few in Canaan celebrate their wins and insert both yourself and the Cardinal into their places.

You imagined the Cardinal pressing you against a wall, burying himself inside you as he took you from behind, his hands pinching your nipples just as he told you to do in the wine cellar.

You imagined him slipping inside you in the wine cellar, giving into his own desires and not caring a peep about your own - using your body as the Lord did, except your pleasure came as a side effect.

You’d bury your face into his sheets and inhale his scent, clutching onto his pillow as you did the first time when you took yourself to his bed. But that action would end up opening a whole new door for you. The way that your body had sat meant the pillow grazed against your nipple every single time you squirmed, and even though it felt great, you got a better idea.

You pushed that pillow down your body with both hands, and wrapped your thighs around it keeping the edge of the pillow pressed against your folds. At first, you moved the pillow against your body, but your arms grew tired too quickly, and your hips ended up taking over, grinding them against the plushness.

You switched positions, for the first time getting off your back and onto your knees, stroking yourself with the pillow beneath you - and it felt better than before. Would the Cardinal allow you to do this to him? Would he lie beneath you as you took what you wanted from him, like the whores of Babylon did for their clients?

You bit your lip at the thought - the Cardinal treating you like his own, personal whore. How he’d take you over and over again, and make you serve him like you served your God. Why did you want this? Why did you want to get on your knees for this man? And why was his title falling from your lips as you fucked yourself against the very pillow he slept on?

You brought yourself over the edge twice in that way, the first time not keeping you satiated long enough to last the rest of the day.

Each day that passed made you more desperate than the first, guilt gnawing away at you as you’d violate yourself over and over again, but being unable to stop it from happening. Even the Cardinal breathing as he slept had you needing to rush into the living room, hike your robes up to your thighs, straddle the arm of the couch and work yourself to completion, hand over your mouth to muffle your needy sounds.

You realised in that moment that you didn’t truly face restrictions anymore, and it both thrilled and frightened you.

Guilt gnawed away at Copia, too, except for him it wasn’t because of divine intervention or other such ridiculousness. For him it was mixed in with sadness that you, the very object of his desires, just didn’t want him in the same way. You’d consented in the wine cellar, and Hell, you really enjoyed yourself, that much he knew to be true. But Copia felt the oppressive weight of sadness bearing down on his shoulders, suffocating him with its firm hold. The disappointment that was eating away at him, the bitter taste of rejection that lingered on his tongue like a poisonous pill, was something he was unable to get rid of.

Despite the intoxicating passion you two had shared in the wine cellar, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of unease that persisted in the back of his mind. He was aware that you had given your consent to that passionate encounter, but something in your eyes afterwards, a glimmer of doubt or hesitation, left him feeling empty and hollow inside.

For the briefest moment, he allowed himself to think that you wanted him as much as he did. But now that evening had broken through the illusion, all that remained was the harsh, cold reality of his unfulfilled desire.

Memories of that fateful night in the wine cellar replayed themselves in Copia’s head like a scratched record, every detail seared into his memory with agonising clarity. No matter how hard he tried, the vivid images that danced behind his closed eyelids and haunted him like ghosts from the past wouldn’t go away.

His ears echoed of your wanton moans, how they oozed with pleasure you’d never felt before that sent a wave of goosebumps up and down his body, hardening his cock at the thought.

With the room filled with the gentle glow of candles and the flickering flames creating long shadows on the walls, he was sitting by himself at his desk. His work was left undisturbed as he was preoccupied with thoughts of your euphoric presence, your gentle touch, and your passionately whispered words.

He couldn’t forget the way your body jiggled, the way you were so innocent and supple. The frantic beating of your heart as you practically hung off his dick. Lucifer - he needed it. He needed you.

Copia sighed heavily as he ran a hand through his messy hair, longing and frustration fighting inside of him like rivals. His thoughts were constantly focused on you, your image ingrained in his memory like a brand, making it difficult for him to concentrate or focus on the task at present.

Fucking his hand at his desk wasn’t his finest moment, but it was a necessary evil in the grand scheme of things. He remembered how good your mouth felt around his thumb, and ended up cumming all over his papers at the thought of you swallowing every drop he gave you - whether it poured down your throat or into your womb, it made no difference to him.

On top of his already troubled mind, Copia felt the weight of Sister Imperator’s scrutiny bearing down on him. Her persistent threats to interfere with your interrogating and even take over the Satanic Church did nothing but increase his nervousness and erode his faith in his own abilities.

Sister Imperator was not someone to be taken lightly, and her disappointment with his performance only made him feel more insecure. He tried so hard to keep up a front of competence and poise, but he couldn’t get rid of the sense that he wasn’t doing enough to fulfill his responsibilities as your carer and as the leader of the Church.

Every threat he received from Sister Imperator was like a knife to his pride, a constant reminder of his flaws and shortcomings. He was aware that he had to perform better in order to take back control of the situation and establish that he was suitable for his position in the Church hierarchy. However, despite his best efforts, he was unable to shake off the doubt that hung over him like a ten-tonne weight.

Copia could not deny the noticeable change in your demeanour since that evening. He was deeply struck by the subtle avoidance in your movements and the way your cheeks flushed whenever your eyes met his. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret deep in his chest, knowing he had embarrassed and made you uncomfortable.

He couldn’t help but notice your attempts to stay away from him and felt a little sorry for you. He had thought that the closeness you two had would strengthen your bond, but it appeared to have pushed a wedge between you. He wanted to be there for you, to help you overcome the growing gap between you, but he was afraid to invade your personal space because he knew you needed time to process what had happened between you.

He did, however, get a sneaking suspicion that you were no longer as innocent as you made out to be. He tucked himself into bed one morning and lay his head on the pillow, eager for a day of sleep when he smelled something different about his room.

The smell on his pillow was familiar, and it made his heart skip a beat. He stopped, trying to figure out the source of the scent that was now filling the room with his enhanced senses. The scent was subtle and seductive, stirring something deep inside of him.

He took a deep breath and the aroma surrounded him, enveloping him in a blanket of desire and warmth. And suddenly, he realised what was going on. It was your smell, distinctive and unmistakable, but with a distinct twist as it seeped into the pillow’s material. That same smell had lingered on his hand after the wine cellar, your cunt tormenting him from the leather of his glove for days after. He couldn’t bring himself to wash it away, instead choosing to let it linger until it naturally faded.

You’d been touching yourself, he was sure of it.

Copia felt a shiver run down his spine as a flicker of longing ignited within him at the realisation. He recalled the warmth of your body against his, the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips, and the softness of it against his lips. Strong and all-consuming, the memory flooded his mind, making him feel both regret and desire at the same time.

The memory urged his hand down his pyjama pants with his stained pillow pressed to his nose, inhaling you and making himself cum quietly so as not to wake you.

Yet moments before his orgasm hit, he heard you leave the room, and didn’t return. When he woke up that evening, he found you passed out on the sofa, cheeks flushed and thighs exposed beneath your skirts that had lifted in your sleep. He bent down and could smell you on the arm of the sofa, and instantly he felt his cock stiffen once again. You were so tempting, just lying there after humping the furniture like a dog in heat, sweet on the eye yet sinful in the mind. He could have just slid into you there and then and had his way with you, but instead he took to fucking his hand in the shower once again.

His suspicions were finally confirmed the very next night, returning home a little earlier than normal to find you in a precarious position.

Your back was to the door, and you couldn’t hear him enter over the sound of your own moans as you rubbed yourself on the arm of his desk chair, entirely without clothes. Your wings hung loosely behind you, shifting as your hips moved back and forth on the upholstered section of the arm, little thrusts that had you gasping and whining, sounding delightful each time.

And you had no idea he was there, just losing yourself in the pleasure, clit dragging along the fabric and, as he got closer, both hands on both nipples, pinching and pulling to add to the sensation. Your movements were so fluid, it was painfully obvious how experienced you were now - no longer the pure angel he’d defiled in the cellar. A small part of him was angry that he hadn’t been involved in this whole process, that he hadn’t got to witness your journey with self-pleasure and diving deeper and deeper into corruption of your own free will. The other part of him recognised that you were feral because of him and his cock, and how desperate you were to recreate that.

Fuck - your scent filled the entire room to the point where it smelled like sex and had his cock chubbing up beneath his cassock. If you let him, he’d bend you over his desk and fuck you until you passed out - probably wouldn’t even stop then.

He waited; bade his time until he could watch you cum again, the muscles in your back spasming as you finally tipped over the edge. The way your body froze and your breath hitched was delightful, and had sent shivers down his spine and blood rushing to his core making him fully hard and gagging for you. He could fantasise about the dark as much as he wanted, but there was nothing that made him more unhinged than watching his partner cum. Nothing made him more possessed than the way the body looked as it orgasmed, how it sounded and tasted.

Your blood was so much sweeter now, he could smell it pumping through your veins much faster than usual. Obviously, he knew that blood was sweeter after an orgasm, but even so, yours was a calling. He was a bee to honey. He wanted a taste of you so badly.

In the throes of your passion, you couldn’t hear him approach. You could hear the beating of your own heart and the sound of your breaths rising and falling with the exertion.

“Having fun without me, I see,” he whispered into your ear.

You jumped out of your skin, screaming when you saw him in your peripheral vision, falling onto the seat of the chair with your right leg still hanging over the arm, your left keeping you upright with your foot planted on the floor. He had a smug grin on his face, his mouth lifting up on its right corner and that same dark look in his eyes that he had before. His left hand was on the back of the antique chair as he leaned on it, staring down at you with those eyes that told you he was hungry. Your right hand was also on the back of the chair to hold you upright, while the other rested on the desk as you were pushed to sit in between the wooden arms sideways, looking up at him with wide, doe eyes that made him groan. One of your wings had fallen, and was resting largely on the floor. The other had been pinned against you and the upholstery.

It didn’t escape you how close his fingers were to yours, nor that you were still completely naked and bearing the weight of his gaze. The way your body had fallen and steadied itself had left your core wide open, spread out and glistening in the warm light of the room and so cold from the air teasing it as your sensitivity began to set in.

He put his right hand on top of yours on the desk and leaned over your body, effectively trapping you where you fell and hovering above you. His weight wasn’t entirely put onto your hand, meaning you could move it if you wanted to. But the shock had rendered you immobile - well, the shock and the look in his eyes.

“If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask,” he said, voice low and gruff like it was down in the wine cellar.

He was hardly touching you, barely near you, yet you felt as though he was suffocating you completely. You were hot, the strength of his gaze warming a flush on your cheeks and ensnaring you in his trap while you remained breathless and helpless. And needy.

He was offering himself to you on a golden platter, praying that you’d say yes. Waiting for that word to fall from your mouth.

He taunted you further, “Did you think I didn’t know? Did you think I couldn’t smell you everywhere? Was there a piece of furniture that you didn’t drag this needy little cunt all over, hm? Even my pillow couldn’t escape your horny little rampage.”

Your eyes kept moving from his eyes to his lips, watching his mouth form words underneath his moustache, and thinking about how it would feel elsewhere.

“Will you ask for it, angel?” he asked, his tone more decisive. “Or will you tell me to walk away?”

He watched your eyes as they moved around his face, and could practically hear the cogs turning in your mind. You were seriously considering it. It amused him.

Without warning, you launched yourself upwards, pulling your hand out from underneath his and wrapping your arms around his neck to keep you steady. Your lips crashed onto his, a desperate, inexperienced kiss that was all teeth and tongue, but totally conveyed your ferality and your need to be ravaged. All shame flew out the window when you pressed your naked body against his cassock, feeling his hardness pressed against you but dampened by the fabric.

He grunted at the action, but immediately flew into his response. His hands came to your waist and clutched onto you, holding you steady and relieving the pressure from his neck as he held you upright. You whimpered between the smack of your lips together as his tongue entered your mouth, less bloody than before but still so breathtaking. You wanted him to take everything from you now, Almighty be damned. So far from the angel you were since you came here, now you were eagerly spreading your legs for a vampyre no less. Who had you become? And why were you fine with it?

The Cardinal pulled and pushed at your body, manoeuvring you to sit upon his desk with your legs spread and waiting for him. All the while, his mouth never left yours until he had got you where he wanted you. Those lips of his then began their journey down your body, stopping at your neck where he paid particularly close attention to the pulse point, then travelled down over your breasts, to lick and suck at your nipple. He then copied the movement to the second one, just to hear you cry out for him again. Then to your stomach, and finally landing on your mound, pulling the chair up and taking a seat.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You asked, breathlessly.

“You liked my fingers last time - you’ll like my mouth today.” He responded, simply.

“No but… you can’t.”

He looked up at you. “Oh, sweet, innocent angel. I promise you I can. And I will.”

“But-”

“Relax.”

He let out a growl upon seeing you; your glistening, tight heat exposed to him, ready and waiting for his tongue to ravish you like the heathen he was. He teased you by planting a kiss… or several… on your thighs, making you want in a way you never imagined possible.

His finger moved up and down your folds, once or twice catching on your clit, making you a shiver and a gasp from excitement and sensitivity. His eyes fluttered shut with delight as those fingers that had collected your slick slipped into his mouth. The exact same flavour from all those nights ago when he licked his gloves clean of you. The very same taste that tormented him upon smelling you fucking yourself on his furniture.

He kissed you exactly where you wanted him. His tongue came out, laving over your clit exactly as his fingers had, swirling and dancing over your flesh and making you cry out for him. Your back arched off the desk entirely as your body moved instinctively, hands flying to his hair and digits locking around his mouse-brown strands. The Cardinal rushed in, his tongue swirling roughly around your sensitive clit and intermittently sucking at it to elicit those heavenly noises from your lips. Hips rocking back and forth as they had done every night and day this passed week or so, chasing your pleasure and riding his tongue, like you were used to doing with everything else.

The first time he locked his lips around your clit and sucked, you screamed. Not just an outcry or a moan, a genuine scream of surprise that made the Cardinal chuckle between your legs. Your fingers tightened in his hair as you jumped, only to feel his hands push you back into the original position you were in.

His lips moved, consistently hitting the right spots and making you clench around nothing while his moustache scratched against your labia. All the while, gasps and groans were falling from your mouth, but he wanted more. He pulled away and replaced his lips with his fingers, buttery soft gloves touching you once more.

“You have to tell me,” he began, licking his lips clean of you, “you have to tell me how it feels.”

“Mmm!”

“No, angel, use those words you learned so prettily. Does it feel good?”

“Y-yes!”

“Do I make you feel good?”

“Yessssss - oh!”

“Did you like my mouth?”

“S-so mu-uh! Much!”

He laughed. You really had no idea what he wanted you to do. His laugh wasn’t malicious - he certainly wasn’t making fun of your naivete. You were just so sweet - so innocent, even after everything you’d done this week.

“Which did you like more, angel? My fingers or my mouth?”

“Oh! Mouth! I l-like your mouth!”

“You want me to use it again?”

“Yes!”

“Beg me to. Tell me how much you want my mouth.”

His movements on your clit got faster and added more pressure, scrambling your brain. You were trying to find sentences to formulate, but nothing was coming out. “I…” you began, feeling overwhelmed. “I-” You tried to think of something, anything, but your mind was too focussed on the pleasure it wouldn’t work. You took a breath, and whined, “Please.”

Copia would have just laughed. If you weren’t you, he would have degraded you, told you to try harder, that you obviously didn’t want it hard enough. But your please was so desperate, so innocent like you might cry, for once it was the only thing he needed. He’d teach you how to use your words properly before the next time - for now, he’d oblige, because there wasn’t a way that he couldn’t.

He dove straight back into your core face-first, vigorously sucking and licking at your wetness and putting his index finger inside of you, making you cry out once more. He curled that finger upwards, and kept repeating that motion over and over again until your body felt like jelly.

Now, you were moaning, but in between your whines, whimpers and screams, was the occasional peppered “Good”, “So good” and “Yes!” until eventually a combination of his lips and his fingers had you tipping over the edge, and cumming around him, leaking out more and more until you were entirely spent, hole clenching around him as you peaked.

With one final kiss to your clit, he pulled back, looking up at your reddened and exhausted face with pride. He stood up and nestled himself in between your open legs, running his lips and tongue over your bare skin, up your neck before capturing you in a kiss. You could taste yourself on his mouth, and feel his hardness pressed up against your centre.

You broke away. “Are you…” You began. “I mean, do you - will you…?”

The Cardinal laughed at you, your awkwardness over the subject, your innocence even now not allowing you to finish any of your sentences. “Fuck you?” He asked harshly, just to see your reaction.

You nodded.

“Do you want me to?” He asked.

“Yes, but -”

“Then, no. I won’t.”

“What?”

“If you have to say but then you don’t want to. But what I just did for you,” he brought his index finger and thumb to your lips and pinched the bottom one in between them, “would you like to do for me?”

“I can do that?”

He smiled, eyes trained on your lips. “Of course. If I taught you, would you? Would you use your mouth for me?”

You hesitated for a moment, not because you weren’t intrigued or because you didn’t want to. Mostly it was because you didn’t know how, or what such an act even looked like. But still, you nodded and said, “Yes.”

He turned the chair to face adjacent to the desk and took several steps back, bringing his gloved hands to his cassock and removing the garment completely. He ordered, draping his robes over the back of the loveseat. His gloves were the next to go, being draped on top of his cassock. He was left in his undergarments: sweatpants and a t-shirt. The sweatpants left nothing to the imagination, showing the outline of his hardened length beneath the lightweight fabric. He settled onto the desk chair and looked into your eyes. “On your knees, angel.”

You did as he asked, remembering this position from what felt like months ago now. How he was drunk in his room, holding your halo in his hand and putting his thumb in your mouth, relishing in the feel of it. You saw the same look in his eyes, only this time it had heat pooling again in your… what did he call it? Cunt? There.

He reached down and picked up your hand. “If it’s too much at any point,” he began, moving that hand to his thigh, “tap on me two times. Show me you can do it.”

You did, tapping on his clothed thigh as he requested despite you not understanding why it was requested of you. He didn’t need to do that.

“Good girl.” He dipped into the waistband of his sweatpants and fished his cock out, and looked at your eyes widen. The Cardinal was big. You knew he was because you’d felt him on you before, but it was a whole different experience seeing him. He didn’t let you the first night you spent together. Not only was the Cardinal long, he was quite girthy, and you wondered how that would feel going in your mouth. You couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“Now,” he continued, “open that mouth for me.”

You did as you were asked, and watched him sit forward. The thumb that he had in your mouth before came back up to your lips and ran over them softly, before he placed it inside.

“Close your mouth around it.”

You did.

“I want you to suck my thumb. Get it nice and wet.”

When you started to suck, you heard him groan. It was quiet and deep, similar to the noise he made when he first got pleasure from you down in the wine cellar. He muttered a, “Cazzo,” which you understood to be “fuck”, and watched him become enraptured by your lips enclosed around his digit.

“I want you to do this when my cock is in your mouth, angel. You think you’re ready?”

You nodded and felt him pull his finger from your mouth.

He widened his legs, inviting you to sit closer, and lifted himself with his hand at the base to make it easier for you. “Tease me a little,” he told you. “Run your tongue up and down me.”

He was doing his best to not overwhelm you, keep you as comfortable as possible. Sucking dick wasn’t a big deal, he knew that, but to someone who’d never done it before it could be a little intimidating. He’d know. He remembered the first time he’d done it and how the person had guided him through it, showing him what they wanted from him and making sure they both took their time. He was so eager to please back then, he did too much too quickly and while his partner had a good time, Copia felt like he fucked it up entirely. The same went for the first pussy he ate, too.

Your mouth opened enough to let your tongue slide out, and he hissed when you made contact. You licked a broad stripe from the base up to the tip, and felt a flutter in your stomach when you heard the groan he made. So, you did it again. This time adding more pressure and earning yourself another hiss.

“A little more spit, angel,” he told you.

You gathered your saliva on your tongue and repeated the action before.

“Oh, that’s it. Take the tip in, now.”

You did one final lick before fluidly taking his tip into your mouth, sucking on the very tip of his cock gently. You didn’t know where to look at first, and so you just looked ahead at his soft tummy, but when you looked up at his face, you realised you were missing out on his expressions: the dark eyes trained on you, the way his top row of teeth bit down on his lower lip, the redness creeping up his cheeks. In that moment, you understood that seeing him enjoying it was the reason why people did this for others. Watching their reactions to your actions was the pleasure that you’d get from an act like this. And you’d do this more often if this was the response.

“Looking up at me so innocently,” he commented when you made eye contact. You’d known for a while it was your corruption that turned him on the most; sullying an angel to get revenge on a Lord he hated, to drive her closer to Hell opposed to the Heaven she came from. Perhaps you’d be lying if you said you didn’t share that feeling. Disobeying the Almighty had given you a newfound thrill - feelings you never had before.

You moved down him a little, taking the initiative first and putting the whole head in your mouth and sucked just a little harder. The Cardinal hissed and his hand flew to your hair instinctively, just how yours did to his hair when he did this to you. This wasn’t a purposeful move, this was just his body reacting to the pleasure, trying to keep you there. Once he knew what he was doing he pulled his hand away.

“S-sorry,” he grumbled.

You pulled off him with a pop. “Does it feel good?” you asked.

“So good, angel!”

You nodded and went right back to it.

“Mm, angel. Move your - fuck - head back and fo-orth, up and d-down.” When you did as he asked, he tipped his head back over the chair. “Oh merda, just like that!”

Every time you moved your head forward, you took a little bit more of him into your mouth, gaining more confidence with each of these reactions. More expletives in Italian fell from his mouth, words you didn’t care to try and translate. He tried his hardest not to buck his hips, not to fuck up into your mouth and overwhelm you too quickly, but it was feeling too good and sometimes he couldn’t help himself, shifting his hips upwards and sliding just a little more into your mouth.

“I won’t be this g-gentle with you in the future, angel- ah!” he told you. “One day, I’m gonna bury - mmm - m-myself in that tight, little throat of yours and make you cry. Cazzo! Been thinking about… about it for so long.” He let out a shaky breath. “Take a little bit more in, if you can.”

You did.

“Oh - Sathanas! Harder. S-suck harder. Gonna cu-um down that throat.”

With every instruction you followed, you watched him melt into the upholstery. His hand moved back to your hair and helped move your head at the pace he wanted, while trying his hardest not to put too much pressure on you and choke you. He wanted you to discover that on your own… or at least, later on with his help at your request.

The Cardinal was practically putty in your hands, breathlessly wrapped around your little finger as you continued to work this magic over him. He could control you with your halo, maybe you could control him with this.

He would have you take breaks, especially when you started taking more of him into your mouth, giving your throat a rest and teaching you how to touch him with your hand - another thing he really liked. He wanted a firm grip, a little rough, fast. And it was that, your hands working the base of his cock and your mouth sucking on the head that sent him over the edge.

He’d tried to warn you, tried to push you off him so he wouldn’t cum directly into your mouth for the first time, but neither of you tried hard enough, or moved quick enough to stop it from happening. And so, his cum landed on your tongue, the faint taste of iron taking you off guard for a moment. He kept his hands on your head, holding you in place while he finished in your mouth, only letting go when he was done with you.

When you popped off him, you held your hand beneath your face to catch any of him that would spill. You didn’t know what to do with it, not until the Cardinal knelt down in front of you and captured you in a kiss, using his tongue to remove as much of his cum from your mouth as he could. Some of it spilled down your chins and onto your bodies, his t-shirt becoming damp at his own cum. He swallowed the rest, as did you after seeing him do it, and let him help you up off your sore knees.

The Cardinal led you to the bathroom where you both cleaned your mouths, before you both dressed, the Cardinal in a new shirt and you back into your same robes.

“Rest up,” the Cardinal told you, putting his robes back on, “take a bath if you need to. I have to get back to work. But I fully intend on seeing you tonight.”

You simply nodded in response, and watched him leave again.

When you lay on his bed, for the first time in a long time, your instinct was to close your eyes and fall into a light sleep.

Prev./Next

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her-satanic-wiles · 5 months ago

Text

Dawn Chorus - IX

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 6k.

Reading Time: 24 min.

Warnings: biting, cunnilingus, dry humping, face sitting, mentions of fellatio, mentions of rape, mild degradation, nipple play, praise kink, protected sex, spit as lube, vaginal sex

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this fic is quite dark, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my decision. Thank you.

If you thought that spending time with the Cardinal and having his mouth between your legs would help you in any way, it turned out that you were wrong. You learned that you had no self-control when it came to sex, obsessed with it to the point where it was damn near all-consuming, that you found yourself instigating things between yourself and the Cardinal. More often than not, you’d wake up in the evening next to him and would climb on top of his face (as per his invitation), and start your night with a powerful orgasm, and your hands clutching in his messy hair.

The Cardinal would get off with your body, too. Sometimes you’d help him with your mouth, a skill you were getting better and better at each time, other times your hands, thighs, breasts, the outside of your core - any part of your body he could wrap his cock in, he would. You did everything… except the thing you’d begged him for a while ago. But it didn’t matter to you - not while he was happily servicing you in the way you needed him.

You had also been allowed total access to the rest of the Ministry at this point, with a ghoul guard. Your ghoul, you learned, was Aurora. She was happy and bright, very bubbly. She became like a friend to you, showing you around the Ministry, taking you to places you’d not seen before, even bringing you down to the wine cellar to meet the ghouls who lived down there - something you had no idea was a thing, especially after your first incident with the Cardinal. Under Aurora’s guidance, you tried human food for the first time, and enjoyed everything the chefs offered you during their night shift. It was quiet that night, which meant you could hold conversations with them, too.

Aurora took you to the library, where you were able to return your books and get new ones, and she eventually recommended some books to you after conversations you’d had together. It turned out, some of the books she’d recommended to you were, as she said, “smutty”. But despite your initial shock, you could feel yourself growing wetter and wetter as your eyes scanned the page, and your brain ingested the printed filth.

Aurora emphasised that you shouldn’t take those books too seriously, that they weren’t reflective of real pleasure. But it did teach you a lot about what human desire meant, and what they wanted during sex. Why the Cardinal asked you to talk to him as he used his tongue on you. You read about how good the act itself could be, how magical it felt, and wanted to feel it for yourself. But, both of you were hesitant to take the leap and just go for it, to show you the thing you’d been missing out on for millennia. His doubts also kept you both moving slowly, neither of you completely sure that it was the right move to make despite how desperate you both were for it, holding off and holding off until there was an unquestionable feeling in both of your guts that was completely undeniable, and felt like the best time.

Life at the Ministry became easy. And you almost couldn’t quite believe that you were about to say this but, life became safe. You had a freedom that you never felt before. You were finally experiencing what life was like governing your own body and mind. You read what you wanted, when you wanted. Sure, you were a house pet, but you had more autonomy now than you ever did in Heaven. Each night seemed to blur into the next, and yet, there was a strange comfort in the predictability of it all.

There was still a persistent feeling of unease deep down, even with your newfound sense of freedom and safety. It was there, waiting in the shadows of your conscious mind to remind you of the journey you’d been on, and the desires you still carried inside. You tried to clean the guilt, but it remained like a stubborn stain that would not go away.

It was impossible to escape the sensation that every immoral indulgence, every improper meeting with the Cardinal, was a betrayal of your divine essence. It was a never-ending tug-of-war that left you feeling torn and confused between your natural sense of righteousness and your carnal desires.

And the Sister remained in the background, looming over you both with an angry eye, waiting like a cobra for the opportune moment to strike. The Cardinal - Copia, came home every morning a little more stressed than before, yet he wouldn’t tell you why. But it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together and realise that the Sister was mounting the pressure, and making threats again. The last time you heard them argue, you saw the look on his face as he stormed back into the room, and every day since, he wore that same expression.

With growing concern, you noted Copia’s subtle changes in demeanour. You had been living a peaceful life in the Ministry, but Sister Imperator’s ominous presence loomed large in the air. A tangible sense of unease that descended upon the corridors of power like a mist with every day seemed to add another layer of tension.

You tried to keep up a front of normalcy, but there was always a sense of impending disaster lurking in the background of your mind. The tense dynamic between Copia and Sister Imperator served as a continual reminder of the precarious power dynamics inside the Ministry—a precarious dance rife with covert plans and unspoken intentions.

“Do you wish to communicate?” You’d asked one morning when he came home. You were already tucked up in bed, in the thinnest of white, nightgowns and waiting for him.

He’d sat on his side of the bed, removed his socks and began getting himself ready to join you. “It won’t do any good,” he told you.

Still you persisted. “I read in one of the books in the library that communication is good for mental health.”

“And sometimes talking about it can make it worse.” His tone was much sharper than usual.

“The book didn’t say-”

“Angel!” Now he’d snapped, anger bubbling under his skin. He didn’t mean to raise his voice to you, but he was just so frustrated, he couldn’t help it. He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees, and rubbing his face with his hands. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “I pushed.”

He sat quiet for a moment, looking at his hands. His left thumb came to rub over his right palm, rubbing over the skin as if he was soothing an ache. “She’s going on and on about the third ritual. It’s going to happen this full moon, regardless of my tricks.” His voice became small. “Regardless of whether you’re conscious or not.”

You thought for a moment. “Remind me, what is the third ritual?”

“The Ritual of Desecration.”

“You would defile me?”

Copia nodded. “Me or a ghoul.”

You laughed a little. “Have you not done that already?”

That comment earned you a small chuckle in response; a titter, if you will. “Sadly, no. I’d have to fuck you properly during the ritual.”

“What would happen if I was already defiled?”

Copia tensed. “You’re still a virgin, though. It doesn’t matter.”

“But, what if?”

“We could perform the ritual without your virginity, but it wouldn’t be as powerful. We could defile your halo, I suppose… but that would be lethal. She wouldn’t risk it.”

“So my virginity is the problem?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but-”

“Yes?”

He nodded.

“Well then,” you pushed the comforter back and got yourself comfortable, spreading your legs and letting your nightgown fall up your thighs, “let’s make it difficult for her.”

Copia looked at your exposed cunt, gulped, then looked back at you, eyes wide and pupils blown. It didn’t take much to get him going, but even with the thought of defiling you, he still couldn’t let himself dive straight in. “You’re not ready… the pressure…”

“Would you rather take me on the floor of the Basilica?” you asked. “With everyone watching? Where anyone else could have me, instead?”

“No.”

You reached forward and took his hand, kissed it, then began trailing it up your thigh to your centre. “I want it, Copia. I want to feel you.”

“Say it again.”

“Say what?”

“My name.”

You inhaled, your body tingling under his gaze. “I want you, Copia.”

He simply nodded in response. His movements, from then on, were frantic yet slow, as if he was still giving you time to change your mind. His lips attached to yours quickly, his body pinning yours to the mattress despite him hovering above you at a comfortable distance. You wondered how he’d be when he didn’t hold himself back, if he’d still show the same amount of restraint as he showed you then.

He’d fed before he kissed you - you could taste the iron on his tongue. It didn’t taste like your blood… and that shouldn’t have made you flutter in the way that it did.

He lowered his hips to yours, his jeans creating a rough surface to cover your centre. It didn’t feel amazing at first, but it was the thought that he was too desperate to stop that kept your wetness flowing, and your own hips moving against his, chasing a pleasure that built the more you moved. All the while, small grunts left his mouth, only to be swallowed by yours.

When his lips left yours, he let them wander around your body, kissing his way down and down. He lingered at your neck, exactly where your pulse point was and where he’d sank his teeth into you the very first time. You could feel the tips of his fangs as he bore them, debating whether to dive into your neck and indulge himself, but the kiss he left there instead was enough to remind you that he wasn’t the same person he was when you met him.

He laved over your clothed nipples, licking over the fabric of your nightgown just to tease you, to spite you, to play with you. It earned him a moan, and a small ��yes” falling from your lips.

He travelled the expanse of your body until he reached your exposed clit, his journey coming to an end at the first suckle of the bundle of nerves that, before he’d touched it, was screaming for stimulation. Stimulation he was more than happy to give you.

He kissed you exactly where you desired him. He stuck out his tongue, lapping over your clit the way you loved him to, making you scream for him as it swirled and danced over your flesh. Your body moved instinctively, hands flying to his hair, digits locking into his hair and your back arching off the bed entirely. Copia charged in, his tongue twirling wildly around your tender spot and sucking every now and then to get those angelic sounds out of your mouth. Hips against his tongue, chasing your pleasure while riding his face, as you had grown used to doing.

“O-oh!” you exclaimed, hand tightening on his head. “Fuck.”

Copia chuckled and pulled back, replacing his tongue with his thumb temporarily. “And where did you learn that word, Angel?” he asked, grinning. You looked down at him.

“A b-book,” you stuttered, trying to breathe.

“No textbook you normally read would use a word like that. What’s Aurora been teaching you?”

You gasped when he increased the pressure on your clit, his thumb moving in circles. “Sh-she showed me fiction.”

He tutted, feigning disappointment. The sound went straight to your cunt, increasing the pleasure. “Smutty fiction, hm? Corrupting my innocent angel with filth.”

“Y-you corr-uh! Corrupted me fi-irst.”

From his place between your legs, you saw a smile form against your skin that was pure, unbridled happiness like you’d never seen Copia wear. His eyes gleamed with pride, sparkling with the joy of knowing that he had corrupted an angel, until she had become insatiably hungry for pleasures she’d never even dreamed of until this moment. He bore his teeth, and playfully nipped at your thigh, causing no pain, but coupled with the feeling of his thumb on your clit, sent a shock wave of gratification through you.

“P-pride is a sin, you know,” you teased, despite your words being interrupted by your own whimpers.

Copia chuckled, giving another nip to your skin. “You’re in no position to talk to me about sinning when you so willingly spread your legs for me - when you’re offering yourself to me on a silver platter.”

“F-feels good,” you all but whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’m gonna make you feel even better though, Angel. You ready?”

“Yes.”

Your brain was preparing you for the stretch of his cock, and so you lay back onto the pillows and tensed for the intrusion, but there wasn’t anything like that at all. There was a slight pressure to your hole, and you felt something small push inside with no resistance or pain whatsoever, and so you looked back down at Copia. His eyes were trained on your centre, and the hand that was occupied with your clit had now bunched up into a fist, save the middle finger which was now inside you, gently thrusting in and out.

“How does that feel?”

“Fine,” you replied, significantly less overwhelmed than before. The truth was, you could feel him inside you, but it didn’t feel good or bad. He was just there, and you told him as much.

“No pain?”

“None.”

“Good. How does this feel?”

Before you had chance to ask him what had changed, the middle finger moved inside you, curling upwards and tapping the front wall of your cunt. That felt incredible. In surprise, you bolted upright, eyes widened and mouth hanging open, a breathy, high-pitched whimper tumbling out before you had chance to stop it.

In all the times you’d touched yourself, and had him touch you, you’d never thought of this. Of course, you’d known about the actual act itself, but despite reading all those books, his fingers - or even your own - had never crossed your mind as something you could do or have done to you. And if you weren’t alive with electricity to the point where you felt like you could explode at any moment, you’d ask him why he hadn’t done it before.

“I’ll take that as, ‘It feels good, Copia’,” he teased, with a smug grin on his face.

“Again,” you requested, frantically.

He tutted. “Angel, where are your manners?”

“Please.”

He obliged, tapping up exactly how he had done before and making you cry out a second time, falling backwards again and relaxing into the plushness of his pillows. His movements were slow and delicate, as if he didn’t want to break you.

“This,” he began, laving kisses over your thighs, “is called your g-spot, and it’s the second spot after your clit designed for only pleasure.”

He pulled out of you and you whined at the loss. When you looked down at him again, you watched him put his ring finger and that middle finger in his mouth and spit all over them before he placed them back into you, slow and gentle movements to keep you comfortable. He tapped up again, earning another sob to fall from your lips as he toyed with you.

The speed of his taps quickened which ended up giving you more pleasure than you thought was possible. Your body recovered quickly from each of his slow hits, but it didn’t have time to calm down in between the new pace that had been set, causing tingles to spread all over your body and your mind to go completely blank. You couldn’t even form sentences to tell him how you felt, mind dumb from the sensation. Thus, the only sounds you made were cries out for him to not stop, to continue to work your body into such a frenzy that you could cum on his fingers like that.

The more his fingers moved, the more you could hear it: the extreme wetness that your cunt was producing around his fingers, splashing around those digits and making the most sinful squelching noises that had Copia bite his lip. “Sathanas, you sound so fucking good, Angel,” he told you, watching your wetness gather on his fingers. “So wet and pliant for me. I know that it feels good, not by your sounds, but by how soaked you’re making my fingers. Fuck. I can’t wait to get inside you - to feel this tight, wet cunt around my cock. I need a taste, I can’t-”

He interrupted himself to put his lips back on your clit, sucking those nerves exactly how he had before. He played your body like a fiddle, the perfect timing of each of the suckles on your clit alongside the taps to your g-spot making your hips rut against him again, your desperation more prevalent than ever before. You chanced a look down at him and clenched around his fingers at what you saw. His eyes were closed completely, putting his entire concentration on your body and your pleasure while the bottom half of his face worked you to completion. His hair was messed by your fingers tugging at the strands, moving the meticulously combed sections into an out of place mop on his head. And his hips, though still clad in his jeans, were moving on their on free will, and grinding into the mattress below him, humping against the sheets because he was seemingly just as desperate as you were. His left hand was on your thigh, the pads digging into the meat to keep himself firmly attached to you at all times. And it was all proving to be too much.

Your own hands moved up to play with your nipples through the fabric of your nightgown, and that would prove to be your undoing. Your orgasm hit you so quickly, you barely had any time to call out and let him know. All he got was a, “cumming!” before you finally tipped over the edge. There were white spots in your vision as you came, the breath stolen from your lungs and your toes curling against the sheets. Your back arched off the bed, your body so overcome with the sensation, you thought you were going to pass out. Nothing had ever felt so good - so powerful. The combination of his ministrations had you truly seeing stars, experiencing the kind of orgasm you’d only read about and it was all because of him. This vampyre attached to your body to make you feel incredible.

He only released you when you pushed him away, breathlessly pleading with him to give you a break. Copia pulled his fingers out of you slowly, smirking at the hiss you released due to your sensitivity. With one final kiss to your flesh, he stood from the bed and began to undress completely, his painfully hard cock springing free from his jeans, and hairy stomach jiggling as he moved, tossing his clothes to the side and walking to the side of the bed.

His large hands came to the sleeves of your nightgown, pulling them down off your arms and rolling the fabric down your torso until it got stuck at your hips. “Lift yourself up for me, Angel,” he asked. You did as he’d asked, and helped him roll the nightgown off your body and watched him throw it to where the rest of his clothes lay.

Your breasts were still heaving with your breathlessness, body numb and trembling from the force of the orgasm that you were trying to recover from. Your wings were almost completely outstretched, the left one cascading over the bed like a waterfall making Copia dance around it to get into his bedside drawer.

He pulled out a small, square packet you knew to be a condom. You only knew condoms existed because of the turmoil they’d caused within Catholic spaces, and how they were condemned by the Pope and other prominent figures as ‘playing God’. You watched Copia roll the latex over his considerable length, and climbed back onto the bed, bending at your cunt to give you one final, teasing lick and causing you to cry out in oversensitivity.

“Do not!” you begged, laughter rising up in your body as he kissed his way back up to your lips.

This kiss was passionate, and you could taste yourself on his tongue, however faintly it might have been. You could feel his length heavy against your core, but this time he didn’t rub.

“I’m gonna put it in now, okay?” he asked, his mouth closer to your ear. “If it hurts, tell me.”

“Okay,” you replied.

He hovered above you, eyes bearing directly into yours. He always loved the initial stretch, the look on the person’s face as he entered them for the first time. The furrowing of the brow, the silent cry they let out, or even that exhale of air from their lungs, so shaky and unstable. It always let him know that he made others feel good.

He lined himself up at your entrance. “Are you ready?”

You nodded.

“I need words, Angel.”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

“I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

He pushed himself inside you, your wetness opening up for him with ease. Despite this, he still intended to take his time with you; move slowly to keep you as comfortable as possible. Though, the face you made as he stretched out your walls made him want to slam all the way inside you and take whatever he wanted. The way your eyebrows furrowed upwards, the way your mouth hung open in pleasure, and the way your eyes swam with lust had him feeling like a rabid dog, all panting and drooling, completely out of control of his own body.

And you gasped. It was pure music to his ears. On the exhale, you moaned loudly, and to him, it was nothing short of pornographic.

His mouth dropped down to your nipple and began to lick and suck on it again, lavishing you in as much pleasure as he thought you might have needed, but the nails digging into his back proved to be your body crying out at just how good it actually felt.

He wasn’t all the way in but your body felt like it was on fire. Every nerve ending screamed while your voice remained silent, bumps appearing on your skin and butterflies dancing in your stomach. You had welcomed him in much better than you thought you would - than you’d been told, and his gentility with you only served to enhance the sensation, drag out the feeling of him fully carving a space out for himself until he was fully sheathed inside you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his own breath taken away from him and his body trembling on top of yours.

You tucked your lips between your teeth and nodded.

“Does it hurt?”

“N-no.”

“Feels good?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me when I can move.”

There was a small part of you that didn’t want to, wondering just how he’d fare buried deep inside you, waiting for your command only to realise it would never come. You’d have to burrow that little idea away for some other time, for now, you had to do everything he asked of you. You licked your lips then bit the lower one, moving your hands to the forearms that were either side of you and holding himself up, before uttering, “Please move.”

The first pull out then push back in was overwhelming to say the least. Your grip tightened on his skin, and you cried out as he hit a spot deep inside you. His movements were gentle, slow… restrained.

He did it again, earning an “oh” to fall from your lips.

Though he was still careful with you, like you were china about to smash, his pace picked up, yet all the while, his eyes were locked onto yours, searching you for a sign of discomfort that wouldn’t come, no matter how often he buried himself in you. “Can I go faster?”

“Yes.”

Grunts and moans, mixed with heavy pants fell from his own mouth as he borrowed pleasure from your body. “Oh, fuck!” His voice was deep, gravelly and dark, and you could hardly believe that it belonged to him. Yet, even so, it caused you to tighten around his length and steal another moan from his mouth.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, putting all of his weight on your body as he continued to rock into you, pace gathering speed until you were moaning fervidly beneath him, wordlessly begging him for more. You could feel his tongue lave over your skin, pressing open mouthed kisses as though he was trying to distract himself. He moved his head up, letting his teeth graze your earlobe.

All the while, your hands were back on his back, nails digging into the skin.

“So wet,” he commented, voice muffled by your neck. “So fucking tight.” He sat up a little, still putting the majority of his weight onto you but resting on his elbows.

“C-Copia!” You breathlessly called for him, hands clawing into his skin and trying to keep him as close to you as possible.

“I know, Angel. I know.”

He took your nipple into his mouth again and sucked on it. He lifted his hips a little, just enough for a hand to snake in between you both. “Touch yourself, Angel,” he requested, popping off your nipple momentarily.

Your middle finger ran circles over your clit, just as you were used to doing. Applying some pressure, you began to feel that familiar knot inside you tighten, and tighten, until eventually you snapped.

Your cunt fluttered around his cock, tightening with the sensation of your orgasm washing over you. Copia kept thrusting in and out of you, keeping his tempo as you continued to touch yourself, heightening the sensation and making it just that more spectacular. Your whole body strained at the feeling, and a great wave of sensitivity fell over you the more it travelled through your whole body. Your toes curled, your fingertips dug into his body, your screams were deep and guttural. Your eyes closed tightly lest they glaze over from the force. “Oh my God!” you screeched once your breath had returned.

“Sathanas - I’m cumming!” Copia told you.

Mere moments later, he stilled a growl forming on his lips and causing your hole to tighten even more in the process. The cum that would usually sit somewhere on your body, or slide down your throat, now filled the condom he wore, more spilling into it with each thrust until he, like you, was completely spent. A part of you wondered what it would be like to feel him inside of you like that - if it would feel any different at all.

He collapsed on top of you, using your body as a pillow to allow him to recover from his own strong finish. He was sweaty, and sticky, and somehow it didn’t make you feel disgusted. If you had any energy left, it would actually do the opposite to you.

Copia said something, but was muffled by his face in between your breasts, you couldn’t understand him.

“I beg your pardon?” you asked, hoping for him to clarify.

He lifted his head. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“I am okay. No pain on my end. H-how are you?”

He flopped back down onto your body. “Dead.”

You laughed. “If I would have known that this is what would kill you, perhaps we should have done this at the start.”

“It wouldn’t have felt as good. It only did because I l-” he stopped himself, and thought for a moment. “I see you differently.”

You both lay there in silence for a while, waiting for your bodies to regain your breaths. Your hand came up to his hair and ran through it, despite the sweatiness.

The room was calm and quiet, save for your breathing. This was the most peace you’d felt since you fell from grace - and you knew that if it had been like this from the beginning, you’d never have wanted to leave. You would have been entirely smitten with the Cardinal, favouring him to your Lord. You could have even truly understood Lucifer’s stance on his whole situation.

But you didn’t get the welcome wagon. You saw the very worst humanity had to offer at the hands of the vampyres and you were sure it would happen again and again. It didn’t matter if you stayed at the Ministry and all would be well, there would be future generations of Satanic worshippers who may repeat the process. And that thought scared you - the prospect of repeating everything you’d been through over and over again made you shiver. But, could you leave Copia now? Could you go after all of this? You couldn’t be sure.

Not to mention the fact that you had been defiled now, despite you actively begging for it. In the afterglow, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret these feelings, no matter how much Heaven had previously commanded you to. And there was a small part of you that was saddened by the fact that you’d never be able to return to the celestial realm - doomed to wander the mortal one for the rest of eternity. But if this was how you’d be able to live for the rest of time? You’d find contentment in it, possibly even prefer it to life in Heaven.

Little did you know, Copia was grappling with his own issues.

You were still technically a prisoner - his pet, no matter how much he could pretend otherwise. His own mother was forcing him to force information out of you regardless of whether you were in pain. He had subjected you to unimaginable horrors and the guilt was eating him up inside now that he’d come to his senses and realised just how much he cared for you, how he almost said three words that would have changed everything. But if he was being honest with himself, as he lay on your body and cocooned himself in your arms: he loved you.

He was in love with you.

It was everything, from your innocence, your feistiness, how you fought him every step of the way. You were beautiful, and rare, and obedient. You were honest to fault, kept him in line, listened to him when he spoke. And you gave yourself so willingly to him, even after everything he’d done. The revelation had hit him like a tonne of bricks, but you weren’t ready to hear it yet.

“What do we do now?” you asked him, still stroking his hair.

“We wait,” he told you. “Bide our time until Imperator wants to complete the ritual.”

“Will we still have to go through with it?”

Copia nodded. “She doesn’t know about this.” He sat on his knees in between your legs. “We need to make her think the ritual worked, so we still need to do it. But the ritual will fail because we’ve already taken the key ingredient.”

“Can we be sure?”

“Yes. But, there is something we need to talk about.”

You sat up. “Okay.”

“We need to make her think the ritual is a success in order to get her off our backs for the time being and think about what we should do next. Which means when I take you on the Basilica floor, you have to pretend you hate it. You have to fight me. I’m going to be horrible to you - absolutely vile - and you have to pretend like none of this happened, okay?”

Your stomach dropped. “Why?”

“You can still be killed, Angel. She’s already planning on it because she knows you won’t give up any information, and if you can’t turn into a demon then you’re as good as dead. At least if she thinks she’s winning, then we have a chance, too. And if you were suddenly willing to take part in these rituals-”

“She would know that something was amiss and kill me anyway,” you interrupted. “What will you do to me… during the ritual?”

Copia sighed. “I can’t tell you. We need to keep some element of surprise to make it all seem believable. I will stop if you get extremely uncomfortable. If you say… peaches… I’ll stop. But I need you to not say it. Please.”

You nodded in understanding, but couldn’t swallow the fear that had appeared. There was a lot riding on this, and it needed to go perfectly.

When the full moon came, you couldn’t help but feel nervous. Not frightened, because you knew that you’d be safe, but nervous because you didn’t know if you could make it all believable.

Copia came into the room with those hellfire chains you’d not needed to wear in so long. He wrapped them around your wings and your wrists, and told you to begin fighting him immediately. And so, you did. As soon as he had you bound in chains, you began to struggle against them, screaming at Copia to let you go. Of course, he didn’t oblige. He refused to. Instead, he dragged you out of his apartments and down the hallways to the Basilica, the imposing space looking even more intimidating the closer you got to it. All the while you pulled against him, flinched when he threatened you and fought against him every step of the way. You hurled insults at him, spat in his direction, clung onto protruding bits of the walls and furniture to try and make his life just that much harder.

He wouldn’t let anyone else touch you. When his ghouls tried to intervene, he pushed them away, telling them to walk behind you both so that they could catch you if you managed to escape - which you both knew would never happen, but you both had to act the part.

The siblings that you passed were all staring at the spectacle in front of them, and you didn’t know how to feel when you saw the expressions on their faces. The majority of people were appalled at how the Cardinal was treating you, evidently thinking how inhumane he was being by not only chaining you, but pulling you to a place against your will. You recognised some of these siblings, some you’d seen in the kitchens and dining halls, others in the library. Some you’d had conversations with, and had been nothing but kind. You debated whether or not you should call for their help, beg the onlookers to do something to save you. But if they overwhelmed Copia, it would spell trouble for both of you. No, for now you were better off just struggling.

As was last time, the second you walked into the Basilica, your skin started to prickle. The soles of your feet burned as if you were walking on lukewarm coal, and your hairs stood on end. Your instincts screamed at you, reminding you that you didn’t belong on this unhallowed ground. There was still some holiness inside of you, but the intensity had dulled significantly since the last time you were in there, causing you to realise just how corrupted you truly had become.

Standing in the sanctuary, in front of the statue of Lilith and Baphomet, Sister Imperator stood with a smug expression on her face. That thick book was back in her hands, and she was surrounded by ghouls - some hers, some Copia’s, some you’d never seen before. On the floor was that familiar Satanic Pentagram that you’d already been inside twice, with candles at each point.

“Now, are we ready?” you heard the Sister ask from behind you.

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