#at this point. copia is alive

[copia]

no way i missed the credits for a train i didnt even catch. need to go again immediately and maybe keep avoiding spoilers just for the end

[gravehags]

destroying all (and make them want it again)

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: copia holding reader hostage for marathon fucking, copia being our favorite little sex freak, office sex, blowjobs, terzo being terzo, reader becoming more satanic every day :)

Words: 2,848

Summary: You'd think after almost three days of being held hostage by your perverted lover, you'd have tired of his touch. You'd think.

a/n: i for one would really benefit from being locked up in bed with copia for days like i really think i deserve that

~~~

By the time Copia allows you to stumble out of his quarters two days after your fateful visit you are delightfully, deliciously sore.

You had no idea he’d be so…voracious. Your mild-mannered awkward Cardinal had you bent over and spread on every surface in his apartment, multiple times, drawing words out of you that you never dreamed of saying. He wasn’t a cruel kidnapper either - sporadically he would leave the apartment and return to you bearing sustenance from the dining hall. Your favorite was lounging nude on his mussed sheets while he dutifully and adoringly fed you plump purple grapes, kissing you in between bites. The thought stirs your heart as you open your apartment door and stumble inside to your bedroom to collapse face down on the duvet. You groan as you hike one leg up, the beautiful ache of being thoroughly used emanating from your core and into your muscles. You’re about to throw yourself in the shower when your phone vibrates.

Miss you already bellezza mia xx

You sigh.

Miss you more <3

I could…come over?

You laugh out loud, shaking your head.

You dog! You’re relentless. I haven’t showered in days, I feel filthy.

I could help you feel filthier ;)

Copia! Not that I’m opposed to the idea but my girl needs a break, per favore. You’ve worn her out.

Mi dispiace amore, she’s just so plump and willing and perfect for me, I can’t help myself.

Speaking of your girl, she’s stirring to attention at the thought of where this conversation is going and your fingers hover over the screen, tempted, before shaking your head.

You’re welcome to come over but no funny business. Might show my face in the dining hall to prove I’m still alive if you’re interested in meeting me there.

There’s a pause and your phone vibrates.

I’ll meet you at dinner and see if I can’t persuade her. Ti amo <3

Love you

When the two of you meet up a couple hours later at your usual table in the dining hall you garner more than a few curious looks. Rather than taking his typical spot across from you, instead he elects to sit next to you. You’re midway through a forkful of vegetarian lasagna when you feel the slide of leather clad fingers along your thigh. When you slowly turn your head, Copia’s shit-eating grin pans into view and you drop your fork, unamused.

“Really? In front of my lasagna?”

He gives you a creepy nod, still holding his smile and the sight has you bringing a fist to your mouth to stifle your laughter. Reaching down you grab one of his fingers and bend it back slightly as a warning.

“Ah, my amore would never hurt–ah!”

He cradles his hand to his chest and gives you a pout unbefitting a man of his distinguished age and position.

“Told you,” you say, shoving a bite of lasagna into your mouth then pointing at him with your fork, “no funny business.”

“Oh she’s cruel,” he laments, shaking his head, “La mia crudele, bella padrona. She would watch me wither away, never to feel her touch–”

“Oh come on, Copia, you held me hostage in your bed for almost three days! This is the first real meal I’ve had in literal days please let me–”

“She does not care for me,” he says, somehow managing to give you the most unsettling puppy-dog eyes ever. “She tells me she hates me and she wants me dead.”

“Oh for the love of fuck you cannot be serious,” your cheek rests on your propped up fist, watching this ridiculous display. “I just want to enjoy my lasagna unmolested,” you lower your voice as a sibling walks past, giving the two of you a disgusted once-over, “so naturally that means I hate you. Unholy fuck, if I had known pussy was going to turn you into this I never would have–”

“What kind of fuck?” Copia asks innocently, mustache twitching.

“I–hmm. You must be rubbing off on me.”

“Is that an invitation?” he asks, filthy leer returning to his face.

You roll your eyes but can’t smother the smile.

“I’m leaving, Copia,” you announce, standing up. “If you would like to accompany me to bed - for sleep - then you know where to find me. Unbelievable.”

You stomp off and you can feel his eyes on the sway of your ass the entire way out of the room. He does join you, not long after that, the picture of a perfect gentleman as he strokes your hair and places soft kisses to the top of your head. You can’t lie though - a part of you is disappointed he didn’t continue his dirty old man routine but, you think as your eyes drift closed, you really did need to give your poor cunt a break.

The next morning you awaken to an empty space beside you and you’re not surprised. Copia had to wake up early for morning prayer and you’ve been lucky to have had him by your side for as long as you did. You feel his absence acutely - how could you not after days with him? - and it leaves you with a lingering sense of melancholy as you get ready for the day and leave your quarters. The first few hours of your work day passes without incident - typing emails, ordering archival supplies, meeting briefly with Sister Imperator (with whom you can barely make eye contact after shirking your duties to get repeatedly and thoroughly railed by her Cardinal), and continuing on your quest to catalog the Ministry’s extensive art collection. When lunchtime rolls around that unpleasant sadness sits heavy in your belly. Part of you feels ridiculous letting yourself be so affected by well, love, but hey it’s your first time at this, right? Gotta cut yourself some slack. Your heart aches for him but also…other parts of you. You thought for sure after the marathon he just put you through you’d be satisfied for a while but if anything it’s made you even more hungry. When you look up at the clock and realize it’s lunchtime, a low heat begins to simmer in your belly and between your legs. You hesitate before standing up and heading to the door with a grin on your face.

When you approach Copia’s office door and knock softly, you’re met with a muffled “entrare!” and open it to sidle inside. He’s on his old landline with someone he clearly would rather not be speaking to judging from his exaggerated eye-rolls and dismissive hand gestures. You quietly walk up to his desk and try not to laugh as you listen to him desperately try to end the conversation.

“Uh-huh. Yes. Yep. Uh, you too. Okay, goodbye. Good–what? Yes that will be taken care of, of course. Buh-bye. Bye.” Copia slams the receiver down and turns to fix you with a tired stare.

“Long day?” you ask, rounding the desk to lean against it.

“Stressful day, all of a sudden the fundraiser gala is my problem when it should be Terzo’s problem, but where is Terzo? Nowhere to be found, naturalmente. And Saltaria–wh-what are you doing?”

You’re halfway through sinking to your knees next to him when you blink up at him innocently.

“Helping with the stress.”

His jaw falls open and he swallows thickly, eyes on the way you inch up your flowy skirt to expose your spread thighs to his gaze. You place your hands on his knees and he jumps comically.

“Cardinale, you were very thorough in your ah, teachings these past few days however there are some areas we never touched upon.”

“O-oh?”

“Mmm mmhmm,” you confirm, grabbing the end of his black cassock and inching it up his legs. When you reach past his knees and can go no further he lifts himself off the chair and hastily draws the garment to his hips. You smile at the tent in his trousers and your tongue darts out to wet your lips.

“Missed you this morning,” you murmur, hand coming up to cup the curve of his cock. “Been wanting you so badly all day.”

“T-thought you were eh, sick of my advances?”

You give him a gentle squeeze and smile, resting your cheek on his knee.

“That was yesterday,” you say, finger drawing patterns on his bulge, “And while she might be tired, I certainly am not.”

His gloved hands grip the armrests of his desk chair as you lean forward to slowly unzip his trousers. When you take him out, hard and leaking, he sighs.

“You don’t know how many times I came into this office wanting to do this exact thing,” you confess, hand wrapping around him, “How all you had to do was say the word and I’d be on my knees or bent over that desk.”

He sucks in a breath.

“I-Is that so, amore? So all those times we were in here working, you–”

“--Were thinking about you fucking me raw? Mmhmm.”

Copia lets out a sigh and his head falls against the back of his chair.

“But let’s not think about the past, hmm? All I want to think about right now is you teaching me how you like to fuck my mouth. Okay?”

His hips buck into your touch and he lets out a whine before nodding. Slowly, keeping your eyes on his, you bring your lips to the red, swollen head of him and place a chaste kiss. Pre dampens your lips and you slowly dart your tongue out to taste the salt of him. He exhales shakily and encouraged, you lower yourself once more to drag the tip of your tongue along his slit. His low whimper makes you grin and gently you slide your lips over the head, flattening your tongue underneath him. You want to drag this out as long as possible, delighting in the feel of his heated flesh in your mouth so you suckle at it and moan around him when his gloved hand flies to the back of your head.

“D-dolcezza,” he breathes, burying his fingers in your hair to cup your skull, “Are you s-sure you’ve never done this before?”

You slip him out of your mouth and give him a grin.

“I’m flattered,” you murmur, using your thumb to rub against the vein going down the length of him, “But no. Just watched a lot of porn, honestly.”

He chuffs out a laugh and his head tips back to thunk against the back of his chair.

“Tell me what you want, my love,” you say, “Tell me what you like. Guide me.”

His eyes slip closed and a lazy grin curls his lips.

“Amore you could bite it off and I’d say thank you,” he groans as you lower your lips to suck at the head once more, “But–ah–I want to see what y-your instinct tells you, si?”

When you laugh around him the vibrations make his hips twitch against your mouth, and you take that as permission. Slowly, you slide your lips past the head and down the shaft and you can feel yourself dripping at the way he stretches your mouth. You’re about half way down the length of him and you can feel him petting your hair.

“Bene, amore mio,” he chokes out, “Molto bene. C-can you, eh, take more?”

You’re not sure but you’re willing to try, so you nod as best you can.

“Breathe through your nose, amata,” he sighs and you can feel drool threatening to spill from your lips and tears prick your eyes as you near the base of him. When the head of him prods your throat you swallow around him and the action causes his hips to spasm. Panicked, you jerk backwards - not sliding all the way off but just enough to where you can catch your breath - and you hear him murmuring praise above you.

“Cazzo, so good for me, taking me all the way into that pretty mouth. You’re doing so well for me, bellezza mia.”

His words of encouragement make your clit throb and push you to once again slide your lips down the length of him, dragging your tongue along the underside. This time, when his hips buck into your mouth you’re ready for him, allowing the head to bump the back of your throat as you nose the brown curls between his legs. Gently, the hand in your hair pulls you off him and pushes you back down, and you realize he’s showing you what he likes. 

“Ah, ragazza intelligente mia,” he groans, and you can feel his eyes on you as you begin to bob your head, “My beautiful girl always knows–ah!--what I like. Always–cazzo–so p-perfect for me. J-Just like that. Just like that, amore. J–augh–”

You’ve picked up your pace, the wet sounds between the two of you pornographic as you hollow your cheeks and suck. The hand unoccupied with gripping his cock, slides under your skirt where you find yourself soaked.

“That’s it,” Copia grunts, “Touch yourself, amata mia. L-Let those sweet fingers–hnngh–rub that pretty little clit.”

You do as he asks, moaning sloppily around his cock as you flex your hips into your hand. His grip on your hair tightens as he begins directing the movements of your head once more, fucking up into your throat and making you gag around him.

“Close,” he pants, “So close, a-amore. C-can I cum down your throat? Me lo permetterai? Please, please, please.”

As best you can, you look up at him and make eye contact. You imagine what he must see between his knees - you with your mouth stuffed full of him, mascara running down your cheeks, and your fingers frantically rubbing at your clit under your skirt - and the thought alone makes you cum, moaning around him and your hips bucking. You nod frantically as you continue chasing your own high and with one, two, three thrusts of his hips Copia empties himself in your throat. The way he holds you steady as his cock twitches in your mouth has you clenching around nothing, desperate for more of him. When he removes his hand from the back of your head to cup your cheek as he pants wildly, you slowly slide off of him and rest your cheek on his trembling knee. You’re only half aware of the way he tucks himself back into his trousers and gently eases you up by the shoulders to sit in his lap. You brush your thumb along his cheekbone and lean in for a slow, deep kiss. He hums contentedly into your mouth and you pull away with a cheeky grin.

“Like the taste of yourself, amore? Filthy thing.”

He tilts his head back and laughs at your echoing of his words said only days ago during your first time together. You lean in and brush noses with him, moving to kiss him once more when the door flies open to reveal Terzo.

“I am here to discuss the gala fra–oh.”

The Papa’s eyes flick between the two of you and the smeared paints on both your lips.

“Ah, a little afternoon delight for my topolini, huh? Tell me was it on the desk? A classic, I–”

“Fuck off, Terzo,” you say.

His face falls.

“No, you don’t mean that bella. You–”

“She said fuck off, Terzo Emeritus. Now.”

Terzo schools his face into an expression of outrage but you can tell he’s trying desperately not to smile.

“Very well, just don’t come crying to me when Imperator asks why your work isn’t done, huh?”

“You mean your work, sì?” Copia says, giving him a look. Terzo lets out a nervous laugh.

“Ah, yes. Well. Perhaps I’ll just take this–” Terzo says, grabbing a thick manila folder labeled GALA “--and get back to ah, fucking off. Ciao ciao, topolini.”

With a flourish, he’s gone.

“Really should have locked that door,” you muse quietly, “Anyone could have come in.”

“Anyone did come in, amore,” Copia laughs, “But not only did you eh, soothe my worries, you inadvertently got Terzo to do his fucking job. Promise me you’ll come see me at lunch more often, sì?”

“Not just for the blowjobs?” you ask innocently, flicking the jeweled grucifix on his chest.

“Next time it’s your turn,” he says, gloved hand inching your floral skirt up your thigh.

“Hmm well last I checked,” you say, looking at your watch, “It’s only half past noon. Plenty of time for you to eat.”

He grins at you.

“You know Terzo was right,” he says, urging you to stand and hop up on the worksurface in front of him.

“Oh?”

“We have under utilized my desk.”

Your smile splits your face as you spread your legs for him to settle between.

“Good thing I wore a skirt then, hmm?”

He’s already hooking a finger on the gusset of your soaked underwear, pulling it to the side.

“Thank Satan for small mercies.”

“Ave Sathanas,” you sigh as you lie back and let him work his devilry.

[x-autumn-moon-x]

okay let's do this..

MY RUN DOWN OF CLUES/ SUSPICIONS FROM THE SNEAK PEAK OF RHRN

1. The 3 red candles:

Red is used to represent Fire, Lust, Romance and Protection amongst other things. There being 3 I suspect could point towards either the 3s in religion (3 wise men, sun/ghost/holy spirit etc) or Terzo (unlikely tho)

2. The Calander:

The Calendar has one of the pin badges stuck between September 11th and 12th 2023..

and the piture matches the Re-Imperator post from the Office Ghost Instagram here

Linking the two together..

3. The Psalms:

I don't know much about them but here's a quick Google result with a few on the number variations (mostly the calender dates)

Perhaps hinting and the resurrection of Old Papa and the fact that Copia 'can't get away'..

4. The bust with Seestor:

The bust with Seestor, after some extensive goggling and comparison seems to he of a Greek Goddess called Clytie. Here are the similarities..

Clytie was a Greek Goddess that basically fell in love with the God of the sun who chose another woman over her.. given the history between Papa and Seestor this fits perfectly..

She was however, rather unfortunately buried alive by him and 9 days later turned into a Sunflower (this is why sunflowers always face the sun)

9 DAYS LATER.. September (on the calender) is the 9th month..

*****************

Now this may all be the ramblings of an idiot BUT this is what Tobias wants.. he WANTS us to think and wonder 😂 he enjoys playing with us!

Well bravo sir! I've spent the last 2hrs deepdiving the Internet and watching the same video to pause it and analyse it.. congrats 😂

[farter-imperator]

Thinking about Dew directly after his elemental transition.

Laid out in an infirmary bed that looks too big for someone so small. Induced into a quintessence coma because his body was too badly injured to keep him awake. His wheezing, crackly breaths through the oxygen mask, his vocal cords ruined after the fire burned him from the inside out. His body occasionally jerking as it tries to cough and clear his throat.

Arms, legs, neck, and part of his face covered in burn dressings, his platinum blonde hair charred black, bald in places. One seaglass horn shattered and fragmented, the other one crumbling under the lightest touch. One night, Omega has the horrible job of gently tapping at Dew's horns until they crumble into a dish he's holding with his free hand. They had to break off the remnants of his horns, the fragments were getting stuck in his wounds otherwise.

Copia sits by his bed for weeks. He's horrified at what he did to this ghoul. Papa Terzo's golden ghoul, the sweet little water ghoul, and he ruined him. There was no telling at this point if Dew would even recover fully from this, or if this had ruined him. They didn't even know if he'd be able to become a lead guitarist after this point, the whole reason for the elemental change. The guilt eats Copia alive.

He can't even hold Dew's hand. He tries to. He turns Dew's hand over carefully, and the palm is covered in blisters. He doesn't want to inflict any more pain on Dew by holding his hand.

Papa Terzo is beyond angry. He knows Copia didn't have a choice, the Clergy forced him to perform an elemental change to show that he possessed the powers to be a suitable Papa. But he's still angry. The change would have gone without a hitch if he had done it. But hindsight is 20/20, after all.

Terzo can barely look at Dew. That was his ghoul, and they've wrecked him beyond recognition. He knows Omega feels the same way, he can feel the silent rage as Omega changes Dew's dressings. The anger as he rolls Dew's limp body onto its' side to stop bedsores forming. The hopelessness as he checks over Dew's charts for what seems like the tenth time that hour.

Dew's touch and go. They take it day by day, but at the moment, it would be cruel to wake him.

[cowboyemeritus]

Il Suo Campione (Copia/Reader)

Chapter One

Series Masterlist

Summary: After another victory in the ring, your manager, Copia, makes sure you’re taken care of. (18+)

Content Warning: smut, violence, graphic descriptions of injuries, references to organized crime, drug use, ethically dubious relationship

Read on AO3

Notes: Howdy, everyone! WE ARE SO BACK (for now, at least)! A lot has happened since I last wrote something for you all (graduated college, got a job, moved across the country, etc.), but I got really excited about this idea and couldn’t stop myself. I’m considering turning this into a series, so if you thought this was cool please lmk!

GIF is by @ghuleh-recs :)

You’ve got this bitch licked.

She’s up against the ropes, desperately trying to protect her face as you pummel her over and over again. There’s blood streaming down from her nose, mouth, and a large gash on her hairline. You can tell it’s hard for her to see with how much is in her eyes. One of her front teeth is chipped.

It’s the fifth of five rounds. Thirty seconds left on the clock. Up until now it’s been a pretty close fight. She’s one of the tougher opponents you’ve faced and you’re in equally rough shape. Your split lip stings with every breath, and your nose will definitely need to be set after this. It only adds fuel to the fire of your rage.

You’ll win. Despite being evenly matched, you’ve managed to get in more solid hits, especially in the last two rounds. This girl is a fucking idiot, insulting you like she did.

“At least I don’t have to fuck my manager for table scraps.”

This isn’t about winning anymore. This is about making her suffer.

All you need is a well-timed right hook. You hit her directly on the temple, and she crumples to the ground. The crowd screams their applause, but you can’t hear it over the blood roaring in your ears. Before anyone can interfere, you’re on top of her, landing hit after hit in rapid succession. You want to beat her face in, to turn her into a bloody pulp.

It takes several men to finally pry you off of her.

“Fucking bitch!” You continue to thrash and curse as the referee and the unconscious woman’s manager kneel by her side, checking to make sure she’s still alive. When your opponent finally sits up, you redouble your efforts to break free. She starts to crawl away from you. There is genuine fear in her eyes, the sclera now red with blood. It’s not until you feel a firm hand on your shoulder that you finally still.

“That’s enough, dolcezza.”

Copia is looking down at you, a bemused look on his face. Still restrained, you rise to your feet. You spit a glob of bloody saliva towards your defeated foe, looking her up and down one last time.

Serves her right.

The manager, a hairy man with a misshapen face, points a finger at you, glaring daggers.

“Control your fucking dog, Emeritus.” His entire body shakes with anger. “Or I will have her put down.”

Before the situation can escalate, the men transfer you to Copia, who keeps his composure as always. Grasping your wrist, he raises it in the air and the crowd cheers again. A moment later, his gloved hand finds your waist, pulling you into his side as he whisks you away, leading you out of the ring towards the makeshift locker room. The feeling of his body against yours is grounding, eating away at the rage boiling inside.

“You did well tonight,” he says quietly in your ear. “The Boss will be pleased.”

The crowd is already clearing out of the abandoned warehouse, few willing to risk being caught by the authorities. Some linger, money and drugs moving from hand to hand. You’re about halfway to your destination when one of the loiterers, a man with dark hair and a scruffy beard, intercepts you.

“What an amazing fight,” he exclaims. You detect a slight southern drawl. Copia gives him a polite, reserved smile, and you feel him squeeze your hip.

“What can I say? There is no fighter quite like mine.”

His.

“Indeed,” the man says. Finally, he regards you. “That’s why I always bet on you, darling.”

You mumble out a quiet “thank you,” as you’ve been coached. There’s a moment of tense silence as you wait for the man to get to his inevitable point. He’s jittery, dilated eyes darting around wildly. You know why he, and all these other men, are really here.

It's not your athleticism.

“You know,” he continues, returning his attention to Copia, “I'm quite interested in the particulars of the sport and would love to pick this little lady’s brain. If we could have some time one-on-one, I would-”

“Thank you,” Copia interjects, “but we will have to decline.” Seemingly unfazed, the man takes a wad of cash out of his coat pocket, offering it to your manager with an unsteady hand.

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

Copia’s tranquil demeanor finally cracks.

“She’ll bite your dick off, DeFroque. Now get lost.” For emphasis, you jerk towards him a little, snapping your bloody teeth together. DeFroque jumps back in surprise, paralyzed for a moment. Without another word, he turns tail and flees.

“Quel cocainomane...” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s clean you up.” You nod in assent, and the two of you resume your journey.

The “locker room” is really a grimy old office at one end of the warehouse. It's empty save for a battered old desk and a rusty filing cabinet, the floor covered in chips of yellowed paint. The fluorescent lights flicker as Copia sits you down on the desk and begins inspecting your face. He grasps your chin, turning your head side to side. You want to lean into his touch, but remain pliant for him.

“You’re allowed to defend yourself,” he remarks, examining a pink welt on your cheek. He breaks away to dig through one of the drawers, producing a small hand towel, cotton balls, bandages, and rubbing alcohol a moment later.

You shrug. “I like offense.” Copia’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“That’s why you always draw the biggest crowds, cara.”

Uncapping the bottle, he thoroughly soaks one of the cotton balls. Tilting your head up, he dabs it on the bridge of your nose. You hadn’t even noticed the skin had broken. The alcohol stings, but you remain still, used to the sensation. There’s a comfortable silence as Copia cleans the blood from the rest of your face, taking extra care around each cut and bruise. He has always insisted on caring for you in this way, despite being able to do it yourself. You’ve learned to let him, and savor every touch like it’s a gift.

Copia moves from your face to your hands. You offer them to him as he carefully unwinds the tape around your wrists and thumbs. Knowing the routine by heart, you slowly rotate and bend them to show him they feel alright. Copia nods in approval. With the towel, he dabs at your knuckles, wiping away your opponent’s blood until the skin is visible again. He shoots you an interrogative look when he sees they’re all split.

“She made me mad.” Copia sighs. You both know that in an official boxing league, this kind of behavior would be enough to keep you from ever setting foot in the ring again.

“Amore, what am I going to do with you?”

Now it’s your least favorite part. Copia gestures for you to lay back on the desk and despite the gnawing feeling of dread you obey, legs dangling off the edge. Hovering over you, you can’t help but gaze up at him, admiring the contours of his face. You feel the urge to run your hands through his mousy brown hair, but he’s already reaching for your broken nose. You jolt when he finally makes contact, writhing a little beneath him. He tuts.

“Stay still.” It’s all but a whisper.

There’s a faint crunching noise as Copia pokes and prods at your nose with experienced fingers. You do as he commands, balling your fists and gritting your teeth at the sensation of bone and cartilage moving. Once he’s satisfied with the positioning, he packs your nostrils with cotton, then gently places a bandage over the break, securing your nose in place.

“There,” he coos. “Not so bad, eh?” You glower at him and he chuckles. You think Copia is going to let you sit up but he doesn’t move, looking down at you with an interested look in his peculiar, mismatched eyes. He brushes some loose hairs away from your face and runs his thumb across an undamaged section of your cheek. Planting his hand next to your head, the other finds your opposite hip, effectively pinning you to the desk. You don’t resist when he leans down, pressing his mouth into yours. He’s forceful, enough to agitate your split lip, but careful to avoid bumping into your nose. Closing your eyes, you take in the lingering minty taste on his lips, instinctively parting yours at the feeling of his tongue prodding at you. Unconsciously, your thighs press together.

Copia’s tongue is gentle in its exploration. It crosses your mind that your mouth is still bloody and you are in desperate need of a shower, but clearly he doesn’t mind. With the hand at your hip, he begins to lightly trace the waistband of your shorts, his index finger running along the edge. The two of you remain like this for what feels like forever until, unable to breathe through your packed nose, you start to tremble from the lack of oxygen. Having mercy on you, he breaks away. While you desperately catch your breath, he takes the tip of a gloved finger between his teeth, pulling the garment off to expose his bare hand. It quickly returns to its place, this time right above the apex of your thighs. Smothering you with his mouth once again, Copia swallows your quiet moan as he reaches down to grab at your core. You want to pull him closer, but the second you try to reach around with your free arm he grabs your wrist.

“Let Papa take care of you.”

With no other choice, you lay back as he massages you through the fabric of your shorts. You’re practically melting under his touch, your aches and pains fading until they’re nothing but background noise. The fight itself seems so far way, as if it happened in another life. You can’t imagine why you were so angry before. Right now, Copia is at the center of your whole world, like he is, and always has been, the only thing that matters.

When he finally slips his hand under the elastic to touch you directly, you moan for him again. He traces your clit with his middle finger, dipping down to feel and gather the wetness of your cunt. Your self-control slips, and you grind your hips up into his touch. Seemingly satisfied with your state of arousal, Copia withdraws, sliding an arm under your body and lifting you so that you’re sitting upright. You swing your legs over the other side of the desk so that you’re face-to-face. Copia removes his other glove, placing it next to you before gripping the waistband of both your shorts and underwear. Planting your feet, you just barely lift your ass off the table, allowing him to pull the garments down. You have to kick off your slides so that he can completely remove them, dropping them on the floor next to the desk.

The anticipation is heavy as you watch Copia free himself from the confines of his well-tailored suit pants. His cock is thick and hard, immediately springing forth when he unzips his fly. The tip is flushed a light purple and already beading with precum. You swallow down the saliva rapidly accumulating in your mouth, wanting to reach out and touch him but knowing to let him lead. Sure enough, he takes a small step forward, slotting himself between your parted legs. His hands find the underside of your thighs, lifting them up to rest on his hips. You fall back, propping yourself up on your forearms. The desk is just the right height where he has perfect access to your entrance, and you shudder at the sensation of his cock teasing your folds.

Copia drapes himself over you as he slides inside your wet heat, claiming your mouth again. He fucks like you fight, hard and fast, snapping his hips with an unparalleled ferocity. The force is enough to move you back and forth on the desk, and your already exhausted arms begin to wobble with overexertion. When they finally give out you fall back, nearly smacking your head. You just barely manage to catch yourself.

“Dolcezza, you make Papa a very happy man. You know that?” You nod and Copia rewards you with a well-angled thrust, hitting a spot that has you convulsing under him. He hums, satisfied by your response. Still pounding into you, he grabs onto your sports bra, dragging it upwards to expose your breasts. They bounce each time his hips drive forward, the cool air immediately pebbling your nipples. He pinches one of the pink buds, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, and you gasp, back arching off the desk.

“Fuck!” It comes out like you’ve been kicked in the chest. You can feel the tension building in the pit of your stomach, pulling tight like a rubber band. Copia’s pleasure is evident on his face, his brow furrowed and cheeks flushed. Small droplets of sweat bead at his graying temples.

“You always — Fuck! — You always fight so well for me.”

Slowly, his hand trails down to where the two of you meet. His thumb begins to trace tight circles around your clit, compelling your body to contract around him.

“Papa-”

“Where would I be without you, mia campionessa?”

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, crashing down like a tidal wave. You thrash wildly on the desk, a hand clapping over your mouth to stifle a long string of moans. Copia follows not long after, spilling inside you with a low groan. For a moment, everything is still. You gaze up at him, spellbound. The florescent lights create a blueish halo around his form and with the flush still decorating his cheeks, he’s practically glowing. You know he won’t kiss you again, but when he withdraws entirely, tucking his soft cock away, the disappointment still stings. Unable, as always, to find the right words, you bite back the feeling and silently get up. Going through the motions, you let Copia assist in making you presentable again. You’re acutely aware of his seed dripping out of you, but choose to pull your shorts and underwear back on before he can address it. From a hook on the door he retrieves your jacket and sweatpants. He’s halfway through pulling on his own coat when there’s a knock.

“Yes?”

“Sir,” a muffled voice announces. “The earnings are secure. Car is ready for you.”

“Bene. We will be along soon.” He looks to you, offering you his arm. You take it like it’s a lifeline. “Let’s go home, dolcezza.”

[ghoulodont]

Cardiac Action Potential

The birds and the bees, for a ghoul, are the tria prima and a human sacrifice.

Relationship: None... yet Characters: Dewdrop, Rain Words: 1.3k

Read below or on AO3

Six ghouls wait silently at the locked door of the chapel. On the schedule tonight is the summoning of a singular addition to their lineup, a bass player.

Originally, it was a lead guitar ghoul that the group needed, but the clergy had noted Dewdrop’s proficiency on the guitar, his drive to learn an instrument he wasn’t summoned to play, and offered him an opportunity. After some deliberation, it was decided. The lead guitar ghoul role was filled, and the bass ghoul role was empty.

Dew liked the old lead guitar ghoul, and they had great chemistry together onstage. But he wasn’t continuing with the band. That’s life, Dew supposes. Or, that’s undeath, or however a ghoul’s state of being should be classified.

Regardless, because of this change of plans, the final summoning of this iteration of the band had been slightly delayed. Now that it was confirmed they did indeed need a new bass ghoul, they are ready to proceed.

Eventually the door creaks open, pulled back by a single sister of sin. When the ghouls enter, she closes the door behind them and twists the deadbolt shut with a heavy thunk.

Inside is a chapel designated specifically for summoning. It’s rarely used, but immaculately maintained. If you were to see it between rituals — and you wouldn’t, unless you were tasked with its upkeep, because it’s otherwise kept securely locked — you would hardly know its purpose. One of the only subtle hints is the coffin shape of the stone altar at the center of the raised sanctuary.

Another is the circle surrounding it, painted on the floor with something dark red, its circumference lined with intricate sigils. That might be a hint too.

The altar is bare, pristine, except for six black candles, flames glowing steadily, one at each corner. Copia stands at its head, hands clasped behind him.

Copia, only a cardinal, taking on the role of a pope. It’s all very non-traditional, but it’s not like Dew has much experience with anything else. It’s not the only atypical feature of this summoning, anyway.

The ghouls file into the pews along one side of the sanctuary. The matching pews across from them remain empty. The small nave is mostly empty too, save for a row of sisters.

When the ghouls sit, Copia nods to the sisters, who proceed up the single step into the sanctuary and make their way to the altar. Each of them holds a ritual item, cradled carefully in two hands.

Dew has seen all of this before. He just recently saw it three times in quick succession. It doesn’t get any easier to watch. He’s not sure what the purpose of the existing ghouls’ presence is anyway. It must just be tradition.

The necessary items for the ritual were prepared beforehand, ingredients carefully measured into their own little containers, oddly like the mise-en-place of a cooking show on TV. The first three sisters each hand a small bowl to the cardinal. He takes them, one at a time, and pours the contents of each onto the altar, along its long axis, each reagent in its own place.

The first is a fine yellow powder, a tiny, dusty mountain on the stone surface — sulfur.

The second is a shiny, slippery liquid, forming a little round puddle — mercury.

The third is a white and crystalline substance, pebbles of it tumbling down the sides of its pile — salt.

The penultimate sister is holding a black wooden box, intricately carved and inlaid with gold. She lifts away the lid and Copia removes from it a human heart, which he places on the altar, two thirds from the top, at its widest point.

The final sister hands him a chalice filled with a deep red liquid. This, Dew has been told, is blood, once belonging to someone who is now no longer alive.

Briefly, Copia holds the chalice aloft. Then he lowers it and pours its contents across the altar in a wide, splattering stripe, drenching it and all of the prepared items upon it. The liquid spreads, rivulets reaching the edge of the altar and running down its sides to the floor.

There is a tense beat of silence. Then, the salt sizzles, the mercury bubbles, and the sulfur erupts into bright blue flame.

When the reaction fades, the reagents are gone. The only thing left on the altar is the heart, unmarred. The chapel is silent and still, as if maybe that’s all that will happen, and it’s already over.

But, moments later, the main event begins. Blood vessels sprout from the top of the heart and grow, snaking, across the altar. They twist and branch into a vaguely humanoid shape, a shadow over the stone.

Individual organs congeal, wet and shiny, each budding from nothing and blooming into something recognizable — lungs, liver, kidneys. A brain. Ducts and vessels reach out to one another.

Bones form, the biggest ones first. They start out spindly like twigs and grow in length and diameter, creaking as they expand. They lie disjoint from each other, draped over the existing viscera in a loose semblance of a skeleton. As the first ligaments are created, they begin to pull together. Arms slide into shoulders, legs into hips. Ribs attach to a sternum and vault over the organs of the chest cavity.

Muscle and sinew forms, layer by layer, a macabre, meaty papier-mâché. As flesh connects to bone, the ghoul twitches. His limbs jerk unceremoniously, like a marionette.

One of his flailing arms knocks a candle off the altar and onto the marble floor of the sanctuary. Hot wax pools under it, but the flame continues to burn, rising perpendicular from the wick.

He lets out a low, breathy groan, whatever air was in his lungs pushed out by the contraction of his brand new diaphragm.

Final layers of adipose and skin cover his raw, exposed tissue. As all of his bodily systems come together he continues to twitch, smaller movements but more of them now, until he’s almost vibrating.

Then he flops limp on the altar, motionless.

Copia reaches down and feels for the new ghoul’s pulse, placing two fingers into the juncture between his neck and his jaw. When he nods, the waiting sisters flurry over to lift the ghoul’s body off the altar. As two of them raise his upper body into a seated position, his head first lolls back and then snaps forward, like he’s suddenly awake. His eyes fall open.

Dew watches him take a deep, gasping breath. His first.

Two more sisters join to help pull him up until he’s standing. A fifth drapes a blanket over his shoulders. He’s taller than all of them. The sister with the blanket stands on her tiptoes.

They lead him to sit on the opposite side of the sanctuary. If he were summoned when he was supposed to be, he would be sitting among other newborn ghouls. Instead, he’s alone. At least he doesn’t have to sit through any more summonings right now, to witness his first and only memory as an outside observer before he’s had any chance to get his bearings.

No, Dew wouldn’t wish that experience on anyone.

Dew isn’t listening while Copia says the closing rite. He’s watching the new ghoul. His replacement, yet he’s still here to witness this. It hasn’t ever happened before, at least not that he’s aware of.

The ghoul is pulling his blanket around himself. His head is drooping forward slightly, like it’s too heavy for him to hold up. He’s breathing hard enough that Dew can see the rise and fall of his shoulders from the other side of the sanctuary. When Copia dismisses them all, the sisters return to his side and help him file out of the chapel with everyone else.

Tonight, they will go their separate ways. This new ghoul will be whisked off for further initiation rituals, and then closely monitored for a few days as he builds strength in his new body.

Dew watches as he’s led down the hall in the opposite direction. He looks like a baby deer, unsteady in an endearing sort of way. Something about his proportions adds to the image — he’s all legs under his blanket.

As they turn the corner and continue out of sight, Dew wonders what his name will be.

[copiousloverofcopia]

For the ghoul fuckers out there, here is my recent commission for @dantesunbreaker featuring our favorite gremlin, Dew!

Thank you so much for allowing me to write this for you. It was once again a pleasure and thank you for letting me to share it with others as well!

Also once again please be gentle with me I am not the best when it comes to ghoul content, but I am so happy that you all are giving me a change!!!

If you are interested in commissioning me, my carrd info can be found on my pinned post!

Never Change

The upcoming tour has you on edge when your devilish lover Dew decides to create a stir. While he meant no harm, the ghoul's antics only add to your frustration. When things reach their max and you can no longer continue, it's up to Dew to remind you on how to relax.

Also available HERE on AO3!

Definitely NSFW below the cut

Your head was pounding. The dark circles under your eyes, beginning to feel like a permanent fixture on your face and It seemed that as of late that the days grew longer and the nights shorter. You had begun to feel the weight of all the responsibility, you had at one time so willingly taken on. Now taking its toll more than you had ever expected. 

At first you were elated to have even been asked. Working hard for the Ministry to ensure a successful tour for the Impera cycle was something any siblings would be honored to be a part of. There were days, however, when you hardly left the main office. The small room set aside for you, covered in an endless array of paperwork and incomplete itineraries. 

At times it felt like you too were collecting dust, just as the numerous artifacts and forgotten tomes that surrounded you. More often than not, worried that the more you accomplished—the more you still had to get done. The ominous feeling of dread hitting you from the moment your eyes peeled open with the light of the sun. All of it, you often thought, would be a little less infuriating if it hadn’t been for your own personal gremlin—Dew. 

You had fallen for him some time ago—back when you first became selected as a Canon for the Cardinal. A prestigious position within your Italian sect of the Ministry. You were ready to make a name for yourself just when Dew came into your life. Instantly drawing you in with his fiery and unpredictable nature. He was a force to be reckoned with, and he kept you on your toes. 

The excitement between you left you with a sense of meaning—feeling more exhilarated and alive. All of your desires found to be mutual, leading to a romance between the two of you that rivaled that of Antony and Cleopatra. Hot and heavy, it was a wonder you ever got anything done. All of that, however, came crashing down when Cardinal Copia became Papa. 

Your workload tripled overnight and suddenly you had gone from being able to sneak away to an alcove for some steamy afternoon delights, to being stuck behind the same four walls. Working day in and day out for weeks on end. No end in sight until the beginning of the tour. Worst of all, once the Ghost tour started and Copia left, Dew had to go with him.

You had tried not to think about it. Secluding yourself from the rest of the group. Dew, at first doing his best to give you space. At some point however, there was only so much he could give before a ghoul like Dew could no longer contain his natural urges. 

This week was the worst of it. Dew finding new and inventive ways to drive you mad. First was him clawing up the sofa in the office. Leaving behind a trail of threaded up seams and worn down arm rests. He was a glorified cat in his own right, you thought, praying Sister Imperator would not hold you accountable. 

The rest of the week Dew filled with the antics, the likes of an impetuous child. Trying desperately to gain your attention and doing his best to distract you from your responsibilities. Taunting you with the feel of his slick tongue running down the nape of your neck. His claws, grazing at the heat of your sex, all while you were elbow deep in monotonous paperwork.  It took all the power you had inside you to shoo him from the office. The aching he left between your thighs—absolutely torturous. 

You weren’t sure which was worse, the sexual edging or that he finished things off yesterday with a naked roll in the expense reports. Dewdrop, taking advantage of your quick trip to the refectory, to cover the pages in something wet. You, returning to find him amongst the pile of papers, all of them streaked in black ink and fluids. Of which the origins you dare not ask. 

While you had tried to explain, in vain, why it wasn’t the time or the place. No matter how hard you tried you just couldn’t bring yourself to explain it in a way the ghoul would understand. To him it was all fun and games. He was teasing you after all, and if he wasn’t allowed to have you then this was the best way he knew to spend the time. 

Now as you sat at your desk, you waited for the next Dew episode to take place. Feeling the tears pricking at your eyes when the door to the office creaked open. Your scrunkly handsome, mischievous, and smug ghoul wasting no time to step inside. Noticing right away when he walked in, that your face held more than the suggestion of tears.

“Hey babe… what’s got you all?” Dew asked, gesturing over his face with his hands. You let out a sigh, taking in a deep breath in through your nose, before exhaling sharply through pursed lips. Feeling the resolve you had been holding on to, quickly crumbling down. 

“I—I just can’t take it any more Dew.” you told him. Sobbing into your hands as he quickly closed the space between you. 

“Hey, hey, hey peanut. Tell me what’s going on? Are they adding more work for you again?” he asked, ready to throw hands with whatever clergyman had the balls to give you even MORE to do. 

“No, that's not it.” you sniffled. Drying the tears with your sleeve as they fell from your eyes. Dew’s normally grumpy face, turning soft and concerned in their wake. His tail, coming to rest sullenly between his legs.    

“Then… then what is it?” he asked, seeming to be genuinely unaware of what troubled you. The ghoul, bringing himself to sit beside you on your desk. Hopped up along the edge like a wistful kitten, wanting to comfort you. 

“I am overwhelmed, that's true. Sister is on me to finish up all the contracts for the European venues and to top it off I just found out they are adding another date in September that I need to work out the details on and well… frankly Dew,” You paused, deciding to tell him the truth once and for all,”...you are NOT helping.”  

“What? What do you mean?” Dew asked you, feeling a bit blindsided by your comment. Unsure of exactly what you were trying to tell him. 

“I am running on empty. I have so much left to do and all this stuff with you is making the load feel ten times worse. I just wish… I just wish you’d stop with all the crazy while I am trying to work!” you yelled, putting your head down on the desk. The pounding inside of your skull intensified. It was all out in the open now. Dew pressed his lips together, feeling the weight of your words. Wishing he could take back everything he had done the past week.

“Hey…” he began, nudging you with his horns. You carefully lifted your head to meet with his gaze. This time your impish lover was staring back at you with soft, loving eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh?” you asked him, wiping away the remainder of your tears. Dew pulled you into his arms. Wrapping you in them, allowing you to release in his embrace. 

“I’m sorry, I let things get out of hand. I never in a million years wanted to make you unhappy and I surely didn’t want to make you break down.”

“Oh Dew… it’s not just you. I—” 

“No, I know… but I could have done better to make sure you weren’t getting into a bad place. That was also my fault. I promise you that this will never happen again.” he smiled, running his hand over your hair. 

“I don’t want you to change Dew…” you told him. Worried that he might have misinterpreted what you were trying to say. 

“I am not talking about changing who I am, baby. I am talking about not adding more to your plate when you are at max.” he explained, assuring you that your lovable Hellraiser would still be the same ghoul you fell in love with.  

“Good, cause I wouldn’t have you any other way.” you smiled, bringing your lips to his. Feeling the heat rising between you. Your heart, already beating away as the blood went surging through your veins. 

“Promise me something, will you?” he asked. 

“Of course… anything.” you smiled, finding Dewdrop’s look of sincerity–incredibly cute. 

“Never let this happen again, ok? Don’t wait until you are on the edge before you say something to me. Promise me that you will start to take breaks when you need them. You aren’t invincible babe. You need time to ground yourself too.” Dew explained. You nodded in agreement, surprised that such sage words came from such an unlikely source. Clearly his time spent in Copia’s company was rubbing off on him. 

“I promise.” 

“Good. You know, even us ghouls know what it’s like to need a break. I can empathize with you more than you think. The long hours on the road, lack of sleep, the constant needing to bring your A-game. I promise you, the constant burnout will make things harder and you’ll get even less done in the end.” 

“Really?” you said, though you shouldn’t have been surprised. Dew was part of Ghost and had been for some time. Of course, he knew what it was like to live in chaos and like he was running on fumes. 

“Really… so make me a deal. I promise if you start giving yourself the time you need to recoup, then I will stop being such an ass.” Dew winked, “Deal?”

“Deal.” 

“...and you know there is one thing I can do to help you relax—if you’ll let me.” he smirked. Instantly your skin was flooded with goosebumps. Your body, knowing even before he’d made a move EXACTLY what that one thing was. Dew dropped off the edge, turning to lift you up out of your chair onto the desk as he buried his face in your neck. 

Teeth scraping along a delicate spot as he breathed his hot, steaming words of affection against your skin. His claws, gently traveling down your chest to your stomach as he unbuttoned your shirt. Feeling his desire for you growing hard against the inside of your thigh. Already your body, getting wet at the mere suggestion of him.

“I’m gonna show you just how well I can get you to relax baby.” Dew purred as his fingers slid over your zipper—undoing your pants. You hummed in approval, wiggling out of them as fast as you could without losing your position on the desk.  

“Show me… I need you.” you moaned. Chewing on your bottom lip and watching as his deep, piercing eyes fall to the center of your lap. His fingers, finding their way diligently to the wet spot of your underwear. Dew wasted no time teasing it with his digit. Rubbing you there until it was soaked all the way through. 

“That's right baby… that's what I wanna see. I love how fucking wet you get for me.” he growled. Moving now to sink his fingers fully inside you. His fangs, following suit as he bit into your neck. 

“Ah!” you cried out. Reveling in both the pleasure and pain combined between you. Rolling your head from side to side as the sensations overwhelmed you in the best way. Dew began to lick and suck at the bite. Leaving purple marks of ownership behind them. It would be clear to anyone who saw you, that you belonged to him. That he belonged to you. 

As you leaned back on your elbows, Dew lifted up from your neck  to watch as he pushed his fingers carefully past your folds. Licking his lips as he pumped them in and out of your dripping wet pussy. Hungry to taste you more than anything he had ever tasted before. Not satisfied enough just to have watched you squirm.

“You’re so good for me.” he purred again. His thumb, circling over your swollen clit before he began once again dipping his fingers in and out of you. Your hands, wandering over his sleek back and tangling in his long hair, just before you reached his horns. “Fuck.” he groaned, he loved that. Knowing that they allowed you more control—and he was determined to let you use them. Happily guiding his mouth down along your folds.    

“Ah…mmm…” you mewled as Dew dropped down between your legs. His tongue slithering through your wet lips and licking up inside you. Alternating between sucking on your clit and lapping at your folds as he gently worked your insides with his hands. Humming against you as he did it–the vibrations driving you absolutely mad. 

“Mmmm… So... fucking... good.” he moaned, palming his cock with his free hand. You wanted him. Needed him. Knowing that riding that cock and having him knot you was the only thing that could release you from the built-up tension. Your fingers gripped tightly onto his horns.  

“I’m cumming… oh fuck I'm cumming!” you cried as he pressed hard into your g-stop. The sensation of his touch on the soft, velvety tissue—sending your hips up in the air. Dew, smiling against your clit as he felt you cum. Letting you ride out your orgasm on his hand while he delightfully lapped up your fluids. The juices covering his face when he pulled up to kiss you. 

You were breathless and weak as you laid there on the desk. Unsure if you’d ever be able to move again—though you certainly wouldn’t have had it any other way. Your body, still falling from the heights of passion you’d reached when Dew lifted your legs up and over his shoulders. Hastily pulling his throbbing, leaky cock out from the confines of his pants. 

“I think you’re still a bit tense.” he teased, you too blissfully pleasured to even respond. Well at least not with anything coherent. Dew began running the head of his cock up through your slick. Rubbing at your entrance to finish wetting himself before he was ready to slide inside. 

He didn’t need to bother; you were already so needy and ready for him. Your hips rising up against his shaft. Trying hard to guide his cock inside. Begging for him to fill you, to provide you with the friction you so desperately desired between you. Thankfully you hadn’t had to wait long when Dew plowed his way in. 

“Oh, fuck me!” you yelped as he pushed himself in to the hilt. His meaty cock, meeting with the farthest point of you. Dew was only too happy to oblige. Withdrawing backward, just so he could more forcefully pound back into you. You gripped tight to the back of your legs. Dew’s hands placed on either side of you on the desk to help steady himself as he thrusted away. Fucking harder and harder into your tight, little core with every thrust.  

At one point it crossed your mind that you and Dew were most likely fucking on top of the expense reports from that morning. At that moment, however, neither of you cared. Your body, too engrossed in how good it felt to have him inside you. Bucking away as he pressed tight across your walls, filling you so well you could hardly stand it.  

“Dew… I wanna cum… cum with me.” you mewled. Your wanton cries of desperation, making Dew grit his teeth, hoping to hold back his own climax. There was nothing so hot as you begging for him to let you cum. 

“You want me to cum baby? Well, you gotta cum for me first.” he demanded, his tail snaking up your leg and teasing at your asshole. The fluids from your drenched pussy, spilling down over it as it worked its way inside. 

“Ah!” you cried out as his tail entered you. Slowly fucking your ass as Dew continued to fill your pussy to the brim with his cock. You couldn’t barely stand it. Stretched fully inside by him. The sensation made you want to explode. Unable to hold back as your orgasm came ripping through you so fast that you soaked the desk below.

Dew wasn’t satisfied yet. Lifting up and gripping the back of your legs as he pounded harder. His thumb brought back to your clit, continuing to fuck you in both your holes. His tail swirling around inside your ass and pressing up against his cock, from the other side of the thin walls, while he thrusted into you. 

Neither of you could sustain it much longer. The wet sounds of his lap, meeting over and over again with yours, was absolutely salacious. The well earned sweat, dripping down his back as he continued on. His speed, beginning to slow as he grew closer to his own climax. 

It was unmistakable when you felt it. His cock, beginning to swell all around inside. Pressing against all the right nerves as he spread you out, knotting you. His tail, continuing to move in and out. The two of you panting and whimpering as the pressure inside continued to build.  

Finally Dew couldn’t last any longer. Cumming hard into you. Ropes of hot, sticky cum—painting the back of your walls as his tail slipped from your ass. You, beginning to completely unfurl before him when you clamped down on him once again. Tugging tightly to his knot as you felt the force of yourself squirting around him.   

And just like that it was over, Dew collapsing on top of you. More spent than he had ever been before in his life. It seemed that this relaxation session was just as much for him as it was you. You held him against your chest, your breathing beginning to settle. A sense of calm, that was promised to you by your ghoulish lover, taking hold. 

“You see,” Dew began while still panting away, “there is nothing like a good fuck to help you relax.”

“Agreed.” You told him, both of you laughing in one another’s arms. There was nothing more you would ever need, than to be held by those arms. No matter how crazy things got, Dew would always find a way to level with you. Even in times that didn’t involve an overwhelming amount of sweat and cum. 

“Thank you.” you told him. You were finally relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever. Even more so now, knowing that you could come to Dew with your problems. Knowing that you could be honest with him and that it was ok to give yourself grace when you needed it. No matter what he would always be there for you.

“Anytime.” Dew smiled, helping you up from the desk so the two of you could clean yourselves off. Suddenly, as you rose off the desk, a look of concern spread across his face. Accompanied by an even more worrisome nervous grin.

“What?” you asked, not sure you wanted to know the answer as you picked off the stray papers sticking to your back.  

 “Now… don’t get mad, but I think we might have gotten some jizz on Copia’s permit agreement. 

“Dew!” you laughed, giving him a tap to the chest, “Never change.”

[im-queen-of-the-black-forest]

What’s Mountain Munching On?

Copia: *talking to a new sibling* Every now and then, when I’m around the ghouls, I like to play this little game called “What’s Mountain Munching On?” Where I try to guess what the tall one over there has decided is food today. *points at the far corner where Mountain is standing and obviously chewing*

Copia, continued: it even comes with a little song! *ahem* 🎶 ohhhh whaaaat’s that? 🎶

Cumulus:*appearing beside Copia* 🎶 I say whaaaaaat’s that? 🎶

Swiss and Sunshine: *leaning around the corner* 🎶 Dear Lu-ci-fer what iiiiiiisss it?? 🎶

Rain and Cirrus:*turning to lean over the back of the couch*🎶What is it? What is it? Who knows? Not me! 🎶

Aether: *slinging an arm around Mountains shoulder* 🎶 Oh my curiosity does thrive!🎶

Dewdrop: *crawling out from under the couch* 🎶 Hopefully it’s not alive! 🎶

All Ghouls and Copia: *in a disturbingly perfect harmony*🎶WHATS MOUNTAIN MUNCHING ON??🎶

Mountain:…..*sticks out his tongue to reveal what is very clearly part of a tennis ball*

Ghouls + Copia: *intense cheering*

New sibling: …*intense confusion*

[puuuders]

Currently in the process of conjuring another self indulgent terzomega drawing. I'm mentally ill so I drawn to the sound of my own thoughts (just kidding, supposed to be cringe)

But fr I am silently drawing and thinking about some shit. I am a big sucker for resurrected Terzo shenanigans. Partly because I'm delusional and am crossing my fingers all the theories about him coming back are true. Anyways MY POINT IS

how would omega react to this?

Imagine going years without your partner because they're deceased. And then one day they're just back. Don't you think it would be just as mentally scarring for Omega as it was when Terzo died (or at least similar in severity)???

So I guess this is a bit of a headcanon ramble. Here's some bullet points on how I imagine it

Ghouls are only sent back to the pit if they're going against the clergy. So most of the ghouls that had been summoned are still there

Terzo died in 2018, resurrected 2024 (only reason is bc that's the year sister imperator goes bye bye)

Omega didn't see ANYONE ELSE for the 6 years in between

After Sister died, Copia gets access to some spell book idfk that the higher clergy members have that they use to summon ghouls. Since he is now frater imperator, he now owns the book

Copia resurrects all of the brothers

Copia hides this for a couple days until secondo says "I don't give a shit" and started waltzing around like he owns the place

The ghouls find out, for some reason I imagine Alpha specifically telling Omega that Terzo is alive

Omega goes kind of insane. He avoids the brothers, thinking he's hallucinating or dreaming or something

When he finally realizes that it's real maybe a couple days after he has a mental breakdown

Terzo kind of forces the walls down and holds omega while omega pretty much wails for like an hour

After omega calms he refuses to leave terzos side. HELLLLLA protective

Also I have this random story playing in my head of Omega batheing (bathing? Idk how to spell) Terzo for weeks after because he's scared that terzo will hurt himself or ruin the stitches in his neck.

Omega is basically extremely paranoid the rest of his life but it calms down after a while

I definitely think Omega would be so shaken by it. I'm thinking about writing a fic about the bathing idea but it would be so angsty and minor nsfw because nudity but should I?????? Idk

Anyways thanks for coming to my Ted talk I need to draw this mfs kissing now

[dracopias-bloodbag]

Bewitched By Bloodlust | Dracopia x F! Reader | III

Chapter III: Tarocchi

You spend more time in the presence of the enigmatic Papa and he continues trying to whittle away at your stubborn demeanor. But one wrong move sets him off, and the next thing you know he's demanding to see exactly what you can do in terms of your craft. He wants you to prove yourself, and you'll do that with the weathered deck of tarot cards he had found in your bag the night you met.

chapter content: 2.3k words. 18+ only, enemies to lovers, slow(ish) burn, eventual smut, slight dubcon, blood, blood drinking (duh), kidnapping, imprisonment, choking, copia is a sadistic asshole in these first few chapters, the reader Is a defiant little shit, forced tarot readings?? is that a thing?, spitting, canon divergent (see masterlist for details),

Recommended Listening:

The Prophecy – Taylor Swift

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Masterlist ☽𖤐☾ Read on Ao3

The next few days are uneventful. You spend the days staring at the wall, the ceiling, even the hole in the corner that an occasional rat sticks its little nose out of to stare at you. Most people would be disgusted, but you cock your head as the little creature looks at you. You toss it a scrap of your dinner, almost feeling a sense of comradery with the vermin.

You’re an outcast like me, but at least you’re free. You think to yourself as you watch the little animal pick up the piece of food and scurry off with it.

At one point you manage to pull your cot up to the window so you can stand on it and look out. There’s nothing much outside aside from the trees in the forest you had come from. For a brief moment you wonder if your pleas for help would reach your coven miles away if you screamed loud enough.

By the time he returns you’re excited at having at least some change of scenery.

Goddess help me.

His hair is disheveled, and he looks tired, but not as bad as the last time you saw him. 

Copia notes how your demeanor is vastly different than before, the way you don’t move from the cot, instead remaining sat criss crossed on it as your fingers weave a tiny braid into your hair.

He had spent all day waiting for this, being in and out of meetings, working out the ministry budget, it was never ending. And then he had a meeting that he had been dreading; the one where he had to lie to Sister Imperator and that insufferable ghost of Nihil about your fate. 

To them, you were a threat he had been warned about, but one that could be easily and quickly exterminated. Copia had spoken evenly, and surprisingly clearly when he stated that you had met your demise; proudly displaying your silver dagger along with your necklace wrapped around it for proof of his supposed kill. He hadn’t missed how two of his ghouls, Dewdrop and Swiss, had exchanged glances. But he knew they wouldn’t tell, they were loyal to him first and foremost.

“And she did this to you?” Imperator’s eyes had landed on Swiss, noticing the cut on his cheek. 

Swiss had glanced at Copia before speaking. “Yes Sister, but I succeeded in driving her towards Papa, and he handled it from there.”

She hummed, seeming to ponder this for a moment, her eyes fixed on the ghoul, until she seemed convinced that he was telling the truth. 

“So she was a fighter, I’m both surprised and glad it’s over and done with.”

When Sister Imperator was satisfied with the outcome she had quickly moved on to discussing some other trivial topic that Copia had absolutely no interest in listening to.

Instead his mind had wandered to you. His little secret, locked away in the confines of the forgotten dungeon. Only his most trusted ghouls keeping watch over you.

Copia knew The Ministry would eventually find out that you were alive, but it was a problem he would worry about later. For now, you were his secret, his meal. He had tried in vain to focus on Sister’s words, but he found himself instead thinking of your scent, the softness of your skin, the way your hair tickled his nose when he fed from you…

Now that he was standing in front of you, strangely enough he feels all the stress of his day wash away.

But that feeling is gone as soon as you open your mouth to speak.

“Haven’t you taken enough from me?” Your eyes burn with hatred as you narrow your eyes at him. “One of these times, you’re going to take too much, too close together, and then your favorite meal will be gone forever. Then at least  I’ll finally know some peace instead of having to live in this goddess forsaken hole.”

Copia practically growls as he stalks towards you. He grabs you by the neck and you yelp as he lifts you up effortlessly, before pulling you tightly against his body.

“Why don’t you shut up for just once?”

Your mouth is agape at both his motions and his words. And you shudder as you feel his breath against your ear.

“What else am I supposed to do?” You grit out between clenched teeth. “How else am I supposed to survive this?”

He chuckles, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“You could try sweet talking your way out.”

“Fuck you.”

He chuckles, the sound echoing through the dungeon and reverberating back at you as it bounces off the stone walls. He just stands there watching you for a second. Those eyes of his flickering over your face as if he’s trying to decipher something, as if he can find a weak point just by gauging your reactions.

“You thought you were so smart sneaking onto The Ministry grounds, eh? You thought it would be simple – get in, make your kill, and get out. But it wasn’t, was it?”

He releases you then, taking a step back as you crumple to the floor before glaring up at him.

“You thought it would be an easy task, no? Your precious pendulums and tarocchi told you that you would be safe, that you would carry out your duty to your coven like a good little witch.”

He pulls something out of his coat pocket then, and tosses a leather bundle at you. Instantly you recognize your weathered deck of tarot cards wrapped neatly in the cover you had made for them. The cards scatter as they hit the floor, and you sit and stare at them in disbelief for a moment, before scrambling to try and pick them up.

He chuckles darkly watching you as you collect the cards and stack them in your hands as neatly as you can in your panic.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t see you coming? Do you really think the other night in the forest was my first time seeing you?”

He reaches down and grabs your face in his hand, and you whimper as his fingers dig into the soft skin of your cheeks.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time, strega. You just never saw me, hiding in the shadows, observing you as you walked amongst your coven. It’s charming really, how sweet you always were to them, how you were willing to do any and every bit of the dirty work they demanded of you.”

“You don’t know anything about them.” You snarl.

Copia smirks down at you, noting the flash of panicked doubt in your eyes as you say those words.

“Don’t I? I watched the way they walked all over you. They forced you to do the spells they were too afraid of doing themselves, like the cowards they are.”

He leans down so that his face is inches from your own.

“It made you feel empty, no? Lonely even. But it made you the strongest witch among them.” His gaze flits between your wide eyes, and for a millisecond you think that you see them glance down to your parted lips, but in the blink of an eye his gaze is locked on yours once more.

“I watched them break your heart over and over again, and I could feel the way all of your fears melted away when they gave you the sacred task of killing me.”

Your jaw is clenched as you glare daggers into his mismatched eyes.

“You thought that if you succeeded they’d finally accept you as one of their own, no?”

Don’t do it.

“You thought they might actually consider you as part of their inner circle.”

You grit your teeth.

Don’t do it.

“Maybe, just maybe… you thought they might promote you to serve as a High Priestess alongside them, eh?” He laughs at that, the sound making you grit your teeth as it bounces off the stone walls once more.

Don’t–

Your lips quirk up into a smirk then, and you push away the voice in your head before…

The motion is quick, if he blinked he would have missed it, but the wet feeling of your saliva on his face is unmistakable.

You fucking spit on him.

About three different emotions cross his face at once as he draws back and wipes at his cheek with his gloved hand. He looks dumbstruck at first, before realization sets in and his eyes meet yours. There’s amusement, shock, and finally… rage.

“You really shouldn’t have done that.”

Copia moves swiftly, moving around your body until he’s kneeling behind you. He secures you with a hand on your neck. He drops to his knees behind you, dragging you towards him, his strong arms yanking your body back against him. He holds you tight to him, so that you’re nestled between his thighs, and you can’t help the blush that spreads across your cheeks as you realize his crotch is pressed up against your ass.

His eyes flit down to the cards in your hands, as he sweeps your hair to the side, exposing your neck to him. He leans in close to your ear, his voice so low and gravelly that it makes you shudder.

“Why don’t you show me what you can do, eh?” He grabs your hand that’s still gripping the tarot deck for dear life. “Why don’t you find out your fate now that you’re here with me?”

You shudder as his lips brush against the crook of your neck.

“Are you fucking kidding?” Your voice is small, barely above a whisper, and it makes him smirk against your skin.

“No, I’m not fucking kidding, strega.” He growls. “Do. A. Reading.”

Your hands are trembling as you move to begin the process. Your knuckles tap on the back of the deck in three short knocks before you begin shuffling the cards. You fight to stay focused, trying to make sure your hand doesn’t slip and cause the cards to scatter everywhere.

His razor-sharp fangs graze against your skin, the action making you shiver and your mind go blank. In that moment the countless tarot spreads you had learned in your short lifetime seem to evade you and all you can focus on is the feeling of his breath on your neck.

He nips at your pulse point, pulling a tiny gasp from you. “Don’t make me ask again.”

Fuck, okay. Past, present, future, keep it simple.

As you finish shuffling the cards you split the deck into three equal stacks, and you feel your heart pounding as you look at them all, trying to go with your gut and choose one.

It's at that moment that he sinks his teeth into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder. You cry out, your hand flying forward to grip onto something, anything as that familiar searing pain floods your senses. Your hand closes around one of the stacks you had made, and you wince as the edges of the cards dig into your palm.

He’s growling against your skin as he drinks, and you want to hit him over the head for the effect his noises have on you. You bite your lip, shutting your eyes, as you instinctively let your head fall to the side.

But he grabs your face with his other hand, making you gasp as he pulls away from your neck for a second.

“I didn’t say you could stop. Focus, strega.”

Is he fucking serious?

But the way his fingers dig into your waist tells you that he is. You stack the cards up again, placing the stack you had grabbed on top, before taking a deep breath as you draw the first card.

Past… Eight of Swords.

Restriction, feeling trapped, like you don’t fit in and can’t express yourself freely.

You take a shuddering breath, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped as the realization struck that this was exactly how you had felt in your coven. 

Maybe he was right…

You push the feeling and that thought away as you shakily reach for the next card in the stack.

Present… The Tower.

Oh fuck… Of course. Sudden changes beyond your control, upheaval, areas of your life that are being torn down that no longer serve you.

Copia is still drinking from you, and for a moment your attention is torn from the cards to him. His scent seems to wrap itself around you, and you have to bite your lip to stifle a noise as you feel your head begin to spin. He seems to sense your unease and the effects his actions have on your body. He pulls away once again to whisper in your ear.

“One more, piccolina… I know you can finish.”

A hot streak of blood slips from the wound on your neck and slides down your chest. Your shaky hand swipes at it before you hold it up, gasping softly at the sight of your trembling fingers covered in your own blood. You shut your eyes before reaching out with that same hand to draw the last card.

Future… 

The Lovers

What the fuck?

It was one of the most self explanatory cards in the deck, it was the one you spent your girlhood hoping and praying to any deity who would listen for, yet it never seemed to find its way into your readings. 

Until now.

The world spins around you as your vision starts to go out, dark spots threatening to consume it as you begin to lose consciousness. Your ears are ringing so loudly that you can barely hear the way Copia’s breath hitches as his eyes land on the card in your hand. For a moment you mentally curse your beloved tarot cards, wondering why the hell they’re telling you that romantic love is near…

…Or already in front of you.

The last thing you see before darkness consumes you is his gloved fingers plucking the bloodstained card out of your own.

Sorry for yet another delay, I suffered a loss of a childhood pet a couple weeks ago and was also dealing with some intense work stress. But I'm doing better and getting back to working on this has really helped get me out of my funk! ❤︎‬

Thank you as always for reading, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing this one!

Comments, kudos, and reblogs are always appreciated! ‪‪❤︎

Translations: tarocchi - tarot strega/streghetta – witch piccolina – little one

[thelampisaflashlight]

Some Bea thoughts, because I think of her often. Let's go.

-She's originally from New Jersey, which part I have decided specifically, but I think she's less rural and closer to one of the cities there, at least when she was a baby/toddler.

Since her mother moved them around a lot when she was growing up, the places she's most familiar with are the ones where they stayed for at least a couple months.

-Both of Bea's parents are deceased; Her father died when she was still fairly young, so she doesn't remember him well, but her mother only passed about a year into her time living at the abbey.

Prior to being informed of her mother's death, Bea didn't even know she was still alive.

Bea has no other known living relatives.

-Bea is very conscious of how others look at her, but usually only when they're reacting negatively, she has no gauge for when people are being genuine or looking at her affectionately, and tends to be shocked when others express legitimate interest in her.

-Bea didn't really have a lot of toys growing up, so she's always been a little envious of the people who grew up with Legos and Barbies and Hot Wheels cars.

Bea's favorite toys growing up were a broken claw clip and a rubber alien toy she got out of a gumball machine at a gas station.

She also had a dollar store "Barbie", the type that are made of thin plastic and have messed up faces, but it got lost at some point, and, honestly, she was kind of glad when it disappeared,

And lastly, Bea's unofficial rating of the ghouls;

-Mountain 8/10 (secretly a 10/10) if they're speaking to each other, 0/10 if he broke the fucking tractor again.

-Rain 8/10 when he isn't trying to drag her into the water, -10,000/10 if he tries a bitch one more time.

-Dewdrop 9/10 as close to a perfect rating as the ghouls get, with the guys at least, 4/10 if he's trying to talk her into talking to Mountain after he broke the tractor again.

-Swiss 5/10 she doesn't know him well enough to have a truly negative opinion of him, but there's always time.

-Aether 7.5/10 because he keeps telling her to stop pushing herself as if he's a doctor or something... And, yes, she can confirm her appointment for Monday morning, geez.

-Aeon/Phantom 5/10 for the same reason as Swiss, but also because he keeps nervously reminding her that she needs to take her iron supplements like Aether told her to.

-Cumulus 10/10 no notes.

-Cirrus 7.5/10 because she scares Bea on a fundamental level, but that also makes her respect her more than most of the ghouls.

-Aurora 6.5/10 like Cirrus, she scares her, but in more of a twins from the shining way when she pops up with Aeon to remind her to take her iron.

-Bonus Copia 3/10 because he's her boss and he's always trying to tell her what to do... because he's her boss. Eying him from afar on the UTV/10.

[nihildenial]

🐁what typically non-cute animal i think each papa would have🐀

tw bugs and rodents and lots of swearing (i am PASSIONATE)

primo: spiders

this old fart loves his garden and what helps his garden more than spiders. primo's cranky ass likes spiders bc they listen to his problems and carry the fuck on unlike his fratelli. bonus points if they make sick ass webs like the yellow garden spider below

secondo: pigeons

this pitbull-looking motherfucker is a giant softie who toured new york once and cried like a bitch bc primo wouldnt let him rescue a pigeon. he has a perch outside the abbey where his ass sends letters like he's from the 1800s bc he loves his birds and terzo can go fuck himself if he's going to call them flying chicken drumsticks again

terzo: tegu

yes i know. the slutty younger brother should have some sort of sensual, fluffy animal but i say NO. give that man a lizard. this shit right here is the black and white tailed tegu and it fucking looks like a goddamn metal singer but is a massive cutie patootie who loves snuggling their human. terzo feeds his chubby tegu like a baby and will not tolerate any slander against his giant lizard child

copia: rats (of course)

this wet-eyed bitch loves his rodents and makes little sweaters embroidered with all of their names. i fall into the trap of copia naming them after the different kinds of pasta bc he's a sad orphan and he stress ate pasta as child. his rats are the prettiest goddamn rodents you've ever seen and he WILL ask for their opinions on his outfits. they are more well-behaved than any child under the age of ten you've ever met bc copia has made sure they have fucking manners

papa nihil: u think that fucker can keep anything alive?

[gravehags]

destroying all (and make them want it again) - the natalie edit

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!OC (Curator!OC)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: copia holding natalie hostage for marathon fucking, copia being our favorite little sex freak, office sex, blowjobs, terzo being terzo, natalie becoming more satanic every day :)

Words: 2,851

Summary: You'd think after almost three days of being held hostage by her perverted lover, Natalie would have tired of his touch. You'd think.

a/n: me editing this (everything) about natalie: god i wish that were me

~~~

By the time Copia allows Natalie to stumble out of his quarters two days after her fateful visit she is delightfully, deliciously sore.

She had no idea he’d be so…voracious. That she’d be so voracious. Her mild-mannered awkward Cardinal had her bent over and spread on every surface in his apartment, multiple times, drawing words out of her that she never dreamed of saying. He wasn’t a cruel kidnapper either - sporadically he would leave the apartment and return to her bearing sustenance from the dining hall. Natalie’s favorite was lounging nude on his mussed sheets while he dutifully and adoringly fed her plump purple grapes, kissing her in between bites. The thought stirs her heart as she opens her apartment door and stumbles inside to her bedroom to collapse face down on the duvet. She groans as she hikes one leg up, the beautiful ache of being thoroughly used emanating from her core and into her muscles. She’s about to throw herself in the shower when her phone vibrates.

Miss you already bellezza mia xx

She sighs.

Miss you more <3

I could…come over?

Natalie laughs out loud, shaking her head.

You dog! You’re relentless. I haven’t showered in days, I feel filthy.

I could help you feel filthier ;)

Copia! Not that I’m opposed to the idea but my girl needs a break, per favore. You’ve worn her out.

Mi dispiace amore, she’s just so plump and willing and perfect for me, I can’t help myself.

Speaking of her girl, she’s stirring to attention at the thought of where this conversation is going and Natalie’s fingers hover over the screen, tempted, before shaking her head.

You’re welcome to come over but no funny business. Might show my face in the dining hall to prove I’m still alive if you’re interested in meeting me there.

There’s a pause and her phone vibrates.

I’ll meet you at dinner and see if I can’t persuade her. Ti amo <3

Love you

When the two of them meet up a couple hours later at their usual table in the dining hall they garner more than a few curious looks. Rather than taking his typical spot across from her, instead he elects to sit next to her. Natalie’s midway through a forkful of vegetarian lasagna when she feels the slide of leather clad fingers along her thigh. When she slowly turns her head, Copia’s shit-eating grin pans into view and she drops her fork, unamused.

“Really? In front of my lasagna?”

He gives her a creepy nod, still holding his smile and the sight has her bringing a fist to her mouth to stifle her laughter. Reaching down she grabs one of his fingers and bends it back slightly as a warning.

“Ah, my amore would never hurt–ah!”

He cradles his hand to his chest and gives Natalie a pout unbefitting a man of his distinguished age and position.

“Told you,” she says, shoving a bite of lasagna into her mouth then pointing at him with her fork, “No funny business.”

“Oh she’s cruel,” he laments, shaking his head, “La mia crudele, bella padrona. She would watch me wither away, never to feel her touch–”

“Oh come on, Copia, you held me hostage in your bed for almost three days! This is the first real meal I’ve had in literal days please let me–”

“She does not care for me,” he says, somehow managing to give her the most unsettling puppy-dog eyes ever. “She tells me she hates me and she wants me dead.”

“Oh for the love of fuck you cannot be serious,” her cheek rests on her propped up fist, watching this ridiculous display. “I just want to enjoy my lasagna unmolested–” she lowers her voice as a sibling walks past, giving the two of them a disgusted once-over, “--so naturally that means I hate you. Unholy fuck, if I had known pussy was going to turn you into this I never would have–”

“What kind of fuck?” Copia asks innocently, mustache twitching.

“I–hmm. You must be rubbing off on me.”

“Is that an invitation?” he asks, filthy leer returning to his face.

Natalie rolls her eyes but can’t smother the smile.

“I’m leaving, Copia,” she announces, standing up. “If you would like to accompany me to bed - for sleep - then you know where to find me. Unbelievable.”

She stomps off and she can feel his eyes on the sway of her ass the entire way out of the room. He does join her, not long after that, the picture of a perfect gentleman as he strokes her hair and places soft kisses to the top of her head. She can’t lie though - a part of her is disappointed he didn’t continue his dirty old man routine but, she thinks as her eyes drift closed, she really did need to give her poor cunt a break.

The next morning Natalie awakens to an empty space beside her and she’s not surprised. Copia had to wake up early for morning prayer and she’s been lucky to have had him by her side for as long as she did. She feels his absence acutely - how could she not after days with him? - and it leaves her with a lingering sense of melancholy as she gets ready for the day and leaves her quarters. The first few hours of her work day pass without incident - typing emails, ordering archival supplies, meeting briefly with Sister Imperator (with whom Natalie can barely make eye contact after shirking her duties to get repeatedly and thoroughly railed by Imperator’s Cardinal), and continuing on her quest to catalog the Ministry’s extensive art collection. When lunchtime rolls around, that unpleasant sadness sits heavy in her belly. Part of her feels ridiculous letting herself be so affected by well, love, but hey it’s her first time at this, right? Gotta cut herself some slack. Her heart aches for him but also…other parts of her. She thought for sure after the marathon he just put her through she’d be satisfied for a while but if anything it’s made her even more hungry. When she looks up at the clock and realizes it’s lunchtime, a low heat begins to simmer in her belly and between her legs. She hesitates before standing up and heading to the door with a grin on her face.

When she approaches Copia’s office door and knocks softly, she’s met with a muffled “entrare!” and opens it to sidle inside. He’s on his old landline with someone he clearly would rather not be speaking to judging from his exaggerated eye-rolls and dismissive hand gestures. Natalie quietly walks up to his desk and tries not to laugh as she listens to him desperately try to end the conversation.

“Uh-huh. Yes. Yep. Uh, you too. Okay, goodbye. Good–what? Yes that will be taken care of, of course. Buh-bye. Bye.” Copia slams the receiver down and turns to fix her with a tired stare.

“Long day?” she asks, rounding the desk to lean against it.

“Stressful day, all of a sudden the fundraiser gala is my problem when it should be Terzo’s problem, but where is Terzo? Nowhere to be found, naturalmente. And Psaltaria–wh-what are you doing?”

Natalie’s halfway through sinking to her knees next to him when she blinks up at him innocently.

“Helping with the stress.”

His jaw falls open and he swallows thickly, eyes on the way she inches up her flowy skirt to expose her spread thighs to his gaze. She places her hands on his knees and he jumps comically.

“Cardinale, you were very thorough in your ah, teachings these past few days however there are some areas we never touched upon.”

“O-oh?”

“Mmm mmhmm,” she confirms, grabbing the end of his black cassock and inching it up his legs. When she reaches past his knees and can go no further he lifts himself off the chair and hastily draws the garment to his hips. She smiles at the tent in his trousers and her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

“Missed you this morning,” Natalie murmurs, hand coming up to cup the curve of his cock. “Been wanting you so badly all day.”

“T-thought you were eh, sick of my advances?”

She gives him a gentle squeeze and smile, resting her cheek on his knee.

“That was yesterday,” she says, finger drawing patterns on his bulge, “And while she might be tired, I certainly am not.”

His gloved hands grip the armrests of his desk chair as she leans forward to slowly unzip his trousers. When she takes him out, hard and leaking, he sighs.

“You don’t know how many times I came into this office wanting to do this exact thing,” she confesses, hand wrapping around him, “How all you had to do was say the word and I’d be on my knees or bent over that desk.”

He sucks in a breath.

“I-Is that so, amore? So all those times we were in here working, you–”

“--were thinking about you fucking me raw? Mmhmm.”

Copia lets out a sigh of her name and his head falls against the back of his chair.

“But let’s not think about the past, hmm? All I want to think about right now is you teaching me how you like to fuck my mouth. Okay?”

His hips buck into her touch and he lets out a whine before nodding. Slowly, keeping her eyes on his, she brings her lips to the red, swollen head and places a chaste kiss. Pre dampens her lips and she slowly darts her tongue out to taste the salt of him. He exhales shakily and encouraged by this, Natalie lowers herself once more to drag the tip of her tongue along his slit. His low whimper makes her grin and gently she slides her lips over the head, flattening her tongue underneath him. She wants to drag this out as long as possible, delighting in the feel of his heated flesh in her mouth so she suckles at it and moans around him when his gloved hand flies to the back of her head.

“D-dolcezza,” he breathes, burying his fingers in her long, loose hair to cup her skull, “Are you s-sure you’ve never done this before?”

Natalie slips him out of her mouth and gives him a grin.

“I’m flattered,” she murmurs, using her thumb to rub against the vein going down the length, “But no. Just watched a lot of porn, honestly.”

He chuffs out a laugh and his head tips back to thunk against the back of his chair.

“Tell me what you want, my love,” she says, “Tell me what you like. Guide me.”

His eyes slip closed and a lazy grin curls his lips.

“Amore you could bite it off and I’d say thank you,” he groans as she lowers her lips to suck at the head once more, “But–ah–I want to see what y-your instinct tells you, si?”

When she laughs around him the vibrations make his hips twitch against her mouth, and she takes that as permission. Slowly, she slides her lips past the head and down the shaft and she can feel herself dripping at the way he stretches her mouth. She’s about half way down the length of him and can feel him petting her hair.

“Bene, amore mio,” he chokes out, “Molto bene. C-can you, eh, take more?”

She’s not sure but she’s willing to try, so she nods as best she can.

“Breathe through your nose, Natalia,” he sighs and she can feel drool threatening to spill from her lips and tears prick her eyes as she nears the base. When the head of him prods her throat she swallows around him and the action causes his hips to spasm. Panicked, she jerks backwards - not sliding all the way off but just enough to where she can catch her breath - and she hears him murmuring praise above her.

“Cazzo, so good for me, taking me all the way into that pretty mouth. You’re doing so well for me, bellezza mia.”

His words of encouragement make her clit throb and push her to once again slide her lips down the length of him, dragging her tongue along the underside. This time, when his hips buck into her mouth she’s ready, allowing the head to bump the back of her throat as she noses the brown curls between his legs. Gently, the hand in her hair pulls her off him and pushes her back down, and she realizes he’s showing her what he likes. 

“Ah, ragazza intelligente mia,” he groans, and Natalie can feel his eyes on her as she begins to bob her head, “My beautiful girl always knows–ah!--what I like. Always–cazzo–so p-perfect for me. J-Just like that. Just like that, amore. J–augh–”

She’s picked up her pace, the wet sounds between the two of them pornographic as she hollows her cheeks and sucks. The hand unoccupied with gripping his cock slides under her skirt where she finds herself soaked.

“That’s it,” Copia grunts, “Touch yourself, amata mia. L-Let those sweet fingers–hnngh–rub that pretty little clit.”

Natalie does as he asks, moaning sloppily around his cock as she flexes her hips into her hand. His grip on her hair tightens as he begins directing the movements of her head once more, fucking up into her throat and making her gag around him.

“Close,” he pants, “So close, N-Natalia. C-can I cum down your throat? Me lo permetterai? Please, please, please.”

As best she can, she looks up at him and makes eye contact. She imagines what he must see between his knees - her with her mouth stuffed full of him, mascara running down her cheeks, and her fingers frantically rubbing at her clit under her skirt - and the thought alone makes Natalie cum, moaning around him and her hips bucking. She nods frantically as she continues chasing her own high and with one, two, three thrusts of his hips Copia empties himself in her throat. The way he holds her steady as his cock twitches in her mouth has her clenching around nothing, desperate for more of him. When he removes his hand from the back of her head to cup her cheek as he pants wildly, she slowly slides off of him and rests her cheek on his trembling knee. She’s only half aware of the way he tucks himself back into his trousers and gently eases her up by the shoulders to sit in his lap. She brushes her thumb along his cheekbone and leans in for a slow, deep kiss. He hums contentedly into her mouth and she pulls away with a cheeky grin.

“Like the taste of yourself, amore? Filthy thing.”

He tilts his head back and laughs at the echoing of his words said only days ago during their first time together. Natalie leans in and brushes noses with him, moving to kiss him once more when the door flies open to reveal Terzo.

“I am here to discuss the gala fra–oh.”

The Papa’s eyes flick between the two of them and the smeared paints on both their lips.

“Ah, a little afternoon delight for my topolini, huh? Tell me was it on the desk? A classic, I–”

“Fuck off, Terzo,” Natalie says.

His face falls.

“No, you don’t mean that bella. You–”

“She said fuck off, Terzo Emeritus. Now.”

Terzo schools his face into an expression of outrage but she can tell he’s trying desperately not to smile.

“Very well, just don’t come crying to me when Imperator asks why your work isn’t done, huh?”

“You mean your work, sì?” Copia says, giving him a look. Terzo lets out a nervous laugh.

“Ah, yes. Well. Perhaps I’ll just take this–” Terzo says, grabbing a thick manila folder labeled GALA “--and get back to ah, fucking off. Ciao ciao, topolini.”

With a flourish, he’s gone.

“Really should have locked that door,” Natalie muses quietly, “Anyone could have come in.”

“Anyone did come in, amore,” Copia laughs, “But not only did you eh, soothe my worries, you inadvertently got Terzo to do his fucking job. Promise me you’ll come see me at lunch more often, sì?”

“Not just for the blowjobs?” she asks innocently, flicking the jeweled grucifix on his chest.

“Next time it’s your turn,” he says, gloved hand inching her floral skirt up her thigh.

“Hmm well last I checked,” she says, looking at her watch, “It’s only half past noon. Plenty of time for you to eat.”

He grins at her.

“You know Terzo was right,” he says, urging her to stand and hop up on the worksurface in front of him.

“Oh?”

“We have under utilized my desk.”

Natalie’s smile splits her face as she spreads her legs for him to settle between.

“Good thing I wore a skirt then, hmm?”

He’s already hooking a finger on the gusset of her soaked underwear, pulling it to the side.

“Thank Satan for small mercies.”

“Ave Sathanas,” she sighs as she lies back and lets him work his devilry.

[honimello]

all papas general headcanons

basically just headcanons i have about their past, childhood, and personalities! and some other stuff like physical description and personal experiences.

—

a/n: these honestly probably might not fit the canon like at all or what some of you might head canon but that’s okay cus i’m just letting my brainrot fester at this point. i left their relationships open ended so there would be imagination room for like an x reader thing lol. also i picked their birth dates based on vibes alone and i know very little about the zodiac signs i just thought it would be fun lol

warnings: angst, vaguely implied abuse, poor childhoods, character death, mentions of sex and sexual orientations, (nihil fucking sucks and sister imperator kinda does too), (also all papas are alive), vague mention of eating issues, mentions of wanting children, mentions of marriage, one nsfw bullet point for each so 18+ MDNI!! also not proofread

primo: 68, born september 14th, 1955 virgo

5’10, around 140ish pounds, blonde with shaved hair, but used to have long hair that he would braid and came down to below his lower back. speaking of his back, he has a hard time standing up straight now so he appears shorter than he is.

his mother was a random woman from a bar, nihil only found out about her pregnancy until she was 7 months pregnant. sister imperator was rightfully very angry finding out about this, but she had her suspicions of his promiscuity. she often took out her anger on primo, especially when he became papa and she gave him more work than he probably should’ve been doing. although, she did slightly lessen up on him around the time when he had taken in copia.

he’s actually quite sad he never really got to meet his mother, but he didn’t have much time to think about it once his brothers started coming along. he stepped up more often than not in taking care of them, he was more of a father (and a mother honestly) than nihil would ever be. and sister never really had any interest in interacting with him or his brothers, except for copia.

speaking of copia, primo found out about him when copia was around 11-12 and he took him in quite fast. it only took one look at that little boy for primo to know it was his brother. when he was younger he used to get a little jealous that sister imperator was so invested in copia’s wellbeing and upbringing given that she had never been a mother to him or his other brothers but primo eventually just found himself feeling grateful copia had a mother, even if she wasn’t a very good one.

when primo became papa he got rid of the prime mover position, seeing how it destroyed sister and nihils marriage as well as his brothers childhoods made him incredibly angry. he also didn’t care for the connotation that women are made to have children and carry on the bloodline only. he’s a romantic (and a feminist), and that notion always made him nauseous.

secondo visits primo the most out of all his brothers, copia often visits too but doesn’t have much time. terzo only really visits when he is having some sort of emotional or personal dilemma that he cant figure out on his own. primo doesn’t mind, he’s willing to help his brothers and see them whenever he can. though in his old age he does get quite lonely and wishes they could make more time for him, but he doesn’t hold it against them.

primo finds himself wanting children now that he’s older, even if he might not be able to bare his own anymore he often entertains the idea of adopting one of the orphans at the ministry. he wishes he had someone by his side as well, and while his random sexual encounters with few siblings are enjoyable, he longs for a more steady companionship.

it’s harder for him to get erections now but still enjoys having sex, even if he doesn’t always come. is very good at oral and fingering and definitely loves to spoil his partner. will probably cry happy tears if someone sucked him off even if he couldn’t get hard all the way, he still enjoys it. can still fuck hard but will probably be very sore afterwards. pls give the old guy a nice warm bath after and maybe a kiss on his wittle head.

secondo: 57, born august 18th, 1966 leo

6’2, around 180ish pounds, brunette but has shaved his head since he was 20, huge resting bitchface even when he was a baby, muscular but has put on some pudge since becoming papa.

his mother was the first prime mover in around 100 years, she was a sibling of sin who nihil had a passing attraction towards and decided to torture sister imperator by naming her prime mover. she died giving birth to secondo. secondo blames himself, and tends to despise himself because of this.

in his teenage years he often spent sleepless nights crying for her, how much he wished he could’ve met her or at least seen her as there were no pictures of her. he wondered if she would love him, be proud of him, or fight to be his mother like terzo’s mother did. or if she would leave and never come back like primo’s. now, in his older age he has come to reconcile with the fact that he will never know. but even though he never got to know her, he still misses her dearly.

after secondo loses his papacy, he throws himself into ministry work. he works long hours, well into the night and spilling over into the weekends. he’s an archivist and restoration expert, working on artifacts important to the church. he feels like this is the only way he will not go insane. he loves terzo but he does not believe him to be ready or fit to be papa when it comes terzo’s time. and he is partially right, as terzo definitely lets the power go to his head but over time he becomes more in control. secondo finds himself feeling sorry for his little brother when terzo loses his papacy, it was wrong of sister imperator to take it away from him like that and secondo hates to see what losing the limelight has done to his brother.

secondo is known around the ministry for his intimidating visage and aura, as well as his wrath. but what people don’t pay attention to, is just how often he bites his words. he has worked very hard to keep his anger at bay, even going to therapy to find more healthy ways to cope with his trauma and rage. in fact, he does his best to be polite and kind to everyone in the ministry. but his kind is different than others kind, he comes off as cold and calculating. his emotional range is very limited and he finds himself struggling to open up to anyone. the only person he’s ever opened up to was primo, and even then it isn’t really opening up if his brother can just read him like a book. secondo often doesn’t have to say much for primo to understand what he’s going through. primo helps him through it regardless, as he’s always done since secondo was a baby.

secondo isn’t sure if he would want kids of his own, but he does love children very much and is very good with them. he often volunteers to run events for the orphans at the ministry.

he would like to fall in love but thinks he is much too old and not nearly attractive enough to find a long term partner. has flings here and there with some siblings of sin but they aren’t very serious. he isn’t sure if he’s really quite ready to give up the party life yet no matter how much his aching bones say otherwise.

does frequent bars and clubs to feel like he’s still a part of the scene after losing papacy, but it doesn’t quite feel the same and most nights he leaves drunk, angry and alone. the few nights when he finds company are not as fulfilling as he hopes they would be, and it isn’t the other persons fault it’s his. he feels so melancholy now it’s hard to focus on simple pleasures like sex, especially when he hardly has the time with how hard he works. he often lays away most nights wishing he could’ve done better as papa, even though he knows people love him and respect him he still feels like he never quite did enough. he feels like he isn’t enough.

loves sex, and can get quite rough but is very, very good at aftercare. definitely not picky about sexual partners but tends to prefer people who are shy cus he enjoys bringing them out of their shells and getting them to snap at him. secretly wants to be fucked and dominated.

terzo: 54, born june 12th, 1969 gemini

5’3, around 120ish pounds, black hair like nihil and wishes he looked more like his mother who was a redhead, definitely spot treats grey hairs, hates the idea of getting old and is very insecure about having wrinkles, is quite small but still a little chubby, though he lost lots of weight since losing papacy. might be bigender or genderfluid but is afraid to really think about it too hard.

his mother was also a prime mover, but she fought to be in his life even as sister imperator tried to push her out. she was a very loving mother who did everything she could to teach him to be a good man, to be nothing like his father who she had come to despise. she taught him many things, she taught him how to dance, to draw and to cook. he loved her very, very much and it tore him up when she passed. he was 14 years old, and that’s when he decided to put up a façade. he did not want to be vulnerable anymore, he didn’t want to have to be sad or scared at least not where anyone could see him.

primo often held him in his bed when he would cry about losing his mother, he had nightmares for years. he vowed to himself to not let himself ever be so vulnerable in front of any one again. to this day thinking about her kills him little by little, though he is much better at expressing his feelings.

his flirtatious and playful persona is something he really relies on in his older age, he thinks it’s all he’s really good for anymore. a show and a good lay. and when he loses his papacy he absolutely crumbles. the persona completely falls away and he hides himself in his quarters most days. he loses weight and wallows, he becomes enraged by fate but he finds he could never really be mad at copia for taking over, it’s not his fault anyways.

in his teenage years he was quite promiscuous and took on many lovers, and while he still has casual flings with some siblings of sin, he never lets partners overlap anymore. he’s a gentle soul at heart and he learned that very fast, he can’t stand seeing someone upset, even if he’s only attracted to them in a more primal way it would kill him to see someone upset because of him.

i believe he is very loyal and if he were to get into a relationship with someone, even if they didn’t state that they were exclusive, he would still ere on the side of caution and not have sex with anyone else. i think if he were in love he would be hopelessly devoted, he’s more sensitive than he tends to let on and cheating is not something he would let himself do. maybe when he was young, he might’ve slipped up somehow, but not now. he’s much too intelligent and much too mature, he’s grown and he knows how to control himself now.

and while he does have quite a lot of sex, i think the sheer abundance of partners has been greatly exaggerated through false rumors and gossip. people tend to lie about having slept with him just for the five seconds of fame it brings them, and that often causes problems with people thinking he has cheated on many people.

is terrified of marriage but longs for it desperately, he wants to feel like someone wants him for him and not because he is/was papa. he’s not sure if he wants kids, he’s horribly afraid of being a bad father.

is horrified of being like nihil in any way, and nearly throws up when someone mentions that he has the most resemblance to nihil out of all his brothers.

is a huge giver sexually, could literally come from just watching someone else come. loves to overstimulate and go above and beyond. doesn’t really require someone to reciprocate and take care of him as well but it is deeply appreciated as he can also be quite the pillow princess.

copia: 52, born october 15th, 1971 libra

5’8, around 130ish pounds, light brunette hair that is going grey at the sides, is very petite but with a softness to him especially around his belly, hips, and thighs, he has light freckles all over his body,

he was an accident, sister imperator never meant to get pregnant but she had planned to tell nihil about the baby until she had caught him with yet another sibling of sin. she decided it would be better for copia to grow up as an orphan in the church, and to be raised by her secretly. copia didn’t even find out she was his mother til primo had found him and taken him in at age 11. sister often pushes copia to work harder, her hopes for him to become papa one day slowly begin to become his hopes as well. and it’s hard for him to say if he really wants the papacy or if he just wants her to be proud of him.

he grew up very lonely and outcast, the other orphans in the ministry thought him strange and unappealing. he had been told from a young age that he was ugly and weird. now that he’s older, he’s since found out that he’s autistic, but he knows that’s not the entire reason they didn’t like him. he thinks maybe he really is just strange and ugly. and as a young boy, when he’d found a rat scavenging for food outside of the ministry, he thought to himself he’d finally found a friend who was like him. unloveable and unwanted. misunderstood.

growing up he never understood the importance put on sex and romance, it isn’t until he’s older that he realizes that he’s demisexual and demiromantic, but it doesn’t really phase him. he never really cared about those things, he doesn’t care that he’s old now and hasn’t had sex, it’s not something he would want unless he really loved someone and had a deeper connection to than just passing lust. although, at night he often dreams of meeting someone he could have a connection with, and those nights are the only ones he really partakes in lust alone in his bed. dreaming of something that could be, but in his mind, is more likely to be just a dream.

when he becomes papa he is terrified, not only of the immense pressure on him to be the best he can be and do good for the church but also of losing himself. yes, he loves the new attention this is giving him and yes, he loves feeling important now. but something just doesn’t sit right in his stomach. again, he’s not sure if he really wanted to be papa anyway or if he just wanted to complete a goal that was thrust upon him at a young age. he tries not to let his papacy change him, and for the most part all it really changes is it brings him out of his shell a little more. he begins talking to more siblings and higher clergy members, but like always, he ends up lonely. they’re never quite interested in copia and more interested in papa, and he doesn’t understand because to him they are one in the same.

his stage presence is very different to his real presence, he likes to let out his “wild side”, as he calls it, when he’s on stage. he feels more comfortable, more free to be sexual and flirty, as well as quite commanding, when he is in front of the crowd. mostly because he knows they like him, that they’re there to see him. it gives him quite the confidence boost, in his performance and his personal life. he doesn’t get quite as depressed as often as he did as cardinal but now his depression holds much harder topics to grasp. things like his identity and where he belongs in the grand scheme of things, and if he will turn bitter like terzo when he eventually is traded in for a newer papa. he hopes not, but envy was a sin that often came easily to him.

is terrified of aging in a similar way to terzo, he feels like he is already very ugly and now that he is getting older he feels like he is becoming even more unattractive. he tends to avoid mirrors as much as possible because his reflection nauseates him, he hates his face and his body with a burning passion.

he does not indulge in the willingness of siblings like his brothers do, while his stage presence may suggest he is a sexual person (which he is honestly) he hasn’t felt any sexual attraction to any sibling of sin so far. most of which only really approach him because he is papa, and while he has no problem with guiding and helping his flock, he does have a problem with it when they ask for him to fuck them. it’s not something he wants.

is also the only papa to not participate in sexual rituals and black masses, though he does oversee them and encourage siblings of sin to participate if comfortable. he celebrates others choice to lust but doesn’t feel tempted to lust for anyone else.

when he is in a relationship with someone, and he does feel sexually attracted to them, he is incredibly eager. he has done his research i can assure you, countless videos and articles on sex and hours of “research” watching porn of the porniest variety. he gets quite horny, and before his partner he masturbated quite often, he isn’t innocent by any means. he is a virgin and is quite awkward, tends to fumble and trip over himself a lot but he isn’t subtle about wanting someone when he does want them. definitely a switch, pls someone peg this guy.

——

hope you liked these!! and if u have any questions or just wanna indulge me in conversation, i would love to talk more in depth about these headcanons!!!

[lucifers-little-sunshine]

Dance Macabre/ Papa Nihil Origin Theory

Dance Macabre is one of my favorite music videos, but Lore wise it seems to open up more questions than it answers. It doesn’t seem to fit into the timeline that the Chapters present of a continuous bloodline of Papas that stretches back for ages.

This is my theory for how Dance Macabre fits into the Ghost Lore and reveals a lot to us about the history of the Ministry and Papa Nihil. I felt motivated to finally write this out after reading @ngnt-writes theories on how Papa Nihil may become the next Papa.

Let’s start with his title. Papa Emeritus Nihil. Like most things in Ghost this phrase has an actual counterpart in the Catholic Church and is used to refer to a deceased or retired Pope. This implies to me that the first person to carry that title within the Ministry of Sin would have been an actual Pope in the Catholic Church at some point. Maybe he quit after he began to worship Satan to form his own church, maybe he died and Satan sent him back from the pits of Hell.

We also have the issue of if the bloodline goes back so far why have we only reached number four? (Okay obviously the real world reason is that the lore wasn’t planned out at the time Secondo gave his “Io Sono Papa Emeritus Secondo” speech, but I’m still going to try and reconcile it with the lore.) I think that Papa Nihil was the first ancient Papa who founded the Ministry.

At the Start of the Dance Macabre video we see Nihil and his friend show up at the party. They seem clueless to what the nature of this party actually is, although Nihil isn’t really digging the vibes. At first I interpreted this a couple different ways.

Nihil has no idea what’s going on and they’re walking into a trap

Nihil is already a part of the Ministry and is luring in an unsuspecting victim to be sacrificed

The first seemingly doesn’t fit, unless somehow Nihil is from the bloodline and doesn’t know it, and this party is meant to bring him back into the fold. But I think there’s another possibility. The Nihil we see without a white eye at the beginning of the video really is just a random guy the Ministry picked out. So this is my most far fetched theory, but the one I think explains the most.

Before the video the Ministry has a major problem. The last Papa died with no successor. They are scrambling to appoint a new person. A young Sister with ambitions of power sees this an opportunity and begins to dive into the history of the church. She learns about the first Papa Emeritus and attempts to contact his spirit within the crypts of the Ministry. After all, if Satan brought him back to life once he might do it again.

Next they select the host and the sacrificial lamb. The party is set up to lure them both in for the resurrection ritual. The doorman can’t let them in until he’s sure they’re the ones that have been chosen, because it can’t just get out into the world that the Ministry performs human sacrifices. I don’t think they’re even something they commonly do these days. But in this case it’s clear that the only way is a life for a life.

At the moment that Sister punches Nihil and gives him his white eye, he looks around as if seeing the world for the first time. He could be seeing things from a new perspective as someone who has ‘seen the light’, or it could be that this is Papa Nihil’s first time being alive in centuries.

This makes Nihil’s betrayal of Sister all the worse. The kiss at Whisky a Go-Go was just the last straw. She had brought him to life, fallen in love with him, and he didn’t even choose to have one of his heirs with her. I think there is also a good chance that she thought she could control him and his career in ways that she couldn’t. We see with Copia that even though she loves the people closest to her very deeply, that manifests in her having her own plan for their success that she expects them to follow.

She brought him back to life with expectations for how his career and their relationship would go, and when he didn’t play along she left and plotted give her son that power.

[lilypadlys]

Erosion

For ghouls, heats are a love hate affair. They can be wonderful excuses to indulge in sin, let off some stress, and are great bonding moments for packs and mates. Heats can also be messy, distracting, and sometimes painful. Additionally, they also have the delightful tendency to come right when they’re least convenient.

Cirrus goes into heat and earth ghoul cock is the only cure.

Ship: Cirrus/Mountain

Word Count: 2,657

Rating: Mature, NSFW

Tags: mating cycles/in heat, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, vibrators, vaginal sex, aftercare

Read below the cut or on AO3

For ghouls, heats are a love hate affair. They can be wonderful excuses to indulge in sin, let off some stress, and are great bonding moments for packs and mates. Heats can also be messy, distracting, and sometimes painful.

Additionally, they also have the delightful tendency to come right when they’re least convenient. All the ghouls have fallen prey to an ill timed heat at one point or another on tour, Swiss most recently. His heat caused him to act feral for a week’s worth of rituals before Copia practically sicced Mountain and Cirrus on him. Cirrus just sighs in resignation that now it’s her turn.

Rather than let herself stall and try to break her heat on her own, something she’s notorious about doing back home, Cirrus goes straight to Cumulus and Aurora. They even get Sunshine on the phone to take part across the distance. That night in the hotel they work Cirrus through her rapidly peaking heat until they’re all exhausted but satisfied. And that should have been it. So why, now as they're all getting dressed for the ritual the next evening is that flaming desire rising in her gut tenfold?

Aurora sneaking a kiss when she helps Cirrus put on her face paint feels dizzying. She can’t help but stare at the wonderful view of Rain’s ass when he bends over to tie his boots. Cirrus practically doubles over when Swiss makes a show of sloppily kissing Dew for the whole room to see.

“Cue?” Cirrus winces when her voice cracks.

“Yeah hon?” Cumulus’ eyes flick up to meet Cirrus’ in the dressing room mirror. “You alright? You look pale.”

“Heats still going.” She whimpers.

“Still? You poor thing.” Cumulus sets her hairbrush down. “Come on, let's go find a quiet corner to take the edge off okay?”

“I don’t know if it’ll help…” Cirrus trails off, eyes watching the path of a certain earth ghoul in the mirror. Cumulus watches as Cirrus’s pupils blow and the end of her tail flicks. She follows Cirrus’ gaze in the mirror.

“Ah, one of those?”

“Yeah.” Cirrus’ reply is absent minded.

Another fun caveat to heats is that while most of the time, anyone who consents to participate is able to help at least take the edge off if not break the heat, sometimes heats cause one to lock on to a certain individual or individuals. It doesn’t make the heat impossible to break without the subject(s) in question but it’s certainly harder and longer.

This time, Cirrus finds herself fixated on Mountain.

The earth ghoul is currently oblivious but that likely won’t last for long. As it stands, Cirrus has to actively fight to not go proposition him right now because she knows once they get started she won’t be able to stop. No. First they’ve got a show to perform. And perform she will, as grueling as it is when her gut feels like she’s burning alive in flames of need.

Cumulus is still determined to help take the edge off though. She tuts, gently pulling Cirrus’ hands away from the vanity where she’s left crescent shaped claw marks in the wood.

“I know it won’t fix it but let's make tonight a bit more bearable okay?”

Cirrus nods, letting Cumulus pull her out into the hall and to some dark corner of the venue for a little pre-show action. She even feels a bit better as she cums over Cumulus’ fingers, her whimpers muffled by her band mate’s lips. The distraction of the nervous energy of performing helps a bit too but soon enough that heat starts building again.

It’s finally time to take center stage with her keytar. The heat of the stage lights only ensures her uniform is as damp as the gusset of her panties. The endorphins from performing mix with the tang of sweat making her dizzy with it. She nails her solo; playing with unmatched enthusiasm from how charged up she is. She’ll get through the show just the same; but it’s so tempting to get just a taste of what she wants.

On the way back to her platform, she detours to Mountain’s riser to purr in his ear. She runs a hand over his back, claws extended just enough to make him shudder. She watches as his head jerks up, a sign that he’s caught the scent of sweat and desire rolling off of her, before skipping away. She can feel his eyes on her for the rest of the set. When she notices Mountain watching the sway of her hips as she dances on her platform during the encore, she only dials it up; making eye contact as the both play their instruments on autopilot. It's a desperate attempt to work out as much of her nervous energy as possible more than to secure her bed fellow for the night. Sweet Mountain would never leave her hanging like this but hormones are hormones.

When it’s finally time for bows, Mountain immediately crosses to her. He doesn’t bother to tug on his boots even if he’s technically supposed to. She smiles wide for the crowd but Mountain can see the strain in her jaw. She reaches for his hand and grips it tight.

“Hey Breeze. Are you doing okay?”

“Need you. Bad.” She practically growls the last word.

Mountain waves at the crowd with his free hand while squeezing her hand with the other. “Whatever you need, sweet girl. I’m yours.”

Getting to the buses takes excruciatingly long and they’ve still got a long ride ahead of them. Fortunately it's a hotel night but they can’t seem to get there soon enough. Mountain notices Cirrus squirming in her seat so he slides over to whisper in her ear.

“Come sit in the back with me.”

That’s all the encouragement she needs, racing to the back of the seating area with the earth ghoul in tow. Mountain grabs a blanket from his bunk before sitting and pulling her into his lap. Everyone politely averts their eyes when Mountain begins to mouth at her neck and slips a hand up her sweatshirt to play with her tits. Never has she been so glad to forgo a bra.

“Want more?” He murmurs into her hair.

“Please!” Is her whispered hiss. She doesn’t care anymore that they're still on the bus. She’d do just about anything for some relief.

Mountain pulls the blanket over the both of them and slips his free hand past the waistband of her jeans. He cups her, rubbing a thumb over her clit through her panties and she lets herself slump against him. It’s nowhere near enough to really tackle the issue at hand but it serves to distract her enough to make the rest of the ride tolerable.

Satan bless, they finally reach the hotel. Mountain carries her and their bags into their room and gently sets her on the bed. He’s barely set down their bags and is about to settle down to join her when her hand shoots out to fist in his shirt collar.

“If you don’t make me cum right now I will make someone bleed.” She promises with a hiss.

“Yup. Got it.”

Mountain doesn’t bother with formalities. He just helps Cirrus shuck her jeans and panties and focuses on getting his tongue on her like his life depends on it. Threat of imminent blood loss will do that to someone. Regardless he’s still more than willing to help. He focuses his ministrations directly on her clit to give her as much pleasure as possible as quickly as possible.

He’s rewarded with her cries of “Fucking finally!” and “Oh Satan just like that!” Coming from the ghoulette normally less vocal about her pleasure, it’s high praise and plenty of encouragement to keep going.

Mountain unglamours his tongue and continues to flick the now forked tip over Cirrus’ clit. He braces her hip with one hand before running two fingers through her folds to gather her slick. Then he’s gently sliding those long, thick digits inside her.

He fucks them in and out slowly in time with his tongue; warming her up to it. Then after a minute he sinks them deep and curls up searching for the spot that’ll-

“Shit! Right there!” Cirrus’ cries confirm that Mountain has found it.

Mountain puts all his focus into tonguing and fingering the air ghoulette within an inch of her life. Even as she writhes under him and her unfortunately unglamoured claws dig into his shoulders, he doesn’t dare stop.

It’s not long before her thighs are tensing and her moans increase in volume. She barely manages to warn him before she’s coming and soaking his chin in slick. He keeps working her through it even as she starts to shake in overwhelm. When she makes a pained noise he pulls back, only to find her hands gripping his hair and forcing his tongue back on her.

“No! Don’t stop! Please!”

Her plea sounds so desperate Mountain doesn’t waste time to reply. He just hums against her in what he hopes she understands as an affirmative. Making sure to breathe through his nose, he keeps going. This time his nimble fingers dance over her clit and he sinks his tongue as deep as it will go in her cunt, drinking up her release all while coaxing a fresh one out of her.

Her second orgasm hits her more strongly, having her arching off the bed and trembling. She bats at Mountain’s shoulder to get his attention. He pulls back, licking her slick off his lips with relish.

“Feeling a little better?” He cups her chin with his clean hand and she leans into it.

“Yeah.” She nods breathlessly. Then she winces, shaking her head.

Mountain nods in understanding. Heats are like that. It generally takes several really good orgasms to break them.

“What do you need from me Breeze?”

Cirrus shakily sits up. “Your cock?”

“Of course Cir. Let's get you some water real quick and then I promise we can keep going.”

“Okay.” She accepts the water bottle he finds in the minifridge, taking a swig.

“Gonna grab the lube. Is your wand in your bag?”

Cirrus wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and nods.

“Yeah, side pocket. Lube’s in there too.”

“Got it.”

Mountain returns, items in hand and gives them to Cirrus. She’s already pulled her sweatshirt off so she fingers herself open a bit more to prepare to take Mountain while he himself strips his own clothes. Once naked and unglamoured, he moves up to rest between her spread legs.

He reaches for the lube but she squirts it into her own hand instead. She takes up Mountain’s length and slicks him up herself. Mountain’s not complaining; it feels sinfully good and it’s clear Cirrus is enjoying it as well. Her pupils are blown as she slowly jacks him; watching how the head disappears and reappears in her hand, how her hand can only cover about a third of his length at a time. Her free hand teases at her clit all the while. Mountain patiently waits for her to make the next move. When she suddenly flinches and rolls her hips up into nothing it’s clear a fresh wave of desire has hit.

“I’m ready whenever you are.” Mountain reassures, soothingly rubbing her thigh.

“Please.” She hisses and squeezes her eyes shut as her lust becomes so intense it hurts. “Need you.”

“You’ve got me.”

As she flops back against the mattress again, Mountain helps her lift her legs to rest at his hips. He lines himself up and at her nod slowly begins to push in. The effect is immediate. Cirrus can’t help a pleased little moan. The stretch, the pleasant fullness, the promise of relief. The heat in her gut is still there but it’s finally being fed, painful need slowly replaced by pleasure.

“Still okay?” Mountain asks as he bottoms out.

“More than.” She sighs.

“Here’s this.” He hands her the vibrator. “Gonna start moving now.”

Cirrus switches on the vibe as Mountain pulls almost all the way out. She’s just brought it to her clit on its medium setting as he shoves back in, knocking the air from her lungs. With a wheeze, she grips the sheets with her free hand and laces her ankles around his back to encourage him to thrust deeper.

“Good?” Mountain asks as he grinds into her.

“Fuck yes.” She nods frantically.

“If you need to stop?”

She pats his arm twice.

“Okay.”

“Please keep going.” She whimpers.

“I’ve got you.”

Few words are spoken past that point. There's only the slap of skin on skin, the buzz of the vibe, and vocalizations of pleasure from the both of them. It’s intense. Cirrus is so tight and wet and every desperate little whine of hers and clench of her cunt has Mountain groaning and shuddering. For Cirrus it’s almost too much, the stretch, how Mountain’s cock hits places only her longest strap-on could hope to reach, the vibe on her clit doubling her pleasure. The combination practically makes her see stars.

Cirrus’ orgasm comes on quickly, but to her it doesn’t feel nearly soon enough. Still, she can tell it’s gonna be a big one. One of those that’s so much that it almost hurts even as it’s still building. Then that pure wave of tingly bliss hits and she’s sobbing with the intensity. Mountain echoes her cries with moans of his own as her cunt flutters around him and he falls over his own edge.

The feeling of Mountain’s cock kicking and the warmth of his cum filling her only serves to prolong Cirrus’ orgasm. She’s only vaguely aware of spitting out a string of curses interspersed with Mountain’s name. Then she’s arching her back, squeezing her eyes shut and crying even more as the pleasure turns to overstimulation. Fortunately everything stops. The vibe is removed from her white knuckled grip and shut off and Mountain stills. Cirrus cracks her eyes open to see Mountain smiling at her and petting her hair.

“Back with me Cir?”

“Yeah. That was a lot.” She pants.

“Too much?” Mountain’s smile turns concerned.

“No. It was amazing. I really needed that.” She sighs, eyes fluttering. She wraps her arms around him, holding him close. Chest’s pressed together they can feel the frantic beating of each other’s heart as they come down from the adrenaline.

Mountain kisses her forehead after a moment.

“Feeling any better?”

“Lots. I think that may have done it.”

“Okay. Let me know if that changes. Wanna try and get some sleep?”

“Uh huh. Shower first though.” She wrinkles her nose at the mess of sweat, slick, and cum between them.

“Of course.” He chuffs.

Mountain eases himself out of her as gently as possible. Then he scoops her up and carries her to the bathroom, helping her sit on the counter as he gets the water started. She’s shaky on her legs in that way a good orgasm causes but Mountain is sure to make sure she doesn’t fall. Then rinse off best they can, too tired for much more than soaping up. Mountain gently cleans between her legs though and promises to help her wash her hair at tomorrow’s hotel. Cirrus conjures a wind to dry them both off quickly and they change into fresh clothes. They’re both thankful that the room has two beds and they get settled in the clean one.

For the first time in several days, Cirrus feels satiated, her heat finally broken. She curls up to Mountain’s side with a contented purr, one that he soon matches.

“Thank you for that.”

“Of course my cloud. All comfy?”

“Mm hmm.” She yawns and snuggles into him as he wraps an arm around her back.

“Sweet dreams.” Mountain kisses her brow and finds her already fast asleep.