#i love how you can see the lack of hair at the back of terzos head haha saving money on the mask mr ghost

[ghelullu]

Trink Deinen Rotwein, Munich 04.12.2015

ft. Terzo backshots!

[theunholybastard]

Kinktober: October 4th - Dry-Humping (Cardinal Copia x Gender-Neutral!Reader)

Tags: Established Relationship, Dry-Humping, Drunkenness, Desperation, Humiliation, Light Pet Play (If You Squint), Premature Ejaculation, Fluff And Smut, All The Papas Are Alive, First Person POV

I can't take Copia anywhere. It was supposed to be a nice, simple celebration dinner, to congratulate him on his success of joining the band. Who cares if he's not officially Papa just yet? It's still a momentous achievement for him, one he's been working for all his life, and I couldn't be prouder.

I've been with Copia since he first became a Cardinal, and I've known him for even longer. I know he's an intelligent, capable, hardworking man, someone with immeasurable patience and courtesy, a true gentleman; That is, until you get a few drinks in him.

It was Terzo who brought the wine. What I used to think was a kind gesture to show there was no ill-will between the two, turned out to be a revenge tactic to get Copia to embarrass himself in front of the whole Clergy. Copia smiled thankfully at him, and unable to resist, he poured himself a glass of wine. And then two. And then three.

Terzos smirk grew the more Copia drank, which only earned him a death glare from Sister Imperator, who saw through his whole schtick immediately. She'll surely have his head for this one. I unfortunately didn't notice, therefore couldn't stop Copia, until it was too late. We had to leave the dinner party early, Copia tripping, knocking things over, and making loud sexual remarks to me the whole time it took to drag him out. I could hear other members of the Clergy mumbling to Sister Imperator, asking if he was really the right man for the job.

"Oh, amore mio, you looked positively delicious tonight. I could barely keep my hands off you, topolino..." Copia purrs in my ear as I lay him down on the bed, wiping off his eye paints for him. I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, I know. You said that earlier, in a room full of upper Clergy members, remember?" I scoff sarcastically, my cheeks still glowing with embarrassment. He only smiles dazily, as if he didn't retain a single word I said. "Così bello, così bello..." He mutters to himself, running his fingers through my hair. How can I stay mad at him when he's this cute?

"Uh huh. Now sit up, I gotta get you undressed." I order gently, hoping he will make this easier for me, but honestly, when has he ever? He chuckles. "I like your way of thinking, amore. My pants are getting so tight, I need to be freed of them..." He winks, or at least I think he attempted to. He's so drunk he just ended up blinking really hard. I am not amused.

I look down at his lap, and lo and behold, hes telling the truth. His tight pants are constricting over his massive erection, and his lack of underwear makes it so I can see the outline in great detail. It twitches visibly, making me blush, but I do not give into temptation. He's drunk, after all. "Copia, you need to get some rest."

"How can I sleep when my cock is awake?" He slurs, nuzzling his face into my neck, nibbling gently, and turning his body to press his hard-on against my thigh. "Your Cardinal hurts, topolino. Won't you help him?" He rocks his hips, grinding his clothed cock against me, whimpering into the crook of my neck. I laugh softly at his act of desperation.

"The answer is no, my love. But you are more than welcome to take care of yourself." I hum softly, deciding getting him ready for bed can wait till he gotten all his sexual frustrations out. I expected him to sloppily yank off his pants and jerk himself off, but it seems he had other plans. He rocks his hips forward again, his eyes rolling back at the friction.

"Oh, so that's how you wanna do this, hm? You wanna hump my leg like a dog?" I snicker. He swears under his breath, his thrusts speeding up. I didn't know my words would have such an effect on him, but I'm certainly not complaining. I continue. "This is what you wanted? To act like a pathetic, drooling mutt, desperate for pleasure?" He lets out a choked whine one could almost mistake for a sob, and nods, too caught up in his frantic self-gratification to respond verbally.

His movements are feverishly swift, like he needs to use my body to survive, panting and growling like a rabid animal. His hands harshly grope whatever part of my body he can reach. He will no doubt be repeatedly apologizing later for the fingertip-shaped bruises littering my hips and stomach, no matter how much I tell him I don't mind. I hold back a giggle at the thought, not that he would notice if I did in his frenzied state.

He's barely been going at this for a few minutes, and already his thrusts are becoming weaker, his little whimpers and grunts become louder and more frequent, and his face contorts tightly. Before I even recognize the pattern, a long sigh escapes his lips, his expression relaxes, and his tight pants are now dampened, cumming in record-breaking time.

"Cazzo...! I- I would've lasted longer, if it wasn't for this... g- goddamn wine..." He hiccups, slurring his words sleepily, and ending his sentence with a loud snore, officially passed out. I laugh. "Let's get you cleaned up, Cardinal." I say, tugging off his pants, throwing them in the overflowing hamper. Copia can deal with that load (literally) in the morning.

Once I managed to wrestle all of the sweat-dampened clothes off of his limp body, I lay back in bed with him, exhaling deeply. The things I do for this man, I think to myself. It's all worth it though, when I feel his warmth against me. He lets out a little noise of content, his mustache twitching. He subconsciously pulls me closer, and as our bodies intertwine, I let his soft breathing lull me to sleep. I think I could love him forever.

-

[zombiequeenblog]

I often wonder about the first time Copia saw Mouse. How he perceived her and chose to be his. What was it about her, in a Ministry full of Sisters and Brothers who would willingly give themselves to him for passion and lust? Why her? What did she have that he wanted?

Thank you for your lovely ask! You've inspired me to write the following, and I hope you enjoy:

It's here on ao3 if you'd prefer...

The first time he saw her, he nearly didn’t. Merely a glimpse of a pale face framed by darker hair, disappearing with a faint step around a dim corner, quiet as a church mouse. In his many years coming and going from here, he had heard many tales of the abbey’s resident ghosts (primarily from Terzo), but never had he actually perceived anything among the cloistered halls. Well, of course not.. what utter nonsense!

The Cardinal was on his way to his own unwelcoming haunt. Walking briskly through older passageways lit only the more poorly as he went, he stalked his own solitude as usual. A long night of his own dark interests awaited him; thoughts he kept to himself, and deeds unwitnessed by any. He sought his own time and pleasure down here, alone and unbothered just as he preferred, and yet… the sound of that little scuttling step seemed to echo within his mind. It was odd.

The second time he came upon her slight form was as he walked by in a dim and musty hallway, almost stepping on her honestly as she was kneeling, his monk straps ultimately skirting by unconcerned. She didn’t even look up. Quietly, he ascended a staircase just above, where he could pause and observe in secret her little toiling. She was real, then, but who was this little creature?

Racking his brain for only a minute, he recalled Sister Imperator mentioning a recent hire. She wasn’t a new convert then, which was obvious from her lack of habit. No, she was dressed like some kind of a maid, rather inconveniently it seemed, by the way she idly pulled down the hem of her short skirt as she carefully shuffled along on her knees, apparently scrubbing the hall baseboards with great concentration. The Cardinal shook his head a little, Sister had an archaic passion for old-fashioned dress to match the institution. Not that he really objected, mind you… it gave him a certain dignity to don the gloves and such, a power he found much pleasure in. His gaze lingered, finding pleasure in this unsuspecting domestic as well. The sleeves of her button-down were rolled up to expose delicate wrists, her dainty ankles hidden from his gaze in knee-high stockings. The sight of her body, done up so primly yet left vulnerable in the trappings of troublesome clothes just to look pretty, did something to him.

The Cardinal was a quiet admirer of beauty, and she appeared to be beautiful in a quiet way. Solitary and sweet, far too young for him if he were being proper, but he was far from proper, wasn’t he? No one knew the terrible things which brewed darkly within him, had always brewed… stronger and stronger. He stared at her pert little ass for a moment, and wondered what her panties looked like; he could have seen if she wasn’t pressing her thighs together so tightly. Vexing little thing. 

Someone was coming down the hallway towards her, and the Cardinal slunk back into the shadows for some reason. His natural reaction annoyed him; why should he feel guilty standing in his own damn home, leering at the help? 

It was Papa Secondo, and Copia stayed unnoticed where he was. Secondo stopped beside her, watching grimly, and when she felt sufficiently self-conscious she sat back on her haunches, her fine hair almost tumbling out of its precarious knot. 

“Well hello, girl.”

“Oh! Your… um… Excellency! My… my apologies…” The dulcet tones of her voice matched the rest of her, and Copia strained his ears to hear more of it.

“Quite alright, dear,” said Secondo, “I can see you’re busy, but I thought I might suggest…” He cocked his bald head down towards the scrub-brush in her hands. “Push along the grain of the board, it’s easier on the caulking, you know…”

The girl looked down at her task for a moment, and nodded her head. “Yes. Yes, of course, Your Excellency… Th… thank you!” Copia felt his gloved fingers twitching, an urge to pull the ribbon out of her hair almost taking him over.

“You’re welcome, dear.” Secondo continued on his way down the hall, and the girl went back to her work, altering her technique. 

Copia rolled his eyes; the old man was simply being supercilious. Who gave a fuck how the baseboards were cleaned? He continued to watch the girl for a minute, and when she fancied herself alone again, he noticed her pointedly go back to her previous scrubbing motion. Copia felt a little grin wash over his face; she had some spirit inside her, apparently. He liked that. 

The Cardinal continued to watch her in silence, enjoying perhaps too much the sight of her on all fours, her skirt continuing to ride up to his dark appreciation. She worked so quietly, was so quiet, and he found himself wondering what it would be like to provoke her to noise… a sweet cry or scream. She looked like she had many screams inside her.

Suddenly, stopping her motion abruptly, the girl reeled back and stiffened, holding her hand up with a faint cry. “Damn it…” he heard her exclaim, softly. She squeezed the side of her palm with her other hand, rocking back and forth for a second, and he could see a thin trickle of blood running down her wrist, even in the dim light. Poor little thing, but she didn’t even cry! He wondered if he could make her cry. 

The girl let out a little moan, sweeter than he could have even hoped for, and the Cardinal felt something less sweet stirring deep inside him. For a moment, he felt an overwhelming urge to rush forward, and subject the girl to a further kind of violence he had never indulged in before. 

Restraining himself, he stayed in the shadows, and watched her kneel there, biting her sweet lip for a moment as she looked upwards into the dull hallway light, finally breathing out her pain with a little sigh he wished he could capture. She couldn’t see him, thankfully, couldn’t see how the Cardinal stiffened his body against the wall, another part of him stiffening in such a way that he knew he’d have to relieve promptly, by himself in private. He stared at her, imagining ways he could make her do it. Force her to take him. Copia bit his own lip; she was fairly vexing, wasn’t she? And entirely unaware of it. Perhaps that was a part of her quiet charm.

With the way his intense gaze was fixed upon her, perhaps it wasn’t so strange when she finally glanced behind her shoulder with a slight shiver. Did she believe in dark things lurking in the shadows? He thrilled to see her uneasiness, the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Eventually, she gathered her things and left, stealing quietly away down the darkened hall, a ghost herself, and the Cardinal didn’t trust himself to move until she had disappeared from his sight entirely. Now was not the time to pounce. But soon… by Satan, soon… He almost felt a kind of pity at what he knew he was going to do to her.

She continued to haunt him, and the first words he ever spoke to her were an apology.

[dearlymrme]

Wing!Fic Headcanons

Nihil: Canadian Goose. Geese are already sex fiends but mate for life when they find that one particular soulmate, so of course when he sees Imperator he’s smitten and imprints immediately. Happily flew overseas for her, with her beckoning finger, to lead the church. Fluffs up his feathers any time he sees her, even though he’s a little bare these days in his old age.

Primo: Harpy Eagle The most intimidating wingspan of the world. Big and scary, even though he truly is a sweet old man when you get to know him. Picked not only because of his bloodline but also because he struck a very good pose for the camera’s. As the frontman he was perfect for the front cover and to be the face of the church. They tend to get in the way a lot, it’s easy for him to knock things over, even though he was born with them and used to their size, there is almost no room for him wherever he goes besides his own room and the greenhouse, custom made and plants very carefully places so that he does not accidentally hurt them. Imagine being wrapped up in such a wingspan and cuddles. He loves to preen both you and himself. Expect his fingers through your own wings, (or your hair, if you are lacking feathers.) He has talons, thick and black and perfect for rending flesh, also good for raking through soil and believe me, he is as careful as handing the most delicate of flowers when it comes to you. Or, if you prefer, he doesn’t mind leaving a mark or two.

Secondo: Roseate Spoonbill Don’t ask me when I wanna dress this man in pink but he pulls off the color. The Church liked the idea of his pinkish white wings with its blood red shot through the center as a contradiction. Soft feathers that look to be bleeding when he flexes and stretches them right. A color that is the exact opposite of his mean and bitter personality. A lot of people fall for the ‘innocent and sweet color’. Honestly, he could be more Goose than Shoebill, a lot of his father shines through with his violent ways of mating. He is mean, he leaves marks even though his ‘talons’ are not long, they are sharp. Granted, every session is followed by the softest of aftercare. This man loves to nest, his bed is covered in the softest and fluffiest of sheets and blankets money can buy. You at the center of it all has him puffing up and ready to go. This nesting behavior he has though…perhaps he wants more than just to mate?

Terzo: Lucifer Hummingbird Perfect, absolutely perfect both in color and name. Iridescent wings that shine on stage as he puffs up and peacocks across the platform. He’s also high energy and has a craving for sweets in order to keep up that kind of positivity in his performance. You can always find him sipping on soda or even fruit juice to keep up his energy. When he doesn’t get that daily sugar intake he is as slow and ambles like the living dead. It’s like a switch being flipped to see the difference between him before and after his morning juice. A light sleeper too because of this, chronic insomnia. He likes gifting you with his own feathers, fashions them up like the crafty guy his in, in hairpins, necklaces, this is how he woo’s. You will be wearing his favors in any way he can manage to fashion them for you. His wings hum when he flies and he himself hums as a form of courtship. Soft songs, Cirice, of course, and the smoothest of lovesongs.

Copia: Blue Peacock He struts. It took him a while to get over his stage fright and start presenting for the crowd. Oftentimes in his start he wouldn’t be able to ‘perform’ as it were. His coloration is perfect match for his blue and black vestments and were a glorious contradiction to his red cassock back when he was a Cardinal. Nowadays he has no trouble being able to flex his tail feathers for when he needs to put on a show. He flies on stage in long plumed wings that make him appear more like a dragon than a harpy and it’s a perfect representation for the Lord. And yes, he does present for you, without fail, even though his feathers often knock things over inconveniently when he sees you. It’s a reflex, he can’t help it. Love to nuzzle you, loves to brood over you. Loves stuffing you in his chest and plumage and just bury his head in your hair and coo. But what he loves doing with you the most is dance. He loves slow dancing with you. Turns and spins and dips, that will have you most certainly swooning.

[iamthecomet]

CHALLENGE!!!! Based on a hc of mine. After Terzo, Secondo, and Primo died Copia didn't have anyone to talk to about the his decisions for the band. (because like hell was he going to talk to Nihil or Sister) so he turns to the oldest member Mountain for advice. They grew close and Mountain couldn't help but fall in love with his adorable Copia and vice versa

Ok, I've been saving this one for when I was feeling in the mood for writing sweet things. My brain wants fluff. So today's the day.

He doesn't know when it happened. When Copia stopped being a helpless fumbling man and turned into a real leader of the church. Mountain can't pinpoint the change in him. It's been slow. Confidence growing in him millimeter by millimeter. When Copia first called Mountain into his office he was distraught. Wearing a path on the hardwood floor as he paced in behind his desk. The light from the stained glassed window casting a kaleidoscope of colors over Copia's white suit. He was frazzled, hair a mess, eyes wide. He looked at Mountain and panic lacing his features. What do I do? Tell me what to do.

And Mountain did his best. He's the oldest ghoul at the Abbey, he's seen this happen over and over again. And everyone else had help, had a predecessor, and a father, to walk them through it. Copia had nothing. Mountain found himself in Copia's office most afternoons between lunch and dinner. Talking him through countless pages of paperwork. Putting a hand on the center of his back when Copia would dissolve into tears.

Mountain gave him something steady to cling to. And Mountain--Mountain fell. Mountain fell for Copia the same way he fell for Aether, for Dewdrop. Hard. All of a sudden. Like the floor tipping out from under him. He watches him rifle through papers, drag his hands through his hair, messing it up even though he has an important meeting later. And Mountain's heart hammers in his chest. He catches Copia looking at him sometimes, when Mountain is reading something to help him, or pretending to nap on the sofa. He sees the way Copia's face goes soft as soon as Mountain walks into the room. It makes something in his stomach clench. "Caro, are you listening?" Mountain's eyes jump to Copia's, he drags his hand over his face and tries to look at the paperwork Copia has just shoved in front of him. Copia's hand is right next to his, their pinky's just barely touching. "I'm sorry, Papa."

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm not Papa yet."

Mountain meets his eyes. "You will be, soon."

Copia's cheeks go a little pink. He's still uncomfortable with the whole idea. Even though it's been the plan since day one. He will lead the church. And he will be good at it. Mountain knows it.

Mountain puts his hand over Copia's and squeezes. "Mountain," Copia's voice has gone breathy. Mountain's stomach flips with butterflies. He can't remember the last time he felt butterflies--the last time he fell this completely. "Do you--I mean do ghoul's ever--with humans--I mean, would you--could you feel--"

Mountain shifts, leaning over the desk and catching Copia's lips on his before he can fumble any further into the question. He doesn't have the right words to answer. Everything he thinks of feels lacking. Paltry. Like the words don't exist in English--or Italian, for that matter. When Mountain pulls away, Copia puts a hand on the back of his neck to keep him close, Mountain tips his forehead against Copia's, mindful, as always, of the horns. "So you do, then?"

"Yes. I do."