#papa emeritus 4 smut

[neganwifey25-blog]

This is soooo beautifully written 😩

Smudge

Papa Emeritus IV x Reader | NSFW

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[luciferscowgirl]

TOBIAS FORGE WEARING CARDINAL COPIA'S SHOES WASN'T ON MY BINGO LIST BUT

… HERE WE GO

[da-rulah]

Confessional - Cardinal Copia x F!Reader

Summary: As a sister of sin, it was your duty to confess at least once a month, to have your sins praised by a higher up member of the clergy. But you only ever chose Thursday nights, when you knew he was on duty. And tonight, you were working up the courage to confess your darkest sin - the dreams you had been having...

Rating: Explicit, 18+ Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Mutual masturbation, graphic description of oral sex and penetrative sex, corruption kink, shame kink, obviously sacrilegious themes (hello?? It’s ghost…), some nastiness akin to panty-sniffing… (you’ll see what I mean lol) PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

Your shoes clacked on the solid flooring of the ministry, resonating on the marble to fill the silence. It was already late, the sun long gone and no longer illuminating the stained glass of the windows as you passed them.

You couldn’t help your hands nervously wringing as you walked towards the chapel, pace quicker than normal. Perhaps rushing there was doing nothing for your current nervous state, but idly walking was closer to torture, and any slower, you might miss him…

There were only a few minutes left of confessional, and whilst you knew it would be incredibly quiet this late into the evening, you had left it as long as possible for fear of running into anybody else.

Thursday night confessional was the quietest – after all, it was his night, and he wasn’t a Papa. Your siblings favoured their Papas, any chance for a one-to-one conversation with them but not you… You only wanted to speak to him.

The doors to the chapel at the end of the hall stood before you, your mind still toying with the idea of turning and running, maybe trying again next Thursday… It had taken you weeks to muster the courage to confess this evening, and the chapel doors were the furthest you had ever got without retreating to the safety of your dorm. Tonight, you were determined – you had to confess.

With a deep breath, your hands – which you had adorned in some very pretty black lace gloves – opened the doors to the chapel. The creak echoed along the intricate stone architecture, and with it you heard a smaller creak of a wooden door, followed by a tiny slam. Had you not been looking dead ahead at the confessional booth as you entered, you perhaps wouldn’t have noticed it was in fact the confessional door closing very quickly.

On his side.

‘He thought he was done for the evening’, you thought.

You stayed put for a moment, contemplating just running back to your dorm and allowing his evening to end here – maybe he was disappointed that a sibling had come to confessional at the very last moment.

“Sh-should I come back next week?” you asked to the open room.

“Oh, uh… no, no. Please, sister. I was just, uh… stretching my legs. Por favore, come. Sit,” he invited.

You couldn’t help but smile a little at his sheepishness, like a child being caught with his hand in the cookie jar, protesting his innocence.

Quickly, you shut the chapel doors behind you and clacked your way over to the confessional, taking a seat across from his side and sitting awkwardly on the plush leather bench. The screen between the two of you kept a comfortable separation, forbidding you from having to look him in his wonderfully mismatched eyes.

You weren’t sure you could do this without that luxury…

“When you’re ready, Sorella.”

You took a deep breath, your hands playing with the fabric of your habit at the knees.

“Cardinal, I… I have sinned,” you began.  

“Which of the sins have you committed, Sorella?”

This was harder than you had anticipated, the fear of judgement so prevalent in your mind you thought of making up something far less than that you had planned to express.

Of course, you would not be judged for your sins – but praised. Confessional was not to be absolved of your sins, rather to celebrate them. You were supposed to sin, and at least one confessional per month was mandatory as a Sibling of Sin at the ministry. But this one felt like one you perhaps should have kept to yourself…

“Sorella?” he urged again, gently attempting to coax your sins from you.

“I’m sorry, Cardinal, this is… embarrassing.”

“Take your time, but know that no matter what, the dark lord will be pleased with y-“ “Lust, Cardinal. It’s… it’s lust,” you interrupted.

“Oh…” he seemed taken aback, almost awkward himself. “Well, uhh… In your own time, eh?”

You looked up from your hands where you had been staring at the lace that adorned them, taking a look through the lattice screen and barely seeing his outline across from you. You could only just make out the red of his cassock, not so bright in the dim lighting of the booth. The red was your favourite…

“Cardinal, I’ve been having these dreams…” you began, “well, the same dream. Always the same… and it follows me. I can’t think straight anymore, it’s… affecting my days, my work. My siblings are starting to notice my mind wanders and I can’t explain it to them. I’m trying to continue my duties, but I find it so hard to focus after having this dream.”

In the booth beside you, Cardinal Copia listened intently. “Sorella, is this a… dream of a, uh… sexual nature?” he asked tentatively, shy himself.

Copia was perhaps the most awkward of the higher ups, nothing like his brothers in their blatant sexuality and charm with women. Perhaps that had been where this started; a curiosity of sorts. Perhaps his somewhat goofy persona is what had caught your eye, made your thoughts wander during seminars and Black Mass.

Whatever had sparked this, it had only grown.

“Yes, Cardinal… They are,” you shuffled on the bench, the leather squeaking beneath you, “I dream I’m studying late, in a seminar room and… well, I’m not alone. One thing leads to another, and… I’m sure you can imagine what happens next.” You hurried to finish your sentence, praying to Satan himself the Cardinal didn’t press the subject of your dream much further and this may be enough of a confession to please the dark lord.

But imagine is exactly what the Cardinal was doing.

Had he not seen it was you who opened the chapel doors at 10:56pm on a Thursday evening as his confessional duties were coming to an end, perhaps he could have remained professional, listened to your confession without issue.

But you were exactly the issue. His sweet, most innocent Sorella…

The Sorella who smiled at him in the hallways, no matter who she was walking with.

The Sorella who never misses a seminar he’s hosting.

The Sorella who only ever confesses on a Thursday, during his duty.

The Sorella who keeps stealing glances at him as his brothers perform Black Mass.

His heart ached a little at the prospect you were dreaming of someone, of anyone other than him. But whilst his heart ached, his crotch twitched… Already, the picture you had painted for him was enough to be the focus of his imagination long into the night.

Copia coughed once to rid the thought from his mind as best he could.

“And these are dreams, you say?” he asked, hoping to drag your confession out just a little longer, to see if you would let any more information slip.

“Well, they started that way…”

The Cardinal’s head snapped to look at the screen between you both as if he were looking directly in your eyes, but he could only see the silhouette of your side profile in the dark.

“Please, explain...”

Heat crept onto your cheeks, a blush spreading as you recounted the dreams in vivid detail that had turned into daydreams.

“My mind wanders during the day… I can’t help myself.”

The Cardinal hadn’t realised he was squeezing his own knees with his hands until he heard the leather of his gloves squeak from the pressure. He quickly shook them out, ridding his mind of the thoughts you had placed there without intention.

“The subject of these desires – is it always the same person, mio cara?” he asked bravely.

“Yes, Cardinal…”

He took a deep breath, a part of him so hoping this wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass.

“Do you wish to tell me who, mio cara?” He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t praying to Satan himself that the subject of your fantasies was him. He wouldn’t know what to do with the information if he had it, but he needed to know, he had to pry…

“This is why I’m embarrassed, Cardinal… I-“ you paused. Were you really about to do this? Were you going to confess to this?

“This is a safe place, Sorella. Speak your truth, tell me your sins…” he urged, verging on desperate as he tried to keep his voice composed.

In your booth, your mind swam with the images of your dreams… Slow touches over your habit, gentle caresses of your cheek turning into ravenous kisses and manhandling until you were bent over your dear Cardinal’s desk with your rear on display and core soiling your panties. Just the images were enough to make you squeeze your knees together in an attempt to still the pulsing you felt between your legs…

“Cardinal…” you almost whined in a hushed voice. The poor man beside you had to bite into his leather-clad fist to stop himself from reacting. That whine; it sent a shiver down his spine that rippled across his whole body, the blood seeming to drain from the top of his head to one focal point below his waist… It took all the strength he had not to palm himself through his cassock.

Instead, he remained quiet. The only sound was the noise his leather gloves made as he squeezed his hands into fists. But he needed to give you the chance to speak, he wasn’t going to force you into admission…

“I-I’m sorry, Cardinal… but… it’s you.”

And there it was. Two little words that put his mind in a tailspin.

It’s you.

“Sweet sorella…” he whispered, “don’t apologise…”

But how could you not? You had been mortified the second the admission left your lips. You didn’t have to tell him it was him, but something had forced it out of you, some tiny little bit of hope that he would show an interest, or at the very least, that he wouldn’t chastise you for such dirty thoughts of him.

“Do you think less of me, Cardinal?” you asked in a hushed tone, tears almost threatening to creep up on you.

“Mio cara, as if I ever could… Your sins are celebrated here, you know this, eh?” The cardinal sounded as if he was pleading with you, begging you not to be disgusted or angry at yourself. Truly, that was exactly what he was doing; because he was more aroused by your admission than anything he had ever seen, heard or felt before.

Because it was you.

“But...” “No, Sorella, I won’t hear it. You are free to sin, we… we encourage sin,” he stumbled a little over his words, trying to be decent and professional but his resolve was quickly crumbling.

A beat of silence passed between the two of you, the only sound the creak of the wooden booth as the Cardinal shifted on his bench. The mere thought that the Cardinal might encourage this behaviour, that he might encourage your filthy thoughts about him had you biting your lip to save the whimper that had crept up your throat.

“May I ask something, Sorella? A question you don’t have to answer,” he asked, leaning slightly closer to the lattice between you and lowering his voice as if others could hear.

“Mm-hmm,” was all you could manage, still holding back that whimper as your thighs squeezed together a little tighter.

“Do you ever… act on those dreams?”

It was unprofessional, and he knew it. It was invasive, and he knew it. But he could never forgive himself if he didn’t at least ask.

In the tiniest voice, barely audible even in the silence of the chapel, you replied, “Once…”

But he heard you. Oh, he heard you loud and clear.

And the thought of his cara, his sweetest sorella fantasising about him to a point of arousal where she simply cannot help herself but to reach under her habit and… Well, it was driving him wild. His already wildly engorged erection was almost painful, begging to be touched. In a battle between his mind and his body, his body had won – his palm pushed against himself, slowly as to evade suspicion from just his shadow alone.

The guilt he felt as he crumbled… If you knew how filthy the old man was being, how he couldn’t help himself when it came to you, how he just had to touch himself as you confessed in confidence to him, you would surely despise him. He knew that.

And yet, at this point he was close to risking it all for just one moment of bliss.

“Cardinal, I’m so sorry… this was too much. I shouldn’t have come tonight, should never have said anything,” you panicked. He’d been quiet for a beat too long, and it was driving you insane. You needed to go, to run back to your dorm and lock yourself away to take care of yourself and the heat pooling between your legs whilst simultaneously avoiding any and all encounters with the Cardinal for the foreseeable future.

You stood up to leave when…

“No, no, wait, per favore…”

His tone stopped you in your tracks – the distress, as if he were the one in the wrong out of the two of you, as if he were the pervert.

“Mio cara, I don’t want you to feel embarrassed. And I don’t want you to feel like what you have thought or done is wrong.”

At least, not wrong enough that you should feel any shame. Sin was indeed the point, after all...

“And I certainly wouldn’t want you to leave without a sense of climax, eh?”

His chosen words felt cryptic, as if he himself were testing the waters but you couldn’t be sure. Yet the slight possibility was enough to make you sit back down and wait for him to continue.

Did he mean confessional? That you hadn’t heard his usual ‘celebration of sin’ speech he did for every confession before you had left? Or did he mean it in the literal sense?

Oh, Satan, you hoped for the literal sense. The one and only climax you had ever allowed yourself with thoughts of him running rabid in your mind had been the single most religious experience you’d had since joining the ministry.

“Dolcezza,” he began, “If… if you so wish, you can tell me about your dreams. I’ll think no less of you, te lo prometto (I promise you)…”

His tone was so soothing, as if he had morphed into the very serpent that tempted Eve to the apple. Was that what he was doing? Tempting you? You had no time to ponder the thought, your mouth betraying your mind as you began to recount the parts of the dream you had hidden from him before.

“I’m studying… Latin translation, Cardinal – your specialty,” you spoke with admiration, “you offer to help me, standing beside the desk as I translate a text for you. It’s about… sins of the flesh, and how they can be used as an offering to Lucifer.”

The Cardinal beside you listened intently, his palm slowly resuming the pressure he’d put on his length over his cassock before.

“I… tell you I’d never committed that sin before. At least, not with another… that’s when you crouch down beside me, and tell me it’s the most wonderful feeling. How… important the female orgasm is, and how… I should try it sometime. With someone I trusted, of course. And then, I…” just thinking of what you say to him in the dream had you squeezing your eyes shut in embarrassment, cringing at yourself but your cardinal beside you… he was so desperate to hear what you do next.

“I tell you I trust you… And you tell me you’ll take good care of me,” you divulged.

Oh, he would take good care of you, he thought, gripping his cock through his cassock hard to stifle the groan that rumbled deep in his chest. The shame that washed over him as he gave in to his own selfish desperation weighed heavy on his shoulders, and had it been anybody but you he wouldn’t even dare to indulge. But it was you – his sweetest sorella…  

“Sorella, I would take good care of you...” Copia tested the waters, relieved to hear the tiniest of whimpers from your side of the booth as his words settled in the air. You squeezed your thighs tightly together, your knees raising as you twisted in your seat to feel as much friction as possible without having to reach down between your thighs.

“Please, continue mio cara…”

You took a deep breath, “you lean in to kiss me, gently at first but… your hands push my veil back from my hairline until it drops, and wind their way into my hair. I just… I can’t help myself then. Before I know what overcomes me, I’m gripping onto your cassock and pulling you as close as possible, Cardinal. I get… so desperate,” you breathed, your hand snaking to cup yourself between your legs, unable to stand the lack of pressure any longer.

“Tesoro…” he moans beside you. His hand effortlessly unbuttons his cassock, pushing its way past the waistband of his pants to grip himself bare underneath.  He’s too far gone to worry about you catching on. Hell, he almost wished you would.

Like a bolt of electricity, a shock shot through your body to your core at the sound of his moan. It was better than you had dreamed, far deeper, the timbre of his voice vibrating through you. It only served to push you into confessing more…

“You lift me to sit on the desk and stand between my knees, your hands disappearing from my hair to under my habit,” your hand began to rub against your core, the other bunching your habit up around your knees, pulling it higher and higher to expose your legs beneath.

You felt utterly mortified at yourself, so eager to relieve yourself beside your cardinal. But you wouldn’t dare stop, not when you could still hear his breath deepening, slowing as if trying to control himself also.

“You touch me, and… it feels incredible,” you whine, your own fingers replicating his in your dream, now able to push your panties to the side and slowly drag through your soaked core, the lace of your gloves dampening. Copia could barely drag his fist over his length from under his pants but it sure as hell didn’t stop him as he envisioned getting to push his gloved fingers into your beautifully glistening pussy…

You don’t wait for any kind of response, your fight or flight instincts kicking in. To give him an opportunity to interrupt and scold you for your dreams would be a grave mistake on your part and one you may not recover from – so you just continued…

“Your fingers, they… slide into me. The leather feels cold – I like it, it’s… nice,” you whine, pushing your own laced fingers into you as you spoke, slowly… “But you take them out again, and you taste them…”

“Merda,” he hissed, squeezing himself. The picture in his mind was so perfect, he could practically hear your moans, hear the way his fingers sounded gliding through your slick…

No, wait…

He really could hear that…

His eye shot open – he hadn’t even realised they were shut this whole time – and he sat bolt upright, the hand in his pants slipping back out. He stilled, listening out for that tell-tale sound again, the quiet, wet squelch of what he prayed to Satanas was your fingers gliding through your slick.

And he heard it again.

His heart weighed so heavy in his chest, shame washing over him. You were part of his congregation. He was someone you looked up to, turned to for guidance and teachings and yet here he was – letting himself paint the filthiest picture of the two of you. You trusted him, and here he was having to force his hand away from his cock as you confessed your sin.

‘Copia, you pathetic old pervert’, he thought to himself.

“C-Cardinal…” you whined, and that was enough for him. Perhaps he was a disgusting, perverted old man who was hopelessly in love with a member of his congregation, and he just had to live with that – because there wasn’t a single circle of hell vile enough to deter him from unlacing the front of his pants to let his thick cock spring free and chase the pleasure he denied himself after hearing his name spill from your lips like that.

On your side, your mind couldn’t string together any form of coherency aside from recounting the details of your dream aloud. The lace of your glove was sodden with slick, fingers delving as deep as possible as you slumped against the back of the booth, legs spread and habit bunched around your hips.

“Y-you get to your knees in front of me, and… and you use your mouth,” you sob, clenching around your own fingers. “Your tongue, it… feels… ohh,” you moaned wantonly, catching yourself in what you were doing and suddenly realising you were no longer being remotely subtle.

Your eyes widened, fear rushing through you as you looked to your left at the figure behind the lattice. What would he think of you? He would be so ashamed of you… how could you ever look him in the eye again? Your mind raced with panic, until movement in your peripheral caught your attention.

A slow, rhythmic shadow… where his lap should be…

Paired with the short, sharp breaths he tried to hush that followed each movement of that shadow, you could surely draw only one conclusion.

And the thought had a fresh wave of heat sweeping through your core…

“S-sometimes this part, it’s… different…” you began again, slowly resuming your self-pleasure.

“Mmf, how… how so, dolce?” he asked, slowly pumping his cock in his hand, his eyes squeezing shut again and leaning his head against the back wall of his booth.

“Sometimes you… you make me cum on your tongue but sometimes… you c-can’t wait…” you stutter, picturing the scene in your head as your free hand comes to circle your clit, adding a layer of pleasure that had fresh slick slipping past your fingers.

“Fanculo… What do you mean, Tesoro?” he asks, his thumb spreading the beads of precum shining at the head of his cock. The leather glove he wore shone wet as he fisted his length.

“You uh… you spin me around a-and, you push me down against the desk…” you avowed, “and you f-fuck me, Cardinal…” If you had learned anything about yourself today, it was that you had a shame kink – because the way your pussy clenched around your gloved fingers as you spoke was too telling…

“In nome di Satanas (in Satan’s name)…” he growled beside you, his fist pumping fast enough that you could hear the sound of his cock gliding through it. “I… fuck you, Sorella?”

“I-I’m sorry for… my language, Cardinal…” you pleaded, unable to stop yourself from fucking your fingers deeper into you, your foot propped up on the wall opposite you.

“Oh, mio cara… don’t you apologise,” he smirked as he sat basking in your sweet attempt at an apology as if he didn’t know you were doing far worse next to him than cursing. Satanas, he fucking loved your innocence – but more so, he loved knowing that it was him who could corrupt it.

Still, he heard those delicious noises from beside him, his mind racing trying to imagine how you would taste given the chance to try… His dolcezza… Just one chance to taste you and he’d never forget how sweet you truly were.

But oh, Satanas, the thought of bending you over that desk in his classroom and sinking his length into your tight, wet cunt… It was almost too much for Copia. He had to squeeze himself at the base to stave off an early orgasm. No way was he finishing before you had confessed all to him.

“Will you tell me how, Tesoro?” he asks, and your willingness to answer him stuns you; how easily you gave in to your Cardinal, wanting nothing more than to please him.

“You’re… gentle with me. You take care of me, make sure you don’t hurt me… At least at first,” your hands slowed to the pace you envisioned his hips meeting yours, the building pressure in your abdomen lessening for the time being. The cardinals fist did the same, simulating the feeling of filling you.

“You always tell me how good I’m doing, that... you know I can handle more.” How you had got him so accurate in your dream is beyond him; as he slowly fisted his cock he knew that he would say those things to you, he would always praise you, tell you how good you were being for him. He’d only ever want to take care of you, to make sure you not only felt every single ridge and vein of his thickness but that you were comfortable while doing so.

“I know you’d be good for me, amore mio…” Copia was too far gone to recognise his own tiny confession as he talked you through your dream.

“C-Cardinal…” you whimper, your fingers curling inside you to reach the spot you just know his cock would hit with every slow thrust.

“It’s okay, Sorella…” he reassured, willing you to continue. If he got to hear you climax, to hear those gasps and sordid moans spill from you as you came, he could die a happy – if somewhat perverted – man.

“You start to get faster… harder… I can feel the edge of the desk digging into my thighs,” your clit pulsed under the circles you drew over it, “y-you p-pull my hair a little… a lot,” you corrected yourself as you stuttered. In your dream, Copia would wrap his fingers in your hair and pull until your chest lifted from the desk. “It hurts a little, but… I like it.”

He couldn’t take much more of this. His cock was leaking profusely as his fist quickened its pace. From beside you, you could hear his grunts, and the moment he spits into his palm to make the glide of his fist easier. It only served to heighten your arousal more.

Imagining his hips pistoning into you from behind, you couldn’t help but rut against your own fingers, little whimpers leaving you with each thrust. In the booth beside you, Copia was doing much the same, hips thrusting up into his fist which had now stilled to allow the next best thing other than your pussy.

“Sorella, I… merda,” he didn’t even know what he was trying to say, his mind simply clouded with thoughts of you and only you.

You were giving in, hands working so fast to race towards an end. You needed release, you needed to cum. For how long you had stopped yourself from touching yourself to these fantasies, you could barely edge yourself any longer. You’d only ever allowed yourself a release to thoughts of Copia once before, when it had become too much and now you were finally allowing yourself again.

And not only you, but the Cardinal was sat beside you, furiously fucking into his fist as if it were you because of your fantasy… You couldn’t hold off if you tried.

You pressed your lips together in a hard line as you hummed, suppressing a moan that would ricochet off the chapel walls for the ministry to hear. The pressure built and built, heat turning into a spark, to a flame until you ignited an inferno…

“C-Copia… Please,” you howled into your shoulder, curling in on yourself as you met your end. You fucked yourself through your orgasm, feet kicking out against the wood of the booth.

At the sound of his name – his real name – being thrown from your lips in desperation was enough to make his cock pulse in his fist, hips stuttering as he shot thick spurts of cum across his hand and down the front of his cassock. But the sounds of your fingers deep inside yourself and the thumps of you thrashing around next to him drove him animalistically wild, continuing to desperately thrust into his fist into overstimulation.

The both of you had to slow to catch your breath, slumping into opposite corners of the booths and both of you removing your hands from the messes you had made of yourselves. Your glove was sopping, to a point it almost repulsed you – you had to slip it off, letting it fall beside you as you recovered from your post-orgasm exhaustion.

The silence between the two of you was leaving too many unanswered questions, neither one of you knowing how to proceed from here. But frankly, you both needed to catch your breath and calm yourselves down before you could even think straight.

“Sorella…” Copia started, tucking himself back into his pants. “You…” he sighed, shame washing over him once again now the orgasm haze had dissipated. He ran his clean hand through his hair, and slotted himself back into Cardinal mode. “You should say your prayer of thanks…”

Disappointment washed over you, followed by a helping of embarrassment. He wanted to wrap up whatever this had been quick, and have you go on your way… Why had you expected anything different?

“Um… yeah, I… I should,” you started. Sitting up, your roll your habit back down to hang around your ankles and began your prayer. “Satanas, I thank you for your guidance and celebrate my sin with you, shrouded in your darkness. Nema.” You kept it short, now desperate to flee the chapel as fast as possible to run and hide in humiliation.

“I celebrate your sin in the name of Lucifer, our Dark Lord,” Copia stayed on script, as if this were any regular confession.

“His wrath endures forever,” you respond, as you knew you should.

“Your sins are celebrated…” he hesitated – he didn’t want you to go like this, he was screaming at himself in his head but his professionalism stopped him from wavering. “Go in peace,” he sighed, leaning forward against his knees, unable to even watch your shadow as you stood and left the booth.

The regret Copia felt stung in his chest – not for the act of sin he had just committed, he could never regret a moment with you. But he regretted the way he let you leave, hearing your heels clacking on the marble floor faster than they had approached earlier that evening. You got out of there fast, and he was so mad at himself for making you feel like you needed to run from him.

Copia looked down in his lap at the mess he had made of himself. He shrugged out of his cassock, the stains localised to just the jacket so he could at least leave with a little dignity in his pants and shirt underneath. He stepped out of the booth, checking that there was nothing to clean up on his side – luckily not, he was already far too ashamed of himself to have to spend any more time here.

He walked to your side to check for the same, praying to Lucifer there was nothing left on the bench either. Cleaning up his own mess was humiliating enough, but cleaning up yours? Satanas, he’d be mortified…

As he opened the door to the other side, he noted no stains on the leather of the bench. However, he noticed a small black heap in the corner. With a gloved hand, he reached for it, picking it up between pinched fingers.

It was lace… not panties like he had first thought, but a glove. Your lace glove.

You wore them often when he saw you around the ministry, enjoying the pretty pattern no doubt. He laid it in his palm, wondering how to give this back to you without combusting on the spot in horror after what he had just done when he noticed it left a dark, shiny mark on his leather clad hand. A wet mark.

Realisation dawned on him and the blood drained from his face.

You hadn’t taken it off… That mark; that was all you.

He quickly scrunched the glove up in his hand as if hiding it from prying eyes, despite being alone. With a quick guilty look over his shoulders and around the empty chapel, he opened his fist a little closer to his face, picking up a sweet, intoxicating scent as he did so.

He twitched in his pants again at the knowledge that was your scent. That was how you smelled.

Satanas… How could he ever look you in the fucking eye again?

His Sorella… his amore…

What a sick, perverted old Cardinal he was.

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 A/N: Hey! Welcome, I'm Bee - I'm new to Ghost tumblr, and well, to Ghost too... but not new to writing fan fiction and so this seemed like the natural progression of my new found love of this band. So hi, welcome. I'm planning more fics as we speak... but feel free to send me some prompts and I'll write little blurbs/one shots out of those too... SEND ME A PROMPT

[lil-freak-dexii]

HIS. FUCKING. THIGHS AND ASS.

[namelessghoulindisguise]

goodmorning copia nation.

have this drawing

full on twitter ;) twitter in bio

[writingjourney]

don't make me wait | copia x reader

summary: you make copia wait, he’s not happy about that. or alternatively: "DOM COPIA BREEDING AGAINST A DOOR" (powered by @sweatandwoe)

content: 1.5k words, afab!reader, dom!copia, smut, 18+ only, MDNI or I block you, breeding kink, rough sex, p in v, some mild degradation, they're established

Masterlist – Ao3 link

You would keep Copia waiting. You knew you would. And yet you agreed to help a desperate Sibling study for their Latin test to avoid the wrath of Papa Secondo. You could not help it, not when they asked you with tears in their eyes, lips quivering, already shaking. And that is why you spent the past two hours in the library explaining grammar rules to a novice.

Only when the bells start chiming six do you realize that you’re not just ten minutes late to your… little meeting… but a whole hour.

There is no time to feel guilty about it. You run down the corridors in nervous anticipation, only slowing down when you reach the eerily quiet wing that houses the offices of the high-ranking clergy members. You enter Copia’s office without knocking, only to find him already waiting by the entrance. Startled, you don’t fight him when he immediately pulls you further inside and slams the door shut again. The harsh sound echoes in your head like an explosive and you squeal in surprise, almost stumbling over your own feet.

“I was coming to look for you,” Copia states and then he’s suddenly pushing you against the hard wooden door, flipping you around until his front is pressed against your back, caging you in. You have to turn your head so your nose won’t get crushed and impair your breathing. Cheek squished and one eye squeezed close, you try to catch a glimpse of him. But Copia is busy. The lock clicks, the familiar sound much closer to your ear than usual as he traps you inside of his stuffy office. You shudder in excitement. His breath is hot against your burning skin when he brings his mouth to your ear, lips grazing the shell.

“I want you,” he growls. “I’ve wanted you all f-fucking day. And you make me wait?”

You whimper as his teeth meet the skin of your neck, slowly wandering down the slope of your shoulder where he stops, taking a deep breath.

“Do you not want me?” he asks, biting you through the fabric of your habit. “Tell me, amore, have you grown tired of your Papa? Is that why you come late?”

You whimper pathetically, arching into him. He’s already hard against your ass, pushing in even more as his teeth dig into your flesh until it’s bordering painful. The thought of his strong jaw makes you suck in a sharp, lust-filled breath.

“Words,” he snarls. “Tell me, amore. Tell me you want me.”

“I want you. I want you so bad.”

He groans, dragging his hot mouth over your neck again, restless and hungry and searching. He bites the soft skin just below your ear, even harder than before, pulling at your skin before he releases. “Say it again, tesoro. Say it. Make me believe you.”

“I want you,” you whisper. “Please, I want you so much, Copia.”

He grunts, pulling back only to slam you against the door again. “It’s Papa.”

You cry out, fingers sprawled over the smooth wood for more support. “I want you so much, Papa. I want– I n-need you.”

“Again,” he growls. “Say it.”

“I want you, Papa, I want you. I need you.”

His hand finds yours and he weaves your fingers together, sliding your joint hands over your head only to grab your other hand as well, rendering you immobile as he traps them beneath his strong palm. The angle is uncomfortable, your breasts hurt from the way they are squeezed against the solid door and you know you’ll find purple bruises all over your body tomorrow.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Copia says. “And I want you to repeat your words with every thrust, amore, you understand? You beg for me like a good little whore. You beg because you made your Papa wait.”

“Y-yes.”

He groans in annoyance. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Papa. I’m sorry, Papa.”

You hear him work his pants open with his free hand, knuckles rubbing against your ass every few seconds without providing any sort of relief. It takes a while until you finally hear the buckle of his belt and then he’s hiking up your skirts so roughly that his nails bite into your soft ass cheek. You cry out when his hand finally meets your soaked panties, pushing them to the side only to slide two fingers into your dripping hole without warning. You keen, clench around him, unable to hide just how needy you are by now. 

“Oh, you like that, sì? You’re so starved for your Papa.” 

“Hmmm.”

“What did I tell you?” His voice has an unfamiliar edge to it, rougher, deeper, a timbre that has your whole pussy throbbing. “Speak.”

“Please, Papa, I n-need you. Need you inside of me, please.”

“Say that you want my cock, amore. Say it.”

You swallow, throat dry and scratchy from creating all these desperate sounds. “I want your cock, Papa. Please.”

He removes his fingers, giving you no time before his cock slides in, all the way until his whole length is buried deep inside of you. Two seconds to adjust, then he pulls out and slams back in, hard and relentless. You cry out, nails digging into the unyielding wood of the door until they hurt.

“So tight, fuck.” His free hand finds your hip, kneading the doughy flesh as he adjusts. Suddenly he gives you a hard smack to help you remember. The sound echoes in the otherwise quiet room just like the stinging pain lingers on your skin.

You speak without even thinking. “I want you so bad, Papa. Please, please fuck me.”

“That’s it. You learn, finally.”

The intermission is over. Wet, obscene sounds fill the silent office, orchestrated by Copia’s unrelenting rhythm. He fucks you like he’s been desperate to do so all day, rough, hammering thrusts that would hurt if it weren’t for the way he’s hitting you just right, dragging the tip of his cock over your sweet spot again and again. You give him what he wants, join in on his symphony with your cries and whimpers, followed by the occasional please and I need you, Papa, I want you so much. Ordinarily, you would be embarrassed that anyone walking by his office door can hear you, but you’re too far gone to care now. Every stroke carries you closer to your release and you can tell he’s close too by the way his grunts become needy and off-key.

You ignore the pain in your cheek, the pain in your fingers, the way your knees are giving out underneath you. All you can focus on is how good it feels and then he’s suddenly pulling your lower body into him with his palm against your abdomen, pushing in even deeper. You involuntarily arch your back into a painful angle but it’s too good, especially once his hand snakes under your habit, searching, warm and still wet with your juices. Once his thumb grazes your clit you come undone. Your muscles spasm and you start shaking violently as you find your release, crying in high-pitched whimpers. Copia lets out a string of curses, faltering in his rhythm.

“Beg,” he says. “Beg for my come, ask me to b-breed you like a bitch.”

You’re struggling to comprehend but another growl has you babbling. “Come for me, Papa. Please breed me, let me have your s-seed.”

Your words have him moaning desperately, a sound that makes you clench even harder around him, and suddenly he stops dead in his tracks. Another moan and he’s spilling inside of you, rope after rope, twitching wildly. You almost don’t hear his next words over your panting, even though his mouth is still right by your ear.

“I love you,” he whispers. “Oh, how I love you.”

You smile, completely spent. “I love you, too.”

Copia slowly unravels your bodies and you flinch when he pulls out, his come trickling down your thighs immediately. But you’re more concerned about your aching arms as you carefully bring them back down, your joints complaining with every centimeter. Copia reaches for your wrists, rubbing slow circles before he starts massaging your numb limbs to increase the blood flow. You can’t help but stare at his disheveled form, hair tousled and lipstick smudged, his wet, softening dick still out.

Copia  presses a soft kiss to your palm before he drops your arms, inspecting your cheek instead. “Does it hurt bad? I know I went a little crazy on you, tesorino.”

“It’s fine, I like it like that,” you reply, but when he touches your bruised cheekbone you still hiss.

Copia hums but it’s not a happy sound. “I’m sorry, amore.”

You softly shake your head and pull him in for a proper kiss. He immediately sinks into your embrace, holding you like the most precious thing, and you’re happy for the support. His lips are cautious, soothing, providing all the softness he lacked earlier. You already can’t wait to return to your quarters and sink into the silky sheets of your shared bed.

When you break away, Copia rests his forehead against yours, nuzzling your nose. “You really should not make an old man wait like this,” he says. “I get so worked up, amore.”

You can’t help but grin. “Actually, my love, I think I should be late way more often.”

[ghulehunknown]

Copia x F!Reader

Day 5 of KINKTOBER is (finally) here! 🎃

**WARNING - EXPLICIT/NSFW**

Also available on AO3!

Written by request for @honey-dripp1n

“Do You Deserve It?”

Summary: You wear your shortest skirt to your one-on-one meeting with Copia, and face the consequences.

CW/Tags: short skirt, boots, degradation, vaginal fingering, thigh riding, PiV sex, unprotected sex, AFAB reader, F!Reader, zero aftercare, dom Copia/submissive reader

Word Count: 1870

It was a rainy, fall day and instead of being curled up in bed reviewing Papa’s business reports, you were in his office with him going over every single line item. ‘Well,’ you thought, ‘at least I could do something to make the boring task a little more fun.’

Oh how you loved to tease him and watch him get flustered in meetings, in the hallway, during mass, or even during a ritual. Would he be able to hide that hard on or not? This was your favorite game to play.

So you showed up to work in your shortest habit - the skirt just barely covering your ass. Perfectly perched on the arm of his chair as he sat at his desk, you gazed out of the window into the garden as the rain went pitter-patter against the glass.

He was completely immersed in his stacks of paperwork. “The September file,” he murmured.

“Hm? Oh, yes I have it right here,” you said, losing your focus on the stapled spreadsheet in your lap. You handed the top stack of papers to him and glanced over your shoulder to double check his work.

After a few moments his left hand wandered into your lap. You thought at first he was reaching for another spreadsheet, but his hand slipped in between your legs. You shifted just slightly, to alleviate the heat now pooling there.

He slid his hand under your skirt and trailed towards your hip. Then a sly smile spread across his face when he realized there was no hem of your panties - just bare skin. “You think I would not notice, Sorella?” he asked, his eyes still on the paper on his desk, one eyebrow cocked.

“Mmm Papa, you know better than anyone that tight clothes and a visible panty line just do not mix,” you replied in a sassy tone.

He shifted in his seat to look you in the eyes, knocking his pen off the desk in the process. “And just what am I expected to do with you now?” You pursed your lips and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, waiting for him to answer his own question.

He looked at the pen on the floor out of the corner of his eye, then glanced back at you. “Pick it up,” he commanded.

You slid off the arm of his chair and daintily kneeled down, tucking your knees together to remain decent. He kicked the pen further on the floor so it was now under his desk. Now you’d have to get on your hands and knees to retrieve it.

You crawled under the desk, your back now to him. You could hear the chair scrape on the floor as he pushed his chair back to give you room - or him a better view. You couldn’t reach the pen from this angle, so you outstretched your arm, arching your back and shoving your ass in the air. You could feel cold air hit your nether regions, so you had a pretty good idea of Copia’s view.

“Such a naughty Sister. Do you enjoy dressing like a little slut and parading your bare ass around the Ministry this way?”

You let out a little chuckle as you finally reached the pen - then a small yelp. He lifted your skirt a little and clapped you on the ass once. You couldn’t help it - the smallest whimper escaped your lips as you stayed frozen on your hands and knees. You felt your slick trickle down your inner thighs as you heard Papa mutter “mmmn,” under his breath.

You started to get up from the floor when you felt his leather boot on your back, immobilizing you. Not sure what to do next, you said meekly, “Here’s your pen Papa,” as you held it up for him.

He snatched it from your hand and snarled in your ear, “Just one more test before I let you up Sorella. Have you been a good or naughty girl today, mm?”

Hm. This seemed to be a trick question. Either response could yield the result you wanted - or do the exact opposite. Gauging by his demeanor so far, you concluded he wanted you to be naughty. “Oh Papa,” you began, savoring your words and choosing them carefully. “I…I’m afraid I’ve been a bad girl today.”

“And how is that, cara mia?” His boot was still on your back, pressing you down harder on the floor.

“Well, you’ve seen how I dressed today Papa. I…I’ve been aroused all day just thinking of you, and how easily you could take me without all those silly layers getting in our way.”

“So you have felt a tickling sensation in the middle there all day, eh? Should I take your word for it or put it to the test?” The pen still in hand, he leaned in close as if he was about to insert it inside your entrance. Your whole body tensed in preparation, and you made another small noise, stifling the sound in your closed mouth. “Relax Sorella, I could smell your sweet musk as soon as you sat down next to me.” He removed his foot from your back and gave you room to stand up.

You stood up beside him and began to straighten yourself and pull your habit back down over your hips but he stopped you, holding your hand firmly in his.

“I still need to see for myself,” he said. He grabbed you by the waist and plopped you down on his desk in front of him, shoving the papers out of the way in the process. He parted your legs with his knee, still sitting in his chair. One hand on your hip, the other sliding between your legs, he stared at you intensely.

You shuddered and tilted your head back as he slipped his middle finger inside you slowly, inch by agonizing inch.

“Mmm so fucking wet,” he said. “You have been bad. So bad to think of me all day and do nothing about it until now.” When you whimpered quietly again, he teased. “Does la mia piccola puttana need more, mm? So greedy you need two fingers?”

He slid his ring finger inside and pumped in and out a couple of times before removing his hand from your core, bringing with it a small pool of your arousal onto his desktop.

You exhaled sharply as he removed his fingers, aching to be filled again. “Yes Papa, I need it so desperately, Lucifer below I do.”

He inserted the same fingers into your mouth and you sucked on them, tasting yourself, tickling his fingertips with your tongue. He grabbed you by the waist and sat you on his thigh, facing him.

Instinctively, you began to grind yourself against the thick, ripped denim, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“So desperate to get off you can’t even wait for your Papa? And just look at the mess you have already made in my office. Who will clean this up? You expect Housekeeping to clean your shame?” he said, gesturing to the giant wet spot now on his jeans and the small puddle of slick on his desk.

Without hesitation, you leaned over and licked your own arousal off his lacquered desk top. It was still warm from being in your body just moments ago. He seemed slightly taken aback, but rolled with it.

“Lucifero,” he whispered as he started to say something but you kissed him on the mouth to shut him up, sliding your wetness you collected in your mouth into his. “Mmn -” he muttered in surprise, then swallowed and broke away from your embrace. “You are full of surprises, Sorella. I can tell I’m going to have fun with you.”

“I think you’ll be able to keep it up better than your brothers,” you whispered into his ear. Grinding on his thigh still, you began to unbuckle his trousers.

He slapped your hand away before you could go any farther. “Did I say you could touch, troia? If you’re going to act like the Ministry’s cum rag, then that is how I will treat you. You don’t get to touch what you’ve been getting from everyone else in this goddamn place. Is there anyone you haven’t fucked?”

“Your father, but that can be changed.”

He grabbed you by the shoulders, nails digging into your skin and leaving red marks. “You’ll regret saying that. And after I’m through, you’ll forget about those other quick lays you had.” He whipped you around and bent you over the desk, fumbling with his belt buckle before freeing his already leaking cock and burying it inside you - deep.

“Oh God Copia!” you screamed as he entered you fully without hesitation. You braced yourself on the desk as he began to pummel into you, grabbing your hair and tugging each time he thrusted back into your slippery cunt. He was moving so quickly - and you were so wet for him - he almost slipped out entirely several times.

“Lucifero all'inferno, come fai ad essere già così bagnata?” he grunted as he relentlessly slammed in and out of you. “Does my little whore enjoy taking Papa’s cock, mm?” he teased as you moaned loudly for him. “Do you think you deserve to cum?” he asked as he reached around to your front and rubbed circles around your clit. “Do sluts like you deserve to cum, do you even deserve Papa’s cock?”

“Please, Papa!” you cried as he touched your sensitive bud.

“Please what? Mm, speak up slut.” He clapped your ass again for good measure. His hips bounced off your plump ass in perfect rhythm to the circular sway of his thrusts. He shoved your head down on the desk so the side of your cheek pressed flat against it, your arms bent on top of the desk to shield your face from getting slammed into it repeatedly.

“Please let me cum! I’ll be so good for you, Papa, I promise - ohhh fuck -” you struggled to say with your head shoved down through rough thrusts.

“You think you deserve it? I don’t think you do, strega.”

You screamed out as he pounded away. “Please Papa!” you begged, so close to orgasm.

“Since you’ve been so polite, puttana.” He continued the small circles around your clit, building up the pressure more and more until your climax came in a sudden explosion throughout your body, shaking uncontrollably.

“Sto per venire! I’m cumming, fuck!” He groaned, body shuddering as he slammed three more times into you - quick and deep. You could feel his warm seed swell inside you, spilling out as he pulled out of you.

You laid there, slumped over the desk like a ragdoll. Your chest heaved as you felt both your cum and his flow down your legs.

He used some tissues to clean off his cock then zipped up his pants. “You did well, Sorella. No wonder you’re everyone’s flavor of the week around here.” He threw the tissue box to you and said, “Now clean yourself up. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Silence filled the air as he left you on the desk, still too overstimulated to move. You could hear the rainfall tap at the windowsill.

English to Italian Translation

- cara mia (my dear)

- la mia piccola puttana (little whore)

- troia (slut)

- Lucifero all'inferno, come fai ad essere già così bagnata? (Lucifer in hell, how are you already so wet?)

- strega (witch)

- Sto per venire (I’m cumming)

[copias-fluffy-asscheeks]

Nothing ever lasts forever, neither does Copia.

Copia x Reader

Around 1500 words, NSFW under the cut.

*⛧*

His bare chest was glistening with sweat, the hairs there damp and you could practically see the steam coming off of him. He heaved with heavy, uneven breaths. Fingers gripping the sheets in a white knuckle grip and his thighs trembled almost aggressively. 

You were bent over Copia on the mattress, your hand somewhere down his body. His back arched, legs kicking out as he twitched. His mouth was open, panting as he looked on at you, helpless to your touches. His gaze was wide and pleading, you were surprised he could hold this strong eye contact for that long. His face, neck and chest flushed a pretty shade of scarlet, matching the cassock discarded on the floor and the leaky tip of his abused dick.

He’d been writhing around under your hands for what felt like ages to him, it was far beyond the point the pleasure had turned into a mix of pain, only relieved whenever you touched him; you were seeming to try and make it a sport not to do that. His eyes finally left yours, shutting tight, he clenched his teeth and sucked in a painful sounding breath as you reached into back pocket to turn the steady hum in hs ass he had finally gotten used to up to an even more intense vibration. His head thunked back on the cushion, lifting his hips in an attempt to keep any pressure off of his bum. You pressed the palm of your hand to the base of his cock, forcing it up against his stomach and kitten-licking the sensitive underside of the head. He whined loudly and his back arched impossibly further, one of his hands left the sheets to fist his own, unruly hair, tugging at the strands. Tears pricked at his eyes and trickled down his already paint-streaked cheeks as you took him into your mouth and suckled, prodding the tip with your tongue torturously. He gasped, slinging one leg over your shoulder tightly, the other kicking at the mattress next to you like an angry bull, trying to dig his heel into the springs for stability. 

You wrapped your fingers around his girth again, giving tight strokes and squeezes and within no time he hurt with how close he was to cumming. ‘‘abbi pietà di me, non plù, per favore-’’ It was babbled out without thought in a sob, his plump lips flushed and dribbling with spittle at one corner. You pulled back for a moment, scanning his face for anything that may tell you he actually wanted you to stop but within no time he made it clear by humping his hips upward needily and propping himself up on his elbows to look at you that that was not what he’d intended, after all, it was not his safeword. Through the break his building orgasm had frilled back out to the small tingling pleasure of the vibrator sat snugly in him, and he gave a high groan of frustration. He’d lost count of how many times he’d been edged by now, though he did admit to himself this time was kind of his own fault.

You returned your hand to his cock, pumping him and smiling in amusement as his jaw immediately went slack and his eyes rolled back, arms giving out where he’d leaned on them and he fell back heavily, you continuing to stroke him again and again. Copia draped a hand over his face, the other once again tearing at the sheets. All his muscles tensed, ready for you to stop any second and ruin him further, but he pleasantly noted that this time you didn’t stop. In fact, you sped up the flicks of your wrist. He gasped loudly, his entire body rigid as he came in warm ropes all over your hand and his own stomach. The mewl he let out was almost ear splitting, his body thrashing and shivering through the intense aftershocks of his much needed relief. 

He slumped against the mattress, basking in the afterglow that was cut short when he twitched. However, you did not plan on stopping the fun so soon. Copia whined as soon as the pleasure went from tides of relaxation to an unbearably overstimulating wave. Almost immediately he trembled through another demi-orgasm when the way he wiggled shoved the vibrator in him to a different angle. Copia all but screamed, the tears that had died down a bit ago resurfaced and spilled over. He was breathing in loud, open mouthed pants and gasps, the rhythm his chest rose and fell in ragged and hitched. When you finally released his softening dick, Copia breathed a forced sigh of relief, even though his hips still twitched repeatedly upward, trying to escape the vibe that was still bullying his ass.

His hands flew to your hips, grip like a vice, eyes wide and begging. ‘’Spegnilo, per favore, I beg you, Tesoro.’’ You merely gave an innocent smile. ‘’I’m not done with you yet, love.’’

Defeated, he dropped his head back with a wrecked whimper, said whimper immediately followed by a flourish of surprised mewls and moans when you bent down to lick a stripe up the side again. He thrashed, and in no time his cock was back flushed, hard and leaking. Your fingers drifted around the head of his girth, giving a tight squeeze that had his head shaking wildly from side to side. One hand stays rubbing him, the other travels a finger through the patch of hair at his base, running up to the following trail on his soft stomach to twine in the wiry curls on his chest. Following that trail up and down a few times made Copia twitch at the ticklish sensation, followed by a nervous giggle. Your fingers soon left their trial to move to one of his nipples, taking it between your pointer and thumb and giving an experimental tug. His back arched, eyes rolling back. ‘’Cara, no- Can't. Can’t handle it. T-troppo!’’ His hips shot upward into your hand with a gasp as you rolled it between your fingers, crawling up his body while still keeping one hand on his cock, now pumping the head, smearing the beads that formed there and leaked down the length. You took his other bud between your teeth, nibbling it gently before sucking at it and he was quickly overwhelmed by all the sensations you provided him. He screamed. Another orgasm tore through him, he felt like he nearly fainted from the intensity. He shot up against your hand before pushing his hips back into the mattress to rock against the vibrator. His hands all over to place to claw at your body; He dug his nails into your back, groped your behind and shoulders, hips, pulled you down on top of him to cradle you close as he sobbed. 

Weakly, he lifted his hips upward as the buzzing grew uncomfortable once again, and he grudgingly released you from his tight arms so you could reach for the remote.You turned it off and got off the bed to head into the bathroom. Copia squirmed like a blind kitten on the sheets, whining in distress as you left. In the bathroom you collected a damp, warm washcloth, cotton pads and makeup remover, as well as you washed your hands. By the time you walked back over to the bed he’d wrapped himself around a pillow, shivering. You sat on the edge of the bed and Copia wiggled over to you. 

You dragged the warm fabric over his stomach and chest, then his thighs and you carefully worked over his once again softening dick, he merely gave the quietest mewl of protest and the twitch of his mustache, but he felt too heavy to be able to achieve anything else.

You grabbed the cotton pads, adding some makeup remover onto them before dragging them gently over his flushed, tear tracked cheeks, wiping the small bits of black that hadn’t smeared away from around his puffy eyes and his top lip before turning him around, slowly, gently pulling the small vibrator out of him. You went back into the bathroom one last time to discard the products. 

You made your way to the bedside drawer, fishing out a juice box for the man currently half in dreamland on your shared bed. Gently, you asked him to sit up, and he did with stiff movements, his body protesting loudly; you’d give him a thorough massage tomorrow if he allowed it. Opening the juice box for him he noisily slurped at it. While he drank you undressed down to nothing, crawling in next to him and fluffing the duvet over you both. He finished the juice and placed it on the nightstand, shuffling down so far only his puppy-like eyes peeked out from under the covers. You pulled him close, kissing all over his face; his neat, thin mustache, his sideburns, his nose, the crinkles of his eyes, his strong cheekbones, his chin, the worry lines on his forehead and the smile ones on his cheeks. Copia nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck when you were done with at least four rounds of kisses, breathing you in before tucking his head under your chin, your arms coming to wrap around each other while one of his thighs tangled between the two of yours.

You hummed to him and before you knew it he was sleeping like a baby, the top of his head where your chin rested on it the only thing visible other than the large lump under the sheets. This man was so adorable you could eat him right there and then. ‘’I love you Copia. You did so, so good.’’

You swear you heard him snore a ‘’Love you.’’ back.

*⛧*

A/N: Ty so much anon for the request! I have some other requests I'd love to get to, but those will likely be after kinktober. Also special thanks to @delulluart for helping with the title!

Taglist: @sweatandwoe @copias-girl @lightbluuestars @papasmicstand @random-bl-fan

(Want to be added or removed from/to the taglist? Send an ask or dm!)

[the-hole-in-terzos-shoe]

My Muse

Cardinal Copia x Artist!Reader

CW: SMUT, 18+, MDNI

The Cardinal catches his favorite Sister of Sin making some spicy art on her iPad, and smut ensues.

A request written for the lovely @mustluvecho 🌹 you are the best and deserve all the love in the world from our precious Cardinal, especially for the beautiful art you make of him!

Btw this is based on a real piece of art Echo made. I'll leave it up to her if she'd like to share 😉

Word Count: 2k

"...do you know what I mean, Sorella?"

Your beloved Cardinal continues to scribble away at something on his desk, absentmindedly rambling to you about his week, when he notices you haven't responded to him in several minutes. "Sorella?" He perks up, gazing across the room to find his favorite Sister of Sin perched on his bed, lost in her own little world as she whittles away at something on her iPad.

Silence falls over the room, except for the sound of your Apple Pencil quietly tapping the glass screen. Copia decides it's time to quit working for now anyway; it is the weekend after all, time to partake in the sin of sloth.

Letting out a sigh, the Cardinal stands, sauntering over to get a peek at your art. What he sees makes him flush a deep shade of red, coughing wildly to disguise his shock as if he were choking on something.

"Cardi, are you okay??!" you ask, concerned at his sudden outburst.

"Sì, Sorella! I am- I am fine!!" he says practically running to the kitchenette, "I was just going to make some tea, would you like some?!"

Surely your face showed your confusion, but you don't question it further, simply replying with your favorite tea flavor.

After a while, he re-enters the room, tray in hand with a pot of water and teacups.

"You're dressed nice," you remark at his button up shirt and slacks. It's not the full Cardinal get up, but you know that's pretty much what he wears underneath the cassock.

"Ah, yes. I had a meeting with Papa Terzo this morning," he responds, pouring water into the porcelain cups and plopping teabags in.

"Terzo? He got up early on Saturday for a meeting? Must've been important." You glance up at Copia momentarily in disbelief before returning to your drawing.

"I said I 𝘩𝘢𝘥 a meeting; I didn't say it happened," he deadpans, before you chuckle at the realization of what he meant. "I'm sure he had some Ghoul or fine Sorella occupying his short attention span." He rolls his eyes, drizzling a little honey into his teacup.

"Or both," you quip.

"Dirty girl," he mumbles under his breath, trying to hide the smirk on his lips. "May I sit?"

"You may, but it's pajamas only in this bed," you smirk back up at him.

"Oh, so you get to make the rules about what happens in my bed?" You love seeing him banter like this; he isn't always so confident around others, and it had taken a while for you to get him out of his shell.

"Well... I seem to recall you whispering in my ear about how I was your queen a few nights ago. Typically the queen makes the rules," you shrug.

He scrunches his nose at you playfully before going to change as you had requested. In the meantime you take a sip of your own tea, appreciating the way Copia always makes it just the way you like.

Returning in nothing but a pair of maroon sweatpants that leave little to the imagination, he asks, "Is this to your liking, amore mio?"

You look up from your artwork, admiring your muse standing at the foot of the bed, hands on his hips and expectant eyebrows raised. Smiling shyly, you still find yourself easily flustered by your lover, even after all this time. Gazing over his bare chest, dusted with brunette hair and marked with the sign of the Olde One, and then on up to his handsome visage with his well-groomed mustache and full sideburns, you nod your approval.

"Now, may I sit?" he repeats his earlier question.

You nod again, glancing back down at your tablet, but when you feel his hands on your shoulders, urging you to lean forward, you giggle, "What are you doing?!"

"Sorella," he grunts as he throws a leg behind you, flopping down on the mattress, "I am 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 to offer you a more comfortable seating arrangement as well!"

His dramatic tone sets you off laughing, while he settles in comfortably behind you. Your Cardinal knows humor is one of the many ways to your heart, and, oh, how he desires to be someone that you care for. Finally, with his legs on either side of yours and his back against the headboard, he pulls your hips so you're placed squarely in front of him then tugs on your shoulders so you're lying back against his chest.

You stop and look up at him, trying to hide your chuckles.

"Well, we are comfortable now, sì? Go on, continue sketching," he dismisses you with a smirk, as if he hadn't just caused a scene trying to get in bed.

"Okayyy," you concede, still grinning as you return your iPad to your lap.

Now, the sketch you are working on is quite... steamy, to put it lightly. Your Cardinal had caught a glance at it earlier, but now he's settled in, your heat pressing against him as you work diligently.

From what he can tell from the lines on the digital page, it seems two lovers are deep in the throes of passion trying what he would describe as a rather... experimental position. Depicting a man laid back with his partner atop him, facing away and legs spread wide, the picture has heat rushing various places in Copia's body. First and foremost, the flush in his cheeks tells him he is feeling embarrassed or even guilty, like a young boy seeing a Playboy for the first time. But the stirring between his legs has him wanting to see more.

Carefully he peaks over your shoulder, watching the naughty display come to life before him. "S-so... Is, um, is that... you?" he asks softly, admiring the curves of the hips and breasts of the woman on screen.

You chuckle at the way his shy personality resurfaced, "Yes, see?" You pinch to zoom out, revealing your own likeness next to his, clearly blissed out.

"Is-is-is-is that 𝘮𝘦??" he stutters, shocked.

Turning to look over your shoulder at his bewildered expression, you pull him in for a sweet kiss, fingertips tickling at his jawline. "Of course it is, il mio Cardinale... I haven't been with anyone else since you."

Blushing at your admission, he tells you, "S-sì, I haven't either, amore." Just as you're about to turn your attention back to your art, he blurts out, "But... but we haven't done that before."

"Hmm?" you ask coyly.

"That--uhh--𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵!" He points at the lovers intertwined. "The position... We haven't done that position before."

"Well, that's what art is for," you smile at him, "to explore the feelings we've had in the past, or maybe want to experience in the future..."

As you go back to your work, your lover finds his hands gripping your hips roughly as his head is reeling, the blood traveling south not helping his case. "Well... Wouldn't you like to," he grunts into the back of your neck, mustache tickling at the skin there, "work from a real life reference?" The buck of his hips into your backside accentuates his point.

You press the end of your stylus to your lips, trying to hide your excitement.

"I mean, we are already right here... We are practically in position as it is, cara mia," his suave manner sneaks forward again. With that, his hand sneaks down your front urging your legs aside.

"Copiaaa," you sigh as his fingers softly trace over your core through your silky pajama bottoms. Relaxing into his ministrations, your head rolls back, landing on his shoulder. His other hand snakes around your waist, holding you steady as he massages your breasts. Alternating rolling your nipples between his fingers, he knows he'll make you putty in his hands in no time at all.

"Sì, bella mia, what is it you want?" his voice hums low in your ear.

"You, Cardinal, I want you... I want 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴," you hold up your iPad to make your point before tossing it aside.

Without another word, he catches your lips against his in a heated kiss, mustache prickling at your upper lip as his tongue practically pries its way into your mouth. As if he's in some kind of rush, Copia's hands grip the waistband of your shorts, pulling them and your underwear down in one swift motion. Miraculously, you manage to not break the kiss while kicking them off, and your Cardinal's hand returns right back to where it had been, earning a muffled groan from you as he teases your folds with his deft digits.

Unfortunately, it never lasts long enough as he's onto the next task of getting you propped up on your feet, knees bent as you hover over his lap as he squirms his way out of his own clothing.

"What's the rush?" you chuckle at your lover.

He pauses briefly, like a kid caught with his hand on the cookie jar, "Have you seen that drawing, Sorella?? I am in need of that immediately," he says with urgency, "You know very well how I am when I want something."

Another laugh leaves you, but it's cut short by Copia suddenly pulling you down on his aching cock. Gasping loudly at the stretch, your eyes go wide at first before fluttering closed at the sensation of his warmth pressed tightly against your fluttering walls.

He only offers you a brief moment to adjust before nudging your ass, urging you to move.

Rocking your hips lightly at first, you chide him, "Demanding, huh?" You smirk to yourself as you start to bounce up and down on his length, grateful for his strong hands helping you stay stable above him.

"S-so good, bella mia," he groans, "the angle is... delightful..."

You can hear just how affected he is. "Sounds like the party might be over before it even begins," you joke, laced with concern.

He glances up at you with a fire in his eyes before gripping the underside of your thigh firmly, taking control of your pace. "Just because the ride is short, Sorella, does not mean it won't be the time of your life," he grunts between thrusts.

The hand under your thigh causes you to lean just a bit to one side, making it easier to turn and look into his eyes as he impales your body on his girth. His other hand takes grip on your ribs, fingertips brushing at your breast, helping to push your weight up and drop you back down again. Wordless, you snake your fingers into his hair, jaw hung open in pure bliss as he slams that sweet spot within you over and over and over.

"Touch yourself," he commands, "touch yourself for me, amore."

You comply, hand slipping from his locks to tease the area where your bodies are conjoined, eyes squeezed shut as you hurdle towards the heights of your pleasure. The thing that sends you over the edge is his hot mouth dragging against your nipple, sucking it harshly.

"Cardi-" you choke out the nickname as your body shudders, clamping down on him as your legs tremble in his hands. "Cum- cum with me, Cardi!!!"

"I am, Sorella, I'm cumming," he nearly whines as you're filled with his warmth, mustering all his strength to not go limp right then and there as his cock swells inside you. Riding you through the waves of your shared orgasm, Copia then slips out of you before flopping you next to him against the pillows before slouching down himself, dragging in deep breaths.

Recovering a bit quicker than him, you curl up by his side with a giggle, "Are you okay, my Cardinal? I didn't break you, did I?"

Languidly, his gaze turns to you, still looking a little mind blown, "Well... My dick may well never be the same after that, but I think I'll be alright." He throws an arm over your waist, as you squeal at his crass remark. "Seriously, amore, you must keep making your art. I've never seen anything quite so... inspiring." He gives you a wink before pulling the sheets over your entangled forms.

[portaltothevoid]

hypothetically….

what if… there was an enemies to lovers, slow burn, mafia au fic… the ghafia, if you will… starring (dark) copia… what if i discovered the canon fact of copia having a gun… and i took that and ran.

and, hypothetically of course, there was an OC named arianna diodati who’s copia’s (very catholic) rival’s daughter… and he uses her as a bargaining chip to get what he wants…

and, also hypothetically, he becomes hellbent on corrupting her catholic ways….

then what if i told you… this was coming soon, very soon and there’s a teaser below the cut… 👀

and…. maybe…. chapters 1 & 2 of “God Called In Sick Today” can be found right here

trigger warnings for series include (but won’t be limited to): angst, abusive relationship, violence, gun use, kidnapping, blood, religious trauma, corruption kink, eventual smut, enemies to lovers, slow burn, dark romance

~~~~~~

Arianna never liked the Emeritus family. In fact, she borderline hated them with their menacingly painted faces and blasphemous way of life. She never quite understood how they rose to rival that of her family. Perhaps they really did make a deal with the devil.

“I’m going to grab a drink,” she said quietly. Alessio just waved her off, her father already in a passionate discussion regarding something she could care less about.

She made her way to the bar, getting the attention of one of the bartenders. “Your usual, Ms. Diodati?”

“Yes, please,” she smiled.

It wasn’t long until she felt a pair of eyes on her from the other end of the bar. She looked up to see Copia, the ringleader of the Satanic circus, staring her down like a hunter watching its prey. It sent a shiver down her spine, but all he saw was the scowl that encapsulated her face. That only made him smirk at her.

She rolled her eyes in disgust, looking away from him. Out of the corner of her eye, though, when she knew his attention was back on someone that wasn’t her, she couldn’t help herself from taking in his appearance. She hated to admit, he looked… elegant. His burgundy pants were impossibly tight in all the right ways. It pained her to acknowledge the way they perfectly hugged his thighs. He had foregone his suit jacket, leaving just his matching burgundy vest and black dress shirt and tie. His sleeves were rolled up and she could see his muscles flex as he grabbed his drink.

Her eyes lingered for a few seconds too long. This time, he caught her watching him. His mouth curled up again into a sly half-smile as he took a drink. His dichromatic eyes never left her. The instant her drink hit the counter, she brought it to her lips and weaved her way through everyone back to Alessio in hopes of putting distance between her and whatever exchange had just taken place.

~~~~~~

thoughts? if this sounds like something you’d want to dive into… let me know in a comment you want to be added to the tag list!

[darkchocoboo]

make me yours | aether ghoul

summary: You’re something like a headmaster in the abbey and dating Aether. 

cw: SMUT, p in v sex, oral (f! receiving), fingering, praising, dirty talk, pet names ( baby, babygirl), cock-warming, poorly translated Latin, unprotected sex

MINORS STAY AWAY! 

You were standing behind the pulpit where Copia lectured the new-comers. It was boring, the weather was hot and your feet was aching because your new heels. You just wanted to get the fuck out of there and hide in your room. While Copia was reading and explaining some of the rules to follow in the abbey your eyes got caught one of the ghouls. Your ghoul. The way his black button-up's arms wrapped around his biceps, his calves in his skinny jeans made your mouth water.

"And what if we dont follow the rules? You gonna kill us?" said a new-comer with a grin in their face.

"Maybe Sister Pluvia wants to explain. Hm?" Copia turned to you with boredom on his face, rolling his mismatched eyes.

"Thank you Papa." You walked in to pulpit. Gave a little "I'm gonna fuck up your lives" smile and sighed.

"If you don't follow the rules around here, no no, nobody is gonna get killed. In that situation I'll be giving you chores, after doing the chores you gonna wish you were dead. My friendly advice to you, and I say it with my whole heart, follow the rules."

"Sure honey." New sibling of sin relaxed on their seat like you were joking. That pissed you off. Your knuckles that where holding the pulpit turned white. Your tongue rolled over your red painted lips.

"Dewdrop, take them. They're your personal assistant now." Dew's tail wiggled a little with excitment.

"You can go to your dens now. Welcome and enjoy."

You left the chapel while ghouls and Copia followed you. You walked into your office- chamber with fast steps, kicked your heels off and sat on your leather couch. Sun was coming down, leaving little traces on your walls, covered with book shelfs between drapes. Shining on the glass pieces it hit. Your hands reached over to cristal whiskey bottle sitting on your coffe table. Pouring yourself one while thinking about the day with the new-comers. You cursed Sister Imperator for putting you to this position. It was basicly baby-sitting. You hated telling everyone what to do and what not. But you tried to do your best to keep everyone in line. Even Papa Emeritus IV and his ghouls.

Sometimes it was more hard handling them than newbies. Keeping an eye on Dew so he doesn’t set anything on fire. And Mountain so he doesn’t eats anything un-edible. Telling Rain to take his lazy ass to the practice room for practicing rituals. Keeping Swiss away from new sibling so he doesn’t charm them into his bed. Keeping Aether on ground, not jumping on abbey’s old floors. And getting Copia to do his job as The Papa. It was all on your shoulders with other abbey- Siblings of Sin jobs.

Exhaustion washed over your body. Your head falled back while you sipped the whiskey. Then there was a knock on your door. You exactly know who it was.

"Come in." His big body entered the room with hesitation. Checked the room for another one. When he realized you were alone he relaxed. Took his mask off.

"Hi baby." you murmured while offering him some whiskey. He grabbed the glass, leaning over you and giving you a soft kiss.

"You were a little harsh on that new-comer, don't you think?" You bit your lips with frustration.

"No, Aether. I wasn't. If I let it slide this time they will never respect me or take me serious. Ever. I can't let that happen. It's my job to keep them in line. Keep you in line."

He burried his face to your neck, breathing slowly there to calm you. He wrapped his tail around your arm.

"Sorry. I know it's hard on you too but really? Dew?"

You let out a chuckle. Pulling you to his lap, your side restes on his chest as you sit sideways.

"Maybe it was harsh. It could've been Swiss. Less chaotic."

“He would fuck them.”



He placed a little kiss on your neck. Your hands running over his back wanting more from him. He peppered more kisses down to your cleavage. He changes positions. Now your clothed back vas on couch. Pulling you under him. His smell was filling your nose while he was hovering over you. His hands on your side, you between his legs. You raised your body in need for his lips. Capturing his lips with yours, your tongue running over his lips waiting for an opening to his mouth. His hand resting on your waist run over to your ass squeezing tightly. A moan escaped your lips.

“That dress, that skin tight dress was teasing me all day. How good your ass looks in that while you’re running your little errands in the abbey. The look you give every time you catch me staring at your ass. While giving the welcome talk, you were something else. I like the bossy side of you. Not gonna lie, but I like more how you become a submissive little bitch under me.” His lips touching yours with every word he says.

“A-aet” your moan was short with his lips on yours. Your arms snaking over his big torso to pull him closer to you. His hands grabbed the zipper of the dress and undressed you in seconds, now giving your breast harsh kisses knowing it will bruise.

Aether was a lot different when he was horny. It was like he was somebody else. None of that soft teddy bear side of him was showing. His eyes turns to a deeper tone of purple. Skin turning almost blue like a corpse but hot like fire of the holy Hells was burning inside of his body. Fangs more sharp and he was not ashamed to use them. Claws scratching your body carelessly. You were used to waking up in bruises and scratches on your body. Whole abbey was used to it. His lips peppering kisses on your boobs, down to your navel, leaving wet traces behind.

He wanted to kiss every inch of your body. To mark you on every visible place so everyone knew you belong to him. Never letting anyone to touch you again. He was possessive over you in moments like this.

His lips was now close to your core, giving your inner thighs sloppy open mouthed kisses. Your red painted nails grabbing his locks and pushing him to your core.

“No. Not yet Amor. It’ my time to tease.” His eyes glowing purple and burning your skin. He left a trail of sloppy kisses to your lower belly. Never breaking the eye contact. His breath hit your core over the red mesh thong. It made you more wet.

“Aether, baby please.” You could only mumble under your breath. He got up, leaving you behind like the wet mess you’re.

“No, Y/N. That ain’t the nickname I wanna hear. Try again.” He left you on the couch, got up. He poured himself another glass of whiskey, unbuttoned his black button-ups, throw the fabric to the other side of the room. His hands was hanging from his belt buckle, daring words making you ache under his purple gaze.

You liked how his belly piercing was shining under the light that was escaping from the small slit between the drapes.

“Daddy, please, fuck me.” Your hands trailed his jeans. Slowly walking to his bulge under fabrics.

“If you want, baby. Daddy is gonna give you what you want.” He sat between your legs, his face close to your clothed core. His nose brushing against your core makes you whimper under his touch. He pulled your thong to side as his other hand grabbed your thigh.

“I love your pussy.” Hot breath tickling your folds. “Always s’wet for me, yeah?” He parted your folds with his knuckles. Flat tongue licked your arrousal from your core. Your back arched with his move.

“Taste so sweet baby, always so good. Like you’re my drug. I'm never letting anyone taste you, yeah?"

"No, daddy. No one except you."

His lips covered your clit that was already wet from your arrousal. Pulling your sensitive nub with his lips. His two fingers teased your entrance while he was ruining you with his mouth.

"P-please."

His middle finger finds his way in to your wet cunt. Your walls clenching around him in need to feel full. Leaviny our insides and pushing back in immediately, reaching your deepest spots. Your taste made him moan to your core. Sending vibrations to your whole body. He added the second finger in, streching you sweetly. He curled his fingers inside. Touching your sweet spot. Your hands found his horns and push him between your legs as your thighs closed around his head.

"A-aether, please." He ripped himself from your heat, forcing himself to keep away his lips from your taste. Fingers still inside you as you tried to form a sentence, squirming with the feeling.

"What, baby? Use your words."

"Aeth, I need you. I need you inside me. I need your cock. Please."

"Attagirl."

He unbuckeled his belt in a heartbeat. Ripped his jeans away from his body along with his boxers. You adored his body. You loved his body. His muscles peaks under his squishy soft body. His thick thighs that made you wanted to settle between and spend rest of you mortal life. His calves, his muscular calves, his arms tensed under the feeling, board shoulders, his long stence. You just wanted to live under his skin, as close to him as possible.

“You’re gorgeous.” You said under your breath, blush covering your face as the words escaped your lips.

“Look at you, blushing under me like I just didn’t eat you out.” He placed a kiss on your lips. You could taste yourself on them. Hands cupped his cheeks as he found his place between your legs. His painfully hard cock teasing your clit as he kept his lips on yours. His precum mixing with your juices between your legs. You grind yourself agains him to feel him more. His hand grabbed the base of his cock teasing you as he spread mixed liquids to his shaft.

“You don’t even need anything, do you? You just want me to slid right in you filthy whore. You just can’t resist me.” You could just nod, couldn’t reach your words. Already cock-dumb from his acts. His tip forced your entrance. You pushed your hips to his as you wanted more of him. He slowly pushed himself in you. No matter how many times you did this, no matter how much he streched you before it always felt like it wasn’t gonna fit. He bottomed inside you as the burning feeling tickled your walls. Stinging pain turned to a hot devouring one as he waited for you to adjust the feeling. He peppered kisses to your neck and shoulder in a calming manner.

“Aether, move, please.” Those were the only words you could find as your brain turned into jelly.

He started to move in and out of you while  he mouthed your hardened nipple. Only thing that was coming out of your mouth was loud moans. Sound of the wet skins slapping his grunts as he got faster echoed in your chamber. He was mumbling praises to your ear but you couldn’ put your brain tpgether to understand it. His hand on your waist find your clit and started to rub it. It was too much for you to handle.

Your climax grow inside of you as he fastened his pace. His cock hit deep inside of you.

“I c-can’t, p-please.”

“You can take it, Amor.” Your legs wrapped aroun his torso was shaking around him with the feeling. He nipped at your neck as his sharp nails dig into your arm. Fangs breaking your skin, red liquid painting his lips.

His thrusts got sloppy as your walls squeezed his length.

“Cum on me, Mel. Cum around my cock. Help me burry my seeds deep in you. Let me put a little ghoul in you. You would look so good with my baby inside you. Oh fuck, Satanas. I want you to have my baby.” Your high hit you as his words filled your ear. With his shaky breath and his dirty words You couldn’t maintain yourself. Your walls clenched around him. Legs hugged his torso thighter which made him moan loud. You pulled him into a kiss to silence your loud moan. Your head got dizzy with his tongue in your mouth. His unique smell filled your nose. You grabbed his horns to hold him in place as he shot his ropes inside you. Ropes and ropes of thick cum filled your insides, burried so deep.

“You’re so good for me, Mel. S’good.” His body weight curshed you under him as your hands brushed against his back.

“I love you, you know that right?”

“I know, Aeth. I love you too.” He placed a soft kiss on your neck, light as a feather.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

****

“Babe, we’re out of coffee I’m going to get some from ghoul common room.” You said while putting his oversized hoodie on yourself. He walked out of the bedroom to your office. Only thing on him was a black towel wrapped around his waist loosely. Your insides tingled with the sight.

“You look so beautiful in my clothes, Cara. I can just bend you over this coffee counter and fuck you for hours.” He trapped you between his big body and counter. Lips brushing your ear in a ticklish way. Your breathes got faster as his bare chest pressed into yours more. You could feel his half hard lenght between your legs.

“I would love that, Aeth. But I have to work.” You pressed a hot kiss on his chin. You caressed his arm as you hold his hand on your way to the door.

“I’m gonna get coffee now” you opened the door but didn’t walk out. You steal a small kiss from his lips. “when I get back” you took a step to the hallway. His lips followed you to the hallway. Dragging his naked body out of the room. “you can do whatever you want to do to me daddy.” He opened his eyes lazily. Then he took a step back.

“Fuck.” He slammed the door to your face as you stand there in shock. You turned back to see what scared him. A sister of sin was standing behind you.

“Fuck,” you mumbled under your breath.

“I’m sorry, Sister Pluvia. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’m so sorry. I’ll go now.” You squeezed the bridge of your nose. You switched to your Professional voice in a heartbeat.

“You wanted to talk to me Sister, uhm?”

“Mary, it’s Mary.” You chuckled to the name. Ironic.

“Walk with me, Sister Mary. How can I help you?” You felt so ridiculous, walking in your boyfriends clothes that was clearly too big for you. Wearing the rat slippers that Copia got for your birthday. Your hair wet from the long shower you took together, holding an empty coffee mug, with the sister caught you and your boyfriend dirty talking.

“I’m so sorry that I disturbed you in an un-appropriet time. In middle of the night. But I’m worried about my friend. They didn’t come to dinner and they didn’t come to the dens as well.”

“Your fri- oh the one from earlier. I’m sure they're okay, honey. No need to worry. Nothing bad is gonna happen to them. But I’m going to visit Ghouls now. I’m gonna check on them too, if it’s gonna ease your worry.” She released a long breath. Following you to the ghouls’ chambers.

“I would be so happy. Thank you Sister.” You took a left turn to the cold and black hallway. Her steps slowed down when she realized where she was.

“They’re not gonna eat you Sister. But you can wait here if you want.” She gave you a little nod while you knock on the door and enter the common room.

“Hi Sunny.” She raised her head from the book she was reading. Gave you a friendly smile when she realized it was you.

“Hi baby. Everything all right?” You smiled back to her.

“Yeah no worries. I came to borrow some coffee. Aether drank all of it.” You raised the mug you’re holding.

“It’s fresh. I just brewed it.”

“Oh marry me, baby. I love you.” You placed a soft kiss on her forehead before you walked to get your coffee.

“Don’t let Aether hear. But I will.”

Ghouls’ common room was a round room. One side of it was floor lenght windows with black drapes around them. There was a library for ghouls. On one side there was a coffee counter and a snack bar, next to the tv and gaming console, and then the doors opening to ghouls’ rooms. Dewdrop’s door opened when he heard your voice. With the first step he took out, he started laughing his ass off.

“What?” You turned your face to him when he fell on the ground.

"What?" You repeated yourself in worry.

"You, you look ridiculous. What are those?" He said trying to calm himself. "You look like babies who wears their clothes." You scrunched your face as he got up from the floor and sit on Sunshine's lap.

"Haha" you released a fake laugh as he wiped tears from his eyes.

"Or- or like you washed your clothes accidentally too cold." You were genuinely confused this time, Sunny's eyes find yours as she shared the same feelings with you.

"Dew, what?"

"Like when you wash them too hot they shrink, when it's too cold they get big."

His stupidity didn't even made you laugh. You were worried about him. You didn't even knew if he was able to walk across the road without help at this point.

"Yeah, Dewy. That's right. They do." You petted his shoulder while you walked to the door.

"Hey, Dewy, where is that newbie now?"

"They're cleaning my room. And then they're gonna clean and polish my guitar next."

You gave him a little nod as you walked out. Dewdrop made that poor newbie do his chores and Lucifer knows what else. Sister Mary raised her head as you took steps to her side.

"They're okay. Little busy. But okay. Go to your bed now Sister." She thanked you in a small manner as she found the stairs to the dens.

"And Sister Mary" you catched her attention from behind. "This whole night stays between us. Good night."

 You slammed the door behind you to catch Aether’s attention.

“Satanas, I wanna go to sleep.” You murmured. Dropping your body to the office chair.

“Mia cara, let’s sleep.” He hugged you from behind. Placing a sloppy kiss on his arm you talked.

“I can’t. I have things to do. Band’s ritual lists, bills, I can’t baby.”  He spin you to face him.

“Let me help you relax.” He kissed your lips slowly. As his hand walked through your body.

“You don’t have to do anything. Just sit there prettily and let me do all the work.”

He held you by the waist and raised you to his height. Your legs wrapping around his waist.

“You look s’good with my clothes, my smell wrapping you. You gonna be my death baby. Your pretty little body is gonna kill me.” His hands run inside your sweatpants and squeezed your ass. Kneeding your flesh harshly as his sharpened claws scratched your skin. Small red fluids beaded over the scratch.

The sweats you’re wearing slid through your legs taking your lace panties with them. He lowered his underwear as he sit to the chair. His thick cock hitting your already wet core. Flipping you over so you’re facing your desk filled with folders.

A moan escaped your lips as his precum covered tip brushed over your sensitive nub.

“Aeth,”

“Just focus on your job baby. I got you.” He left small kisses on your  exposed neck.  His tip sliding between your folds as he started pushing his lenght inside your wet hole.

“Takin’ me so well baby. Like you’re made for me. Just like that." Words left his lips between his lewd moans. Without the proper preparation his thickness burned your hole as he kept pushing himself between your walls. That slight burn in your core made you even wetter for him. His hand found one of your nipple and started toying sensitive skin between his fingers.

"You're surprising calm today, baby." You finally found your words as he was deep inside you, his tip pushing your cervix.

"I go harsh on you 'cause I know you enjoy it as much as I do, but now you need me to be a good boy. So I'll be a good boy. I'm just gonna sit here, burried deep inside you and let you do what you do."

His hand left your nipple alone as he grabbed his phone from your desk. His tail wrapping around your leg, his cock twitching inside you as your walls clench around him occasionally.

Maybe hours passed as you sit on his cock, maybe minutes. You couldn't tell. His thick shaft inside you was driving you crazy. The full feeling, his throbes inside your walls, his tip hitting different spots when he laughs something he saw on his phone. You just couldn't take it anymore. Pen dropped from your hand.

You circled your hips for more friction. Shock got him as you moved up and down on his cock.

"B-baby?"

"I swear to Lucifer, if you don't bend me over to that fucking table and fuck the living shit out of me I'm gonna go crazy. I-I can't take it anymore."

"As you wish Mia cara." He grabbed your waist as he kicked the chair under him and stand up. Slammin your chest to the desk. His strong fingers found its way to your hair, grabbing it harshly. Sending shivers down your body. His chest pressed against your back. Lips touching that thin skin under your ear, he whispered.

"Quidquid domina mea vult a me."

He straightens his back, parts your leg with his foot, gray sweatpants still bundled up on your ankles. His hips slamming against yours when he starts giving what you wanted. Your hair in his hand was sending electric waves down on your body.

"Is this what you wanted, babygirl?" His chest, now back to your back. His lewd groans filling your ears as much as your own loud moans.

"Is your ghoul's dick making you feel that good?" His long finger wrapped around your throat as he kept talking dirty to your ear.

With the pressure on your throat and your hair your eyes started to water. Pleasure washing over your body with the burn in your lungs.

"OH, baby. You get so cock-dumb on my cock every time I fuck you, I forgot how smart my little dove is. You can't even say my name. Look at you."

His hand leaves your throat and finds its way to your clit. Starts rubbing loosely on the sensitive bud. Your mind goes blank as his hand's pace matches his hips. Your climax grows in you with everything he does. A throbe of his cock, a circle that his hands makes feels too much.

"Aether, I can't. T-to much." Your abdomen starts to feel so tight, it hurts. Your walls clenching around his cock as his thrust gets slow but deeper.

"I know you can, babygirl. Cum for this poor ghoul. I need it. I need you to cum on my cock."

His words does it for you. Whole world goes black for a good minute as your orgasm hits you hard. Your mind emptier than before. He doesn't slow down, his thrusts keep going in a search for his own relief. Your legs shake as your whole body feels overwhelmed. Not after three thrusts he shoots thick ropes of white liquid all over your insides. Fills you up with the warmth.

His chest falls over your back once again, he doesn't pull out yet. Breathing heavily and crushing you with his weight.

"Attagirl. I knew you could do it. You always make me feel good after all." He peppered kisses all over your face and neck.

"Let's go to bed."

He grabs your waist and walks to your bedroom with long steps.

"Aether," you say as he puts you on your bed and reaches for a washcloth to clean you up.

"Mark me. Make me yours."

[luciferscowgirl]

Me every time I read @zombiequeenblog’s fics:

(Me if I had a ghock)

I NEED HIM. I NEED TO LIVE IN THE SADGLO UNIVERSE. I NEED CARDINAL COPIA. I AM SO NOT OKAY WHEN IT COMES TO HIM. HELP ME DEAR LORD SATAN PLEASE.

IT’S STARTING TO HURT.

[da-rulah]

Confessional - Cardinal Copia x F!Reader [Part 3]

Summary: At the request of Papa Emeritus III, you return to your duties around the Ministry, but when he reminds you of your absence from confessional in the past month, he asks you to return to where it all started...

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 12k (lol wtf sorry guys this one ran away from me...)

Warnings: Pillow Humping, cunnilingus, panty-sniffing kink (once again, the glove returns...), honestly Copia just gets more pathetic in this part, vaginal fingering, premature ejaculation, cum eating, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, dirty talk (a lot of it...), lots of feelings, idiots to lovers

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

A/N: Guys... thank you all SO MUCH. The love for this fic has been bigger than I ever thought, and genuinely my heart is so full whenever I get a comment, a reblog, a message about it. I hope this is worth the wait, I know it's literally double the length of the other chapters but I really wanted you to enjoy and immerse yourself - there needed to be a decent enough pay-off after all the pining and angst 😂 Special thanks to @her-satanic-wiles for the beta reading and encouragement, and to @adinferix for their help with the Italian translation!

Copia had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t think of you today. Last night had been the last time. No, really.... He swore it. The moment he decided? When he’d woken up, face down in his pillows – after a night of self-indulgence that included another long-since dirtied and discarded pillow... - and realised that there was something stuck to his face.  

Your glove.     It had taken at least 25 minutes for the red imprint of that floral pattern to fade away from the pale skin across his cheek, and he’d been mortified - especially when brushing his teeth, having to stare at himself in the mirror with that pattern taunting him. He may as well have written “PERVERT” in sharpie across his cheek instead, for all the shame it brought him. 

That pattern was the reason for the Cardinal’s tardiness to his seminar that day, the man scurrying down the halls and checking his reflection in any and every passing surface possible to be sure that there was no longer an intrusive red flower burned into his pale skin.  

When he reached his classroom, everyone had taken to their seats already, some chattering away with each other as they waited, others impatiently tapping their feet or pencils with each passing second. Copia slunk into the classroom, muttering apologies with his eyes trained on the floor to avoid the death glares of the siblings who took their studies just a touch too seriously.  

Without further ado, the Cardinal began to make some notes on the chalkboard at the front of the classroom. The chalk squeaked against the board, some of the siblings in the room whining incredulously at the sound and the chatter ceasing as if he’d done it deliberately to shush them.  

“Okie dokie, we will look today to focus on Latin pronunciation, and-” the Cardinal froze as he turned back to the class, eyes settling on a figure in the back corner.  

He must have been dreaming...   

There you sat, in your most conservative habit possible – purposefully changing after your meeting with Terzo that morning, your guilt for derailing the Cardinal in the confessional booth forcing you out of your impressive ensemble meant to manipulate Papa. 

Coming to Copia’s seminar was not a choice; you just desperately didn’t want Papa to bring Sister Imperator into this or get yourself in any more trouble. Terzo had spared you a punishment and you weren’t to take this for granted. So, you’d made sure you arrived with a group of other siblings, pushing through into the seminar room and plonking yourself in the very back corner in the hope he wouldn’t see you. 

But of course, he saw you. As if his body was magnetically drawn towards you, you were the first he laid his eyes on.  

You avoided his gaze, scribbling something down on the paper in front of you to look busy. You hadn’t missed his cut off sentence as his eyes settled on you, nor the lingering silence as you scribbled.  

‘Say something, Cardinal... Please say something. I can’t bear this...’ you thought, the seconds ticking by.  

“Mi dispiace (I’m sorry), I lost my train of thought for a moment. Pronunciation, sì, that’s where we were. Okay...” he shook his head, returning his attention to the class. He couldn’t focus on you now, couldn’t jeopardise himself that way. One wrong move, and you may disappear for another four weeks, or worse, and Satanas, he’d never forgive himself. That was not the kind of hell he wished to endure.  

Throughout the seminar, he would steal quick glances in your direction, as if making sure you were indeed still there, that you were real. Trying to find you before now had been like trying to catch smoke... downright impossible. His guilt gnawed at him like an insect burrowing into his skin, shame creeping over him each time he saw you staring down at your page.  

You didn’t want to be here, that much was clear to him. He’d made you uncomfortable, avoiding him... It stung him more than it should. 

“I... I think we’re done for today, classe (class) . Good job, molto bene (very good),” he fussed over the book on his desk as the class rose from their seats, gathering their things and heading for the door. In a moment of what he would describe as idiocy, he called out, “Uh, Sorella ______? Could I just...”  

But you were gone.   

Copia felt like a moron, embarrassed and pining over you as he watched you leave so quickly, quite obviously running from him. All he wanted to do was to apologise, to make you feel like you didn’t have to hide from him anymore. But you were that repulsed by him that you fled at the first chance you could.  

He huffed, dropping into his chair at his desk as the room emptied. He thought it over for a moment – you didn’t want to be in his class, and yet you came anyway. Why?  

Terzo... He had noticed your absence, questioned the Cardinal over it... Perhaps he’d told you to return to your duties, punished you...   

And that was all his fault. He’d upset you so much you’d avoided your duties, hidden yourself away. You were so repulsed by him that you couldn’t even look at him anymore. His sweet, most innocent Sorella…  

The Sorella who used to smile at him in the hallways, no matter who she was walking with.   

The Sorella who never missed a seminar he was hosting.   

The Sorella who only ever confessed on a Thursday, during his duty.   

The Sorella who kept stealing glances at him as his brothers performed Black Mass.  

Not anymore.  

How silly of him to think there was ever any chance you might not hate him. How silly of him to think you might actually be attracted to him, that you could be at all interested in the blithering idiot Cardinale who still reads Beano comics and relaxes with a Juicebox and video games at the end of the working week.  

Copia was always brushed to the side, never good enough for a woman as wonderful as you, as beautiful as you.  

How daft he felt, and how sick he felt knowing how he had defiled your trust – and continued to do so every. fucking. night. Behind your back, in the shame of his private quarters. 

Perverted old Cardinale Copia...  

Those moans, oh how he could write a symphony with those moans. They sounded so visceral and somehow so melodic rolling from your tongue as his rolled against your heat. And Sathanas, the taste... he devoured that sweetness like it was his last meal on Death Row. Your hands clutching his hair scraped their nails against his scalp and he growled into your mound with a deep vibration that drew more sweet, sweet moans from your lips.   

With two gloved fingers, he breached your walls and with expert precision, he found the spot only you had found yourself – no previous lovers ever able to satiate you like he could. You were his.   

His his his.  

Even through the leather, he could feel your warmth on his fingers, hear the hungry slurps of your pussy drawing him back in over and over with every pump of his fingers inside you.   

“Cardinal... Cardinal....” you chanted like a mantra, eyes screwed shut and breath laboured as he drew you closer and closer to an end, more of your juices seeping out and dripping onto his eagerly lapping tongue, until...  

Until...  

Sweat beaded on Copia’s forehead as his eyes shot open, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he lay in bed, his skin hot to the touch in the dark around him. His head snapped to the side, seeing the glowing red of his digital alarm clock reading 3:09am.  

He rubbed at his paintless eyes, groaning into the dark at the sticky feeling all over his body, the sweat now cooling in the night air and chilling him.  

Just a fucking dream.   

He could still taste you, still feel you, still hear you... How could he stop this? How would he ever be able to move on from this fucking chokehold you had on him? Does time heal all wounds?     Copia sure hoped so.  

In the dark, he felt the familiar need in his groin – a stiffness he wouldn’t be able to shake so easily. He didn’t want to, not again. Already he felt like a total degenerate, jacking off to the smell of your used glove a nightly occurrence. But now he was dreaming of you?  

With reluctance, he shifted the sheets and let his naked form hit the cold air around him, thick cock standing to attention. He threw an arm over his eyes, his other reaching down until he could lazily stroke the shaft of his shame a few times.  

Here we go again, he thought to himself in disgust.  

But disgust wasn’t enough to quell the rising lust he felt, and his hand began to pump his length with vigour as he recounted the details of the dream that woke him.  

He whimpered into the night, the heavy arm across his eyes shielding himself from his own depravity only getting heavier. His hips started to roll against the mattress, meeting his fist over and over. He couldn’t take this, he wanted so badly to bury himself, to grind down, to feel pressure...   

He sat upright, reaching behind him for one of the silk pillows he lay on before. He got up onto his knees, folding the pillow in two to create a crease and pushed it into his mattress, lining his hips up with it.   

And like the dirty old cardinal he was, he pushed his cock into the crease, groaning into a tight fist as he did.  

He leaned his weight over onto the hand pinning the pillow down and began to roll his hips into the softness, his eyes squeezing shut in pleasure as images of you flashed in his mind. That dream, it had felt so... so real? As if he could taste you still, smell you still... 

And he could, of course, once his hand had snaked under the remaining pillows to retrieve that damned glove he was far too lazy to hide properly these days. He humped the pillow he buried his cock into like a horny teenager, holding that glove against his nose and mouth as he got faster and faster, inhaling.  

“Ohhh, cazzo... (fuck),” he groaned, picturing you beneath him, his cock pistoning in and out of you. How good you’d feel beneath him, how slick, and wet, and warm you’d be for him. The noises from the confessional booth still haunted him, ricocheting off the inside of his skull as he buried himself over and over.   

“Sorella... Hmmm,” he hummed, “______, merda (shit).” His hips stuttered, the silk dampened with precum giving just enough friction... He wished it was you so badly, your pussy enveloping him. He craved it, like he couldn’t bear to go on without having you, even if it were just once.  

He bit his lip as he growled, hunching over the pillow like an animal and spilling his cum into the crease. His hips slowed, lazily rocking back and forth as he milked the rest of his spend until he could take it not more, letting go of the silk and falling face first into the rest of his bedding, uncaring of the mess beneath him. 

Integrating yourself back into the Ministry life hadn’t been nearly as hard as you had thought, managing to avoid the Cardinal everywhere other than that damn seminar. You’d heard him call out to you as you were leaving, but it only made your feet carry you faster past your Siblings and out into the hall to escape. You knew it was cowardly, but you weren’t ready to have to explain yourself to him, to see the disappointment in his face or to chastise you for what you’d coerced him into doing.  

You knew today you could evade him, his schedule keeping him busy all day and out of your current hiding place; the library.  

You adored this library... The corridors were like a maze, easy enough to get lost in your pursuit of knowledge. In dark nooks, high back leather chairs to read in sat in dim lamplight. Artistic renditions of Satanic teachings littered the ceilings as they might in a Catholic church – except, it was Lucifer who danced through each scene instead of Jesus. Dark wooded desks for studying or translating lined up in the middle of the lobby, two grand staircases winding up the walls opposite each other to the second floor. In between the staircases, was the most beautiful part of all... 

On the floor sat a reversed Pentagram, carved into stone with pictures of Lucifer and his most feared animals painted into the ramp where the staircases met – goats, cats, owls, bats... the misunderstood creatures tied to him. Carved into the outer edge of the pentagram sat purple stained Atropa belladonna flowers and vines, and atop the raised pentagram sat a marble statue of a white snake winding around a black pedestal. In the mouth of the snake, stuck between the fangs, was the ripest red apple – a symbol of Lucifer’s temptation, his greatest triumph in the Garden of Eden.  

That statue always seemed to steal your breath away, as it did anyone who gazed upon it. The care and attention to detail, the way it always shined in the faux candlelight – real was too dangerous around the ancient texts and antique furniture throughout the library – it was just so spectacular.  

It was a beautiful place to spend your day, but it served a purpose today. You chose one of the leather high back chairs just off from the lobby to relax and catch up on some reading you’d neglected in your time spent hiding.   

As you neared the end of the book you were studying – an old Catholic tome you struggled to translate from the dusty pages – you decided to find the book that you knew countered the Catholic teachings, so you could cross reference and perhaps understand the old book better.  

You stood, taking the Catholic tome with you into the rows of tall bookshelves in search of the Satanic counterpart. It had to be up on the fourth shelf, just out of reach. Sighing dramatically in your own laziness, you reached for the running ladder at the end of the shelves, dragging it along its tracks to the spot you had been standing. You rested the book in your arms on a lower shelf, and starting to climb the rungs of the ladder.  

In your haste, the long skirt of your chosen conservative habit – the ones you had taken to wearing every day now that you were to be out and about around the Cardinal again – became trapped under your foot and naturally, you slipped from a few feet off the ground, losing your grip and balance.  

Two unassumingly strong arms stopped you before you could hit the marble flooring, wrapping around your waist and tugging you to a body behind you to stop you meeting a rather bruising conclusion.     “Careful, Sorella...” the chest you were pressed against vibrated with a deep chuckle. “Pretty girls should not be covered in accidental bruises, eh?”  

You stumbled to your feet, straightening out your habit and turning to see Terzo smirking at you, his ghostly eye somehow even more bewitching in the dim lamplight.     “Grazie (thank you), Papa... I slipped on...” 

“Sì, your habit,” his eyes raked over your form, confusion furrowing on his brow as he remembered the other morning in his office – you'd been wearing something much more to his liking. “I must say, I preferred the shorter one, mia cara . With the red stitching...” he winked.  

Your cheeks flushed with heat as you averted your eyes from his.  

“Did you only wear that for me, tesoro? ” he winked, taking a step towards you, “Thought it would get you out of trouble, eh?” His teasing flustered you, and you couldn’t string a full sentence together as your heart pounded in your ears, breathing irregular to compensate for the rush of oxygen to your brain. He laughed as you stuttered a denial. 

“Speaking of trouble, have you been attending your duties, sorella? Did you go to Copia’s seminar?” he stepped back again out of your personal space, allowing you to breathe normally once again. 

“Sì, Papa.” 

“And was he... happy to see you?” he asked, arching a brow. His tone confused you, like he expected a specific reaction. But Terzo was fishing... he suspected the Cardinal had a crush and was doing anything he could to put you in Copia’s way. He was making you dance around him, like the carrot on a string to tempt the donkey.... 

“Uh... I don’t know,” you thought back to the way his face fell when his eyes caught yours, the way his breath caught in his throat and the look of fear as his skin had paled to a grey colour. “Perhaps he was surprised.” 

Terzo’s face screwed up in confused annoyance. He’d expected better from the Cardinal, for him to be more welcoming when he so clearly had missed you around the Ministry. He’d asked Terzo to keep an eye out for you, to tell him immediately if he saw you, after all.  

“Well, I’m glad you’re back to your schedule, mia cara. But you know,” Terzo had a plan... He enjoyed meddling in the Cardinal’s affairs, and well, anyone’s ... “I must insist you attend confessional before today is out.” 

Your heart dropped in your chest. You fought to keep your face neutral, quelling every natural urge to look absolutely petrified of the thought. Because of course he would want you to attend confessional today.  

On a fucking Thursday.  

“It’s been a while, no? If you were gone for four weeks, you must be overdue?” he quizzed.  

“W-well, yes...”   

“We can’t have you falling behind, mia cara. I’m sure you have something to confess to the Dark Lord,” he turned on his expensive Cuban heels, “I must go, I have some uh... business to attend concerning a rather beautiful Librarian,” he began sauntering off into the bookshelves, “By tonight, per favore, sorella !” he called out behind him. 

Just as before, your shoes echoed on the Ministry floors as you walked to the Chapel. Except tonight, they felt louder and louder, ringing in your ears with each step. Your legs carried you on autopilot, unable to disobey a Papa’s direct instruction.  

Why did he choose tonight of all nights? It felt like returning to the scene of a crime... You didn’t know what you were going to say, what you could possibly confess to the Cardinal this evening that you’d done in the last few weeks when quite obviously you hadn’t done anything at all... 

The Chapel was steeped in dim candlelight, completely void of any signs of life. You stood in the doorway for a moment, staring like a deer caught in headlights at the booth at the other end of the room. A shiver ran over your spine, a nasty reminder that you were supposed to move, to go and sit in that infernal wooden box next to the source of your embarrassment, your fear... your lust.  

Because of course, despite your efforts to pretend he didn’t exist, your brain liked to remind you at night that he most certainly did. Except now, the grunts and groans of his pleasure were accurate, burned into your memory and used against you as a weapon as you slept.  

With a push, you entered the Chapel, somehow speed-walking to sit inside the booth beside the Cardinal who jumped at the sound of the door slamming shut a little too hard. You wasted no time.  

“Bless me, Cardinal, I have sinned,” you deadpanned.  

Beside you, the Cardinal sat bolt upright, eyes staring into his peripheral vision, afraid to make a move and look directly at the shadow beside him. If he made any sudden movements, perhaps you’d disappear in a puff of smoke... 

He cleared his throat quietly.     “Which of the sins have you committed, Sorella?” He stuck to his duty, as you stuck to yours. He wasn’t about to risk trying to have any other kind of conversation with you right now. Perhaps he could try after...  

But what the fuck would he even say to you? He wanted so desperately to apologise, but he couldn’t completely clear his conscience without admitting to everything that’s happened since the last time you sat beside each other in this damned booth. And there was no way he could do that, not without the promise that the ground would open up beneath his feet and plunge him into the deepest pit of hell the second he finished confessing. 

Beside him, you waited a moment, trying to think of something to confess to, but your mind was screaming the same thing at you.     Lust. Lust. Lust. Lust. LUST.  

“Sloth, Cardinal,” you huffed, “I’ve neglected my duties.” Coward, you scolded yourself. Not that it was a lie, of course. But... you couldn’t just own up to the worst of your sins. 

Copia’s shoulders relaxed next to him, a sigh leaving his lips. Part of him was terrified you might say lust again – he wasn’t sure he could take that torture. 

“Do you wish to elaborate, sorella? Is there a reason for your sloth?” he asked, as if he was trying to hurt himself further. He knew it was him – he was the reason. You were avoiding him, disgusted by him.  

“I did something terrible, and... I’ve been hiding,” you admitted. The cardinal was confused... What could you, his sweet sorella, have possibly done that was so terrible? Lucifer, you didn’t mean him? Were you that horrified by him?   

“Sorella, there’s no need to hide, you... uh...” he couldn’t think straight, his heartbeat rising in his chest as he panicked. He didn’t know what to say... Almost as if he were to absolve you of your sins but that wasn’t what confessional was for? But he wanted so badly to comfort you, to tell you it was okay, that he was so sorry... So very sorry for putting you in that position all those weeks ago.  

And on the other side of the lattice, there you sat, feeling sorry for ever entering the booth that night, for pushing him into such a situation with a member of his congregation, for defiling his position as Cardinal.  

Both two different sides of exactly the same coin. 

“I... I can’t do this, Cardinal. I’m sorry...” you rushed, pushing your way out of the booth and running through the Chapel. Copia sat for a moment, frozen in shock and disappointment when his body reacted before his mind could.   

He got up, and chased you. Out through the Chapel, down the hall where the clacking of your shoes was still echoing off the marble. But he kept running, desperately trying to find you without tripping on his cassock. He had to find you. He couldn’t let you stay like this, so angry and disgusted at him. He needed to apologise, even if that meant admitting to all the rest...    

“Sorella, wait!” he called, the halls empty for the time of evening it was. He was grateful, chasing a mere shadow through the halls like a predator on the hunt for his prey. Except that’s the last thing he wanted you to feel; hunted.  

You found it too difficult to run in your habit, far too long for you. You cursed as you stumbled, somehow managing to stay on your feet in the pursuit of your dorm but the Cardinal was faster than he looked, and before you knew what had happened you felt a grip on your arm dragging you into a nearby door, letting go as soon as you’d been almost flung into the room.   

The door slammed, and the Cardinal stood against it, breathless and looking distraught.  

“Cardinal, don’t make me s-” you wanted to apologise, to beg to spare you the shame of saying aloud what you’d been thinking since that first confessional... but he interrupted you.   “Sorella, mi dispiace if I frightened you, but I owe you an ap-” 

“Cardinal please, I can’t-”    “Mia cara, just listen...” he begged, but neither of you could get a word in edgeways.  

“I’m sorry, okay? I can’t help it, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable...” you cried, eyes filling with tears as you yelled your sorrows at him.     “What? What are you-” his confusion painted his features, hardened lines forming in his face.  

“Y-you’ve always been so good to me, and I don’t want to make you feel awkward or put you through that ever again. I should never have made you do that, I’m so ashamed of myself,” you rabbited on, wailing at him with four weeks of pent-up embarrassment spewing out your mouth. But the Cardinal stared at you as the cogs in his brain turned, realising what you were actually apologising for.  

“Are you sorry for your dream, mia cara?” he asked you softly, taking a step to stand of his own accord instead of leaning his back against the closed door.  

“Yes!” you yelled, “That and... well... what happened. It was too far, I put you in such an uncomfortable position and that’s not fair of me at all. Cardinal please forgive me, I’m trying not to have these thoughts-”     “You’re still having them?” his head cocked to the side, eyes squinting as he processed your rantings. 

“Well, um... I... yes, but I’m working on it, I’m trying to busy myself with other things and I thought that maybe if I hid for a while that I could stop it, not that I could look you in the eyes again anyway after what I did, and...” 

Copia had heard enough. He strode towards you through the rows of desks and chairs surrounding him, pressing the palm of his glove to your mouth to quiet you and in turn, pushing you to lean back against the solid oak desk behind you.     “Sorella, please...” 

That moment, singularly, was the beginning of your downfall. When you felt the leather of his glove press against your lips, his body pressing against yours as you stumbled back, and you whined against his hand...  

Copia’s eyes widened, like he hadn’t expected that at all. His movements were not meant to be at all provocative in nature; he had simply panicked, needing you to hush so he could speak, to apologise and not knowing how else to do so. But now... Well, he could see the crimson colour of your cheeks under his glove, matched with the look of shock on your own face. That noise; it was completely involuntary. But it came from a place of lust...    Of submission. 

A beat of silence passed between you, the air appearing to be sucked out of the room completely, suffocating you both where you stood. Your screamed at yourself inside your head, cursing how pathetically easily you had succumbed to the slightest touch and showed your hand before any kind of game had truly even begun.  

“You must learn when to quiet this pretty mouth of yours and listen...” The cardinal tested his limits, watching your response. He noticed the way your chest rose and fell deeply and slowly beneath him, and how your eyes softened a little as they scanned his face and found no real anger there, only the hint of a smirk. “Now, give me a nod or a shake of your head, eh? I want to ask you a few things. Nod if you understand.”  

You nodded, his hand still pressed firmly to your mouth.  

“Are you still having these dreams, Sorella?” You shut your eyes now, embarrassed, and slowly nodded your head.     “And are you still... enjoying these dreams?” he spoke slowly, deliberately. You nodded again, hesitant. 

“And have you acted on these dreams since, tesoro?” You took a few deep breaths before answering again; a slow, ashamed, but deliberate nod.  

Copia sucked a lungful of oxygen in through his teeth, watching your eyes on him as he did. His head swam in a dizzying array of images; thoughts of the dream you had told him about in such detail, thoughts of you alone at night thinking of him, touching yourself for him. As he exhaled, he looked away from you, breaking the eye contact you held in fear and finally looking around the room.  

The seminar room...  

… from your dream.  

A wicked smirk spread across the Cardinal’s face, and as you followed his gaze around the room, you realised why. You dare not move, holding your breath as he turned back to you, his beautifully monochrome eyes hooded and boring down into yours. 

“It’s here, no?” he asked. You didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. “This is where your fantasia (fantasy) takes place, eh? Answer me, tesoro. ..”  

You nodded against his hand again, shame flooding your cheeks with warmth. The stirring in your abdomen was growing the longer he stood pressing you into the desk behind you. It was maddening.  

“I press you against this desk in that dream, hm?” he knocked on the wood you leaned on with his free hand, in turn pressing just a little tighter against you. You could feel his body heat through his cassock, and it served to focus your own heat between your legs... “Will you remind me, mia cara , what exactly did I do here?” 

Slowly, he removed his hand from your mouth to let you answer him with words – except, you could find none. You stuttered and fumbled as you stared into his eyes, his face so close to yours you could smell his cologne stronger than you ever had. It was utterly intoxicating, a sweet yet smoky aroma. 

“Come, now, dolcezza ... Don’t hold out on me now, hm?” The back of his fingers met your cheek, lightly grazing the blush soothingly. “What. Did. I. do?”  

There was no escaping this, not that you wanted to. You were so close, your dream practically coming true before you. You may not be able to forgive yourself for pushing your Cardinal over the lines of professionalism all those weeks ago, but here he was, quite obviously flirting with you, enticing you.  

Tempting you.  

And you would never forgive yourself for fumbling this, for running and hiding once again. And that guilt would be worse, embedded with more shame and embarrassment than ever before. 

“You... were kissing me...” you whispered. The Cardinal smiled – not the dirty little smirk from before, more of a satisfactory smile, sweeter.  

“Tesoro, I’ll only ask you once – and whatever the answer, I will respect it,” he began, some nerves starting to bubble up in his chest. He feared rejection more than anything, having been rejected his entire life. Could he take it if you rejected him too? He wasn’t sure, but he had to try...  “Would you like me to kiss you?” 

Your chest bloomed with warmth, eyes flickering down to his half-painted lips and back to his eyes, somehow looking more puppy-dog like as the seconds ticked by. You realised then, he was scared of you saying no. Scared...   

But you could never deny your Cardinal.  

Words had failed you, that much was clear. And so, you opted for almost involuntary action, slowly leaning forwards against him until your lips barely grazed his. Copia could have sworn he felt his lips tingle where they’d brushed with yours; such a fleeting touch, unsure of yourself but it was all the answer he needed.  

He leaned in again, pressing his lips to yours for a kiss that took your breath away... His lips melded into yours with such a longing, both of you easily losing yourself in the moment. Just as in your dream, you sank into him, your hands gripping onto his cassock as he deepened the kiss. His arms had snaked around your waist, pulling your hips flush against him as he hummed into your mouth. 

Just as you imagined every night, one of his hands came to remove your veil, letting your hair fall freely while he worked his way past your lips with his tongue, gently mixing with your own as you fell further into him. You whined at the sensation, feeling his hands regroup and tighten on your waist as you did.  

He pulled away from you breathless, the black paint of his top lip smudged slightly. He pressed his forehead to yours, searching your eyes for any sign you wanted to back out, but finding nothing.  

“You look so beautiful without your veil, dolcezza...” he whispered before he could stop himself. Mentally, he scolded himself for being such a lovesick idiota, but the way you looked into his eyes and smiled was everything he had hoped for. He twirled a strand of your hair in his fingers, watching it as he curled it around the leather. “I had no idea you had all this under there, eh?” he chuckled, “ bellissima (beautiful).”  

He dropped the strand and instead came to hold your chin between this thumb and finger.  

“Now tell me, what happens next in that dream of yours again?” Your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to punch straight through your ribs to get to him. This was happening. This wasn’t you pushing him into anything, you weren’t undermining his authority. He wanted this. He wanted you.   

“Your hands... they slide up my habit...” you muttered, shy.  

“Like this?” he narrated, crouching momentarily to hook his hand under your habit, trailing slowly up your leg until the skirt hung lopsided around your upper thigh. You nodded at him, watching as his eyes never left yours. “And do I touch you here, mia cara? ” His palm cupped your mound over your panties, and he could feel the searing heat emanating from your core through the leather of his glove.  

The noise you made was involuntary – a soft gasp that made his already half-hard length twitch with interest beneath the heavy wool of his clothes. He didn’t wait for you to answer him, his question more of a rhetorical tease. Instead, he slid his hand against you, pressing against your entrance while his palm sat heavy against your clitoris.  

“Cardinal...” you breathed, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting to a perfectly round ‘O’.  

He continued to tease for a moment, enjoying the soft mewls and sharp breaths you took each time he would alternate the pressure between his palm and his fingers. But he only had so much control, after weeks of pining, of dreaming of you, fucking his damn pillows to the memory and the scent of you. 

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down your legs and letting them hit the floor around your feet. Without wasting a second or daring to look away from the blissful expression on your face, he dipped his fingers between your folds, dragging them painfully slowly through the mess you had made for him. The choked moan you let out at the sensation of that damned glove sliding through rang out against the stone walls of the seminar room.  

Copia collected some of your mess on his glove, lifting his hand into the dim candlelight of the room to see the way it shined. It reminded him of the moment he’d found your sodden glove in the booth, how it left the darker wet marks where he’d held it. Except this time, he was blessed enough to have it right from the source.  

“ Splendido... (splendid)” he mumbled, before you opened your eyes to watch him bring his shimmering glove to his lips, tasting what he’d taken. The way he groaned at the sweetness had you clenching around nothing, fisting the cassock you still had such a tight grip on. “I can’t deny myself, dolcezza ... Not anymore.” 

Before you had time to linger on his words – not anymore... - he dropped to his knees in front of you, as if ready to worship. He adjusted the skirt of your habit for you to hold around your hips, still covering your modesty for now. Both his hands slid up your thighs, parting them as he slotted in-between, finally coming to uncover you for him. 

The way you glistened for him made his concealed erection throb, and as much as he wanted to dive in and devour you whole, he didn’t want to rush this. He’d waited too long to be sloppy here. Instead, he pressed his lips to your inner thighs, enjoying the way they trembled in anticipation. Slowly, he made his way up, his breath tickling and warming the trail of wet he’d left with his tongue.  

Finally, his lips pressed against your mound. As painful as it was to have him tease, to gently kiss you where you so desperately needed more, you were grateful for any contact at all after the weeks of anguish believing he held no feelings other than disappointment and disgust for you.  

When the Cardinal at your feet finally allowed his tongue to slip between your folds, you couldn’t help the hand that flew to knock his biretta off his head, grasping at the peppered grey hair that grew beneath it. He groaned against you; at your taste, at your heat, at your grip. It was all so wonderfully intoxicating.  

As he let himself bury his tongue in you, he lifted one of your thighs over his shoulder for better access for him, and stability for you. He wrapped his arm around that thigh, gripping on for dear life as if you’d disappear on him again. But you were going nowhere anytime soon... 

As he mouthed at your clit, he couldn’t help the grunts and groans that rumbled like thunder against you, vibrating through you. You threw your head back in pleasure, uncaring of how loud your moans and whimpers were.  

When Copia started to slide his middle finger through your folds below his tongue, you almost collapsed back onto the desk. He pressed against your entrance, slowly allowing his leather-clad finger to slide inside you. He never stopped his tongue, never came up for breath.  

When he had his ring finger join the other, you began to see stars. He filled you so well, scissoring inside you and curling up towards that glorious spot inside you that no other had ever found.  

“C-Cardinal... ahh,” you whimpered. It fuelled him further, hearing his title fall from your lips above him. It was all too much for him; your taste, your grip. And now that? Oh, how sinful it sounded, how beautiful, like the prettiest songbird singing its morning melody.  

He was ashamed to admit that what you were doing to him had such a tight grasp on his sanity, he was losing himself in his mind and his body was following suit. While he had no friction, no pressure, nothing to help the painful need in his crotch, he was so close...  

In his reverie, he lifted your other thigh over his shoulder, burying his face further into you as he continued using his fingers to bring you closer and closer to the edge. You had to grip the desk under you to steady yourself, allowing his animalistic urges to take total control of your body. This was nothing like your dream.  

This was so much better.  

His tongue lavished against your clit unforgivingly, lips circling and suckling from time to time as he drank you in.  

“F-fuck, Cardinal... I can’t,” you begged for nothing above him, so close to the edge, dangling by a splintering branch over a deep canyon that was ready to snap at any moment. You couldn’t help the way you bucked your hips anymore, or the way you ground your pussy down into his face, his nose becoming a tool for pleasure as much as his tongue, lips and chin.  

That splintering branch snapped clean off when he growled into you, and suddenly you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, back slamming down into the hard wood of the desk behind you. If you felt any pain at all, it didn’t show – you were too busy writhing and squeezing your thighs around poor Copia’s head.  

What you didn’t know, was that the growl that had pushed you into your earth-shattering orgasm had been a growl not only of lust, but of anger. At himself.  

Beneath you, Copia was squeezing your thigh with the hand that wasn’t buried inside you, desperately trying to stop himself... But his poor, untouched cock had violently flinched beneath his cassock before spilling a hot load of his seed. Copia had cum just from eating you out.  

If he didn’t feel like a pathetic pervert before tonight, he certainly did now. Who cums from just going down on a woman?  

Oh, but you were not just any woman, were you? Not to him. You were the woman he pined over, stressed over, cried over, came over every fucking night for four wretched weeks. What it was about you, he wasn’t sure, but the Cardinal had never been so besotted with a woman in his life. Dare he say it, it had started long before that night in the confessional booth... He had been drawn to you since the day you took your vows.  

And no, he just couldn’t help himself.  

You lay on the desk, catching your breath and waiting for your head to stop spinning as your limbs went lifeless around him, one slipping from his shoulder. He detached himself from your core and stood up, readjusting himself in his pants for a more comfortable position now that the wet patch in his underwear was beginning to seep through to bloom into a deep red stain on his cassock. But there was no getting comfortable with his softening cock confined and covered in his own spend.  

He stepped towards you, between your legs and reached for your hand with the glove that wasn’t still glistening with your arousal. He lifted it to his completely smudged lips, peppering the back of it with chaste kisses as you came to.  

“Mia cara... are you... okay?” he mumbled between kisses. You hummed an affirmative response back, your mind still foggy in post-orgasm haze.  

Copia continued peppering kisses to the back of your hand, to each fingertip, your wrist, a little way up your arm and back down as he waited patiently for you to come back around to him. Eventually, you sat up, pushing your habit down to cover your modesty once again. He held your hand in his, gazing up into your eyes with a soft expression you couldn’t quite read. 

When you really looked at him, you couldn’t help but giggle. His paint was smudged around his mouth, a grey hue painting him from his nose to his chin, and his hair was so dishevelled he looked as if he had been dragged through a hedge.  

“What’s so funny, cara ?” he smiled with you, the kind of smile you can’t keep off your face when someone you adore is laughing near you.  

“You look a mess,” you laughed, smoothing out the parts of his hair that were sticking up.  

“Ah, sì, you have quite a grip,” he chuckled, looking away for a moment, suddenly bashful. “I trust that was not so bad, eh?” he bit his lip as he waited for your response, a little smug smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. 

“Better than my dream, Cardinal,” you shyly admitted. “But um... my dream doesn’t end there...” 

Copia’s smile dropped, realising what you were hinting at. You weren’t done yet... You wanted more from him. But in order to perform, he would have to reveal what you so far had missed.  

Before he could protest, your hand was cupping his bulge under his cassock, but as you pressed your palm there, your eyes grew wide, and your gaze dropped to look at what you’d felt.  

Wet.   

“Uh... mi dispiace, sorella... (I’m sorry, sister...) I... I couldn’t, um...”  

Someone had stoked the dissipating fire inside you once again, and a flame began to burn. You weren’t sure if it was knowing that Copia had cum in his pants at the taste of you, or if it was his dumbstruck look as he tried to rectify the situation with words but knowing he had been so enamoured with you that he’d reached his end even whilst neglected... that was hotter than you could have ever imagined.  

“What was it, Cardinal?” you interrupted him. He silenced quickly, cocking his head in confusion. “Was it how I sounded?” You pressed your palm to the soft bulge beneath you, not at all bothered by the wet fabric. 

“Was it how I tasted?” you asked, your confidence growing as his eyes widened in shock.  

“Was it how I pulled your hair?” The heel of your palm dug into him, rotating in a small circle over his cock.  

“Was it, how my thighs tightened around your head?” You heard him moan softly as you stared into his eyes. His cock was beginning to twitch in interest again.  

“Or was it how my pussy clenched around your fingers?”   

That did it. Without a word, the man before you wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you to him to crash your lips together. You’d awoken something inside him, a beast that he’d been keeping tame until now. Between desperate clashes of lips and tongues, Copia began to tease you back. 

“You want to know what it was, tesoro?” he panted against your lips like a dog in heat, “it was the thought that not only did I have you right where I wanted you,” he paused for another heated kiss, “ finally tasting what I’ve been desiring for so long,” and another, “but that I had infiltrated this pretty little head of yours, corrupted the sweetest of all the sorelle... I got to make you, mine...”   

You whimpered at his words, knowing every single one was no lie. But hearing Copia call you his had you arching your back to press against him, your hips desperately seeking him out and your lips messily found his again.  

 Terzo yawned as he walked down the halls of the ministry, the days of solid paperwork and papal duties - not the mention his library rendezvous earlier that day... - catching up to him as he slogged back to his quarters. The halls were dark, silent. He didn’t rush – he didn’t have the energy to. His mind wandered as he dawdled, taking in the stained glass around him with every step he took.   

He rounded a corner, and thought he could hear shuffling coming from inside one of the seminar rooms. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at the thought of having to put on his big scary Papa voice and tell whoever was out of bounds this late to go back to their dorms. Why did they make him work so hard, eh?   

As he drew closer to the door of a room he presumed was the one inhabited, he heard voices. He reached for the doorknob, until the voices registered, and he realised... These were voices he recognised...  

“Uh... mi dispiace, sorella... (I’m sorry, sister...) I... I couldn’t, um...” Was that Cardinal Copia he heard stammering away in there like a moron? Well, as a higher up member of the clergy, he was okay to be out of bounds at this hour. Terzo shrugged to himself and started to turn away from the door – whatever the Cardinal was up to in there was his business. And frankly, Terzo was too tired to even realise he had been speaking to someone...    

“What was it, Cardinal?” Terzo stopped, his brows pulling together in thought. That had sounded like you, Sister _____?  What would she be doing alone with the Cardinal at this hour?   

Terzo was now intrigued, and hung around for a moment. 

“Was it how I sounded?” What on earth was she talking about?   

“Was it how I tasted?” Terzo’s eyes widened, his jaw falling open. Had he heard that right?  

“Was it how I pulled your hair?” This was not the same Sorella _____ he knew, surely not? Such filth spilling from her mouth... He almost felt a swell of pride in his chest. 

“Was it, how my thighs tightened around your head?” Terzo all but jumped with giddiness at the door, keeping himself as quiet as possible to not alert those inside. He heard the Cardinal moan the most pathetic little sound, and slapped his gloved hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Oh, fratellino, you are down BAD...    

“Or was it how my pussy clenched around your fingers?”  

Terzo’s hand dropped when his jaw hit the floor, completely taken aback by your brazen use of such a sinful phrase. He’d clearly stumbled upon something already in motion... Suddenly, he heard a quick shuffle, followed by a suppressed moan from you and a hungry growl from the Cardinal. Terzo jumped away from the door as if it had burst into flames.  

Now, Terzo was certainly a pervert. But he was not about to eavesdrop on his brother fraternising with a sister of sin. He recoiled at the thought, shivering as he backed away to the far wall of the opposite corridor. He stood frozen for a moment, his body not reacting anywhere near fast enough.   

“You want to know what it was, tesoro?.... It was the thought that not only did I have you right where I wanted you... but I had infiltrated this pretty little head of yours, corrupted the sweetest of all the sorelle... I got to make you, mine...”  

That did it. Terzo turned and bolted down the corridor to get away from the lip-smacking sounds and the whines you let slip.  

As he rounded the corner and managed to get away from the noises that frankly would now haunt him in his dreams, he couldn’t help but feel a little... proud.    

That had been his doing. He’d pushed them together, forced them into each other’s presence knowing how absolutely pitiful and sciocco (foolish) the pair of you were being. Terzo certainly wasn’t blind – he'd seen the Cardinal’s affections, saw how your absence had affected him so. Now he was beginning to think your disappearance may even have had to do with him, in some way. Avoiding him, perhaps?  

Not that it mattered. For now, he was proud that his fratellino was making a move – however mentally scarring that move had been to overhear. 

And he told you that you were his, too. The meaning of that may have been lost in the moment, but it certainly wasn’t lost on Terzo. Copia meant that with every fibre of his being.  

He smiled to himself as he continued to walk to his chambers. For all the teasing and all the jokes Terzo made at Copia’s expense as they were growing up, he had to admit, he turned out alright in the end. His goofy little half-brother who kept his secret Beanos and drank his little juice boxes. He chuckled to himself – he certainly was proud of him. And finally, someone else saw him for more than a bumbling idiot. Someone finally didn’t underestimate him the way the rest of the ministry did.  

“Ben fatto (good job) , Terzo,” he smirked to himself. His little plan had worked; albeit, far sooner than expected, and just a little too well. 

He would be working hard this evening to forget what he’d just overheard...

Copia’s grip on your thighs around his hips tightened as he deepened your kiss, the leather of his gloves tightening and squeaking over his taught hands. You were sure he would leave bruises with how hard he held you, pulling you flush against him until your core pressed against his hardening length. You didn’t care though; any mark he left on you was like a badge of honour.  

“Dolcezza, what do you want from me, eh?” he pleaded, breathless as he trailed open mouthed kisses along your jaw and to your neck, never once disconnecting his lips along the way.   

“All of you, Cardinal...” you practically sang, “ please...”   

He hummed against your neck, lost entirely to his visceral need to devour you whole. You threaded your hands in his hair again, holding him tight to you as you let your head fall back, enjoying the kisses, the nips and bites, the suckling against your skin that bloomed in beautiful red and purple patches. 

Copia stood upright for a moment, biting at the leather on his right hand to free himself of his glove and spitting it to one side before he lay his palm on your cheek. He drank you in with his eyes, hooded and blown out with lust. You nuzzled into him instinctively searching out his touch, your lips finding his thumb to pepper kisses to the tip. It felt oddly intimate, more so than having his face buried between your thighs.  

No one ever saw the Cardinal – or any clergy member, for that matter – without their gloves. Their bare touch was saved for those they devoted it to, and here he was, baring himself to you . 

You pressed a final kiss to his thumb, before allowing your tongue to lave over the pad of it, your lips following to engulf his thumb in the warmth of your mouth. Copia hummed in front of you, his other hand squeezing your thigh tightly as he watched. 

“Cosa ho fatto per meritarti, tesoro? (What did I do to deserve you, sweetheart?)” he groaned, pushing his thumb to smear your spit over your lips, adoring the way they glistened for him in the low light. “I want to give you all of me,” he slid his hand to your neck, a wet trail left along your skin by the saliva still on his thumb, and gripped tight enough to send a wave of excitement through you. “Every last inch...” 

You whined for him again, as your body seemed to do of its own accord, and let him capture your lips in another kiss. You could no longer stand it – you needed him, like the moon needs the sun to glow brightly in the night.   

Hastily, you reached for the buttons of his cassock, making quick work of them until he could shrug out of the heavy red wool and let it fall to the floor. He helped you then, to remove his jacket underneath while you focussed on freeing his length.  

“A little messy, mi dispiace ,” he smirked, not sorry at all for the mess he’d made when he now knew how much that had turned you on. On another occasion, you would have liked to sink to your knees, clean him up and ready him for what came next but there was no time for that. Messy or not, you simply needed him.  

You didn’t even attempt to remove his pants, instead pushing them just a little further down his hips to allow you to reach into his underwear and take him in your hand. He hissed through his teeth like you’d scalded him, but instead rocking his hips to chase your touch. He had been correct, there was certainly a mess in there – one that coated your hand as you pulled his erection free and pumped along his length once, twice...  

“ Cazzo... (Fuck...)” he groaned.  

As your hand moved, you let your eyes wonder over his body, half exposed to you now. The physique you had dreamed of wasn’t far off, except he had a little more muscle definition than your imagination had given him credit for, particularly in the two lines that framed his abdomen, leading down to where your hand worked him over. But what caught your eye most of all, was the strange tattoo that sat over his heart, hidden by a thin layer of grey-speckled chest hair.  

Three 6’s, in a spiral, marked into his chest for eternity. Your free hand traced the black lines, fingertips grazing over it making him shiver at your touch. You didn’t ask about it, there was no need. He had kept it covered, hidden from knowledge of anyone else until right now – you were the only person he ever wanted to be this vulnerable to. Someday though, you might ask him about that...  

Copia moved to remove his other glove, letting it drop to the floor beside him with the rest of his garments. His red pants still clung to his thighs, and he struggled to draw his eyes away from where your hand stroked his cum-covered cock lazily.  

With one long, drawn out stroke back up his length, you lifted your hand – smeared in his mess – and pressed two of your fingers to your tongue, sucking the mess from them as you held his eye contact. His expression darkened, baring his teeth to you like an animal as he smirked, watching you lick and suck every last bit of his essence from your hand. A fire raged within you, like lava spewing through your veins at the quiet yet guttural groan he unleashed. 

In a flash, he was dragging you to the edge of the desk where you sat, both hands burrowing into the soft flesh of your hips. His hips slowly rocked against you, cock dragging through the plentiful juices you’d left for him. You hummed at the feeling of some contact, particularly the feeling of the veins and ridges of his hardness. You needed him inside you, filling you. You couldn’t drag this out anymore; it was like torture. Worse than torture.  

“Please, Cardinal...” you begged. And how could he deny you when you’d asked so nicely?  

“Kiss me, bella,” he huffed, his focus snatched away by the hypnotising sight of his cock sliding through your folds as he teased. It was as if he could only be diverted by your lips, that he couldn’t drag his attention away voluntarily.  

You grabbed him by the jaw with one hand, crushing your lips to his desperately. He growled again, the weeping head of his cock catching on your entrance and slowly, finally, he began to push inside...  

Your jaw went slack, kiss long forgotten as your eyes squeezed shut and you let out a staggered moan into his mouth.  

“ Sono qui, tesoro... (I’m here, sweetheart...)” he assured, holding your hips flush to him with a hand on the small of your back. He struggled to keep himself still, buried to the hilt and desperate to move, but you needed a moment. The feeling was overwhelming, stretched to the brink of pain and pleasure, dangling dangerously there as you got used to him.  

It was a true testament to his self-control and his character that he waited for you – as soon as his length had been buried in your tight, wet warmth he thought he was a goner. He figured that this was it – this was the glorious afterlife he’d been promised, that he prayed to Lucifer for day in, day out. 

Having you pressed against him grounded him as much as he needed. He watched the expression on your face, waiting for any sign of discomfort, of regret. He found none, because there was none to give. His lips hovered above yours, enjoying the warmth of your breath as you moaned for him.  

You were wearing too many clothes still for his liking; he wanted to be unbearably close to you, to feel the warmth of your skin on his, see you in all your glory. Still buried deep inside you, he used one of his hands to unbutton your habit, slowly revealing more flesh to him, kissing down your exposed chest until he could reach no further down.  

He was so gentle with you, so patient. He fought the urges to thrust into you, to take what he so desperately wanted from you. He simply wanted this to be perfect, and the thought had your eyes glazing with an adoration that went beyond a silly little wet dream. 

As your own way of signalling you were okay, you wanted more, you shimmied out of your now open habit, letting it pool around you where you sat, and pulled the straps of your bra down, unclipping it at the back.  

He watched your slow movements, tracing patterns on your skin with his fingertips. “ Più bella di quanto avrei mai potuto immaginare (more beautiful than I ever could have imagined),” he whispered, pressing his lips to your sternum, feeling your heart beating against him. If only he had known he felt this way, that it was more than just lust – if he had admitted that to himself... 

“ Copia ...” you whined, the first time you’d called him by his name all evening... His heart swelled, smiling against the swell of your breast between kisses. “ Per favore, h-ho bisogno d-di te... (Please, I need you...)” you stuttered in broken Italian, piecing together bits you had picked up in your time in the Ministry, but he knew – oh , he knew what you were saying.  

“ Qualsiasi cosa per te, amore mio (anything for you, my love),” he replied, sweetly pressing his lips to yours as he cradled your face in his hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck and sunk into him, only for him to begin moving his hips, slowly pulling back from where he had been buried deep within your warmth for a few minutes now at least... 

You mewled into his kiss, letting your tongues dance together so beautifully. It wasn’t until he had slid almost completely away from you that he pushed his way back in, gliding almost effortlessly in the slick you’d created for him. He built his movements over a few slow thrusts, gradually setting a pace that would never bring you to any kind of climax, but enough that the two of you were swirling in pleasure, able to enjoy your first moments anchored together.   

Copia’s lips never left yours, not to allow moans the freedom to escape or to allow his lungs the freedom to breathe. You were totally, utterly enamoured with each other.  

With every roll of his hips, you edged closer and closer to a point of begging for more, begging for a means to an end. He was struggling to keep himself composed, too scared to frighten you off if he unleashed what had built inside him for the last four weeks.  

“Copia, m-more... please...” you begged, finally separating the two of you to hazily look in his beautifully distinct eyes, show him the desperation in your own.  

“Amore, if I let go, I’m not sure I can control myself...” he warned, still forcing himself to stay at the pace he’d set.  

“Then lose yourself, Cardinal... Take me,” you offered yourself to him, trusting completely that he would never do anything you didn’t desperately want yourself.  

With no further encouragement needed, and a whisper of “ Cazzo, Sathanas perdonami ... (fuck, Sathanas forgive me...) ” he picked up his pace, effortlessly sliding into you over and over until the tops of his thighs were smacking into the underside of yours. The sounds ricocheted off the stone walls around you, a sinful mix of whines, pants, grunts and skin slapping on skin swirling in the air around you.  

The hands laying loose around his shoulders slid into his hair, pulling tight to press his forehead to yours. The desk beneath you groaned and creaked under the force, scraping along the floors with each hit. Your Cardinal’s cock filled you so deliciously, his hips angled to hit the back of your cervix and the top of your pussy where that tantalising sweet spot lay.  

“I wanted you for so long, amore mio...” he confessed, “so completely, like un patetico bastardo (a pathetic bastard).” He grit his teeth together, grunting like an animal as he fucked into you. He fought the urge to push you back down against the desk and lift your thighs up, spreading you open as much as possible for him, wanting to savour the closeness, the way he could feel your breath beading in condensation on his neck.  

“S-six months...” It was your turn to confess. “I’d b-been dreaming of... you... for six months...” you cried out as he slammed into you harder, fuelled by your admission.  

“ Bella , you’ll be the end of me, eh?” he chuckled between pants of breathlessness. “ Adesso sono tutto tuo (now I’m all yours...)”   

The coil in your abdomen wound impossibly tighter, threatening to fracture at any moment with the way he rolled his hips up into you, filling you deliciously with each pistoning motion. You felt the ripples from each violent thrust over and over against your clit where his body met yours, and the way his nails dug into your flesh, no doubt leaving bruises with deep crescent shapes imprinted in your skin.  

“C-can’t... hold...” you could barely string a sentence together in your current state, “ fuck...”   

“Cum for me, amore. Cum for your Cardinal, eh?” he roared. And well, you couldn’t stop yourself if you wanted to.  

Fire spread from your core through every nerve ending, spanning your entire body and you squealed and writhed against him. He never faltered, not missing a single beat as you shook and spilled around his cock. The way your walls fluttered around him, squeezed him impossibly tighter made every thrust a struggle, but he fought it – he couldn’t let you down now.  

He tensed his body, staving off another orgasm as long as he possibly could. He wanted you to revel in yours, wanted to watch you come undone on his cock like he’d dreamed of so many times. A litany of profanities and mumblings of his name spilled in incoherent babble as your limbs turned to jelly, barely clinging onto him to stay upright. If you were to fall back or forward, you were to choose forward, slumping against his sweaty chest, your head sitting where his neck met his shoulder.  

In your tired and overstimulated state, all you could do for him was mouth at the skin there, leaving sloppy kisses while your pussy continued to pulse around him until eventually, he gripped your chin tightly to lift your head and crash his lips to yours. He growled into your mouth, hips stuttering and slowing – he had cum inside you, needing to taste you again as he did so.  

With his final few thrusts, his spend leaked from around his cock, mixing with your own climax. He punctuated each thrust with a hum of satisfaction, until he couldn’t take the movement anymore, his cock too sensitive to continue. Still, he didn’t remove himself. Not yet...  

Somehow you both slumped together, keeping each other upright with your body weight alone. Your chests rose and fell together, trying to regulate your breathing to have an opportunity to speak at all. But honestly? The pair of you were happy in your blissful silence together for a moment. 

After a few minutes, it was you who spoke first. 

“I thought you would hate me...” you sighed against his shoulder. Copia’s brows furrowed together, and he stood himself up removing his softening length from you, holding you by your shoulders to get a good look at you.  

“Why would you ever think that, amore mio?” he asked, genuinely confused.  

“I thought I had overstepped, that night in the confessional. I thought you were ashamed, disgusted...” you drooped your head in sadness at the memory of him excusing you so abruptly that evening.  

“No... not with you, never you , tesoro,” he assured. “At myself, sì? I assumed you would despise how I took advant-” 

“Cardinal no, you didn’t... Sathanas, we’re both really stupid, aren’t we?” you chuckled, shaking your head at your antics.    “Idioti innamorati (idiots in love),” he laughed, until he realised what he’d actually just said – and then the colour drained from his face, his eyes blowing out wide in horror.  

You smiled softly, taking his hands from your shoulders and pulling him to take a step closer to you.     “Idioti innamorati,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to the end of his nose, still greyed from the smudging of his paints. Copia smiled sheepishly, a warmth spreading in his chest. He hadn’t felt like this before, much less ever had someone reciprocate his feelings. He felt strangely at peace, more so than he ever had.  

“Tesoro, promise me something, eh?” he asked. You nodded, willing him to continue. “Never hide from me again, okay? I damn near lost my mind.”  

You laughed at your idiocy. “I promise, Cardinal.” You leaned forward to press your lips against his, sweetly capturing the moment in a blissful kiss.  

When you pulled apart, he wordlessly helped to gather the garments that had been carelessly removed and dressed you again. You exchanged jokes about the messes you both were, how vile it felt to put your clothes back on with the feeling of your spend seeping from you and his still damp in his underwear... How truly ridiculous you both were.  

“Come, bella. I have a rather large shower cubicle I think we can both put to good use,” he flirted, pulling you to him by your waist now you were both fully dressed. You agreed, taking him by the hand and wondering through the corridors together back to the clergy suites.  

“Besides, I have something of yours I feel I must give back...” Copia laughed at himself, somehow no longer afraid to admit what he had been up to in your absence when he knew now just how depraved your own mind could be.  

Your mind ticked over at what on earth he could possibly mean, until it dawned on you... You had lost your fucking glove.  

“ You pervert!” you accused, smacking his chest playfully as you walked. “Maybe I don’t want it back, Lucifer knows what you’ve done with that thing...” The two of you giggled and flirted your way back, uncaring and unaware of any prying ears that may hear voices late into the night.  

And there were indeed prying ears, albeit accidentally, that perked up at the sound of voices outside his chambers... 

Terzo sat on his couch with a glass of vintage red in his hand, attempting to read a book to take his mind off the sinful noises he’d heard from his fratello earlier that evening. When he recognised the noises, he groaned to himself.  

‘Must they parade around to remind me of that?’ he thought to himself, rolling his eyes and standing to look through the peephole of his door. He saw the two of you waltzing through the dimly lit corridor, hand in hand like teenagers. The dopey look on his brother’s face was, to him, a wonderful sight; so hopelessly enamoured with you as you giggled and laughed together into the night.   

He had always hoped Copia would find someone like you – perhaps that’s why you were the one sister he never tried to bed, the one he felt was off limits to him. Maybe he had always known... but he was glad to see his fratellino acting like himself in your presence. Goofy, dopey Copia. Perhaps now, he could stop looking for approval from those he looked up to and looked down on him, and focus his efforts on simply being himself. After all, he had now found someone who liked him for who he was, not who he hoped to be .  

“Idioti innamorati,” he muttered to himself, chuckling at his win.  

Sì, his fratellino could be himself now – however pathetic he may be...   FIN

A/N: I hope you loved it as much as I loved writing this. This may be my first Ghost fic, but it will NOT be my last - so if you'd like to stick around for more, I'd be incredibly grateful. Send me some head canon requests or some drabble prompts - I'm MORE THAN HAPPY to do those for you. Endless love, Bee 🖤 TAG LIST: @melvilless @copiasprincipessa @siouxbauhaus @edensbuttercups @daughter0fcain @xnothingpersonalx @assassinprocrastinator @funfetti-furby @kadedoesthings @sunbleached-ghoul @gravehags @gbatesx @solluna00 @mae-mei-m @bolliancat @ghulehsin @socksandcr0cs @girlwithissuesworld @fallen-angelito @maccery @wjyndigo @thew0man @a-fools-circus @luxavier @saintedcooper @whatawonderfulexistence--blog @calamity-queen @eternaltiare @moongoore @wagooo @dolceterzo @emeritusing @letstalkstories @sacred-coffin @rainstorms-library @ryos-cruddy-side-blog @fruitmanstyles @relentlessmoon @cardinal-copingmechanism @werich @strawberriiblossoms @evepeve @portaltothevoid @casualghostfan @copias-juicebox @sl1psth3magg0t @enchantedbunny @pedro-pedrito-pascalito

[dracopias-bloodbag]

Bewitched By Bloodlust | Dracopia x F! Reader | V

Chapter V: So Bold, So Sweet

Finding yourself at a crossroads, you feel like your entire life is hinging on this moment. Copia wants you to stay with him, and all you want to do is accept his offer. As a result of your decision, the tension that had been building between the two of you reaches a breaking point that neither of you can turn back from.

chapter content: 4k words. MDNI 18+ ONLY, smut, enemies to lovers, slow(ish) burn, canon divergent (see masterlist for details), dom!copia, dry humping, grinding, biting, blood drinking during sex, p in v, teasing, fingering, praise, degradation, creampie, spanking, glove kink, blood kink

Recommended Listening:

Darkness At The Heart Of My Love – Ghost

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Did you hear him correctly?

Your chest is heaving, your eyes wide as you stare at him, frozen in place as his words rattle around in your head for a moment. 

‘Then stay with me.’

Did he really just say that, is he serious?

“Not as my prisoner but… something more.” He steps closer to you, his hand still outstretched. “You can join us, commit yourself to our dark lord, to our Ministry…. to me.” 

You hesitate as your eyes scan over his painted face, suddenly every line and crease of his face looks perfect to you, like he was carved from marble. Some gorgeous, perfectly macabre statue modeled after some kind of god.

“You can’t possibly be serious, I tried to kill you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“You stopped me.”

He chuckles softly. “Even so, your heart wasn’t in it. You were doing what they wanted you to do.”

His outstretched fingers flex, almost as if they’re itching to feel your touch.

“I can see right through you, streghetta.” He coos. “At your core, you have a gentle heart.”

“I’m sure the rest of The Ministry won’t see it that way.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to worry about that. What do you want, piccolina… what does your heart say?”

Everything inside of you is screaming at you to be honest with him, to lay bare the thoughts that had been plaguing your mind. The thoughts that made you realize you were starting to feel more for this  enigmatic man whom you were supposed to hate. Your eyes flit between his hand, and his eyes, and the way he’s looking at you is enough to make you throw caution to the wind.

Your hand slips into his and his fingers immediately close around yours.

“I want you.”

His eyes remain fixed on you and a muscle in his cheek jumps when he clenches his jaw as he tries to process your words.

“Please, I know you feel it too.” The way his hand feels around yours makes you dizzy, and yet it gives you a confidence you didn’t realize you possessed. “I knew from the moment I first saw you, that night in the forest– I knew I was absolutely fucked.”

His fingers tighten around your hand at your words.

The next thing you know, he’s tugging you closer and suddenly every fantasy, every fleeting thought you ever tried to push out of your head while you laid alone in the dark comes rushing back to you. But just as soon as they reappear, they’re gone as his other hand cups your cheek and he pulls you in towards him. 

His lips are on yours in an instant, muffling your surprised gasp as he releases your hand and instead trails his fingers down your body. His gloved fingers grasp at your hip as he pulls your body flush against his. That’s all it takes before you’re practically melting under his touch. You wish you could go back in time and tell yourself to give in sooner, to stop being a stubborn idiot that blindly followed a bunch of lonely old hags. 

You pull away from him briefly, your breath ragged against his lips as apologies begin to tumble out of you. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let them convince me of some stupid prophecy when you didn’t even know who we–”

He presses a finger to your lips.“Basta così, that’s enough of that piccolina.” 

You nod, and there it is, you’re giving him that same, desperate, doe-eyed look from before. He has to bite back a growl as he moves his hand to cup your jaw. He traces his thumb over your bottom lip, his eyes honing in on the way your lips instinctively part at the contact and you let out the tiniest breath as your eyes flutter shut at his touch.

His thumb is still pressed against your lips when you open your eyes again and before you can second guess yourself, you part your lips and gently lave your tongue up the length of it, keeping your eyes on his the whole time.

He hisses like a fucking animal, and the look in his eyes actually scares you for a second as he grabs you roughly, shoving you back against the bars of the cell. You yelp as the cold metal digs into your back, but it's quickly forgotten when he leans forwards and brushes his lips against yours.

“Puttanella,” He practically snarls, his brightly mismatched eyes boring into yours before he leans forward and grazes his fangs against your lips. He nips at your lower lip, pulling on it with his teeth and savoring the pathetic noise you make. “Where’d you learn to act like that, hm?”

You gasp as he grabs your chin, forcing you to make eye contact with him. He can feel the way your body is practically trembling underneath him. Even like this, when you’re desperate for him, even when you are completely at his mercy, you are still terrified.

He pulls back to look at you, his pupils blown as his eyes trail down your body. The way your corset hugs your form, the way your breasts are damn near spilling out of the top makes him hum. He releases your chin and trails his hand down your neck, tracing his fingers over your collarbone, down your sternum, over the slopes of your breasts, down between them and over your stomach.

“Bellissima.” He purrs.

His hands trail further down, past your hips and down to your thigh before he hitches your leg over his hip and presses himself closer to you. Your eyes widen as you realize you can feel him. His clothed cock is throbbing against you. Even through those ridiculously distressed pants he wore you can tell he’s more than well-endowed, and the thought alone makes you grind your clothed core down against it.

He growls at that, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls away from the kiss to trail more kisses down your jawline, and you just know he’s surely smearing black paint on your bare skin. He nips at your neck, marking you exactly how he wants. Your eyes flutter closed as you throw your head back, relishing in the feeling of his lips on you. 

Fucking finally.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” He grits out as his hands grip at your ass, desperately and impossibly trying to pull you closer, even though he is already pressed up so close to you that the bars of the cell are digging into your spine. 

“I watched you for so long… I knew I needed to kill you, yet there was something in me that was infatuated with you, needed to know you.”

“I kept thinking, how could a sweet, innocent little witch like you be so dangerous?” His chest rumbles as he chuckles, his eyes darkening as he spins you around so that your front is pressed up against the bars of the cell.

His fangs graze your pulse point, and it makes you shiver as you instinctively crane your neck for him to allow him easier access.

“When I finally tasted you, I knew I was done for.” The whine that escapes you at his words is pathetic. Every nerve ending in your body feels like it’s on fire as he nips at your earlobe. His breath is hot against your neck, and you can feel how tense his whole body is, like he’s fighting against every natural instinct to make sure he doesn’t accidentally break you in half.

“And then I noticed the way you reacted to me every time I fed off of you. Cazzo, the way you would whine and writhe under me was enough to drive me mad.” He’s rambling at this point, practically shaking as he recalls all the times he fed off of you and could feel your back arching against him, your pulse quickening and the most pathetic noises falling from your lips.

“Please…”

He growls and sinks his teeth into you. It’s just as painful as all the other times; only this time you’re too distracted by the way he’s grinding himself against you. He’s damn near dry-humping you as his hand trails down your side before hiking up the hem of your long skirt. His gloved fingers skim over your clothed core. You’re positively soaked already, and he groans at the realization as he drinks from you. The way he’s pressed against you just right ensures that you can feel him growing impossibly harder against your thigh. 

The realization that he’s getting off from simply drinking your blood is enough to make any sense of shame or embarrassment you may have been harboring dissipate from your mind. You finally beg him to do the one thing you had refused to let yourself daydream about for so long:

“Fuck me, please. I need you.”

He practically snarls as he rips himself off of your neck, “Is that right? Look at you–  begging the very monster you were sent to kill to fuck you.” He rolls his hips against yours and tangles his fingers in your hair before tugging on it, causing you to arch your back under him, as you let out the most pathetic little gasp.

You hate that he’s right, this feels so wrong yet so right. Sure, you had just accepted his offer to stay with him before practically throwing yourself at him. But before now, your entire purpose was to make a martyr out of him. Yet here you are, practically drooling at the feeling of him pressed up against you.

“Please… Papa.” His title feels odd on your tongue, but at this point you’d call him anything he wanted you to.

“Copia.” He corrects, his fingers moving your panties to the side as he runs them through your soaked folds, hissing as he feels how easily the leather of his gloves slides through them. The cold leather on your throbbing core sends a shiver through you.  

“Wh- What?” 

He spins you around, pulling you away from the bars of the cell before shoving you onto your hands and knees. You cry out as your knees hit the floor, but you don’t even get a chance to protest further before he gets down on the floor of the cell with you. His hands roughly shove your undergarments down to your knees and he skims his fingers over your cunt.

“My name, little one, use it.” He grits out as he slowly pushes one of his leather-clad fingers inside of you.

“F-fuck… Copia!”

You arch your back, your hands clawing at the stone flooring underneath you, arching your back as he presses it in. It’s thick, the leather of the glove making it stretch you out so deliciously that your head feels like it’s spinning. You’re a trembling and whimpering mess underneath him.

“Sei così bagnata.” He growls as his finger bottoms out, the heel of his palm resting against your ass. “You’re soaked for me, strega. Why is that, hm?”

He reaches down to grab you by the neck, pulling you up against him so that your back is pressed flush against his chest, causing his finger to press against that spot inside you that makes you cry out, your noise strained as he squeezes your throat.

“You’ve imagined this haven’t you? Probably spent night after night down here imagining what it would be like to have me inside of you, si?”

You whine, a pitiful little noise as he sinks a second finger into you.

“That’s it, open up for me little witch. I know you can take it.”

The noise that escapes you is more guttural as his second finger breaches you, your soft mewls turning into deeper, primal groans as he begins to thrust his fingers in and out of you. He grunts as he feels your walls spasming around his fingers, trying to draw them deeper inside you. He can feel how hot you are even through the thick leather, and suddenly his pants are much too tight. He releases his grip on your neck, making you fall back onto your elbows as his eyes focus on the way your cunt is spasming and throbbing around his fingers.

“I bet you never thought your sacred mission would end like this, si? Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you’d have me deep inside this little cunt, did you?”

You shake your head, throwing a glance over your shoulder at him and the sight alone is enough to make you tremble. His eyes are practically glowing in the dim light. His white eye is so fucking unsettling this close and for some reason, it thrills you. The paint around his lips is smeared, the black and white mixing with the streaks of your blood that drip down his chin in thick, crimson lines as he looks at you with such an intensity that makes you almost completely unravel for him.

He curls his fingers inside of you then, making you gasp and claw at the floor under you as he strokes that soft spot inside you that makes your legs shake. It's so much better than you could’ve imagined, and he seems to know exactly what to do to have you shaking and clenching around him. The fact that he’s doing everything he can to make you feel good, to have you shaking and begging for more makes you dizzy. He’s not greedy like most of your past lovers, he’s taking his time tearing you apart piece by piece, and you love every second.

“Copia, p-please–” You cry out, tears springing into your eyes as you feel that familiar feeling building inside of you far too quickly.

He chuckles then, the sound is dark, almost sadistic as he watches you.

“Please what? What do you want, piccolina?”

Your face flushes, the words are on the tip of your tongue, but you’re too distracted by how he’s curling his fingers so fucking perfectly inside  you. But a sharp slap to your ass pulls you from your thoughts as you gasp and arch your back against him.

“Tell me.”

“I- I want your cock, please.” You beg.

“Good girl.”

He withdraws his fingers from you and you whine at the loss of contact as he moves to unlace the front of his pants behind you, damn near ripping them open in a desperate attempt to free his leaking cock. 

You glance behind you, watching as he pulls it out and you whimper at the sight. He’s thick, bigger than anyone you’ve ever taken, the head red and swollen and already leaking with precum. He takes it in his hand, slowly rubbing the tip along your swollen cunt, making you bite your lip as you push your hips backwards, trying desperately to get him inside of you.

He grips your hip with one hand, while taking his cock in the other and guiding it to your weeping cunt. His hand steadies you as he slowly sinks himself inside you. Somewhere over the sound of his groans, you think you can hear your high pitched whines. But the feeling of him inside of you is too overwhelming for you to care. He feels so much bigger, the stretch of it makes tears spring into your eyes, but it’s the feeling is fucking delicious as his hips come to rest against your ass.

“Cazzo, your little cunt is so fucking tight for me, cara.” He’s damn near trembling behind you, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds you in place, giving you a second to adjust to him. 

“Copia.” His name is a broken sob on your lips as he slowly pulls out, before bottoming out again, and you can feel the head of his cock kiss your cervix, and it makes your walls squeeze around him. 

“Prendilo tutto.” His voice is hoarse as he fucks into you. He’s already an absolute mess behind you, your now dried blood still staining his lips as he throws his head back, groaning at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him. His pupils are blown, his hair falling in his face as he looks down at where your bodies are connected.

He doesn’t hold back, fucking you so deeply that it makes your toes curl inside your boots. His thrusts are poignant, precise, and the way his cock curves up allows him to hit that spot inside you with every thrust, making you fall forward so that your cheek is pressed up against the hard stone floor. The noises he rips from you are downright deplorable, your mewls echoing off the walls of the dungeon as his cock sinks in and out of you. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending singing at the feeling of him inside you.

A searing pain blossoms across your scalp as he takes a fistful of your hair and pulls you up so that your weight is being supported by your hands. Before you can question what he’s doing, his hand wraps over your mouth, muffling the yelp that leaves your lips.

“Quiet, piccolina. We can’t have someone hearing you.” He punctuates his sentence with a particularly hard thrust, making you groan under his palm. “You have no idea what I’m risking for you, for this.”

You want to focus on his words, but it's nearly impossible when his cock is hitting that spot so deep inside you that it makes your eyes roll back, but when he tugs on your hair again it snaps you back to reality.

“No one, except my ghouls know that you’re here. The Clergy wanted me to kill you, so I gave them the proof they wanted. No one even suspects that I kept you here, all to myself.”

You groan at his words, the thought of him lying just to keep you around sends a shiver down your spine, and you roll your hips just so that it makes him growl, the low rumble reverberating through his chest.

Copia’s grip on your hips is bruising as he pulls you back onto him, guiding your hips towards him as he watches you. You're desperate, your movements hurried as you fuck yourself back onto him, trying to match the rhythm of his thrusts as you feel the tension in your lower belly slowly starting to build.

“Sathanas, I wish you would have just bent over for me that first night in the forest.” He growls, half to himself. “Maybe then, you may have had a chance at killing me, no?” He lets out a breathy chuckle at that, and you can only whimper in response.

“This little cunt would have bewitched me, I would have been incapacitated, completely at your mercy.”

You cry out under his hand as he shoves you back down so that your face is pressed up against the floor.

“And you would have let me, wouldn’t you?”

You nod desperately under him, or at least try to as much as you can under his grasp.

“F-Fuck, yes. Would’ve let you do any– fuck– anything to me.” 

He hums in approval at your words, before grabbing your hips with both hands, the leather of his gloves creaking as he digs his fingers into the delicate skin there. His pace quickens, his thrusts bordering on animalistic as he fucks into you. He’s slamming into that spot inside of you that makes your whole body shudder as you cry out - but it's cut off when he yanks you back against him again, this time pinning your upper body to his chest. He wraps his hand around your throat, making your groans sound broken and raspy.

“I. Said. Be. Quiet.” He growls against your ear, punctuating each of his words with a thrust. It’s not an order, its a fucking warning, and it makes your entire body tremble.

“I’ll never forget the way you looked at me that night, pathetic, terrified, yet so… awestruck.” His lips part as he moans hoarsely, squeezing his eyes shut at the feeling of your cunt contracting around him as he reaches down. His fingers easily find your clit, giving it a hard pinch, before he starts rubbing it exactly how you need it, eager to get you closer to your end. 

“Looked so fucking innocent, I wanted to ruin you.”

He’s fucks up into you with wild abandon as his noises turn from growls to groans as he recalls the way your eyes has widened and your heart rate quickened under his gaze. 

“Now look at you, practically falling apart around my cock.” 

His thrusts begin to falter and you can tell he’s nearing his end, his gloved fingers still working your clit, the cold leather making you shiver as you feel your orgasm tumbling towards you.

“Sathanas, I’m so close streghetta…” 

You let out a whine in response as you roll your hips, biting your lip as he growls hoarsely in your ear. You work yourself back onto his cock, your walls clenching around him as you desperately chase your own end while trying to help him reach his.

“Please.” You whine softly, your voice weak.

The hand around your throat tightens as the other one grips your hip so tight you’re sure it’ll bruise as his movements become staggered. He gives one last harsh thrust, stuffing his throbbing cock inside of you until it's pressed against your cervix and you feel the delicious, wet heat of him spilling inside of you. He seems to lose all control then, and suddenly you feel his fangs plunge into your neck as he drinks from you at the same time.

The feeling of his hot cum filling you paired with the pain of his bite is enough to make you reach your end with a wail of his name. The oxytocin from your orgasm coursing through your veins makes your blood taste sweeter, making him let out the most obscene, guttural growl as he shudders behind you as he stuffs you so completely full. You’re rolling your hips, tears pricking at your eyes as you shudder through your orgasm, your cunt spasming and quivering around him as your combined juices begin to leak out of you. 

Your chest heaves and your muscles shake from the overexertion as you start to come down from your high. He’s still holding you up, his breath ragged against your ear as he removes his lips from your neck, swiping his tongue over the bite and sealing it off with his saliva before pressing a kiss there.

“La mia bella streghetta.” He whispers against your skin. “Perfetta.”

He trails his hands over your sides as he slowly loosens his grip on you, his touch impossibly gentle and soothing as the leather of his gloves brushes over your trembling form. It's a stark contrast to the way he had just been handling you, but you welcome it as he slowly lowers you back down to the ground. You whine as you feel his cock slip out of you; your ass is still up, and he groans at the sight of his spend leaking out of you. Without a word he reaches out to gather it up before pushing it back inside of you. You can’t help but gasp and whimper pathetically, your overstimulated nerves lighting up at the contact as you tremble underneath him.

You’re practically limp on the ground, your limbs heavy as he pushes your underwear back up over your hips and pulls the hem of your skirt back down before tucking himself back into his pants. You roll over onto your back, looking up at him through dazed eyes, your cheeks flushed as you struggle to catch your breath. He swipes his hand over his mouth, wiping away the fresh remnants of your blood from his chin. So much of the black paint has rubbed off that you get your first glimpse of his pink lips underneath. His gaze remains locked with yours as he runs a hand through his hair, and you shudder at the possessive look in those gorgeous eyes of his.

Yeah.

You are definitely fucked.

There it is, the one I know y'all have been waiting for, I had so much fun writing this chapter and honestly I'm so proud of this one. Stay tuned to see where these two idiots go from here.

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

Comments, kudos, and reblogs are always appreciated! ‪‪❤︎

Translations:

piccolina – little one

strega/streghetta– witch/little witch

basta così – that’s enough

puttanella – little whore

bellissima – beautiful

sei così bagnata – you’re so wet

cazzo – fuck

cara – darling

prendilo tutto – take it all

la mia bella streghetta – my pretty little witch

perfetta – perfect

[thewitcheswitch89]

Ghostober 2024

by @kroas-adtam

you can also read here AO3

I want you to...

Face Sitting / Fucking

Cardinal Copia x female reader

Smut 18+

You were lying on Copia's bed. Completely naked, you let your finger run lazy circles over his chest. "What do you want to do, love? Any ideas .... something we have never done before?" you asked, kissing his naked chest.

Copia hummed softly as he reached up to caress your face, tracing your soft features and tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. He shifted, turning slightly on his side to face you better, and pulled you into his arms with a chuckle.

"Well... there are a *few* ideas I've had for a while..." He paused for a moment, slowly running his fingertips down your bare back before continuing. "Ideas that I think you'll like very much, *amore mio*... But I want you to sit on my face."

"You want what?" you smiled irritated.

Copia chuckled softly, his hand still running up and down your back, his touch making your skin tingle. He moved closer to you, the heat of his body pressing against you as he murmured, his voice low and sultry.

"I want to taste you... with my mouth."

He pulled you even closer, his lips brushing against your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone.

"Are you sure? I mean, I don't want you to choke on me," you laughed.

Copia grinned against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. "I think I can handle it, Tesoro..." He gently pushed you onto your back, his hands roaming over your naked body, the heat between the two of you almost dizzying.

"Besides," he continued, his voice low and raspy, "I've been thinking about this for a long time. I can't get the thought out of my head... I want to taste you on my tongue and feel you all around me."

He leaned closer, kissing his way down your neck, his hands still exploring your body, his touch setting your skin on fire.

"I want to make you feel good... I want to drive you wild..." He whispered, his lips moving along your collarbone, his voice dripping with desire.

You hesitated for a moment, considering his request. Finally, taking a deep breath, you sat up and looked at him.

Copia propped himself up on one elbow and looked up at you with a mixture of lust and affection. He could see the hesitation on your face, the slight flicker of uncertainty in your eyes.

He reached out and gently caressed your cheek with his knuckles. "We don't have to do anything you don't like, *tesoro mio*," he said, his voice soft and reassuring. "We can just stay here and talk if you..."

You moved over his chest, looking down at him.

Copia was interrupted by you, the grin on his lips widening. "Oh? Looks like someone changed their mind..." he said, the hint of a playful chuckle in his voice.

 He moved closer to you, his hand caressing your hip as he looked into your eyes. "Are you sure you want to go through with this, *amore mio*?" He asked, his fingers tracing a light path down your thigh.

"Yes!" you nodded. "Ok ..!" you looked down at him, blushing slightly. You had never done that before.

Copia chuckled softly, noticing your embarrassment. He thought you were extremely cute when you blushed like that. He moved closer to you, his hand still tracing feathery circles on your thigh.

"Hey, there's nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart," he said, his voice deep and reassuring. "I'm going to talk you through this, OK? Just relax and let me take care of you."

"OK, tell me what to do," you said. "I don't want to hurt you," you looked down at him.

Copia smiled at you reassuringly. "You don't have to worry about hurting me, *amore mio*," he said, squeezing your thigh lightly with his hand. "Just trust me and follow me."

He shifted slightly onto his back, leaning against the pillow. "Now just come up here and straddle my face," he said, gesturing for you to move closer to him.

You took a deep breath and crawled up to his face, positioned yourself over his head and looked down at him.

Copia looked up at you, his eyes filled with lust and desire and a hint of amusement. He placed his hands on your thighs and gently pulled you closer.

"There you go, just like that," he said, his voice low and sultry. "Are you all right?" he asked, wanting to make sure you were comfortable.

Your face flushed. This was more intimate than anything you had ever done with him. You were completely exposed and so close to his face.

Copia could feel your body tense slightly at your position on top of him. He gently stroked your thighs, his hands moving slowly up and down, soothing your nerves.

"Just relax, *tesoro*," he murmured, looking up at you. "I've got you. Let go and let me take care of you. I promise to be gentle."

You looked down at him, you trusted him, and you wanted to feel that now. Slowly you began to lower yourself onto his face.

Copia's hands on your thighs continued to stroke and caress your skin, his touch a reassuring presence. He shifted his position slightly, tilting his head a little more as you slowly lowered yourself towards him.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice thick with desire. "Just a little more..."

You lowered yourself further. "Like this..." you murmured.

Copia couldn't help but chuckle at your mumbling. He could hear how nervous you were, but he could also see the excitement in your eyes, mixed with the uncertainty.

"Almost there," he said, his hands still gently rubbing your thighs. "You're doing perfect, *tesoro mio..."*

With just a little more pressure from his hands on your thighs, you lowered yourself completely onto his face. Copia gently grabbed your hips to steady you.

You could feel his breath, hot and heavy against your sensitive skin. "Just relax, amore mio, and let me do the work," he murmured,

When his tongue landed on your clit, you immediately grabbed the headboard and looked down at him.

Copia could feel you gripping the headboard, your reaction eliciting a satisfied grunt.

He couldn't resist letting out a soft chuckle. "That good, huh?" he teased, his tongue continuing its lazy movement against you. "That sound... keep making it."

You moaned and began to slowly rock your hips, the feel of his tongue against your clit making you shiver.

Copia hummed in agreement, his grip on your hips tightening a little as you rocked against him. "That's right, use my face," he said.

"Just take what you need, Tesoro..." he murmured, muffled by your core.

His tongue quickened its pace and he could feel your body begin to tremble. It made him feel powerful, knowing he could make you collapse under his touch.

Copia loved the way you responded. The shameless moaning, the way you tasted his tongue. How close you were. He moaned against your core. and grabbed your hips to steady you. his tongue dipped into your entrance, in and out. Almost making you scream.

Copia could feel you unraveling, the way your body moved and shivered. The sound of your moaning was music to his ears, fuelling his own desire. He knew he had you in the palm of his hand,

Copia could feel you unravelling, the way your body moved and trembled. The sound of your moaning was music to his ears, fueling his own desire. He knew he had you in the palm of his hand and he wanted more.

"You're close, aren't you, amore mio? ?" he asked, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble. He gripped your hips tightly.

You felt all your insecurities wash away, all you could feel was him. All you wanted was him.

"Copia....fuck....ahh...don't stop!" you cried out, your whole body shaking.

Copia loved the way you screamed his name, the way you begged him not to stop. It was like music to his ears, inspiring him to go harder, to give you more. He knew he was taking you to the edge.

The sensation was intense and you could feel the orgasm building inside you.

Your moans became shaky. Your hands tightened on his hair. Your hips bucked against him.

Copia held your hips with one hand, his grip firm as he steadied you, while with the other he found your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours.

"Let go, *tesoro*," he panted against you, his voice hoarse with his own desire. "Give into it, I've got you."

You squeezed his hand. Suddenly you felt the orgasm explode inside you, wave after wave of pleasure washing over you. You screamed in ecstasy, your whole body shaking as you experienced one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

Copia could feel you cumming on his tongue, the waves of pleasure washing over you.

He slowed his pace gently, letting you ride out the orgasm before finally pulling away from you. He breathed heavily, his eyes fixed on your exhausted form above him. "Are you all right, darling?" he asked, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

You collapsed beside him, breathing heavily.

Copia took you in his arms and held you close. He stroked your hair and planted a soft kiss on your temple, murmuring words of praise and affection in your ear. "You've done so well, *amore mio*," he said, his voice low and soothing. "So good for me..."

[ad-astra-per-aspera1976]

Had a wild dream of Papa IV as a Sith Lord. Nihil is the Emperor and the 4 sons are Sith Lords and Nihil is pissed that not one of them has sired any heirs yet.

He sends them off to find some baby mommas and Copia is sent to seduce a Jedi girl he has been secretly obsessed with. I woke up just as it was getting juicy and now I’m at work and wishing I could go into my headspace and continue it….

Sighhhhhh…. Why