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deakyjoe · 6 months ago

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Taste Your Lips Of Wine

Pairing: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia x Reader (fem, afab)

Category: smut, angst, fluff, friends to lovers

Summary: Copia needs help when being wine drunk creates a problem.

Warnings: 18+, smut, dry humping/grinding, pillow humping, explicit mentions of sex, horny Copia, horny reader, angst, loneliness, crying, Copia’s a bad friend (but makes up for it), Copia is also slightly perverted but knows it, friends to lovers, getting wine drunk, several mentions of erections, swearing/cursing, poorly translated Italian (topina = little mouse), let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 6k (it was going to be longer but I decided to split it into 2 parts)

A/N: We’re back with more dry humping with Copia! This was inspired by the knowledge that apparently he humps things when drunk (source: Tobias Forge somewhere I think). This will have a part 2 at some point but it’s not yet finished so don’t know when that will be. Enjoy!

Consider buying me a coffee :)

Being best friends with the leader of the clergy had its downfalls.

"What do you mean you're cancelling again?" You asked with a huff, hands planted firmly on your hips as you stared him down.

Copia shifted from foot to foot, knowing how much he was upsetting you. There was nothing he disliked more than upsetting you. But he didn't have a choice. "I'm sorry, I know. But I promise I'll make it up to you."

You turned away from him with a low groan, he'd made that promise the last three times. All you wanted was one night with him. One night to hang out together, catch each other up on the gossip of your lives over a bottle of wine. One night with your best friend. It wasn't much to ask for. And your empathy for the business of his situation only extended so far. "Fine, yeah."

"Topina..." He mumbled, taking a couple of hurried steps towards you.

Your eyes screwed shut at the use of the pet name, you knew he was only using it to soften you up. Copia had an unintentional manipulative streak to him, unaware of how easy it was for him to shape you and your thoughts. But you figured that was on you, and your unconditional affection for him.

Another downfall of being his best friend. He was easy to forgive.

Looking back over your shoulder at him, you plastered a smile on your face. "It's okay, really. I know you're busy. Just... we'll reschedule."

Again.

He watched you for a moment, mismatched eyes willing you to break and confess how truly saddened you were at the prospect of another lost evening with him. But you stayed strong. If Copia had to list a downfall of being friends with you, he'd say it was your unwillingness to tell him when you were disheartened over something he'd done. He could always sense it in you, he just didn't know why you refused to admit it.

So he nodded and looked on as you turned away from him again, pretending to busy yourself with something on the desk in front of you.

Before his own guilt could walk him out of the room, he forced himself towards you. Stopping just a mere couple of inches behind you, Copia watched as you tensed up at his presence before wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry, topina." He whispered in your ear. He knew the position was intimate, especially for outsiders who viewed the two of you as just friends, but you and Copia had never shied away from the more personal of actions. "I will cancel all future clergy meetings if it will make you happy"

You relaxed back against him, resting your palms over the tops of his gloved hands as you sighed. "All future clergy meetings? So not this one?"

Copia grumbled something under his breath. "Unfortunately not."

You could hear in his voice how unhappy he was with the situation as well, so you decided to push your own feelings aside. As you always did for him.

You turned in his grip and cupped his face in your palms. "Just let me know when you're next free and I'll be there with a bottle of wine and two glasses."

"No, I shall bring the wine. The least I can do for being such a bad friend." He frowned at you, trying to tally up in his head how many times he actually had cancelled on you recently. The numbers weren't looking good.

You shook your head. "You're not a bad friend. You are, however, a good Papa."

He averted his gaze out of embarrassment, tips of his ears burning pink. "I can be both at once."

You thought that over. It was true, and the angry part of you wanted to agree. He was being a bad friend by cancelling so often after promising you just a fraction of his time. But the other part of you, the part that adored him more than anything, and regretfully the part that ruled the majority of you, wouldn't allow such a thing to slip past your lips. "Don't be foolish, Copia."

His eyes flashed back to yours.

"You are a good friend. The best friend I could ask for." You placed a quick kiss on his cheek before waving your hands at him in a dismissive motion. "Now go. You have important Papa things to be getting to, I'm sure."

He watched you again for another moment, silently begging for you to just confess that you were frustrated with him. But you stayed quiet. So he leaned forward, left a lingering kiss on your forehead, and then left the room, and you, as he went to deal with whatever had caused him to cancel in the first place.

You collapsed into the closest chair and held the tears back, no matter how much they stung your eyes or made the back of your throat ache. You wouldn't allow them to fall. You wouldn't cry again over your best friend abandoning you for another evening. You wouldn’t…

Staring at the clock, you debated the best way to spend your suddenly free evening as the first tear cascaded down your cheek.

That was another downfall of being best friends with the leader of the clergy. It left you rather lonely.

Copia couldn't believe his luck when only an hour later he was being informed that the meeting, the one he'd broken his best friend's heart in favour of, had been cancelled. Sister Imperator had come down with some sort of illness. She was sort of integral to the whole thing which meant proceedings couldn't go forward without her.

Attempting not to jump for joy at the news of her being sick, Copia raced down to the cellars where he knew the good wine was kept. He could only hope that you were still in your office where he'd left you earlier, as this was his opportunity to make up to you all those lost nights. And what better way to start than grabbing two bottles of wine rather than the usual singular one.

As he hurried towards where he hoped to find you, he debated what way was best to inform you that he was now free. He didn't want you to think that you were second choice, that he was only there because the clergy meeting had been cancelled. Whilst it was partly true, you were always first in his head, and his heart, but he often didn't have much choice when it came to splitting his time. He had to attend official clergy business. Which meant you were granted only spare moments. Copia knew it was unfair and he wanted to change it. But how?

He felt over the moon when he saw that the light in your office was still on. You hadn't decided to spend your evening elsewhere.

All thoughts escaped him, however, when he burst through your office door with a smile, the two bottles of wine raised high in his hands, and found you crying.

Everything dropped. His smile, his hands to his sides, and his heart.

Your tear filled eyes shot towards him, sleeve of your shirt hurriedly wiping away all evidence of sadness, as you straightened up in your chair and tried to school your features into a more neutral expression. It didn't work, you knew he'd caught you.

The door was closed softly behind him before Copia rushed towards you, bottles of wine abandoned on your coffee table. "Topina, what's wrong?"

You looked away from him as he crouched in front of you, his efforts to get you to meet his gaze ignored. "Nothing, I'm fine."

Despite not thinking it possible, Copia's heart sank even more. He was the reason you were crying. Never before had he despised himself so much. "Please don’t lie to me."

"I'm not." You sniffled, hating how your voice cracked slightly. It wasn't helping your case. "I just- really, I'm fine."

"It's me who's made you cry." He said it as a statement more than a question and, when you said nothing to disagree with him, he knew he was right. "I wish you would tell me when I upset you. I can always tell but you're so reluctant to just say so."

"Because I know that it's stupid of me to be upset." You huffed, tugging on the sleeves of your shirt.

Copia's gloved hands grabbed yours to stop you from fidgeting. "Why is it stupid?"

You hesitated before answering, looking down at him crouched in front of you. It probably wasn't doing his knees any favours. You wondered how long he'd be able to hold the position for. "You're Papa now and you have important things to be doing, like running this place and spreading our message or whatever."

He held back a laugh at the use of 'or whatever' and said nothing to allow you to keep talking.

"But I-" You cut yourself off with a frown. "I want you to..."

A frown settled over Copia's face too as you trailed off. "What? What do you want?"

"I want you to make time for me. Selfishly." Your teeth clicked shut as the confession spilled. No turning back now. "I'm lonely and I miss you."

It was nothing he hadn't already guessed but hearing you say it out loud was a whole different matter. The guilt of it that had been slowly eating away at him since his promotion to Papa, that had dragged him away from you on too many occasions, solidified itself.

"Topina-"

You cut him off. "And I hate feeling like I'm being scheduled in. I want you to spend time with me because you want to. Not because you feel you have to. And not because you have a spare hour or two with nothing else to occupy you."

His heart shattered. "That's what you think this is?"

How had he managed to turn years of friendship, years of undying devotion to one another, into something that you thought was an obligation for him?

You shrugged and looked away from him. "When was the last time we spent any spontaneous time together? Everything is precisely coordinated to fit into your Papal duties."

His nostrils flared with his own effort to restrain tears. "Topina, there is nothing in this world I treasure more than you and our friendship. All that I do now as Papa is because I have to. You have always been a want. I want to make time for you. I want to spend time with you. You understand?"

You nodded slowly but he could see you weren't quite buying it.

"I know things are different now that I'm no longer just a Cardinal but please don't ever think for a second that I value you any less than I used to. Maybe I even value you more now for managing to put up with my ridiculous schedule, hehe." Copia chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood, stomach flipping when you let the smallest smile break out. "I'm sorry for how I've been treating you. It makes my chest ache to see you like this and to know I'm the cause of it."

He couldn't quite remember the last time he'd seen you cry. It wasn't a common thing, that was for sure.

"I will do everything in my power to make it up to you. Starting with-" He pointed over his shoulder with a thumb. "-two bottles of wine for tonight."

Your eyes widened briefly. You hadn't had time to wonder why he was back in your office after leaving only an hour previously. "Tonight? But I thought you-"

He cut you off with a wave of his hand. "Cancelled. I was so relieved when I found out because it meant I got to come back and spend the evening with you."

"Really?"

"Sì!" He stood up, groaning when his knees made a concerning sound. "Come on, let's begin the night officially. I want to hear everything you've been needing to tell me."

You took his hand with a smile and followed him over to your couch where the two of you sat side by side, your legs thrown over his as you always did. Glasses of wine were poured and all previous upset was forgotten.

You informed him of all the latest Siblings of Sin gossip, Copia let you in on a few clergy secrets. Laughs were exchanged, bottles of wine were drained, a pleasant buzz settled over you both, and the two of you somehow got impossibly closer as the night progressed. It wasn't uncommon for the two of you to be practically cuddling by the end of a long evening so when his arm landed around your shoulders and started tracing patterns up and down the length of your arm you thought nothing of it.

Copia didn't either until you adjusted the positioning of your legs over his and brushed against his crotch with one of your thighs. His breath hitched as all blood rushed straight to his dick. It was a reminder of why he usually limited his wine intake to a single shared bottle with you. It made him horny.

He desperately tried to focus on what you were saying as he hardened in his pants, begging the universe that you wouldn't notice. It didn't help that you were so close to him, when did you get so close, and that his hand was still moving gently over your arm and shoulder.

Firmly trying to remind himself that you were his best friend and that the proximity shouldn't have been making his cock twitch, he reached for a spare cushion and subtly tried to place it over his lap. It worked as you didn't pay any attention and carried on with your story.

Reminder: never bring two bottles of wine to an evening spent with you again.

Convinced he was now in the safe zone, Copia let his head rest against the back of the couch with his face turned towards you so you knew you still had his focus. What he didn't expect was for you to match the position. But instead rest your face against his arm, cheek pressed against his bicep. It also affected the way you were looking at him, eyes angled up to see through your lashes. He felt himself get harder.

Best friend, best friend, best friend.

The thought ran through his head screaming like a headless chicken. Could headless chickens scream? It didn't matter. What did matter was that being wine drunk apparently compelled him to think about what you'd feel like sat on his cock, clenching around his length, the noises you'd make-

His legs jolted up, jostling yours, as he twitched underneath the cushion.

Your head shot up, a look of worry crossing your face. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Oh, hehe, I'm fine." Copia replied through a tight jaw. He was a bad, bad man. "Just tired, I think."

You glanced towards the clock in the corner of the room by your desk. "It is getting late. Maybe we should head to bed."

"Good idea." He nodded enthusiastically, desperate to get away from you and distance his thoughts to something more appropriate. He shouldn't be thinking about fucking you. You were his best friend, his closest confidant. Why was he thinking about fucking you?

Damn wine.

"I've had a good time tonight." You smiled as you stood up from the couch. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you how I was feeling before."

"Me too, topina. And I swear, from now on, you are always my top priority." He shifted slightly, wondering how he was supposed to stand up without you noticing the raging hard on he was sporting.

Your smile softened. "You gonna sit there all night or...?"

"Right, yes." He hesitated before standing up, hands rushing to cover his crotch as he did so, stumbling a little in the sudden movement.

"Woah." You reached out to steady him, a giggle escaping you. "You should handle your wine better than this. You're Italian."

"I handle my wine just fine." He bit back playfully, ignoring the way your hands were grasping onto him and how it had his head swimming. "It's just been a long day."

"Mhm, okay." You nodded, unconvinced. "Come on, I'll walk you back to your room."

"That's not necessary." He said but followed you anyway. He couldn't understand why he was suddenly so sexually drawn to you. It couldn't just be the wine, right? It made him unbelievably horny, sure, but to this extent? And to his best friend no less?

You didn't reply as you started the route back to his dwellings, arm looped through his in an attempt to keep him upright.

Copia watched you out of the corner of his eye the whole way there, wondering when this primal attraction to you had started. It couldn't possibly have only begun that night, so strongly. He thought back on it. He'd never found you unattractive but, for some reason, your relationship had never taken that course. You'd been fast friends and that's the way it always had been. Why was the only thought on his mind now the idea of fucking your brains out?

Must be the wine. Definitely the wine.

Right?

All he knew for sure was that he couldn't wait to get back to his room so he could jerk the unclean thoughts of you away. His mind strayed to the concept of humping a pillow like a dog in heat. It seemed rather appealing, he'd always been a fan of dry humping. He wondered what it'd be like with you-

Stop.

Your voice knocked Copia out of his thoughts as you reached his door. "Do you need me to tuck you into bed or are you good now?"

He should have said he was good. He should have said goodnight. He should not have entertained the idea of you in his room when he was in this state. He should-

"Well, if you're offering." He grinned down at you, hoping to play it off as a joke.

You rolled your eyes at him as you opened his door, a smile tugging on the corners of your mouth. "Okay. Come on, Papa."

He bit down on his tongue at the use of his title. As often as you acknowledged his Papacy, you never directly referred to him as Papa. He'd always just been Copia to you. He liked it that way. His promotion hadn't changed the way you viewed him. But he couldn't deny the feelings that the use of Papa had stirred deep in his abdomen.

You guided Copia into his bedroom and left him to lean against one of the corners of his four poster bed as you started removing all of the decorative pillows from the surface of it.

"How many of these things does one guy need?" You snorted as you plucked another one with a lace trim and discarded it to the other side of the room.

Copia only watched on silently, the heat in his gaze increasing with every passing second. He wanted so desperately to banish the thoughts he was having. But how was he supposed to when you bent over his bed like that and gave him the perfect view of your ass? And why had you chosen to wear those jeans today?

He knew he couldn't have you, couldn't even bring up the subject with you. But what would one night with you be like? Just to get it out of his system. He was sure it was the wine doing all the decision making in his body so one night would surely cure him of all impure thoughts of you. Right?

He snapped out of it when you turned to look at him again, a wide smile brightening your face. It was a big turnaround from the way you'd been looking at him before with tears in your eyes. How bad of a friend was he to be thinking about you like this when only a few hours earlier he'd been making you cry.

"Need your pyjamas or are you too drunk to get changed?" You asked, eyes looking him up and down.

Copia froze when your eyes lingered on his crotch for a second too long. When had his hands stopped covering himself?

But you said nothing, only awaited an answer to your question.

"Not drunk." He mumbled and pushed himself off the pillar towards you. "But I'm fine. Thank you for walking me back. You can go to your own bed now."

Your breathing quickened as he stood only a foot or two in front of you. A dilemma had hit you. You always hugged goodnight. But how were you supposed to do that with the boner he was rocking. Were you even supposed to address it? But he was looking at you so expectantly. Did he even know what his body was doing? Or was he really that drunk?

So you just decided to bite the bullet and extended your arms out to him. Copia let out a visible sigh of relief, that you weren't repulsed by what his body was doing and running a mile away, as he collapsed into your embrace. His face got buried in your neck as his arms wound around your waist. You didn't fail to notice how he kept his pelvis angled slightly away from you. So he was aware.

You continued not to say anything on the matter as you did your usual hug routine of one arm around his shoulders and the other lifted so you could card your fingers through his hair.

Turns out, that was a big mistake.

Copia couldn't help himself. The sensation of your hand stroking through his greying locks and your nails scratching lightly at his scalp had his body going haywire. And you smelt so good. He had no control as his hips bucked forward into yours and a low whine rumbled from his throat.

The two of you froze instantly, bodies going rigid in each other's arms.

You didn't know what to do, mouth hanging open as all possible words escaped you. What you did know was that a twinge of something you'd never felt for him before had rocketed straight through you.

Copia was panicking, he was convinced he would be able to keep his sudden urges to himself. But all it had taken was a measly hug. So he resorted to what he'd been doing all evening. Apologising.

"Shit, I'm sorry. The wine, it makes me-" He paused as he didn't know what word to use.

But you came to his rescue.

"It's okay." You whispered, sliding your arms down and away from him. "You don't need to explain. Alcohol and bodily reactions and all that. It's good."

He pulled away from you and sat on the edge of his bed, sliding a gloved hand down his face. The leather came away marked black and white from his paints. He was beyond caring. "I'm still sorry, topina. It was inappropriate of me. Accept my apologies and promise me we'll never talk of it again."

"Talk of what?" You asked with a half smile, flattening the top of his hair. "Get some sleep. You could probably use it. Sleep off the wine. Goodnight, Copia."

"Goodnight." He huffed in reply, watching carefully as you exited his room and shut the door tightly behind you. He waited only a couple more seconds before grabbing the nearest pillow.

You, on the other hand, stood confused on the other side of his door for a moment. What had just happened? Copia was hard. In front of you. He'd rutted said hard on against you. Albeit briefly but still...

And you hadn't been entirely opposed to it.

You shook off the thought and started to make your way back to your room. However, you didn't get very far when you were stopped in your tracks by a dull thud and the sound of your best friend shrieking.

Instantly, you turned on your heel and practically ran straight back to his room. You were shocked to find, once you'd opened his door again, him sprawled on the floor and desperately grinding against a pillow.

"Oh." You breathed out, unable to move. It was like someone had glued your feet to the carpet. And fixed your eyes in place so you could only stare at him. "I heard you fall and I- I'm sorry."

That caught his attention as he suddenly stopped moving and tilted his head back to look at you. "Topina!"

"I shouldn't- shouldn't-"

Shouldn't what? You didn't know.

Copia looked at you with panic in his eyes as he stood up again. When had he fallen on the floor? "I'm fine. Sorry you had to see that."

Sorry?

"You don't need to be sorry." The twinge of something you'd felt before had returned. This time a lot stronger. And suddenly all rational thought was leaving you. "Do you want some help?"

It felt like his world suddenly crashed down around him. And all that was left was you.

Help? You couldn't possibly mean...

You saw the disbelief in his eyes so decided to clarify. "I'm suggesting we dry hump like horny teenagers, Copia."

Correction: you were his world.

What friend would suggest such a thing? You, apparently.

"You want to do that?" He asked hoarsely.

"Unless you're finding the pillow satisfactory." You glanced towards the rumpled item in question, still on the floor.

"No. I would much rather prefer a warm body."

"My warm body?" You questioned with a slightly teasing tone. "You seemed to like it a couple of minutes ago."

He felt himself blush at the reminder. "If you're offering."

The statement reflected one he'd said not long ago, when you'd suggested tucking him into bed. He couldn't believe how the night had turned out.

"Sit against your headboard." You instructed, shutting his door behind you and locking it for your own peace of mind. You highly doubted anyone was about to waltz into his bedroom at this hour but you'd rather not risk it. You didn't need anyone catching what you were about to do.

Copia didn't need to be told twice, practically jumping onto his bed and getting into position. He could feel himself burning with desire for you. A desire that was about to be fulfilled.

You took a deep breath as you looked at him, so eagerly waiting, before making your way over to him. "This is a one time thing. We don't speak about it again. Okay?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "Okay."

You paused at his bedside for a moment, wondering whether he'd considered this before judging on his reaction to the scenario, then crawled onto the bed and towards him. You kicked off your shoes and settled into a kneeling position next to him.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" You asked, needing to make sure he was certain of the decision.

"Sì, are you?" He eyed you hungrily and impatiently.

The look in his eyes sent a burning sensation straight to the base of your belly. "I'm sure."

You scooted closer to him, accepting an outstretched hand to balance yourself as you swung one of your legs over him and settled yourself down onto his lap. He was rock hard beneath you.

Copia hissed as you settled your weight against him, hands flying to your waist to steady you. "This may not last as long as you think, topina."

"Pity, I expected a man of your age to not be a two pump chump." You smirked and shifted yourself minutely, revelling in the groan he let out. "Are you always like this when you're horny or is it the wine?"

He licked his bottom lip as he stalled his answer. "I can be... desperate and needy. The wine is making it worse, I think. Should stick to one bottle in future."

Your mind whirled at the thought of him being desperate and needy. You wondered if you could get him in that state tonight. "Need you to guide me to what feels good. Not sure how you want me."

Copia wanted you in all kinds of ways. He didn't say that aloud though. "I assure you anything you do will feel good. I am focusing right now on not coming with you just sat on top of me."

"Oh." Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "The wine really got you wound up, didn't it?"

"The wine, yes." He replied as his hands slid down to your hips, tugging you to rock against him. The friction of that one simple movement caused his mouth to drop open in pleasure. He really wasn't lasting long tonight.

You watched in amusement as his eyes screwed shut when you did it again of your own accord. Shifting slightly, you tried to find a good angle for you. As fun as it was to watch him enjoy himself, you couldn't help but notice that not a whole lot was happening for you. You were sure if you moved your hips just right you'd find the seam in your jeans and you'd reach ecstasy as you ground yourself against him.

"Topina, slow down. Fuck." Copia's hands gripped your hips tightly to stop you from moving.

You hadn't realised that in all your searching for your own pleasure, you'd been giving him his. "Shit, sorry. Just trying to find a good position."

He frowned. "Is this not good for you?"

You shrugged. "Jeans are making it difficult to feel much. They're pretty thick."

His hands ran up and down your denim clad thighs, squeezing softly at the flesh beneath his finger tips, as he pondered something. "Take them off."

"Copia, I-" You cut yourself off when you noticed the way his eyes were trained on the movements of his hands over your thighs. "Do you want me to take them off?"

He glanced up at you. "I want you to do whatever is going to make you feel good as well."

"I'm doing this to help you." You croaked, not even believing it yourself anymore.

He shook his head. "Not helpful unless you enjoy yourself too."

That was all it took to have you rolling away from him and kicking your jeans off of your legs as quickly as possible and then settling yourself back over him, this time with only your underwear left in the way.

Copia's hands returned to your thighs, squeezing the bare skin now instead. "Try now."

So you did.

"Fuck me." You gasped, hands flying to grip his shoulders. You hadn't anticipated the texture of his pants, the fancy lace up and stylish wear and tear, and what that would feel like. It was like they were built for this.

"Feels better now." He beamed at you, not needing a confirmation of any sort since the way your face had scrunched up was proof enough.

"You can never wear these around me again now." You grumbled, gesturing at his pants. "Will make me horny."

"Is that such a bad thing?" He teased, snaking an arm around your waist to guide your movements. "Only if you promise not to wear those jeans around me."

You looked at him questioningly.

"Make your ass look good." He grunted, rocking your hips against his even harder.

"You were looking at my ass?"

"Guilty." A choked groan escaped his mouth. "It is not a regular thing, I assure you."

The retort you had planned died on your lips and was replaced by a strangled cry as he bucked up underneath you. You buried your face against his shoulder with a whimper of his name. "Copia."

His eyes rolled back at the sound of his name sounding like that coming from your mouth. "I know, topina, I know. Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Un-fucking-believable." You sighed, picking up the pace of your rolling hips.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, depraved noises escaping you both as your bodies moved in rhythm with each other.

Copia's arm was locked around you, the other firm on one of your thighs, squeezing occasionally. He could feel himself edging dangerously close to release. But he wanted you to come first. "Need you to come for me, topina. What's going to get you there, hm?"

Your head turned so your face was against his neck as you whined. "Talk to- fuck- talk to me."

"And what would you like me so say? How you feel so perfect rubbing yourself against me right now? That you're my perfect topina?" He chuckled when you mewled. "Oh, you liked that."

"Fuck." You gasped. "Yes, yes."

The grinding of your hips became desperate, almost feral, as you neared closer to your orgasm quicker than you ever had done before.

"Was it being called perfect? Or being called mine?" Copia mused, having to pause his thoughts for a second as he could feel himself practically throbbing beneath you. "Fuck, you really are perfect at this."

The way he said it, the tone of his voice, the breathlessness of it, had you toppling over the edge. Your pelvis bucked a few more times, chasing the high, as your mouth formed around a silent scream against the skin of his neck.

Copia took that as his queue to let loose, wildly rutting up underneath you for a minute before his own orgasm hit. He couldn't even find it in himself to regret the mess he'd made in his pants. It was worth it.

He instantly relaxed beneath you, accepting the full weight of your body as the afterglow had left you in a state of not being able to hold yourself up anymore. Copia's gloved fingers danced up and down the length of your back, soothing you.

When you finally sat up again, hands planted firmly on his chest to support yourself, you looked content. Copia was glad you weren't suddenly freaking out.

"Thanks for the orgasm, buddy." You patted him gently on the chest before standing up onto shaky legs.

Copia chuckled. Buddy? "I should be thanking you. I was sentenced to a night with my pillow until you offered to help."

"It was mutually beneficial." You assured him as you tugged your jeans up your legs. "Now we just never speak of it again."

"Sì, sì." Copia knew he was going to have trouble with that. "You can stay the night if you want."

You glanced at him. "We've already crossed one line tonight. Let's not cross any others."

He didn't point out how you'd shared a bed before and it hadn't meant anything. But he didn't want to push you. "If you're sure."

"I am." Slipping your shoes back onto your feet, you looked at him. "You should definitely get some rest now."

"I will, topina." He replied softly.

You straightened up and placed your hands on your hips. "Well, I'm done here so... see you around."

Copia shook his head with a laugh and corrected you. "See you tomorrow."

"Really?" You looked hopeful.

"Sì. I was being sincere when I said you are my priority. I will make more time for you, I promise." He moved to the edge of his bed and beckoned you over. When you approached him he cupped your chin in a gloved hand. "My topina, bestest friend in the world."

You giggled at his phrasing. "I can accept that title."

Of being the bestest friend in the world? Or of being his?

"Goodnight, Copia." You planted a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth.

It caught him off guard. But not in an unpleasant way. In fact, he found he rather liked it. "Goodnight."

He watched on fondly as you slipped out of his room and disappeared into the night. Collapsing backwards onto his bed, Copia wondered how he was going to manage never mentioning tonight to you again.

A/N: Second Copia dry humping fic. Apologies for the slight repeat but I think about it a lot when it comes to him…

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ramblingoak · 8 months ago

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A Nap With Terzo

~ A special edition of Naps With Copia ~

This was for an Anon that was having a tough time with their finals and wanted a comforting nap with Terzo 💙 (sorry this took forever!)

Terzo x gn!reader

The naps are all stand alone stories so you do not have to read one before the other! This series came from my post about wanting to nap with Copia all around the abbey. The stories will all have gender neutral readers and soft naps.

Warnings: none, just Terzo being a little silly, sfw, 800 words (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!)

No one else got to see him like this.

Well, maybe his ghouls did. Spending months together packed into a tour bus allowed you to see the best and worst of everyone. You had heard plenty of stories of the things the band and crew would get up to. To be honest some stories you wished you could forget. Although knowing why Alpha was strongly discouraged from coming back to Albuquerque, New Mexico did give you good blackmail material.

Moments like this though were something rare to see. The Siblings were used to Papa Emeritus III and his ways. They had spent years watching him on stage and at the pulpit. Both were performances for your Papa. Both showed a side of him that he had spent years honing to perfection. The boisterous and carefree Papa that was quick to tease and even quicker to flirt. But right now, tucked away in your bed and softly snoring…

This was your Papa.

“I need to get up soon.”

“Hush. You need rest, Terzo.”

“Eh, I’m fine.” His body betrayed him, his jaw immediately opening in a wide yawn. When he caught your smirk he huffed, rolling his eyes as he turned the other way. “Imperator will be looking for me. So she can nitpick how each ritual went.”

“Don’t worry about her.” Terzo turned his head, his eyebrow raised in question as he peered at you. “She has her hands full.”

“Oh?” You laughed when he quickly spun around, his arms snaking around your waist to bring you in close. “Do tell, amore.”

“Your brothers promised to keep her attention until the morning.”

“Sounds ominous.”

He ducked his head, hiding his face in your neck. Terzo always got shy when his brothers helped him. Like the notion of a family acting like family was still foreign to him. You dropped a kiss onto his head and gently started carding your fingers through his hair.

“Secondo assured me no one would get hurt.”

“Bene.” He pressed a few kisses of his own into your skin before pulling away, a soft smile on his face. “What shall we do with all that time, hmm?”

His attempt at wiggling his eyebrows failed as he started yawning again. He groaned when he was done, flinging himself onto his back and throwing an arm over his eyes.

“I think a nap is the only thing you need to focus on right now.”

“But amore, that’s so boring!” You obliged him when he tugged you close. “I’d rather be kissing you.”

“We can kiss after a nap.”

“We can kiss before one too.”

He leaned in and planted a noisy smooch on your cheek, his lips then traveling down to your chin and over to your ear. When his teeth gently nibbled at the lobe you squealed and tried to move away but his arms remained tight around you.

“Terzo! Stop, stop!” The bastard just laughed, continuing to attack you with his lips and teeth. “Ah! Papa, I will call Imperator, I swear to Satan.”

With a huff he pulled away, although he kept his arms tight around you. When you noticed his pout you couldn’t help but giggle and lean in to kiss him. The man was infuriatingly irresistible even when he was driving you crazy.

“Fine, fine. Ruin my fun.” The pouting continued, even when you kissed him again. “Here I am, thinking you would have missed me after all these months. Missed my touch and my kisses. I guess I was wrong.”

“Don’t be such a baby!” You nipped at his full bottom lip this time, pulling it between your teeth to sooth it with your tongue briefly before leaning away. “Terzo, I promise that if you are very very good and take a nice long nap we can have some fun after. Okay?”

His face brightened and he snuggled closer, his hands traveling up and down your back possessively.

“You promise, amore?”

“I promise.”

His bright smile was beautiful, as was everything else about him. You had to kiss him again, a soft one that you reserved for quiet moments like this. He pulled away, still smiling, and reached up to cup your cheek.

“Then we better get started, eh? The sooner we wake up the sooner we can have some of that fun you’ve promised me.”

You snorted while you settled yourself more comfortably against him. Resting your head on his shoulder and one hand on his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath it, a reminder that he was here with you again. Terzo’s breathing was evening out and you soon heard the soft snores he insisted he never did. You closed your eyes and focused on falling asleep yourself, wanting to get some rest along with your Papa.

You wanted the fun to start soon too.

~ Naps With Copia series masterpost ~

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

#terzo x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #terzo fanfiction #terzo #oakie's writing

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bupia · 1 year ago

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Treasure hunt: Papa Emeritus IV x AFAB!Reader

Summary: It's Christmas, and Copia won't be returning home this evening. However, he thoughtfully left you a note. What surprises might it hold?

Words: 10.152

Warnings: The Italian nicknames used by Copia has no gender, however the reader is AFAB | Smut (Copia is slightly dom; teasing; dirty talk; cunnilingus; fingering; unprotected sex; p in v; breeding) | Swearing | Italian swearing

Available on AO3

Primo (ao3) | Secondo (ao3) | Terzo (ao3)

Author's note: This is the Last day of the series XXXMAS AT THE MINISTRY, a Collaboration with @copias-sewer-rat @ghulehunknown and @molly-ghuleh, read their works too. I wanted to let you know that I'll be taking a short break after the Holidays as I'm currently engrossed in a work project. Don't worry, I'll be back soon. Wishing you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

"What do you mean you're not coming?" you questioned with disappointment and confusion, pacing back and forth in your room.

"Amore," Copia sighed from the other end of the line. "Per favore, mi dispiace."

"But everyone's already here," you pointed out, worry evident in your voice. "Copia, you said..."

"I know," he responded. "And it kills me that I'm stuck here for reasons even I can't understand. They don't even need me anymore."

"What have you been doing there?"

"Nothing. The clergy insists the Papa Emeritus stays and observes some proceeds for the upcoming New Year's Eve ritual until it's all done, so I watch and do nothing more," he expressed his frustration, and you could almost hear him running a hand through his hair. "I just want to see you; I miss you so much."

"I miss you too. A lot..."

"I miss you immensely, amore mio," Copia confessed with a melancholic tone. "I miss your kisses, your smile, your laughter, your touch, your body..." The last word lingered, emphasized as if he were savoring the memory. "I even miss your beautiful nose."

"My nose?" you chuckled, sitting down on the edge of your bed. "What does that even mean?"

"I don't know! I just know that you are perf—" His words were abruptly cut off, and he fell silent. "Amore, I need to go now. I wish I could talk to you a little longer. I really missed your voice throughout the day."

"I missed yours too," you admitted, a tinge of longing in your tone. "What should I do now if you won't make it for dinner?"

"Amore mio," he said with a gentle tone. "There's just one thing that can be done now; you will enjoy the Christmas dinner you put so much effort into." he sighed, frustration evident.

"Ok..." you replied with a touch of sadness in your voice. "But promise me you'll be here tomorrow."

"I promise," he assured, "I'll make it up to you, amore mio. Ti amo così tanto."

"I love you too," you whispered

And then, he ended the call with a series of soft kissing sounds, a distant echo of the warmth you longed for. You sighed, holding the phone away from your ear, absorbing his kisses that felt both comforting and painfully distant. Copia hadn't been this occupied in a long time, and it was Christmas Eve of all days. Both of you had anticipated his return for the holidays, expecting him to be at home with you.

Frustration bubbled up within you as you glanced around the room. Helplessness settled in, and there was nothing you could do but yearn for Copia's presence. Rising from the bed, you adjusted your clothes, took a deep breath, and walked purposefully to the bedroom door.

With a gentle push, you opened the door, ensuring it closed quietly behind you. The echoes of your footsteps resonated as you retraced your path back to the dining room of the Papal Apartment. As you moved through the rooms, you couldn't help but appreciate the festive decor. At least he had taken the time to help you decorate.

"So?" Terzo inquired as you reentered the dining room, slipping his phone back into his blazer pocket.

"He won't make it," you revealed, a touch of melancholy lingering in your voice, veiled by a faint attempt at a smile.

"What do you mean he won't make it?" Secondo asked, topping off his wine. "What's going on?"

"He mentioned the clergy is keeping him there," you explained.

Terzo grumbled, "Gruppo di vecchi, rabbiosi idioti. What now? Why can't they let him have a break?"

"I..." you sighed, moving toward the table. "I don't know."

"It's still Christmas," Primo chimed in. "I believe Copia would want us to celebrate together. We can still have our dinner."

Terzo rolled his eyes dramatically. "Well, it wouldn't be a proper holiday without the clergy complicating things, sì?"

Secondo, his annoyance palpable, grumbled, "This is ridiculous. What are we supposed to do without him? It's Christmas Eve!"

Primo, chimed in once again, with a gentle smile. "We can still make it special. Copia would want us to enjoy the evening together."

You nodded. "Yeah, you're right."

"So, what's the plan now?" Terzo quipped, his tone laden with sarcasm as he eyed the table. "Shall we stage a satanic reenactment of the Last Supper without our fratello?"

Secondo grunted, clearly irritated. "Stai zitto, Terzo. But he is right, Christmas dinner without him? Doesn't feels right."

"I agree with Primo. I doubt he'd want us to do not enjoy the dinner while he's stuck there," you murmured, your sadness bubbling to the surface.

Terzo smirked, pouring himself another glass of wine, "Maybe we can send him a virtual plate. I'm sure the clergy wouldn't mind that."

"Terzo..." Primo sighed, rolling his eyes in Terzo's direction. "We can, at the very least, set aside some leftovers for him," he suggested. "A Christmas meal will be waiting for him when he finally returns."

You managed a weak smile. "I just wish he could be here."

Terzo sighed, looking at you. He made his way to your direction and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Guess those unholier-than-thou vecchi need him to bless their turkey with a side of devilish charm or something."

Your gaze shifted to Terzo, and a laugh escaped you. He responded with a warm smile, exchanging the hand on your shoulder for a gentle touch on your face.

"Thank you," you said, with gratitude.

Terzo nodded appreciatively and turned away, taking his place at the table. "Can't let this food go to waste, can we? Mangiamo, sto morendo di fame."

With that, the four of you took your seats at the table. Though the absence of Copia cast a shadow over the celebration, the presence of Primo, Secondo and Terzo, eased the melancholy. After all, they had all made their way to the Ministry for this special occasion, and you felt a sense of responsibility not to let the festive spirit dwindle.

Secondo, in particular, had regaled the gathering with stories of meticulously crafting a turkey recipe he discovered in some book. Meanwhile, Terzo, had taken charge of the wine selection, claiming he didn't trust his brothers to make the right choices. Primo, had taken it upon himself to prepare cranberry sauce for the occasion. He proudly revealed that he had been cultivating cranberries in his house throughout the year, patiently waiting for this moment.

The four of you began serving yourselves. However, each time you glanced to your side, the empty seat served as a poignant reminder of Copia's absence. The realization that he wouldn't be home, sharing in the Christmas dinner, weighed heavily on your heart. The inexplicable demands of the clergy, only made it challenging to fully embrace the joy of the occasion.

However, your melancholic thoughts were momentarily interrupted when Secondo extended his arm towards you, pointing to the cranberry sauce placed in front of you. You looked at his hand and took the bowl, passing it to Secondo with a warm smile on your lips.

Primo began, leaning back in his seat. "It's good to have the family reunited. We haven't seen each other that much," he remarked, lifting his glass of wine for a sip. "Especially now that we're not tied up at the Ministry."

"Vero," Secondo agreed, his gaze briefly drifting to the empty seat. "Miss those times, even if they were chaotic."

Terzo, with a smirk, added, "Chaos and all, it was our chaos."

"Sì," Primo nodded, his expression softening. "But, at least we can enjoy Christmas without worrying about being summoned for some arcane ritual or paperwork."

Terzo raised his glass. "To getting a break."

The glasses chimed together in a harmonious toast, and each of you savored a sip of your drinks. Setting the glasses down on the table, you all returned to your meals, continuing to enjoy the Christmas feast.

Primo, his eyes sparkling with mischief, broke the silence. “Remember the time when we were younger and we decided to give the Ministry a taste of our version of Christmas caroling?”

Terzo grinned, a twinkle in his eye. “Ah, the ‘Satanic Carolers’ ensemble. Our renditions of classic carols with a satanic twist."

"And who can forget Terzo's attempt at caroling?" Secondo added, sharing a knowing look with Terzo.

Terzo rolled his eyes. "My rendition of 'Jingle Bells' was avant-garde."

“Of course,” Secondo replied with a touch of irony. “Truly groundbreaking.”

“What? You don’t appreciate my avant-garde style?” Terzo asked, turning his face to look at Secondo, who couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

Primo and you joined Secondo in laughter, and even Terzo, unable to resist the infectious moment, started to chuckle. With that, the four of you continued with the dinner, savoring the food and exchanging conversations filled with laughter.

Although Copia's absence lingered, the presence of his brothers somehow eased your melancholic thoughts, creating a sense of warmth. The only wish lingering in your mind was for Copia to be home tomorrow, sharing a Christmas lunch with the family.

As the hours slipped away, you all gradually set aside your plates, leaning back in your seats to savor a moment of contentment. Eventually, the four of you to rise and initiate the post-dinner cleanup. Plates and remnants of the feast were gathered, and you moved together to the kitchen.

Side by side, you worked on organizing the leftovers into the refrigerator and washing the dishes. The clatter of plates and the hum of conversation filled the kitchen. Once the tasks were completed, you four returned to the living room, reconvening around the dining table for more conversation and shared wine.

"I just want to thank you all for coming," you expressed with gratitude, a warm smile accompanying your words.

"You don't have to thank us," Primo replied warmly. "You're family now."

"It was great to have you planning this dinner for us," Terzo added.

"That's true, we appreciate it," Secondo acknowledged, taking a contemplative sip of his wine. "Should we get going now?"

Primo nodded ever so slightly, a warm smile playing on his lips. "Sì, we should be on our way," he suggested.

"Certo," Secondo concurred. "And thank you for the dinner," he added.

As Secondo and Primo spoke, the four of you gracefully made your way toward the entrance of the Papal Apartment. As you reached the door, you took hold of the doorknob, turning it to open the door for them. The trio stepped out into the hallway, turning to face you.

"Thank you all for coming and staying; I'm sure Copia would have enjoyed it."

"Non preoccuparti," Secondo reassured. "We'll be back for lunch tomorrow, sì?"

"I hope so; there's still an abundance of food left."

"We'll be here," Primo said, gracefully taking your hand and pressing a tender kiss onto the back of it. "Buona notte."

"Good night, Papa," you replied.

"Buona notte," Secondo nodded with a subtle gesture of farewell.

"Good night," you said, a warm smile lighting up your face.

"Buona notte. Don't forget to store the wine correctly for tomorrow," Terzo reminded.

"Of course, I wouldn't forget."

"Bene, molto bene," Terzo nodded, beginning to walk away. However, he paused, turned back to you, and walked in your direction. "I almost forgot," he said, placing his hand in his pocket and extending a neatly folded piece of paper to you. "That's from Copia. Buona fortuna."

Turning away, Terzo rejoined his brothers who were a few steps ahead. Clutching the neatly folded paper in your hand, you closed the door with a measured touch, your brows knit in anticipation. Walking towards the bedroom, you unfolded the paper with a sense of intrigue.

Upon reaching the bedroom, you paused in your steps, entering with a focused gaze fixed on the paper in your hands—Copia's handwritten note. As your eyes traced the lines, you began to read.

As you read these words, Terzo has faithfully passed on this message to you. No need to worry, everything's fine. Remember the first time we bumped into each other at the Ministry? I was immersed in preparing the altar for the mass when you graced me with your presence. Well, head back there. A little surprise awaits you. Yours always, Copia

What was this? What could Copia possibly mean with this note? A treasure hunt crossed your mind, and a laugh escaped your lips at the whimsical idea. Regardless, there was no time to linger on speculation. Your focus sharpened as you realized you needed to reach a specific destination—the Chapel.

Exiting your bedroom with hurried steps, excitement bubbled within you at the prospect of what awaited in the chapel. Could it be Copia? Probably wasn't, as he wasn't at the Ministry, and he wouldn't have skipped the Christmas dinner if he were. As you reached the front door of the Papal Apartment, you swung it open with a sense of urgency. The door closed behind you, and with purposeful strides, you made your way towards the chapel.

As you stepped into the chapel, the familiar scent of incense enveloped you, evoking memories of that first meeting. You still remember it—carrying Terzo's robes, you had entered to find Copia near the altar. He was still a Cardinal back then, and you were merely another sibling of sin toiling diligently within the Ministry. On that day, your paths crossed for the first time. Copia, in his red Cardinal robes, had glanced up as you entered. And for a moment your eyes met, and a subtle understanding passed between you—an unspoken connection.

Looking around the chapel, you felt a moment of uncertainty, you pondered where to go. However, as your gaze shifted towards the altar, a nostalgic sight caught your eye—the old red biretta that Copia used to wear. A bright smile illuminated your face as recognition dawned. You quickly made your way toward the altar, guided by the familiar presence of his cardinal hat.

Reaching for the altar, you delicately cradled the biretta in your hands, feeling the texture of its well-worn fabric. Softness filled your eyes as you gazed at the cardinal hat, a symbol of Copia's past. Nostalgia washed over you as you thought about the times when Copia was the Cardinal. There was a certain amusement in witnessing him in those distinctive red robes. It wasn't that you weren't proud of his role as Papa Emeritus IV; it was just the appreciation for the unique charm he exuded in his earlier cardinal days.

While appreciating Copia's biretta in your hands, you almost overlooked another folded paper hidden beneath it. Gently placing the cardinal hat back on the altar, you retrieved the concealed note. Unfolding it, your eyes were met with yet another message from Copia.

You know, I carry the memory of that day with me in my heart. It's impossible to forget. When our eyes met, it was as if time itself surrendered, leaving just you and me in this unholy Ministry, breathing and existing in the moment. We didn't exchange words back then. You were busy with your tasks, and I had my own to tackle. Yet, I have a confession to make—I was dying to hear your voice. Can you recall where we finally had our first conversation? With love, Copia

Finishing the note, you couldn't contain the excitement that had taken hold of you. Biting your lower lip, you pondered whether to take the biretta with you as a tangible connection to Copia. However, a decision was made to leave it on the altar, preserving the memory of your shared moments within the chapel.

As you walked away from the altar, your steps guided you toward the front door of the chapel. Exiting, you embarked on your way back to the place where your initial conversations with Copia had unfolded—the cafeteria.

The first conversation with Copia might not have been a grand affair, but it held a charm of its own. On that day, a lighthearted encounter in the cafeteria set the stage for a connection that would deepen over time.

It was a morning like any other, as you queued up to grab your breakfast. Unbeknownst to you, Copia entered the line right after you, standing behind. The comical twist came when both of you reached for the last juice box simultaneously, your hands meeting in the process. With a shared chuckle, Copia secured the juice box and extended it to you in a gentle gesture. However, you playfully declined, insisting he had reached for it first. It was a simple exchange marked by a twist of routine, as the juice box wasn't your first morning choice. But at this morning, for some reason, it was.

Entering the deserted cafeteria, your gaze was drawn to a familiar spot. Heading towards the food line, you spotted Copia's Cardinal gloves neatly placed, accompanied by a lone juice box. Placing your hand on top of the gloves, you ran your fingers over the lather textured fabric, and to your surprise, a slight sound echoed. Curiosity piqued, you picked up one of the gloves, discovering a folded paper tucked inside. Retrieving the concealed note, you unfolded it, eager to unveil the next message Copia had left for you.

Your voice, it's like the sweetest melody I've ever known. And when you laugh, it's like a warm embrace for my heart. I want you to know how much I cherish that moment when you chose that juice box on that fateful day, and your generosity in leaving it for me didn't go unnoticed. So now, I'm saving one just for you. Our talk that day may not have been long, but little did we know, it would set the stage for more conversations between us. We became friends, and over time, I found myself falling in love with you. And then, summoning every ounce of courage, I finally told you about my feelings. Do you still recall that day? Do you remember where I bared my heart and told you I loved you? Don't forget the juice box, Copia

A chuckle escaped you as you finished reading the note, and you couldn't help but be amused by Copia's playful hints. Reaching for the juice box, you deftly removed the straw from the back, unwrapping it before inserting it into the box. Taking a sip, a smile played on your lips as memories flooded back. The taste of the juice box held a unique significance, as his kisses, sometimes tasted like the very juice you were sipping.

Yet, this wasn't the time for sentimental reflections. Pushing aside those emotions, you took a deep breath and made your way out of the cafeteria, heading towards the next destination—the hallways. But not just any hallway, a specific one, guided by the clues Copia had left for you.

As time passed, the bond between you and Copia deepened. Your moments together became more frequent, and you discovered comfort in each other's presence. Sneaking into his Cardinal's cabinet became a routine, a chance to share the day, whether in conversation or in peaceful silence. In those quiet moments, the ease between you two reassured you that there was nothing to worry about.

The day Copia confessed his love for you was entirely unexpected. The two of you were strolling down the hallway en route to the library, where Copia needed to organize some archives. You offered him a helping hand, even though you were fairly certain he didn't require any assistance. Surprisingly, he accepted your offer.

As you walked together, a comfortable silence settled between you. The rhythmic sound of your synchronized footsteps echoed through the empty corridor. Suddenly, out of nowhere, his voice broke the silence, uttering three words that initially took a moment to register. After a brief pause, your mind comprehended—Copia had just said, "I love you."

And just as Copia had fallen in love, so had you.

Approaching the spot in the hallway where Copia had confessed his love, you noticed a folder lying on the floor. Bending down to retrieve it, you discovered a paper tucked inside. Pulling out the note, you unfolded it, eager to read the words wrote by Copia, perhaps offering another clue in the unfolding mystery of this treasure hunt.

The confession just burst out of me, guided by an overwhelming desire to shout my love to the world. I thought I might regret it, but to my surprise, I didn't—never have. The day I confessed my love was also the day I kissed you. Though, regrettably, it didn't happen right then. Just as I spilled my feelings, some siblings showed up, and we hastily made our way to the library. The ensuing silence was the most agonizing I've ever endured in your presence. Saying "I love you" without hearing it back left me sweating beneath my cassock. Yet, when we finally left, you spoke those words at the very spot where we had our first kiss. Can you recall where that was? We're almost at the end of this little game, and your gift awaits there. I love you. I love you more than words can express. I wish I could whisper those three words to you every minute of my day, Copia

Taking a deep breath, you leaned against the cold marble wall in the hallway, feeling its chill against your back. That day, and the kiss you both shared, are etched in your memory. When he uttered those three words, your heart threatened to burst, and the inability to reciprocate immediately left you in a momentary desperation.

From that moment onward, not a day passed without both of you expressing your love for each other. Stepping away from the chilly wall, you eagerly headed towards the place where your love story began—the Cardinal's cabinet.

After leaving the library that day, both of you carried archives in your hands, enveloped in a shared silence. The synchronicity of your steps faltered, as his pace quickened, and you hurriedly followed him down the hallway to his cabinet. And as you both entered the cabinet, Copia remained silent, almost as if he were anticipating something.

As you closed the door behind you and confessed your love, Copia turned towards you, drawing his face closer, almost reaching the point of a kiss. Perplexingly, he paused, perhaps awaiting a cue. In your impatience, you closed the gap before he could, and both of you let the archives fall to the floor, embracing each other passionately.

Standing in front of his old cabinet's door, uncertainty lingered about whether it would swing open. You reached for the doorknob and found it unexpectedly open. Pushing it open, you stepped into the now vacant space, a testament to his transfer to Papa's office.

Looking around the room, nothing immediately caught your eye. Wandering around, you systematically checked every nook and cranny, rifling through drawers and inspecting empty shelves. The note remained elusive. It wasn't until you halted beside his table and glanced towards the door that you spotted the note, suspended by a piece of tape.

You placed the empty juice box on the top of his old desk, hurrying to the door with a smile. You took the note and unfolded it, eager to read the note left for you.

When those three words finally escaped your lips, an irresistible urge propelled me to kiss you immediately. Yet, a fleeting doubt crossed my mind—was it a reciprocation or a repetition? However, as you closed the gap and our lips met, I understood, and the taste of that kiss is etched in my memory. We shared numerous kisses within the Ministry, especially in this cabinet. One night, you lingered with me until the late hours. I wrapped up my work, and just like any other day, I planted a goodnight kiss on your lips. However, that kiss took an unexpected turn, leading us somewhere else. In that place, we became one. Your gift awaits there, Copia

Opening the door to his old cabinet, you swiftly exited, closing it behind you with determination. Without a second thought, you knew it was time for your last stop—his old chambers.

The night referenced in the note held the memory of the evening you and Copia shared a heated kiss—an unforgettable moment when neither of you wanted to part. The unspoken desire lingering in that kiss set the stage for what felt like an inevitable path towards spending your first night together. Copia, sensing the shared passion, asked if you wanted to accompany him to his chambers.

Without hesitation, you accepted. As you both entered his chambers, your lips were already engaged in a fervent kiss. The desire between you two was palpable, prompting a delicate dance of undressing without breaking the kiss. As you both managed to shed your clothes, each second of separation filled with a longing that only intensified the desire.

On that night, as the note exposed, you and Copia became one. And it proved to be one of the most memorable and intimate nights you had ever shared with someone.

Approaching the door to his chambers, a soft glow of candlelight seeped through the narrow gap underneath. Your hand reached for the doorknob, and as you opened the door, the room revealed itself bathed in the gentle illumination of flickering candles. The ambiance was serene, with nothing out of place except for the impeccably made bed.

Stepping inside, you closed the door behind you, enveloping the room in a sense of intimacy. A warm smile graced your lips as you took a moment to survey the familiar surroundings. It had been a while since you last set foot in this space—since Copia ascended to the role of Papa Emeritus and subsequently moved to the Papal Apartment, inviting you to join him.

Approaching his neatly made bed, you noticed the final folded paper resting on top. Picking it up, you unfolded it with anticipation, ready to read the last message that Copia had left for you.

You, the most sinful creation molded by the skilled hands of our Dark Lord, leave me utterly enchanted. Every nuance of your body, every inch, every fragment, fuels an ever-growing love within me. It's almost surreal to think that Satan himself could have blessed me with you, but I express gratitude to him daily. This place holds the memories of our first time and countless others. It's where you truly became mine, and I became yours. I brought you here with the simple desire to reclaim you as mine once again. I promised you a gift, didn't I? So, why don't you turn around?

Finishing the note, you raised your head and turned your body, only to find Copia on his knees right behind you. A sweet smile adorned his face as he extended his hand toward you. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, and you bit your lower lip to contain the emotions welling up within you.

Extending your hand to meet his, Copia delicately held it, placing a tender kiss on the back and brushing his nose against it. As he lifted his head to meet your gaze, parting his lips.

"We've been together for so many years," he began, his words laced with sentiment. "Countless memories, myriad places, and an abundance of moments that have woven our lives together. You've been the constant flame that has illuminated my heart, making each moment brighter and more meaningful. Your love has become the sacred devotion that binds me to you," with another tender kiss on the back of your hand, he continued, "I brought you here today because I want to recommit myself to you, to reclaim you as mine. And no, amore mio, I'm not talking about the physical aspect. Would you honor me with the privilege of marrying me?" he asked, his gaze sincere and filled with love.

"W-What?" you stammered, your eyes widening in surprise. "What did you just say?"

He took a deep breath, his gaze shifting nervously. "I asked you if you want to... Eeh..." As he started to stand up from his knees, uncertainty painted his expression. "I- I... Maybe it's too soon, sì?" he questioned, his voice laced with a hint of self-doubt.

A stunned silence enveloped you as you processed what had just transpired—Copia had just proposed. Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly felt his hands gently touching your face, cupping it, and turning it towards him. Your eyes locked, and in that intimate gaze, you could discern a subtle tremor in his usually composed demeanor.

"Copia..." you whispered, your voice soft as you closed your eyes.

"S-Sì?" His response held a hint of anticipation and nervousness.

"It's not too soon," a smile graced your lips as you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. "You don't have to ask me twice; of course, I'll marry you."

"Vita mia..." he whispered, drawing his face closer to yours, hovering just inches away, teasing with the possibility of a kiss. "Are you attempting to assassinate your Papa at Christmas?"

You laughed, shaking your head gently. "Never," you replied. "You simply caught me off guard."

"Isn't that how marriage proposals should be?" he inquired, tilting his head, his thumbs tenderly caressing your cheeks.

"I guess?" you smiled, your gaze moving from his eyes to his inviting lips.

“I'm sure of it, amore,” he whispered, his lips brushing the corner of yours, "So, do your Papa get his Christmas kiss now, or should he expect for a mistletoe?"

You grinned, your eyes twinkling mischievously. “How about both?” Your lips hovered closer, the temptation growing with each passing moment. "Although I don't have a mistletoe with me right now..."

With a nearly imperceptible nod, Copia closed the lingering distance between you. His lips finally united with yours in a romantic, unhurried kiss, steeped in both longing and devotion. His hands cradled your face with tenderness, while your own settled at his waist, fingers grasping his shirt with a touch of possessiveness.

The kiss unfolded with a deliberate slowness, a dance of passion free from the urgency of teeth and tongues. It spoke volumes of a love so profound that words paled in comparison. As the connection deepened, you found yourself surrendering to the moment, lost in its enchantment.

The gentle caress of his lips against yours sent a shiver down your spine. His touch, gentle yet firm, prompted your arms to wrap around his neck, drawing him nearer as his own encircled your waist, holding you close. The warmth of his body seeped into yours, creating a comforting heat. The rhythmic thud of his heart against your chest resonated in harmony.

The sweetness of his mouth lingered, fueling a desire for more. Your arms left his neck, trailing down his back, pulling him in closer. His response was an intensified kiss, his tongue delicately exploring the contours of your mouth.

The connection deepened, an electric current coursing through your body. It felt as if an invisible force tethered you two, compelling a response. Your lips parted, allowing an intricate dance of tongues to unfold. As the intensity peaked, you summoned the strength to pull away, your fingers gradually tracing a path with your fingertips from his back to his chest.

"Copia..." the velvety tone of your voice wrapped around his name.

"Sì, amore mio?" He responded, gently.

"When did you arrive here?" You traced your fingers along the contours of his chest, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

"Not a long time ago," he replied, his hands moving from your waist to your hips, drawing you in closer.

Your fingers toyed with the fabric around his neck, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "So you planned all of this?"

He hesitated for a moment before replying, "Euhh... Sì..."

A mock expression of anger crossed your face as you accused, "So you knew you'd be at the Ministry, and you lied to me!"

"Oh, amore mio," he chuckled, leaning his face closer to yours once again. "I wasn't certain about the exact time I'd arrive. I needed to be sure I could make it work. But It was a good reason to lie, sì?"

"How long have you been planning this?" you inquired in a soft tone.

Copia turned to you, the smile still gracing his face. “I’ve wanted to ask you this for a long time. Since I realized how you make my dark world brighter, and I can’t imagine myself with anyone else. I can't wait to spend the rest of my existence making you as happy as you make me."

"Copia, I'm already happy by your side," you murmured. "But, you know," you began, tracing circles on his chest with your fingertips, "you're not getting away with proposing without answering some important questions."

Copia grinned, his eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked at you. "Ask away, vita mia."

"Firstly," you said, feigning a serious tone, "how did you manage to plan all this without me catching a single hint? I thought I knew all your secrets."

Copia chuckled, his thumb gently caressing your hand. "A Papa Emeritus always has a few tricks up his sleeve."

"Nice answer," a giggle escaped from your lips. "Secondly, was this grand proposal plan your own masterpiece, or did your brothers offer their expert opinions?"

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "As much as I'd love to credit Primo, Secondo and Terzo with impeccable romantic taste, this plan was all mine. I wanted it to be special, just for us. However, they helped me to gain some time."

"They did what?" You laughed. "Smooth, Papa. Very smooth. Now, the last and most crucial question—did you rehearse your proposal lines in front of a mirror?"

"Oh!" Copia's expression shifted to a mockingly serious tone. "Absolutely not!" He followed it with a playful chuckle. "Eh, maybe just a little?"

You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. "A little?"

"Well, every great performance deserves a bit of rehearsal, sì?" Copia grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Vieni qui, amore mio," he gently pulled you closer, pressing your bodies together, and took your lips in another kiss.

This time, the kiss was deeper and passionate. Copia's touch ignited a fire within you. His hands explored your body with a hunger. Fingers traced sensuous patterns along your sides, dipped down to your hips, and returned to the curve of your waist. Copia's arms enveloped you, pulling you close as if he couldn't get enough of the taste, the touch, the essence of you.

As a soft moan escaped your lips, Copia's tongue danced with yours in a passionate exploration. Your arms tightened around his neck, and you responded eagerly, deepening the connection. Copia sighed into the kiss, his head tilting to intensify the intimate dance. Your tongues met in a heated battle, and he groaned against your lips.

Once again, Copia's hands roamed your body, trailing along your spine and tracing the contours of your curves. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine. Your bodies molded together seamlessly, and every sensation became a blur of pleasure. Copia's lips moved with a rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart.

The kiss intensified, and a symphony of moans, sighs, and the occasional purr resonated between you. Copia's breath mingled with yours, creating an intoxicating match of lust. The kiss became a fusion of desire and longing, that left you breathless and craving more.

But with a reluctant sigh, you summoned the strength to pull away—gasping for air. Your lips lingering for a moment longer before parting. The air crackled with the energy of the heated kiss, and Copia's eyes, still darkened with desire, met yours.

"S-Should we head upstairs...?" you inquired, your breath catching.

Copia's eyes, clouded with desire, met yours as he caught his breath. "As much as I'd love to, amore mio," he murmured, "I've missed you so much, and if we go upstairs, I won't be able to contain myself in the middle of the way."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his playful tone. "Oh, so you're saying you'd lose control?"

Copia's grin widened, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. "Entirely. I'm just a Papa who's been missing his better half."

"So why don't you fuck me right here, on your own bed, like you've missed me so much?"

Copia's eyes deepened with desire, a wicked grin playing on his lips as he fixed his gaze on you. Mischief flickered in his mismatched eyes. "Are you absolutely certain about what you're asking?" he inquired, his voice taking on a husky tone.

"I'm well aware of what I'm asking for," you whispered, trailing your tongue from his lips to the tip of his nose.

"Cazzo, ti amo così tanto," he murmured with a voice heavy with desire.

Copia enveloped you in his arms, and you guided him towards his bed. Grasping the fabric around his neck, you pulled him with you until your calves met the mattress. Sensing it, you gradually descended, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. Copia positioned himself on his knees in front of you, maintaining an unwavering gaze. Without diverting his eyes, he initiated the task of undressing you, deliberately unhurried in his movements.

As he finished undressing you, leaving you only in your underwear, he planted a tender peck on your lips. "Don't move," he whispered, his voice carrying a hint of lustful anticipation.

Copia rose, beginning to work on unbuttoning his shirt, but he halted abruptly as you drew your face closer to his crotch, lightly brushing your lips against his evident bulge. You turned your attention to him, mouthing the undoing of his pants, causing Copia to inhale sharply, biting his lower lip. His hand found its way to your head, gently caressing your scalp, and he knelt in front of you once again.

Copia's eyes glinted with a playful intensity as he whispered, his voice tinged with lust, "You're behaving like a very naughty mischief-maker. I don't think Santa will give you a present this year."

A mischievous smile played on your lips as you reached up, cupping his face in your hand and gently caressing his cheek. "And what about you, Papa?" you asked, your tone a sultry invitation. "Will you give me a present?"

Copia's gaze held yours, a hint of desire dancing in his eyes. "Oh, amore mio," he replied, his voice a seductive murmur, "I have a present for you that Santa could never deliver."

He drew closer, pressing his face against your neck, initiating a series of kisses and gentle licks. In that moment, a rush of anticipation surged within you as he drew near. His lips sought yours in a kiss that blended gentleness with passion. His tongue traced the curves of your mouth, hinting at the pleasure yet to unfold. Eagerly, your lips parted, inviting him in, and a tantalizing dance ensued as your tongues entwined, orchestrating a sensuous tango that erased the world around you.

Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, and you gracefully reclined on your back, maintaining the kiss without breaking its spell. Copia, crawled on top of you, his movements deliberate and confident.

His body seamlessly melding with yours in a flawless union. With each movement, the fabric of his clothes provided no resistance to the warmth of his skin. The linen material of his shirt glided between your bodies, generating a sensuous friction that intensified every touch and caress.

The weight of his body upon yours provided both comfort and arousa. Arching against him, you yearned for increased contact and friction. His hands delicately explored every curve and crevice of your body, leaving a lingering trail of electricity in their wake.

Breaking the kiss, he shifted his attention to nibble on your neck, the sensation of his stubble grazing against your sensitive skin sending shivers down your spine. His lips returned to yours, and as his hand descended, it cupped your ass, drawing you closer. The friction of his hardness against your mound became almost intoxicating. A moan escaped your lips, muffled by the intensity of the kiss as he deepened the connection.

The rhythm of his hips synchronized with the beat of your heart. His fingers skillfully navigated between you two, indulging in delicate touches on your thighs before ascending higher. His palm grazed your warmth through your underwear, eliciting a gasp that sent tickles of pleasure coursing through your body. Fingers tightly gripped his hair as you held him close, writhing beneath him, yearning for more of his intoxicating touch.

As if sensing your desires, Copia broke the kiss. "Amore mio, I want to feel you," his lips traced a tantalizing path along your jawline, nibbling your earlobe. "Do you want me to to make you cum, amore? Do you want me to make you scream my name?" His fingers deftly slid beneath the fabric of your underwear, gently stroking your clit, igniting a fire of sensation that left you breathless.

Eagerly nodding your head, your hips instinctively bucked, your core pulsating against his skilled fingers. Copia chuckled devilishly at your response. With your back arching, an unspoken invitation, he seized the opportunity, lifting you just enough to deftly slip off your underwear.

"You're so wet," he murmured. "I can feel how much you want me."

You could feel his hardness pressing against your thigh, and with a sense of urgency, you reached down to stroke him through his jeans. A deep groan escaped Copia's lips, the resonant sound vibrating through you, heightening the anticipation. Copia, attuned to your needs, returned his hand to your wetness, trailing his gloved fingers along your slit before skillfully sliding one finger inside of you. The sensation ignited a surge of pleasure, causing your inner walls to clench in response.

Moaning, you found it difficult to articulate words as Copia withdrew his finger from inside you, tracing a teasing path along your wet slit. The sensation left you aching for more. He slid one gloved finger inside you again, followed by another, filling you in a way that made your toes curl with pleasure. The initial slow and deliberate movements gave way to a faster, harder rhythm as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

"Oh, fuck!" you gasped, grabbing his hand as it ventured between your thighs. "yes-yes-yes-yes! Just-Ah! Copia! Calm down, or you'll make me cum fast!"

"Calm down?" he inquired, his gaze filled with desire. "I'm perfectly composed, amore. Just doing as instructed, fucking you like I've been missing you."

Your moans intensified, head tossed back, hips gyrating against his hand. Introducing a third finger, he expanded you further, evoking a cry from your lips. Copia skillfully curled his fingers, striking your sweet spot, unleashing waves of pleasure that caused your eyes to roll back and your lips to part. Gripping his shoulders, you dug your nails into him as he persistently worked his fingers in and out of you.

"CoO-Oh-pia!" your voice quivered, your legs beginning to tremble. "Co...Co...Copia-Ah! Ple-Plea...Please!"

He instinctively lowered his body, withdrawing his fingers from you. Swiftly, his face moved between your legs, engulfing your essence with an eager pull, consuming every inch with his mouth. From the base to the summit and back down, he licked you in a rhythmic repetition. He repeated this motion over and over, sucking your clit as he did so.

"Oh, fuck!" you exclaimed, squeezing your eyes shut. "For the love of Satan, Copia!"

Copia chuckled against your wetness, then closed his eyes and placed his hands on your thighs, keeping them open for him. He persisted in licking and sucking, his tongue darting in and out, exploring every inch of your wetness. Advancing to your clit, he flicked it with the tip of his tongue before drawing it into his mouth once more.

Drawing his head back from your core, you gasped, feeling the absence of sensations. As you opened your eyes, you were met with his smudged face, the paint around his lips almost turning gray. Casting a mischievous glance at you, Copia darted his tongue out, licking your slit while locking eyes with you. The intense gaze prompted you to bite your lower lip in response.

"You're quite the sight, Copia," you teased.

"Trying to provoke me, amore?" he asked with a husky voice, lowering his face to your wetness once again, his lips grazing against your folds. "Ever heard that it's not polite to make fun of someone while they're enjoying their meal? Consider this my Christmas dinner. Don't tempt me too much, or you might find yourself the messy one here soon."

Wearing a devilish grin, he licked his lips, relishing the taste of you. Unable to resist, a smile played on your lips as you felt the warmth of his mouth against your core. Copia's eyes focused on your face, studying your features. Suddenly, a low groan escaped his lips, and he delved back into devouring your wetness with renewed enthusiasm. His tongue danced around your clit, prompting you to writhe in ecstasy. The fervor of his licks sent electric shocks of pleasure coursing through your entire body.

"C-Copia... I swear, you're going to make me cum..." you whimpered.

"No, I won't," he declared, withdrawing his head from your core. "Because you're only allowed to cum on my cock and with my cock inside you, capito?"

You nodded, and Copia smirked. Unexpectedly, he thrust his tongue inside you, skillfully swirling it around your walls. A whimper escaped your lips as pleasure surged through you. Your hips arched from the bed, and you ground your core against his face, sliding your clit up and down his nose. With one hand, you reached to grab his head, pressing it firmly against your core. Copia intensified his exploration of your wetness, rolling his eyes in pleasure, breathing warmly against your entrance. The sensation of his breath caused your legs to tremble.

You slid your hand to the top of his head, gently pulling it away as you shifted your hips back. Copia, undeterred, pulled you back towards him, gripping your thighs tightly. Leaving one hand on your thigh, he ventured with the other to your core, thrusting two gloved fingers inside you. A scream escaped your lips at the sensation of his fingers filling you, only to be followed by another cry as his thumb found your clit, skillfully rubbing it in circles, sending waves of pleasure that drove you wild.

"No! Oh, fuck!" you exclaimed, your breath coming fast. "Copia, please... you know I can't hold it if you do it like that."

Maintaining his fingers inside you, he gracefully positioned himself atop you, his face hovering above yours. His knees pressed against your legs, parting them for him. Your gaze met his, and he gently rested his forehead against yours. You tilted your face, capturing a tender kiss from his lips, all the while wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Don't play naughty, amore," he growled. "Behave, and you just might unwrap your present."

"P-Present...? Ah!" you gasped. "What present, Papa?"

"My cock, fucking you the way you like it," he whispered huskily.

He persisted, his fingers maintaining a steady rhythm as they moved in and out of you. Your orgasm was steadily building, and you could feel your juices flowing, coating his gloved fingers as they expertly maneuvered inside of you. A loud moan escaped your lips, prompting him to intensify the pace of his fingers, thrusting deeper and faster. The room echoed with the sound of his leather gloves sliding inside you, merging with the symphony of your breath.

This sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and you knew you were close, but Copia abruptly halted, withdrawing his fingers. A frustrated whimper escaped your lips, yearning for more, craving the continued touch.

"Please, don't stop," you begged, your voice quivering with desire.

Copia smirked, "You want more?"

"Yes..." you purred, "please."

Copia's smile deepened, his eyes filled with a mix of lust and mischief. "Not yet," he declared, his voice low. "I want to make it last."

His fingers traced a tantalizing path along your inner thighs, eliciting shivers of anticipation. Moving his hand between your legs, his fingers found your wetness once again. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your breath now coming in short gasps.

"Stop teasing me," you pleaded. "I need your cock."

Copia grinned devilishly, his hands reaching for your legs as he pulled back, getting on his knees in front of you. "Do you, amore?" He went for his pants, starting to undo them, letting his length swing free. "You want my cock?" he asked, using his gloved hand—still coated with your juices—to stroke his member lazily.

"Yes!" you gasped, your eyes fixed on the glistening tip of his member. "Please, I ache for your cock inside me."

Copia bit his lower lip while stroking his length, the wetness on his palm audibly spreading along his arousal. He began to breathe heavily and closed his eyes. Sensing the charged atmosphere, you slowly slid your hand between your legs, teasing your clit with circular motions.

Trying to stifle your moans, you pressed your lips together and whimpered, observing him pleasing himself in front of you. Continuing to tease your clit, you couldn't resist any longer, sliding two fingers inside yourself. Arching your back, you moaned loud as you began thrusting them in and out, succumbing to the pleasure building within you.

Copia's voice reached your ears, prompting you to open your eyes. "What are you doing?" he inquired.

Your eyes locked onto Copia's, who had a look of pure satisfaction on his face. Seeing your own enjoyment reflected in his expression. You increased the pace, moving your fingers faster and deeper, the sensations becoming too much to handle. You could feel your body tingling with pleasure, and you knew that it was only a matter of time before you would succumb to the intense sensations.

"Why are you playing with my dinner?" He adopted a more serious tone, grabbing your hand to stop you.

"C-Copia..." you took a deep breath. "I just need... I need you..."

Copia sighed, shaking his head, skillfully guiding his member between your folds as he pulled your fingers out of your entrance. You instinctively moved your hips, as if craving more, attempting to adjust your entrance to the tip of his length. However, Copia halted you, placing a firm hand on your stomach and gently lowering your hips.

"No..." Copia murmured, firmly holding his member and delivering a teasing slap against your wetness, the sound resonating through the room. "Comportati."

Copia sensually brought your fingers to his mouth, licking and mouthing them with a moan that echoed softly. As his mouth closed around your fingers, his tongue skillfully contoured them, creating an arousing suction. Meanwhile, he increased the pace of his self-stimulation, moving his hips in a rhythmic thrust against his own hand. The tip of his member collided with your heat, expertly rubbing against your clit.

He pulled your fingers out of his mouth with a distinct "pop" sound and gave them a final lick, locking eyes with you. "Turn for me, amore," he commanded, tapping your waist.

Obediently, you turned your body, laying down on your stomach, but swiftly, Copia gripped your waist, pulling your hips up to meet his. The sensation of his member pressed against you ignited a fervent response, and you began to move your hips, stealing a glance at him behind you. Unperturbed, Copia started removing his gloves, an act that hinted at his effort to restrain himself.

As he peeled off his gloves, his bare hands reached for your hips, sensually caressing them. "So desperate for me, amore," he whispered. "I love it when you're like that."

"Please, Copia," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want you. Fuck me."

His eyes darkened with desire as he observed your hips moving against him. Biting his lip, he struggled to maintain control but succumbed to the overwhelming temptation. His hands found their way to your back, skillfully massaging away the tension from your muscles. The touch was firm yet gentle, sending a wave of pleasure coursing through you. His hand glided down the small of your back, cupping one of your ass cheeks in his palm.

"I want you too," his hands shifted to your hips, pulling them closer to him.

His hardness pressed more insistently against you as he drew himself closer. "Fuck me, Copia."

With a groan, Copia pressed his hardness against your entrance. You were so wet that he slid in easily, filling you completely with one thrust. A moan escaped your lips, your body arching back into him. Copia began to move slowly, savoring the sensation of being inside you. Your body felt like heaven, and he wanted to make the experience last as long as possible. His hands gripped your hips, holding you still as he moved within you.

Copia, his voice low and filled with a seductive rasp, whispered, "Feel the pleasure, my sinful muse, as our bodies intertwine," he smiled and began to move faster. "Like an offering to the darkness that binds us," he continued, slamming into you with each trust. "Every moan, every gasp, a hymn in the name our unholy communion on this unholy night."

You gasped at his words, gripping the sheets firmly as Copia picked up the pace, driving into you harder and faster. Each thrust sent a wave of pleasure through you, his length hitting your cervix repeatedly, delving deeper with every movement. He lowered his body on top of yours, reaching for your hands to hold them firmly. Pressing kisses on your cheek, he traced a path from there to your back, leaving a trail of sensation in his wake.

"Yes, Copia... Mmm... Copia," you purred, your eyes closing as you held his hand in a firm grip. "Oh, yes, just like that! You fuck me so good."

"You're so tight," he said, his voice husky with desire. "I can't help but fuck you harder."

Your bodies moved in unison, a dance of perfect harmony. His hips slammed against your ass cheeks, the rhythmic sound filling the room and intertwining with your shared breaths and moans. His hands left yours, he wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you firmly against him. The sensation of his hardness sliding in and out of you was incredible, and you were lost in pleasure, the loud moans that came out of your mouth became unable to control.

"Pap-Ahhh..." you moaned, your eyes fluttering in pleasure as you felt his steady rhythm, his member sliding in and out of your tightness with ease.

His thrusts quickened, the audible sound of flesh slapping against flesh growing louder. Copia released his arms from around you, straightening his body. Temporarily halting his thrusts, he moved his hands to his shirt, skillfully unbuttoning it. Turning your head to watch, you clenched your walls around him, the anticipation building as his body was slowly revealed. His hairy chest formed a trail of masculinity down to his happy trail, prompting you to bite your lower lip.

Fueled by lust, you seized control, slamming your hips against him and taking charge of the rhythm, fucking yourself on his length. Copia let out a guttural growl, tearing off his shirt and tossing it aside. His hands returned to your hips, and he watched you intently as you moved your hips against his.

"Sì, sì, sì," he moaned. "Sì-Ah! Amore mio, you're amazing, so perfect for me, so eager," his fingers digging into your skin. "So hot, so wet, so tight, so incredibly beautiful as you ride my cock."

His eyes brimmed with lust, the hunger evident in their depths. His hands on your hips guided your movements as he started to move his own hips against yours. Abruptly, he pulled back, eliciting a whimper of emptiness from you as your hips fell onto the bed. Rising from the bed, he swiftly pulled his pants down, leaving them discarded on the floor.

Copia returned to the bed, crawling on top of you. Lowering his face onto the top of your back, he pressed a tender kiss on your shoulder and cheek. "Are you ready to cum for me, amore?" he whispered, brushing his nose against your cheek.

Your eyes locked onto each other, a silent understanding passing between you as you nodded. Copia responded with a smirk, supporting his hands on the bed, lifting his body. Skillfully moving his hips, he adjusted his position behind you and effortlessly guided his member back inside you, delving even deeper.

The moment he entered you, your eyes rolled back in ecstasy. You felt his shaft stretching you to the limit, filling every inch of your body with his warmth. The sensation was overwhelming as he began to move inside you, each thrust sending waved of pleasure coursing through your veins.

"Make me cum," you purred. "And fill me with your cum, Papa."

Continuing his rhythmic motions, he clutched the sheets for leverage. You pressed your hips against him, mirroring the increasing intensity of his pace. Your body responded eagerly to the sensations he crafted. His breathing grew heavier, each exhale carrying a sense of urgency, and his movements became more intense and erratic.

"I'm going to cum, amore," he announced. "I'm going to fill your tight, warm pussy."

You could feel his member pulsing inside you, and then, with a final thrust, he released himself within you. The sensation of his seed filling you up sent you over the edge. Your body trembled as the waves of your orgasm washed over you. He collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing against you as you both caught your breath, your bodies shuddering in the aftermath of pleasure.

Copia delicately withdrew from your body, a lingering trace of his essence left behind. Reclining beside you, his body turned towards yours, he extended a gentle hand to stroke your cheek with his thumb. A weary smile adorned your face, and he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours.

With closed eyes, you slowly shifted towards him, seeking proximity. Copia encircled his arms around you, pulling you closer. His forehead parted from yours, planting a tender kiss on it. As you bit your lip, your eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze with a mix of emotions.

"I love you," he declared, his eyes brimming with adoration.

"I love you more," you playfully countered.

"That's impossible, amore mio," he chuckled. "After all, it was I who proposed to you tonight, so that means I love you more."

"Does it?" you began, adopting a teasing tone. "But Copia, if you proposed to me, where's the... ring?" you chuckled.

"Uh... Eh!" With a confidant grin, he turned his back to you reaching for his pants on the floor, delving into his pants' pocket. He pulled it out with his hand closed, turning his body back to your direction. With a theatrical flair, he opened his hand, revealing the ring nestled in his palm. "Ta-da!" he exclaimed, a glint of triumph in his eyes.

A soft chuckle escaped you as you leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss onto his lips. Copia reciprocated by reaching for your hand, bringing it closer to his face and pressing a tender kiss onto the back of your hand. His touch was gentle yet deliberate as he delicately slipped the ring onto your finger. As the ring found its place, a radiant smile adorned his lips, and his eyes sparkled with joy as he admired the newly adorned hand.

"Well, I guess that means we're stuck with each other now," you said, a warm smile playing on your lips.

"Forever, amore," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of joy and affection. Leaning in for another kiss, he paused just before closing the gap.

Yearning for him to close the gap, your hand goes to his face, cupping his cheek as you stare at him. "What's wrong?"

His eyes sparkled with adoration as he caressed the back of your hand. He stared at you in silence for a moment, you can see his eyes tracing the features of your face “I'm really in love with you," a wide smile start to grew on is lips. "Merry Christmas, my soon-to-be forever partner."

And then, with that, Copia closed the gap between you two, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both sweet and slow. The taste lingered, carrying the feeling of the shared promise of forever.

Grammar

Amore (mio) - My love

Per favore, mi dispiace - Please, I'm sorry

Ti amo così tanto - I love you so much

Gruppo di vecchi, rabbiosi idioti - Group of old, grumpy idiots

Fratello - Brother

Stai zitto - Be quiet

Vecchi - Old

Mangiamo, sto morendo di fame - Let's eat, I'm starving

Vero - True

Sì - Yes

Certo - Certainly

Non preoccuparti - Don't worry

Buona notte - Good night

Bene, molto bene - Well, very well

Buona fortuna - Good luck

Vita mia - My life

Vieni qui, amore mio - Come here, my love

Capito? - Understood?

Comportati - Behave

433 notes · View notes

ragequeen94 · 6 months ago

Text

imagine cooking/having dinner with the Papas

sfw... kissing? lots of wine.

fanon understanding that Terzo is very bad at speaking English.

Primo

It had been a nice surprise when the Papa Emeritus the First had invited you to his quarters for dinner, you hadn't assumed it would be... just you and him though. You both had been dancing around each other gently for a while now. He was older, and so where you, did that mean that romance was not something you could dream of? He opened the door to his private quarters, the smell of fresh basil and faintly nicotine rolled out passed him as he stood over you, a grin spreading over his face. "Ciao Bella...."

"Papa." You bowed you head, the air around you intoxicating. "I brought wine, Papa." You stepped into the rooms, this was when you realized it would be just you and him. You stepped further into the room, he closed the heavy doors behind you as you took in his personal space. You'd never been here before, you assumed few had. dried garlic and sun dried tomatoes hung from the windows, spices and dried herbs on the shelves, the surfaces all covered in flour from what ever he had been cooking. But it smelled amazing. "Papa...-"

"In here you may, call be Primo, it is my name." He walked passed you, jumping to turn the heat down on a boiling pot, he lifted the lid and the smelled of spiced tomatoes mixxed in the air. He reached into a drawer and without really looking at you handed you a bottle opener. you stared at it, almost confused, like the metal spiral was foreign technology. "For the wine, Bella."

"OH!" you accepted it from him and went to work uncorking the bottle, a little panicked you didn't know where the glasses were kept. You placed the popped cork on the counter top, the screw still buried inside. "Papa.... er... Primo... do you have glasses."

"Si.." He turned back to you, turning off all the stove burner. What ever he had made was done. He walked straight to you, he was close, so very close. His long fingers slowly wrapping around the neck of the bottle and and taking it from you. Instead he brought it to his lips and sipped straight from the bottle. "Very good. Red wine is best of all, is it not?"

He reached over your head, his body pressing against yours as he brought down two wine classes from a cupboard you hadn't noticed before. He put them on the counter behind you, the glasses clinking lightly on the tiles, he still held the bottle, bringing it to his lips again for another sip. Both of you were flush against the other, staring into the other eyes. The smell of wine on his breath made you brave. You tilted your head, getting closer, there was no way he didn't know what you wanted. "Primo... let me taste it then..."

He leaned his head down and his lips met yours. He tasted of the wine, but of dinner. He had been sampling as he cooked. Your stomach growled. But you both stayed still, you still stealing little kisses from him, he let you doat on him a little. "We should eat, Bella. Then, plenty of wine and plenty of this. All the time in the world."

Secondo

Dinner had been fun, you enjoyed your time as a senior member of the church. You had worked hard, been dedicated, given up everything... you had happily done so in the name of the One Below, but there were parts of you that were... sad. That felt like you had missed out of parts of what life was meant to offer. Odd, considering you were a sister of sin and there was no vice in life you were not almost duty bound to sample. It wasn't until now, now that you sat at the same table to those who always seemed so far from you, so superior, and now you were equal. You sat back, swirling the rest of your wine, your third glass, as the espresso was brought out. You sat at the table with the head clergy, with Papa and his inner circle, with his family. And his family was loud, and very Italian. You felt eyes on you, eyes that had been on your all night.

Sat besides his older brother Papa Secondo smirked at you he sipped his coffee. There was an added bonus to your newly found power and position. The attention of Papa Emeritus the Second, he grinned wide at you, his gaze sliding away from you as his rowdy younger brother stood, telling a tale with wild hand movements, the quiet cardinal sat besides him was splattered with wine from the glass Terzo had apparently forgotten he was holding. Secondo barked a laugh, his eyes sliding back to your seat, only to find you gone. He quickly sat up in his seat, trying to find you in the mostly empty canteen. His family always sat at the dinner table for hours, it was the way things were done. Usually not headed to bed until Papa Nihil had fallen asleep in his chair.

He saw you slip into the kitchens. Secondo got up to follow, not bothering to excuse himself or offer explanation to his family as they called after him. You were searching through wine fridges that lined the underside of the kitchen counters. There always had to be enough wine on hand. "Cucciola... you could not be searching for more wine..." He teased as he strolled straight for you.

"Papa..." you murmured. "Jus' making up for lost time." You grinned. He was very aware of your sudden head first dive into hedonism, and he longed to be the one to lead you to your deepest desires.

"Cucciola... perhaps it is late in the night to open a new bottle of wine." He got close to you, his hand reaching up and running a thumb over your lip, it was stained dark red already. "Are you not sated?"

"Never, Papa." You smiled, drunkenly, reaching for him, grabbing him by the front of his button up shirt. "Papa... I'm still hungry... still thirsty..." You inched close. If you had been sober you would never have been so brave. But a lot could be said for the magic found wine and fresh bread. Secondo grinned like a predator, his sharp canine teeth gleaming passed his lips. He leaned down the rest of the way and pressed a kiss to your lips, quickly pushing you up against one of the cold stainless steel fridges, what ever was inside rattled. You didn't care as you gripped onto his shoulders and let his devour you.

"Papa... Papa..."

"Quiet Cucciola, be good for Papa... I will show teach you to live deliciously."

Terzo

You were nervous. It had gotten into your head to invite Papa Terzo over for dinner. You'd been getting to know one another, had gone out, slept together a few times; it hadn't gotten much deeper than that, and you couldn't really tell if he was interested in more than your company in his bed.

You looked at the meal you had prepared proud for only a moment. you were the best cook, you often got carried away with ingredients and ended up going rogue when it came to following recipes. When you had picked out what you wanted to cook your first instinct had been to go for Italian food. Terzo was Italian, so you hoped at least he would like what you pulled together. Then you remembered... he was Italian, and had probably grown up eating the best authentic Italian food on the planet. With home made spaghetti and everything! Suddenly you wanted to throw it all in the garbage... he was going to be so disappointed.

He knocked on your door, a little late but that had only given you time to clean up the kitchen and get the table set how you liked it. You hadn't really noticed his tardiness, only that he yelled it in your face when you opened the door.

"Cioccolatino! I am late! I am much sorry's!" He pranced into your dormitory apartment, flowers in his hand and two bottles of wine. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a kiss before he made a show of breathing deep. "Smells so good in here!"

He walked into your home like he belonged there, instantly pulling down a vase from a top cabinet and popping the flowers into some water before putting them on the dinner table. you dug through the kitchen utensils looking for a bottle opener (you didn't want him to know most of your wine came from a box). "they are beautiful, Papa..."

"Terzo, you knows this. I been telling you, when it me and you, it can just be Terzo." He leaned in and kissed you again. "I like how it sounds when you say it, your accent so cute."

You raised a brow, smiling at the thought that to him you were the one with the funny accent. God knows how it sounded to him when you had tried to say thing in his native language. "Then sit down, Terzo, or you'll have a cold dinner."

He pulled out your chair before opening the wine and pouring you a very full glass. "I am very hunger, I am excited to be invited for dinner." He chirped, dropping himself in his chair and you both served yourselves, though you watched closely. staring at him as he put the first bite in his mouth.

"Do you like... it?" You worried your lip watching his face as he chewed. "I know its probably not what your used to but i tried..."

"It is very good! Molto saporito! were is from? We shall order again some time!" He nodded excitedly. Your mouth dropped a little. Not really sure how to correct him, or if he was joking.

"Oh... well i made it myself." You muttered. A little shy about it for some reason. Terzo looked down at his plate and at the food still on the serving pans.

"You make for me?" Terzo reached out and grabbed his hand. "I am much sorry i not understand this earlier! What is called this dish? No one make as good as you, surely." Terzo started to shovel his dinner into his mouth, so interested in his food he hadn't even touched his wine.

"Oh... its not really anything... just kinda, a bunch of italian flavors put together. I think i was trying to make cacciatore but got a little carried away with sides and... yeah..." You smiled and sipped your wine. He obviously was very impressed and it stroked your ego to see him do so. "Just like back home, hu?"

it had meant to be a joke, nothing more but he looked a little sad and a little confused at the idea. "Back home food is not always so good, i have never had this before. Abbey kitchen cooks are not always so talented... Primo not a good cook like a mama when we are young" he put another very full fork full into his mouth, trying to laugh at the same time. "If i have this every day i'd be a round Papa."

You reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it, he leaned down and kissed your knuckles (neither caring he got sauce from his lips on your hand). He smiled at you gently, pausing his gluttony to stare at your face. he looked like he wanted to say something more, some thought danced around on his tongue but didn't make it passed his lips. he signed and seemed content to just enjoy looking at you. before he realized what he was doing.

"Sorrys i... um... lost my thinking." He let go of your hand. "i thanks you, cara. This is most best meal i shall eat."

Copia

You sat at the small kitchenette in Papa Emeritus the Fourths private quarters. You'd been officially dating for a little over a month at this point, and he had been so very sweet. Sweeter than any man you'd ever been with up to this point, being with him was kind of like being in... puppy love. He was a little awkward, a little nervous, and very unsure. He apologized a lot and stumbled over his words, when he held your hand it was always clammy and his grip a little too tight. You had guessed his awkwardness had been because of social anxiety, which he was in no short supply of. It had been your idea to have dinner in, to cook together and enjoy a meal.

Copia had had other plans, he always wanted to treat you like a princess, was determined to do so to a fault. Sometimes you didnt mind being treated like a whore. He would figure that out eventually. You hoped. You'd kissed and cuddled and there had been some more heated movements between the two of you but he had failed to make an assertive move on you. The plan was to get enough wine in him tonight to help him shed any anxiety he had.

You watched as he cursed and shook his hand, he had burned it on the hot saucepan some how. It had been like this for a while. You sat at the made table, the candles not yet lit, a once very full glass of wine now... not so full sitting by you hand. There was bread that had been taken from the kitchens (you had insisted he not try cooking and baking in the same day) with very room temp butter waiting. He had apparently had to restart everything when the pasta he had boiled had boiled for too long without his attention and had turned into a glutenous blob. Now he was trying gnocchi. You'd eat dino nuggets at this point you were so hungry.

but you waited.

and waited.

"Copia... my love. My sun and moon, stars in my sky." You stood from your spot, you ass sticking to the chair in places, you'd been in one place for so long. He was sweating, dark brown hair sticking to the back of his neck, sleaves rolled up to his elbows, flour he had no real reason to even have out was covering him in small splotches, there was a burn on the inside of his wrist you noted was getting red and angry. "Let me help you..."

"Im sorry." He muttered. He looked defeated. "Im just no good at this kind of thing. Cooking... looked easy in the movies." He grunted. He had been trying to slice up zucchini for some other dish. Looking over the pantry of ingredients he had dragged out onto the counter top you tried to make head or tails of what he had been trying to accomplish but it was a mess. You knew there was chicken in the oven, you were sure he had poured as much seasonings onto it as possible without knowing what they even were. There were raw potatoes on the counter, for some reason a bag of frozen fish he seemed to have forgotten about. all kinds of vegetables half chopped and ignored, the only thing actually cooking were the gnocchi and some very chunky pasta sauce he had made by putting a dozen tomatoes in a blender with half a bottle of wine and some garlic.

"I want to help. I get to be close to you." You kissed his cheek, he leaned into your touch. You started to clear the counter tops to try and declutter what you really needed and help his stress. "I don't need anything fancy my love. A pizza and your company is enough-"

Copia frowned and looked a little angry. He stayed silent to a while then rather aggressively threw open the oven to check the chicken. It actually looked pretty good and smelled nice. He slammed shut the oven door and crossed his arms over his chest. "I want to do this nice thing for you, vita mia. I want to be a good boyfriend and be able to make risotto. Not burn pasta."

You looked around, trying to spot any trace of risotto. He gestured to the trash can. You smiled and walked over to him. Leaning up to kiss him, gabbing is belt to pull him close to you. "You are the best boyfriend with or with out risotto."

He nodded still upset but obviously defeated.

The gnocchi caught fire,

After the fire alarms had been turned off and the destruction cleared you couldn't help but giggle. You lead him to the living room, after having moved the setting from the kitchen table to the coffee table. And with two large glasses of wine you both sat and watched a horror movie picking at a whole chicken, still in the baking pan, with your fingers.

#ghost #ghost bc #cardinal copia #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost imagine #cardinal copia x reader #papa secondo #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iii #papa terzo #papa primo x reader #papa secondo x reader #papa terzo x reader

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da-rulah · 1 year ago

Text

Rituale Septem - Day 6: Greed

Pairing: (Swiss x Dewdrop x f!reader)

Summary: Terzo takes a step back from guiding you in the ritual, but he fails to tell you why. He sends his Ghouls to you instead - luckily for you, those Ghouls know just what you need to forget about Papa Emeritus III. If even just for a moment...

Rating: Mature, MDNI 18+

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: Angst, threesome, fingering, oral (f receiving), squirting, p in v sex, double penetration, some m+m elements (potentially a sexual awakening...), double creampie, mind break, cum eating, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

A/N: Just popping here to say again, the Ghouls all have silver masks and are trainees under Terzo's reign for the time being. I don't know Terzo's Ghouls well enough to be able to write their characters. Thank you for understanding - Enjoy!🖤

Prev: Day 5 - Envy | Next: Day 7: Pride

October 30th

What a fucking idiota.

Terzo reprimanded himself as he stood in the doorway to his office. After a night of sleeplessness, tossing and turning with images of you screwing his half-brother or Satan-forbid, your tear-stained cheeks he’d missed when you watched him railing Christine in front of you, he was exhausted. It was karmic, and he knew that. He deserved it.

He stared at the chairs in front of his desk, reliving the events of yesterday. He knew the mistakes he’d made, and he wasn’t sure how to make up for them. But Primo had been extremely useful and given him direction, at least for now. He would be taking a step back; you didn’t need him to complete your goal.

“Good morning, Papa,” Christine greeted from behind him, somewhat hesitantly as if she knew of his fragile state of mind. Terzo jumped even at that, turning his head as if shaken from a dream.

“Oh, uh... sì, buongiorno,” he dismissed her, stepping into his office and heading for his desk. Christine gingerly followed him in, standing between those damn chairs and the door.

“Did, um... Did you talk to Sister ____?” she asked, worry in her tone.

Terzo was instantly transported back to the moment he’d found you in Copia’s workshop, walking into... that.

“Um... not exactly,” he sighed. Sister Christine rolled her eyes.

“Papa, seriously? You can’t just hide with your tail between your legs, you should-”

“She was a little busy,” he interrupted, sternly. “Don’t worry, Christine. I got what was coming to me.”

Christine’s brows furrowed in confusion, her shoulders sagging in defeat. She saw the pained look on his face, how different he looked today. His face looked puffy with a lack of sleep, his paints thinly applied and not to the usual crisp standard. Even his hair wasn’t styled so neatly, parting in the middle and falling over his forehead. She wasn’t sure what had happened when he’d gone to find you yesterday, but she also knew she shouldn’t ask.

“O-okay... Well, Sister Imperator left a note for you on my desk this morning,” Terzo didn’t hide the groan of disdain at the mention of Imperator, “I know, I know... She requires your assistance in setting up the Great Hall for the All Hallow’s Ball tomorrow. Apparently, your opinions on decorative party supplies are a necessity.”

“Va bene, (Okay,) I’ll go soon. I just need to do something first... Would you leave me?” he asked.

“Of course,” she nodded with a sympathetic smile, and left him to his own solitude.

Terzo dug around his desk for his stationary set, pulling out a clean parchment and his expensive ink pen, and began to write...

Sorella ______,

I have every belief you can finish this on your own. You do not need my assistance, or my guidance. With just two sins left, I’m positive you can achieve what you wish for.

Enjoy the Ball tomorrow evening.

Papa Emeritus III

He had hoped his belief in you would shine through his brief note. Apologies felt like an insult to your intelligence, and any kind of confession of feelings felt too distracting to your task at hand. This would have to do.

He folded the parchment, sealing it with a fresh wax seal, and got up to leave, heading towards the Great Hall. He would hand the note to one of his Ghouls on his way and ask them to drop it off, leaving you to complete whichever of the two sins you chose today in peace, and without his interference.

He owed you that much, he thought.

The knock at your door that morning startled you, completely unexpected. A part of you, childishly, hoped that it was him... Maybe he’d come to apologise, giving you an opportunity to do the same. Hell, even if he showed up pretending nothing had happened and wanted to jump right back into the ritual, you’d let him. You just wished you’d see his face on the other side of that door; the rest you’d figure out.

But you were sorely disappointed.

Instead, Swiss and Dewdrop stood shoulder to shoulder, a piece of folded parchment in Swiss’ hand.

“Good morning, Sister ______!” Swiss chirped, entirely too giddily for such an early call. Dewdrop remained as silent and stoic as ever.

“Oh... Hi.” You sounded disappointed even to your own ears. Swiss’ signature smile dropped, and behind his mask his eyes squinted in suspicion.

“Well... okay, then...” he shook it off, unsure if he should pry. “Got a thing for ya!” he held the parchment out to you, notably with the wax seal facing up and proudly displaying Papa’s crest indented into it. You stared at it for a beat too long, and Swiss shook it in front of your eyes, awakening you from your own analytical trance. You took it from him, stepping back into your apartment and dropping lazily with a huff onto your couch. Swiss invited himself in, sitting on the opposite end whilst Dew hovered in the doorway, shutting the door behind him.

You popped the seal on the paper, unfolding it to see Papa’s handwriting in a short and frankly abrupt note. Your eyes skimmed it, reading and re-reading over and over, and getting visibly more annoyed with each read through.

“I have every belief you can finish this on your own.”

On your own.

Was he fucking serious? He was just... abandoning you? No apologies, no explanations... he couldn’t even be bothered to show his fucking face today, getting his Ghouls to do his dirty work?

“You fucking asshole...” you muttered, screwing the note up tightly in your fist and throwing it to the floor, slamming your back against the couch and folding your arms like a toddler in a tantrum.

An awkward silence fell over the room, losing yourself in your own thoughts again. So, he was just going to leave you to perform pride and greed alone, with no guidance, not even a hint at what the hell you could possibly do for either one? He'd ruined it. He was spoiling the entire ritual, after you’d done everything you could to stay on task and with just two days left.

Your mind worked itself into a dizzying array of possible scenarios you might be able to play out for the remaining sins, trying desperately to think of something, anything you could do today for either one. Nothing stuck, too complicated by the confusing mix of anger and disappointment in the pit of your stomach.

You’d almost forgotten about the two Ghouls in your presence until Swiss spoke up.

“Sister, are you alright? What did he do?” Swiss’ hand rested on your shoulder, bringing you back to reality.

“He’s just... leaving me to it,” you spat. Swiss was even more confused.

“To what?” he asked. “I don’t understand...” he looked up to Dew, who just shrugged with a shake of his head.

And so, you explained. You told them of the ritual, of each sin you’d performed – conveniently leaving out of course the part where you were now harbouring some very confusing feelings about Papa Emeritus III – and what it was all for. To your surprise, Swiss and Dew listened along attentively, without judgement. Dew came to sit beside you on the armrest of the couch too, his attention on you and allowing you to vent. You’d half expected some clever quips to come from Swiss but no, they both just listened.

“And now, for some reason, he’s just abandoned me and said ‘okay, ______, figure it out yourself’.” Of course, you had an idea what that reason was... clearly you’d pissed him off, but he’d started it when he dove dick first into your friend and laughed at you for having any kind of negative reaction!

Reality set in, and tears welled in your eyes. You really were going to fumble this ritual, now. You wouldn’t get to hear the Dark One’s voice, you wouldn’t get the guidance you had been so desperate for and frankly, you were beginning to question once again your place in the Ministry. You may as well start packing your bags now...

Swiss and Dew shared a look you missed; one of sympathy, like they both wanted to do something to console you. They didn’t want to see a sister lose her faith, particularly not one as kind to the Ghouls as you.

“Well hey, maybe we can help think of something?” Swiss slapped Dew’s back from behind you to encourage him. He nodded vigorously, placing his hand on your other shoulder. “What sins do you have left?”

“Pride and greed...” Your voice shook with unshed tears. “What the hell am I going to do?”

Swiss thought for a moment, shuffling closer to you on the couch to wrap an arm around you and pull you to lay on his chest. He rubbed his hand up and down your arm while you burrowed your face into his neck, allowing yourself a moment to collect yourself, take some breaths.

“Pride is a tough one, that’s about thinking of yourself before another, like being narcissistic or vain, but it can come down to something as simple as self-respect. How you embody that in sin, I don’t really know. I always thought it was a stupid one. What’s wrong with loving yourself, hm? Never got God’s problem with that. Think he just didn’t want people thinking they were better than him...” he scoffed. “Ironic that he made pride a sin when there’s never been a deity with a higher superiority complex.”

You chuckled at that; he was right. But it wasn’t giving you much confidence in how to perform this...

“But greed is easier. That’s about having an excessive, selfish desire to acquire something... Like power or money. Could be... pleasure...” he hesitated there, looking down at you through his mask. “I mean, you could... desire excessive pleasure?” he asked.

You sat up, brain ticking over what he’d said. He was right again, of course. You could...

“I think that, if you wanted to... we could help with that?” Swiss tested the waters, looking up at Dew who nodded slowly in agreement. “Only if you want us to, of course...”

“You’d do that for me?” you asked, sitting up and looking between the two Ghouls. The idea of it far from horrified you. In fact, you had been a little disappointed after your encounter with Phantom that you were too exhausted to find out what Swiss and Dew could do for you. And let’s face it, you were running out of options and time. You had no doubt at all in their ability to enact this sin with you, and you trusted them enough to do so.

“Sweetheart...” Swiss moved in closer, his lips hovering by your ear, tone deepening significantly, “Do you have any idea how disappointed we were when we realised our dear Phantom had exhausted you the other day?”

Swiss’ breath was impossibly hot against your neck, spreading goosebumps over your skin where he moved your hair behind your shoulder with one finger. Dew slid onto the couch on your other side, trapping you between the two of them. He stayed silent as he always did, but his eyes sparkled with an interest that hadn’t been there a few moments ago.

“I-I was disappointed... too...” you stuttered as you felt Swiss’ teeth nipping at your ear lobe, Dew’s hand coming to rest on your knee and drawing delicate patterns into your skin where the hem of your skirt couldn’t quite reach. This was moving fast, but frankly, you didn’t have time to hesitate – you'd only talk yourself out of it, and you didn’t want to do that.

“We could... make you feel good, Sister...” Swiss teased, pressing his lips to the spot on your neck under your ear that sent a wave of arousal through your body. “Just say yes...” he whispered into your neck, drawing patterns with the tip of his nose while Dew’s fingertips travelled up your thigh.

You had to admit, you were easily affected by the Ghouls and their small gestures of affection. At a time when affection was exactly what you needed, you weren’t all that concerned where you got it from. Clearly, it wouldn’t come from the one place you wish it would... And this served a purpose, didn’t it? A means to an end, if you will. Why deny yourself the pleasure? Why deny yourself all the work you’d already put in?

“Fuck it...” you breathed, rolling your head back as Dew attached his lips to the other side of your neck, suckling softly at the skin where previous bruises had yellowed.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, we intend to...” Swiss promised, a new fervour in the way he kissed your neck, his hand coming to grip your waist where Dew was pressed against you.

You were surrounded by them both, their hands wandering, their mouths working you to a heightened state of arousal. Dew’s hand began to squeeze at your inner thigh under your skirt, his nails scratching the skin and coaxing your thighs apart for him.

You turned your head to face Dew, his eyes hooded and hazy behind the glint of his silver mask. You could see him biting his lip, searching your face for any protests while his hands squeezed and scratched higher and higher up the inside of your thigh but he found nothing. Instead, with a particular sharp scratch to the skin you found yourself whining and latching your lips to his, pulling him to you by his uniform. Dew groaned, shoving his palm against your clothed mound for you to rut yourself again.

Swiss chuckled against your neck, sinking his teeth into the flesh just enough to cause a sharpness, never enough to burst the skin. You weren’t sure you’d mind if he did at this point, but instead he laved his tongue over the spot, gripping at your waist even tighter and grinding his crotch into your hipbone.

If anyone had seen the three of you right now, they’d accuse you of being horny teenagers, dry humping and making out unrestricted and messy. Truth be told you allowed yourself to lose control, trusting that the two Ghouls entrapping you would take care of you.

Dew’s hand pressed so tightly against your heat, pressing your panties into you and dampening them on your arousal. You ground your hips as you kissed him, tongues dancing together whilst shockwaves pulsed through your clit. Your whimpers were swallowed by Dew’s mouth, earning a low growl from deep within his chest.

Swiss’ cock had hardened in his pants, still grinding into your hip from the angle he was sat beside you. He’d curled himself around you in a way that allowed him access still to your neck, stretched to accommodate Dew on the other side. He purred into your neck, his instincts taking over.

“Sister, tell us what you want...” he pleaded, reaching to grope at your breast through your habit. You parted from Dew and turned your head to him.

“Make me feel good... Until I beg you to stop,” you grinned wildly, grabbing him by his waistcoat and crashing your lips to his. Dew watched hungrily, his hand becoming more calculated and switching to his fingers circling your clit over your panties. Your body writhed where you sat, overwhelmed with the feeling of hands everywhere, pleasure tingling through every nerve.

As your tongue swirled with Swiss’, he unbuttoned your habit, reaching underneath to push his hand under the cup of your bra – another matching piece that Dew was marvelling now he could see your panties under his hand. Swiss broke your kiss, getting a good look at your body now exposed to him.

“Such a pretty set, sweetheart,” he practically sang, ogling the deep green embroidery of the set you’d put on today, still dressing up for whoever had been lucky enough to see them today. “You put this on for your Papa?” he teased.

Now, logically you knew Swiss meant no harm with that question. He wasn’t teasing maliciously.

And yet, somewhat illogically, the mere mention of his name was enough to rouse an anger in you that had you slapping your hand over his lips and holding him still in front of you.

“Don’t fucking mention him. Just give me what I want, Swiss,” you demanded, resigning to your greed already. You pushed him with all your might, ignoring Dew for the moment and forcing Swiss onto his back. His eyes sparkled behind his mask with mischief, hands reaching for your bare thighs as you straddled him and ripped your unbuttoned habit from your arms, throwing it to the floor.

Dew quickly moved with you, sitting himself between Swiss’ ankles and shuffling until his chest met your back. His hands gripped your hips and sat you down on Swiss’ bulge, controlling the way you ground your pussy against him. For all of his silence, Dew’s actions spoke volumes. He guided you as you rutted against Swiss, taking your pleasure while he nipped into your bare shoulder.

With a rhythm created, Dew could focus his hands on your body, removing your bra and pinching at your pebbled nipples. Swiss groaned beneath you, the sight of you mixed with the grind on his cock an intoxicating cocktail.

“Dew... Dew, get these off her, man,” he pants, pinging at the waistband of your panties. Dew complied, dropping his hands to them and ripping without hesitation, tearing into the material and flinging it elsewhere. “Hope you didn’t like them too much, sweetheart,” Swiss smirked, undoing the zipper of his trousers between you and hissing when you rubbed your folds over his knuckles as he did.

As Swiss began to undress himself, Dew took it upon himself to make sure you weren’t going a second without stimulation. From behind you, he slid his hands under you, pushing his fingers forwards through your soaked folds until his fingertips circled your clit. Your back arched at the sensation, reaching behind you and around the back of his neck to pull his chest against you. He alternated between dragging his fingers through your slick folds and circling your clit over and over whilst you dug your nails into the back of his head, pulling his lips down to yours to muffle your moans in a desperate kiss.

Beneath you, Swiss managed to remove his waistcoat and shirt and push his pants down enough to release his length. He stroked himself as he watched the display above him, seeing you get closer and closer to your first orgasm. He began to talk you through it, coaxing you more and more while Dew’s fingers took on a mind of their own.

“Feels good, huh, baby?” he laughed after a particularly lavish moan escaped your lips and your hips bucked against Dew’s fingers. “Push ‘em inside, Dew. Let her feel you,” he encouraged. Dew did just that, slipping two fingers inside your heat from behind you. You cursed into his mouth, clenching around the intrusion that felt so fucking welcome you almost toppled over the edge just at that.

Dew growled, curling his fingers as he fucked them in and out of you. The coil inside you was tightening impossibly fast, and within a minute you knew you were set to burst.

“Are you gonna cum on his fingers, sweetheart? Come on... Give us one,” Swiss cheered you on, stroking himself and using his free hand to cup your breast, pinching your nipple to punctuate his words. When you bucked and writhed, orgasm finally hitting you he praised you, “There we go, hm? Good girl... Cum on his fingers baby, that’s it...”

You whined and clenched on Dew, biting down on his bottom lip and he fucked his hand into you to get you through it. When the pleasure ebbed away, you leaned back against him, turning your head to look down at Swiss who was smirking, slowly stroking at his now leaking cock. Now able to see his chest, you realised just how built he was underneath his shirt and waistcoat. A thin layer of chest hair contoured his chest and abdomen, right down to where he was touching himself; it drove you wild.

“Good?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Mhm. Want more,” you grinned, bending at the waist to hover over him, your hand swatted his away as you leaned.

“More?” he teased, “Greedy little girl...” You giggled, beginning to stroke him and pushing your lips to his to silence him. Behind you, Dew was busy taking in the view as he sucked on the fingers he’d dove inside you, cleaning himself off. From where you bent over Swiss, he had the perfect view of your rounded and still bruised ass and your exposed, glistening cunt. Tasting you on his fingers ignited something inside him, growling as he licked every last drop.

Swiss noticed his friend’s eyes trained on your core, hearing his growls and broke your kiss to nod in his direction and show you what you’d caused. You followed his gaze and watched the man who was hypnotised by your taste...

“I think he likes you,” Swiss flirted, “why don’t you let him have a taste, sweetheart? I’m sure he can give you another with his tongue...” A deeper, louder growl came from Dew’s throat. “See?”

Looking behind you, you saw Dew’s gaze had fallen on yours as if waiting for permission... “Don’t stop until I’m cumming, Dew,” you demanded, wiggling your hips in front of him.

Like a man possessed, Dew shuffled back on the couch and bent down, shoving his masked face into your ass and laving his tongue over your core. You fell forward at the force, slamming to Swiss’ chest where he held you tightly against him. Laying against him you could do nothing to pump his length in your hand, but Swiss didn’t mind. Plenty of time for that later... For now, he was enjoying the look on your face as Dew dove into your pussy, sucking and licking and nipping at your clit.

“Fuck, Dew... So good...” you whined; Dew’s grip on your ass tightened, his nails burning into the bruises still littering your skin. By now the pain of the bruises didn’t bother you so much, only heightening the depravity you found yourself in. Your mind wondered over the last few days, how you’d been used and fucked every single day in the filthiest ways. You’d tried things you never had before, surprised yourself with new kinks and confidence and allowed yourself the freedom to sleep with whoever aroused you at the time. You’d never felt so empowered...

The memories served to drive you mad with arousal, wanting nothing more than to cum again on Dew’s tongue. Once again, you found yourself close to an end, rutting your hips against his chin. The movement of your hips created short, small ripple-effect moments through your body that were enough to give Swiss a little bit of friction, cock still wrapped up in your hand. He hummed in delight, pressing his lips to yours in a messy kiss.

“How does she taste, Dew?” he called down to his friend, knowing full well he wouldn’t asnwer with words. Dew growled again, lost in his own greed. He needed more of you, all of you. Your taste was sending him on a straight road to insanity. “Good, it seems...” he smiled sadistically.

Dew was becoming feral behind you as you rutted against his chin. His tongue dove into you, the nose of his mask adding to your pleasure and winding your coil back up once again until you lost it... You cried out against Swiss’ chest, your hand squeezing his length between the two of you earning a hiss and groan of pleasure. You felt your pussy convulsing, a wave of fresh arousal briefly squirting from you to land on Dew’s tongue as he slurped and drank everything you gave him.

Dew delivered a spank to your ass as he sat up, licking his lips and wiping his chin of your mess.

“Unholy fuck, did you squirt on him?” Swiss asked, amazed as you lay on him, catching your breath. You just giggled in response, words failing you. “Shit, I wanna make you do that...”

“Then... you’ll... need to fuck me, first...” you taunted between breaths.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he kissed you again, reaching between you both to take his cock from you, only to line it up with your entrance and slowly, begin to push inside you.

Dew watched on from behind you, slowly undressing himself as he watched Swiss’ cock sink further and further into you. He was surprised at himself, so turned on watching another man sink into where he had just been burying his tongue and fingers. He thought he might feel possessive, jealous even, but he wanted nothing more than to see you fall apart on his friend. He was enjoying this...

When Swiss bottomed out, he couldn’t help but whimper at the feeling. You felt so warm, so wet around him. Thanks to Dew’s work, you had been able to quickly accommodate him, slick enough to take him without any issues. You sat up, pressing your palms to his chest and rolling your hips against him. Immediately, pleasure returned and that spot inside you fluttered when he grazed it. You needed him, you needed more. Always more, more, more...

Swiss’s hips met yours, rolling against you over and over. He watched where the two of you connected, seeing his cock disappearing over and over, glistening with your juices. In the space between your thighs and his cock, he could vaguely make out Dew behind you, now completely nude and stroking himself in time with his thrusts.

“Fuck...” Swiss breathed, turned on at the sight. “Hey, hey baby...” he tapped at your cheek, getting you to open your eyes you’d closed in bliss and look down at him, “Think Dew needs a hand...”

You looked behind you, seeing Dew completely nude save for his mask, and fucking into his fist much like Copia had been at your feet yesterday. And you got an idea...

“This isn’t fair...” you whined, slapping a hand down against Swiss’ chest in protest. You stopped moving your hips but he continued for the both of you, refusing to stop.

“W-what?” he asked.

“Want more... Want you both,” you whimpered, reaching behind you to stroke at Dew’s cock. He shivered at the contact, and the thought of being buried in you like Swiss was. He wanted you too...

“B-both of us? Like...” Swiss stuttered, now stilling his hips reluctantly.

“Inside me, together. Fuck, I need it... Please?” you begged, looking between them both. The Ghouls looked past you and at each other, seeming to have a silent conversation while you waited impatiently. The thought of having both of them inside you; it both scared and excited you. Were you sure you could take them both? Would it hurt? Maybe they wouldn’t be comfortable with it?

“Dew, if you’re not comfortable man, I get it...” Swiss reasoned; in his mind, he was more than happy to oblige. His cock even twitched at the thought, which came as a surprise to him. He’d never been in such close proximity to another man sexually but he wasn’t opposed to the idea in the slightest.

Dew gave Swiss a look, paired with a slight twist of his head and started to slowly, once again, stroke himself; confirming that the idea was enough to interest him.

“Shit, okay... okay, yeah. You think you can take us, baby?” Swiss’ attention came back onto you.

“With the right prep,” you smirked, looking back at Dew. “Will you help, Dew?”

He nodded in understanding, his hand sliding between your ass cheeks and further down, until his fingertips met where you sat impaled on Swiss’ cock. Swiss watched intently, his body twitching when Dew’s fingertips came into contact with his shaft. Slowly, Dew pushed in one finger as Swiss pushed himself in too, using the movement to aid the stretch of added girth. You saw fucking stars...

“Sathanas...” you squealed, and the two stilled in panic. “No, no... don’t stop. It’s good... so fucking good,” you reassured, and the two men continued... In and out, over and over while you got slicker, messier for both of them like your body knew what was coming and wanted nothing more than to get you there.

Before long, Dew attempted to push another digit in, and slowly but surely, he managed to do the same. Your body was accommodating them both nicely, nothing too rushed, still just slow and gentle. The look on Swiss’ face was a picture, screwed up in his attempts to remain focussed, to not burst into a fit of rutting as hard and fast as he possibly could with how good it felt to be sheathed inside you and have Dew’s fingers pressed against him.

When you were ready, Dew added a third finger, stretching you to a point you most certainly never had before. His wrist ached at the angle, and so he pushed gently on your shoulder until you leaned over, hovering above Swiss and giving him much better access. The new position somehow made it easier on you too, spreading your legs further to accommodate both intrusions.

“I... I think I’m ready,” you said once Dew and Swiss had made sure to slowly push inside as deep as possible while you shivered and spasmed at the feeling. “Please, Dew...”

“He’s coming baby, just a little longer, okay? Wanna be sure...” Swiss reassured, peppering kisses to your neck where he lay. You nodded, letting them work you open a little longer, your slick gathering between them both and creating an easier glide as the seconds passed. Eventually, they were satisfied you were prepared.

Dew looked over your shoulder to Swiss, checking in one final time that he was still okay with this. Swiss just smirked back at him, uttering a “Go ahead, Dew.”

To make the initial entry easier on you, Swiss pulled himself out when Dew’s fingers left you. Dew used that same hand to coat himself in arousal, and finally, the two of them lined up beside each other, their tips just barely grazing and yet... Both of them gasped at the touch. The sound didn’t escape you; and by the look on Swiss’ face, it was certainly a pleasant experience.

Slowly, the two of them pressed into you, sliding gently to fill you together. Dew’s hands gripped your hips, nails digging into the flesh while Swiss squeezed at your thighs, both having to restrain themselves. For you, the feeling of being stretched and filled to your limits was so damn good, you moaned so wantonly that it vibrated through your body and reached them both, tormenting them until eventually they bottomed out together.

“Shit, Dew... You good, man?” Swiss cried, unable to tear his eyes away from where both their cocks pressed tightly against each other inside you. He missed Dew’s frantic nodding, but at the lack of protest he knew he was safe to continue.

They began to build a leisurely pace, moving together in sync and dragging themselves over your g-spot in unison. All you could do was grip onto Swiss’ biceps for dear life, and try not to fall apart where you knelt. You’d never been pushed to this limit before, never taken so much at once but with their careful preparation they had managed to make it as easy as possible for you.

“More... Please, want more,” you hummed, desperate for a faster pace, something rougher and more punishing. You wanted another fucking orgasm... Sure enough, greed had overtaken you.

“Greedy girl,” Swiss growled, beginning to rock a little faster, mismatching his pace with Dew. Dew tried to keep up, but fell a little behind in rhythm. Surprisingly, that felt better than them both being in sync... Now, they were both hitting your g-spot, one after the other, in a similar rhythm to a heartbeat.

You were crying out to both of them, expletives and wild moans between mutterings of their names filling the air around you to a backdrop of slick and sloppy noises as both men fucked into you, harder and harder... Dew couldn’t help his own moans, surrounded by you and Swiss at the same time, a whole new feeling he’d never experienced but unholy shit it felt incredible. He didn’t know another cock against his own could feel like this, never knew how much he’d love this.

Swiss was thinking much the same, enjoying the drag of Dew’s hardness against his own. Both Ghouls were losing their minds inside you. Swiss released his grip on your thighs in search of Dew’s instead, pulling him closer, needing more of him in some form... Dew dropped one of his hands then, able to hold onto both him and you as the two kept pounding into you.

“D-Dew... Oh, shit, why does this feel – ahhh – so good?” Swiss cried, throwing his head back into the couch. Dew roared behind you, curling his body to press against your back and sandwiching you between the sweaty bodies either side of you. You moved a little to the side, to give them room to get closer to each other, something you could sense they definitely needed while they rutted into you with reckless abandon.

“C-can I kiss you, Dew? Fuck man, I don’t know, need more...” he pleaded through grit teeth. Dew pushed himself harder against you both and met Swiss in a bruising kiss neither man had seen coming when this all began. But it felt right, it felt good.

Your head lay on Swiss’ chest, watching the two of them making out as their cocks filled and stretched you. It was all so much, a kind of bliss you’d never encountered. You could feel your end coming quickly, tearing through you as they resigned themselves to the mercy of the other. You gave them no warning, unable to fathom a sentence when a third burst of pleasure soared through your body.

If Swiss wanted you to squirt for him, he’d certainly got his wish. You gushed on the pair of them, violently shaking at the force of your orgasm. The two of them broke their kiss and Swiss lost his mind, feeling your cunt flooding him.

“Fucking hell, I gotta cum... I can’t hold this anymore. Dew, do you mind? Can I cum inside her?” You heard him babble as your brain clouded, coming down slowly while you convulsed and spasmed. You absolutely didn’t mind if he did, but would Dew? He was still buried in you too, after all...

But Dew chuckled breathlessly and tightened his grip on Swiss’ hand, leaning in to kiss him again. He kept his pace up; a sure-fire way of making sure Swiss came inside you, and in turn, on him.

It didn’t take him long once he got confirmation, stilling deep inside you, pressed against your cervix as his cum spilled from his cock and coated not only your walls, but Dew’s shaft too. He jumped and pulsed, desperate howls lost to Dew’s kiss. Dew kept going, slower than before but still rutting against Swiss and sending ripples of a dull buzz through you while it served to prolong Swiss’s end.

Spent and exhausted, Swiss lay back, letting his limbs drop to the couch for a moment before he curled them around you, holding you to him still inside you. He wouldn’t remove himself yet, not while Dew was still plunging into you. He felt his spend dripping down his own length and gathering at the base of both his and Dew’s cocks and pictured what that would look like, smiling to himself dumbly as he enjoyed the overstimulation.

Behind you, Dew had sat back up on his knees to get a better look and yes, Swiss had been right. Where Dew still rocked into you, Swiss’ spend was leaking and mixing with your own. It was the filthiest thing Dew had ever seen, and it shoved him violently into an orgasm of his own, stilling deep inside you like Swiss just had with a strangled roar.

“Fuck, fill her up, Dew...” Swiss encouraged him, talking him through his orgasm as if speaking words that Dew couldn’t. “She needs you, Dew. Fill. Her. Up.” He spat through grit teeth, while Dew’s cock slid against his own and pushed him into oversensitivity. Dew did as he was told, emptying his load into you.

The three of you lay atop each other, spent and exhausted. Neither Ghoul made a move to pull out of you just yet, regaining some strength and regulating their heart rates before they could even think of moving. So, you lay squashed between the two, blissfully floating in euphoria.

“Well, uh... Satan be damned, that was... different,” Swiss laughed, still partially breathless.

“Felt so good, guys... You’ve no idea,” you hummed, affectionately reaching behind you to pat at Dew’s hand on top of Swiss’.

“For us too, sweetheart. Can’t believe you’re a squirter...” You swatted his chest weakly with a dumb smile, earning a chuckle from Dew. “Just wish I coulda tasted that... Dew seemed to enjoy you,” he sighed. He had hoped to taste you at some point, but things had moved in a different direction before he could and he was happy to just go with the flow, give you what you wanted.

And then, he got an idea.

“Hey, sweetheart?” he asked timidly. You raised your head from his chest with a quiet “hmm?”, waiting for whatever he wanted to ask. “Is that the most orgasms you’ve had in one sitting?” he asked, curiously.

“Well, I’ve had three in one before but yes, never more than three. Gets kinda sensitive...” you laughed, settling back on his chest, content to lay there in peace with Dew.

“Well... the first two were mostly just Dew. I never got to give you one of my own,” he pouted. “You think you could take one more?”

Your head popped back up, looking into Swiss’ eyes and thinking over his proposition. You certainly did feel sensitive, but the idea intrigued you. Could you take another? You weren’t sure, but you’d be willing to let him try...

“Um... maybe?” you questioned. Swiss smirked.

“Hey Dew, would it be... just terrible... if I made sure our darling Sister of Sin was sufficiently cleaned up? I think we’ve made a mess...” he chewed on his lip, waiting for an indication from the silent Ghoul behind you.

Dew sat up then, removing himself from you and taking a look at the mess the three of you had indeed made. He checked back in with Swiss, nodding.

“Ah, so we did make a mess. Well, sweetheart, I'd like to offer my cleaning services,” he smirked cheekily.

“I think that’s only fair...” you quipped.

Swiss sat up, still holding you to him but transferring your weight back onto the couch cushion as he carefully removed himself from you too. You did your best to contract your walls, holding whatever you could inside you for the moment. Now, you sat upright, legs hanging over the edge of the couch and slouched lazily against Dew’s bare chest beside you. Swiss stood up, removing the pants that still clung to his legs by his knees, and then took up a position between your thighs, hooking your legs over his shoulders.

He looked down at your core, and could see the mess they’d made; covered in slick, cum and puffed up from the relentless pounding. You looked delectable.

Swiss dove in, gently at first, with his tongue lapping around your core instead of directly centre. You still writhed at the pleasure of it, enjoying the feeling as he tasted the mixture of the three of you on his tongue. Beside you, you felt Dew’s chest tense, his eyes intently trained on Swiss’ disappearing tongue. This was turning him on again, and he was yet to soften from the sex itself... With a little fuel left in the tank, he began to stoke his length, hissing at the sensitivity.

As Swiss’ tongue dragged over your clit for the first time, you naturally clenched, a small amount of the cum you held inside you slipping out. Swiss dove in to catch it on his tongue, careful to make sure Dew saw it sat there before he swallowed it down. He’d never done anything like this before and part of him worried Dew would find it disgusting, to eat both his and Dew’s cum from you but now Dew’s hand moved quicker, he knew it was having the opposite effect.

He hummed in satisfaction at the taste, continuing to assault your clit with his tongue and every so often having to clean up another small amount you’d involuntarily released when things got too sensitive. Dew kept stroking himself, his hips jumping if he spent too long on his sensitive tip. You wanted badly to help him, but there was no strength to lift your arms by your sides.

Vaguely, the pleasure began to stack up again... you were no longer unsure if you could reach a fourth orgasm; you knew you could. Swiss would just need to be gentle – and somehow, he understood that.

“Dew, I can’t lie, man... we taste good together,” he teased, watching as Dew bit his lip. “You wanna try?” he snickered. Dew nodded emphatically.

Swiss brought his fingers up to your centre, pushing them easily inside given you’d not long had two decent sized cocks inside you, and gathered the rest of what you were keeping on them. Then he raised them to Dew’s lips, who bent to meet him halfway, and sucked the mess off them.

Swiss held his fingers up for him as he dove back into your core, now focussing his attention solely on your clit. You whined tiredly at the sensitivity, but shit, you were close again after watching the display beside you. Dew’s hand sped significantly, making sure he sucked every last drop of cum from Swiss’ fingers. He groaned as a second orgasm came closer; he had wanted to wait for your last orgasm to cum with you, but that was looking unlikely now. He just needed a release again.

He fell back against the couch as his cock spurted another load, clearer this time and far less than he’d emptied into you, but it felt good enough that he rolled his eyes back and had to drop his hand from the overstimulation while his hips bucked out of control.

Swiss giggled into your core, suckling at your clit a little harder and enjoying the noises you were making. You barely recognised yourself, squealing so highly in overstimulation as your body went stiff, letting his tongue work you over and over until finally, you crashed for one last time.

Dew caught you as your body slid to the side and into his chest, holding you and shushing you as you hiccupped in a much quieter orgasm than before, too spent and broken for anything too powerful. Your thighs pushed Swiss’ head away as they came together, shielding you from any more overstimulation. He sat back on his heels, pleased with his work as he licked the remnants of you, himself and Dew from his chin. Quietly, you came down again in Dew’s arms, your body jolting with short little bursts of electricity until you finally stilled.

Four orgasms had taken its toll on you, and whilst the last of them hadn’t been as earth shattering as the first three, it still left you exhausted and weak. Swiss and Dew could see it in you, and allowed you to curl up into them for a while so you could relax, rest up, and get the aftercare you needed from them both.

The Ghouls spent the rest of the day with you, having cleaned you up – properly, this time. With an actual shower... – and taken good care of you. Swiss had made you some food, something healthier for the three of you than the junk he’d thrown together last time, and the pair of them just stayed put all day, mostly in a relaxing silence as you watched whatever was on the TV.

You appreciated that – your head was too busy for conversation, exhausted but still hurting. But there were no expectations to play hostess to the guests in your apartment, nor to divulge the mess of emotions in your mind. If you wanted to talk to them about it all, you would. They felt that.

But you remained in your own head. You thought over the events of yesterday, of the whole week. You re-read Papa’s note in your mind over and over. You stewed over the thought of him caring for you much less than you’d thought, if his display in his office yesterday was anything to go by...

It all hurt.

It wasn’t until Dew wiped a tear from your cheek that you even knew you’d been crying. He gave you a look; one that asked what was wrong without having said the words. You weren’t sure why Dew was a mute Ghoul, but you were glad that it never seemed to be a problem for him. People understood what he was thinking quite easily; most of the time it was ‘what the fuck are you looking at?’ but they understood him all the same... He wasn’t a people person, but you were kind to him; a friend. And so, he cared when he saw you silently crying beside him.

“N-nothing, Dew. I’m good,” you lied. Your voice caught Swiss’ attention then, who also saw the tears.

“You can tell us, ______. I’m not gonna tell anyone and, well... neither’s Abu over here,” he joked, slapping Dew’s shoulder as he compared him to the silent, grunting monkey from Aladdin. Dew slapped him back on the back of the head. That earned him a smile from you; goal achieved.

“I just... Have you ever thought of someone in a certain way, and then... they’ve proved you wrong?” you asked them.

“Well, I thought Dew was straight. Think he proved me wrong today,” he laughed. You did too, appreciating that he was trying to make you smile when you needed it. “But that’s not what you mean, is it?”

You shook your head no, smile slipping away.

“You’re talking about Papa.”

You nodded.

“I suppose he just... maybe I got too wrapped up in all this,” you sighed, wiping another fresh tear away. Dew’s arm tightened around your shoulders. “Probably should have known that ‘the great Papa Emeritus the Third’ wouldn’t see me as anything more than a notch on his bedpost. Feel stupid now, thinking I’d actually started feeling something for him...” you laughed, no humour behind it at all.

“Don’t shoo your feelings away just because he’s devoid of them. You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel, they’re no less real just because he doesn’t reciprocate. Feelings can be dealt with, Sister,” he assured. Strangely, his words felt quite affirming.

“I just thought he cared...” your voice cracked with more tears, a lump in your throat forming you forced to swallow.

“You’re part of his congregation, so I think he does care. But... maybe not exactly how you’d hoped, no...” Swiss took your hand and squeezed it. “Listen, you have one more day. One more sin to complete, and then you can figure out with the Dark One what your next steps are. Ask him about Papa, if you need to. I don’t know if it’s a ‘you only get three questions’ kind of situation, but I’m sure he can help. At the very least, I'm sure he can give you a purpose that will take your mind off Papa entirely.”

You hummed in agreement. Just one more day. How you’d achieve what you needed in that one day, you weren’t sure, but you had the willpower and the tenacity to find something.

“Big day for you tomorrow. Final sin, the All Hallow’s Ball, a date with Lucifer...” he smirked, winking down at you.

“Oh, shit... the ball. I forgot about that,” you sighed.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Just... gotta see Papa,” and Christine, too... awkward. “I think I’d rather not.” Swiss nodded in understanding.

“Non-negotiable though, isn’t it?” he asked, and you nodded back, “Don’t worry, Dew and I will be there. You can dance with us.”

“Sure, I’d like that,” you smiled between them both.

Whilst Swiss’ little pep-talk hadn’t exactly exterminated the sadness that welled up in you now that you’d admitted your feelings towards Papa weren’t strictly platonic, he had at least eased some of the anxiety in your mind about what to do with them.

Feelings could be dealt with; that was his most important advice, yet. No matter how long it might take, they could be dealt with. You could get through that, and Papa essentially cutting you off here was probably for the best. At least you didn’t have to worry about more nights with him, and those feelings growing exponentially harder to ignore. What you needed to focus on right now, was completing this ritual.

One more day. One more sin.

And a date with Lucifer.

Prev: Day 5 - Envy | Next: Day 7: Pride

A/N: And so, one more sin, and potentially only one more chapter... I'm working on writing it today - there's SO MUCH to put into it, so please bear with me. I may have to upload it in two halves if I can't finish it in time for tomorrow (I've been so busy with work, and Ghostcon over the weekend too!)

A huge thank you to @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading, and @adinferix for fine tuning the Italian translations! 🖤

Tag list:

@call-me-little-sunshine84 @thew0man @zombiesnips-blog @ghuleh-recs @popiaswife @anamelessfool @enchantedbunny @haelithra @aslutforgreyhair @togetherasone @lilylovesdew @copias-sewer-rat @copiaspet622 @deetz-ghuleh @loudwombatmugkid @nimbusghoul @portaltothevoid @angellayercake @sodoswitchimage @siouxbauhaus @lydz1977-blog @bitchywitchygardener @sacrificialsake @the-did-i-ask @ghostfangirlsweden @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @copiasprincipessa @gothicwonderlust @ladymer @ghulehunknown @onlyhereforghost @solluna00 @nijiru

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ghu-leh · 9 months ago

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Late night tender moments - Secondo Emeritus:

The warm feeling of his kitchen, as he prepares a meal. The smell of the boiling pasta, simmering tomato sauce, and spices fill the air. Banter and little quips come and go between the two of you, as he guides you through his cooking process. As he puts the finishing touches on the two dishes, you sit on the countertop while your eyes take him in. You have never loved him as much as you did right in this moment.

A warm kiss exchanged in the garden late at night. Nature is quiet, and the ministry is asleep. The only sound you hear now is his voice, his breath. He firmly yet gently holds your waist, before tenderly placing a kiss on your lips. As you process the heat that now comes alive within you; the cool, calm wind of the night envelopes you. A contradiction that only happens in his presence.

The soft sound of the running sink awakens you, before you are welcomed by his scent. The silky bed sheets felt nice against your figure, but someone was missing. You sluggishly get off the bed, dragging your feet as you approached his restroom. You find him shaving his stubble, carefully grooming himself before he shoots a glance in your direction. Then a smile. Memories of your shared intimacy come flooding in. In the reflection of his mirror, you faintly see the marks on your neck that he left last night.

A flickering candlelight dances around in his room late at night, while he reads a book. You turn around in an attempt to conceal sleep, but give up as you look at him. "È tardi, piccolina" he adds distractedly, while he turns the page. "You are one to talk". He lets out a soft, rumbling chuckle at your little observation, before holding you closer to him. "Cattiva, cattiva..." His voice soothes you. His embrace ends up doing the trick, and you quickly fall asleep in his arms.

A slow dance shared in the privacy of his chambers. His piercing eyes adoringly look into yours, while you softly sway from side to side to the rhythm of the music that comes from his record player. You smile brightly, your eyes never leaving his. Not many words are exchanged, only glances that reveal shared longing. You rest your head against his chest, and as he continues guiding you through his dance, your senses focus on his heartbeat. You feel your body relax and all tensions dissipate, carried away by his touch.

#the band ghost #ghost the band #Papa Emeritus II #Papa Emeritus Secondo #Secondo #II #Secondo x reader #Papa Emeritus II x reader #i don't know what this is i just feel kinda sentimental tonight #like.. do you ever miss a fictional character? yeah #like that #Secondo to me feels warm and cold at the same time.. i just ;;; tobias forge #thank you for your OCs #ghuleh writes

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writingjourney · 10 months ago

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Of Lemon Tarts and Tiny White Rabbits

Secondo, Earl of Griftwood, cannot believe his eyes when a tiny white rabbit scampers into his study. He is stunned even more when he meets the lovely owner of the pet – and promptly falls in love.

pairing: secondo x female!reader // regency AU

content: 4.6k words, regency AU (not 100% historically accurate but I tried), pov third person, forbidden romance, age gap, first kisses, social hierarchies, mildly suggestive at times, soft!secondo, pining and yearning etc., wingman terzo

This is a birthday present for the lovely @tasty-ribz , also special thanks to @angellayercake for encouraging me to bring Snowbell into this story ✨🐰

Masterlist – Ao3 link

The curtains sway gently in the soft breeze that carries a fragrant spring air into his study. Secondo lifts his gaze to take in the lovely view through the open double doors which lead to a balcony and the well-kept gardens of Emeritus Manor. Lush rose bushes climb up the stone walls and wrap around the railings, dark green speckled with the pink of countless flowers. Somewhere in the trees the birds break out in song, their melodic chirping a pleasant background noise that accompanies him as he maintains his correspondence.

After this short reprieve for his eyes, he dips the quill back into the black pot of ink on his bureau. A few more letters and he can settle outside in the shade for his afternoon tea, perhaps even indulge and allow himself a lemon tart to go with it. He can’t remember hiring a new cook and yet he swears the smell of freshly baked pastries has filled the halls of the estate more frequently as of late, their taste tempting even him who is usually not one for desserts.

A movement in his peripheral vision distracts him momentarily but when he looks up there is nothing unusual to be seen. Secondo watches the curtains, assuring himself that it must have been the wind playing tricks on him. With a frown on his face, he focuses back on his letters. After a moment, however, he glances back up, suddenly sensing a presence in the room. When he still cannot detect anything out of the ordinary, he assumes that it must have been a ghost wandering the old halls of the manor – it would not be the first time.

Over the scratching sounds of his quill he almost misses the tiny squeak that passes his ears only a moment later. A mouse? No ghosts that haunt him after all. He lets his eyes roam the walls that are lined with bookshelves, trying to spot any scurrying movements on the elaborately patterned rug that muffles the sound. At last, he glances down to his feet and surprise takes over his stern features.

A white baby rabbit sits next to his shoe, its tiny pink nostrils moving rapidly as it sniffs the leather with utmost interest. The creature cannot be bigger than his palm. Where could it possibly come from? As far as he is aware, they do not keep any rabbits, let alone breed them.

“Snowbell?” The voice that suddenly sounds from the balcony is soft and melodic, a young woman he cannot quite place. “Snowbell, where did you go?”

Her figure appears in the frame a mere moment later and she flinches back when she spots Secondo at his desk through the open doors. She immediately averts her eyes, her hair falling into her face and covering her features.

“Please, forgive me for the disturbance, my lord.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he replies. “I understand you are looking for this little troublemaker here?”

Secondo leans down to pick up the rabbit. Indeed it fits neatly into his gloved palm and he regrets that he cannot feel the soft fur against his fingers. The bunny breathes rapidly, its small body excited or scared, he cannot quite tell.

“Oh, you found her! Thank the lord, I thought she was lost forever.”

“Will you relieve me of her, then? She seems quite restless.”

The young woman who he cannot remember seeing before cautiously enters and with a lowered gaze approaches his desk. Secondo admires her for a moment, her striking complexion and the mesmerising way with which hair shimmers in the golden sunlight. Young and innocent, the daughter of a servant perhaps if the state of her dress is any indication. Yet it does not diminish her beauty nor her youthful radiance; he can tell that she is perhaps five-and-twenty.

She reaches for the bunny and he hands it over the desk, feeling her fingers brushing against his. Again he regrets the barrier between his skin and the world around him but even so he can tell that the heat has risen to her cheeks. She does not seem to be used to the presence of her superiors. He’s well aware of his reputation as a rather reserved and intimidating employer.

“I am not certain that I know your name,” he says before she can scurry off, skittish like the tiny animal that appears a little taller now in her smaller hands.

She replies with her name and a curtsy, not quite lady-like in practice but Secondo can tell that she must have enjoyed a good upbringing. Perhaps she has experience working for nobility.

“Where do you belong to, my girl?”

“I am François’s daughter, my lord.”

“Ah, sì, the new gardener?”

“Yes, my lord.”

He nods, watching her pet the rabbit with her slender fingers as if to calm herself. “And how do you like it here?”

“It is extraordinarily beautiful, my lord. The estate is magnificent and I quite enjoy the work in the kitchens.”

“The kitchens? So it is you who prepares these scrumptious lemon tarts?”

She nods, smiling a bit shyly. “It is a French recipe, my lord. My mother taught me how to make it when I was a wee girl and she worked for the Earl of Carlisle.”

“Are there any lemon tarts today, per chance?”

“I made a fresh batch just this morning, my lord.”

“Wonderful. Now, bring your Snowbell to safety before she scuttles away again.”

“Thank you most kindly, my lord. I promise to be more careful when I take her outside.”

He watches the young woman’s retreating form, reminding himself not to covet what he should not have. It is quite hard at the sight of such a sublime creature, though he rarely allows himself to indulge in thoughts of his carnal desires. The way she takes care of the animal tells him that she has a kind soul and how he could he ever taint it with his rotten hands?

Secondo stands to take his afternoon tea, looking forward to a generous serving of the fresh lemon tarts. He closes the balcony doors before he departs, his correspondence quite forgotten.

✦ ✧ ✦

He is too absorbed in his brother’s letter to notice the music at first.

When he finally does Secondo stops in the middle of the hallway. Rarely does he hear such sweet sounds these days, busy with politics and finances as he is. Ever since inheriting his father’s title as the Earl of Griftwood he is subjected to ball music, loud opera pieces and the talentless daughters of the other lords of the ton.

This subdued private concert is much more to his liking.

He folds the letter and pockets it before investigating the source of the music. Primo has written to him from Italy where his clerical duties keep him occupied. Secondo is relieved to learn that his brother is in good health and filling his new role as the leader of their secret church for which he has forsaken his role as the head of their family. A title that has now fallen to Secondo.

Following the trail of the music carries him further down the hall until he stops in front of a double door that stands slightly ajar. The sitting room beyond is abandoned safe for the person who has taken up residence behind the pianoforte and is now delighting the house with their pleasant tunes. Secondo is not one to swoon but when he discovers the gardener’s daughter, watching as her fingers glide over the keys in an elegant dance, he is quite taken with the sight of her.

It is only after quite some time that he spots the rabbit in her lap.

The piece ends all too soon but Secondo cannot bring himself to reveal his position. He watches on as she lifts Snowbell and places her tiny paws on the keys, playing an easy melody as she giggles and compliments her pet’s musical talent. He thinks that the snow white rabbit is an emblem of her most becoming properties – her soft and lovely presence, her gentle disposition and ethereal beauty. Two creatures that heaven must have forged together. Not for a moment does he think he could ever be worthy of her, no matter if his nobility raises him above her in this strict society. She transcends the rules of birthright and social rank, rules that he has always rejected, if not openly. Perhaps this is why he feels so drawn to her – she represents all that he has ever longed for, all that they strive to achieve with their church of Lucifer.

“I did not know we had a musician in the house,” he finally comments. “Or need I say two musicians?”

She jumps, again, startled by his domineering presence that takes over the room the moment he steps inside. After a few deep breaths she recovers and offers a polite greeting. Snowbell sits in her hand now, no bigger than a baby chick and just as restless. Her head rises as if to greet him as well, tiny button eyes shimmering not without mischief.

“Your brother told me it was alright for me to practice in here and that it is his instrument–”

“I am sorry, my dove, I did not mean to accuse you of anything untoward. Of course you may practice your music in here. We have been deprived of such beautiful sounds for way too long with no ladies in the house.”

Her shoulders sink in relief, the tension finally leaving her. “I hear that his lordship is quite a gifted musician himself. As are his brothers.”

“Ah, sì, sì, if only there was more time for it. I find that without pleasant company I cannot persuade myself to dedicate the time.” He steps further inside the room and takes a seat on one of the velvet settees, moderately close to where she’s now lowering herself back on her stool. His black breeches strain over his thighs and he adjusts his emerald green waistcoat that has ridden up, rights the knot in his cravat. “You play well, piccina. How did you come to master the pianoforte?”

“I may not be of noble upbringing, my lord, but my parents used all their means to ensure that I was educated, perhaps more than befits my station.” Her voice is sharp, not unfriendly but defensive nonetheless. “A person’s rank in society does not determine their talent for musical play.”

“I apologise if I offended your sensibilities, my dove. I did not mean to imply that your origin should have anything to do with your capability of learning an instrument.”

“No apologies are needed, my lord. It is true that such opportunities are not provided to many of my status. I cherish my privileges every day.”

Her eloquence and quick wit impress him, the dignified countenance with which she holds herself even in the face of an older man much above her in station. It would be easy to think that she is a noble lady, if it weren’t for her lack of fine clothing and jewellery. He fights off the urge to accoutre her, to dress her in the finest garments he can find in all of London and Paris or Rome. How lovely she would look with her hair done up, her slender neck exposed for his eyes alone.

And not just for his eyes.

Before he can inquire any further, Snowbell suddenly leaps from her lap. The rabbit lands on the soft carpet and scampers over towards the settee on her tiny legs.

“Oh, not again Snowbell,” the girl laments, but then she notices the rabbit’s direction and smiles softly. “I suppose she has taken a liking to you, my lord.”

“I hope she is not the only one,” he counters, allowing himself this moment of reverie.

Flustered, she averts her gaze, reacting in much the same way that he hoped she would. “Who could not be taken with him when his lordship is so very generous and kind of heart?”

Secondo smiles to himself as he leans down to pick up the cheeky rabbit, removing one of his dark leather gloves to finally feel the softness of her fur. “How did you come in possession of such an animal?” he finds himself asking. “She is quite unusual, no?”

“Oh, my father was engaged to work for another noble house in the city just before we came here and he found a nest in their garden. Snowbell was the only white rabbit of the litter. While the children of the house were allowed to keep the other rabbits they thought her cursed and wanted to kill her. I begged him to let me save her and bring her here.”

How charitable, he thinks, saving those who are unwanted, those who are abandoned by God, not differentiating between human or beast. How perfectly she would fit into his family whose ideals and values would have them shunned from society if they lived them openly. Perhaps it was not God who sent her but Lucifer himself. For him to love, to cherish, to worship.

He is aware that he is getting ahead of himself.

Snowbell allows him to pet her but he eventually stands to place the rabbit back in her saviour’s hands. This time, her fingers brush against the bare skin of his palm. A shiver runs through him, tingling down his spine before settling warmly in his lower belly.

Her heated cheeks are evidence that she feels the same way.

“Do you enjoy reading, my girl?” he asks, only now noticing the book she must have placed on the instrument. A romance novel, he notes, not without a hint of disappointment. He could not be any more different from the heroes of such tales if he tried.

“I do, my lord.” She cradles Snowbell gently against her bosom, almost protectively, and he has to tear is his eyes away from the soft skin there. “I am an avid reader when I do find the time.”

“Please, feel free to use my personal library at your convenience. I am sure that you are in want of new reading material. This book appears to be… well-loved.”

“Are you quite certain, my lord? I would not want to impose–”

“Oh, nonsense. Many of the books have been collecting dust for way too long.”

Perhaps this suggestion stems from him wanting her to frequent his spaces and not those of his brother, if only to raise his chances of running into her. If Terzo offered her his instrument then he is sure that his eyes are not the only ones that she has caught. Secondo shares many a thing with his brother, but he will not share her.

“Thank you, my lord,” she says. “I am not sure what I have done to deserve your generosity but I shall cherish it forever.”

“Hm, your services are well-appreciated, my dove. I merely wish to make your life here a little more pleasant.”

She giggles. “His lordship must really like the lemon tarts.”

Her laughter shakes him to his very core. He is tempted to smile, or to tell her that it is not the tarts that have captivated him, but all this foolish impulse does is distort his stern features into a grimace. Before her eyes can linger on him, he departs with quick steps and a racing heart, making sure to leave the door open.

A few moments later the soft tunes of her music accompany him back to his study.

✦ ✧ ✦

The rustling of the page is a steady noise in the background as he works away at the desk he strategically positioned in his library. The expense reports of the estate are all in order and yet he goes over them once more – if only to stretch out the time in her presence.

He looks up to find Snowbell happily munching on a carrot in her little crate on the floor. His true heart’s desire, however, is reading a romance novel that he so graciously stocked the library with. Not that anyone will ever see a report of this particular expense.

“Are the new books to your liking, my dove?” he finds himself asking.

“They are quite enjoyable, my lord.” She looks up, marking her page before she closes the book. “And yet… I find that I do not want a love like these books promise. It sounds rather boring to me.”

“How so?”

“The true appeal of a person lies in his or her imperfections, my lord. Not even the finest, most handsome young man could tempt me when there is no flaw in his character that captures my interest. If I should ever fall in love it should be with a man much older who has been shaped by the hardships of life, with rough edges but a core that still carries a soft heart that he only shows to those he holds dear. I should like to uncover this heart and have it beat only for me.”

Secondo pauses for a moment. Could it be true? Could a beautiful young woman like her truly fall for an old man such as himself? Accept that their love would be flawed and rejected by society and love him all the more for it? If it is true what she implies then does he dare hope–

“You are quite different from what I expected, my lord,” she says before his thoughts can carry him away. “I have heard many things that I now know to be untrue.”

“And how so?”

“Everyone told me that you were quiet and rather cold, polite but not in the habit of keeping anyone’s company and while generous with your staff they said it is rare to see you outside of your study. And yet… I have only ever sensed your warmth, your generosity, and while you are a private man I feel as though I got to know you merely by being in the same room and striking up idle conversation. You have requested my presence almost daily as of late and I must admit that I find great comfort in spending my time with you, so much so that I feel sad when a day goes by and I cannot see you.”

Secondo stands abruptly, overwhelmed by the sudden sparks of emotion that ignite the fire in a heart he has long since thought to be withered. His long legs carry him to where she is sitting on a plush settee, the golden sun from the window illuminating her like an angel incarnate. She is a dream he finds himself caught in, and not of his own volition.

“My dove,” he says as he kneels down in front of her, grasping her hand tightly in his. “Your companionship is the greatest gift that I have ever received.”

He presses a fervent kiss to her knuckles, quite overcome with his desires. How he longs to pull her into his embrace, to kiss her plump cheeks and soft lips, to keep her trapped against his chest and stroke her hair for hours.

When he meets her eyes, she seems surprised by his sudden outburst, but not at all repelled like he had feared. “My dear lord, how I wish we could have met under different circumstances.”

Secondo releases a shuddering breath and buries his face in her lap. When she begins to caress his head, running her soft fingers along the sharp lines of his cheekbones, he feels like he wants to weep.

✦ ✧ ✦

The delivery goes smoothly – until his brother appears in the doorway.

“A new instrument?” Terzo asks. “Whatever for? You could have asked to use mine, fratello.”

Secondo grumbles in reply, wishing his brother would finally leave. He is dressed smartly – a dark purple brocade waistcoat with a matching tailcoat, black breeches, a white cravat, high leather boots and a brand new top hat – ready to leave for a picnic or whatever social event he is planning to attend in pursuit of his latest sweetheart. He has always mirrored Secondo’s expensive taste in clothing but decided that his colour was purple instead of green. If it weren’t for Secondo’s lack of hair and Terzo’s thick black locks their brotherly relation would be uncanny, if not a little ridiculous.

“Do you not have to make an appearance somewhere else?” Secondo asks when his brother lingers while they set up the pianoforte under his watchful eyes.

“Oh, I still have enough time to observe my brother’s folly. Tell me, did she bewitch you so that you are wasting the family’s funds now? How exactly do you plan on introducing the gardener’s daughter to polite society, fratello?”

A deep breath. Secondo cannot strangulate him in front of the suppliers. “I do not know what you are talking about. I merely wish to possess an instrument of my own.”

“Mhm and the ornate rabbits carved into the wood? Are those to your taste as well?”

“I am very fond of animals. I quite enjoy the design, do you not find it endearing?”

Terzo merely chuckles in reply, the words altogether unfamiliar from his bother’s tongue, and pats his shoulder with a heavy hand. “I will make sure that the pamphlets are filled with someone else’s transgressions, should you decide that a diversion of the ton’s attention is needed in light of your imminent marriage to a commoner.”

Secondo refuses to argue with him, Terzo is too smart for that. Instead he waits until they are alone again and his brother further inspects the pianoforte. The tunes he lures from the keys are splendid, much richer in sound than any he has heard before. A good investment, Secondo decides.

“What a splendid instrument,” his brother says. “I shall hope that your little rabbit plays it for you on many an occasion.”

“I plan to have her play it for me every day for as long as I live.”

Terzo raises a brow. “So you do intend to propose? My, my! I did not expect you to ever let go of your determination to stay alone for the rest of your days. What has changed?”

“I met the loveliest creature to walk this earthly plane, fratello, I have been touched by her angelic hands and saw the true meaning of paradise. I do not care much what polite society has to say about our union. I am quite ready to be selfish after I sacrificed my freedom for this family.”

“And politics, your favourite subject?”

“I do not plan to advertise this marriage, fratello. I shall be ready to face all the consequences, for her love will carry me through the worst of it.”

“Oh, how you have changed!” Terzo snickers but not unkindly. “I am very happy for you, brother mine. She will make a lovely wife for an old grump such as yourself.”

“You are just as old,” Secondo says dismissively. “And yet you act like a bachelor in the prime of his youth.”

“And I shall continue to do so for as long as I can. If you will excuse me now, I have a rendezvous to attend and I am already late.”

The moment Terzo departs, Secondo allows his own hands to explore the pianoforte. He is quite out of practice but the finely tuned instruments sounds wonderful even under his stiff fingers. An old song finds its way into his head and he allows his memory to do the rest of the work.

When he finally finishes, he is pulled from his trance by the loveliest of voices.

“My lord, you asked for me,” she says timidly as she approaches him. “I do not wish to interrupt when you play such lovely songs.”

“You are not interrupting, my dove. Please, come here, sit down in my stead. This is yours now.”

“Oh, but my lord–” She trails off, her pupils widening at the sight of the brand new instrument.

He is not certain what he did to upset her. “If you would rather play a harp or a lyre–”

“No, no, that is not what I mean, my lord. I just… I am not worthy of such an expensive gift.”

“Oh, but my dove, you are more than worthy. And it is not entirely selfless. I hope I will be hearing your sweet music more often while I am working in here.”

She smiles affectionately. “I shall play for his lordship whenever he wishes. I shall… I shall play until my fingers hurt!”

“I would never allow for this to happen,” he decides, reaching for her hands and massaging them gently in his. “No pain may befall my dearest for as long as I am here to prevent it.”

She holds his gaze, hope shimmering in her irises. “I shall play with caution then, I would not want my lord to be in distress on my behalf. Would you hold Snowbell for me, please?”

Before she sits, she pulls the rabbit from the pocket of her dress where the she must have napped for she perks up sleepily when she is set down in his broad hands. Secondo does not make a move to stand.

“My lord–”

He uses his free hand to pull her into his lap and she gasps before her fingers find the keys. He can feel her shivering against his chest, her breathing as rapid as his heartbeat.

“I am not sure that I can play under his lordship’s scrutiny,” she whispers.

“I am quite certain that you can.”

With another shaky breath she begins to play. Heavenly tunes fill the room, her hands working their magic on the keys of the fine instrument. It is a song he has not heard before, slow and rather quiet but all the more powerful on his emotions. Her confidence soon returns and she plays in the same carefree way that he has grown to enjoy, only this time she is in his space, where she belongs. She is in his arms, breathes the very same air that flows through his lungs, and he can sense that he made the right choice.

The moment her hands come to a stop, he places Snowbell back in her palms and turns her sideways over his lap. Flustered by the proximity she glances down to her hands, only to notice that the rabbit has a white ribbon loosely tied around her body.

“I will ask your father for your hand,” Secondo says bluntly and her eyes widen.

“My lord, that is… it is impossible.”

“It will be possible, if it is your wish as well.”

“But, I am just–”

He stops her, taking her chin between his fingers to force her eyes to meet his. “My dove, I need a clear answer.”

“Yes.”

Overcome with relief he closes the distance and devours her lips in a passionate kiss. She presses against him with the same fervour, though careful not to squash the rabbit in her hand. Her body feels heated underneath the thin fabric of her cheap dress and he vows to have the modiste come the very next day to take her measurements. His hands roam her curves without shame now while he ravishes her, kissing her with a passion that threatens to make his heart burst, unused as it is to such feral emotion. She tugs at his cravat then, and he relents, allowing them both to break away for air.

Her forehead falls against his, their noses brushing as their heavy breaths mingle in the space in between. Suddenly Snowbell squeals in her palm and when they both look down the rabbit leaps from her hand onto the keyboard. As the off-key notes penetrate the room, they both smile. Perhaps they have to hire a different musician for the wedding after all.

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlist – my Ao3 – Join my tag list

#secondo x reader #papa emeritus ii x reader #secondo fanfiction #papa emeritus ii fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #regency au #female reader #reader insert

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cityofmeliora · 2 months ago

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sad, sad Terzo + 'If You Have Ghosts' 🌙

a few nights ago, i realized this anecdote about Nihil teaching Terzo and Secondo was the first time Terzo ever talked about the meaning of 'If You Have Ghosts' and his connection to this song, which absolutely killed me because i then also realized that every time he talked about this song after that, it's like... aw. he learned that from his dad. he really took his stupid dad's music lesson to heart :(

PAPA EMERITUS III: […] But this is something me and my brother were taught by our father. Believe me, there are worse fish in the sea. Yes– Papa’s papa. The grandpapa. You will meet him one day, I promise. And he told us, “As long as you have one thing, it’s okay, y'all. The whispering walls. The spirits around you. The darkness inside.” So he looked at us and said… You know what he said? “If you have ghosts…” Unholy / Unplugged - Baltimore, Maryland, USA (August 22, 2015)

and it's clear that this song is very meaningful to Terzo. like. of course the depressed recluse who spends so much time alone would connect to the song about embracing loneliness and finding comfort in solitude. and this song has an additional personal meaning to Terzo. for him, it is also a song that comforts him when he must accept disappointment and not having the things he wants in life.

PAPA EMERITUS III: We can't always get what we want. You know that, huh? But one thing that can keep you company in a lonely hour… are the ghosts inside. Let them be your friend rather than your enemy. It's that darkness that sometimes makes the person, eh? Lawrence, Kansas, USA (October 5, 2015)

PAPA EMERITUS III: There are so many things that I want in my life. I'm sure there are a few things that you think you are missing, too. I can't have everything. I can have some things– some people. But this is a song that you can find company in yourself. If you have the spirits to communicate with inside, that can keep you warm on a lonely night. It's hard. There are always moments when we are all alone. Don't you forget about that when you are alone. But then maybe this can keep you company. Denver, Colorado, USA (October 17, 2015)

PAPA EMERITUS III: You have a lot of things in your life, huh? We all crave so many things. If we list… in order to feel as if… we all get all these things and then everything will feel better. Ain't that right? I am exactly the same. But I do know one thing… is that if you have the spirits and the demons inside you that causes a little… wreckage. That can be to your favor. Believe me. An empty shell is nothing, so... Chicago, Illinois, USA (October 3, 2015)

PAPA EMERITUS III: This is a song about loneliness. Unfortunately, I think that some of us might know how that feels. Not everybody has a friend who you can share your day and your night together with. Sometimes, there are other things that can keep you company. Those lonely nights. Spirits. The voices in your soul. The whispers in the walls. And that can be good, too–sometimes. Nimes, France (February 10, 2016)

thinking about these quotes is driving me fucking crazy. UGH. Terzo is just a really sad person. it's so obvious from these quotes that Terzo's mental health has been in some very dark places. to me, these are the words of a man who has spent a lot of time alone with some very scary thoughts and survived. and in surviving, he accepted and embraced that darkness as a part of himself. as he says, it's not always a good thing. but he's made peace with it.

#papa emeritus iii #terzo #radley post #the band ghost lore #analysis #headcanon #quotes

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gravehags · 6 months ago

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desinare

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

Rating: Teen

Tags: awwww look it's a pre-relationship fic just like old times, dinner party, reader meeting the papas, reader and copia being awkward little weirdos with baby crushes, papa nihil slander, references to other curator reader fics

Words: 3,784

Summary: Your very kind cardinal friend has invited you for a meal with three Satanic popes. Surely there's a proverb about this.

a/n: i had so so so much fun writing this lmao i didn't realize how much i missed writing them pre-relationship. my beloved nerds.

~~~

“Eh, signorina?”

“Fuck!” you yelp, dropping the stack of folders you were holding in shock. “Shit…sorry Cardinal. How do you move so quietly with all that fabric on?”

“M-many years of practice, heh,” he kicks himself for how stupid he sounds, wringing his hands while you smile kindly up at him as you stoop to pick up your papers.

“Teach me how some time? I’m always falling over myself. I’d love to have even an ounce of your grace.”

He can feel his ears burn as a dopey grin spreads across his face. She complimented you. Now compliment her back. Go on, say something charming, idiota.

“Dancing!” he half-shouts, making you jump. You fucking fool. “I…I mean I learned how…how to be graceful from dancing. Ballet. In my youth.”

You’re making an impressed face now which is worlds better from the look of terror you previously wore when he barked at you like a senile chihuahua.

“The Cardinal is a dancer?” you murmur, eyes glittering, “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“Oh, it’s been years,” he blushes, “this old body doesn’t move the way it used to.”

He swears he sees your eyes flick up and down his form and a tiny smirk lift your lips.

“I don’t buy that for a second, Cardinal.”

Are you flirting with him? You turn to busy herself with organizing your folders but Copia can see the pink tinge at the tips of your ears.

“Do you like bolognese?” he says, once again loud and blunt.

“I…what?”

“My…my fratelli and I - the Papas that is - would very much like to meet you. A-and share a meal with you. If you are interested?”

Your mouth forms a little “o”.

“There’s more than one Papa?” you ask, cocking your head.

“Sì, sì, there is also eh, Papa Emeritus I and Papa Emeritus II, known as Primo and Secondo, respectively. Terzo you already know,” he grumbles, and your lips twitch.

“Three Satanic popes and a Cardinal. Wow…life sure comes at you fast, huh? Never expected this from a job offer.”

“So…is that a yes?”

“No,” you say and Copia’s face falls, “I mean - shit - sorry! A no about the bolognese. I don’t eat red meat. But a definite yes for the dinner, I’d love to meet some more people here! You’re very kind to have invited me.”

“Ah,” he waves his hand dismissively, but a smile still curls his lips, “We don’t get pretty new faces around here very often. It would be our pleasure.”

It doesn’t dawn on him what he said until he sees your lips silently form the damning word and your cheeks light up. Shit, why couldn’t he be normal around you?

“Anyway,” he says, his voice going up a humiliating octave, “would you be available this week? Friday evening, perhaps?”

“It’s a date. I mean–” you look as panicked as he feels at your wording, “--a dinner date. W-with your…with the Papas. And yourself. Sorry, where should I meet you? I’m uh, still familiarizing myself with the abbey. This place is huge.”

“Eh, how about I meet you at your office and I’ll lead the way from there, sì?”

“Sì. I mean, yes. Is there a…should I dress a certain way?”

An image is conjured in his mind of you in a pretty cocktail dress, heels lifting your shapely calves and your decolletage on display—

He shakes his head to rid himself of the vision.

“Uh…dress in whatever is most comfortable. Undoubtedly Secondo will put you to work in the kitchen so–”

“Oh good,” you say, “I mean my culinary talents are uh…definitely lacking but I’d be happy to help and keep busy. Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop, and all that. Well…something like that anyway, I’m not sure if there’s a Satanic version. Anyway I am definitely blabbering on so feel free to ignore…literally everything that just came out of my mouth.”

You’re embarrassed. As if he couldn’t listen to you talk and talk and talk for eternity. He’s about to tell you something to that effect before his brain yanks him away. Bit much for only knowing her a month, fool. Instead he gives you a friendly nod, and bows slightly.

“I’ll eh, see you Friday then yes? At 6:00?”

“Sounds perfect. And…thank you. I don’t remember if I said it or not but thank you for making this place feel like home.”

He feels as if his heart is about to burst from his ribcage.

“Signorina,” he murmurs, “it is my honor. Ciao.”

“Ciao, Cardinal,” you say softly as he turns and exits your office. He doesn’t see the way you collapse into your desk chair with a dreamy sigh.

—

You’re going to be late.

As soon as your work day ended you hustled up to your apartment and began getting ready but it’s now 5:41 and you still have no idea what the fuck you’re going to wear. Half your wardrobe lies scattered on your bedroom floor (you know it’s going to make you insane when you return later that night but fuck you can’t remember what clothes you even own) as you stand in the center of the room in your underwear.

“Okay. Okay you’re going to meet three Satanic popes,” the sentence has a delirious laugh bubbling out of your throat. “Three Satanic popes and one…sweet…handsome…Cardinal. What is the correct choice.”

You eye a snug, knee length burgundy velvet cocktail dress to your left. You’ve been saving this one for a while - for a real special occasion. You would undoubtedly impress but…nah. Too much. To your right is a pair of mom jeans - you pick them up and give them a tentative sniff - acceptably clean. You toss the jeans onto your bed behind you. Okay now for a top. How about…ah! You spy a soft, dark green sweater in a pile and snatch it up. Cozy, comfortable, and practical. Perfect. As for shoes…your well-loved black Chelsea boots should do the trick. You look down at your watch.

5:48

Shit! Almost tripping more than once you jump into your jeans and pull the sweater over your head, tucking it halfway into your waistband. You don’t have the time or the patience to put any makeup on beyond a few swipes of mascara and a dark red lipstick and when you make it out the door with your phone and keys, it’s five to six. You briskly power walk the entire trip to your office and by the time you’re standing outside the door, you’re clutching your side and heaving for breath. You pray to whoever is listening that the Cardinal is a little late so you have a chance to compose yourself but before you can even form the thought–

“Signorina?”

You spin on the spot, trying to look as casual as possible.

“Cardinal!” you rasp. “Uh…hi.”

“You look lovely,” he says with an anxious little smile that gives you butterflies, “you’re glowing, signorina.”

“Thanks, it’s the sweat.”

You ought to be taken out back and shot like Old Yeller.

To your immense relief, he doesn’t look disgusted but instead seems to relax as if your odd faux-pas cuts the tension. Chortling, he gestures for you to follow him with a gloved hand.

“What’s for dinner?” you ask, as the two of you proceed down the hall.

“You’ll have to ask Secondo that, I have no idea what the maestro has planned for us this evening.”

“Sounds ominous,” you smile.

“Eh, sì. He is.”

Oh God.

“Your week has gone well?” Copia asks, adeptly changing the subject.

“Yes, just you know. Trying to make sense of everything von Schreck left me with. Can’t help but feel his presence looming over me whenever I change something he did. Did you know him well?”

“Not well, no. He was a quiet man, kept to himself. His eh, mind started to go, in the end. Became paranoid.”

“Ah. Explains his cataloging system then. If you can call it that.”

You realize you’re now in a wing of the abbey you’ve never seen before - a long hallway with a dark red rug running the length of it and arched doors. Copia stops at one that is open and gestures inside with a nervous smile.

It’s a kitchen. A very large, very well equipped kitchen with a massive island and high ceilings. There are three men standing inside it - you recognize one of them and the other two are staring in your direction. The tallest (and from what you can tell, the oldest) has a soft smile on his face. The other is also tall but broad where the older figure was slim, the overhead light glinting off his bald head. Terzo hops down off the counter, swirling a glass of wine and grinning. You’re suddenly aware of four pairs of the same mismatched eyes boring into you.

“Uh. Hi.”

The three Papas are on you like flies on honey in a snap, pulling you into the warmth of the kitchen while Copia removes his black biretta and wrings his gloved hands. With a shaky voice he introduces you to the two you are unfamiliar with and to Terzo he simply gives a hard stare.

“It’s an honor to meet all of you,” you murmur, smiling around the room, “Wow, three Satanic popes. I haven’t even met one uh…regular pope. Not to say you aren’t ‘regular’ or ‘normal’, of course. The Satanic versions are so much more interesting.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Do you drink?” the bald, mustachioed one - Secondo - asks.

“Please,” you sigh in relief. He gestures you over to the counter.

“What do you know about Italian wines, piccolina?”

Piccolina? You remind yourself to look that up whenever you manage to take a bathroom break.

“Uh, not much. That is to say…nothing.”

He smirks. You know immediately this man is a heartbreaker.

“I will teach you. This riserva is from the Ministry’s vineyards in Piedmont. Made from Nebbiolo grapes.” He pours you a generous glass which you swirl delicately in your hand before leaning in to sniff.

“Oh! I’m definitely getting…red fruits, perhaps cherries? Something mineral, like the way a damp cave smells. Hold on–”

You take a sip as Secondo watches you carefully.

“Wow that’s gorgeous,” you gush, “I didn’t smell the rose element but I definitely taste it. You said the Ministry made this?”

“Sì,” he nods, as he pours more into your glass, “I’m pleased you like it, you have excellent taste.”

“Oh, I really don’t,” you smile, “you’d cringe if I told you some of the swill I find acceptable. Particularly what I drank in college.”

He laughs loudly.

“What kind of self-respecting American college student drinks wine?”

“One from California, that’s what,” you smirk.

“Secondo stop hogging our guest,” Terzo calls from the other side of the room. “I want to see her pretty face.”

Secondo ushers you over to the small breakfast table where Copia sits with the other two Papas before leaving to fetch several wine glasses.

“Don’t you look bellissima tonight,” Terzo grins, and you blush as he gives you a very obvious once-over. That smile disappears though when he jerks violently, slamming his knee up under the table.

“Stronzino, that hurt,” he hisses at Copia, who has carefully schooled his face into a neutral expression.

Huh. Wonder what that was all about.

You’re distracted by Primo softly saying your name and you turn to the older man with a smile.

“Are you enjoying life at the abbey so far?”

Ah. Well about that. You want to lie - to tell him everything has been smooth sailing but something about the way he looks at you instantly makes you want to be more candid.

“It’s um. It’s been…a lot,” you say, looking down into your wine glass, “The Cardinal is really the only one who speaks to me outside of Sister Imperator. I-I haven’t got out of my apartment much except to go to work. I’m a little self-conscious about exploring, to be honest.”

Primo gives you a gentle smile.

“Do you know where the greenhouses are, fiore mio?”

Fiore mio. Another one for the list.

“I think I know where the gardens are but I’m not sure if they’re nearby–”

“They are.” he says, “Sister Imperator…doesn’t have much use for an old relic like me. I spend my time tending to all that grows here. With some assistance from my ghouls.”

“Ghouls?” you ask, cocking your head.

He smiles.

“Ah, you haven’t met any yet, have you? Well I won’t spoil the surprise. I’m sure the Cardinal would love to tell you about them some time. Anyway, all this to say…please come visit me when you have the opportunity, sì? Ah, that reminds me,” he gets up and walks through an adjacent doorway to what you assume is the dining room. When he returns, he’s bearing a bouquet of vibrant pink dahlias in a glass vase.

“Oh!” you say, setting down your wine glass as Primo places the flowers on the table in front of you.

“For you, cara. To welcome you.”

You’re squeezing the meat of your thigh as hard as you can under the table to keep from crying but the tears well up in your eyes all the same.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and he reaches out to take your hand into his long, wizened one.

“Cazzo, are you making her cry, you old fuck?” Terzo grouses.

“Terzo!” Copia says with a sharpness you’ve never heard from him before. You’re not sure if it’s the wine but you’re definitely picking up on some tense vibes between the two of them.

“Uh, need help with dinner, Secondo?” you ask, trying to cut the awkwardness.

“Most of it is already finished but you are welcome to assist with the antipasti. Forgive the lack of aperitivo but someone forgot to pick up olives today.”

Secondo glares across the room at Copia, who turns beet red.

“That’s okay, I don’t like olives anyway,” you say cheerily. Primo groans.

“Ugh! Philistine!” Secondo snaps, making a sharp gesture, “Get over here and atone for your sins before I kick you out of my kitchen, piccolina.”

Now your face is red.

“Yes, Papa,” you murmur obediently as you rise from the table, missing the way the four men look at each other with raised eyebrows.

“Va bene,” Secondo says gruffly as you approach the island, leaning over to pour more wine in your glass, “Do you know how to toast bread?”

You give him a look.

“I think I can handle toast,” you scoff, setting down your glass. “Are we making bruschetta?”

He favors you with a nod and a half-smile. A point in your favor.

“Here is the olive oil,” he says, gesturing to his left, “here is the balsamic. I have already diced the tomatoes and here,” he turns and opens the large refrigerator, coming back with a healthy amount of burrata, “is the cheese. Think you got it?”

“I…think so? Wait, do you have a grill for me to use or…”

He hands you a square metal pan with holes perforated in it.

“You’ve used a brustolina before?”

No, you have not used a brustolina before.

“How hard can it be? Don’t worry about me, please go sit down.”

He gives you one last sideway glance before snagging his wine glass off the table and joining his brothers.

Ten minutes later, Terzo is standing on the breakfast table waving a rag in front of the aggressively beeping smoke detector as Copia looks as mortified as you feel.

“It’s alright, fiore mio,” Primo soothes as you sniffle, staring at the charred remains of what used to be several slices of sourdough bread.

“It’s toast. I cannot believe I actually fucked up toast.”

Copia scurries to your side and Primo steps away to make room. When your head thunks heavy against his shoulder he wraps an arm around you, making soothing noises.

You don’t see Terzo thrusting violently into the air with a wide grin on his face, still standing on the table but you do see Secondo yank him down when he lets out an undignified squawk. The noise has you choking out a laugh, and you turn to Copia to see him staring down at you with a painfully soft expression.

“It’s nothing, piccolina,” Secondo says, unhanding his brother, “We didn’t need bruschetta anyway. Prometto. The real star is coming soon. Please–” he picks up your wine glass and gives you yet another generous pour, “--go take a seat. Enjoy the company of the Cardinal, and Primo, and my other idiot brother.”

You nod, accepting your glass.

“Sorry,” you murmur, and you feel Copia’s hand rub warm circles on the small of your back. You’d be willing to burn all the toast in the abbey if this is what you got out of it.

“It’s nothing, signorina, truly,” he says quietly in your ear, leading you back over to the table. Secondo efficiently dumps the cremated bread into the garbage and puts an apron over his head which reads “Osculari Coquum.”

By the time Secondo tells the four of you to take your seats in the dining room you are…pleasantly tipsy and incredibly hungry. The smells coming from the kitchen are so decadent, you can feel yourself salivating.

“Here we are,” Secondo says, entering the room with a loaded plate, which he places in front of you, “Pollo alla cacciatora con riso.”

You have to sit on your hands to keep from rudely digging in before the others have been delivered their meals but as soon as Secondo sits down, you’re ready to strike. Before you can, Primo speaks up.

“I would like to toast our lovely new friend. To your health and happiness. May you find a home here amongst us. Benvenuta nostra sorella. Ave Sathanas.”

Sorella. The word sounds familiar, as if you’ve heard it in the abbey halls before. It makes a warmth bloom in your chest that you’re certain cannot be attributed solely to the wine.

“Grazie mille,” you murmur with a smile. “Thank you all for having me this evening, I appreciate it more than you know.”

Copia’s hand, resting next to yours on the table, twitches and ever-so-slightly his gloved pinkie finger brushes against yours. You look at him out of the corner of your eye but he’s staring diligently down at his plate, mustache twitching as he fights to smile. The sight makes your heart thud in your chest. It’s as if the two of you are in your own little world, oblivious to everyone else despite the fact that neither of you openly acknowledge the other. It’s a breathtaking feeling and you wish you could put your finger on what is so special about this peculiar man.

“Bella, if you don’t eat that I’m going to eat it for you.”

Terzo is staring at you from across the table, mouth full of chicken cacciatore. The whole room, in fact, is staring at you.

“Shit! Right! Sorry I was…I don’t know where I was. Hmm.”

The four men once again exchange a look as you politely dig into your chicken and rice. It’s divine, as you knew it would be. The conversation flows wonderfully, the Papas all eagerly explaining the Ghost project to you.

“So you are all part of the same band?”

“We each had our terms,” Primo explains, “I was the first, Secondo was second, and now Terzo is the third.”

Your brow furrows as you mouth their names and something clicks.

“I’m sorry, you’re all brothers and you’re named first, second, and third? Who does that to their kids?”

Copia snorts into his glass at your candidness.

“Our idiot father, that’s who,” Primo says, and you’re shocked at his venomous tone, “You’ve met Papa Nihil, have you not?”

Oh. You’ve met Papa Nihil alright.

“Ah…yes. Yes, we’ve met. I don’t think he cares much for me.”

Terzo laughs.

“We all have that in common, bella mia! Consider it a badge of honor.”

You don’t quite know what to say to that and an uncomfortable silence falls on the room.

“So,” Secondo begins, “you must listen to each of our albums and tell us which one you like best, sì?”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’m qualified to properly judge that sort of thing–”

“We insist,” Terzo says imperiously, “I want nothing less than an album ranking and your overall top five songs. Cardinal, see to it that she gets educated.”

“I don’t see how this is my area of expertise,” Copia says sullenly, stabbing at what remains of his chicken. “It’s not my band.”

Hmm. Another frisson of tension.

Interesting.

“If everyone is done with their meal, shall we move back into the kitchen for dessert? Piccolina, how do you feel about gelato?”

Your cheeks redden at the moan that escapes your mouth. Copia coughs sharply at your side, having turned red himself.

“What’s your favorite flavor, bella mia?” Terzo asks, rising from the table as you do.

“Stracciatella, definitely, but I will never say no to chocolate.”

“Ah! A woman after my own heart! Copia do you hear this? She likes stracciatella.”

The Cardinal remains seated, nodding distractedly. As you exit the room you see Primo move closer to him and put a hand on his back, leaning in to speak quietly.

—

“Oh topolino…she’s just as lovely as you said. Kind, smart, beautiful. Burns bruschetta but eh, no one is perfect.” Primo smiles as Copia looks up at him in earnest.

“Papa…I really like her.”

It’s the first time he’s voiced his feelings out loud and he can feel the flush on his cheeks creeping down his chest.

“I know, ragazzo mio. And you know what? I think she really likes you too.”

Copia’s heart skips a beat.

“Really? You think so? I-I want to do something nice for her, something she deserves but I’m not sure–”

“Spend time with her,” Primo says, smiling, “She is very lonely. Continue to be the friend you have been thus far - that’s what she deserves.”

“I don’t want to be a nuisance,” Copia murmurs, “Surely she’ll tire of me or–”

“Surely nothing of the sort,” Primo says firmly. “If she cares for you as I suspect she does, she will welcome you into her heart. All parts of you, not just the best ones. You’ll see, topolino. Prometto.”

“Grazie,” Copia whispers as Primo places a kiss on his forehead.

“Hey you two what flavor–oh, I’m sorry, I’m interrupting something.”

You move to exit the room but Copia stands abruptly.

“No, please. Stay.”

You smile. If only he knew now how you’d take that request to heart.

#curator reader series #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

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