#papa emeritus iv/reader

[liquiddrywall]

I doubt anyone will see this since I haven’t been active here in a hot minute but I made a copia fic :3

Old Habits Die Hard on Ao3

Summary: You came to this church in hopes of not only starting anew, but also seeking friendly companionship. Unfortunately for you, living a past life as a shut-in catholic nun set you back in life more than you expected, enough to make it difficult to relate to the rest of the siblings. As a result of this, Sister Imperator has asked you to open for mass in hopes of getting you out there, but she forgot to mention one thing: Today's subject for mass had everything to do with the one sin you've yet to get to.

[ghouliaxghuleh]

As Above, So Below

// Chapter One \\

Pairing(s): Papa Emeritus III/Reader, Mary Goore/Reader (Eventual) Tags: Discussion of Death, Angst, Mostly set up for later chapters tbh. SFW (not for long, i promise) Word Count: 3.7K Summary: Right before his death, Terzo asks you to protect something for him. Fast forward a few years and you're still in possession of a strange magical box that cannot be opened on your own. However, on one very strange day, it all changes when you cross a line with Papa Emeritus the Fourth, and he sends you down to the catacombs...

 You think about your last conversation with Papa Emeritus the Third often. It plagues your mind the way a bad after taste lingers in your mouth long after consumption, leaving you with a bitterness that's both hungry and suffocating. It was one that only made sense now in grief, the hidden meaning of his carefully chosen words clearer to your wiser ears. Terzo was an open book yet shrouded in mystery, never truly revealing his true wants or motivations. The way he danced around the topic in conversations had led highly ranking members of the clergy to underestimate him, but you knew the truth.

Terzo was clever, there was no man nor devil whom he couldn't convince to do his bidding. Yet he stood before you that night a desperate, broken man, closer to human than you'd ever seen him, and it felt like sobering up after a night of heavy drinking. Everything that came before felt like a fairytale shrouded in a translucent veil when standing in the pale light of a backstage dressing room.

He spoke of his impending death so casually and nonchalantly, if you hadn't been paying attention, you might have thought he was speaking on the tour.

"I feel a storm coming, Sorella," His smokey voice called out to you from across the room, mismatched gaze staring at you from the dirty mirror on the wall.

The adrenaline of the pre-ritual was gone, the light overhead flickering as the atmosphere in the room began to shift with Terzo's mood. You could see the trouble brewing behind his blue-green eye, the concern he tried so desperately to hide. To someone who didn't know the middle Emeritus brother, they might have mistaken his expression was one of annoyance, but many nights spent in close proximity led you to the truth in his character, the mysterious front man.

"Papa, does something worry you?"

You knew the answer already, but you could see the way the muscles in Terzo's shoulders tensed when you stepped closer. Compared to his brothers, he was kind and comforting, but he was still the devil's son. He was flighty, prone to acting on impulse to avoid situations he got himself into. You wondered if he would flee now, uncomfortable in the solitude of the dressing room.

"For just a moment," He said, voice soft and his eyes flickered up to meet yours, "let me speak."

You waited behind him patiently, feeling the nerves wash over you as he turned away from the mirror, slowly stalking towards you, muscles shifting beneath the material of his stage costume. His gloved hands grasped yours, the white silk soft against your palms as he rubbed comforting circles against the back of your hand.

"When we get back to the Ministry, I need you to do a favor for Papa, ey? It is very important," Terzo's eyes were pinned on yours, hands gripping yours a bit firmer as his lips titled down in a slight frown.

"There is something I need you to keep safe for me," His hands released yours, one slipping into your hair to cradle the back of your head. "A wooden box in the chapel, beneath the floorboards by the altar. Imperator cannot have it, nor the Cardinal, or Nihil. I need you to keep this secret for me, Sorella."

"Of course, Papa."

Your response was breathless as he pressed soft kisses against your exposed throat, lips trembling but not enough to draw attention. You could feel his staggered breath against your throat and foolishly mistook it for lust as Terzo pulled your body against his, his nose buried in your hair.

"There is someone else with the key, but promise me until the time comes, you'll keep it safe, okay?"

He kissed you that night as if he was going to be the last time he ever would - mostly, because it was. You didn't realize it at the time, how rapidly your lover was being ripped from your arms. When he took the stage that night as Papa Emeritus the Third, you hadn't expected him to leave it Terzo, yanked from his pillar by the ministry and whisked away without so much as a goodbye. In the rush of confusion and chaos, you hadn't realized Nihil had taken the stage, too busy chasing the clergymen through the maze of twisting concert hallways.

It was too late, however. Terzo knew that - but you didn't. The moment he stepped onto the stage it was over, perhaps even before that. From that point on, the sun never shined as brightly, nor felt as warm against your skin. The flowers did not bloom so brightly or as long, and the leaves from the tree shriveled fast as winter came early. Papa Emeritus the Third was beheaded in the night, and his elder brothers followed him to the grave immediately afterwards.

A new era had come upon the ministry and with it, and usurper.

Pale light washed through the elegant stained-glass windows of the ministry, casting a mirage of muted colors across the cold stone floors and up the engraved walls. The morning was quiet as the cold December chill seeped through the walls, the clock on the wall ahead of you displaying the time as 7:58 AM. It was only a short walk to the chapel from your small room, so you weren’t worried about being late as you stepped out into the hallway. You quickly made sure your habit was in place, glancing over your shoulder as you grew weary of Sister’s Imperator’s presence. Or, more precisely – the lack of it.

You were used to her lurking in the hallways on the mornings of sermons, ready to punish any sibling that happened to stumble out of bed late. She seemed particularly keen on catching you, however. It seemed impossible to evade her watchful eye. Imperator had always been a bit of a pain in the ass, but since Copia had taken over as Papa Emeritus, she seemed to gain delight in being allowed to punish as she pleased. All of your siblings knew that it didn’t matter what she didn’t – Papa would forgive her. He always did.

On a day such as this one, however, her disappearance was unnerving. It was a Hunter’s Moon tonight; therefore, the morning’s sermon would be a very important one. There was no doubt in your mind that Papa would choose a prime mover, a title you’d once respected and coveted. The very idea of being chosen as his prime mover, however, left you slowing in your pace as you approached the chapel.

It was not that you had issues with Copia – in fact, since ascending the papacy, you’ve found him more tolerable. His newfound confidence and time on tour had refined him into a man more benefiting to lead the ministry. The siblings had come to love him, and the word of Ghost was reaching a broader audience than it ever had. Truly, he was a good Papa, but the idea of pledging yourself to him eternally left you with a sense of persistent unease.

It was like an itch you couldn’t scratch, a nagging headache that wouldn’t go away. You were careful to avoid spending too much time in the light of Copia, weary of drawing his attention. He knew that you had pledged yourself to his predecessor, you could tell by the way he looked at you with an expression of pity. No, he would not take you as his prime mover. Besides, it was in poor taste to take the prime mover of a predecessor, and Copia was a man much concerned with his reputation.

You forced yourself onward, pushing the thought of prime movers and the past away from your mind as you entered the chapel. Many of your siblings were already sitting, chatting quietly to themselves. There was a small spot in the second to last row open, and you quickly scooted in, scanning the crowd for any sign of Imperator, who might have caught you sneaking in. Yet, among the crowd of habits and vestments, you don’t find her familiar form. More alarming, even Nihil seems to scan the crowd with a distant expression of worry as he sits next to the altar, oxygen tank rattling noisily.

You looked at the sibling beside you, a newly confirmed sister who seemed to beam in the dim candlelight, gripping the edges of the dark bench excitedly as she extended her neck to gaze above the sea of heads.

“Excuse me, Sister,” You asked, voice quiet and almost lost in the conversations around you.

The girl looked, bright eyes filled with curiosity as she smiled, “Yeah?”

“Have you seen Imperator this morning? It was strange not to see her in the hallways on the way here.”

The sister looked into the distance, mouth parting as she thought quietly. You couldn’t recall ever meeting the sibling before, but you were sure you’d seen her a handful of times in passing. She’d come back with Papa after the Imperatour, and though it had sent Imperator into a fit for several hours, she’d been allowed to stay and as far as you knew, had spent the time laying low. Papa seemed relatively indifferent towards her as he was you, but she seemed excited to see him.

“I don’t think I have,” She said after a moment, returning her eyes to yours, “maybe she’s out right now.”

It seemed too good to be true to imagine that Imperator would leave you alone after so long of breathing down your neck, but you had little time to ask the sister more as Papa stepped up to the stone altar, the energy in the chapel steadily rising.

“Sathanas, isn’t he beautiful, Sister,” She whispered from beside you.

You looked upon the face of Papa Emeritus the Fourth and tried to find something beautiful amongst the painted features. Sure, it was there, yet every man seemed so dull in comparison to Terzo, who wore his age with confidence and spoke with elegance and determination in every word. Perhaps to some Copia’s endearing nature was charming or beautiful, but to you it was nothing more than awkward.

Even as Papa, you couldn’t help but see the Cardinal who used to ride around the hallways on a tricycle. Whatever had happened to him in the wake of the tour, however, changed him in a way that made him almost unrecognizable. He seemed to shape shift with his ascension, shedding the persona of the cardinal and stepping into a new one.

“Long Live Papa Emeritus.”

The chant rang heavily in the smokey chapel as incense filled the room. The morning light was filling the room with a dreamlike wash of color as Copia stepped behind the altar, pausing briefly to gaze upon the stone statue of the Unholy One. There was a pleasant buzzing that seemed to run along the floor, the result of the upcoming hunter’s moon. Everything was stronger, magic more potent and every ritual ten times deadlier. It was both a night of celebration and one to fear, for an unguarded sibling could fall prey to an attack by the ghouls.

In a place where sin was celebrated and often encouraged, there had to be some sort of structure that kept people from doing whatever they wanted. At the start of Secondo’s reign, he’d made it clear that sin was encouraged so long as it wasn’t hurting anyone (at least without their consent). On a night such as a hunter’s moon, however, all bets were off as the ghoul’s became something more animalistic and dangerous.

It was not a night to be running around alone in the abbey. There were precautions in place, curfews carefully placed yet loosely followed. There would be no help, either. Tonight, Papa would take part in his own rituals with his prime mover, oblivious to the chaos that might erupt around him. Without Imperator either, you couldn’t help but gulp nervously as Copia began his sermon.

The haze of grief had made the last few months feel like sleepwalking. You stood in the midst of the fall without remembering the summer, or the spring. How long had it been since you were conscious of your day, took delight in the little things that once fascinated you, since you walked in Primo’s gardens and felt the warm sunshine against your cool skin? Life before felt so far away now; it seemed as though you only blinked and suddenly Copia had become Papa, and Terzo was entered into the catacombs beneath the ministry.

There was once a time you were permitted to lounge beside his tomb, but Imperator grew impatient and Copia, pliant as ever, had sternly yet softly asked you not to spend any more time in the catacombs. After a few weeks, you’d noticed the entrance to the third Emeritus’ brother’s tomb had been sealed with several padlocks. The message had been sent loud and clear, but it didn’t stop your longing, nor the festering rot that had begun to take hold in your gut.

In your sunless world you were wilting like a flower, crumbling at the seams as fresh roots tried pathetically to take hold of the new soil. There were no goodbyes, no grandiose ceremonies or period of mourning. It was true, you didn’t really take issue with Copia, but you found yourself locked in a persistent bitterness towards him that seemed to swell with each passing day. He might not have swung the sword that beheaded Terzo or killed the other brothers, but you held suspicions that he knew, or was at least slightly complicit.

It was a common rumor amongst the siblings around the ministry. Gossip was a commodity during the cold weather, the rapidly chilling air forcing you all inside. Cabin fever was inevitable, and every year the same rumors seemed to roll back around just as the seasons did. They ranged from harmless – such as one you’d heard last year about Primo tending to a secret flower garden, or that Secondo had a secret interest in romance novels (but if you ever asked, he would have denied it, or said that he was too busy to read.

Then, there were the darker ones, passed in hushed voices at cramped tables during lunch. They always left you looking over your shoulder as you left, paranoid of silly gossip. You’d heard at least a dozen times that the ghouls ate people – siblings that crossed them, or naïve newcomers who did not know, or that siblings who misbehaved enough were used as sacrifices. There was one, however, that ignited a fire in your body so intense it was though every ounce of your blood had reached a boiling point.

You first heard it last winter. A fierce snowstorm had kept you in for almost three weeks at that point, and even Imperator seemed to grow antsy with claustrophobia. The large ministry had seemed to shrink during your isolation, and there was hardly a moment of silence to be found amongst the many hallways. The sun had set hours ago, the night young as you gathered around a small fire in a common area with three other Sisters. You’d spent the last hour trading stories of various excursions with other siblings, the ghouls, and of course, Papa.

You tried not to grimace when they spoke in detail of Copia’s prowess, thankful for the inclusion in the late-night chat and desperate for the company. It wasn’t that you particularly enjoyed being around others, but you did miss the companionship. It was relaxing, a moment of respite amid a long winter. It wasn’t longer after that the conversation fell short, a brief moment of silence passing between the three of you before one of the girls, Catherine, spoke.

Her voice was soft as she stared at the crackling fire, light hair almost amber in the orange glow as her dark eyes watched the open flame dance.

“I heard this in the hallways, when I was helping Imperator clean her office late one evening,” She began, her voice wavering as she glanced over at you, “it was some of Terzo’s ghouls. I haven’t seen much of them these days, so I was surprised.”

You’d perked up at the mention of Terzo, your abrupt movement noticed by the other sisters as they casted a swift glance in your direction. It was true, since Terzo’s death that many of his ghouls had returned to hell, choosing to leave rather than follow Copia. Some had stayed, taking new names with pride despite joyously tormenting the cardinal just months prior.

“One of them said it was Copia who ordered the deaths of the previous Papas.” “Imperator would never allow that,” One of the other sister’s spoke, her voice riddled with disbelief. “No, not if it didn’t benefit her.”

Tense silence fell on the room as you all came to a mutual conclusion. At first the notion that the quiet cardinal could somehow be a murderer seemed impossible, but the Imperator – you’d never been able to quite figure her out. You could admit that she was motivated her own wants, but did her loyalty to Nihil keep her murdering his son, if it somehow helped her?

Your eyes found Copia’s, his intense gazed settle intently on you as he finished his sermon. You watched them narrow beneath his face paint, confusion flashing briefly on his features before returning to neutrality, returning to his spot behind the altar.

“It is an important night, my children. He has gifted us a beautiful moon, go forth into the evening and celebrate in sin. We shall bring about a new era to this ministry, and to this world, so it his will.”

Around you, siblings begin to stand as the chatter returns, the mass concluded. You quickly tried to emerge yourself into the crowd, desperate to escape Copia’s watchful eyes as they followed you. It was though he had sensed your thoughts from across the chapel, your stomach twisting as siblings crowded around the exit. You couldn’t escape him fast enough, the echo of his footsteps followed by the excited murmurs sending your heart into a frenzy.

“Sister Trinity,” Copia’s smooth voice glided across the crowded like the wind did, sweeping over the chaos and capturing the attention of the majority of the crowd.

It was the moment people had been waiting for – his chosen prime mover. There’s a sigh of disappointment amongst some of the other siblings as the chosen sister stepped forward, her face bright and smile wide as she approached Papa. His attention shifted to her, eyes finally leaving yours. You took advantage of the distracted bodies around you, slipping between them and out into the nearly empty hallways outside the chapel. The moment you crossed the threshold it was hold as though a weight lifted from your chest, and you heaved in a deep breath, sucking the air in through your nose and holding it for a moment, willing your racing heart to slow.

You were thankful, at least, since Copia’s selection of a prime mover meant he had less time to worry about you. You weren’t used to being watched so intently by him, having grown used to the subtle coldness you attributed to your relationship with the youngest brother. Feeling his eyes on you throughout the sermon only heightened the unease you felt when you first stepped out of your room.

Against your better judgement, you let yourself slip back into thought, heading back towards your room to prepare for your duties. The sun had risen higher in the sky, the colors of the stained glass brighter against the ministry floor as you pondered the worst. You were prone to overthinking, which Terzo had tried desperately to free you of. Even his kindest words and softest touches could not drive out the worry that had been steadily nagging at you.

It'd been years since he left you now, and you haven’t gotten any closer to figuring out what he meant, or why he wanted you to protect that old box so badly. You’d found it one evening after Copia had left for tour, the Imperator away to see the cardinal off at the start of the tour. You’d taken advantage of the solitude and slipped into the chapel late one night, quickly locating the loose floorboard.

It was locked and, just as his tomb, presumably enchanted with magic to keep the wrong person from trying to pry it open. It was clear to you upon first looking at it that it wasn’t something you were going to be open, so you quickly replaced the floorboard and cradled the box in your arms in a blanket as you returned to your room. For a while, the secrets of it had enchanted you, allowing the hope of opening it one day to motivate you in the days following his death.

As the months passed on, you’d steadily shoved it into the back of your mind, nestling it safely beneath the floorboards under your bed. Every sibling had their own hiding place, most known to the Imperator but she’d foolishly believed she found your ages ago. Not even your closest friends knew about the box, quietly under your floor. Terzo trusted you to keep it safe, specifically from Copia, Imperator, and Nihil. What it contained that he wanted to hide from them so badly was beyond you. Sometimes you wondered why he had not trusted such a task to one of his ghouls, who had followed him since the day he became Papa. You never had time to ask him, of course, before he died.

You entered your room and immediately crawled under the bed to retrieve the item, a thin layer of dust and dirt covering the surface that you quickly brushed away. There was a barely noticeable vibration coming from it, as if coming to life in the warmth of your palms. It was the only thing you truly had left of him, the only thing that Copia did not know about.

You’ve kept it safe all this time, but the wait was starting to weigh in you, hope rapidly dwindling as you came upon another arduous winter. What other option was there, however?

[ghoulsstolemyheart]

Let Me Love You

Copia/fem reader, light angst, body worship, praise kink, blowjobs, anal fingering, pegging, light fem-dom, sub Copia

Papa doesn’t always feel great about himself, which is where you come in. Tonight, when you pull your beloved to bed, you will remind him exactly how much you love him.

3.5k words

“Cara mia, do you think I need some more work done?” 

Copia had been in the en suite for a while, the harsh fluorescent light highlighted the creases and wrinkles on his face as he stared himself down in the mirror. You frowned and pushed the covers back, climbing out of bed to stand in the bathroom doorway. He always got like this after a tour. For years he’d been the butt of the clergy’s jokes and he thought that they would stop after he became Papa. They didn’t. Then he got the surgeries and his concerns became more about whether or not the crowds found him more appealing.

The harsh chemical smell of his hair dye stung your nose even after he’d finished washing it out, the bottle sitting on the counter still radiating the ammonia smell. You watched him raise his eyebrows and study the lines on his forehead before pulling his hairline back in an attempt to smooth them out. He stretched the skin at his temples and watched his crows feet shift. It pained you to know he thought he had to get more procedures done for him to have any worth.

“A little botox couldn’t hurt, right?” His voice was quiet and there was a sadness to it that made your heart shatter.

“Copia, stop that. You don’t need anything done.”

He turned his head to meet your gaze, hands slowly moving away from his face to hang in the air in front of him. You took them in your own and turned him around to you properly.

“I just want to look my best, take care of myself, you know?” He trailed off as he looked back at his reflection but you reached up to hold his face so he was looking at you again.

“Listen to me, you don’t need to go under the knife every time you get in your own head about how you look. Remember how long it took you to get used to your face last time?”

Memories of him standing wide eyed in front of the bathroom mirror as he stared at his bruised and tender face, bandages removed a little too early by curious fingers. How he had winced the first time he touched his new nose, both from how tender it was and from the fact it didn’t feel like his anymore. He’d spent forty-odd years being told how much he looked like his mother, that he’d inherited her nose, now they looked nothing alike and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. You had found him staring at himself like that a few times, eyes following himself as he turned his head every which way so he could familiarise himself with it. One night, after a long day of especially cruel teasing from some of the siblings, you walked in on him staring himself down, tears streaming down his face as he braced himself against the sink. He sobbed into your shoulder, mourning his old identity and desperately wishing he hadn’t gone through with the surgery. You wouldn’t let him end up like that again.

“Forget what you think the clergy and the audiences want from you. Forget what you deem not good enough. What matters is that I love you, wrinkles and all.”

He sighed and relaxed into your touch, reaching up to gently hold your wrists.

“I know tesoro, I know.” There was that sadness again.

You leaned forward and began peppering his face with kisses, pressing your lips to every wrinkle and line you could find. Forehead, cheeks, the corners of his eyes, the lines around his lips from all the cigarettes over the years. You didn’t stop until he was a grinning giggling mess, the sound of his laughter devoid of any cynicism and instead just pure joy.

“Okay!” He laughed, “okay, amore, you’ve proved your point.”

“I don’t know, love, I think there’s a few that I’ve missed.” You mumbled between kisses, slowly moving your way from his laugh lines down to his jaw. One of your hands tangled in his hair and you tugged on it lightly, encouraging him to tip his head back and give you better access to his throat. You heard him breathe a shaky sigh and it made you a little weak in the knees. The knowledge that he was melting under your touch was almost too much for you. 

“Amore, you don’t have to worry about me.” Copia’s throat vibrated under your lips as he spoke and you managed to pull yourself away to look him in the eye.

“I love you, it’s my job to worry.”

You pressed a quick kiss to his lips followed by another and another until Copia’s tongue came out to lick across your bottom lip before sliding into your mouth. His hands had found their way to your waist, gently rubbing up and down your sides and making your pyjama shirt lift up, exposing your stomach to the chilly night air. The warmth of the fireplace didn’t quite reach the bathroom and you felt goosebumps come out across your skin.

Things were getting heated and you wanted to remind Copia that you were going to be the one pleasuring him tonight. You started to lean back and he followed your lips as you stepped backwards to the bed, hands in his hair as you guided him. He couldn’t help the little whine that escaped him when you pulled away for real, looking at you with pleading eyes as you swapped places with him, pushing him onto the mattress with a palm flat against his chest. You loved letting Copia take out his frustrations on you after a long day, but sometimes he needed to be on the receiving end.

He moved further up the bed, never taking his eyes off of you as you crawled towards him until you were straddling his hips and caging him into the mattress with your body. You almost melted when one of his hands cupped your cheek, the reverent way he looked up at you making your head spin.

“Cara mia-“

You cut him off with a finger against his lips.

“Let me show you how beautiful you are.” Your voice was barely above a whisper but you could tell by the look in his eyes and the way he nodded that Copia heard you loud and clear.

You started with more kisses, moving across from his lips to his jaw and down his neck where your mouth made him sigh as you sucked a mark into the skin. His hands rested comfortably on your hips and you couldn’t help noticing the way he held you against him, his cock starting to harden already from the way you touched him. Your own hands had been firm on his shoulders as you pinned him against the mattress, finally traveling down to slip under the hem of his t-shirt before you leaned back and started tugging it up over his torso revealing the trail of grey hair that drove you crazy. You rocked your hips a little as you moved back to let him sit up, helping you get the shirt over his head and flinging it across the room. Copia moaned into your mouth as you kissed him again, your arms wrapping around to hold him against you.

“These too,” you mumbled against his lips as you played with the drawstrings on his sweatpants, “these need to go.”

You climbed off of him for a moment so he could lift his hips and pull them off, freeing his semi and giving you a good look at the rest of his happy trail as it drew your eye down to his length. Copia blushed a little as you knelt at his feet and took in the sight before you, he loved the attention but he was too self conscious to believe that he deserved it sometimes.

“There, that’s better.” 

Copia looked up at you with more than a hint of embarrassment as you slid your hands up and down his shins.

“Can I see you too, amore?” He asked, his voice small and unsure as if it were your first time together all over again and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

You pulled your shirt up slowly and breathed a little laugh when you heard him stifle a moan when he finally saw your tits. Sometimes you couldn’t believe how worked up he got at just the sight of you, but then you would get the same way watching him perform, teasing that damn mic stand, and you understood.

By the time you were fully undressed, going nice and slow to give him the best view of everything you had to offer despite him knowing your body like the back of his hand, Copia’s cock was hard and glistening with precum. You began to slide your hands up his legs again, this time stoping at his knees as you gripped them and gently pushed them up as you urged his legs apart. He let out the most beautiful whimpers as you kissed your way up his inner thigh, mumbling against his skin about how much you loved those thighs, whining when you pulled away just before you reached the base of his cock.

“And you see this?” you said softly as you gestured to your own body, “this belongs to you, Papa. Only you.”

Copia groaned at your use of his title. It always sounded so lewd on your tongue, even when you weren’t in the bedroom the sound of it in your voice made him crazy. One of his hands moved down to palm at himself but you seized his wrist and pulled it away.

“Uh uh, no touching. I’m the one that’s doing all the touching tonight, remember?”

“Sì, sorella.” He sounded breathless as he sighed his words, completely infatuated with you as you knelt between his legs. You continued your teasing and grinned as you eked out more of those little noises from Copia, your fingers trailing up from his hips across his chest until you reached his nipples, pinching them and earning yourself a groan. He bucked his hips up into you, desperate for some kind of friction, and you could feel him spreading precum on your lower stomach with every thrust. Your hands shot back down to his hips and you pinned him to the mattress. Copia gave you a desperate little whine that made you want to tease him all night long. Anything to hear that noise again.

“Be patient,” you chided, “I want to appreciate every part of you. Thoroughly.”

Copia’s head fell back against the pillows as you began to press more kisses to his chest, following that line of hair down to his stomach. You knew how he felt about his stomach, always saying it stuck out too much when he would wear those beautifully tight suits. Personally, you had no idea where he got that from, but you understood how easy it was to hate your body when the people around you never had a kind word to say. He hid his face behind his arms, crossing them over his eyes and whimpering when you smoothed your hands up from his hips and over his stomach, kissing up from the base of his cock to his navel. You squeezed the little love handles above his hips for good measure. 

“I fucking love how soft you are.” You purred, stroking your thumbs across his hips.

“Amore, please.”

Copia was breathless at this point, taking in ragged gasps with every kiss and nip of your teeth as you made your way back to his thighs.

“And these fucking thighs,” you held the outside of his right thigh while pressing little kisses to the sensitive inner skin, completely ignoring how he begged you. “I could just sink my teeth into them.”

So you did. Copia whined above you and bucked his hips as you bit down, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a beautiful red-purple mark. You admired your work for a moment, tracing the slowly blooming bruise with the tip of a finger and making your lover squirm.

“Amore, I’m begging you, please!”

“Please what? You’re gonna have to be specific, love.” You ran the same finger tip up the underside of his cock, slowly, stopping just before you reached the tip.

“Please fuck me!” He gasped. “Oh, please amore, please.”

You smiled and pushed yourself up on your elbows to look at him, sweat beading on his forehead, and decided he had enough teasing. Taking his cock in your hand, you made eye contact with him before doing anything else.

“You look so pretty when you’re desperate.”

With that, you took the glistening tip into your mouth and swirled your tongue around it a few times, that desperate little whine escaping his lips again. It took every ounce of his willpower for Copia not to grab you by the hair and force himself down your throat. Instead, he fisted his hands in the sheets near his head, continuing with his whining as you slowly bobbed your head up and down, taking in more and more of him with each movement. One of your hands was wrapped firmly around his thigh, while the other reached down past his cock to tease his hole. He had begged you to fuck him, and you would take any opportunity given to you to use the strap-on in your bedside drawer. 

Copia squirmed when you made slow circles around his hole, still bobbing your head up and down his cock. You released him with a wet pop, only for a moment, swirling your tongue around your finger before bringing it back to his asshole. All you could hear was Copia’s long shuddering sigh as you pushed your finger into him while slowly taking his cock as deep as possible without gagging. He arched his back and stifled his moans with a fist between his teeth. The combined stimulation, especially when you started to slowly move in and out of him, was almost too much. You could tell he was trying so hard not to cum so soon. His breathing was deep and shuddering and you glanced up to see his face scrunched in the same frown he pulled when he was focusing on something, teeth locked on his hand and eyes screwed shut. You sunk down on his cock until he was against the back of your throat and moaned, cruel and yet so wonderfully stimulating, the vibrations in your throat made Copia groan. 

You gagged yourself, forcing him deeper than you knew you could handle, before coming up for air and resuming your ministrations. Copia started writhing beneath you, hips bucking wildly into your mouth as you brought him to his orgasm. 

“C-cazzo, amore!” He cried out as he released himself straight down your throat and you swallowed desperately, determined not to let a single drop of him escape you. You slowed your thrusts as he rode out the shockwaves of his orgasm, moving your hand lazily until he was a panting, whining mess.

“Thank you cara mia, ti amo.” He breathed as you kissed your way back up his body.

“I love you too, but I’m not finished yet.” 

“You’re not?”

You gave Copia a devilish smile before climbing off of him and crawling over to your side of the bed to dig around in your bedside cabinet. His eyes went wide as you pulled out your strap-on and a bottle of lube.

“Oh, cara,” he sighed, “you will be the death of me.”

You grinned and stepped off the bed, wrapping the harness around your hips and making sure it was secured tightly enough. Copia watched you walk around to the foot of the bed and beckon him to you with a finger.

“Come,” you instructed and he crawled towards you with a needy expression on his face. “Suck.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, wrapping his lips around the sleek black dildo and hollowing his cheeks. Copia always treated your toys as if they were a real part of your body, working them as you worked him and with just as much enthusiasm. He moaned around the silicone and you could feel yourself grow wetter at just the sight of him on his hands and knees for you, moaning with your strap in his mouth.

“Good boy, get it nice and wet.” You cooed. Your fingers carded through his tousled hair and he whined at the praise. 

Once you were satisfied, you pulled his head off of you with a hand twisted in his hair. Copia came away red faced and drooling. Such a beautiful sight. You had him lie back with his ass at the edge of the mattress, hands stroking up his thighs and encouraging him to open his legs further. Despite how wet he’d gotten your strap-on, you spread some lube over it for good measure, stroking it just to get Copia all hot and bothered.

With a single quick thrust, you sunk into Copia up to the hilt causing him to cry out your name in the most beautifully desperate voice.

“Much better than my fingers, huh?” You whispered in his ear and Copia nodded vigorously. “You deserve to feel good.”

You thrust into him again after that statement, making him lurch forwards and clutch at your arm while trying to hold himself up with the other hand. You braced yourself by grabbing hold of the canopy post beside you and started fucking your lover at a brutal pace. The harness rubbed against your throbbing clit and you moaned quietly. Copia looked so pretty as you pounded into him, oversensitive and blushing, and you made sure he knew it. You cupped his cheek and told him how much you loved him, how good it felt to fuck him, how beautiful he looked arching his back for you. Every word that fell from your lips was like ambrosia, nourishing Copia’s bruised ego and reassuring him that, yes, you did indeed love him and no, none of it was a lie or some cruel trick. You hunched over to plant your hands either side of him on the bed, scrunching the delicate silk sheets in your fists as you fucked into him even harder, grinding against the harness to get as much friction on your end as possible. Copia had started to get hard again from your pounding and his erection bounced against his stomach with the force of your relentless thrusts. 

You couldn’t help yourself. The sight of his cock already hard again and glistening with precum was just too enticing. Copia gasped as you took hold of him, stroking while you continued to thrust into him.

“Look at you, so irresistible. I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“Hng- amore, amore I don’t think I can last much longer.” He panted. You felt your own orgasm swiftly approaching, so easily coming undone at the sight before you.

“Don’t hold back, my love. Show me what I do to you.”

You jerked him even faster, your thumb firmly rubbing over his slit before each downstroke and making his back arch even further, providing the perfect angle for you to hit that sweet spot inside him. He began to spasm, hips thrusting up into your fist, and soon enough he was cursing at the top of his lungs as he came across your hand and stomach. But you didn’t slow down. You still had to finish. 

Copia’s whines grew even more desperate as you continued to fuck into him, rolling your hips as you ground against the harness. You joined him as you felt the white hot pleasure burning in your stomach, moaning with each spark of stimulation. When you finally came you struggled to hold yourself upright, doubling over as you gripped Copia’s thighs. 

You pulled out of him with a slick pop and unclipped the harness before crawling onto the bed with him, pulling Copia into your arms as you leaned back against the headboard.

“Thank you, amore.” Copia said again, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. You smiled and played with his hair as you held him.

“You don’t have to thank me every time, Copia.”

“I’m not thanking you for the sex, as good as it was.” He lifted his head to look at you. “I’m thanking you for staying with me. For loving me even when I do not love myself.”

You reached out to cup his cheek and pull him into a soft, sentimental kiss.

“I’ll always love you. For the rest of my life, no matter what.” Your words were almost lost between you as you spoke against Copia’s mouth. You could feel him smiling as he pressed another kiss to your lips before tucking his head back into your neck where he stayed for the rest of the night.

[cowboyemeritus]

Just Like Holy Mary (Antichrist!Copia/Reader)

Part 3 of "she let me hit cause i died and came back wrong." (18+)

Read on A03

I was so convinced we were gonna get Antichrist Copia for Easter...

Copia looks good for a man who’s just risen from the dead. Like really good. 

You watch him from your spot on the bed. Illuminated by an occasional flash of lighting, he stares out the window contemplatively, hands clasped behind his back. The rain falls in heavy sheets, roaring as it pounds against the glass. Despite the chaos outside, Copia is serene. You’ve never seen him carry himself with such sturdiness, with complete and utter confidence in his actions except on stage. To see him like this in the context of the abbey is strange, foreign, and yet it suits him perfectly. He looks comfortable in his own skin for once. You swear it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

You wish he’d get over here and fuck you already.

“Did you miss me while I was gone, amore?” He asks. “I’ve been told you cried for me.” You roll your eyes. Those damn ghouls, always snitching.

“It was hard, watching you in so much pain.” You sit up, letting the clumsily tied robe slip off of your shoulder. Copia’s eyes meet yours in the reflection in the window. They flick down to your exposed breast for a moment and his lip twitches upwards in a barely perceptible grin. “But I knew you would be back.” This earns you an intrigued hum.

“Did you, now?” He’s toying with you. He wants you to say it. You nod.

“Yes, Papa.” You swing your feet over the side of the bed and rise to your feet. Before long your chest is against his back, arms wrapping around him from behind. “I knew He would save you.” Copia sighs when you press a kiss to the center of his upper back. Even through the material of his robes, even after his metamorphosis, he’s still so, so sensitive there.

“I knew you were The One.”

You don’t need to see Copia’s face to know he’s smiling, victorious and proud. Slowly, he removes himself from your grasp and turns to face you. His gloved hand is warm against your cheek when he cups it, the smell of leather a comfort after his absence. You want to melt into it.

“I expected nothing less.” Finally, he kisses you. His lips are ever so slightly chapped, a product of laying in state in the dry chapel air, but you couldn’t care less. The warmth of his body against yours is anchoring, assuring you that, yes, this is real. He’s really here.

You’ll get him some chapstick later. Now, it’s time to worship your risen savior.

You press into the kiss, begging Copia to claim more of your mouth. When you dart your tongue against his bottom lip he lets out a noise akin to a laugh and pulls away. Devastated by the loss, you drop to your knees before him, balling his robes in your fists.

“Papa,” you plead, barely a whisper. Craving more of him, you fumble through the layers of fabric until you’re grasping the laces of his trousers and pulling. Copia chuckles warmly, but the hand he places against your cheek is strikingly firm. Despite this, you’re immediately leaning into his touch, your lips dancing across leather until the tip of a finger is between your teeth. Hands wandering, you lightly grasp his wrist as you crane your head back. The glove slides off in a fluid motion and at once you’re pressing a kiss to his palm. You adore the mark in the center; while the spot of raised flesh brings images of Copia’s recent suffering to mind, with its twin, it is a symbol of his newfound kingship.

“My love,” you whisper, nuzzling your cheek into his scarred palm. Glancing upwards, you lock eyes with Copia. He was always a very expressive man, wearing his heart on his sleeve. You used to be able to read him like a book. Now, it’s impossible to say what he’s thinking. For a moment, his empty gaze makes something in your stomach drop. Your legs twitch, and a primal part of your mind screams at you to run. But then he smiles fondly and it has your heart singing. It’s really him. You were right to believe.

You were right to save yourself for this man.

The years of ridicule from the other sisters had been worth it. They’d called you a lunatic, thinking a freak like Copia could ever amount to anything. He was too strange, too meek, they had said. Like one of his rats, he would be easily crushed under the boot of the Ministry. But you knew from the first moment you saw him that he’d defy those expectations. And now he’s done it. The wait is over and you want nothing more than to show your devotion, to lavish him with the praise he so rightly deserves. 

To let him taint your soul forever.

“Stand, mia cara.” You are the picture of obedience, rising to your feet. Still, you are not without your usual sense of mischief, tugging at the sash of your robe and letting the silken garment pool at your feet. If Copia is amused by this or not, you can’t tell.

He kisses you again, hands traveling to your naked hips and pulling you in. You’re already fiddling with the fastener of his robes, and he has to reach up and grab your wrists before you can start unzipping. His grip straddles the line of uncomfortable as he detaches from your mouth and you can’t help but whine. At this, Copia chuckles.

“Lay down for me,” he murmurs, placing a peck on your cheek. It’s surprisingly chaste, and yet it has warmth pooling between your legs. He pulls away and immediately you begin to shiver. Trying to dispel the cold, you climb onto the bed eagerly. You arrange yourself carefully, laying back on the pillows with your legs folded to the side. The entire time Copia undresses, he never once breaks eye contact with you. While you watch, mouth watering, he strips himself of his robes. After he methodically hangs them up in the closet, he unhooks his suspenders. He isn’t as careful with his shirt and pants, opting to leave them in a pile on a nearby chair. It seems that his patience, too, is wearing thin.

Captivated by his gaze, you miss when cock springs free from the confines of his underwear. Even without looking at it directly, though, you can see how it juts out proudly, hanging heavy between Copia’s legs. You swallow; not out of nervousness, but because you think you might just start drooling over the thought of him defiling you with it.

When he finally — finally! — lowers himself onto the bed, you let your legs spread. The rush of cold air on your core is almost startling compared to how warm and fuzzy you are inside. You were expecting to feel shy in this moment, exposing your flower to him for the first time. However, the adrenaline in your veins is intoxicating, only serving to spur you on.

Copia is on top of you before you can think, slotting his hips between your legs. He kisses you, much rougher than before, and then grinds his sex into yours. The feeling of his hardness as it brushes against your clit has you clenching around nothing, and you moan desperately into his mouth.

“Papa,” you whine, feeling particularly brave. You don’t know how much room you have to make demands right now, but if he keeps this up much longer, you think you might cry. Besides, you reckon it’s for a good cause. “I’m all yours. Please, let me serve you.” Copia doesn’t answer you immediately, opting instead to migrate down to your neck. He hums softly while he covers your soft skin with kisses, making sure to suck little marks wherever he can.

“I should be the one,” he starts, cut off by your moan when he palms at your breast. “I should be the one serving you tonight. No one has ever shown me the amount of devotion that you do.” He presses his lips to a spot under your ear that has you shaking. “That deserves to be rewarded, I think.” Despite the situation, you can’t help but blush, caught off guard by the proclamation. More of the old Copia — the dorky, loving man who makes you smile to yourself at the mere thought of him — survived than you’d known.

“But you’re…” The words evaporate when Copia nips your ear lobe.

“I know, darling.” It’s barely a whisper, but loud enough for you to notice the hunger in his voice. He must be holding himself back. A hand migrates down your body, caressing your curves until fingers are circling your clit. You gasp, bucking your hips into his touch. When you open your mouth, trying to give him an answer, he takes himself in hand, pressing the tip of his cock to your entrance.

“Now, let me love you, my unholy Mary Magdalene.”

[turbodrawn]

Decided to link the Copia fics I've got on AO3

Tradeoff: Angst ficlet, Copia finds out his promotion to frontrunner of the Ghost Project came at a cost (complete)

Daggers of Megiddo: Very angsty reader/Copia ficlet, the Daggers of Megiddo had become an imminent threat to Copia's wellbeing, and now you find him, laying on the ground of the chapel, in what appears to be a pool of his own blood (complete)

All I Want is You: Slowburn friends to lovers reader/Copia fic, you and Copia become fast friends as you join the Ministry, which, as time progresses and Copia makes his way to becoming the new Papa, develops into something more (in progress, 2 chapters published as of posting)

[mx-pastelwriting]

Saving My Fanfiction Work

Due to the recent events in the United States. To clarify the recent events being Trump becoming president of the United States, Project 2025 more than likely going to be integrated. If you are not familiar with Project 2025 I urge you to look it up.

Along with the KOSA bill that has many problems and it has passed the senate now needing the finally vote in the house, which both are majority red. Go here to learn more on why it needs to be stopped and how you can. This is another component that will harm our communities. Go to: stopkosa.com

With all of its harmful plans some of the plans are to take down/restrict internet sites that have LGBTQ+ communities that means communities like the fan-fiction communities/sites in the United States.

I am only giving resources to those inside and out of the US in case they banned sites that hold fan-fiction. Better safe than sorry.

Being that I live in the US the possibly of mine and many others Fanfiction has the possibly of being in danger. Therefore I'm giving you recourses. (I'm not leaving or stopping my writing, I'm here for the fight!)

For those wanting to save my fanfiction, I give you permission to download them off of AO3 and to be used for your personal collection. Meaning, your eyes only. To clarify I’m saying this as others have asked if they could download my fanfic so for those who would like to you can.

If you do not know how to download them many others on online have tutorials on how to download them and add them to our phone libraries.

Here are some links to tutorials:

Downloading Fanfic

Adding to Iphone & Android Library

Adding to Kindle Library - Video on How (On TikTok)

Adding Book Covers (At the bottom) - Good EPUB Cover Changer (I use this)

Types of Files and What they mean

Please stay safe out there! Remember to follow the rules below.

DO NOT share the downloaded file anywhere online.

DO NOT repost the downloaded file under your name.

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI, or reposted on any other platform without permission.

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Please stay safe out there friends! I love you so much! Know that there will always people that love you and in for the fight to make sure you are loved!

[zenith1994]

The second an x reader fanfic describes the hair and eye colour and they don't match mine

[dodgemaxson]

I LOVE USING THESE FOR ANYONE WHO WANT THEM!

[quaildoodle]

I just really like the theory of copia becomeing more and more unhinged and paranoid bc he fears his inevitable demise :3c

[lilspacewolfie]

I Will Hold You For The Minute

I have a lot of feelings about this movie, too many to express, so please take this even though I'm sure it is not at all coherent <3

Content: 1.1k words, Copia x gn!reader, soft and angsty, idk i have too many feelings right now, ghovie related, Copia stresses a lot, lots of kisses, sweetness, that new fit oh my fucking satan its so hot, no beta.

It is so late that the Ministry halls are deathly silent, with only the rodents out of their hunts. It’ll probably be morning soon, you haven’t looked at a clock for hours, but the world outside remains cool and black. 

Today has been… a lot. That is the only way you can think of describing it. Overwhelming, emotional—like a tornado has ripped through the halls… and yet everything is the same, untouched. 

The man you love, standing before the mirror in his room and studying his reflection, is still here. He’s still Copia. 

Alive and breathing. 

You watch him from the doorway of his bathroom, having just slipped the last of his paint pots into the cabinets, stored away, wondering if they’ll ever be used again. Probably, most likely not. Melancholy has been a familiar friend for you today, and you cannot even begin to imagine how Copia is feeling. 

Copia, now Frater Imperator. 

It is surreal. 

Copia’s got an appraising face on. You watch his gloved hands touch the black glittering clerical collar, smoothing down the front of his new, stunning jacket. It is beautiful, tailor-made and spun from the finest wool with twisted, peak lapels made of the softest, shiniest satin. Attached to the lapels and edged with black gemstones, two precious rubies are pinned with a chain connecting in the centre from which a black grucifix swings. It sparkles under the lamplight, like stars against a black sky at the bottom of which, a ruby red tear-drop gem dangles. It’s ridiculous, maybe even a little bit impractical, but it's certainly Copia. And he looks damn good.

He fiddles with the collar and adjusts his cuffs for the hundredth time that night, and you watch his shoulders visibly slump when he meets your eyes in the mirror. You can't help but smile. How can you not? You love him, adore him with everything you are. 

“Hey,” you whisper, stepping into the room, “the bath is ready…”

Copia nods, his eyes back on his reflection. You pad up to him, barefoot and wrapped in his robe that hangs off your body, sliding an arm through his elbow. You lean against his shoulder, squeezing his bicep. The material creases under your touch, cool and crisp.

“Are you ready to get all this off?” You say again, softly, stroking up his arm tenderly. 

The stiffness that grips him is telling enough. When you find his gaze again, his unblinking and wide eyes are glassy, a little of his paint starting to smear down his cheek with a single tear. You can’t help when your own eyes start to burn. The emotions of the day are finally coming to a head. You’ve both been as strong as you can, an unspoken rule that matters not behind closed doors.

“You did so well,” you whisper, sliding a hand down to his tense one. When you lace your fingers through his, his grip is vice.

“Amore…” The way his voice falters on the term is too much for you.

“I’m so proud of you,” you sniffle, your own tears falling. You grip him tighter, leaning into him, watching your pictures in the mirror. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Copia. My Copia…”

When his face crumbles, you pull each other in a tight, suffocating embrace. Copia buries his head in your shoulder and finally, finally, a sob breaks from him. His grip on you is tense, gloved fingers grasping at you desperately, like he’s afraid if he loosens his hold for a moment you’ll slip through his fingers like smoke. He wets your neck with tears, trembling as you stroke a hand through his soft hair and nuzzle into him. 

You kiss the soft, secret space of skin just under his ear, forever marked by your mouth as you hush him. You whisper words of affection and love, pouring everything you have into him, filling his cup with your light while you replace yours with his dark in the hopes he can find some relief. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you tell him again, softly, half-choked. “Everyone will be… so proud of you.” 

“I—I hope I did good for them. I hope I—I was good enough,” he whimpers on a shaky breath.

“Oh, you did so well,” you cradle the back of his neck and press your cheek to his before you nudge him back. The paint around his eyes is a messy smear down his cheeks, his top lip mashed and smeared into his bottom.

You cradle his handsome face, stroking bare thumbs over his cheeks, catching tears and smears of black paint. His eyes are bloodshot, the white iris starker in the centre of its red rim. The wrinkles of his face are deeper somehow with the stress, with all the loss and heartache, but it doesn’t detract from his beauty—from your Copia.

Leaning up on your tip-toes, you press your forehead to his and close your eyes. His hands stay around you, keeping you close. He’s still tense, but softening as the emotions are finally allowed out of the floodgates. 

“You did so well, my baby. My beautiful, sweet man,” you reaffirm again, smiling bittersweet, pulling back to kiss his cheek. Copia closes his eyes and sniffles again. 

“You will always be Copia. Nothing will ever change that.” You kiss his opposite cheek, speaking between sweet pecks. Copia starts to sway with you, slow, ample movements as you speak. “No matter your title,” another kiss, “no matter your appearance or your dress.” You kiss his forehead. “Papa Emeritus. Frater Imperator Copia.” You kiss his wet lids and the tip of his nose. “You will always be loved and treasured, forever. By your fans, by me, by everyone, my sweet boy. I know we are all so proud of you even if it all feels shit right now.” Your smile is bittersweet when he cracks his eyes open. They’re less watery than before. And you chuckle, quietly, nuzzling your nose to his. He lets out a heavy sigh.

Finally, after a few more bittersweet tears, you kiss him on the mouth. You melt into each other, gripping his lapels, his hand on the back of your neck, everything so soft, solid and shaky all at once. It’s strange, to finally watch the balloon that's been inflating beneath his ribs finally pop. 

“Ti amo,” Copia crokes roughly. “I don’t know what I would ever do without you, amore.”

You bring your hands up once more, caressing his temples and stroking through his soft, mousy hair and greys. He purrs, mismatched eyes fluttering. He pulls you in for another deep kiss, humming into our mouth when you part your lips.

It will take time to accept the changes, you know, neither of you will ever get used to such a huge shift… You’ve both always been afraid of the future and talked about your fears and anxieties in the late morning hours when neither of you could sleep. But you’ve done it before, and you will do it again, together as one.

You know that with him, the future doesn’t look so foreign.

<3

masterlist ⛧ Ao3

[ghostchems]

longing - papa emeritus iv x f!reader

at a certain moment during a performance, copia thinks of you.

a/n: the mic holder fingering will always be in my thoughts. 1.1k words. fingering, obviously. 18+! mdni! ao3 link.

He had done it again.

Every night he loses himself, a brief moment where his mind wanders off beyond the crowd, beyond the crushing responsibility of furthering the the Clergy agenda. Copia thinks of you. He closes his eyes and feels the music, drawing in a sharp gasp as his hand drifts up the mic stand. You’re so far away back at headquarters with your own duties. It hurts for him to be away this long. He misses how soft you feel in his arms, how you laugh at his really dumb jokes and the more suggestive sounds you make when he touches you in just the right spot.

Copia’s finger pushes into the mic holder and fingers it, eyes squeezed shut and lips parting at the thought of it being between your legs. The roar of the crowd brings him back down to earth, back down to the moment. Eyes shoot open and he wrenches his finger from the mic stand, a mix of shock and disgust on his face. He’s learned to play it up because of how often it happens. He thrives in front of a crowd but after being away so long he yearns to be back in your bed, buried under the covers with an old movie on the tv. A quick turn and he’s marching back off stage with the ghouls wrapping up the song.

Long, slow exhale as he walks up to the golden mirror, taking a moment to regard himself. He smoothes out his jacket and fidgets with his cravat when he’s distracted by a figure in the mirror behind him. A gasp! And then he gives noises that can only be described a Copia noises when he realizes it’s you. Oh, it’s you. He’s on you so quickly, boney arms wrapped around you and pulling you in close. Heart is pounding in his chest as he continues making excited noises until the words finally come out.

“I was just thinking of you.” Copia is breathless, burying his face in your hair to drink in your scent. How he missed you so. He’s nearly trembling, overcome with deep love and affection for you.

“You’re doing so great, Copia.” You whisper and hug him back just as tight. “I… I don’t want to distract you, though. I can wait in the wings until you’re done for the night.” He feels you start to move away from him but he tightens his grip to keep you firmly in place.

“Nononono. Stay here.” Copia runs a gloved hand through your hair. “I eh, have some time.” He leans back to look at you and my god, does it stir something primal and deep inside of him. Thoughts flit back to the mic stand. “I have something to show you, actually.” He hums and takes you by the arms and pulls you off into a dark corner of backstage. His heart pounds in his chest. There’s not much time but he can’t let this moment with you slip away. Once he has you out of view his mouth finds your earlobe, catching it with his teeth as his hands desperately paw at your clothes.

“P-papa!” You squeal as his lips travel down your neck.

“Shhh-shhh, amore. They mustn’t hear us.” Copia huffs and nips just below your jaw. You gasp as his hand slips down the front of your pants and he takes a breath to lean back, taking in your wide eyes and how your breath quickens with a groan. You are so delicious he can hardly stand it. “I’ve longed for you. Every night I think of you, wishing I could touch you again.” His voice cracks and he presses his forehead to yours. You’re speechless. Copia’s fingers toy with the hem of your underwear, humming in approval at the wetness that pools through the thin fabric. He pushes the fabric aside and slips a finger inside your slick folds.

Your mouth drops open in a low groan that Copia quickly swallows with his own lips. Both sighing together, with him peppering you with slow, deliberate kisses as he works another finger inside. He stretches you open and sinks his fingers as deep as he can, languid strokes that make your toes curl in your shoes. You want to cry out, to moan and huff but you can’t — you can see some movement behind him, the stage crew doing their jobs of moving equipment and instruments. Copia’s other hand snatches you by the chin and forced you to look into his eyes.

“Stay with me, amore.” He hisses against your lips before claiming them with a fiery, possessive kiss. Tongue invades your mouth, drinking in all of your sighs and moans. He thrusts his fingers inside of you at a rough pace, curling them once they’ve sank in as far as they’ll go. Your knees start to buckle, core impossibly tense from how he tears you into pieces. Nails dig into his black jacket, gasping into his mouth while half-lidded eyes meet his mismatched gaze. A growl rumbles up from Copia’s throat. He loves seeing you like this, utterly under the spell of his skillful fingers.

“I-I’m here.” You choke out, breaking away from the kiss but tugging him in closer so that your noses touch.

"Va bene." Copia whispers back, his voice a soothing balm over your senses. His fingers continue their relentless rhythm, drawing you ever closer to the precipice. Your breath hitches, body trembling as he coaxes you towards a shattering release. The world narrows down to just the two of you, lost in each other, hidden in the chaos backstage. Heat rushes to your face and spreads throughout your body until it’s too much to take. Your body convulses and a shattered cry falls from your lips, your climax overtaking you. He groans in approval, pressing slow kisses to your temple and then down your cheek before ending with one unbelievably tender kiss to your lips.

“I must return to the stage, amore.” Copia muses as he pulls his fingers from you. He brings them to his nose, taking a long whiff of the heady scent before licking the slick off his gloves. “I am… so happy you are here.” You see that twinkle in his eyes that made you fall hard for him in the first place. He cups your face, thumbs stroking along your cheekbones to soothe you from your high. You take him by the wrist, a shuddered breath leaving your lips.

“Burgers after?” You manage to crack a smile between huffs. His face lights up and he pulls you in for a warm hug.

“Burgers and fries, baby.” Copia plants one last kiss to your cheek and gives you a squeeze before skipping off to back to the stage.

[liquiddrywall]

Stay and Burn by Keggy_Chaos on ao3 is at the top of my list so far!! Haven’t finished it but from what I’ve read so far it’s really cute plus it has PLENTY of good smut so I def recommend :)

this is a gift (it comes with a price) by moonlightserenades on ao3 is also really good!! It’s ongoing but the story’s got me hooked, and my goodness the way that this author writes mutual pining and YEARNING. It’s absolutely delicious 10/10

does anyone have any slow burn copia x fem reader fic recs i need for reasons okay

[ghouliaxghuleh]

As Above, So Below

//Chapter Two\\

Pairing(s): Papa Emeritus III/Reader, Mary Goore/Reader (Eventual) Tags: SFW (i'm sorry), Terzo/Reader backstory, discussion of death. Word Count: 3.4K Summary: As you recall the start of your relationship with Terzo and your first meeting with the Cardinal, Copia gives you no choice but to accept a position as Imperator's temporary replacement. While the decision comes seemingly out of nowhere, you can't help but wonder if Copia has other intentions for you...

THERE IS A NEW STOP ON YOUR CHORE LIST  -  the morning is warm and fresh dew clings to the windows, the smell of fresh linens filling the hallway as bedsheets are dried and hand delivered. You aren’t particularly fond of laundry day, but due to its tedious and time consuming nature, it’s the only chore you have today. It’s also an added plus that it was Terzo’s night to do the midnight sermon. You don’t try to fight the excitement that bubbles up in you at the notion of seeing Papa later, so much so that the extra stop is hardly concerning at all. 

The laundry cart wheels noisily down the hallway, metal screeching in desperate need of oiling. The sound echoes loudly off the vast and towering walls of the ministry, announcing your arrival at least two minutes before you ever made it to the door. You only start to get annoyed when the wheels start wanting to jam, prolonging the entire endeavor and making the entire cart heavier to push. 

When you finally reach the last stop, the door opens before you have a chance to knock. Before now, the room has sat vacant, located next to the personal quarters of clergymen and other higher ranking siblings. You don’t get a second to consider the strangeness of the entire situation, why someone would just move to this new room without you hearing anything. 

A man stands on the other side of the door - and he has the eye. 

The stark white iris is startling against the rest of his face, expression one of surprise more than anything. He stands before you wearing what looks like clergy attire, but there’s an ornateness to it that the other uniforms lack. You know you’ve never seen him before today, which makes the entire situation all the more awkward. 

“Hello,” His voice is timid, eyes cast downwards at the floor when he notices your stare fixated on his face. “These are yours,” You say, fumbling to take the last of the linens from the cart, briefly checking the numbers on the door to make sure you were right. 

You let your eyes scan the inside of his room over his shoulder, making note of the unopened boxes and expensive accents. It’s not at all like the other clergy rooms, you realize. As if noticing the intrusion, the man takes the linens from your hands, gloved fingers grazing your skin and drawing your gaze back to his. His eyes don’t find yours, focusing on the ironed white sheets. 

“Thank you, Sister,” He says, stepping back into the comfort of his room. “Have a good day…” Your voice trails off, unaware of how to address him. 

The man gives you a soft smile, but he doesn’t reply, shutting the door gently. You stand in front of it for a moment in silence, trying to piece together the last few minutes. You’d never seen this man, and yet from his personal quarters and attire, you assumed him to be a higher ranking official. There’d been no announcement of a transfer, and gossip got around the ministry like it was candy. If there was someone new, you knew they were coming from a mile away. This man, however, seemed to evade their watchful stare, avoiding even the noseist of siblings and stowing away unnoticed. 

When you finally regained feelings in your legs, you turned away from his room, wheeling the laundry cart back down the hallway. Through the squeal of the wheels, you hadn’t heard the soft creak of the door opening once more, nor noticed the unfamiliar stare that was pinned against your back. Wherever this man had come from, he inflicted you with a feeling of unease yet intrigue, you had both the desire to know more about him and to stay far away from him. 

Your mind drifted as you pushed the empty card down the hallway, until it was abruptly stalled, your arms jerking gently at the sudden stop. A gentle, rich laughter bounced off the stone walls, easing the uncomfortable atmosphere that overcame you. Through the shelves in the cart you could see the suit-clad body, gloved hands, and stark black hair. 

Terzo’s eyes find yours over the metal, his gaze significantly softer than the stranger at the end of the hall. His presence brings about a calmness in you that makes the previous events seem irrelevant. 

“Ey, it seems you’re done with your chores. Care to take a detour with your Papa, sorella?” 

Your relationship with Terzo sits at a standstill, dancing on the lines of sexual yet you’ve never so much as kissed Papa, let alone done much more. You know he delights in taking siblings to the bed with him, and you’re quite privy to the rumors regarding his supposed sexual prowess. It isn’t that you don’t want to - you do, but it’s the fear that if you do, you won’t be able to stop from feeling something else for him. Falling in love with your Papa, while not a sin and certainly not a rarity in the ministry, rarely ended well for any sibling. 

Still, despite the cloudy thought that looms in your mind, you muster up a smile for Terzo and nod your head, allowing him to push the cart forward. 

“You don’t have to push the cart, Papa.” “What kind of man would I be if I allowed a sister to struggle with a laundry cart?” 

He eases it along the marble floors as if it’s floating, an impressive feat given his smaller stature in comparison to the other Papa’s. 

“I appreciate it, Papa. What brings you over here?” “To see my favorite sister,” He replies smoothly, crinkling slightly as he smiles warmly over at you, “Imperator has kept you so busy, I find it harder to steal you away.” “I want to impress her,” You say, eyes twinkling with hope, “I’m hoping to move forward within the ministry.” 

Terzo’s eyes glimmer, as he turns the corner towards his personal chambers. Your heart thuds against your chest at the connotation of going to Papa’s room - alone. You don’t believe that he would bring you here without first offering the choice, but the chance of it leaves you bouncing in your steps a little. 

“For my favorite sister, I could put in a good word with the clergy,” He offers, it’s light in the air, there’s no pressure to respond to his inquisition. 

“I want to earn recognition without having Papa’s favor, though I appreciate it greatly, I do.” 

Secretly, you want nothing more than to take him up on his offer. The thrill of moving up in the ministry because of Papa brings forth a feeling of pride in you that’s unfamiliar. For all the siblings that have wanted to earn his or the other brother’s favor, he’s offering you something very powerful here, as if he’s asking you to come to brunch with him. 

“The offer remains on the table,” he says, “and please, call me Terzo. I would like to think that we are in more comfortable circumstances, yes?” 

The delight of his request softens you further, leaning closer to him as he stops in front of his door. 

“Yes, Terzo…” 

There’s a moment of silence that passes between the two of you, before he pushes the cart away, eliminating one of the many barriers between the two of you. 

“You’re done with your chores, yes? Why don’t you come inside for a little bit? I’m sure pushing a heavy cart around all morning would be quite a strain. I’ve been told I have magic fingers.” 

He waggles his gloved fingers at you, eyebrows shooting up at you. Strands of black hair fall to the side of his face and in front of his eyes. This is your favorite version of Terzo, this casual and playful demeanor is what draws you further into the ministry. You also have to admit, you’re a sucker for the messy hair look. 

“What about the cart,” You ask quietly, as he steps closer, fingertips reaching out to grasp the edges of your habit. 

“It can be taken care of,” Terzo responds, “if you do not want to, I understand.” 

Engaging with a Papa is something hardly offensable, if not admirable in the ministry. Many siblings fight for their chance to bed a Papa, and though it seems the brothers have an insatiable appetite, the amount of siblings continues to grow with each passing day. Terzo’s reign has brought forth tremendous success and growth, and each day you hear more and more stories about the brother’s alleged conquests. 

“If only for a few minutes, keep your Papa company. No touchy-touchy, I promise.” 

Terzo crosses his fingers over his heart, holding his hands up in surrender. The gesture makes you giggle, absentmindedly nodding your head as he opens up the double doors leading into his personal quarters. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen them, after hearing so many stories. Laundry chores don’t extend to Papa, for there is usually a specific, senior ranking sibling that takes care of him personally. It always left you a little disappointed, for you were always curious what his room looked like. 

“It’s beautiful,” You offer him, staring at the immaculate surroundings in awe. 

The entire room is painted in black, purple, and gold - Terzo’s colors. A massive fireplace sits at the center of his living quarters, a plush, velvet couch in front of it with a set of matching chairs on either side. A candle flickers softly atop the mahogany table, the scent light and comforting. Terzo steps inside, holding the door open for you in silent invitation. You take one final glance over at the forgotten laundry cart - Sister will be upset that you’re late in returning it, but they have so many. Surely the one won’t be missed for a few more minutes… 

You enter into Terzo’s quarters, and don’t try this time to fight the rush of anticipation as it fills your soul, the door shutting with a gentle click. 

The papal quarters are located at the end of the hallway on the upper levels, lavishly adorned in symbols of the fourth Emeritus and shades of sapphire and gold. It’s entirely too gaudy and flashy for your taste, you much preferred the simpler and more elegant tastes of the previous Papa, or even the minimalist tastes of Secondo. Emeritus the Fourth delights in the extravagance of his newly gained title and stops at nothing to flaunt it when given the opportunity. 

You aren’t sure what brings you all the way to his personal quarters in broad daylight, especially considering you’d been recently spared the trouble of becoming his prime mover. You wondered secretly if he’d found out that you possessed something from the former papa,  though you’re sure even Terzo would tell you that you were being paranoid. The hallway is clear of other siblings, and even the Imperator is still absent late into the afternoon. 

You stand outside the double doors leading into his quarters in silence, toying wordlessly with the hem of your habit. You didn't used to walk this hallway so anxiously, but since Copia ascended the title of Papa you’ve found you dread it the most. The last time he called you in his personal quarters, he chided you for an hour over your lack of attention during his sermons and performance degradation as a sibling. Yes - the last time you came to his quarters, he threatened to have you thrown out of the ministry. 

It was understandable really why you’d feel so apprehensive to meet him this evening, but to your surprise the door fell open with a soft creak. Copia stands in the soft light of his room wearing his black vestments from his earlier sermon, face paint touched up and neat as he steps aside, ushering you into his room. 

“Please, come in, Sister.” 

His voice is light and pleasant, but you’ve learned it’s no true indicator to his mood or intentions. Copia is, if anything, good at keeping his wants and desires hidden. You step into the living quarters of his suite, the air warm from the soft crackle of the fireplace, gentle afternoon light shining through the stained glass windows. 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t call you here under unpleasant circumstances.” 

Copia gestures to a set of chairs in front of the fireplace, shutting the door with a gentle click. It’s hard to imagine that these were once Terzo’s quarters, all evidence of the previous Papa has been scrubbed from the room. New flooring laid and paint colors chosen, every piece of furniture and trim had been replaced befitting the new Papa’s taste. There were several vacant rooms that he could have chosen from, but Copia had insisted on taking Terzo’s. He was dead after all, and what use did a dead man have for a room with a view of the garden? 

“I have been considering your position here at the ministry for some time.” 

The confession produces a pit at the bottom of your stomach, Copia’s eyes drifting over to yours for a brief second before returning to the fire. His gloved fingers were tracing circles on one of the intricate side tables, the sound of the leather gliding against the wood barely audible over the crackle of the wood. 

“Perhaps, I have been neglecting you, a child of my flock. Your loyalty to him is admirable.” 

Though he speaks kindly, Copia’s refusal to even speak Terzo’s name left you leaning away from him in the plush chairs, something that did not go unnoticed. As if sensing your movement, Copia turns his body to face you entirely, his attention fully on you for the first time in many months. 

“As I said, Sister, I did not call you here under unpleasant circumstances.” There’s an air of question in his tone, an implication you aren’t quite understanding as he stares at you quietly, the warm glow of the flames creating mesmerizing shadows against his painted skin. 

You’re apprehensive to admit that he’s truly become a Papa in the last few months, even rivaling Terzo in glamor and admiration. You aren’t sure what changed in the cardinal since becoming Emeritus the Fourth, but it leaves you feeling as though you stand before a stranger, rather than someone you’ve known for a while now. 

“Imperator will be away on business, and in the meantime, some of the older members of the clergy suggested that we have a senior sibling fill in, someone who has been with the ministry for a while.” “I thought to myself,” Copia continued, “who better a candidate than the prime mover of our previous Papa? You’ve dedicated yourself to our cause in the most esteemed way, and this should solve our little problem, ey?” 

You get the feeling in his tone that he isn’t offering the position to you, he’s enforcing it on you. He isn’t going to let you leave today without saying yes, and suddenly you start to feel the vast room closing in on you. The fire seems to drive out the final remnants of cold from the afternoon and a sheen of sweat coats your body. 

“Yes, Papa.” 

Copia’s eyes glow with approval, and he nods wordlessly, fingertips tapping the wood. He holds your gaze for a moment longer before inclining his head towards the door. 

“You are dismissed, Sister. In the morning, you begin your new assignment.” 

It takes some effort to push open the heavy doors, but you start to stagger into the hallway when Copia speaks again. 

“One final thing,” His eyes have returned to you, intense and unwavering, “this position requires a bit of trust, yes? Betraying the trust of the clergy, whether that’s through sharing whatever information may come your way, or planning to defy your Papa, is one of the most grievous offenses a sibling can commit. You’re being given a very prestigious honor, Sister. Do not disappoint.” 

He waves you away with a final glance, eyes drifting over to the frost covered windows. Every visit with Copia leaves you more confused than the last. Trying to discern what he wants is like pulling teeth, you know he’ll never give you a straight answer no matter how nicely you ask or how much you dedicate yourself to the ministry. The only thing you’re sure of is that he seems to delight in torturing you, why else would he keep you around, after your steady decline during his papacy? 

You try not to speed up as you exit the hallway, stepping back into one of the wider, main walkways. There’s a pit forming in your stomach, festering as it coils around your gut, ruining any appetite you had. 

A longing surfaces at the front of your mind, the memory of your first time in Terzo’s quarters floating around and reminding you of just how much things have changed. You used to walk these walls with excitement - the desire to excel and move up within the ministry had once been your mission, but now, it’s laughable. You can’t imagine becoming anything under Copia’s reign, in fact, all desire to be anything had left you long ago. 

You didn’t need to wonder, however, why he was offering you this position. You’d heard a saying once in your youth from your mother, one you couldn’t understand until now. 

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. Why would you want to keep your enemies close, it seemed so unsensible. But with Copia, you finally get it. Keeping you close means he can keep a close watch on what you do, where you go, who you talk to. It all seems much clearer, when you think of it like that. 

Terzo’s offer had been one that gave you freedom, Copia’s was one meant to condemn you further. 

You walk through the empty corridors absentmindedly, thoughts awash with this new proposition, with Terzo, and that damned box. At this point you’re desperate to be done with the entire thing, but the mystery of it continues to allure you, drawing you back in. Somehow, perhaps by figuring out what it was he was so desperate to keep away from the Cardinal, you could make sense of his gruesome, abrupt death. 

Through your wandering, you find yourself in the same hallway as the catacombs. The door is under constant supervision, since the start of the Copia’s reign. Deep beneath the catacombs there are the bodies of many senior clergy members, as well as the previous papa’s. Even Terzo’s sits below, guarded and chained to prevent any ill-intentioned sibling from ‘defacing’ it. Secretly you think that Copia doesn’t want anyone worshiping the old Papa’s anymore, considering his conquest to erase their existence from the ministry. Not even allowing siblings to visit the place he is laid, it seemed deeply personal. 

Currently, two of Copia’s personal ghouls stand by the door, speaking quietly to themselves. You recognize by their respective height and general disposition that it must be Swiss and Dew. The former ghoul is the friendliest of the entire group, you think. Swiss seems not to mind the company of the siblings, or bothered by their constant barrage of questions and demands. In fact, he seemed to enjoy their attention.  

Dew on the other hand, was a much different story. You evaded the ghoul more than you evaded Copia. Where Copia could hide his irritation with you behind a convincing smile, Dew never once tried to pretend he was interested in human’s or their business. Being in this world seemed to make him uncomfortable, but he’d always been that way, even during the former Papa’s days. 

The conversation between them lulled to a close, heads drifting towards your direction as their covered eyes found your body,  half concealed by the corner of the walls. 

“Catacombs is off limits to siblings, darling,” Swiss says, taking a tentative step away from the door. He smiles gently, tail swishing softly against the floor. 

“I know,” You say quickly, stepping backwards, “I was just leaving.” “Why are you over here?” 

It’s Dew’s voice this time, exhaling a long puff of smoke through his mask. 

“I wasn’t intending to come here,” You said, shaking your head, “I’m leaving.” 

You don’t give either ghoul a chance to respond, turning on your heel and quickly heading back to your room. The longer the day dragged on, the more unnerved you were getting. With your new ‘job’, your dream of Terzo, and the impending hunter’s moon, you could practically feel the magic and anticipation building in the air. Everyone was antsy for a night of uninhibited sin, but you couldn’t help but feel the tickle of something bad rapidly coming your way.

[deakyjoe]

Misfire

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Reader (afab)

Category: smut, fluff

Summary: After a long day, Copia gets a little too excited at finally seeing you.

Warnings: 18+, smut, dry humping, premature ejaculation, kissing, groping, cum eating, shower sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, f receiving oral, cream pie, established relationship, stressed Copia, needy Copia, hurt/comfort, praise kink, fluff

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: Every horny thought I had previously about Copia that had been pushed to the back of my mind with the insistence of “I don’t need to write that” came back in full swing after RHRN and manifested into this. Title comes from the song of the same name by Queen.

Consider buying me a coffee :)

The day had been long and stressful. Like most days were. And there was nothing Copia wanted more than to be back in his room, in bed, with you underneath him or his face buried between your legs. It was the only suitable way to unwind after a difficult day in his opinion. Fucking you.

As soon as his last meeting was done, and he'd managed to convince Sister Imperator that the latest pile of paperwork she'd dumped on his desk could wait for tomorrow, he was out the door and practically running to go and find you. Thankfully, you were exactly where you always were at the end of the day. You were waiting for him back in his rooms, ready to do whatever he needed to feel better.

The door swung open with an unceremonious thwack against the wall, door handle banging into the paint and contributing to the dent that already existed there. It slammed back into its frame behind Copia, all cares about possibly disturbing his neighbours gone. He just needed you.

At the clattering sounds of him appearing, you looked up from the book you were reading and immediately stood to greet him. "Hello, my love. How was your day?"

Copia dismissed your question with a wave of his hand, instead marching towards you with purpose. "No time. Need you."

You didn't have much time to react but the page of the book you were on was forgotten as the item fell to the seat of the chair you were previously situated on, and you prepared yourself to be met with his hands that were already outstretched towards you.

His pace was fast. So fast in fact that when he collided against you, mouth slanting over yours with the slightest clash of teeth, you stumbled back a couple of paces. Luckily, his arms were tightly wound around you in time to steady you and prevent you from falling.

The kiss was messy and desperate, the low whine he let out at the relief of finally touching you telling you everything you needed to know about the state of his day. It obviously hadn't been a good one. But you knew how to solve that.

For Copia, no amount of contact was enough. He was glad that he'd forgone his Cardinal vestments for the day, one less layer between the two of you. One of his hands pushed into the small of your back to draw your body as close as possible to his. The other was on the back of your head to keep your lips firmly pressed against his. On top of that he was leaning forward, almost bending you backwards and making your spine arch in a slightly uncomfortable position, to make sure you didn't leave his embrace for even a second.

His tongue licked hotly and urgently into your mouth and it wasn't long before you could feel him growing hard between you. It didn't take much on days like this. So without breaking away from him, because you knew that would make his day even worse, you slowly started to guide him back towards his bed.

Copia hadn't realised that the two of you were moving, too distracted by the feeling of you, until the backs of his legs hit the wooden frame. He hummed against your mouth in appreciation, you always knew what he needed. Not like it was difficult to tell when he was being like this.

He whimpered when you had to break apart in order to get on the bed, hands not leaving you for a second as you crawled on and collapsed against the pillows and he climbed on top of you. Not a second was wasted as he went back to kissing you, pushing your thighs apart so he could slot himself between them and rest almost the entirety of his body weight on you.

One of his hands roamed you, sliding up underneath the hem of your shirt to gain access to your skin. Even if he couldn't feel it because of his gloves, knowing that the leather was on your bare flesh was enough for him. Your own hands were tangled in his hair, letting the strands run a little looser after being pristine for the day, and pulling him as impossibly closer as you could. You knew he liked it when you showed how you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

It didn't take long before his lustful impulses took over and the friction of your bodies against each other had him pushing his pelvis into yours with a snap of his hips.

"Fuck." He hissed against your mouth, hips rutting forward again. "I'm sorry. I can't- I can't stop, it feels so good."

You slid your hands down to cup his face in your palms, thumbs swiping across his cheeks to calm him down. "Copia, my love, if it feels good then don't stop."

His mouth fell open, a protest dying on his lips when he saw how genuine you were being about the idea, brows scrunching together in pleasure as he let himself rut against you again. After that, all control was lost.

His mouth crashed back over yours, desperate to feel as much of you as possible. He chased the feeling that was steadily building, convinced that he could do this for just a little while longer before he took your clothes off and actually fucked you.

But you knew better.

You could tell he was getting close by the whines he was letting out into your mouth getting higher in both pitch and frequency. His hips were also rutting against you at a much faster rate, almost frantic. Then suddenly he stilled, limbs going rigid and jaw falling open around a long groan of elated satisfaction.

He collapsed on top of you, face buried in the side of your neck and heavy pants tickling your skin. You let your hands slide around to his back, tracing patterns with your finger tips along his clothes.

Copia sighed suddenly, mumbling against your ear. "I'm so sorry. I, eh, I don't know what happened."

"It's okay." You replied, a content smile gracing your lips. He didn't need to apologise, there was nothing you loved more than his happiness. And if that was caused by him coming in his pants just through some dry humping? Then you were all too pleased for him. You let him rest for a couple more minutes, allowing his breathing rate to slow down, before suggesting something that always made him feel better. "Let's go get you cleaned up, hm? Shower?"

The smile in his voice was evident. "Okey dokey."

He slowly pushed himself up, hands running down the lengths of your legs to keep in contact with you as you yourself also sat up. You took his hands in yours as you started to lead him towards his en suite bathroom, letting him wind his arms around your waist and push his face into the side of your neck to keep you close.

When you got to the bathroom, and looked in the mirror, you found that the black paint he applied to his top lip every day was now smeared around your mouth. This was a common occurrence.

You pointed it out to him anyway. "Look, we're matching."

And Copia smiled like he always did. "It suits you."

You rolled your eyes at the same line he always gave you, biting down on your bottom lip to smother the grin it always brought to your face. After switching the shower on, you gave it a minute to warm up as you started to help Copia remove his clothes. He let you do it, a fond smile on his face as he noticed your eyebrows pinch in concentration.

His thighs were sticky from your previous activities and your eyes lit up at the sight. Copia's own eyes practically popped out of his head as he watched you swipe a finger through the mess and then suck it off into your mouth with a pleased hum.

That was all it took for him to start ripping your clothes off and then push you into the shower whilst you giggled at his new found energy.

"Slow down, my love. We have time and you could probably use a minute." You glanced down to where he was hanging soft and pulled him under the hot stream of water with you to start cleaning him off.

Copia's head rested on your shoulder, his hair dripping into his eyes and making his black eye makeup start running, as you lathered him up with soap and got to work gently washing the day's stress away. Once he was spotless you pressed a kiss against his neck to tell him you were done and he stood up straight to look at you.

An adoring smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he cupped your face in a bare palm and ran his thumb over your bottom lip. He kissed you quickly, softly, and then sank down onto his knees. He gazed up at you, mismatched eyes wide and almost vulnerable, black paint cascading from his eyes. You used your thumbs to wipe the mess away before giving him the go ahead with a small nod.

Copia dived in between your thighs, enthusiastically licking at every inch he could reach. His eyes closed in pleasure, moans rumbling through his chest and out of his mouth against you. The fingers of one of your hands threaded through his hair, encouraging him, the other steadying you against the wall to hold yourself up. He was always so keen to please, so desperate to know he was doing well, so that's exactly what you gave him.

"Mhm, just like that." You sighed, meeting his opened eyes. "Good boy."

He whined against you, somehow pushing his face further into you and bumping his nose against your clit. One of his large hands splayed across the plains of your thigh, tips of his fingers pressing into the soft flesh and pushing your leg up to hook your knee over his shoulder. That only gave him better access and a new angle. As much as you wanted to stay composed for him, to keep praising him, the new sensation had a choked cry leaving your mouth and your head dropping backwards in pleasure.

Copia licked and sucked with determination, working towards the goal of getting you to orgasm against his face. He kept a close watch on every reaction you gave, making sure to keep his eyes open now so he didn’t miss a single response you gave to anything he did. Water rained down onto his head, beating against his face and making it harder to see, but he didn’t care. He only cared about making you feel good. Because you always made him feel good. He loved to return the favour.

Your toes curled, thighs clenching around him and drawing him closer against you. Copia knew then that the end goal was arriving soon and this only motivated him further, his rapid motions only picking up further like a man starved. The fingers carded in his hair tightened, tugging on the roots harshly, and Copia groaned loudly, sending vibrations rippling through you. That tipped you over the edge.

A smile spread across his face as you rocked your hips against it, chasing the high that he’d given you. Once it had eased out to a warm glow Copia stood again, wincing as his knees cracked.

“You need to be more careful, my love. Your joints can’t handle positions like those anymore.” You hummed, cupping his face in your hands.

“For you I will bear the pain and get on my knees any day.” He retorted as he leaned in to kiss you.

The proximity alerted you to the fact that he was hard again and you pulled away from him with a startled squeak and looked down to where he was pressing against your stomach.

“Bad days make you like a horny teenager.” You chuckled, not complaining in the slightest.

“No, you make me like a horny teenager.” He countered and kissed you again, tongue lapping into your mouth so you could taste yourself on him.

Steam from the hot shower had clouded the room but neither of you cared as Copia pushed you against the wall and slid into you. You both gasped lowly into each other’s mouths in gratification at the feeling, him lifting one of your legs to give him better access.

He fucked you slowly and lovingly, a strong contrast to the way he’d been rutting against you earlier. But that had been for relief. This was for comfort. He took his time with it, letting the sensation build slowly as to not rush it this time. And you were all too happy to let him have you anyway he wanted you.

Water cascaded between you, causing his body to slip against yours with ease and making it difficult to breathe between kisses. But neither of you cared, not being able to bear being too far away from each other for even a fraction of a second.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your second orgasm, despite the slow pace. And the feeling of you clenching around him meant Copia wasn’t far behind. He stilled as he came inside you, pumping a few more times to make sure he filled you.

After a few more kisses, he slid out of you with a hiss and it was his turn to wash you. He babbled about how much he loved you, a mix of English and Italian and what you thought to be some Latin leaving his mouth in hushed tones. You could only smile back, knowing he knew how much you loved him too.

Once the shower was done, and the steam started to clear, you dried each other off and giggled about meaningless things. You pointed out how much you adored the greys in his hair as you ruffled his head with a towel. He pointed out the bite mark he’d left on your thigh that you hadn’t even noticed he’d given you in the shower as he wiped water droplets off of your skin.

When you returned to the bedroom and started searching for some pyjamas for you to wear, one of his fingers tracing up and down the line of your spine, he informed you that he wanted to sleep naked. To feel you as close to him as possible. You agreed with a simple nod of your head. And when you crawled into bed, you told Copia how much he meant to you. He only blushed and returned the sentiment.

With the lights off, mumbles of affectionate praises, promises of eternal love, and soft kisses were exchanged until the two of you fell into a peaceful sleep wrapped in each other's arms.

A/N: this started out as something meant to be strictly horny and then turned all sweet at the end?? Anyway, hope you enjoyed my first dive into Copia fanfic!

[writingjourney]

Late Night Reading

Your Papa spends his evening reading about Roman cults – perhaps you can tempt him to offer you some of his attention instead.

pairing: Papa Emeritus IV x female!reader || rated: E

content: 3.6k words, (mostly soft) dom!copia, thigh riding, finger sucking, cockwarming, praise, p in v, riding, teasing, orgasm denial, unprotected, coming inside, suggestive use of a history book, 18+ only

Shoutout to @ghelullu for the historical expertise and to @foxybouquet for drawing reading glasses Copia for me that definitely helped inspire this fic!!

Masterlist – Ao3 link

The sheets feel soft against your skin as you stretch out on the bed like a lazy cat. You run your fingers over the fabric, a deep blue cotton that hugs your body as you roll from your belly onto your back. His side still carries his smell and the sigh that leaves you at this discovery is filled with a longing that has the sound vibrating in your throat.

Copia pays you no mind.

For an hour now he’s been sitting comfortably in an armchair, book in his lap and reading glasses perched on his strong nose. He is lost in the story, his eyes moving along the lines rapidly and with visible interest. The glass of red wine he’s been drinking tonight sits abandoned on a table by the side and the vinyl record hasn’t been flipped in quite some time; only the static noise of the record player fills the room.

You rise from the sheets and walk over to the music station on naked feet, slipping the record back into its sleeve to pick another. Copia has a vast collection and you take your time, glancing at him from the corner of your eye in hopes that your half-naked body, clad in just your sleeping shirt, will catch his attention. However, even as you place the needle on the record and soft 80s rock tunes fill the room his eyes stay on the pages of his book.

He looks handsome, you note. The glasses almost slip from his nose with how low he wears them, smudging the white paint where they sit tight by his nostrils. His hair is a bit messier now at the end of the day. A loose strand has fallen over his forehead and tickles his brow, the curve casting a small shadow on his skin under the light of his reading lamp. You fight the urge to brush it back and kiss the spot, lingering by the shelf to assess whether you can finally justify disturbing him.

Copia turns the page. You tiptoe over, hip pushing against the armrest by his side. He must notice you but he gives no indication of it as you trail your fingers over his shoulder, then down his arm. His black shirt stands open at the collar and you get a glimpse of his thick greying chest hair as well as the curve of his firm pectorals underneath the fabric. You want to kiss him there, too.

“Papa,” you try.

“Hm?”

He does not look up, even though the use of his title is enough information as to your intent. With your heart hammering you sink down and kneel beside him, resting your head on his thigh. The fabric of his pants feels rough against your soft cheek. Even so Copia continues to read, his eyes never straying from the page, ignoring your puppy-eyed face right next to the book. You can’t help but pout. Impatient fingers run down his calf, then up to his knee on the other side but your touch lures no reaction from him either.

You move to stand, let your fingers run down his forearm and grasp his wrist, lifting it out of the way so you can place yourself in his lap, once more the image of a needy cat vying for attention. Copia hardly reacts, only lifts the book out of the way while still fixated on the page. You shift until you’re sitting more comfortably, feeling his thighs flex underneath your weight until they press firmly against your ass. You feel his cock too, half-hard beneath the lacings of his pants.

“What are you reading?” you ask this time, nestling against him. Your head rests on his shoulder as you try to get a glimpse of his book.

“It is a book on the Mithraic Mysteries,” he explains, his voice steady and calm. “A very fascinating read. Not much of the Cult of Mithra survived, no written texts anyway.”

“Who is Mithra?” you inquire, only half-focussing on his words now that you finally feel him against you.

“An old Indo-European deity, worshipped by Roman soldiers. Some surviving depictions show him killing a bull, sacrificing the blood and seed to replenish the world and life itself.” His free hand moves to rest on your thigh, the black glove soft on your bare skin. “However, the cultists were persecuted by Christians and ultimately eliminated. Their places of worship, the mithraea, were destroyed.”

“That does sound interesting… and sad,” you conclude, taking in his scent with a deep inhale before you press a kiss to his neck. “Is it more interesting than me?”

“Oh, amore. Of course it is not.” His hand moves further up your leg until it rests on your ass, pushing your shirt up a little higher to squeeze the soft meat there. “Have I not given you enough attention, tonight, my baby?”

You shake your head, pressing your face against his neck as you hug him closer.

“Amore, if you want something you have to ask for it,” he says. “You know this.”

“I did not wish to disturb you. You were so engrossed in your read.”

“And yet here you are, no? Disturbing me.”

You break away to look at him, his face betraying nothing even though you swear you can see the hint of a teasing smile playing at his lips. Encouraged, you reach for his free hand and drag it into your lap, running your thumb over his wrist where his pulse starts to beat a little faster against your fingertip. You lift his hand to your lips, pressing kisses to the tender skin just where his glove ends.

Copia finally reacts, his fingers curling around your cheek and tilting your chin up. His eyebrows are pulled together, giving him a stern expression with the glasses still sitting so low on his nose. You giggle, the image of a teacher who glances at his students in irritation as they interrupt him popping into your head. Perhaps you will be rebuked now.

“Funny, hm?” he asks.

Before you can reply he pushes his index finger into your mouth, gently pressing down on your tongue until you obediently start to suck. The leather is smooth, making your mouth water, and you swirl your tongue around him languidly. Copia holds your gaze as he adds a second finger, his thumb resting on your chin where he wipes away the drool that dribbles from the corner of your mouth. After a moment of indulgence he withdraws them as well as his gaze and uses the wetted digits to turn the page without another word.

His attention is on the book again.

You release a sigh of discontent but he’s ignoring it just like he’s ignoring how you squirm in his lap. You can feel how wet you are between your thighs, your underwear soaked by now.

“Papa,” you whine. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“I need you.”

“You have me, demonietta, now that you wiggled your naughty little butt into my lap.” He glances at you from the corner of his eyes, no doubt taking in your desperate expression and unable to keep up his austerity for much longer. “Va bene. You have permission to use me as long as you do not disturb my reading. If you do, there will be consequences.”

“I won’t. I promise, Papa.”

He nods and his eyes land on the book again, his upper body angled in the direction of the lamp on his side table away from you. You reposition yourself until you can feel his thigh firm against your core, using his chest as leverage. Not a single one of his muscles moves to help you. Once you’re settled you have to readjust his free hand on your hip to make more room, smooth leather once more on your heated skin. As you slowly start to grind on his leg you feel his fingers tightening but he does not look, does not stir.

It feels incredible. The fabric of his jeans is rough against your inner thighs, the friction so needed that you can’t help but close your eyes and moan at the pressure against your clit. You repeat the same movement, slow drags of your hips to the rhythm of the music playing in the background. Hands planted firmly on his chest you feel his muscles against your palm and every time you push yourself back they flex underneath your fingertips.

You’re approaching your release fast after that – more confident movements, the perfect angle to ignite a fire deep inside your belly. The rolls of your hips become sloppy, your knee pushing forward into his crotch as you release a needy whimper, and then suddenly Copia’s fingers dig into your hips, effectively stopping you.

“Ah ah.” He tuts, his eyes snapping in your direction with a frown. “No, no, no, amore. Not like this. What did I fucking tell you, eh?”

A painful sob rips from your throat, your pussy throbbing desperately at the sudden lack of stimulation. “Papa?”

“Do you think I can read when you are dripping all over my leg? When you are moaning into my ear with the voice of a temptress?”

“I’m sorry, Papa. You just feel so good.”

His expression softens, his fingers unclenching. “Gentle now, hm? We are not in a hurry.”

You shake your head, your breathing still fast as you try to recover. “Will you help me, Papa?”

“Help? But you interrupted me,” he says with indignation. “What did I tell you happens when you interrupt me, amore?”

“There will be consequences.”

“Brava ragazza, listening so well to my words. If only you would heed them, hm?” He rubs his hand along your thigh, soothing, comforting. “Now unlace me, demonietta, so I can decide how to proceed with you.”

His cock strains against the fabric and you fiddle with the laces, your fingers still shaky from the almost-peak that he robbed you of. Once you finally loosen them, the pressure does the rest and you can free him easily even with your tremor. He’s achingly hard, dripping precome into your waiting hand. You want to lean down and taste him but you know he is in charge now and it thrills you to comply, to be good for him.

“Take off your underwear,” he orders. “Then you will keep me nice and warm for as long as it takes me to finish this chapter, hm? You want to please your Papa, do you not?”

 “Always,” you say as you slip from his lap, driven by the anticipation of finally feeling him inside of you.

The fabric is drenched as you remove it from your core and throw it aside. Copia’s arms remain open, hips slotted forward to allow you some more room, and you hover above him for a moment. You take his cock into your hand and slide it back and forth between your folds, wetting his tip with your arousal. Copia moans lowly at the contact, the pages of the book fluttering as his body trembles underneath yours with suppressed desire.

“So wet and needy,” he chides. “You want your Papa so bad it makes you forget that he is a very busy man, amore. I only have so much time to do my reading.”

“Perhaps you should read to me in the future, Papa,” you suggest, slowly sinking down on him. The stretch knocks the air right out of your lungs, his girth a welcome intrusion after so much time you spent waiting. A groan slips from his throat once he is fully sheathed, betraying the way he is affected as well.

“Hm, no, dolcezza, if anything you should read to me,” he says through gritted teeth. “So your Papa can rest his weary eyes. I am not so young anymore.”

“You are in your best years, my Papa,” you correct and begin to rock your hips.

Copia’s hand shoots out to grab you, digging roughly into the softness with the strength it takes him to stop you. “Ah ah ah,” he chides with a shake of his head, the glasses now crooked on his nose. “You stay still while I finish this chapter or I will remove you, amore. You know the rules, eh?”

You whimper, clenching around him not just in frustration but in arousal at his tone. With one hand you adjust his reading glasses, the other one rests on the soft curve of his belly underneath his shirt, trying to keep still. Every breath is laborious, every second too long.

“Very good, amore,” Copia praises and then his eyes are back on his book.

His cock pulses inside of you or maybe you are pulsing around him, the need to move so overwhelming you can’t stop the occasional whimper from slipping out, nor can you control the way your hips buck ever so slightly on their own accord. You’re not sure how he can focus, if he focuses at all or tortures you for his own enjoyment. His eyes do move along the lines and you spend a good amount of time studying them, green and white, slightly enlarged by his glasses. No matter how well he plays his part as the stern Papa, the mischievous, loving glint in them never leaves.

You can’t fight the urge to fix his hair, finally combing the loose strand back and massaging his temple. Copia lets out an appreciative hum, pressing his head into your hand. You take the hint and move your fingers along his scalp, gentle pressure to remove the tension of a long day. His hair is soft as you trace the silver streaks that become more and more prominent the longer you two are together.

His hand leaves your hip then to flip the page. You can’t help but squirm, the movement sending a wave of pleasure through your body that makes you keen and clench around him. It’s too much, you are too aware of his cock buried so deep inside of you to keep still. All you want to do is lose yourself in him, to have his undivided attention.

Copia inhales sharply at your fidgeting, in irritation or arousal you cannot tell. His hand reaches for your jaw, tilting it so that your eyes meet his. Instead of anger you find compassion in his gaze, even though there is a hint of complacency as well. “My poor amore,” he says, his tone only partly mocking. “I am not quite done yet. But I think you will have to read the next page for me. My eyes are so tired.”

“But–”

“You are so good for me, dolcezza,” he interrupts, leaning in to nuzzle your nose. “If you do well now your Papa will reward you for your patience.”

Before you can close the gap for a kiss he leans back again and hands you the book, pointing to a line at the top of the page. You try to catch your bearings, especially when you feel his cock twitching inside of you as he shifts to remove his reading glasses. A whimper turns into a croak, your throat suddenly tight and dry.

“In the– the–” You struggle as he once again stirs underneath you, settling comfortably in the armchair with both hands on the armrests. He is enjoying your struggle, a barely concealed grin on his lips. You clear your throat, take a deep breath and relax your muscles. “In the ancient world, the term mysteries was used to refer to secret cults throughout the period from the seventh century BC to the fourth century AD.”

“Very good, amore,” Copia says, voice smooth and sensual. “The next line now, hm? You are doing so well.”

“A-all shared two basic features: the injunction to silence, intended to… intended to prohibit ritual details reaching the outside world, and the…” Suddenly his hips buck, both of his hands settling on your sides to keep you steady as he pushes up into you with one hard thrust. Your eyes flutter closed, the book slipping from your fingers as you hold onto his shoulders.

“Go on,” he orders. “Finish the line. I know you can do it, amore.”

You open your eyes, trying to find the page again and holding the book open with one hand. It takes you a moment to find the right line. You’re trembling and dizzy. “The-the injunction to silence, intended to prohibit ritual details reaching the outside world, and the promise of… the promise of salvation...”

“Mhm, salvation,” he agrees, another thrust that finally has the book falling shut between your bodies and sliding into the gap between his thighs and the armrest. “Everyone wants salvation, ragazza mia, everyone wants release. Do you?”

“Yes, please, Papa.”

Copia grabs the book and sets it aside, feet braced against the floor and hips canted in a way that allows you to fully straddle him. You rest your hands on his chest and stare down at where your bodies join, the sliver of skin and dark body hair between his shirt and waistband glistening wetly with your arousal. Impatient now, you rip at the buttons of his shirt to tear it open, trying to find purchase on his bare skin, anything to feel more of him. His warmth radiates into your palms and then his hands curl around your buttocks as he lifts you just enough to shallowly fuck up into you. You moan, falling forward from the impact until your fronts are squished together.

“Papa,” you whine.

“Hmmmm, sei perfetta, amore mio,” he whispers, lips parted in concentration as he keeps up his pace. “I am proud of you, eh? So patient, waiting all night for your busy old Papa.”

You lean in, stealing his breath as you desperately press your mouth to his. The armchair creaks just as your lips connect and the wet sounds of your hips meeting over and over fill the room, drowning out the soft music. You follow his rhythm instead, pushing down and taking him ever deeper, controlling the angle with which he burrows into you.

“Fuck, Papa,” you whine, the orgasm you lost now building back up fast and violently.

One of Copia’s hands slides up to the back of your head, keeping it down for more wet kisses that smear his face paint all over your chin. His tongue enters your mouth, licking against yours desperately as though he suddenly can’t get enough of your taste. You comply eagerly, carding your hands through his chest hair, leaving trails of red as your nails scrape over his skin. Copia groans at the sensation, a deep sound that vibrates within you and has you clenching around his cock.

“That’s it, amore, ahhh–” He picks up his pace, chasing his own pleasure now just as much as yours. “So fucking good.”

“I’m s-so close,” you whisper.

“Let go for me,” he encourages, bringing his hands between your bodies in search of your clit. “Show your Papa how f-fucking good he makes you feel.”

He finds your sensitive spot, grazing the swollen nub with his gloved finger, and you fall apart in an instant. Your muscles tense, voice high-pitched as you moan and whimper at your release. When your mouth slips from his Copia grabs your chin and forces it back up, urging you to hold his gaze as he continues to fuck up into your clenched cunt. You struggle to hold yourself upright, your whole body turning into jelly as pleasure makes way for exhaustion. With one hand on his throat you trace the line of his Adam’s apple, feel him swallowing hard as he finally follows you and comes inside of you with a groan. His eyes turn glassy, losing their focus, and you finally allow yourself to sink against him, feeling his slightly sweaty chest.

For a long moment neither of you speaks, trying to breathe the air back into your lungs.

“It was okay, amore?” Copia finally asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not too much teasing?”

“It was amazing,” you say, your body still numb and tingly from the exertions. “Maybe we can wait a few minutes, though, before we get cleaned up.”

Copia hums and wraps his arms around you, keeping you pressed closely together. He begins to caress your back, fingers then sliding up to your neck where he massages the tight muscles for a moment but stops when it gets too exhausting to maintain. You sigh into his neck, face hidden underneath the curve of his jaw where you snugly fit against him. After a moment of reprieve you lean back up and look at him – ruined face, his paint smeared into grey streaks that run down his neck and reveal his skin. You press a kiss to the small scar on his jaw, then to the dip where it transitions into his plump lips, the corner of his mouth next.

“I’m sorry I interrupted your reading,” you mumble, breathing more kisses to his exposed face to give him the gentleness he always craves after being intimate like that. It’s a ritual by now, comfort and affection that make up for all the teasing.

“Ah, I was just waiting for you to come over,” he admits, returning the favour by pressing his lips to your cheek. “The book is interesting… but not that interesting, eh?”

“I will worship you, my Papa,” you whisper with a smile. “I call it the Cult of Copia.”

He chuckles, tightening his arms around you again to pull you flush against him. “Watch out, amore, I think I could get used to that.”

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡ The quotes I used in here are from this book, sorry for the blasphemous use of an actual academic book haha.

Masterlist – my Ao3 – Join my tag list

[turbodrawn]

Slowburn Copia/Reader Fic Update

Chapter 3: Joyride is out now. Time for some bad decisions on a tricycle.

Overall Fic Description: You meet an endearingly awkward but oddly charming Cardinal in your first few months at the Ministry and find both you and him have taken a great fondness for each other. You and he, as you grow closer and inevitably grow to become more than friends, work through the ups and downs of the process of him becoming Papa and what entails following it.