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her-satanic-wiles · 1 year ago

Text

Masterlist ⛧ Hellish Delights Masterlist

Words: 8k.

Warnings: Copia’s a piece of shit, rape, non-con elements but more dubcon, mentions of rape, use of the word rape, violent sex, rough sex, dubcon, cnc, filmed having sex (unknowingly), filmed having sex (knowingly), piv, vaginal sex, rough vaginal sex, blood kink, pain kink, rape fantasy, masturbation, semi-public sex, semi-public masturbation, dirty talk, Copia is a creepy old man, rape recreation, spit as lube, fear kink, fear play?, degradation, misogyny, references to free use, reference to bondage, somnophilia, dacrophilia, vaginal fingering, rough fingering, exhibitionism, caught masturbating (close call), groping, coercion; slut shaming, nipple play, fingering, hair pulling, breeding kink, victim blaming, naked woman clothed man, under-negotiated to non-negotiated kinks, possessive, marking kink, use of safeword (sort of), praise, objectification, poor mental health, detailed trauma, aftercare

Author's note: Hey, all! I promise I will get on Divine Desires soon, but this just kept itching away at my brain, and whoooo Nelly, was it difficult to ignore. But here we are now! Please heed the trigger warnings!

The Ghouls aren't demons in my fic. They're humans who work in the Ministry, but they're a different class of profession, somewhere between personal assistants and body guards, depending on the importance of Papa's task.

This is a work of fiction based in the extreme horror category and should be treated as such. I do not condone the actions the characters make, nor am I actively encouraging others to participate in such actions in everyday life. It also does not reflect the personalities of the performers who play these characters.

The purpose of this fic is to shock, scare, entertain, and make readers entirely uncomfortable. If you are not in a headspace where you can safely read and enjoy this story, or even if the trigger warnings make you uncomfortable, I highly recommend and encourage you not to read this. Your mental health is more important than a work of fiction.

If you are struggling to come to terms with past trauma, please talk to someone and seek professional help.

You deserve to feel safe, loved, and cared for. Thank you.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this is dark fiction, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.

Phantom didn’t need to be unmasked for Papa Copia to know something was wrong. The ghoul barely made out two words before Copia stood and grabbed his candles. The frantic explanation was given as Copia whipped around his room, trying to find the correct materials. On such short notice, certain members of the clergy wouldn’t be available to help. So Copia would just have to make do with what he had. Or rather who he had. Phantom had told him the situation at hand, but none of Phantom’s words were able to prepare him for what he was going to see.

He could hear your moans - no, screams- echoing down the corridor from the other end - the loud pleasure in your voice bouncing off the walls and ringing in his ears atop the sounds of the ten or so pairs of feet clambering down the hall to reach you quickly.

“Will you cum on his cock?” It was Swiss’ voice that sounded above all else, dual-toned and demonic. He was well and truly lost to the possession now. “Will you cum on the cock that rapes you?” Rape. Satan only knew how long you’d been subjected to demonic torture. Yes, your voice was oozing with pleasure, but he could still hear the pain sneaking through it. He could taste your fear on his tongue. You’d consented in the end, as it sounded, but how much of that was genuine want versus the deluded, terrified mind clouded in order to protect its host from life-altering trauma.

“Yes!” You screamed looking back up into his eyes. “I’m gonna c-cum! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna-!”

Copia swung the door open right as your orgasm hit, your mind clouding over and drool dripping from your mouth as you came all over Swiss’ cock. His eyes locked with yours and he had the unfortunate pleasure of watching the light fade, and your body go limp, bouncing with the rough force of Swiss’ hips as he continued to use you for his own gratification.

“You’re just in time, child.” The demon said, thrusts growing erratic. “Witness the gift of the Olde One.”

“He doesn’t advocate for such torment - especially on those undeserving.” Copia remarked as his clergymen took their positions in the room. The demon knew it was outmatched, and thus continued his assault on your body.

“Perhaps. But he advocates for rewards for his finest soldiers.”

“Ah, Asmodeus.”

“In the flesh, child.”

“Not for much longer.”

As the clergy began their chant, and the exorcism truly began, the demon Asmodeus made his final thrusts before releasing his spend into your unconscious body. Two of the Ministry’s ghouls, gargoyles more like, came forth to apprehend Swiss’ body and pull him away from you. Your hips fell onto the floor, ricocheting off the wood. Both Copia’s and Swiss’ eyes were trained on your severely abused core, the white flowing from you and dripping onto the ground, turning the faintest shade of pink as it mixed with the blood Swiss’ cock had forced out of you as he broke you. Copia could feel Asmodeus’ ferocity, his power surging at the sight of you, battered and bruised on the ground, leaking his cum. Given the surge of power coming from him, Asmodeus’ lust had mixed with Swiss’, both of them now fighting to bury themselves deep inside you again and have you once more to quench their lustful thirst.

Copia felt guilt wash over his body as it merged with an ocean of arousal. At the sight of Swiss’ cum spilling from you, his cock began to stir awake, wanting nothing more than to just get on his knees and take you as Asmodeus did. But he was your Papa, he could never bring himself to betray you, like that. If he was buried deep inside you, it would be with you as a willing participant, screaming beneath him, sure, but because he was taking you to paradise.

He shook himself out of the gross thoughts he was experiencing, and joined in to chant with his brethren. When he looked at Asmodeus finally, the demon shot Copia a knowing look before he was banished back to Hell, and Swiss’ unconscious body flopped exhaustedly to the floor. That look he received, told him that the demon saw right through him down to his very tainted soul. And though he knew the clergymen couldn’t read his mind like Asmodeus could, he still feared that someone could tell what he was thinking.

“Phantom,” Copia began, his voice shaky and weak until he cleared his throat, “we must take them all to the infirmary. Please go down and get as much help as you need. Wheelchairs should suffice.”

“Yes, Papa!”

Phantom, eager to save his closest friends turned on his heels and began his journey to the infirmary. Copia looked around the room, his eyes lingering as subtly as they could on each of the clergy’s lower regions, hoping he could find solidarity in such a fucked up situation. He couldn’t - which only added to his guilt.

He waited until everyone was settled on their chairs before he spoke again, giving specific instructions to each of the nurses who had come to assist with the tragedy, then addressing the clergy. “We must keep Swiss and the Sister separated,” he told everyone, “she has been through enough tonight without seeing his face again so soon.”

“What punishment for him, Papa?” a cardinal asked.

Copia sighed. “He was possessed - he would never do this in his right mind. I am… hesitant to sentence him. I’ll leave that up to the Sister’s good graces when she is strong enough to make those decisions. In the meantime, keep them separated.”

Copia followed you all the way down to the infirmary and stayed with you as you were getting immediate treatment. The bruises on your jaw were beginning to show, and your body was incredibly battered and red from the attack. But even so, even as he watched them mend you and put your broken pieces back together, his mind kept showing him your face - the expression twisted on it as you came around Swiss’ cock. The way you sounded still ringing in his ears - the sight of his seed dripping out of you.

He politely excused himself after making sure that you’d be okay and trotted back to his office, slamming the door shut behind him. By now, his erection was full of blood and aching to the touch against the confines of his jeans. His hands fumbled against his robes in desperation, throwing the garment over his head and onto the floor and leaning against the doorway as he pushed his jeans down far enough to expose himself. The cool, crisp autumn air making his balls tighten and his nipples erect beneath his shirt. His hand, still hidden beneath his leather glove, received a healthy glob of spit before he wrapped it around the head and began to stroke, spreading his saliva around and lubricating the slide.

He groaned at the sensation, his back fully pressed against the wood of his door. The slide was impeccable, but nothing compared to how you’d feel. Swiss wasn’t a small man by any capacity, and so Copia swallowed some guilt forming as he let his mind wander. Did he ruin your cunt? The amount of time he was inside you was so great, did he form a space just for him? Or were you still as tight as Copia wanted you to be? He imagined you’d still be nice and tight for him, though, he couldn’t help the way his cock twitched at the thought of him invading a space carved out by another man.

Copia always made it abundantly clear he wasn’t like other men, and sometimes that was to his detriment. For you, especially, he wanted you to feel safe around him, loved by him. He didn’t want you to be uncomfortable in any capacity because he prided himself on being one of the “good guys”, that he’d never betray you in the same way the other men did. He worshipped women, he’d never be misogynistic to one. He was a stand-up, tolerant man. Yet there he was, walking slowly towards his desk and positioning himself against it, rubbing his erection so hard and fast, his arm was beginning to ache in discomfort with the image of you being roughly taken by one of his hardest-working ghouls. And he couldn’t help imagine what it would feel like to have been in Swiss’ - no, Azmodeus’ position - how tightly you’d cling onto him as he used you for his own pleasure; how your delicious cries would travel all the way down to his erection and have you weeping below him. He wondered how deliciously you’d sound begging for him to stop, pleading with him to show you mercy as he took what he wanted and gave not a single fuck for your wants, desires, or even personal pleasure.

His eyes shut tight as he savoured the sensations he experienced when he swung the door open, the painful pleasure painted on your face as you came for Lucifer knows how many times. How you passed out and your body went limp from exhaustion, yet bounced at the violence of Swiss’ thrusts. How his mouth went dry when he saw your red and swollen pussy eject Swiss’ seed, and pool amongst your blood on the floor. And with that final sight, his own orgasm reached him - his cum spurted across his desk and gathered on the wood, sending flashbacks to Swiss’ cum gathering the same way beneath you. He grunted animalistically, mouth hanging open as his body tingled from the force of his orgasm, toes curling in his boots and hand slowly coming to a halt, yet still wrapped tightly around his cock.

This was when the guilt was beginning to set in. Though you may have consented towards the end - you weren’t in your right mind. Copia had no idea just how long you’d been the subject of Azmodeus’ torment - or rather, torture - and thus knew that whatever happened to you earlier was not done with your willingness and permission. Yet there he was, eyes fixated on his cum as though it had tumbled from your delectable core, with disgust filling him from bottom to top as he realised just how gross he’d been. If you found out about this - you’d never trust him again. The Satanic Church didn’t welcome things like this in the same way Catholocism did. Granted they pretended they didn’t, but no actions were taken against the perpetrators of such crimes. And he was Papa. He was supposed to keep you safe. He’d failed you then, and as he wiped his spend from the mahogany, he realised he’d failed you now.

Life passed without incident until a few days later, when it had been brought to his attention by one of the guitar techs that Swiss kept disappearing from his duties and no one knew where he went for hours at a time. Copia knew. He didn’t want to believe it, but he had his suspicions. Immediately, he went into his office and switched on the computer, clicking away at menus and windows until he found what he was looking for: the security camera footage. He clicked on the first video in date chronological order and sat there, studying each frame. At first, nothing happened: it was just Swiss sitting at the foot of your bed, and by the looks of his shoulders - he was sobbing. He saw you two engaging in conversation - how your eyes widened in apparent fear as you registered who was there with you. He couldn’t help the stirrings of excitement at the sight of you visibly recoiling from Swiss’ presence, and then later from his comforting touch. Then, it all happened so fast.

One moment you were having a conversation, you nodded at him and then Copia watched as Swiss climbed on top of you. He was like an animal - a desperate, hungry animal that needed to be sated immediately or he’d die of whatever ailment was afflicting him. Swiss pawed at your bedsheets and hospital gown as he exposed your heavily bruised body to the elements, and spreading your legs wide enough to fit himself in between them. Swiss immediately pushed into you, and you winced as though you felt the same searing pain you felt the first time he did. But after a few uncomfortable thrusts, the pleasure returned once more, and your hands, now finally responding, flew to his shoulders and grasped on, digging your nails into his skin.

Copia’s cock was standing to attention at the sight of Swiss taking you again, and you accepting him willingly. And this time, he knew it was willing - your head nod was enough for him to know that you wanted Swiss inside you again - you wanted to feel that fucking cock take you for a second time. Copia was all but foaming at the mouth, fumbling with his robes once again and freeing his achingly hard cock. He barely even had the wherewithal to spit on it, so desperate to time his hands with Swiss’ hips, he was more than willing to start rubbing himself dry. Any pain he felt could be retribution for his perverted actions.

He cursed - partly at the feel of his cock being abused by his own hand, but also in frustration at the stupid, shitty fucking cameras they put everywhere had no fucking sound! Sweet Satan, he’d give his left nut to hear what Swiss was saying to you, and he’d give his right one to hear your response. He couldn’t even see Swiss’ lips to lip read anything, so instead he let his mind to the work.

He imagined Swiss telling you how much of a whore you were for him, letting him fuck you in an infirmary where anyone could walk in. He imagined Swiss reminding you of what he did to you the day before, and how he would do it again and again if he could. Lucifer knows Copia would. Copia would keep you bound and gagged and spread wide open for him to use as and when he saw fit. Copia would take your tight little cunt for hours at a time, and offer you no reprieve until he had his fill. What if Swiss was telling you that he wanted to do that very thing to you? Would Swiss let Copia have a turn on you? Would Swiss watch? Before Copia had chance to cum, Swiss had already done so, and was climbing off you. Copia loosened the grip on his dick but still continued to watch as Swiss walked away.

The next video was dated to the very next day, and began with Swiss entering your room while you were asleep. His hand reached up your legs and dipped below the comforter. That fucking scrap of fabric was obstructing his view, but Copia understood exactly what was going on, especially when your hips started bucking in response. He was fondling your body as he played with your clit, biting his lip and molesting you as you slept. Your body clearly wanted it, though, given how willingly your legs parted and your hips chased the pleasure. When your eyes fluttered open, so achingly innocent Copia wanted to bite you, again there was a flash of fear behind your eyes before you became soothed at Swiss’ face. He was smiling, a devilish grin that would no doubt make even Copia quake in his boots, but you, still sporting bandages and unable to make full expressions, were staring at him, daring him to take it further. You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t, but instead you pointed up at the camera, and for a brief moment, Copia felt his heart fall out of his ass as both you and Swiss were looking directly at him. Neither of you knew Copia was there, of course. At that time, no one was. But it didn’t stop Copia from feeling like he’d just been caught by you both with his cock in his hand and said hand rubbing it vigorously, like a horny teenager who’d peered into the girl’s locker rooms.

Swiss took the comforter and pulled it off your body, folding it haphazardly over the foot of the bed and exposing your pretty, little cunt to the room. Given the camera was positioned to your right and in the corner of the room, he couldn’t see everything he wanted to see, but he got a glimpse of your labia parting as Swiss’ fat fingers spread them to access your cunt. His fingers entered you, and wasted no time stretching you open for him. Copia watched your body jiggle helplessly beneath the wrath of his hands, and how little Swiss cared for your hands grappling onto him and holding on for dear life. Copia’s hand once again matched Swiss’ tempo, and found himself coming to the edge far quicker than he wanted, but he just couldn’t stop himself.

Ashamedly, Copia came before he could even finish the second video. Your face was contorted in absolute agony as Swiss pushed into you and fucked you hard without giving you a moment’s rest to recover and get used to his size. Copia’s cum landed on his screen, splattering all over your pixelated face as a fucked up cum tribute. Copia wondered how your face would look covered in his cum in real life, and that almost got his cock standing on edge again. The guilt settled in soon after, but not as much as it did the first time he came to you. This time because your consent was all over these encounters. You let Swiss fuck you now, legs spread for him willingly and screams no doubt wanton for his cock. You let him maneuver your body in ways benefiting the security camera. You nodded, and cursed, and screamed out your consent as Swiss played with you. His only guilt now was that you didn’t know he was watching you.

Yet, he downloaded each and every single one of those videos (there were seven in total, one of each day of your time in the infirmary), and each one a varying degree of fucked up with you in a varying state of healed. In one of those videos, Swiss had just decided to stick his dick inside you as you slept, and you had no idea he was even there until he’d been gone thirty minutes and you felt his cum oozing out of you. Copia watched you use Swiss’ cum as lube and masturbate for hours, cumming four times just with your fingers and glistening with both his release and your own. If he wasn’t such an old man, he’d have joined you in your multiple orgasms. Alas, though his cock was very much interested, his body would have no more of it today.

A day didn’t go by where he’d load up one of the security camera videos and jerk off in his office. By the end of the two weeks you’d been out of the infirmary, and when you’d recovered enough to return to your duties, he’d replayed each of the videos several times. It was like he was addicted, choosing only those videos. When he’d decided to quit them, for fear that his actions and attitudes would change towards you, he’d become unbearably miserable and frustrated with everyone and everything. Everyone noticed the difference, and even gave him a wide berth, just in case he snapped or shouted, something he never used to do. It got to the point where those videos became a necessity, and he hated himself for it. He would continue to hate himself twice a day or a week further before the inevitable happened.

All that time spent with his hand on his cock in his office meant that one day, a knock would come mid-stroke, and he’d be forced to conduct a meeting with a raging boner. It happened, and as he scrambled to close the video and cover his modesty, you walked through the door. Satan, he wanted to pounce on you. Despite all you’d been through the previous month, your demeanour had barely changed. In order to appear respectful to your superiors, you still crept through the door with wide, innocent eyes, body closing in on itself in shyness and submission. Before, he thought this was endearing - telling of your sweet personality. Now, it made him want to rip your clothes off you, bury himself inside you, and take you until you were screaming his name, and shaking beneath him. His cock twitched when you made eye contact with him, and spoke in a soft voice, “You wanted to see me, Papa?”

He did? Fuck - he did! How could he forget he sent one of his ghouls to find you this morning? He needed to know what to do about Swiss - although, the CCTV footage of your infirmary room told him all he needed to know. You didn’t know that he knew, and so he had to at least keep up appearances. “Yes, tesoro.” He gestured to the sofa in front of his desk. “Please, sit.” You sat so prettily on his sofa, making sure your habit was draped in such a way that preserved any modesty you may have had. It all seemed like a viscous facade now. He knew who you truly were when you were naked and vulnerable. “How is your recovery?”

There was still a faint bruise on your jaw from the assault, but otherwise it looked like you were almost completely healed. You confirmed as much in your response, finalising it with a sincere, “thank you.” Those two syllables felt like punches to his gut. ‘Thank you, Papa, for caring about me, and worrying about me. I appreciate you.’ Meanwhile, he used one of the most traumatic experiences of your life as his masturbation material and betrayed your trust twice daily.

“Are you starting therapy now?”

You nodded. “I’ve only had two sessions so far, but she’s already helping me work through things.”

Copia nodded. “That is excellent news, tesoro. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Thank you, Papa. And, I wanted to say thank you for saving me back then. I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to tell you, but I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t have come when you did.”

He swallowed, the guilt eating him alive as his mind showed him your face as it came around Swiss’ cock - the first time he’d seen it. His posture changed, allowing his right hand to naturally rest on his thigh, before travelling true north and beginning to rub over his clothed bulge as subtly as he could manage. “Please, do not thank me. I only have your safety and wellbeing at heart.” Fucking liar. “Anyone would have done the same.”

“Even still, thank you.”

“It is actually why I wanted to see you today. I wanted you to be strong enough to have this conversation with me. Swiss committed a vile sin, even one Sathanas cannot support. As you know, He is all for depravity but only when all are happy with said depravity. He needs to be punished - let the punishment fit the crime. I wanted you to decide the punishment, as you were the victim in all of this. How do you think we should punish him, tesoro? No limits, what you say goes.”

As expected, the look on your face was made up of stunned silence. Your eyes widened in fear. You didn’t want Swiss to be punished. You’d already forgiven him. The look on your face had his hand applying pressure to his cock. Fuck, you had no right looking this sinful. “I don’t want him to be punished, Papa.” You said quietly.

“But, tesoro… he-”

“I know. But he didn’t, did he? He was possessed. And you sent the demon back to Hell, right? I think that’s punishment enough. Let our Dark Lord punish the demon for his crimes and have him suffer for eternity in the pits of Hell.”

“Well, no punishment will be given to Swiss, if that’s what you ask. I must say, this is highly irregular. A testament to your kindness, I suppose. How do you feel about Swiss?” He was skirting dangerous territory now, but he couldn’t help himself. He wondered if he could use your trust in himself against you, and have you admit to sleeping with Swiss. Copia didn’t know what he’d do if he heard those words fall from your mouth, but he poked and prodded nonetheless. “Would you be comfortable being around him again?”

“I believe so, yes.”

Copia raised his brows in fake surprise. “You truly are incredible, tesoro. After everything? I’m in awe of you. I’m surprised to hear that. Perhaps we can start with - eh - supervised socialising until you’re used to seeing him again.”

You nodded in response, eyes to the ground and refusing to make eye contact. You were shifty. You were withholding the truth. You were obvious about it.

“Tesoro?” He asked, allowing his voice to be just a fraction sterner than usual. “Is something wrong?”

“No, Papa.”

“Then why aren’t you looking at me?” There was silence for a moment. “You’ve already seen him, haven’t you?”

You nodded.

Copia deliberately sighed. “Well, you are a grown adult, tesoro. I cannot stop you from seeing anyone you do not wish to. But you should know I disapprove. He could still have been dangerous to you. I couldn’t bear it if he hurt you again.” There was silence again. “What are you not telling me, Sister?”

“I- Please don’t be disappointed in me, Papa.”

“I could never be disappointed in you. Please, tell your Papa what’s troubling you.”

The flood gates opened. You were desperate to share the information with someone. Clearly, you’d not been doing so with your therapist. You confessed to everything, how Swiss came to you when you first woke up, how he’d fucked you every day since. Not that you used such explicit words. He’d taken advantage of your nervousness and lack of eye contact, and had gotten more and more brazen with the movement of his hand over his cock, openly masturbating now beneath his desk. He didn’t expect you to look up - he didn’t think you would. But as you were talking, you glanced at him every now and again, so quickly he missed every one. Until your talking had slowed and a soft, “Papa?” Fell from your lips. Your eyes were now fixated on his hand, a hint of betrayal glistening in them. Copia didn’t stop now - he couldn’t. The look on your face had travelled straight to his cock, and now he was going to take this opportunity to take you. “You already knew that I’d seen Swiss, didn’t you?”

“Sì.”

You swallowed. “H-how?” By this point you’d stood from the sofa.

“I think you know.”

“You saw…?”

“Every one.”

You turned your back to him, hand over your mouth and tears of humiliation threatening to spill. The second you saw the camera, you should have refused Swiss. But the thrill was too much and you couldn’t say no. You also couldn’t lie and say you felt completely and utterly betrayed by your Papa - because while you were, and had every right to be, you also felt heat pooling between your legs at the thought of Copia watching every single time Swiss was inside you.

You didn’t hear Copia stand or approach you. You only knew he was there when you felt him press up against you, hands snaking round your waist and pulling you towards him. Any piece of you that he could get his hands on, he did so: gripping your thighs, stomach, breasts. His chin rested on your shoulder, lips mere centimetres from your ear as he spoke. “Perhaps there are other ways to work through your thoughts, hm? Do you want that? You know, for all I saw, I didn’t hear much of anything. That first night in the infirmary, what did he say to you, tesoro? What did he say that made you part your legs so willingly, so soon?”

“H-he…” You felt Copia remove your veil, pulling it to the floor and exposing your hair.

“Go on?” He urged as his hands began to unbutton your habit. They were moving sinfully slow, almost painfully so. It was as if he were dragging this out on purpose just to spite you, or drive you insane. Perhaps both were true.

“He told me that he was sorry.” Copia had dipped his hands beneath the shoulders of your outfit and dragged it down your body to pool at your feet, his lips immediately attaching themselves to your near-naked shoulder. If it wasn’t for that infernal bra strap, he’d have you completely bare for him. “He told me that he felt bad for what he did.”

“And that’s all you need, Sister? An apology has you spreading your legs for any man who offers one?”

“No! He-” You bit your lip, now feeling his hands unclasp your bra, one hook at a time. “He told me that he felt guilty for finding it so hot. But that he…” Your bra fell to the floor and you swallowed.

“Keep going.”

“He couldn’t stop touching himself to the thought of it.”

Copia groaned behind you, his teeth grazing your delicate skin. His gloved hands moved up to your nipples and began to pull and play with them, rolling them through his index finger and thumb. His hard cock rubbed gently against your clothed ass, showing you just how desperate he’d become.

“He’s a talker, isn’t he?”

You nodded.

“Tell me, tesoro. What else did that filthy mouth of his tell you? What got you so riled up for you to let him fuck you in your hospital bed?”

One of his hands released your nipple and gently traced the curves of your stomach all the way down to your panties. His fingers dipped beneath the waistband, and immediately went in search of your clit. He needed no map to find it, it as as if he already knew your body and how it worked - perhaps it was all the videos he watched of his ghoul doing the exact same thing to you. He worked your clit in gentle circles to begin with, fully content on just teasing you until he got the information he wanted out of you. You released a soft moan in response, reaching your left arm behind you to grip onto his greying hair. Your right hand clutched at his wrist, and held on tightly as he continued his assault - an assault you welcomed with open arms.

“Papa!” You whispered. “I can’t.”

He tutted. “She’s getting bashful on me now, no? Seems a bit late for false modesty when I watched your cunt get spread on a camera. You can and you will. What did he say to you?”

Though his voice never raised, it did become more stern. It didn’t feel as though he’d take no for an answer. Just like Asmodeus, he would use you with or without your willingness being present. Unlike with Asmodeus, you knew Copia would stop if you really asked him to. He could be an asshole sometimes, but he wasn’t a monster. You didn’t want to tell him no. That night unlocked something in you that at first you’d only thought about doing again with Swiss, but now with Papa willing to give you what you wanted, it turned out you wanted this again, over and over until you were some kind of brainless toy.

Copia pinched your clit between his fingers when you were taking too long. “I won’t ask again, Sorella.”

“Fuck!” You screamed. It was painful, of course it was, but your scream was oozing with pleasure, just like it was when Copia had walked in on Asmodeus taking you. “He loved how wet I got! He - fuck, Papa! - He loved me c-creaming on his cock. He loved hearing me cry out for him, and begging for him to-”

“To what?” Copia’s finger now rubbed in circles, faster and with a lot more pressure. “Say it!”

You were talking much faster than before, the words spilling from your mouth before you could even process them. “He want to hear me beg him to fuck me over and over. Wanted to turn me into his toy. Get me pregnant. Papa, please!”

He bit your ear softly. “Did you enjoy it, tesoro? That night with the demon? Did you love it?”

“Mmmmm fuck! Not at first! He - shit - hurt me. But then it - it felt good towards the end.”

“How many times did you cum?”

“I d-don’t remember. Maybe twice?”

Copia groaned again. “Puttana.”

Your hips were bucking wildly, chasing a high that Copia was right on the precipise of giving you. You were so close. You needed it. “I’m gonna cum! Papa! Papa!”

“Cum all over your Papa’s fingers like a common fucking whore, that’s it!”

The dam broke and the floodwaters emerged, your orgasm hitting you like a ten-tonne truck and tensing your body from head to toe. Those very toes were now curling into the rug, your fingers tightening in his hair causing him to let out his own screams. You had no idea what your body was doing, and the fact that you were yelling throughout the entirety of your orgasm, howling like a banshee as tears fell from your eyes at the intensity of it all.

“On your back on the floor.” Copia instructed.

You did as you were told, lying your bare back against the plush of the rug. Copia’s face crumpled at the sight, though. He wanted you on the wood. So, he nudged you with his shoe to get your attention, shook his head and pointed to where he wanted you. You obliged, and spread your legs as soon as the cold shock had dissipated from your body.

“You get off on this, don’t you?” He said, removing his robes and reaching for his zipper. “On being used and manhandled against your will.”

You nodded.

“Is that why you let Swiss use you every fucking day, eh? Are you trying to relive it?”

You hesitated for a moment too long, and Copia took that as confirmation. He chuckled darkly, unzipping his jeans and removing his cock from its confines, finally letting it breathe after you almost catching him at the beginning. “Do you know what, tesoro?” He began to position himself above you, lining up with your sopping heat and rubbing himself against your clit. Your fingernails dug into the floor at the oversensitivity that had now begun to set in, your heart racing with anticipation. He pulled your hips closer to him, having you partly resting on his thighs, immaturely laughing a little at the sound your body made as it was dragged against the floor. “I got off on it too.”

He delighted in the way your eyes lit up with so many emotions, before finally allowing your face to contort with the pleasure of him pushing his cock inside you. There was lust in your eye, of course, remembering how you made eye contact with Papa as you reached your second orgasm that night. You remembered the last thoughts that raced around your head before you blacked out. Now that you’re thinking about it, you remembered seeing a primal look in Copia’s eyes underneath his concern, and the thought made you tighten around Copia’s cock that had begun slamming into you, after deeming you ready enough.

“Swiss was feral for you afterwards,” he told you, eyes fixated on your cunt as it squeezed him, “we had to restrain him with multiple gargoyles because he was going to go back in for a second turn.”

“Fuck, Papa!”

“And now I see why - cazzo!” A string of Italian fell from his lips that you couldn’t quite understand. But it didn’t matter, the thought of Swiss fighting against the Ministry’s protectors in order to get inside you a second time had set your body alight - the primal need to satiate his hunger now ingrained in your mind for the rest of time. You allowed loud moans to fall from your lips as the angle Copia fucked you at had his cock hitting your g-spot each time. “His - his cum… and your blood - fuck! - I wanted to taste it then see how my cum would look mingling with both of you. If I wasn’t surrounded by the clergy, I might have had my fill there and then too.”

You bit your lip and gripped onto his strong arms, those arms and hands grasping onto your hips for leverage as he roughly fucked into you, getting deeper and deeper to now have his tip hit your cervix and his shaft rub constantly against that sweet spot. You were losing your mind, mewling out for Papa as he took you on his office floor. “You sh-should have anyway!” You mumbled through your moans.

Copia’s eyebrows raised. “Yeah? You wanted me to fuck you in the ritual room with the clergy watching? Fucking Jezebel. You always seemed so sweet, Sister. Who knew you were so filthy? Is that why you agreed to the ritual in the first place, tesoro? You like it when people watch?”

“Yes!”

At this revelation, Copia began to thrust harder. This wasn’t usually a turn on for him - in fact, he’d never really thought much about it before - but the idea that you would get off on it had him harder than he ever had been in his life. He wondered how far it would go - if you imagined the other members of the clergy joining in in some capacity. How many of them could you have taken before it became too much? How many before you woke up? What about when you were awake? How would you react knowing that all the clergy members were touching themselves in a circle around you as Copia railed you for a ritual? Would you willingly open your mouth for them? Would you let them cum on you? Had you done this before? Was this a revelation that was new to you after Asmodeus? Copia’s mind was racing with questions and possibilities.

His mind snapped out of its musings to watch you beneath him, taking his cock to the hilt and loving every second of it. It felt so good, your mouth was hanging open and drool was slipping from the corners. Your eyes rolled back, eyebrows furrowed and sweat glistening over your body. You were so wet, creaming on Copia’s dick and he watched the strings of your juices pull and snap with his movements. With every passing second, every thrust, he understood why Swiss couldn’t get enough of you, why Asmodeus fought tooth and claw to get inside you again. Copia would be inside you every single day if you let him. He wanted to watch you bounce off his cock every day, watch your body jiggle at the force of his thrusts, how your tits jerked while his cock ravaged your insides. The way your ass ricocheted off the ground each time he moved had him damn near feral for you. You resorted him down to his animalistic instincts, his primal urges. He just wanted to bite you as he fucked you, mark you, claim you, show the world that you were his.

He wondered how Swiss would react to finding marks on you that didn’t belong to him. He imagined Swiss getting angry - he shouldn’t but he did. Fucking you within an inch of your life, bruising your body in multiple ways while he was deep inside you, reminding you that you belonged to him. Sathanas, he wished he could strip you bare and uncover Swiss’ artwork on you, and add more of his own. It was fucked up but he needed it and so, without much thought, he lifted your leg, bent himself over you and bit wherever he could reach, painfully biting and sucking hickeys onto your body. You screamed with the onslaught, your own fingernails and hands digging into his flesh and leaving marks of your own. But, after the third bite, you let go with one hand and began to furiously rub at your clit, relishing the pain and fucking yourself to a second orgasm, and shaking with the force of it. You tightened impossibly around Copia’s cock, forcing him to rest while you finished yourself off. But Copia wasn’t done with you. Not even the slightest bit. “On your stomach, tesoro.”

Your eyes widened a little, a small inch of panic setting in. “What?”

“Stomach. Now.”

“Copia…”

The use of his name hit him like a punch to the gut. “What’s wrong?” He said, his voice dripping with concern, not an ounce of lust in his eyes anymore. He noticed. He was taking it seriously.

“Please not my stomach.” He wasn’t there for the first half of your torment - he didn’t see what Asmodeus did to you. You wanted to explain why, but you couldn’t find the words. But Copia seemed to understand immediately.

He nodded, “Of course, tesoro. D-do you want to stop?” He asked the question almost like an afterthought, but it came to him nonetheless.

“No. Please.”

“Please what?”

“I-”

“We can go as dark or as soft as you like, amore. Please what? Tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

“Take what you need. Use me, Papa. Please.” You said, your voice tapering off to a desperate whimper.

Copia groaned, a visceral, gutteral sound. “Spawn of Satan, begging me to use her like a fucking toy, eh? As you wish, tesoro. Take my fucking cock. It’s what you were made for, right?” He dropped your hips dramatically, kind of showing you now that he had no interest in making you feel good now. It was all about him from this point onwards, and you were going to know about it. He positioned himself above you, completely trapping you beneath him now, and began to slam into you so hard, your body moved across the floor each time. Grunts and groans were ripped from your throat involuntarily, spilling your truth into his ears whether you liked it or not - the helpless feeling had you wrapping around him like a vice, and refusing to loosen the grip.

“Gonna fuck this cunt every day.” He continued, muttering mostly to himself. “Might keep you in my chambers, spread out and ready for me to use at any point.” You tightened. “Or better yet, keep you naked and tied to my desk so I can use this hole when I’m stressed. You want that, hm?”

“Yes, Papa!”

“Tell me.”

“I want t-to be your toy! I want you to use me every day. I want your cock inside me every day. Please, Papa!”

“Such a good slut for me. Swiss trained this cunt well, didn’t he?”

“Yes! Made me ready to please my Papa whenever he wants me. Trained me to take all of Papa’s cum and not spill a drop.”

“Filthy whore. Take my fucking cum. T-take it all. Merda! Cum- cumming!”

Copia’s groan filled the room much louder than any of your moans ever did, drowning out the sound of his hips slapping against your wetness over and over again. His thrusts became more and more erratic until he eventually stilled inside you, completely emptying his balls and filling you to the brim. He felt so good inside you, like you were made to take him. He stayed inside you for a little while before pulling out and removing himself from your body, and that was when you felt it.

All of the helplessness from before returned the moment Copia stopped touching you, and you realised just how vulnerable you’d allowed yourself to be with someone other than Swiss. Tears began to fall, and wracked sobs took over your body as you lay naked on his floor, an ache beginning to form in your core as you tucked your body in on itself. Copia, who was putting himself back together, immediately dropped his robe and dropped back to his knees, enveloping you in a tight hug and pulling you close to him, allowing you to hide your face in his chest. “I got you, schricchio.” He said, bringing back the pet name that you loved. The ultimate comfort nickname. “You’re safe. I got you.” He rocked you back and forth, shushing you gently and rubbing your skin. “I got you.” He let you cry. You obviously needed to.

With Swiss, it all felt different because he was just as tormented as you were. His body was assaulted too, and despite his body being in the dominant role, he had no control and no way to stop it. The guilt ate him alive when he wasn’t inside you - when you weren’t begging him for it. But Copia? Copia was your boss - the head of your church - a man who you’d spent the better part of a decade trusting and loving. You’d never let him see you like this before, never let him catch you being weak and powerless. You saw that despite the nature of your coming together, you could still trust him. He still cared deeply about you and your emotional needs. When you almost told him to stop, he would have, and in fact, he almost did.

“I’m sorry for being too rough with you.” He told you. “I’m sorry for starting this.”

“No.” You said through tears. “I liked it.”

“No, schricchio. I took advantage. I’m sorry.”

He let go of you just for a brief second to grab his robe, and wrap you up in it, trying to warm you up as soon as he heard your teeth chattering. It was the adrenaline wearing off, he knew that, but still he wanted to do everything he could to comfort you after that. “Thank you.” You whispered through tears.

“I want you to listen to me, okay? No one is ever going to do any of that to you again without your consent first. I should have protected you better the first time, ___. I’ll do better in the future.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It wasn’t yours, either. And I’m here if you want anything. A talk, a distraction, a friend.”

You sniffed. “Were you serious about locking me up in your chambers and having your wicked way with me?”

He chuckled. “Why are you interested?”

“I might be.”

“We’ll see. For now, lie on my sofa. I’ll get you cleaned up soon, but for now get some rest, schricchio.”

He helped you off the floor and led you to the plush couch you sat on before. He sat on the floor while you got comfortable and held your hand as you began to drift off to sleep. All the while, his thumbs rubbed against your skin, and every now and then, you felt a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. You were safe with him. You always would be.

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canarycolemine · 2 years ago

Text

In Season

Summary: Springtime means one thing: getting railed in a sundress.

Papa Emeritus IV x Original Female Character

Warnings/Tags: 18+ for explicit sexual content, light dom/sub, older man/younger woman, oral sex, vaginal sex

WC: 3k

Ao3 Link

Sister Evie had been waiting weeks for the weather to turn right to wear her new dress around the Abbey. She ordered it specifically for the warmer season and knew it would highlight every one of her curves deliciously. Light pink, with a corset wait and ankle length billowing skirt. Perfectly twirlable. Tits pushed up to high heavens. She knew her Papa could simply not resist how innocent she looked.

It was a Sunday, on a day where all siblings of sin and clergy members were permitted to wear street attire. Sister Evie sauntered down to the dining hall for her breakfast - her long black hair flowing behind her. So carefully planned, she was later than most siblings to the meal.

She could feel nerves building as she was nearing the hall, the cacophony of fellow siblings socializing starting to become closer. She was not known to wear such pompous clothing. Mentally, she reassured herself: siblings are kind to one another, always supportive.

And, Papa would not be able to take his eyes off of her sweet form.

Evie took a breath, knowing she had to remain calm to play the role. She wanted Papa to see her in the pretty dress. She wanted him to have sinful thoughts about her, dreaming of corrupting her, using her and discarding her. And she would remain sweet to only him.

The sister realized that a new kind of nerves was building her stomach. She needed to put those thoughts out of her mind, she had a performance to give.

She rounded the corner to enter the dining hall. The entire abbey was already fast at work on the fine spread prepared for breakfast. Groups of siblings chatting, laughing and at ease.

It was always interesting to see siblings out of their cassocks and habits, in favor of the other clothes they owned. Band t-shirts and ripped denim jeans, smart skirts and comfortable sweaters. Although being in a uniform made getting ready easier, there was something to be said about the lack of individuality. Who knew Brother Ezra was into Whitney Houston? How does Sister Diane’s boobs look incredible in everything she wore?

Evie smiled, taking in the sight of her found family.

“Holy shit, Evie!” Sister Kate drew attention to Evie.

Other siblings turned to the object of the sources’ gasp. A chorus of gasps and wolf-howls were directed towards Evie. She had worried for naught. The sister blushed and averted her gaze, waving away the compliments.

She knew that she was often perceived as just purely sweet by the fellow siblings. She was the hard working, kind sister of the infirmary. But damn, she knew how to dress her body. Who knew she possessed such a figure?

The man staring her down.

Papa IV had held his breath since she had walked in. He was worried why his sweet Evie was late to breakfast, hopefully her allergies weren’t acting up. It was that time of year. Either way, she would certainly need to be punished for making him worry. All thoughts left his mind at the sight of her in her pink dress. She looked so soft for him, pure.

By Lucifer, she just twirled in her dress for her friends, his heart melted. How the older man adored his sweet Evie.

His fondness for her turned into a heat, a need to touch her. Oh, she was going to make this a difficult meal for Papa.

Evie shifted her gaze up to the head tables, where the upper clergy ate their meals. She smiled sweetly at her Papa. His gaze was stoic but entirely zoned on her.

She had him exactly where she wanted him. A sly grin graced her face.

The sister walked over to the breakfast spread to pick out her meal. Strawberries were in season, she simply must have them.

After sufficiently filling her plate, Evie sat with her friends. She positioned herself so that she could be in full gaze of Papa.

“He’s looking at you, Evie.” Sister Diane said.

“Good.” Evie said confidently, casually. She did not want to let Papa know that she knew what she was doing. She was a lamb, he was the butcher. “What should I do now?”

“Eat the strawberries all sexy.” Sister Kate sat facing away from Papa, like she was the director of the scene. “Like, ‘oh, I love having things in my mouth! Please Papa, you next!’”

“Don’t be so loud, Papa might hear you” Diane interjected. “We’re creating a scene: Evie gets railed in a sundress.”

Evie was now thoroughly laughing at her friends’ frankness. “I’ve always appreciated your subtlety, sisters.”

Delicately biting into the sweet fruit, Evie made a show of wiping the juice that trickled down her neck onto her chest. Kate made a face at Evie’s blatant performance. “Ever the performer!” All the while, Evie avoided the mismatched gaze of Papa.

His gaze never left her. How brash of a show she was putting on. Wrapping her lips around the bulbous fruits, gently wiping her breasts. She looked perfectly corruptible. There was no way she didn’t know what she was doing to the older man. It was almost mocking him.

“Something the matter, Copia?”

Papa IV turned to the voice, it was his ever flamboyant, boisterous predecessor.

“No, no, no. Nothing is the matter”

“Fratello, you’ve been staring down the little Sorella ever since she walked in.” The Third Emeritus brother smirked, gazing down at Copia's lap. “I can see the, ah, effect she has on you.”

Copia focused his gaze, angrily on the dandy man.

“I would feel the same, you see. She’s a lovely sorella, and that dress, I would very much like to see it on the ground in my quarters.”

“Tread lightly, fratello…”

“And what I would give to hear her scream my name, instead of yours. She’s quite loud, you know, I can hardly sleep when she visits you in the night.”

“Stai zitto! Figlio di puttana!” Papa IV smacked his hand down onto the head table. “Let’s see who she screams for then, si?”

By now, the entire hall had gone quiet, staring at the scene that erupted at the upper clergy’s table.

Papa IV, pushed back from his chair and walked towards the tables of the lower siblings. His pace was deadly, determined, hungry.

Evie saw Papa boring towards her, that familiar fear creeping up again. The fear that elicited the sweetest feelings, the helplessness she would soon feel.

“Sister Eve, would you care to join your Papa for a walk?” Papa IV said through gritted teeth, he was angry, desperate to feel ownership.

“Hello Papa,” Evie said, as she stood to greet her Papa with courtesy. “I would love t-” Before she could answer, Copia gripped her arm and forced her along, leaving the dining hall at a pace that nearly made her trip.

“Copia, where are we going?” Evie stumbled along.

“It’s Papa now, pet, you know so much better than that.” He dragged the body down the halls of the Abbey.

“Wearing that dress, I bet you felt so pretty. You made quite the show at the meal, no? I’ve never seen anyone enjoy strawberries as much as you did. You almost looked as happy as when you have your pretty mouth wrapped around me.”

Evie was thoroughly blushing, but she was vindicated. She was getting exactly the Sunday she wanted. Copia peered down at the woman he was dragging along

“You won’t have that fucking grin on your face in a moment, my sweet.”

They arrived at the upper clergy suits. Evie could feel the bruises forming under his firm grip, how she would treasure them later. Papa IV opened his suit door open, pushing the young woman into his room.

With such force, Evie fell to the ground. She heard the door close and the lock click behind her. Two strong leather clad hands gripped her arms and hoisted her back to her feet.

Pressing his front into Evie, Papa IV whispered, “Oh, sweet thing. Please don’t act so scared, please.”

His hand trailed up her arms and pushed her hair out of the way of her ears. “Tesoro, what a shame. Such a beautiful dress, I’d hate to ruin it. But, I simply must have you wear it as I fuck you.”

Evie whimpered. Her body was turned to face the older man.

Copia’s hands gripped her chin, as he brought his face closer to hers. “Now, I do feel guilty taking my pet away from her breakfast.” His grip tightened. “Perhaps my whore should eat?”

Her eyes scanned his face, fearfully. In truth, his hold on her was causing pain.

His hand came to caress her cheek, wiping the tear that she didn’t know was there. “Shush, now, pet. Look at you, so scared of me. Perhaps, if you behave, I’ll give you a reward, si?”

She nodded, her body otherwise still.

“Kneel.” “Papa, my dress…”

“You better not spill a drop then, eh?”

His grip loosened. Complying, the sister knelt before her man. Now at eye level with her prize. She looked up, wide eyed at the older man. Evie knew this game. Copia loved to pretend he was corrupting an innocent, young woman; he got a thrill knowing she was so much younger than him.

She bit her lip. “Papa? Can I kiss it?”

He nodded.

She moved her hands up his muscular thighs, reaching to the ever hardening bulge in his pants. Gently palming him, she kissed the thick fabric. Copia rewarded her with a groan. Carefully, she unlaced the front of his pants, pulling down the fabric to reveal him. Her cheeks flushed at the sight.

He was well endowed. His member was now thoroughly throbbing, reddening at the tip, now leaking.

She took her time, exploring it’s length with delicate touches. She moved her face closer, applying one gentle kiss to the tip. Another kiss, slightly deeper. Her mouth moved further down, her lips ghosting over a prominent vein on the underside of his shaft.

Knees straightening, she brought her breasts to his length. Copia’s mouth fell open, a small moan escaping. “Fuck!”

Evie carefully enveloped her flesh around his length and moved slowly. Her eyes remained transfixed on his face, chasing his pleasure. She could not deny the burning she was feeling in her core.

“Your mouth, you fucking tease.” Copia now commanded. His eyes shot at her, pupils dilated.

“Yes, Papa.”

Removing herself, she settled herself back. She resumed her routine, kitten licking and kissing every inch of his length. Copia’s hand reached to her hair.

“Take it now, pet. I’m done waiting.”

Eager to now please, Evie sank onto his length. She moved slowly and shallowly at first, just as he loves. Her eyes remained steady on the older man’s face. She went further down, her tongue pressing onto the underside. She hollowed her cheeks, removing him to lavish his tip, before taking him further and deeper. Her head began to bob, now taking him in earnest. Copia’s hand remained in her hair, applying additional pressure, encouraging her to take more of him.

His speed steadily grew. Small breaths escaped his mouth, as he was in the throws of ecstasy. So too, Evie did her best to match his rhythm. Despite her efforts, one particularly deep thrust hit her soft palette, eliciting a gag. She did her best to catch her breath, but she knew that the old man liked to see her struggle keeping up with him.

Swallowing, she could feel the tears falling from her eyes. She peered at him.

Copia looked at Evie, her eyes watering, face flushed. He couldn’t control the whimper that feel from him. Using the hand anchored in her hair, he removed her from his length.

“My sweet, my pet. That's enough for now. You’ve done so beautifully.” Copia lifted her body into an embrace. Evie could still feel how painfully teased he was. He held her there for a moment, moving his hands up her back, gripping her hair and adjusting her head to pull her in for a kiss.

Her moans were stifled by the kiss, which was becoming more desperate. Copia left a trail of kisses to her ear.

“Little one, I need to hear you scream. Can you do that for me?” Evie’s knees nearly gave out from beneath her. “Now tell your Papa: who owns you?”

Evie whined.

Copia tightened the grip in her hair, pulling her back to see her.

"You need to listen, pet. And I said, who owns you?"

“Papa, you do! Papa, please!” She whined. “I’ll do anything, please, just touch me.” Evie was aching with desire, so deliciously neglected. The tears were flowing freely.

“Ah, that's right.”

With a swift motion, Copia lifted his girl over his shoulder. Even in his older age, he was deceptively strong. He carried her body over to his bed, throwing her down onto the satin sheets. Evie laid for a moment, anticipating his touch, which never came.

“Papa?” She gazed up to find him, standing in the same spot from which he threw her.

“You look pretty when you cry, tesoro.” Evie’s head tilted, she was waiting for him to make a move, to pounce on her like a wolf to a hare. “Lift your skirt, and remove your panties.”

“Oh Papa, I’m so sorry.” Evie faked sympathy. Copia’s stare sharpened. She lifted her skirt to show Papa that she had neglected undergarments for the day.

Copia groaned at her bareness. “You are wicked, pet. And who would know? Who would have known that the sweet sister could be so desperate.” Step by step, inching towards her body. Evie’s legs instinctively closed. “And who would have known she was so perverse? So needy, desperate to be owned. A perfect little fuckdoll.”

His figure towered over her.

A doe eyed stare gazed up at the man. Her breaths were shallow. “Papa...”

“Yes, dolcezza, just like that, sing for me.” Copia descended onto her legs, his hand slithering between the soft flesh of her thighs. He tapped once, “let me make my pet feel so good.” Evie opened her legs, “Ah, so beautiful. Already dripping from just taking my cock in your mouth.”

Had Evie not wanted this very moment, she would have cringed at her need. No shame, she needed him.

Copia drew his face down to her sex, and gently kissed her clit. He dragged two fingers through her slit and withdrew them to inspect. “So wet for Papa, si?” She was thoroughly keening at the sight of her arousal.

Hearing her whimpers, Copia continued his ministrations. He made small circles around her entrance, applying a gentle pressure. His tongue continued to lavish her bud, eliciting her whines further. Here he remained for a few moments, building her pleasure.

His mouth enveloped her clit, suckling on the delicate flesh. As he did, his finger delved into her. A guttural moan escaped Evie’s lips. Copia chucked at her reaction, the vibrations from him tickling her further. Another finger joined his efforts, pushing into her velvet heat.

He developed a rhythm between his mouth and his fingers, pumping into her. She could feel him curl his fingers into the spot inside of her, her toes curling at the newly applied pressure. His leather clad hands always felt soft and luxurious.

She could feel the band inside tightening; she was getting close. Already wound up from pleasuring Copia, she knew she would not last much longer.

“Papa, I’m so, so close.” She whined, begging for him.

His face lifted from her sex. “What do you want, pet? Tell Papa.”

“Fuck me!”

Needing no further instruction, Copia stood, withdrawing his fingers from her. He freed his cock from his trousers, still aching from Evie’s ministrations. With one thrust, he entered her. Her screams filled the room.

“Yes, pet, you feel so good.” Copia growled. He paused for her to adjust to his size; he looked down at the woman underneath him. She was writhing, her body begging him to move. “So fucking good for Papa.”

He thrust into her with veracity; Evie gripped the sheets to brace herself. It was almost too much. Her breath barely kept up with his movements. She clenched her walls around him, the band so close to snapping.

Copia brought his hand to her clit, stroking in time with his thrusts.

She felt the pressure grow to it’s highest peak, the heat at a bursting point. “I’m there, Papa, please let me cum, please.” She was unaware of the words she was saying, just desperate to get to her goal.

“No.” Copia said through gritted teeth, his eyes boring down into hers. “Wait.”

Evie huffed. Her head was thrown back, in concentration of holding on. She closed her eyes tight, focused on her breathing. She couldn’t help the moans that fell from her mouth, as Papa relentlessly fucked her.

“Papa, please, I can’t hold on anymore, please.” Her tears were falling once more.

“Show me who you belong to, scream, Evie, scream for Papa.”

“Papa!” as she screamed, she could feel the band break. Her muscles contracted, rocking her body. The white heat flowed through her veins, enrapturing her in the waves of bliss. Her walls bearing down on Copia, he soon followed. His eyes, transfixed on the woman below him, lost in ecstasy.

Evie felt his length twitch in her stomach, a warm release spurting into her. Copia held her hips to steady himself through his orgasm. His finger - still flying on her nub.

She was fighting off the overstimulation, her body growing tired and painful at the overuse. Copia ceased his movements. As her breaths slowed, Copia removed himself from her.

He stepped back, as to remark on the scene he created. His gloved hand returned to her entrance, now leaking with his spend; Copia shoved the dripping fluids back into her. Evie was slowly coming down to Earth.

“Wouldn’t want to get any on your dress, heh?”

“Copia…” Her eyes rolled at his lewd actions. Evie laughed as she broke her character.

“Amore, allow me a moment.” Copia departed to his bathroom, arriving back with a dampened washcloth. He gingerly wiped her legs - so gently, as if tending to wounds. While Copia loved the intense moments of his lust, he adored taking care of his lover when they finished chasing their pleasures. His sweet, his Evie. Once satisfied with his cleaning, Copia joined Evie lying on his bed. He turned her head and pulled her close for a kiss.

“Thank you, Copia.”

“Ah, dolce, it is my pleasure. After all, you said you wanted to get railed in a sundress, si? It is the season.” He smirked at her. “Perhaps we will buy you a replacement dress, I might have gotten too… eh, excited about this one. And we should get you one in blue, to match me, then everyone knows who you belong to,?”

Evie smacked his arm, as Copia wiggled his eyebrows at the suggestion.

She wasn’t opposed to showing everyone who she belonged to.

#my wrtitng #papa iv x female OC #papa iv x reader #copia x oc #papa iv x reader smut #copia x reader #cardinal copia x reader smut #papa emertius iv x reader smut #copia #popia #popia x reader #ghost bc fic #ghost band fic #the band ghost fic

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tyarichtofen · 2 years ago

Text

Tied and begging

Copia x GN Reader

i'm too lazy to make a fic out of it, but we do love a begging papa so there it is :)

Warnings : sub Copia, ropes, edging ?, hand job

480 words

He's panting already and slick with his own sweat. There is red marks at the expanse of his tighs and his shins caused by the tightness of the ropes and his squirms. It must be uncomfortable for him to lay in such a position but he can't seem to bring himself to care anymore, not that he ever did anyway. If you could see his wrists tied behind his back, you'd see the red dots forming at the surface of his pale skin.

You admire him from where you're kneeling between his legs. His chest is red and so are the top of his ears and his whole face. Some rebellious strands of his beautiful hair are falling on his face but it only alleviate your will to play with him. He's just so pretty like that. So pliable. And just to please you.

He helplessly and almost against his will now rut his hips in the air once he loses your touch. 'Amore, please, please. Please. Let me cum, please.' He begs with shiny eyes.

'Ah !' He cries out in surprise when you start kitten licking at the slit of his cock. 'Amore ! I- I-,' His little voice sounds almost alarmed. 'I'm gonna cum ! Stop, please stop.' He shakes his head and closes tightly his eyes.

You retrieve off of him and look at the mess lying beneath you. He's all frustrated grunts and pathetic sobs. Some whines you never thought he was capable of doing before now when he wiggles his hips in the air. Little crescents are forming in his palms from where his nails are digging too deep.

After a few seconds of calm he tries to regain his breath but to no avail. As soon as he tries to inhale fresh air again you remind him of his burden. You grab his leaking cock and start to slowly pump him again. This knocks all the little air he had out of his lungs and Copia throw his head back in a pillow. His legs lock completely outstretched to meet your touch instantly.

'You're doing so good Copia, so good for me.' You keep a slow pace and give twists of your wrist when you reach the head of his cock. You lean down to kiss the 666 tattoo on his chest and he let out a long groan at the welcomed touch of your lips against his heated skin. You trail your kisses higher, passing by his neck and jaw until you reach his ear. Copia's breath comes in puffs and his chest rise quickly against yours.

'Cum for me, Papa.' You whisper.

Copia bites his lip to quiet his strangled moans. His eyes rolls back in his head from the raw pleasure of finally cumming. His stomach jumps with every contraction he has to offer in your hand, painting his stomach and yours with his own seed.

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deakyjoe · 6 months ago

Text

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!

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writingjourney · 7 months ago

Text

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

#the band ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus iv x reader #copia x reader #papa emeritus iv fanfiction #copia fanfiction #copia smut #papa emeritus iv smut #reader insert #female reader

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ghulehunknown · 1 year ago

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Papa Headcanons - 🐱👅

WARNING!! - NSFW

All the Papas love going down, but they each have their own style

Primo

Prefers to get you nice and worked up, so he’ll spend a painfully long time kissing and caressing you before actually going down on you (so when he does use his tongue it feels explosive)

Says “My, my aren’t we a wet little thing?” everytime, knowing FULL WELL he did that to you

Soft and slow, very gentle

Long, painted strokes along your entire area

Massages your breasts while flicking his tongue around your clit

Uses his thumb to rub circles on your clit to give his mouth a break but doesn’t stop until you’ve cum at least once or twice, preferably in his mouth

Secondo

Roughly fingers you while eating you out

Spreads your legs wide so he can eat every inch of you

Loves to eat you from behind so he can finger your ass too

Grabs onto your legs and hips so he can pull your body closer to him

Wants to take his time and edges you - so he’ll alternate by doing other forms of foreplay (sucking on your nipples or pinching them, making out, fingering you)

Praises you (“brava ragazza”) for being so patient as he takes his time torturing you (“You will be rewarded, tesorina”)

Wants to do all the work so he’ll scold you if you start to grind against him

Loves to see his Papal paints smeared all over your thighs

Massages your ass and tits while eating you out

Terzo

Would die happy drowned in pussy

Wears the smell of you like a badge of honor the whole day

Desperate to eat your arousal and drink you if you squirt

In fact it’s a little game he plays with himself, to see if he can make you squirt (he’s almost always successful)

Dying to get you off this way before he fucks you hard into the mattress

LOVES when you ride his face; he wants to be smothered and barely able to breathe

Also into 69ing - you on top or laying on your sides

Favorite cunnilingus position is you on your back with your legs spread and one hooked over his shoulder while he finger fucks you and sucks your clit

Massages your g-spot when he knows you’re close to cumming

Darts his tongue in and out of your hole a lot (“Amore, how could I waste a single drop of you?”)

Suctions/sucks on your clit a lot and alternates that, flicking his tongue, and using the flat part of his tongue

While each papa has their talents and are very good at doing down, Terzo is the Prince of Cunnilingus - a cunt connoisseur, if you will

Immediately wants to kiss you during (so you can see how aroused he’s made you) and after because sometimes he’s sweet like that

Usually wants to fuck right after you’ve cum (while you’re still breathing heavily)

Copia

Kisses every inch of you

Moans as soon as he has you in his mouth; he can cum just from eating you out (pathetic little rat man)

Can’t help it and will stroke himself while going down on you, unless you have him tied up (to punish him for being a dirty, needy man)

Loves being submissive to you while pleasuring you - either kneeling underneath you while you’re standing or sitting on the edge of the bed/couch, or tied up to the bedpost while you ride his face

Wants to be used like your sex toy

Would gladly spend all day down there as long as you’re getting off

Heard somewhere that spelling the alphabet with his tongue will get you off, so he does that and stops at whichever letter or motion gets the loudest response

He’s got a little bit of washing machine syndrome going on - very sloppy and all over the place at times

Finds a steady rhythm, position, and stroke and sticks to it because if it always works why change it

Listens to your breathing get heavier and stays consistent with his speed and motion when you grip his hair and tell him “don’t stop!”

Wants to cuddle you after and kiss you and feed you snacks (one time he hand fed you fruit snacks while he was down there)

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honey-tongued-devil · 1 year ago

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Sinners' tango

It wasn't just meant to be a small collection of Papa x Sister of Sin!Reader, but also to have a little interpretation key. So, as usual, I invite you to comment/like to show your support!

I really like the idea that the Ministry of Ghosts is a matriarchal pyramid, where even though Papa seems like the most important figure, Sister Imperator is the one who holds the reins of everything. Furthermore, I like that this isn't seen as a threat to anyone's masculinity within the clergy.

This series had a bit of this in mind. The woman isn't shown to allow more or less everyone to insert/identify themselves, yet her presence is so strong that even without ever seeing her face, you should be able to perceive her as the dominant figure in the composition. Sometimes she simply doesn't bother to look at those who are looking at the images, as if leaving the dirty work to someone else, other times she plays with her men, who allow themselves to be moved docilely.

There's also a certain sensuality, the idea of intimacy between the sister and the pope, and the various popes looking into the camera is like an awareness of their position. It's a submissive, almost devoted but still proud. Except for Copia, but not because he's not devoted to her, but because he, more than anyone, couldn't take his eyes off her.

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da-rulah · 1 year ago

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Confessional - Cardinal Copia x F!Reader

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

Rating: Explicit, 18+ Word Count: 5.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On his side.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When you’re ready, Sorella.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever had sparked this, it had only grown.

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

But imagine is exactly what the Cardinal was doing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, they started that way…”

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

“Please, explain...”

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Cardinal…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s you.

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

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

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

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

Because it was you.

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

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

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

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

“Do you ever… act on those dreams?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stood up to leave when…

“No, no, wait, per favore…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, continue mio cara…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, wait…

He really could hear that…

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

And he heard it again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His Sorella… his amore…

What a sick, perverted old Cardinal he was.

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

#copia x reader #cardinal copia #cardinal copia smut #copia smut #papa emeritus 4 #papa x reader #papa emeritus iv #the band ghost fanfic #ghost bc #ghost band smut #cardinal copia x reader #copia #papa iv x reader #papa smut #papa emeritus smut

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xximperioxx · 1 year ago

Text

Call It What You Want

Phantom Ghoul x GN! Reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: a lil spicy (I couldn’t help myself)

Note: ITS BEEN SO LONG IM SO SORRY. Seeing ghost on Saturday really got me in the mood to write again. For my man phantom. I listened to Call It What You Want by Taylor Swift while writing this. I’m a bit rusty since it’s been a bit so I apologize in advance but please enjoy 🖤🖤

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat by yourself in the cafeteria with a book in your hand and a coffee in the other. It was one of those cheesy smutty-romance novels you couldn’t help but love. Maybe it was because you are in a desperate need of some romance yourself after your last relationship went downhill or maybe it was a great distraction. All of your so-called friends took his side of the breakup and left you in the dust. You couldn’t help but feel lonely sometimes but books were a saving grace.

Your face remained stoic as you read, getting lost in the words in front of you.

His fingers trace the shape of her body as her breath hitches. Stopping at the edge of her panties and gives her a smirk before he brings his mouth close and brings the fabric down with his teeth. She lets out a breathy moan as she feels his teeth grazing against her ski-

“Whatcha reading?”

A shriek escapes your lips and the book falls into your lap. You quickly cover your mouth at the noise you made. Heat radiates off your cheeks as you look up and see a ghoul. Your reflection staring back at you in the goggles of his mask.

You gape at him for a minute and remember he said something. He stares back in an almost giddy manner Slowly bringing your hand down from your mouth, “W-what?”

He grins sheepishly, “Your book,” he nods to your lap, “I was wondering what you were reading.”

Your blush returns and you wave it off, “oh, just some silly little romance novel.”

His grin turns into a teasing smile, “Sureee, that’s why you dropped it so fast.”

“You scared me!” You try to defend yourself but fail as a small smile fights through. His grin grows bigger and so does yours.

“I’m (Y/N),”

He stares at your hand in front of him. He places his in yours and shakes it slowly.

“Phantom.”

Your eyes glance behind him to see his tail waving in excitement. “You’re the new ghoul Papa summoned for the band, right?”

He grows shy, “Y-yeah.”

You sense his uneasiness and give him a gentle smile, “Well, I’m excited to see you play.”

His face lights up, “Really?” You nod and he grows excited, “I have been practicing with Sodo and I’m getting really good!”

You check the time and your eyes widen as you realize you're late for a meeting with Primo. You stand up and grab your book and coffee. “I’m really sorry, I have a meeting wit-”

Phantom grabs your wrist to stop you, “Do you think maybe I can play for you sometime?”

You’re surprised. An invitation to hang out with someone? It’s been so long. You give him a happy nod.

He jumps up, “Great!”

You begin to walk away before you turn around and give the ghoul one last smile, “It was nice to meet you, Phantom!”

His tail begins to wave back and forth in excitement as he gives you a wave goodbye.

Sodo stands next to him, getting hit with Phantom’s tail. He gives a shove to his side, “Cut it out.”

“Sorry.” Phantom gives him a sheepish grin.

“We got to work on that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Phantom continued to see each other after the first guitar session. He showed you tricks he was learning to play on tour, his solos, and even offered to show you how to play to which you politely declined.

He would meet you at the library when he wanted to see you. He would find a book to read and the two of you would curl up in chairs next to each other in the back of the library. Your heart fluttered the first time you had glanced over and saw him entranced by the book in his hand. His mask laying on the arm rest next to him, you got to study his features. How his hair slightly covers his face or how he bites his lip when he reads. You smiled to yourself and continued to read.

The following library visits turned to him picking out cheesy romance novels for you to read, purely judging by the covers, and you picking out some books for him. You both share a couch now and end up with his head in your lap.

You run your fingers through his hair, reading the page. Bringing your hand up, you turn the page and Phantom lets out a whine at the loss of contact.

You don’t notice, too busy with the words in front of you. Your fingernails gently scrape against his scalp. He lets out a choked moan. Yet again you don’t notice.

After a while you put your book down and glance down at the ghoul. You sigh, “You have such pretty hair. I hope you know that.”

A blush grows on his face but looks up at you steady eyes, “Yeah, well, you have such a pretty face. I hope you know that.”

Your laugh fills the quiet back section of the library.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were having a rough night. You had seen your ex and ex friends hanging out together and it triggered a panic attack.

You sat, hidden away in a back aisle of the library, with your knees to your chest. Keeping your head down, you count your breaths.

Footsteps approach you. They stop and the person sits down next to you.

Peaking, you see Phantom looking at you with a tilted head. You shake your head before hiding in your arms.

You hear him take off his mask and feel him nudge you.

Not getting anything from you, he pulls you into his side. He didn’t need to know what was wrong, he just wanted to be there. He began to trace shapes on your back.

After you have calmed down, you place your head on his shoulder. “Panic attacks suck.”

Phantom hums in agreement.

The two of you sat in silence for a while before you spoke up slowly, “Would you run away with me?”

It was quiet again. “Hypothetically,” you add.

He turns his head, “I would go to heaven and back with you.”

You stare at him with glistening eyes. You never wanted anyone more. You send Papa a quick ‘thank you’ in your mind for summoning this ghoul. You wanted nothing more than to lean in. Phantom smiles at you, “Hypothetically,” he adds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Phantom were the only ones in the practice room. You both sat on the couch as he practiced. He seemed off today but didn’t know how. He seemed extra twitchy. He brought up teaching you how to play again.

“Come on, (Y/N)!” He pleaded. He slid off the couch and onto his knees. He’s in front of you on his knees. You’re definitely mentally freaking out.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not good with my fingers,” You pretend to play as a joke, “See?”

He grabs your hands, “Yeah, but I am!” Your heartbeat quickens. Your mouth goes dry and you pray he doesn’t hear the thumping of your heart. He pleads again, “I can show you.”

You don’t even know what to say. Does he know what he’s doing to you right now? “I-..”

He slowly gets up, hovering over you. He licks his lips and whispers, “Please, (Y/N).”

He nuzzles his head against yours before your neck.

“You’re not talking about the guitar anymore, are you?” you breathed out shakily.

You feel him shake his head, “Please let me touch you,” he whines into your neck.

You’re so close to hyperventilating, you can barely hear what he said. He slides back down on his knees, his hands gripping your thighs as he looks back up with you with needy eyes.

You grab his face and lean down to kiss him. Another whine leaves his lips as you touch him. His skin almost burning to the touch.

The door suddenly opens and in comes Swiss and Sodo. You jump back embarrassed.

Phantom whips his head around to the other ghouls and growls. Your eyes widen at the sound.

“Well well well. What do we have here?” Swiss grins.

Sodo elbows Swiss hard in the stomach, “Calm down Phan, it’s okay.”

Quickly getting up, you apologize. You’re too embarrassed. You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for but it’s the only thing coming out of your mouth.

Grabbing your stuff, you head to the door, “I’m sorry,” you look at Phantom, “I’ll see you later, okay?”

He nods. Realization of what happened hits him and he feels just as embarrassed and guilty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Papa announced they would be performing at the Abbey, you were unsure if you wanted to go. It had been a week since the practice room incident and you hadn’t seen Phantom since.

Your thoughts have been too loud since. Maybe you offended him somehow or maybe he didn’t like you anymore. You’d gone to the library everyday in hopes he’d show up. Maybe you’ve read too many romance novels to still have your hopes up.

It was the night of the ritual and Siblings around you were buzzing with excitement. It had been a while since Papa performed for the Abbey and would be the first time the two new ghouls were to be performing on stage. Primo had essentially threatened you to come after you mentioned you were unsure. Needless to say, the old man can be intimidating.

The room is crowded and you make your way to the back of the room. You keep your head low, not particularly in the mood to see your ex and ex friends.

You felt anxious enough. Not only for seeing Phantom but you were nervous for him performing. He’s practiced so hard the past few months. You only hoped the siblings loved him on stage as much as you do.

The lights dim and screams erupt as Papa and his ghouls emerge on stage. You see him. Your anxiety disappearing as he begins to play Kaisarion.

You cover your mouth to hide your smile. He’s doing amazing. He displays such confidence you haven’t seen in him yet. He looks like a daydream. Your daydream.

Throughout the concert, he has become a favorite with the siblings as he blows kisses to the crowd and shows off his tricks like playing the guitar under his leg. Copying Sodo as he performs to the crowd.

You were unsure if he had seen you as the ritual nears its end. But Phantom had seen you as soon as he came out on stage. A light shined on you and he nearly tripped over himself. He knew if he stared at you, he’d get distracted and mess up the song.

The ritual ends with Square Hammer. The crowd singing loudly, nearing screaming the lyrics. With the final note, Papa thanks everyone for joining them. You cheer loudly with your heart full of pride. You need to tell him.

Phantom puts his guitar down before jumping off the stage. He has his head down as he makes his way through the crowd. He didn’t want to waste another moment without you.

He lifts his head up seeing you, you give him a small smile and little wave. He reaches you, pulling down his balaclava that was covering his mouth.

“I’m sorr-” he shuts you up by pulling you into a kiss.

You’re in shock for a moment before placing your hands on his and kissing his back.

Slowly pulling away with a smile, you both catch your breath. Your hands find the bottom of his mask, taking it off before pulling him into another kiss.

For the first time in your life, you didn’t care what anyone thought of you.

He pulls away first and looks down at you, “Hi.”

You grin, still holding his hands, “Hi.”

Giving his hand a squeeze, “You were amazing. I’m so proud of you,” you emphasized.

His hands caress your face, “I’m so in love with you,” he confesses.

You beam, “I’m so in love with you.”

The two of you walk out, his calloused hand in yours.

“So was that like a scene in one of your romance books?” He teases.

“Even better.” You cuddle into him.

“We can recreate the other scenes later.”

Your laugh echoes in the hall.

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copias-girl · 2 years ago

Text

To Catch a Cardinal: Chapter X

This is the song playing at the beach! <3

A/N: Ok it’s finally here!! Get ready for some fun in the sun! ☀️ Also fun fact I’m a certified lifeguard and trained in first aid and CPR so everything in this is actually accurate! Except for the fact that I made it ridiculously horny lmaoo

All chapters here <3

•♥︎𖤐♥︎•

You’d finally arrived at the beach, you and your friends scrambling to get out of the car and grab your things from the trunk.

Copia was slower than the rest of you due to being so self conscious after Rob’s comments about him in the car. He was apprehensive to be in the pit of snakes that was your friend group, however he didn’t want to disappoint you.

Like a good trooper, he took a breath before getting out of the car. He carried his boombox and the black and white striped umbrella, and once you found a good spot, he stuck it in the sand. Rob put the cooler in the shade, and you all began laying your towels down side by side.

Taking a deep inhale of the balmy sea air, a bright smile spread across your face. It was so wonderful to be back by the ocean.

•𖤐•

The last time you’d been at the beach was the previous summer, when the Papas were going and Terzo insisted on bringing you along. You smirked to yourself at the memory; of how Terzo had faked drowning so you’d rush into the water and save him. You had worriedly dragged the unresponsive man onto the sand, beginning to perform CPR on him. However, as soon as your lips brushed his to give him mouth to mouth resuscitation, you felt two arms snaking tightly around you while Terzo stuck his tongue into your mouth in a passionate French kiss.

Surprised, you had squealed into his mouth, swatting at him as you tried to pull away.

“You pervert! Get back here!” You shouted once he had finally released you, laughing and chasing after the man as he ran for his life, wearing the smallest speedo you’d ever seen.

“Fratello, tu coglione! Stop harassing Sorella or she’ll leave the ministry because of you!” Secondo barked at his brother, crossing his arms and flicking his shades back on in annoyance.

“You’d really miss little ol’ me?” You giggled, huffing in exhaustion as you and Terzo stopped chasing each other around and sat back on your towels with the other Papas.

“Of course. I’m not losing my favourite Sorella just because questo carciofo can’t keep his hands off her.” Secondo sniffed, not taking his eyes off the book in his hands. As much as he tried to act serious and scary, he just couldn’t hide his soft spot for you.

Primo had spent most of his time in the shade, slathered in sunscreen and trying to shoo off seagulls when they tried to steal his peach slices. However, his mismatched eyes lit up in interest each time you came back from the water, dumping a bucket of seashells and sea glass next to him so the two of you could sort through them together.

Coincidentally, you’d found a green piece of sea glass which you gifted to Secondo, a violet one that you presented Terzo with, and a red one that you excitedly gave to Primo. To this day, they all still had the little pieces, keeping them on their desks as a reminder of you.

Overall, the four of you had a ridiculously fun day, and you wondered why you didn’t go to the beach more often. Perhaps it was because of the terrible sunburn that Terzo developed after that day.

“I told you not to use all that tanning oil!” Secondo had scolded his younger brother as he drove you all home.

“The Emeritus bloodline does not tan well.” Ghostly pale Primo solemnly nodded in agreement from the front seat.

“Come fottutamente ovvio! I think I fucking know that now! Ow, cazzo!” Terzo groaned while you comforted him, the two of you sitting in the back seat.

And for two whole weeks you’d been assigned to slather aloe vera all over Terzo while the cheeky bastard coyly smirked at you. You always wondered if he got that sunburn on purpose.

•𖤐•

“Where’s your towel?” You asked Copia, noticing he didn’t have one with him.

“Ah, shit…” He mumbled, averting his gaze shyly. “Ho dimenticato…”

“You could share with me. I didn’t realize this was a bigger one when I grabbed it.” You offered, gesturing to your big square beach towel, the black one with the white grucifix on it.

“I-I don’t want to pester you, Sorella.” The Cardinal shook his head timidly.

“Nonsense! Otherwise I’ll be lonely on this big towel all by myself.” You giggled. Everyone had taken their clothes off, having their swimsuits underneath, and Copia began to do the same. He anxiously took his hoodie off, then his sweatpants, then pulled his t-shirt over his head and sat down on your towel to remove his shoes and socks. Funnily enough, the man looked the most bashful when he removed his gloves. Copia felt terribly naked without his gloves.

You gaped at him for a moment, having to hide your grin. Your friends were already snickering to each other about it, and you didn’t want the poor man to think you were laughing at him too. But sweet Satan, he was wearing one of those old fashioned black and white striped men’s one-piece swimsuits. It was basically like a tank top with shorts attached. Of course Copia would wear one of those. Part of you was disappointed that you didn’t get to see the man shirtless, but you were also delightfully amused at how on-brand it was. Besides, it was fairly tight, and obviously allowed you to see much more of him than his cassocks did.

Before you could study Copia any further, your friends were all chanting for you to give them a fashion show with your new bikini.

“Alright aright, gimme a second!” You laughed, going behind the umbrella to undress. You shoved your clothes into your beach bag before stepping into view.

“Well, here it is!” You shrugged, giving them a little twirl.

You looked like an infernal goddess. And the tiny black bikini hardly left anything to the imagination. The top- with ‘See you in Hell’ cheekily written on it- cupped your breasts perfectly; barely containing them as they slightly spilled out, creating a delicious cleavage. And the bottoms- if you could even call them bottoms- were basically just a little black thong with the grim reaper on the front.

Rob wolf-whistled as your girlfriends hollered and cheered at you, causing you to laugh at their reactions.

“Unholy moly, settle down!” You giggled, turning around and giving them another view of your voluptuous ass, coyly looking over your shoulder before beginning to laugh.

“Unholy moly is right…” Rob murmured with a smirk.

“Haven’t you guys ever seen a girl in a bikini before?” You asked in amusement.

“Not like you! Ugh, body goals.” Mable sighed dreamily.

“I know right? What was the Dark Lord thinking when he made you??” Lilith added.

“Speak of the Devil, when we get home I’m going to make an offering to Satan so he’ll make me look like you!” Ava beamed.

“You guys are too much.” You giggled, waving them off. You noticed how Emily was a bit quiet, side-eyeing Rob while he drooled over you.

Your eyes finally flicked to Copia, but you were immediately alarmed as you saw blood gushing out of his nose while he stared at you, his cheeks red and his wide eyes trained intensely on you.

“Cardinal!” You gasped, rushing to kneel beside the man. “Are you alright?”

Copia was unresponsive, continuing to gape at you; his lips parted, eyes practically popping out of his skull. He was under your spell, totally and utterly entranced by your body. Had he died? Was this chthonic paradise? It felt as though Satan had rewarded Copia for his unholy works, bestowing you upon him as a gift; the prettiest little succubus in the whole inferno.

Reaching into your bag, you grabbed a tissue before worriedly turning back to the man. Meanwhile, Rob and your fellow Sisters of Sin sat on their own respective beach towels, gawking at Copia in a mix of confusion and amusement, exchanging hushed, speculative whispers of judgement.

“Cardinal, are you okay??” You fretted, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, wiping drips of crimson blood off his moustache, lips, and chin.

“I-I-I’m s-sorry, I-” The man shook his head, trying to snap out of it. “I-I don’t- ehm-” He couldn’t help it; his painted eyes roamed your body as he stuttered out nonsense. He had never seen a girl so undressed before, especially not so close to him like this. And, Hell, this wasn’t just any girl. This was you. Copia never ever thought he’d get the chance- the privilege- to see you with so little clothes on. However, he felt ever so disgusted with himself for making such a big deal about it. He really was a depraved pervert, wasn’t he?

It dawned on you then, with the way he was uncontrollably ogling you. And when you stole a glance downward, you bit your lip at the sight of the very visible bulge in his swimsuit, the black and white striped fabric only accentuating it.

You had literally just given this perverted old man an anime nosebleed.

You had to hide your smirk, wickedly snaking an arm around his shoulders as you moved to straddle his lap.

The Cardinal’s breath hitched in his throat as he bit back a moan; the feeling of you seated on top of him like this was sure to make him pop. He felt hot, too hot; but not from the scintillating sun beating down on him, no. You put the sun to shame, your radiant beauty beaming millions of times brighter than that pendant of fire in the sky.

“Poor little mouse. Let me help you.” You cooed, leaning in close as you gently dabbed away the blood. Rob’s eyes widened at the sight. Was this how you were acting at the sleepover? Why were you indulging the dirty old man in his sick fantasies?

“G-g-g-grazie, Sorella, m-mi dispiace…” Copia stammered quietly, embarrassed. He prayed to Satan below that you wouldn’t be able to feel his cock hardening and straining against the thin fabric of his swimsuit.

You could.

“Why do you think that happened, hm?” You asked.

“I, ehm… I-I don’t, eh- …ehm..” Copia mumbled, his astonished gaze fixed directly onto your tits, which were dangerously close to his face now that you were perched on his lap.

“Because he’s a dirty old pervert who’s never even seen a girl in a swimsuit before!” Emily interjected, crossing her arms with a scoff.

“Gross.” Lilith wrinkled her nose.

The Cardinal’s cheeks burned with shame, the lines on his face deepening with guilt as he knew their words to be true.

“I mean, I’m pretty used to seeing girls with little on, but…” Rob sniffed. “your body is fire. Kinda takes a man off guard, ya know? So give the depraved virgin a break.” He smirked.

Impressive, Rob managed to compliment you and insult Copia all in the same breath.

Your poor Cardinal flinched and averted his mismatched gaze as Rob prodded at his virginity, which was obviously a very sensitive topic for Copia that caused his self esteem to plummet. Finally finished wiping up the nosebleed, you removed yourself from the man’s lap and sat on your towel next to him.

You scooted a bit closer, snaking an arm around Copia’s neck to pull him towards you. His eyes widened, alarm flashing in those beautifully odd irises as you leaned in in in, your lips ghosting over his ear and causing him to shiver.

“Between you and me, I wouldn’t ever want a man who’s been around the block as much as Rob claims to have been.” You whispered with a little smirk before pulling away.

Copia only stared at you, a pitiful look on his blushing face as he mulled your words over in his head. He didn’t want to overthink things, because he knew you definitely didn’t mean anything by your remark. You were just a kind Sister of Sin who took pity on an old man. You were simply trying to make him feel better after Rob hurt his feelings. Copia stared down at his lap; he would be a fool to think that someone like you could actually like a man like him.

All settled in and enjoying the hot sun, you opened the cooler, everyone grabbing an ice-cold bottle of cherry coke.

“Salute!” You chirped, holding your drink up, the glass bottles all clinking together as your friends toasted with you.

“Salute, Cardinale.” You giggled softly, warmth in your eyes as Copia gave you a shy smile and clinked his bottle of coke against yours before taking a sip.

•𖤐•

You reclined back on your towel as Florida Kilos by Lana Del Rey filled the sweet summer air, playing from Copia’s radio. You flicked your bat wing sunglasses on, taking the opportunity to really get a good look at the man.

He was pasty pale- obviously from constantly being covered up in his cassock- with a smattering of endearing little freckles on his flesh, matching the ones on his face. Your eyes scanned over his form, biting your lip before taking another sip of cherry coke. What a treat, the swimsuit had a crew neck collar, so you could actually see his neck and a little bit of his collar bone! Oh how you longed to kiss and bite at his neck, leaving dark hickeys there while he made love to you, laving your tongue over the bruises later as you both relaxed after several orgasms. You’d ask Copia to give you matching ones, begging him to mark you as his.

Your hungry eyes trailed lower, then, taking in the way his waist pinched in and the softness of his tummy. And of course, the very nicely sized package between those surprisingly muscular thighs. Your gaze followed his hand as he nervously ran his fingers through his greying hair, and oh what beautiful hands your Cardinal had. They were just perfect. You licked your lips, salivating as you imagined them inside you; two of his elegant fingers down your throat and two stuffed in your tight, wet pussy as you moaned and mewled for him.

“You know, you’re pretty modest for a Cardinal of the Satanic Church.” You remarked, hooking your finger in the collar of his swimsuit, giving it a teasing little tug.

“Eh? Oh.. W-well, there is, ehm… T-there is not much to show…” Copia responded timorously with a sad little chuckle, gesturing to himself.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Cardinal.” You responded softly, causing the hot blush on Copia’s cheeks to spread to the tips of his ears. He stole a shy glance at you, then another, followed by another. Satanas, the man couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off you. You could feel his gaze all over your body before studying your pretty face.

Copia was entirely in awe of your beauty, so needy for you. He longed to kiss your fruit punch lips in the bright sunshine. The poor man wanted nothing more than to work up the courage to pull you onto his lap and share cherry cola kisses with you until the sun was smouldering low in the sky. He inwardly cursed himself for being far too diffident to do so.

Releasing a sigh, he tried to relax, taking another long sip of his coke.

“Have you ever had sex on the beach?” You asked abruptly.

The Cardinal gasped, then immediately began sputtering and coughing, choking on his drink as your friends stifled laughter. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before looking at you incredulously.

“N-no, I have obviously never… done that anywhere…” Copia murmured.

You burst out into giggles. “I meant the drink, silly! You know, a sex on the beach?” You clarified. “I think we’ve already established that you’re a virgin, Rat.” You added with a kittenish little smirk.

Copia’s cheeks burned with shame. “Ah… W-well, no, I have not had the drink either…” He responded.

“Maybe next time we could have sex on the beach together.” You offered. “You know, the drink.”

Copia’s eyes widened, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly he turned to look at you. Alarm coursed through his veins as he felt his cock beginning to harden again.

“You naughty devil, you!” Lilith laughed. “You’re almost as bad as Papa with your innuendos! And you aren’t even old enough to drink!”

“Naughty? Me?? Never!” You giggled coyly. “Besides, I’m not making any innuendos, that’s just what the drink is called! And what about the unholy communion wine every black mass? One drink wouldn’t make a difference!”

“Why would she be making innuendos anyway, Lil? It’s not like she actually wants to fuck a 50 year old virgin who literally looks like a rat.” Emily laughed, causing you to frown.

“Hey, rats are cute!” You pouted, throwing your arms around the humiliated Cardinal and giving him a squeeze. Oh, this man was so cute with those big mismatched puppy dog eyes, his lower lip flushed from biting it out of nervousness. You swore he’d probably squeak like a chew toy if you hugged him too tightly.

Copia tensed up, heart rate rising and gaze darting all around at the sensation of your soft, bare flesh pressed against him, but the contact was a soothing balm to the hurt he was feeling at your friends’ cruel words. The Cardinal knew he looked like a rat; that was a comment people had often made throughout his life. He was already so self conscious about his looks, why did your friends feel the need to constantly point it out, especially in front of you?

Emily rolled her eyes. “Get your eyesight checked then.” She murmured.

“My eyesight is perfectly fine.” You quipped, mindlessly petting Copia’s hair and scratching at his scalp. Lucifer, he really did feel like your pathetic little pet, helpless and piteous while you defended him.

“Well maybe you have heatstroke and it’s causing you to not think straight, babe. The sun beating down on you like this could fry your brain like an egg, ya know.” Rob suggested with a grin, earning a cacophony of giggles from the other sisters.

You gave them a dirty look, opening your mouth to respond snidely, when you suddenly pulled away from Copia. “Oh shoot! Speaking of the sun, I almost forgot to put sunscreen on!” You gasped, rummaging around in your bag and pulling out the bottle of coppertone.

You flipped the lid open and began squirting the white liquid onto your arms, legs, and chest; the distinctive, synonymous-with-summer smell delighting your senses.

Copia awkwardly sat next to you and watched as you began to rub it into your skin. Biting his lip, he tried to focus on anything else but you. The sky, the sand, the ocean waves. But his gaze just kept getting pulled back to your stunning form, and the way you were almost sensually working the sunscreen into your smooth, supple flesh. He tried- Satan knows he tried- to ignore what the white cream looked like. Poor Copia tried so hard not to imagine you signing in delectation while being painted with a big load of his hot cum, gazing up at him with those pretty bedroom eyes of yours.

His lip quivered and his cock twitched at the mere thought, saliva pooling in his mouth as he imagined capturing you in a deeply passionate kiss. The Cardinal craved you, he needed to taste your sweet lips again. And Copia was ashamed to admit that he was also thinking about tasting you in different ways too.

He swallowed thickly, attempting to control his indecent thoughts; but there was just something about the balmy, halcyon summer air and the sultry vision of you so close to him wearing that sinfully small bikini that nearly drove him mad.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than leer at an innocent young girl?” Emily glowered, startling Copia from his thoughts.

“Oh! I-I-I- N-no, I was just- eh-” Copia stammered, mouth hanging open in surprise.

“Well obviously he doesn’t have anything better to do, Em. I think being a pervert is his hobby or something.” Rob sneered.

“Close your mouth, Cardinal, you’re gonna start drooling any second!” Mable added, causing Lilith and Ava to burst out laughing, making comments about how hilariously shocked the man looked after being called out.

Copia not only felt humiliated, but also utterly disgusted with himself for being such a lecherous creep. He could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from the embarrassment, his face flushed and pyretic, chest tight with shameful anxiety.

But then you were gently tapping his arm, drawing his attention back to you.

“Could you get my back?” You batted your thick eyelashes at him, holding the bottle of sunblock up to him.

The snivelling Cardinal’s attention snapped to you, staring at you with an expression comprised of both shock and panic.

“I gotcha, babe!” Rob interjected, beginning to get up, but you only waved him off.

“Don’t trouble yourself. Like you said, the Cardinal doesn’t have anything better to do.” You stated with a smirk. “Right, Co-Co?”

Copia glanced uneasily at the now vexed Rob before turning back to you and nodding quickly, trembling hands taking the bottle from you.

The other sisters looked at you like you had spiders crawling out of your eye sockets. Who on earth would simply wave off the opportunity to have dreamy, handsome Rob rubbing you down??

You removed your sunglasses and flipped over, situating yourself on your stomach and resting your head on your arms, giving the sweet man a delicious view of your ass.

Copia looked utterly dumbfounded as his pitifully wide eyes scanned over your perfect curves. He no idea what landed him in this golden position. Copia felt as though he had no charm, no charisma, and that his looks were quite laughable. And yet here he was, squirting an ample amount of sunscreen into his palm, nervously licking his lips and unsure of what to do next.

“I don’t have all day, Rat.” You glanced back at the poor man with lusty eyes and a playful smirk. Before laying back down, you reached around and untied your bathing suit too, leaving your back completely bare for Copia.

The Cardinal sucked in a sharp breath. Somehow, the absence of that thin little strap going across your back made the situation all the more obscene, forbidden, naughty. Shaking the perverse thoughts from his mind, the man hastily rubbed the cream between his shaking hands before gently pressing his palms against your back.

Slowly but surely, he began smoothing the sunscreen into your silky flesh, being mindful to not touch you too excessively. He didn’t want to mistakenly enjoy it too much; didn’t want to take advantage of you like that.

“Mmm, that feels good.” You sighed sensually, and Copia’s heart skipped a beat at your praise. He truly wanted to make you feel good; he really wanted to be the one to make you feel good.

Gaining a bit more confidence, he smoothed his hands over your back a bit more firmly, but murmured pitifully desperate apologies whenever his fingertips brushed against the sides of your breasts. Copia tried in earnest to do his best for you, giving you a sort of massage while he worked in the cream; sweeping up up up to your shoulders and down down down, a hot blush burning on his cheeks as his hands timidly ghosted over your lower back.

“Ah~!” Your breathy moan was almost obscene, causing Copia to stutter in his movements. He was in such a daze that he had nearly forgotten the two of you weren’t alone; and when he stole a glance upwards, he was met with the judgemental countenances of your friends glaring right at him. Especially Rob. That dangerous look of envy in the boy’s eyes frightened Copia.

He stared at them like a deer in the headlights before you grabbed his attention once again.

“Cardinal, you’re so good with your hands.” You purred. “Keep going?”

Your praise stoked a hot fire of desperation within the man, so eager to please as he immediately continued his ministrations, deciding to ignore your friends. After all, you wanted him to do this for you, and Copia was beyond happy to obey your wishes.

His cock jumped with each little moan that tumbled from your sweet lips, and soon, you were murmuring something about going lower.

“Eh… M-mi dispiace, Sorella. Ch-che hai detto?” He asked quietly.

“Can you go lower?” You asked again with a another deeply relaxed sigh.

The Cardinal remained silent, warily moving to rub his hands along your lower back, his thumbs pressing into the dimples there as he moved to gently knead the flesh of your hips. The man bit his lip, shaking his head slightly and letting out a shaky exhale as he caught himself relishing in the moment far too much to be appropriate. He lessened his grip on your hips just as you began to murmur something else.

“No, like… Go lower.” You told him.

“S-Sorella, forgive me b-but… If I go any lower I… I-I’ll be…” He stammered awkwardly.

“Yeah go ahead. I didn’t get my bum earlier and I’m too comfy to move now.” You replied nonchalantly.

Copia’s mouth went dry, his head spinning and heart pounding violently in his chest as he hesitated. A million thoughts were going through his mind at once. He had never touched a girl there; or anywhere for that matter! And he had never even thought it possible since everyone found him to be so revolting. What should he do? What would he do? What if he accidentally orgasmed in front of you and your friends?

He mistakenly came when you were sitting on his lap in the car that one time, but he was thankfully able to hold in his moans and disguise the audible ones as being gasps of surprise at the terribly bumpy road. But this time- Oh, Satanas- he wouldn’t be able to hold anything in; he’d be a pathetic, whimpering mess. You’d all laugh at him and call him a dirty old man. You’d never speak to him again. You’d be disgusted by him just like everyone else.

Copia could already feel his sensitive cock filling out more and more at the thought of getting to feel you up like this.

Bracing himself, he grabbed the bottle of sunblock and squirted some more into his palm. And then, slowly and carefully, the Cardinal placed his quivering hands on your ass, one on each cheek. He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, swallowing back a moan that threatened to erupt from his mouth as he felt precum beginning to ooze out of his cock.

“What a fucking creep. I think I’m gonna puke.” Emily shuddered.

Copia was frozen in place, the whole world having had fallen away as he stared down at the sight of his hands on your perfect ass, almost in disbelief at the reality of the situation.

Not wanting to keep you waiting, he timidly began to grope your plump flesh, so smooth and soft and round, blushing furiously at the fact that your bikini was practically non-existent in the back. He rubbed his hands in slow circles, only pausing his ministrations to wipe away the sweat that was beading on his brow.

He fought to stay level-headed, but in all honesty, Copia felt like he was going to pop a vein any second. Lucifer, he hoped he wouldn’t have another nosebleed; one was embarrassing enough.

Rob looked as though he was actually turning green with envy, watching with crossed arms and a scowl tugging at his features as the pathetic rat man worked his hands down to your shapely thighs, squeezing slightly before going back up to your voluptuous ass, your girlish sighs only seeming to encourage the man to continue fondling you. Rob clenched his jaw. Was the Cardinal abusing his position as a higher member of clergy to take advantage of you? Why else would you let such a disgusting little man touch you like this?

And just when Rob felt like he was going to snap, the timid man pulled his hands away, wringing them nervously in his lap before speaking up.

“Well, ehm… I-I think you’re all set there, Sorella…” Copia murmured once all the sunscreen was soaked into your skin.

“Mmm, thank you so much, Cardinal! That was a dream!” You sighed with a smile, turning over onto your back and stretching. “You give a great massage. I’ll have to return the favour sometime.” You grinned up at him wickedly before sitting upright, looking like some sort of Satanic pinup girl. “I know sitting at a desk doing paperwork for all those hours must not feel great on your back.” You pouted, ghosting your fingertips down the poor man’s spine and causing him to shiver and flinch, his gaze darting all around as he stammered out a bunch of random syllables in an attempt to respond to you.

“I- w- eh- th- ehm- I-I- eh, w-well, y-y-y-yes b-but, ehhh… heh heh, y-you don’t have to, eh-” He stuttered horribly, but you only giggled.

“I insist!” You chirped.

“Ya know, it’s not just sitting at a desk that’ll ruin your back. It’s also probably because he’s so old. Greying hair, wrinkles, sore back, etcetera. It all sorta goes together.” Rob chimed in casually, trying to disguise his jab as a helpful observation.

Copia’s shoulders slumped in self consciousness; he hated his age being pointed out to you. It seemed as though your friends had quite an impressive knack for sniffing out his biggest insecurities and waving them around right in front of you.

“Well, all the more reason to do it!” You didn’t miss a beat. “I guarantee you’ll feel like a million bucks after I’m done with you.” You grinned naughtily.

Before the pathetic man could respond, Ava spoke up. “Didn’t you bring the camera? Let’s take some pictures!” She beamed.

“Yup! Here you go!” Mable replied, fishing the Polaroid out of her bag.

The sisters took turns snapping pictures of each other and Rob, and soon you were in the middle of a little solo photo shoot, striking cute pinup poses in your teeny tiny bikini. For a few of the shots, you even used your bottle of cherry cola as a prop, the striped straw suggestively between your glossy, pouty lips.

“Papa’s gonna love these.” Lilith chuckled.

“You wouldn’t!” You gasped, moving into another innocent-yet-sexually-charged pose.

“I will! I’m gonna put them under his napkin at breakfast tomorrow and watch him spit out his coffee!” The girl responded, laughing.

“Lilith no! You’ll give poor Papa a heart attack like that!” Mable giggled.

Copia shyly sat to the side during all this, mindlessly poking his fingers into the warm sand, watching you through his lashes. He felt a pang of jealously stab through his heart at the thought of Terzo getting pictures of you. He tried to shake it off, but it was enough to make his lower lip quiver and his eyes well with hot tears that threatened to spill onto his flushed cheeks.

“Rat man! Can you take a group picture of us?” Emily waved the Cardinal over as you all got into position. Copia sniffled, blinking wetly before pulling himself to his feet and taking the camera. He focused on your gorgeous, smiling face as he looked into viewfinder, snapping the picture. Once it exited the slot, Copia pulled it out and waved it around so it could develop, but Rob plucked it out of his fingers before he could see it.

The Cardinal turned, dejectedly trudging back to his spot, but that’s when your sweet voice called out to him.

“Co-Co, come here! Take a picture with me!”

The man turned, gazing at you with those sorrowful puppy dog eyes. “M-me?” He asked pitifully.

“Yes you, silly. Come here.” You grinned, beckoning him closer with a come-hither motion.

Copia’s freckled cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red as he frantically smoothed his hair back, wanting to look his best.

“Do you want him in the group pict-”

“No, I want it to be just me and the Cardinal.” You cut Mable off with a smile.

“Ehm… Okie dokie..” Copia hesitantly shuffled over to you, his hands anxiously clasped in front of him, making him look even more like a pitiful little rat than usual. You rose to your feet, biting your lip coyly and grabbing the Cardinal’s lovehandles, pulling him closer until his hips were touching yours. The man released a trembling exhale as his cock pressed into you, his painted eyes glued to where your bodies were connected.

“Let’s do one like this.” You decided. Copia stiffly stood facing the camera, and you took his arm and placed it around your waist while you wrapped your arms around his middle, looking back at the camera with a coquettish smile. Yup, a shameless ass shot. But who could blame you when you looked that good? With the pretty ocean view in the background, Mable snapped the picture.

“Take another one!” You said, and with an additional bright flash, the auburn-haired sister captured an additional photograph.

You took the Polaroids from her, waving them around until they developed. You studied them closely, a grin spreading across your face.

“Do I… ehm- D-do I.. look okay?” Copia murmured nervously.

“You look very handsome, Cardinal.” You giggled, handing him one of the pictures. You loved the nervous, deer-in-the-headlights look that Copia had in the photos, his cheeks flushed bright red as he awkwardly stood there with his arm around you.

“T-thank you, Sorella, a-although I would beg to differ…” Copia shook his head, incredibly flustered at your compliment, his eyes widening considerably when his gaze scanned over the picture. With your ass towards the camera and your kittenish smirk, the Cardinal felt as though he was seeing something he shouldn’t. He tried to hand the Polaroid back to you, but you shook your head.

“One for each of us.” You told him.

The Cardinal looked at you with those big, eager puppy eyes and parted lips, a spark of excitement coursing through him. He followed you back to your beach towel, studying the precious Polaroid intently before tucking it away safely with his things. He would definitely be looking at it every night before he went to sleep and every morning before he pulled himself out of bed.

You sat down, watching as the other sisters carded through the pictures from your little photoshoot.

“Wow, these turned out fantastic!” Ava commented, with Rob leaning over her shoulder to get a closer look.

“Yeah, I’m sure Papa will appreciate them!” Lilith giggled wildly, reaching to grab as many as she could.

“No!” You laughed, scrambling to grab the rest of the Polaroids before she could get them.

Lilith smirked triumphantly as she tucked away half of the photos into her bag, causing you to roll your eyes. You looked over your copies before handing them to your dear Cardinal.

“Ehm- Wh-”

“You can keep them. They’re all just ones of me anyway.” You shrugged before turning back to your friends. “I’ll take one of the group pictures though, for my diary.”

“The one you write in with the pink glitter gel pen?” Mable teased.

You gasped at her spot-on guess. “Duh! What else would I ever use?” You giggled.

Copia’s expression was priceless as he flipped through the photographs, his feverish flush spreading to the tips of his ears and chest as he bit his lip, taking in your flirtatious expressions and seductive poses. Sweet Satan, he’d cherish these forever!

The Cardinal decided then that he would make it a nightly routine to raptly examine every detail of these pictures before he fell asleep. That way- he hoped- he’d dream of you. And perhaps he’d also… No, no, he couldn’t. Copia couldn’t possibly pleasure himself to your image. He couldn’t bring himself to take advantage of your kindness like that; he didn’t want to act like a depraved pervert. But lately at night Copia had been feeling so hot, so needy, utterly consumed with thoughts of you. He desperately sought some sort of satisfaction, sometimes even thrusting against his mattress while he muffled his whines with his pillow, tears pricking at his eyes while they rolled back in his head. He tried not to finish- although a few times he accidentally blew his load- because he didn’t want to tarnish your image by cumming to the thought of you. The poor man just needed a few thrusts to alleviate the throbbing ache in his hard cock, just enough to satiate him through the night. It always left him whimpering and febrile as he drifted off to sleep.

“What, don’t I get one? I’ll trade you!” Rob asked, gesturing to the photos you had just handed to Copia.

“If you wanna play Pokémon cards with my swimsuit pictures, you’re more than welcome to do so with the Cardinal. And Papa I guess, whenever Lilith gives him his stash.” You smirked, causing your other Sisters of Sin to laugh.

“Sorry Rob, but I doubt the Cardinal would ever give those pictures up. You’d probably have to pry them out of his cold, dead hands.” Emily remarked in amusement.

After realizing he had been intensely staring at your pictures for an inappropriate amount of time, Copia scrambled to deposit them in his wallet along with the one of you and him, careful not to bend or crease them in any way.

After a while, you stood up, your pouty lips quirking upwards into a kittenish smirk as you caught Copia staring at your buxom figure, practically drooling.

“Well, I think I’m gonna go for a dip in the water!” You announced. “Care to join?” You asked, your eyes catching Copia’s.

“S-Si…” He nodded, rising to his feet and trailing alongside you as you waded into the sparkling, viridescent water. It was refreshing yet still warmly inviting, lacking the usual cruel bite of chilliness that the seawater sometimes had.

“Oh, it’s wonderful!” You sighed, taking a deep breath and relaxing into the water. You stole a glance back at Copia, pleased to see that he was enjoying himself, a small smile having crept onto his countenance. After being so hot and bothered by you, the man gratefully welcomed the revitalizing sensation of the ocean.

You made your way into the water until you were about chest-deep, the two of you sharing a comfortable silence as you both swam around a little bit, dipping under the water and splashing around. You taught Copia how to do a somersault, giggling at his attempts and cheering for him when he finally got the hang of it.

You admired Copia as he slicked his wet hair back, the sultry summer weather making you feel frisky.

“Thank you for bringing us here, Cardinal.” You gazed at the man with your big doe eyes, drifting closer to him.

“It- ehm, i-it was nothing, Sorella… T-Thank you for having me.” Copia shook his head, nervously running a hand through his hair.

“Aah!” You suddenly yelped, jumping into the Cardinal’s arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

“W-what??” Copia asked you worriedly, his hands subconsciously finding your waist as he held you protectively.

“I felt something touch my leg!” You told him. You knew it was most likely a clump of seaweed, but being in your darling Cardinal’s arms made you feel safe and warm, among other things.

“W-well, don’t worry, Sorella, ehm, I’ve got you.” Copia reassured you, his deep blush quickly returning. You only tightened your legs around the man, stifling a pleasured gasp as you felt his stiff throbbing and twitching right against your clit.

“What if there are sharks?” You mused, brushing a stray lock of wet hair off the man’s forehead, noticing how the lines on his face began to deepen as he let out a strained exhale.

“I-I-I will p-protect you, Sorella.” He nodded, doing his best to dispel your fears while also trying so hard not to moan or grind against your core. With each flowing ocean wave, your body was pressed against him more, shifting back and forth deliciously. Your touch was enough to drive the man insane; he was hyper aware of all the places that your body was connected to his.

“You’re going to protect me… from a shark?” You smirked, raising an eyebrow, shaking your arms around his shoulders just a bit tighter.

“Well, I- Ehm-” The Cardinal suddenly felt silly.

“What if it takes a bite out of you?” You asked. “Like this?” You leaned in close, grazing your teeth against Copia’s neck, giving him a gentle nip.

“Ah-!” He whimpered, his arms encircling your waist even more tightly, drawing you impossibly closer. You met his eyes once more when you felt his big cock jump.

“Are you alright, Cardinal?” You giggled seductively. “Is everything copacetic?”

Copia nodded, dazed by you, intoxicated by your close proximity.

And you, well you had to admit that you weren’t in much better shape. You couldn’t help the excited little gasp that tumbled from your lips at the feeling of the Cardinal’s thick cock pressing into your hypersensitive clit.

“Poor Cardinal.” You tutted. “Here, you can get me back for biting you.” You grinned, moving your hair away from your neck and offering yourself to Copia.

He stiffened, then, staring at you with those wide, dumbstruck eyes. Unsure of what to do, he very slowly leaned in in in, his lips hesitantly ghosting against your soft skin. You felt him shiver as he breathed you in, your lips parting in a soft sigh when you felt his teeth cautiously make contact with your neck. He lingered there for a moment, but the feeling of his thin moustache against your sensitive flesh had you suddenly squirming.

“Your moustache is tickling me!” You let out a squealing giggle and he pulled away bashfully, unable to meet your gaze.

“What the fuck are they doing?” Rob asked, squinting as he tried to make out what you and Copia were getting up to.

“Ew. I literally have no idea.” Emily responded, equal parts disgusted and confused.

“Well come on, let’s get in the water! It’s so hot out here!” Ava chirped.

You pulled away from Copia once you spotted all your friends joining you, leaving the man craving your closeness once more, hungry for your touch.

“The water’s great, isn’t it?” You beamed before turning back to Copia, but before you could vocalize what you were going to say to him, you felt someone tugging the strings of your bikini top. Before you could reach for it, the small top sprung off you as it was pulled undone, landing somewhere in the water and leaving your breasts exposed. Your arms flew up to cover yourself, but Copia had already caught a glimpse.

He flinched, mouth hanging open, eyes wide as pies as another spurt of blood gushed from his nose.

You turned, casting a dirty glance at your perpetrator, which happened to be a hysterically laughing Rob.

“You scoundrel!” You tried to smack at him with the arm that wasn’t covering your tits, before you tried to locate your bikini top in the water. You frantically searched before a dazed, blushing, and bloody Copia nervously held up the small scrap of fabric, holding it out to you with shaking hands. You gratefully took it from him, your own eyes widening at the stream of scarlet oozing down his face for the second time today. The poor man’s mismatched eyes couldn’t help but remain trained on your barely-covered breasts as he gaped at you. And thank Satan the waist-deep water obscured his lower half, because his cock was now fully hard and would probably be embarrassingly noticeable.

“You rotten boy, you!” Mable scolded Rob as she rushed over to help you tie your top, while you moved to cup Copia’s face in your hands.

“Oh, Cardinal, are you alright??” You looked him over worriedly, wiping his blood away and splashing some seawater onto his face.

“I…… I-I-….” He stammered, seemingly paralyzed. Copia couldn’t seem to get the brief image of your bare breasts and pert, pink nipples out of his head.

Once Mable was finished securing your bikini, you moved a bit closer to the Cardinal, only to find yourself being poked by something big, thick, and hard.

You gasped and looked downward, heat pooling deep within you when you realized it was Copia’s impressive length that was poking at you.

You stepped forward, closing the gap between you, a coy smirk gracing your features at the way Copia bit his lip to stifle a moan, a shock of pleasure coursing through him as his cock fully pressed into you.

“Well, it seems like you enjoyed that eyeful, you perverted little rat.” You whispered into Copia’s ear, your hands snaking up to his freckled shoulders.

The man stiffened, his blood running cold as you acknowledged his obvious arousal.

“S-Sorella, p-please, I- M-Mi dispiace, Sorella, I didn’t- I-I didn’t mean to- I- P-P-Please forgive me.” The pitiful man quietly pleaded, the pretty lines on his face deepening significantly with guilt and shame, his eyes filled with doleful contrition.

“I forgive you.” You replied, your smouldering gaze burning into him, so close that the tips of your noses were just barely brushing together. “I won’t blame you for being a depraved virgin.” You bit your lip.

The Cardinal released a piteous whimper, his eyes fluttering closed momentarily. You felt his cock jump against you as he gasped out another quiet apology.

With a devilish little smirk, you regarded the man through your thick lashes.

Copia strained, every muscle in his body longing to rut himself against you until completion, but every voice in his head screaming at him not to do it. He one hundred percent; absolutely; in no way, shape, or form, could ever do anything like that to you. He couldn’t let you think he was a dirty old creep. But Satanas, you had such a profound effect on the man. Copia couldn’t take it anymore, not when you were gazing at him with those pretty fuck-me eyes, your delectable body pressed against his.

Oh, how your heart swelled for your poor Cardinal. You wanted him, you needed him, you wished you could have him right this instant. For a brief moment, you leaned a bit closer, craving Copia’s inexperienced lips once more.

The man’s eyes widened considerably. Were you going to- Could you be…? Kissing him?

But then your name was being shouted and just as you turned, a black and white beach ball was soaring through the air, headed straight towards you. It narrowly missed you, instead hitting the Cardinal in the head and bouncing off him to land in the water.

You were unable to stifle the giggle that erupted from your lips, and the Cardinal blushed shyly with an awkward smile, nervously running a hand through his damp hair. He loved making you smile that beautiful smile, even if he had to be made a fool to achieve it.

•𖤐•

You all stood in a circle and volleyed the ball around for a while, which Copia was actually surprisingly good at. You were terribly competitive, and you made a good team with your Cardinal. You even managed to spike the ball, causing Rob to miss a handful of times.

After you reached 13 points- your lucky number- you pulled Copia into a congratulatory hug.

“We won!” You squealed, giggling as he timidly wrapped his arms around you too, a little grin finding its way into his handsome features.

And after a while of frolicking around in the glimmering water some more, you decided to sunbathe again, beginning to swim to shore. Copia obsequiously trailed behind you, following you like a lost puppy because he was so eager to be near you. You ran to your towel, picking it up off the ground and wrapping it around both you and the Cardinal to dry off.

The man blushed as you drew him in close, allowing himself the pleasure of gazing at your splendorous beauty with needy eyes; his lips twitching, aching to be kissed. Ever since he got a taste of you at the sleepover, Copia had been fiercely desiderating you. Every moment without your lips on his felt dull; as if things weren’t as they should be.

“You look like a drowned rat.” You commented softly, reaching up to his pretty face and wiping away some wet streaks of black paint that were beginning to drip down Copia’s freckled cheeks.

The Cardinal sighed quietly, leaning into your gentle touch. “W-well, eh.. Y-You look just as beautiful wet as you do d-dry, Sorella.” He dared to say, nothing but earnestness in his mismatched eyes.

“You like me wet, Cardinal?” You asked coyly, batting your eyelashes at him.

Copia’s breath caught in his throat as he realized the double entendre. “N-No, I! I didn’t mean, I-I was t-trying to say-”

You giggled. “I know what you mean, Co-Co, I’m only teasing.” You smirked, placing the towel back onto the sand before laying down on it, allowing the hot sun to warm you.

“Oh.. Heh heh… Ehh, good one.” Copia sat beside you with a nervous chuckle.

Your friends joined you shortly after, catching some rays and talking amongst themselves.

That is, until Rob started impressing your sisters by doing pushups.

“Wow, you’re so strong!” Emily beamed, clasping her hands together excitedly.

“That’s nothing, ladies! Watch this!” Rob chuckled, beginning to do one-handed pushups.

“Oh my Satan, that’s incredible!” The other sisters squealed in unison, causing you to roll your eyes so hard you thought you might tear your optic nerves.

“Hey. You work out, Rat Man?” Rob asked, coming to stand in front of the two of you, not-so-subtly flexing his muscles.

“Ah, no, I… I, ehm… I don’t…” Copia responded self consciously, timidly shaking his head.

Rob looked the man over. “Well… you should. Might help you out with the ladies.” He shrugged. “Y’know, I do 666 pushups every morning for the glory of Satan.” He bragged, his chiseled chest puffed out like a proud peacock.

The inhibited Cardinal folded his arms over himself, his self esteem nosediving even more than it already had. He remained meek and quiet, unsure of what to say. Surely, he was no match for the boy. Copia felt silly for desiring you so madly when, in reality, you would probably fancy someone younger, better looking, and much more socially apt; like Rob.

But while Rob was boasting something about ‘pumping iron’ and how much girls like ‘swole guys’, you scooter closer to Copia, cupping a hand over his ear.

“Don’t let him bother you. He’s just jealous that I kissed you at the sleepover.” You whispered with a smirk.

Copia’s eyes widened and he turned to look at you, the tip of his pointy nose gently bumping into yours. “D-Davvero..?” He asked, his face reddening as you brought up the best moment of his life.

“Uh huh.” You whispered into his ear once more, pulling him close and hooking your other arm around his neck. “I know the girls told him all the juicy details. He’s probably so mad that you got to have something that he wants but can’t have. You know, I wouldn’t even kiss him if I was dared to.” You giggled quietly.

The poor Cardinal felt as through he’d faint. What was that supposed to mean? You would be willing to break the rules of truth or dare to get out of kissing Rob, yet you didn’t do that when you were dared to kiss him. Could that mean…? Copia inwardly scolded himself. No, no, it couldn’t possibly mean you wanted to kiss him. Surely, you just held more pity for him than you did for Rob. You probably figured that Rob had the potential for other prospects, whereas Copia was a loser who would never be kissed otherwise. It was an act of charity. Nothing more.

“S-Sorella you.. You don’t need to flatter me…” He murmured, looking at you through his lashes, and you only had the chance to grin at the man flirtatiously before you were being interrupted.

“What are you whispering about?” Rob asked once he realized you weren’t listening to him, crossing his arms.

“Oh, just something that happened at the sleepover.” You stated casually. “You wouldn’t understand because you weren’t there.” You articulated with a coy little smirk, causing Rob to let out an annoyed huff.

Copia stared at you in awe. Rob was actually envious of him? Surely, anyone would be envious of the person who got to kiss you, however, Copia wasn’t at all used to the thought of others being jealous of him. Even his high rank in the clergy never compelled a single soul to covet anything about him.

Rob sniffed indignantly, passively muttering something under his breath, trying to act casual and save face as he sat back down in his spot.

“Ew, are you actually having a conversation about your little spit-swapping sesh?” Emily scoffed.

“Yeah, maybe.” You shot back with a sly grin, thrilling Copia with your temerity.

“Giving him some tips, perhaps?” Lilith joked.

“Hmm, I could tutor him. He could be my little pet project.” You hummed, thoughtfully placing a finger to your chin. “I’ll make him the best kisser in the whole damn ministry.”

“Even better than Papa?” Ava giggled, egging you on.

“Yeah, even better than Papa. Don’t tell him I said that, though.” You giggled.

“And how do you expect to turn that,” Emily gestured to the pathetic Cardinal, “into the best kisser in the whole damn ministry?”

You shrugged. “I dunno, but I always heard practice makes perfect.”

You devil, you. Copia stared at you in shock, his breath catching in his throat, chest tightening, face going scarlet. Sweet Lucifer Morningstar, he was- Well, aside from extremely flustered, he was impressed. Copia often wondered where you got so much moxie at such a young age, because, despite being a fifty year old man, he would never have the nerve to be so bold. The Cardinal quite admired that dauntless, borderline reckless quality of yours. He only wished he could be so audacious, but his near-crippling introversion always prevented him; so instead he lived vicariously through you in such moments.

“I like your freckles.” You murmured endearingly. “It seems like there’s more of them now.” You remarked, looking over the smattering on his sun-reddened shoulders and the bridge of his nose.

“O-Oh, g-grazie, Sorella…” Copia’s eyes flicked down to his lap, bashfully wringing his hands together while his poor heart skipped a beat. But… More of them? Oh, for the love of Satan, he forgot to-

“Ah, shit!” Copia huffed out, urgently searching for the sunscreen. “I-I forgot to- to put this on…” He squirted some into his palm, smearing it onto his exposed skin.

“I-I don’t tan well… I just get red and, ehh, a lot more freckles… and I burn.” He explained, rubbing a healthy amount down his legs.

You caught yourself staring at his thighs and the… hefty package between them. Licking your flushed lips, you squirmed in your spot a bit, becoming painfully aware of the blisteringly hot, needy ache deep inside you. Sweet Satan, you were horny for this pitiful little man. As much as you flustered Copia, he somehow managed to have the same maddening effect on you, winding you up with indescribable lust; igniting a whorish spirit in you.

However, despite your flirtatious and sexually confident behaviour towards the Cardinal, you had only ever been with one man; someone in the ministry, someone much older than you. But… it wasn’t a Sibling of Sin. It was short lived, just enough to allow your sexual awakening to blossom, enough to allow you to realize the profound effect you had on others. It was just enough to prepare you for Copia, and now you were ready for him. You wanted him. You wanted to ravish each other in ways that would make Lucifer himself blush.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you composed yourself and calmed your heaving breasts, inching a bit closer to your Cardinal.

“Oh! Well, we can’t have you burning! Here, you helped me earlier, let me return the favour.” You offered, reaching over and smoothing some cream onto his shoulders, calming the fretful little rat with your enchanting touch. He sighed while you smoothed your hands down his arms before gently dabbing some onto his cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead, taking extra special care of his pretty face.

“There. You’re all set.” You smiled, placing a hand on Copia’s thigh, not missing the way he flinched at how your fingertips almost brushed against the spot where he needed you most.

“W- Eh- G-G-Grazie, Sorella…” He stammered nervously, looking slightly alarmed as he gazed into your eyes.

“No problem.” You murmured, keeping your naughty little hand there for a moment longer before pulling away and laying down to sunbathe.

•𖤐•

After a while of relaxation, you suddenly sat up, regarding Copia.

“Hey, do you know CPR?” You enquired.

“Oh, ehm, n-no I don’t.” The man shook his head.

“Want me to teach you?” You offered. “It’s an important thing to know in case of emergency.”

“O-Okay.” Copia nodded, seemingly impressed by your skill.

Smiling excitedly, you pushed the Cardinal down to lay on his back, kneeling beside him and leaning over to look into his anxious eyes.

“Alright, I’ve just pulled you out of the water. You’re unconscious.” You stated. “First I’ll listen to see if you’re breathing.” You leaned down further, waiting ten seconds.

“Am… Am I breathing, Sorella?” Copia whispered.

“No, you’re not.” You giggled. “So now I’ll start CPR.” You interlocked your fingers together with one hand on top of the other, beginning to mime chest compressions over Copia’s sternum.

“The compressions can’t be too high or too low, just right in between the nipples.” You said, noticing the way Copia’s eyes were fixated on your bouncing breasts. “And the ratio is thirty compressions to two breaths.”

Copia nodded, attempting to stay focused and retain the information. After counting thirty, you halted your movements and gently lifted the Cardinal’s chin, looking into his eyes.

His heart began to hammer wildly in his chest as you dipped down, slowly pressing your lips to his.

Copia gasped against your soft lips, and you stayed there for a moment before pulling away. “One.” You whispered, before placing the second kiss to his open mouth. “And two.” You pulled away, regarding the confounded man with a small smirk on your face.

“There. Did I revive you?” You asked dreamily. Before Copia could nod, you spoke again. “Or.. do you think you need another round?”

Were you saying what Copia thought you were saying? Were you asking if he wanted you to kiss him again?

“W-Well, ehm… P-Perhaps you can, eh, show me again?” The Cardinal warily agreed with you, thinking it too good to be true.

“If the victim remains unconscious, you’ll have to keep doing this until paramedics arrive with an ambulance.” You said, beginning the mock chest compressions again. And although your movements were quick, thirty went by slowly for the Cardinal while he tried not to leer at your breasts and eagerly awaited your lips.

Sure enough, right on cue, you were gently grasping Copia’s chin and dipping down again, your parted lips against his.

Copia sighed in ecstasy, tasting your fruit punch gloss as his painted eyes fluttered closed. And- was it just his imagination, or were these kisses longer than the last ones?

You pulled away for a brief moment before repeating the action, and Copia had to stop himself from wrapping his arms around you. These weren’t supposed to be actual kisses, and he was supposed to be unconscious anyway.

“Are you alive now?” You murmured against the man’s lips, pulling away just enough to look into his pretty mismatched eyes, which were now gazing up at you.

“I-I think so, but… I am not so sure…” He responded quietly. “Because, ehm, w-well, it seems as though I am looking at a b-beautiful fallen angel, si? Perhaps I died and went to paradiso infernale after all…” A shy smile crept onto his face, his blush deepening.

You grinned. Your little rat was getting daring.

“Are you flirting with me, Rat?” You questioned quizzically.

“Eh-! I-I am just telling the truth, Sorella.” Copia faltered, casting his gaze off to the side.

“Hm. You’re sweet.” You smiled, stroking a finger down the Cardinal’s cheek and under his chin, causing him to release a little sigh.

“What in Satan’s name are you even doing?” Emily interjected.

“Teaching Co-Co CPR. Duh?” You shrugged, sitting upright.

“Yeah, no shit, but last time I checked you don’t have to literally kiss while demonstrating it.” She countered, looking disgusted that your lips had actually touched Copia’s, voluntarily this time.

“Yeah, you never did that for me when you taught us how to do it.” Rob smirked. “Maybe I need a refresher, how do you do it again?”

“You literally just got a refresher right now. Don’t think I didn’t see you staring.” You shot back with a smirk of your own.

“Why does he even need to learn CPR? He’s never around anyone and I don’t think it works on rats.” Lilith chimed in, earning giggles from your other friends.

“Well what if something happened to you and no one was around? In case of emergency, he’d know how to do it.” You argued.

“I don’t know about Lilith, but I think I’d rather die than let him do mouth to mouth on me.” Emily scoffed. “So, Rat, if you ever see me passed out somewhere, just walk away.” She laughed.

You rolled your eyes, placing a gentle hand on Copia’s arm while he dejectedly stared down at his lap, averting his humiliated gaze from everyone. He didn’t want them to see the hurt in his eyes while they openly discussed their disgust towards him.

“It’s my turn. Are you gonna revive me?” You whispered close to his ear.

Copia met your eyes briefly and nodded, causing an excited grin to bloom on your pretty face. You laid down on your back, closing your eyes and appearing as insensate as possible. “Alright, I’m unconscious.”

“O-Oh! Ehm!” Copia exclaimed, leaning over you, unsure of what to do. “Ehhh….”

“You have to listen for my breathing first, remember?” You whispered, eyes fluttering open. Grabbing Copia by the collar of his swimsuit, you pushed his face directly into your tits, grinning when you heard a muffled gasp coming from your cleavage.

“Am I breathing?” You asked.

“No…?” Copia responded, his face still pressed against your breasts. Unholy Satanas, what a dream! His heart was pounding in his ears, cock throbbing as he melted into you.

You bit your lip to suppress a giggle when Emily muttered something about the whole situation looking like the beginning of a pornographic film.

“Okay, so you can start CPR now.” You instructed, releasing the man.

Coming up for air, Copia was dazed, his mind blissfully blank as he attempted to regain his composure. He could have kept his face buried in your perfect tits for eternity. And if he would have suffocated? Oh, what a way to go!

Clearing his throat, he interlocked his fingers together just as you had done, getting into position, and-

“That’s too low.” You interrupted, taking Copia’s hands placing them on your breasts, his fingertips brushing against your nipples through the thin fabric of your bikini top.

“S-Sorella, I-!” Copia gasped, eyes widened in alarm, and you slowly dragged his hands across your chest to meet in the middle.

“Right in between the nipples, remember?” You reminded the poor man, and he nodded quickly, biting his lip and lacing his fingers together over your sternum.

Oh, but how could he possibly concentrate when he felt so dirty? You were trying to teach him a valuable skill, and yet here he was being a little creep about it. He hoped you wouldn’t notice, and if you did, he desperately prayed you wouldn’t hold it against him. It wasn’t his fault he was so touch-starved, so deprived of anything close to affectionate all his life. And it also wasn’t his fault that you were so gorgeous. No man would stand a chance against your infernal beauty.

Straightening his arms, he began to nervously practice the chest compressions, counting quietly in Italian under his breath.

“You’re doing very good.” You commented, causing the Cardinal to falter slightly in his movements, his face turning bright red at your praise.

He grew more and more anxious as he approached thirty, knowing what would have to come next.

“Ventotto.. ventinove.. t-trenta.” He finished, staring at you almost fearfully once he was done.

You looked at Copia expectantly, but the man was frozen like a deer in the headlights.

“What, do you forget what you’re supposed to do next?” You questioned. “Were you paying attention while I was teaching you or were you just staring at my tits the whole time like a dirty old man?” You smirked.

Copia’s eyes widened, his lips twitching. He knew what he had to do next but… yes, he had, in fact, been ogling your breasts. Could you blame the poor man? The view had been simply breathtaking.

“I-I-I know w-what to do, eh-”

“Then do it.” You told him. “Come on Rat, resuscitate me, I can feel myself slipping away. I think I see Satan waiting for me at the fiery gates!” You giggled.

Copia sucked in a breath, leaning over you and tilting your chin up with a gentle yet shaking hand. He kept repeating to himself in his head that was just CPR. Nothing more. But his hot flush only worsened when you parted your delectable lips for him. The humid summer air was only made thicker with tension as you gazed up at the Cardinal with those pretty fuck-me eyes, waiting patiently for your salvation.

The pitiful man ever so slowly closed the gap between you both, your senses electrifying as his lips touched yours. You couldn’t escape the small hum of satisfaction, and Copia accidentally released a whimper.

Maybe you weren’t all that different from Terzo after all, because you were so incredibly tempted to snake your arms around the Cardinal and turn mouth-to-mouth into a passionately sinful tongue-kiss.

You had far better resolve than your Papa, however, so you remained still. After all, you loved teasing him like this; allowing him to almost kiss you, but not quite.

Copia pulled away for half a second before eagerly pressing his lips to yours once more, so needy for any sort of contact with you. And you, you were needy for this too. The way his thin moustache tickled your face, the intoxicating scent of his cologne mixed with the fresh smell of sea water, the way he was tilting your chin up so delicately, as if you’d break if he handled you too roughly. What a sweet little mouse; Copia touched you as if you were a priceless treasure.

Reluctantly, he pulled away for good when he heard your friends making comments about how he was a pervert. About how he was enjoying this way too much.

But as soon as he was back in his place, you made a show of sitting upright and falling happily into his arms.

“My hero! You saved me.” You sighed dreamily, wrapping your arms around his neck and brushing a handsome lock of hair from his forehead.

Cupping his jaw in one hand, you pressed a rewarding kiss to his lips. Copia swore he heard the sound of a tea kettle whistling while stars painted his vision; his heart hammering in his chest, hearts in his eyes, and cock throbbing, nearly driving him to insanity. It was lucky that the kiss was brief, otherwise he would have started thumping his foot like an excited dog.

You grinned naughtily at him while he stared at you in giddy awe, huffing out a little chuckle and looking like the happiest man from here to Hell.

Your friends rolled their eyes at your theatrics, muttering things amongst themselves while Rob crossed his arms, trying not to look, but failing. They just couldn’t wrap their minds around the fact that the most popular girl in the ministry would ever waste time with a loser like Copia. They were still waiting for the other shoe to drop, holding onto their theories that you were planning to break his heart eventually.

•𖤐•

“Hey, Rattie?” You nudged Copia.

“S-Si, Sorella?” He looked over to you attentively.

“Do you see that little snack place over there?” You pointed to a cute little shack not too far away. The man glanced to where you were directing him, then turned back to you and nodded.

“Could you see it in your heart to get me a soft serve vanilla ice cream? Pretty please?” You pouted.

A handsome little smile found it’s way onto Copia’s face. “Of course, Sorella.”

“Satan bless you, Cardinal!” You beamed. “Here, I still have the ministry credit card that Sister Imperator gave me.” You said, fishing the rich black card out of your bag and handing it to him.

“Wait, you’re getting ice cream?? I want some too!” Ava whined, followed by the rest of the sisters agreeing, all shouting their orders at the same time.

“S-So, eh, let me get this straight, si? Vaniglia, eh, sorbetto all’arancia, fragola, ehh, cioccolato, menta, e nocciola?” Copia asked, pointing to each person when he listed off their order. Surprisingly, he got it all correct, and began to walk to the snack stand. You giggled to yourself, hearing him quietly chant the string of ice cream flavours over and over again so he wouldn’t forget.

•𖤐•

Copia returned after a while, carefully balancing two trays of ice cream cones in his hands, careful to not let them fall over. Rob, in a surprising act of charity, jumped up and helped the man distribute the cold treats to the other sisters.

The Cardinal was making sheep’s eyes at you while he handed you your cone, which you excitedly thanked him for.

He had gotten the same thing as you- vanilla soft serve- and he was just about to take his first lick, when Rob patted him roughly on the back, causing him to drop the entire thing into the sand.

“Thanks for the ice cream, Cardinal!” Rob said before sitting back down with your friends, not even noticing what he had done.

“Rob, you just made Co-Co drop his ice cream!” You scolded him.

“Huh?” Rob looked over. “Oh, sorry dude.”

“Eh, t-that’s okay, I go get another one, si?” The Cardinal nodded, turning just in time to see the ice cream man walking away after placing a sign on the bar that read ‘Gone for lunch.’

Sighing defeatedly, Copia sat down next to you.

“Share with me, Cardinal.” You offered, holding your cone out to him.

“No, no, I-”

“Oh, won’t you please, Cardinal? It’s so big and it’s already melting. I won’t be able to finish it in time anyway.” You insisted, already moving closer to him.

The man finally gave in with a timid nod, wrapping his hand around yours that was holding the cone, and swiping his tongue through the cold dessert.

You grinned, licking your side of the ice cream and enjoying the sweet taste.

However, your frozen treat was no match for the sweltering sun, and soon, melty white cream was dripping down your and Copia’s wrists. You made quick work to lick it off of yourself, only for more to trickle back down.

Stealing a glance at your Cardinal, you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of him. He had ice cream dripping down his lips and chin; and he tried to eat faster, but the poor man was being overwhelmed.

“Cardinal, you’re a mess.” You giggled softly, gently cupping his cheek with your hand, grabbing his attention. You moved closer to the blushing man, his mismatched eyes following the drops of ice cream that began to drip onto your breasts and cleavage, a few even falling onto your thighs. Copia swallowed hard, a wave of guilt washing over him as he imagined laving his tongue over your supple flesh, worshipping every inch of you.

You took him by surprise, then, leaning in and licking his lips, causing his widened eyes to snap up and meet your half-lidded ones.

“You’re a sticky mess.” You whispered against his lips, your naughty little tongue teasing at the corner of his mouth.

Copia’s lips parted in a quiet whimper, a pitiful gasp leaving him when you gave him another little lick. Lucifer, he was even more delicious than the ice cream.

“I, ehm… I-I don’t t-think you’re too much better, Sorella…” Copia replied nervously, struggling to meet your gaze.

“You’re right. I guess we’ll just have to lick each other clean.” Your sultry giggle made Copia’s cock twitch. With the ice cream you were holding now almost completely melted, it freely dripped onto the both of you. However, it still wasn’t quite as drippy as Copia’s throbbing cock.

Giving the ice cream one last lick- and accidentally drenching yourself in the process- you tossed the soggy cone into the sand and brought your little hand up, sucking your fingers clean one by one.

Your eyes never left Copia’s, and the man almost seemed hypnotized by the movement of your lips and tongue. You could practically read his mind; you just knew he was imagining you sucking his cock and finally giving him the release he so desperately craved, hungrily drinking down every last drop of his cum.

Biting your lip, you released another naughty giggle as you snaked an arm around the Cardinal’s neck, your parted lips ghosting along his jaw and chin under the guise of licking ice cream off him. He sighed, leaning into you, heady excitement bubbling inside him as your lips just barely touched his. It’s as if you were teasing him, taunting him, daring him to just let go of his inhibitions and kiss you. To kiss you how he really wants to; deeply and passionately and needily.

But the shy Cardinal restrained himself, not believing that’s what you truly wanted. He suspected that his perception of your playful behaviour was clouded by his own fantasies and yearnings. However, he still enjoyed your closeness, small sighs escaping him as his nose brushed against yours.

Copia wrapped an arm around your waist when he felt you tipping backwards, but you only pulled him with you as you laid back on your towel, and the man fell slightly on top of you, stuttering out timid little apologies while you grinned up at him adoringly. He was slotted right in between your legs, fitting together with you perfectly.

Running a finger through the melty cream on your breasts, you licked your fingers, snickering at the Cardinal’s pitifully concupiscent expression while you mercilessly teased him.

Copia blushed furiously. You were laughing at him, weren’t you? Laughing at the way he was so helplessly enthralled by you. Laughing at the way he huffed out quiet little whines every time his cock pulsed. And- oh, how embarrassing; he realized

you could probably feel his thick length throbbing against you, hot and hard and heavy with sheer need.

But his addiction to you mixed with the debilitating summer heat rendered him unable to move. He just laid there, staring down at you with blown out pupils and parted lips.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled Copia closer closer closer, so close that your sticky lips were just barely brushing against his. Every nerve in the man’s body was alit with fiery anticipation, wondering if you were going to kiss him.

“Move. I’m gonna go for a swim to rinse all this ice cream off, if you wanna come.” You murmured.

Disappointed, Copia only swallowed nervously, blinking silently at you.

“Do you want to come, Cardinal? Hm? Do you want to cum?” You smiled innocently, but that naughty gleam in your eyes glinted dangerously.

“Y-yes please, Sorella.” He nodded eagerly, utterly entranced by the sight of you underneath him, your hair spread all around your head like a halo.

“Then get off me, you little creep. I can’t move otherwise.” You giggled softly and rolled your hips against him to snap him out of his trance, causing the poor Cardinal to flush an even deeper shade of red, a strangled moan catching in his throat.

“M-Mi dispiace…” He mumbled, scrambling to get off you. You stood, taking his hand in yours; a soothing balm to his humiliation.

“Where are you guys going?” Rob asked.

“We’re gonna go do 69 behind the snack bar.” You deadpanned, completely shocking everyone, including Copia, who- once again- nearly got whiplash from turning to look at you so quickly.

“We’re going for a swim, duh, what else would we be doing at the beach?” You scoffed, huffing out a light laugh. “We’re all sticky from that melty ice cream and we need to wash off.”

“Oh, thank Lucifer! I thought you were being serious about doing 69 for a second!” Ava laughed, causing the other sisters to titter in amusement. Copia sniffed, feeling sensitive; feeling despondent at how the thought of doing anything intimate with him was used in jest.

“Maybe I wasn’t joking.” You shrugged mindlessly, driving the lot of your friends mad with your arbitrary capriciousness. The Cardinal looked to you once more, a glimmer of hope in his mournful eyes; that little spark of hope soon growing into a roaring wildfire when you took his hand once more and firmly pulled him along in the direction of the snack shop.

“Oh come on!” You heard one of your friends call after you, but you only walked away with greater determination, tugging the dazed Cardinal along with you.

Copia nervously licked his lips once you arrived behind the small building, his anticipation becoming too much to handle as you leaned up against the cool brick, pulling him closer.

“You look scared, Rat. Don’t worry, I won’t deflower you.” You smirked kittenishly, toying with the collar of the man’s swimsuit.

“You.. Eh, y-you won’t..? T-then, ehm, w-why are we..? W-won’t your amici think…?” He questioned, trying to conceal his utter disappointment behind a veil of lighthearted curiosity.

You shrugged. “Let them think what they want. If they want to imagine us devouring each other in the throes of passion, they’re more than welcome to.” You giggled nonchalantly, strategically planting the maddening image in Copia’s mind, and you swore the man was stifling a needy whine.

You gazed at each other in comfortable silence, enjoying the alone time, away from the condemnatory stare of your friends. You could see the yearning in the Cardinal’s mismatched eyes, and you were longing for him too. You were just having way too much fun to do anything about it for now. After a few tension-ridden moments, you took Copia’s hand in yours, pulling him towards the water, looking back at him and flashing him with your pretty smile, causing butterflies to erupt in the man’s stomach.

“Come on, let’s go for a swim!”

•𖤐•

You sighed contentedly, the gentle waves rocking the two of you as you playfully splashed around. You could tell Copia was comfortable in this moment, because your friends were far enough away on the shore, unable to berate him or give him dirty looks.

You enjoyed seeing him like this; a relaxed smile on his handsome face, a healthy pink glow of bashful fondness painting his freckled cheeks every time your body brushed against his.

Suddenly, you spotted something in the crystal clear water, nestled into the ocean floor. You dipped underwater, snatching it up before the current fully buried it in the sand. Inspecting your find, you gasped in delight. How brilliant, a piece of sea glass! But this one was a marvellous cobalt blue in colour.

Reminded of how you’d given pieces of sea glass to the Papas, you waded over to Copia, excitedly presenting him with it.

The Cardinal glanced at the piece of glass, then at you. A gift?

“F-for me?” He asked.

You nodded. “I know it’s not your colour, but I think this is the prettiest one I’ve found so far.” You responded. “It reminds me of you.”

Copia blushed, graciously accepting your gift and taking his time to carefully admire it.

“It’s beautiful, Sorella. S-so I am not sure why it reminds you of me, heh heh..” He chuckled timidly. “I, eh, I quite like this colour actually.”

You smiled endearingly at how delicately Copia handled it.

“Maybe, ehm, maybe this will be my colour. Do you think it suits me?” A little grin tugged at his lips while holding the glass up to his face.

“I think it suits you very well, Cardinal.” You giggled.

“Well, now I feel bad, Sorella, I-I don’t have a gift for you.” The man nervously ran a hand through his damp hair, his painted eyes looking around, searching for something he could give you.

“Ah! Ehm, c-close your eyes please?” He asked, and you eagerly did as he told you, waiting patiently.

For a while, you could only hear the sounds of water, and you wondered what he could possibly be doing. And finally, you felt something wet splat on top of your head.

“No peeking, Sorella.” Copia hummed when he saw your eyelashes fluttering open for a moment.

Whatever he put on your head, he was arranging it around into some sort of-

“Apri i tuoi occhi ora.”

You opened your eyes, bringing your hands up to feel around your head. You smiled brightly, realizing Copia had given you a crown of seaweed.

“Ogni principessa merita una corona..” Copia shyly explained, wringing his hands together trepidatiously.

You fished around for more seaweed, gracefully crowning Copia with it once you’d found a clump.

The man looked at you, appearing slightly confused.

“Allora… Anche ogni principessa merita un principe.” You said, eyes twinkling playfully.

Copia’s love-stricken flush only deepened at your words, shaking his head softly and biting his lip in thought. “Non sono un principe, sono soltanto un ratto.” He smiled sadly.

“Mi piace ratti. Puoi essere il mio principe di ratti.” You giggled softly.

Copia smiled while looking down at the waist-deep water, fiddling with the piece of sea glass in his hands. His painted eyes flicked to yours momentarily, nothing but adoration in them. You truly knew how to make him feel like a prince.

•𖤐•

The two of you made your way back to shore, joining your friends who were clearly in the middle of some gossip, because they all stopped talking as you grew nearer, clearing their throats. Their lively tittering turned into a few hushed snickers while they judgementally looked at Copia.

“What, did you guys get married or something?” Emily questioned.

“No,” you shook your head in amusement, “we just… crowned each other prince and princess of the ocean, I guess.”

“You kissed a rat and he turned into a prince, huh?” Lilith chimed in.

“Something like that. Although I think he’s sort of the perfect hybrid of both.” You giggled, affectionately twirling a lock of Copia’s hair around your finger before laying down on your towel.

“What’s that?” Rob asked, pointing to the sea glass Copia was fidgeting with.

“Eh? Oh, ehm, f-from Sorella.” He responded, a hint of pride in his wavering voice.

“And she didn’t get me anything?” Rob pouted. “Give it here.” He held his hand out.

“No, it’s Co-Co’s!” You placed your hand over top of Copia’s. “I gave it to him because I want him to have it.”

“Yeah and you also wanted him to have those Polaroids of you. Even though he’s probably gonna be a major creep and jerk off to them every night like a lonely virgin. Better stock up on tissues, y’know, for all the nosebleeds he’ll have.” Rob retorted with a shrug.

Copia’s face grew red hot. He’d never! ….well, perhaps one should keep in mind Charles Dickens’ famous saying, ‘never say never.’ But he would genuinely try very very hard not to! Of course, he planned to admire the pictures more often than would be considered appropriate, but he had already previously decided that he wouldn’t befoul your sumptuous image with sordidly perverted activities.

“Is that jealousy I’m sensing, Rob? You’re still salty that Cardi got all those good shots of me and you didn’t get any? Don’t be so petulant.” You teased, your tone an enigmatic mix of lighthearted and snide.

“Of course I’m not jealous of him…” Rob grumbled under his breath, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair, blue eyes rolling in annoyance.

The Cardinal found great solace in you defending him; he knew you probably recognized the fact that he was often too timorous to stand up for himself, so he appreciated your support more than you’d ever know. Perhaps he should put in a request to make you his assistant…

Tucking the little cobalt treasure away with his things, he gave you a grateful smile, his heart fluttering when you gave him a playful wink.

•𖤐•

The sun was just beginning to smoulder low in the sky, its warm rays casting a pinky-orange glow over the whole beach. You’d all ended up going for one last swim before deciding to pack up and head back to the abbey. After wrapping yourself and Copia into your large towel and drying off, you and the other sisters made the boys face away and cover their eyes while you all peeled off your wet swimsuits and put your clothes back on.

“Oh, I didn’t bring any panties because I had my bathing suit on underneath earlier!” You remarked with a giggle. “I guess it doesn’t matter because we’ll be home soon and I’m going to shower straight away.”

Copia perked up at that, biting his lip at the thought of you in those tiny shorts with nothing underneath. Oh, what he’d give to

join you in the shower back at the ministry; kissing feverishly under the warm stream of water, bodies slippery and glistening with soap bubbles.

Once everyone was dressed, you all packed up your things, bringing them to Copia’s car before getting in yourselves. You sighed peacefully, resting your head on the Cardinal’s shoulder and nuzzling into the soft fabric of his hoodie.

“I’m gonna sleep sooo good tonight.” You murmured sleepily, earning sounds of agreement from your friends.

“Will you be okay to drive?” You asked, gazing up at Copia through your lashes, noticing his eyes appeared tired- and not just because of the dark paint he wore around them.

“Si, Sorella, I will be okay.” He reassured you with a nod, starting the car and taking off. With the radio playing low, the drive home was quiet, with you leaning comfortably against Copia on the bench seat of his car, periodically glancing up to admire him, grinning when you caught the man staring at your bare thighs.

•𖤐•

You arrived back at the abbey, carrying your bag inside and bidding your friends a good night, before climbing the large staircase that would lead to your room. Copia’s quarters were also up the stairs, so you slowed your steps, allowing for a precious moment alone with the man.

“Thanks for driving us today, I had a really good time.” You said softly.

“I-It was a pleasure, Sorella. We will have to do again, si?” The Cardinal responded.

“Maybe just us next time.” You mused out loud.

Copia’s eyes lit up with excitement in the low light, his heart beating fast. You wanted to spent time alone with him? He exhaled shakily at the thought, but you didn’t let him think too much about it before you spoke.

“Buonanotte, Principe.” You beamed before turning and walking towards your room, a smile spreading across your face when you heard the blushing man utter a soft, “Buonanotte, Principessa.”

Slinking into your room, you couldn’t wait to take a warm shower and crawl into your plush bed. The only thing that would be missing? A shy Cardinal to snuggle with, of course.

Oh, if only the ministry’s old heating system could fail!

𖤐 to be continued 𖤐

748 notes · View notes

oh-babylove · 4 months ago

Text

~7k. copia/f!reader. explicit. established relationship, smut, filth and fluff. copia does date night, and you show him your appreciation-- it's only fair. mdni.

thanks to @copia for showing me how to put images in a grid-- top right image by instagram user susitse.art. @enjoy-my-swearing and @photiniainsummer, this one's for you. <3

when the red comes over you - ao3

rhrn spoilers. blowjobs, masturbation, dirty talk, light degradation, a small piece of light cum kink, a touch of hanky-panky in public, some thigh riding, face-fucking, fluff, tw: references to past sexual assault/dubious consent/sexual trauma

You’re holding the same pole on the subway car as Copia, his gloved hand over yours, swaying with him, forced into his space by the crowd. It gives you an excuse to stand close to him, in the circle of his scent like cold smoke. You're not complaining– well, not much. Keeping your balance is a bit of a challenge– you aren't used to doing this in heels, even these modest Cuban heels. Riding the subway truly is riding, the rhythmic thrum of the rails swaying up your body, through the balls of your feet. Riding the train feels like riding a living thing.

“I like this,” you say, as if coming to a decision.

“Hnn?” Copia replies, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at you.

“Riding the train. I like it.” You lean in to murmur in his ear, not that you have far to go. It’s a matter of tilting your head until you can feel the warmth of his skin against your cheek. “But I’d like riding you even more.” It’s just the kind of cheesy nonsense that you’re both into.

Your body keeps brushing against his– a particularly hard bump has your belly pressed against his erection, and his choked-off gasp scores a direct hit to your brain stem, bypassing your ears, cinching something tight around your diaphragm. His hand tightens on your hip, possessive. Holding you up, keeping your balance.

“You little minx,” he hisses, frustrated--with a ragged edge of delight. “You wait till I get you home.”

“You caint blame that on me, now, that was the train,” you say, but you're close to laughing, yourself. You can hear your accent getting thicker, but damned if you can stop it. Besides, Copia loves it, loves ruffling your feathers enough that he can get you to slide back into that slurring hillfolk drawl. Someday he might even make you less self-conscious about it.

Truth be told, you’ve been practically vibrating since before you left the apartment, restless and swollen between the legs, a low-grade ache that Copia has not been helpful with.

(The apartment. Your apartment. Yours, plural, now, you think. You’d never been a co-religionist of his, and he’d had a toothbrush at your place for a long time. Then a drawer in your dresser. Then he’d brought over his best frying pan, his best chef knife– simply because he couldn’t stand it, gattina, you cook with that? And now there’s as many of his books as yours on the shelves– shelves you put up with your own hands while he did ‘the heavy lookin’ on.’ His name isn’t on the lease, but he paid the rent for the next two months anyway. In full.

When you tried to fight him on it, he’d just shrugged. “Babydoll, I’ve been here more nights than I haven’t for the last four months, this is just… ehh, consider it backdated, yeah?” He’d kissed your forehead. “We can do half each after that. If you haven’t gotten sick of your dirty old man by then.”

It was hard to argue with that.

Copia kept his room at the Ministry, even after his… promotion. His term as Imperator, he’d decided, would be more hands off. You’d talked about it a little. Mostly in bed, sweaty and spent and a little sticky. “Mister Psaltarian is more than capable of running most of it. The administrative things. I’m better with the ghouls, I think, but there’s Kevin, and Ashley, they have it well in hand. I want the new guy to– to be able to be his own man, yeah? I’ll show him the ropes, of course, answer any questions he has, but he doesn’t need me looking over his shoulder all the damn time.”

The new guy. Hell of a way to refer to his long-lost brother. “And you ain’t ready to be around him twenty-four seven just yet.”

“...And that. Yes.” He was quiet for a moment. “You’re too perceptive, gattina. Keep it up and I’ll have to fuck you again, till you don’t think so good.”

“So… you sayin’ you gone fuck my brains out? Say, you ever notice that your man Psaltarian loses his train of thought whenever Kevin comes into the room?”

“That’s it, back in the handcuffs with you. And remember, you brought this on yourself.”)

As ever, he’d insisted on doing your makeup. (It should have been your first clue that you were in for it.) It only makes sense-- he’s better at it than you’ve ever been, and he loves doing it. You love it, too, if you’re honest. He had to take his gloves off for it, to hold your chin firmly and keep you in place. It was terribly intimate, his breath ghosting over your lips, the skin of his hand against your cheek. His quiet, gentle command held something still in the center of you, made it sing like a struck tuning fork– a calm vibration that sank into your bones. The cool brush of the eyeliner on the delicate skin of your eyelids. How meticulous he’d been, how precise. That calm focus he brings to everything that he cares about. How his whole being focused on that point, painting cat eyes sharp enough to kill a man.

Your lipstick had been worse, barely holding your mouth open, the brush sliding over the curve of your cupid’s bow, stretching out your lower lip ever so slightly. You hadn’t even known they’d made brushes for lipstick. Copia has taught you so many things.

Copia knows just what shades of red match your skin tone, knows just how to bring out the color of your eyes. He knows, too, the best cut of a dress to accentuate your figure, to flatter your curves. This one was lovely, shaping your breasts, with a little bit of flare to the skirt. He bought you this dress, these heels. This lingerie. He’s taught you how to fasten a silk stocking to a garter belt, that the underwear goes on over the garters, not underneath.

He’d taken the liberty of fastening your stockings tonight. “So the back seam is straight, gattina. I know it’s tricky to get right on your own, yes? Let me help.” His hands, his clever fingers, so high up on your thighs, his face level with your pussy.

“Oh yeah, sweetness, you're helping something, alright,” you choked out, a little strangled.

He must have seen how wet you were already, if the self-satisfied hum he made behind you was any indication. He bit the crease of your ass, just lightly, making a goofy little rawr noise that made you actually giggle.

Embarrassing, the noises he gets out of you.

“You shaved,” he said, and it was supremely gratifying to hear him a little hoarse, himself.

“Did you wanna do that, too?”

“Hnn. We’d miss our reservation.” He wasn't moving from his place on his knees behind you. “Miss the show.”

“Sound like you're enjoying this show purt’ well,” you said, but you thought it best to step into your underwear, anyway.

Pain shared is pain lessened, isn't it?

…He didn't need to know that you only kept them on for a couple of minutes, just until you used the bathroom one last time on the way out the door.

You almost never know in advance where exactly Copia will take you when it's his turn to plan date night- generally your only clue is what clothing he picks out for you, how he does your makeup, if makeup is required. You've ranged over the city hitting up obscure museums before, taken tours in the underbelly of the public transportation system, gone to aviaries and magic shops and tiny greenhouses.

(You like to think you hold your own. Dive bars and twenty four hour diners, sidewalk art festivals and night markets, one memorable instance of a graffiti lesson– that had been an unexpected delight.

Your man can be blisteringly uncool sometimes– most of the time, even– but there's no snobbery in him. No fear, either, not in the way most people are afraid: of embarrassing themselves, saying the wrong thing, of looking like a jackass. He hadn't been good at it, but he threw himself into the attempt wholeheartedly, listened to the man in the baggy jeans with the paint-stained fingers explain technique and theory and the history of the medium with total attention and enthusiasm.

Never will you reach the bottom of him. His openness and his generosity and his good, good heart.)

Dinner and a show is almost a little pedestrian, for him, but there's comfort in the classics. A bar paneled in blond wood and washed in warm light, specializing in rare vinyls piped in on a very serious sound system as much as the cocktails.

He’d been very good, kept his knee between yours, but otherwise, hadn’t even tried to put a hand up your skirt– a rarity, with him. His eyes told a different story, watching you with obvious, predatory hunger. The second time you caught him ogling your cleavage he leaned into it, dragging his eyes salaciously down your body with enough force that you nearly felt his gloves snagging on your skin.

The cheeky motherfucker actually licked his lips at you.

You barked out your unlovely laugh, and the way he grinned took the sting out of the sharp glances cast your way– the aim was to listen to the obscure bossa nova, not to your fellow patrons. Your face was hot. “Ah, gattina, you cannot blame a man for looking. Not when you are as ravishing as that.” It wasn’t helping the heat in your face.

A glance at the mirror over the bar, old and pitted and a little smoky, the perfect self-aware touch of authenticity. You’d never have recognized the woman looking back, not when you first met Copia, this exquisite creature with perfect makeup. Sharp. Sexy.

You don’t hate it.

“...Y’outdid yourself,” you said, slow. You didn’t look real to yourself, this absolute pinnacle of femininity. Copia’s gaze softened, warmed, less the slavering predator and more– a naked adoration that was hard to look at.

(Of course, neither expression was comparable to the first time he’d put you in an exquisitely tailored three-piece suit. You’d thought the man was going to pass out from how quickly his blood rushed south– but that’s a story for another day.)

He crowded your space, just this side of indecent, his knee halfway between your thighs. Copia fed you little morsels from his own fork of– whatever this was. A vaguely mediterranean inspired amuse-bouche. He took his time with it, making you duck your head while the cool tines slid against your lower lip. You kept his eyes for it, moving slow, relishing the way his mouth hung open.

It’s a little much, in public, truly.

You weren’t even sure what you were eating, something perfectly balanced with rich cream, phyllo dough, an acidic tang. Spanakopita when it’s got a Michelin star or two, you thought. Copia’s little shudder at your groan of appreciation didn’t escape your notice, but you managed to keep the smugness out of your expression with truly heroic effort.

From there, it was a short taxi ride with his gloved hand heavy on your knee, Copia keeping up a stream of polite chatter that you barely heard a word of. He’d gotten box seats in a lovely little jewel box of a theatre, for a revival of a classic two-man existential tragicomedy starring a couple of aging comedic actors known for their roles in a cultural zeitgeist film from around the turn of the last century.

It was a good effort, all told, and the actors weren’t bad– they had a chemistry borne out of twenty years of friendship that’s impossible to replicate. But Copia proved that he’s a true and faithful servant of the Devil somewhere around the start of the second act, when he peeled a glove off with his teeth.

Your chest went tight.

No wonder he wanted box seats, you thought, as he settled his hand back on your knee. Like it belonged there, like he had perfect possession of it, every right to edge just under the hem of your skirt.

(His hands-- you love his hands. He’s self-conscious about the hair on the back of them, the dusting of freckles. Large and well-made and skilled, seeing them is like sharing a secret. A gift. He’s squeamish about textures, too sensitive, the slightest scrape will make him shudder-- and not in a fun way. Sandpaper would be torture. Anything gelatinous is right out. You get used to the constant grime and the vague awareness of filth you get on your hands, living in a city. It’s not so bad, for you, you invest in hand sanitizer and don’t touch your face. It’s the price you pay for living in a place with something like a subway, where things pulse and hum and never truly sleep, to be a microbe in the gut of this beast of a city, to be a tiny cog in the great machine.

You love it here. You didn’t think you would. Hell, you didn’t think you could. “It’s growing on me,” you told Copia one day, cool as you like, as if you weren’t giving anything away. “A little.”

“You have no talent for bullshit, babydoll,” he said, both dry and terribly fond.)

All of your awareness focused on the soft warmth of him enveloping your knee, the rough scrape of his calluses on the inside of your thigh– a new sensation, he’s taken the acoustic guitar back up recently. Not moving, just–holding.

You kept your eyes forward, and your breathing even.

His thumb slid over your kneecap, absentmindedly tracing little circles. Your legs fell open a little wider, just so your thighs weren’t touching. You were terribly, achingly aware of the air on your cunt.

A soft stroke back and forth, a gesture that could have been reflexive, thoughtless– if it wasn’t for the beatific expression on his face, his eyes forward and too-innocent. It would have been more convincing if he hadn’t been inching his slow way upwards, featherlight touches, tracing up and back down, up and back down. Just a millimeter higher each time. An agonizingly slow drag, a glacial pace.

Your grip tightened on the armrest.

Copia leaned forward, his breath in your ear. “Why, gattina,” he purred. “I do not think you are even paying attention to the play.”

“You are,” you managed, “a real sunnavbitch, you know it?”

He only chuckled low, and ran his touch to the top of your thigh. The side of his hand brushed up against your wet cunt and you both gasped.

“You little slut,” he hissed, with obvious pride. “So eager for me already.”

He dragged the very tip of one finger up between your lips, so slick it was almost frictionless, pulling away just before he could touch your clit. You took a ragged breath that was nearly a whine, bereft at the loss of his touch. You felt your cunt clench over nothing, an involuntary contraction.

Copia hummed in mock-sympathy, and took mercy on you, cupping your whole cunt with his broad hand, steady and even pressure that was nowhere near enough, but at least took a little of the edge off.

His middle finger slid naturally between your labia majora, and settled there, his fingertip crooked so he could just barely feel the inside of you.

The bastard stayed that way for the rest of the performance, sometimes giving you a gentle squeeze, sometimes pulling away to slide his fingertip back up to circle your clit. Just often enough to keep your attention focused where he wanted.

Evil, evil man.

Copia retracted his hand before the lights went up, giving you one final squeeze. He kept your eyes as he brought his hand up to his face, inhaled deeply, and surreptitiously licked his palm before fitting his hand back into his glove for the applause.

“Play weren’t that bad,” you said, weakly. “No call to do- alla that.”

“Oh? Didn’t you tell me you had a crush on the– which was it, the one with the dark hair– as a little girl? You want to wait around, go to the stage door, get an autograph?” All innocence, all the accommodating boyfriend.

“I revise my previous opinion. You are the Lebron James of being a sunnavabitch.” Despite your discomfort in heels, you couldn’t drag him to the train home fast enough.

So now, here you are. You shiver a little, in this hot and humid subway car, remembering. You bite your lip and can taste the wax of your lipstick.

Copia sees it, of course he does, how your eyes go just a little glazed. He smirks a terribly self-satisfied smirk. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, this’d cost you at least a dollar. Maybe five nintey-nine.”

“Inflation is just outrageous these days. Highway robbery. I’m shocked.”

“Not yet, you aren’t.”

“You are talking a big game, babydoll. Be careful, I think, ehh-- your mouth is writing checks your ass can’t cash.” His hand heavy on your hip, almost indecent. His boot between your shoes, the sweet curve of his thigh displacing your skirt. He’s so close, so warm and solid. The train is packed, but he’s all you can see, all you can feel. His breath in your ear, pitched low. “Your pussy can’t cash.”

It’s all you can do to keep yourself from grinding on his thigh in the middle of the train. “Sweetness,” you croak out. “We’re in public.”

He leans back, conciliatory. Terribly smug. The world fades back in. You catch a teenager in a hoodie smirking at the two of you, a direct and uncomfortable gaze that feels more taboo in this city than even the way your hips keep shifting, restless. You feel almost drunk, stepping into the warmth of his body and his hard cock between your hip and your belly, a little vindictive, relishing his frustrated little grunt in your ear.

“Two more stops, gattina,” he murmurs, as much for his benefit as yours. You see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “We can make it.”

“Mm-hmm,” you manage.

He drags you roughly by your elbow off the train, in a way that has your fellow passengers actually making a faint murmur of disapproval at the way he growls. He might be leaving a bruise on your arm. Can’t be helped. You’re laughing up the stairs, your heels loud on the concrete and metal, giddy, just this side of hysterical.

He’s clumsy with the keys when you get to your apartment building, following you up the stairs so he can look up your skirt. “Can’t believe– I watched you put those on.”

“You just mad you didn’t get to watch me take ‘em off.”

He’s on your neck like a lamprey when you get to your door, and now it’s your turn to be clumsy while you paw through your purse, his hot wet mouth insistent, just under your ear, his teeth grazing your skin. His hands firm on your breasts, pushing the neckline of your dress down so he can fill his hands with them, gripping almost hard enough to hurt. He’s trapping you against the door, grinding into your ass while you fumble with the lock.

“What’re you– you tryna fuck me in the hallway?” you gasp. He’s reaching up your skirt now, his bare palm at the top of your stocking. When did he take his gloves off?

“I will,” he growls, “if you don’t hurry the fuck up.”

You somehow make it in the door without breaking the key off in the lock, and you give him just enough time to slide the bolt home before you’re shoving him onto the couch. You’re in his lap just as quick, your mouth on his, nearly biting him as he laughs into your mouth. Christ, you didn’t even get out of your heels.

He’s warm under you, solid muscle under a sweet softness around the middle, and you can’t unbutton his shirt fast enough. His tongue in your mouth is making you clumsy, making it hard to keep track of how buttons work, shorting out basic motor functions. When you make it, you groan at his fur under your palms, and then he shoves his thigh between your legs and you whine when you grind your wet cunt against it. You have to break off from his mouth for it, clinging to his shoulders.

Your lipstick is all over Copia’s face. He’s grinning, rapt, delighted, impossibly fond. The man’s face is so pink it looks like he’s been slapped around. “Good, eh?” He pushes his thigh forward again, his hand up your dress and on your ass. “You like that?” He’s pulling you into it, making you drag your cunt over his tight jeans. The seam running down the front of his thigh hits your clit and you gasp. “So fucking desperate you need to hump my leg, filthy little thing.”

You roll against him once or twice more, because he’s right, it feels so good, those long runner’s thighs, the coiled power of him. That hard muscle and rough fabric against you, his body between your knees, so warm and familiar and beloved.

But his smirk is just a little too smug for your taste, so you have to make yourself stop before you fall too deep into a rhythm. Even if you actually hurt with being so turned on for so long. You get his shirt the rest of the way open, have to bend your head to suck a nipple into your mouth– the terrible brand over his heart level with your eyes– and bite. It’s not hard, but it does raise his back off the couch, and distract him from you eeling down between his legs to kneel on the floor.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, looking down at you, knowing (some of) what you have in mind.

Your hand is on his belt buckle, and the sheer Pavlovian reaction you have to the sound of undoing it with one hand forces you to press your cheek to his thigh and focus on your breathing for a moment.

You laugh, shaky. You left an actual wet spot on his jeans.

Copia’s hand is in your hair, fingernails running along your scalp, soothing, grounding you. “Baby?” he asks. “Babydoll, are you alright? We don’t have to–”

“No.” You catch your breath, look back up at him, and his mismatched eyes go from soft and sweet to almost afraid, when he sees your expression. The hunger there– you could eat him alive. “No, I was just– too turned on, for a second.”

“Oh.” He pets at you again, then his smile turns predatory as he sweeps your hair up in one hand and pulls tight. “Then why don’t you get to sucking my cock, puttana?”

Just for that, you lean up and bite at his belly, the sweet furry softness just below his navel. You laugh with a mouthful of his flesh at his yelp, how it turns into a groan as you unzip his jeans and take him in hand.

It isn’t as if you aren’t intimately (haha) familiar with his dick, but it’s always nice to see. You’d called it pretty, the first time you’d slept with him, and it really is an accurate description. (It had been emotional for a great many reasons, but that had touched him in ways he still couldn’t articulate.) Silky soft skin over the hard length of him, his head already shiny with precum. It’s the same color as his lips, under the paint.

“You see what you do to me, gattina?” he murmurs above you. “You wreck me. You’ve ruined me– or at least these pants.”

“It’ll come out in the wash,” you say, and take him into your mouth, slow suction, tasting salt. He fills your mouth, fills your hand, blood-warm and firm in your grip. You watch his eyes when you start to suck him down, loving, as you always do, how in that first moment he looks at you, whimpers at you, like you're breaking his heart.

You hear the dry click of him swallowing as you pull the soft skin of his cock further towards your mouth, your grip twisting, the slow churn of it. How his veins give under your lips, under your hand. It doesn’t take long to get him slick, the thick ridge of the underside of him heavy on your tongue. The musk of him fills your whole senses, thick and animal and a little gross.

His hips shift, and before you have to pull yourself off of him to tell him to talk, he’s doing what you want. “Look at you,” he breathes, reverent. “You’re so good at this, fucking made for this,” a twitch upwards, a movement too small to be called a thrust, “aren’t you? Born for this, your god made you to suck my cock. My perfect– ohh– perfect little cocksucker. Want it so bad, don’t you?”

His hand is heavy on the back of your skull, pushing you down with that even, steady pressure just how he likes. How you both like. “Don’t worry. I’ll give it to you, give you what you want.” He’s not choking you with it, you have plenty of room to work with your hand. Still, as you take him down further, swallowing around the thick length of him, you feel hot tears running down your cheeks, sheer dumb animal reaction. You slip your other hand to cradle his slick balls, rolling them gently, the weight of them a little cooler than the rest of his body. He makes a strangled noise, an “Ohh fuck, baby, babydoll, so good for me, so good to me, fuck, fuck–!”

His stutter and his loss of control are just too much, finally, you feel the air of the apartment cool at the top of your slick thighs, your swollen cunt, and you have to do something about it. You take your hand from his balls and slide it up your skirt, slowly enough to feel your silk stockings under your fingertips, slow enough that Copia catches it.

Just as you register how fucking wet you are, his eyes go wide and his hips shudder, the smooth hot head of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

Your grip tightens on the base of his cock, a warning. You freeze, staring blank and unseeing at his soft belly, before looking up at him imploringly. “Okay,” he says, gentling you like a frightened horse. His big hand moving in your hair. “Okay. But baby,” he's nearly whining as you slowly suckle on the head of him, faint living salt in your mouth, “I know you want it, you’re too fucking good at that to not want it, I. Ohhh.” His hand grips tight in your hair as you swallow around him, thick and hot on your tongue. “Oh, fuck.”

You’re finding your pace on his cock again, a little faster, your hands working in time on his cock, on your clit. Freshly shaved like this, you’re fantastically, impossibly slippery. “Ohh, fuck. Oh, sweet Satan. Oh my dear Lord Below.” Copia absolutely doesn’t know what he’s saying, he so rarely gets outright religious on you. It’s an unspoken courtesy you’ve extended to each other, so to hear him break it sends a smug little charge through you. You whimper a little around his cock, give yourself a little more pressure on your clit. He can’t keep still, not all the way, even though you know he’s trying, making little aborted movements of his hips.

Copia swallows. It’s remarkable how you can see him trying to pull himself together. “Knew you loved this,” he says, his voice creaking. “Can’t be that good at something if you don’t love it. Didn’t know you loved it this much, gattina.” A little more pressure on the back of your skull, his nails scraping your scalp. He isn’t exactly holding you down, but he isn’t letting you pull off, either. “Never had my cock sucked this good, never even had a man suck my cock this good, thought I liked that better, before you came along. Had so many people suck this cock–” and that hurts, a hot bolt of pain and arousal that hits your heart and your clit at the same time. Your pace falters, and it must show, because Copia slows as well.

It’s a sore spot. You know that his own inverted form of celibacy in the Ministry included a certain implied… availability that could be, charitably, unpleasant for him at times. Clergy take no wives, no husbands, but give themselves freely to their congregation. You haven’t pushed him on the things that happened to him, he usually insists it was fine, expected, normal– but you generally have to go for a long walk and break something after you talk about it. You know, too, that he had positive experiences there, genuinely caring relationships. It doesn’t exactly help matters that your own knowledge of partnered sex, before Copia, falls radically short of the mean for someone in your age group.

All of that goes through your head in a flash, and he knows it, he can read you so well, even between one stroke of his cock and the next. “Only– didn’t know you’d have a natural talent at this.” Petting at you, soothing, his thumb moving tender on your cheekbone. “Remember, how I had to teach you how to kiss, those hours in the park.” You make a noise on him, not sure if this is helping. “Loved that, babydoll, loved doing that with you, teaching you, drove me wild.” He’s murmuring low to you, his voice a little rough, a little too exposed. “But I– I was ready for you to bite it off, the first time you went down.”

Awkward thing, laughing with a mouth full of dick. But he keeps going. “I didn’t know, my baby. I didn’t know how it could feel. Didn’t know how good it could be.” He twitches in your mouth, in time with a tiny movement of his hips, so warm and alive in you. “Taught you how to kiss, but babylove, I swear I felt like a virgin when you took me to bed.” His voice is low and wrecked for different reasons than it was before, and oh no, his eyes are wet.

You let go of him, turn your head to wipe your mouth on your shoulder, quick and perfunctory. You can't take your eyes from him. "Sug," you say, unsure how to continue, the twisting in your chest too much for words, beyond anything you could articulate with language. Your knees creak a little as you start to get up, to do what you don't know. Kiss him or touch him or say something, anything, to the way he's looking at you.

Copia pushes you back down, his hand heavy at the back of your neck. His thumb slots right at the base of your skull, right where he likes to keep it when he kisses you. “No, no, you’re too good at this, I wouldn’t interrupt an artist.” Back in some semblance of control. “You’re too good, you make me feel too good, show me. Will you--? Please, baby, will you show me how it can be good--?"

"Well," you say, pumping slow at his cock. "I can try." You press a tiny kiss to the head of him, too sweet for the situation, relishing the way he shivers. You take him in, how his hair is a disaster, sticking up in the back, his shirt open, your makeup smeared all over his face, his body, the parts of his thighs that you can reach. His pupils are blown wide, his eyes a little glazed, his lips swollen from the way you kissed them and the way he's bitten them. He's wrecked, and he's yours.

You love him. With all your heart, all your mind, and, you're afraid, all your soul. It hurts to look at him, you think he might sear your eyes right out of your skull.

You close your eyes against it, at how it stings, and nuzzle into the silky skin of his cock. Copia's belly is soft, warm, furred, delightfully sticky under your touch, as you run your hand up the front of him, up until you're cupping the sweet curve of his pectoral, until you can feel the cruel scar of his branding under the pads of your fingers. You trace over it, mapping the vector of those interlocking sixes. You feel his pulse under your palm, under your lips. You drag your mouth back and forth, just to feel the soft, delicately crenelated skin, the coolness of his flesh here soothing your feverishness.

Copia makes a tiny wounded noise as his hand presses over yours. As if he could press his heart into your hand. He’s better at language than you’ve ever been, but you can see it falter and fail for him. All you know how to do is– action. It feels inadequate, somehow.

Your dear man. He sees you, and raises your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles in a courtly gesture. It should be absurd, with you on your knees for him, with the delicate skin of his cock against your mouth. Somehow, it isn’t, the alchemy of his tenderness conveying exactly what he means. What you mean, with the most vulnerable part of him between your teeth. “D’you want me to take you to bed, babydoll?”

“No,” you say, pulling off of him long enough to murmur it against his slick head. “Later, maybe. If you’re up to it. Right now, I want–” It’s easier to wrap your lips around him again, to tell him that way. You’re more eloquent with your mouth this way than you ever were with language.

“Alright,” he says, almost a gasp, as he returns your hand to you. “Touch yourself for me?” Almost pleading. As if your pleasure were a favor to bestow on him. “I want– wanna see you get off, my baby, wanna see how much you love doing this. So fucking hot–” His voice breaks off into a whine as you pull him further into your mouth.

His big hand on your head, stroking your hair back, so sweetly. “Do you want me to be a little mean? I know you like that.”

You moan around his cock in an unmistakable affirmative, rut a little harder into your hand, plead with your eyes.

Copia’s smile turns sharp, wicked. “My perfect little cocksucker.” The deep affection in his voice belies the words. “Perfect little cumslut.” Your hand is already back between your legs, and you might– might– be moving your hips a little more theatrically than strictly necessary.

He holds the back of your neck, the base of your skull, his grip tight. Just this side of painful. “You know how to tap out. How to get me to stop.” He pushes you down on him as he tilts his hips up to you, not quite cutting off your air. “But you’re not gonna do that, are you?”

Copia licks his lips. He looks feverish, making shallow little thrusts into your mouth. “No, you. Ohh, you like this too much.” He’s so careful, even like this, testing just how hard he can thrust, finding your limit and pushing just past it before backing down. It makes you moan, makes you shiver, makes your hand speed up on your cunt in time with the way he’s pushing into your throat.

“Cruel to me,” he croons, as he uses your mouth. “Keeping that sweet little pussy from me.” He’s panting. “I can hear it, hear how wet you are.” As he says it, you realize you can, too, the wet noise in counterpoint to the sound of you working his cock. “M’gonna make you pay for it. Hope you’re ready, gonna eat you out till m’hard again.” He’s got both hands on your head now, and he’s too far into you for you to use your hand on him.

“You’ll. Hnn. You’ll need me to, to eat you out. Make you cum on my face.” If it weren’t for the sheer adoration in his eyes, this would be brutal, the way he’s pushing into your throat. The speed of your hand on your clit. Moving with him, point and counterpoint. “Fuck, I’m gonna wreck it, gonna split your pretty little cunt open– I’ll last longer, after I cum down your throat.” You whine around his cock, your cunt clenching on nothing, shivering against your hand.

Copia sounds like he’s in pain. It feels like he can’t stop himself, the way his hips are working. “Gattina,” he whines, helplessly. “Can’t– can’t last much longer, you looking at me like that.” You can feel him trembling under your touch. “D’you. You want it?” Movements a little more shallow, holding himself in check. “You want this cum in your mouth?” A rough, jagged thrust. “Little slut–!” he hisses, and he’s not quite too far gone to grin in smug delight at the way you moan in reaction.

“Gonna cum like this?” he croons, taunting. His white eye bores into you, too bright, and he looks crazed. Deranged. It’s almost frightening, the way you can’t look away from it. Your eyes burn, hot tears on your cheeks, and you couldn’t stop rubbing your cunt if you tried. The way he’s watching you, the way he sees just how turned on you are by him using you like this. Like it’s shameful. “From me fucking your slut mouth like a little cocksleeve.” His voice is creaking, nearly out of control. “You want this cum? You want it? Hmm?”

You’re hanging on by a thread, your nerves strung out like piano wire, helpless before him. Your jaw hurts, his hand so tight in your hair. “Then take it.” He’s beckoning you over the edge, chanting, rapt. “Take it, take my cum, take my fucking cum–” he rasps, knowing exactly what will set you off, will snap the bright line of you.

You see his smile as you break, whining around his cock. How he lights up at it, overjoyed, crooked and tender. You hold his eyes the whole time, giving him as much of it as you can, letting him see all of it, the shining abyssal affection that crashes through your body for him, catching your nerve endings like fire through tinfoil.

“Ohh–! Precious,” he says, almost crying, “my precious girl, my baby, my–” his voice breaks on your name, the syllables like a song, like a prayer, like something more than holy, like the shahada, like the shema, like it's the last thing that he knows. You never knew your name until he held it in his mouth like this, at the uttermost end of himself. He’s flooding over your tongue, slick and bitter. Like the first jet from the fountain in school, sun-warmed metal, iron from the earth, living water.

His cock jumps in your mouth, and you’re shaking, trembling through your aftershocks and his as you swallow all of him, pull all of him into you, watching his eyes and his blissed out expression until his voice does– something wrecked. “You–!” he gasps, delighted. “C’mere, come up here, you’re too– too far away–” he’s pulling at you, babbling, delirious, so soft now.

Copia’s pulling you up, into his arms, his lap, too quick for you to wipe his cum and your spit from your mouth. “Dunno if I like it, you that far away, wanna feel your pretty little body when you cum, you–” And then he’s kissing on you, shivering, laughing, little pecks along your jawline till he reaches your mouth. He makes a deep, appreciative groan when he tastes himself on your lips. He pulls back to look at you, almost scandalized in delight.

You have to laugh at him. For once you can’t be bothered to be self-conscious about it. “Oh, I do like that,” he murmurs, almost to himself, before he dives back in, like he has to get all of it. You’re still shaky, a fine shiver all down your spine. He’s almost clumsy, licking into your mouth, a real rarity for him. You try not to feel too smug about it.

You can’t stop smiling, when you finally get your mouth back. “Acceptable, then?”

“So good. Every time, I can’t believe–” he’s nuzzling at you, his nose against yours, totally uninhibited in his affection. “So perfect, so sweet, love you so much, thank you, thank you, baby–” Nonsense babble. Incoherently effusive. He scoops your legs across his lap and runs his hands over all of your skin that he can reach. “Perfetta…sei perfetta. Angioletto,” he murmurs, and you shiver. You haven’t heard that one in a while. “Angioletto mio,” he’s saying, into your hair, your skin, and it’s rare that you blow him all the way back to Italian. “Sei tutto ciò che voglio del Paradiso.” You’re a little too fucked-out to parse that all the way, but it still snags in your heart a little.

(He knows, usually, how you still aren’t used to being loved on this much. You know he restrains himself, tries not to overwhelm you. It breaks your heart, sometimes, when you see him hold himself back, even as his consideration makes you warm.)

Now, though, it’s good. It’s perfect. His pants are half off, his dick out, ridiculous. You think you might have snapped a garter, and you definitely put ladders in these stockings. You couldn’t give less of a shit. You loop your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck, letting out a deep, contented sigh.

Copia’s still petting you– appropriate enough. You feel like a cat in a sunbeam, even supremely disheveled like this.

He squeezes you lightly, again, and makes a little noise in the back of his throat. “The, enh– the talking. It wasn’t too much?” Like he’s shy, all of a sudden.

“Noo!” You have to pull back to look up at him. “No, holy shit, sweetness, it was inspired. Even for you! Hot damn, baby. ‘Cocksleeve,’ where did that come from?”

“Ehh– a couple of times, there, I’m, ah. Not even sure I remember what I was saying.” Is he blushing? It’s adorable.

“No, it was great. I’d tell you if it weren’t, honeybunch.” You lean your head back against him, boneless and warm all the way through. “Naw, this was awesome. Ten outta ten, go Team Us.” You hold up your hand for a high-five, and your sweet man, he’ll never leave you hanging– the slap rings loud through your living room.

He tilts his head back onto the couch, looking up at the Devil’s Ivy crawling over your bookshelves. “Although,” he says, slow, considering. “I do seem to recall that I promised you I was gonna make you cum on my face.”

“And split my pussy open,” you remind him. “Or was you writing checks your dick can’t cash?”

“Babydoll, don’t you know by now?” He’s turning back to look at you, his mismatched eyes full of predatory adulation. “The Devil always keeps his promises.”

188 notes · View notes

bupia · 1 year ago

Text

Treasure hunt: Papa Emeritus IV x AFAB!Reader

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

Words: 10.152

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

Available on AO3

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What have you been doing there?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you too," you whispered

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you," you said, with gratitude.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good night, Papa," you replied.

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

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

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

"Of course, I wouldn't forget."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Copia smirked, "You want more?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you more," you playfully countered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grammar

Amore (mio) - My love

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

Ti amo così tanto - I love you so much

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

Fratello - Brother

Stai zitto - Be quiet

Vecchi - Old

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

Vero - True

Sì - Yes

Certo - Certainly

Non preoccuparti - Don't worry

Buona notte - Good night

Bene, molto bene - Well, very well

Buona fortuna - Good luck

Vita mia - My life

Vieni qui, amore mio - Come here, my love

Capito? - Understood?

Comportati - Behave

426 notes · View notes

her-satanic-wiles · 1 year ago

Text

October 10th

Praise Kink, Cardinal Copia x Plus Size!Reader

Previous Day | Next Day

Masterlist

Words: 4.9k

Warnings: Praise kink (going both ways); hurt/comfort; age gap; mentions of poor mental health; friends to lovers; unprotected sex; body worship; fingering; fellatio; nipple play; piv sex; plus size!reader; mentions of fatphobia; this is very self-indulgent; cockwarming;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

“Please, sweetheart, open the door.” You pleaded. Your forehead rested against the front door of Cardinal Copia’s small room, your hand stroking the wood in desperation to reach your closest friend who had locked himself inside and was sobbing on the floor. You had been alerted to his distress by his only assistant ghoul, Aurora, who was struggling to gain access to his room and knew you would be the only one who had a chance in Hell at getting in. You could hear his cries of despair and each one shattered your heart a little more.

Copia was your best friend, which from the outside looking in seemed a little strange. There was a mighty age gap between you both, and you hardly worked together, but something clicked for the two of you that one random chance you met, and you both simply couldn’t stay away. Rather like a cliché, somewhere along the lines you had developed feelings for him. He was pathetic, painfully introverted and shy, but he was the goodest of eggs, the sweetest of men, and insanely smart. His childish sense of humour resonated with you, and his inappropriate jokes were just what the doctor ordered. Neither of you truly fit in at the Ministry, not in the way other Siblings or Clergy Members did. The only reason why you both stayed was because of your devotion to the church. But Copia was worse off than you were. Everyone here, especially the Siblings, very much had a high-school mentality when it came to the Cardinal - and only the Cardinal. You would often catch their looks of disgust when he walked passed them, or hear the snidest of comments when he wasn’t around. You were aware of how they treated him, and tried your best to get more people to get to know him and keep their mouths shut. But some people refused to be swayed.

You didn’t know what had him so upset, but you had a hunch. You were just praying you were wrong.

The Cardinal was unlucky when it came to love. Most people rejected him, or sneered and turned away. But there was one of the Sisters of Sin who really captured the Cardinal’s attention, and you knew he was going to make an attempt to ask her out. You just hoped that it wasn’t today.

“Copia?” You pleaded again. “Please open the door.” You knocked gently. “Let me in?”

Though the sounds of his painful sobs remained, you heard shuffling underneath that. The door unlocked, giving you the opportunity to step back so you wouldn’t crowd him in his emotional state, and waited for him to open the door to you. And when he did, he looked much worse than anticipated.

The black paint around his eyes that signified his station in the Clergy had almost completely washed away from the tears he’d shed. Instead, they were running like black streams down his long face. The black upper lip he had had also been bitten away, and smeared across his face. His moustache was somewhat damp with both his snot and some of his tears. His eyes were red and puffy, and tears were still coming out. He was, for lack of a better term, a total mess.

Without hesitation and despite him being a little taller than you, you scooped him up into a tight hug, pulling him against your soft body and letting his head fall to your shoulders. He wept uncontrollably into the crook of your neck. He gripped onto your waist as tightly as he could, as though you were going to disappear on him the second he let go. While he was still attached to you, you managed to enter his room and close the door behind you, giving him the privacy he needed. Your hands, now free moved to cradle him, stroking his salt and pepper hair and providing as much comfort as you possibly could.

You stayed like that in the entrance for quite some time, until his sobs quietened to mere hiccups and his tears had saturated your habit. It was always better for him to get his emotions out before finding out what got him into that state. Now that he’d calmed down, he would be able to answer your questions. You both moved over to his single bed and sat down together. “What happened?” You asked, handing him a tissue from his bedside table and holding his gloved hand.

“Sh-she rejected me.”

Ah, so it was the Sister…

“Oh, honey. I’m sorry. She doesn’t deserve you.” He always rolled his eyes when you told him that as if he didn’t believe you - and it usually was because he didn’t believe you.

“But she was kind about it.” He blew his nose. “She held my hands, looked me in my eyes. She apologised! She told me that any woman would be lucky to have me, but the honour wouldn’t fall to her, as flattered as she was! She hoped I would find someone better than her. Can you imagine?”

That hit like a knife to your chest. But this wasn’t about you. You had to keep reminding yourself the feelings were not mutual.

Copia continued, “I was human to her, ___. That’s what made it worse.” His face scrunched up as if he was about to start crying again and your hand gripped his tighter as if to bring him back into reality. He nodded. “Grazie. It hurts when they treat me badly, of course. But I come to expect cruelty with the rejection now. When they treat me like a rat I know what to do. B-but this?” His bottom lip quivered. “What am I to do with this?”

You switched positions a little, taking his hand in your left and wrapping your right around his body, holding him close to you in a semi-side hug. You rest your head on his shoulder and allowed your thumbs to gently caress his body. You didn’t say anything to him - you just listened. Besides, what was there to say? You weren’t even sure how to proceed with this. Usually, their cruelty meant that you could give your true feelings about them and remind him what awful people they were and that he dodged a bullet. He was able to get over the rejection within a week at most. But no bullets were dodged with this sister. She was kind to him when no one else was. She was gentle and sweet. No wonder he was having such a tough time.

He chuckled. “I am pathetic, sì? I should not cry over such things.”

“Hey,” you lifted your head to look at him, “never say that again.”

“Why? It is true. It was stupid of me to believe anyone as beautiful as she would like me back. Look at me: I am middle-aged, weedy, ugly and pathetic. How am I to find someone better than her? When most other people are worse than she is and still will not even look at me without disdain. Perhaps it would be best if I were not here.”

“It’s not true. You’re not pathetic. You’re not any of the things anyone says about you. Copia, look at me.” His eyes remained on the ground in refusal. “Please look at me.” He wasn’t emotionally capable of looking at you, but he needed to in order for you to get your point across. In desperation, you got on your knees on the floor in front of him and placed your hands on his thighs, unthinking in your movements. Your habit, much longer than usual due to the cold, spread out regally across the floor and encircled you. Copia looked at you now, but his eyes were a little wider than normal.

“You listen to me, you are wonderful,” you grabbed his gloved hands and held them tightly, “smart, and incredibly beautiful. You may not be everyone’s cup of tea, Copia, but you will be someone’s. I appreciate you so much, and I’m so fucking thankful that you are here. I’m so grateful that I have a friend as good as you every day. I thank Satan every time I pray for bringing you into my life. I love you.”

Perhaps your confession wasn’t said with as much honesty as you wanted it to be. The amount of love you felt for him played down by your fear of losing him. But the eye contact and the position you were in must have reached him. You must have.

His hand untangled itself from yours and cupped your cheek, his mismatched and teary eyes looking at yours. “Grazie, schricchio. This foolish old man does not deserve you.”

Your hand moved to his wrist and gripped on, once again allowing your thumbs to caress the back of his hand. “Yes, you do. I wish you could see yourself as I see you: how perfectly wonderful you are even with any flaws you have. There are fewer flaws than you think. Society is the one with the problem, not you.”

This was something you knew all too well being much bigger than the average woman in the Ministry. Even in a Satanic church where everything was meant to be the polar opposite of the Catholic church, you still found prejudice amongst your Siblings. You weren’t held in quite so much disdain as “the Creepy Cardinal”, but you knew all about how inhumanely Copia was treated because you had experienced yourself on many occasions. The over-sexualisation of your body while also having people call you disgusting and cruel names. Not having men look you in the eye when they had a conversation with you lest they be scruitinised by their peers. The way that Siblings would avoid performing rituals with you for the very same reason. The few friends you made, the comments that were thrown your way. ‘You’d be so much prettier if you lost that weight.’ ‘It’s unhealthy to be your size.’ The constant beration and bullying; it was so much to experience on a daily basis. Copia became your safe haven, your quiet and comforting place. He was always appreciative of you, loved to see you, spend time with you. He, unlike some of your previous friends and lovers, was unashamed to be seen with you in public. And all of this was because he knew what it was like firsthand to be on the edge of society and treated like dog shit. And every time you saw him defeated, it smashed a piece of your soul.

Copia, by this point, had stopped crying and all that remained were little sad sniffles, but his mismatched eyes never left yours. “You are too good to me, schricchio.” He gave you a faint smile, as if to imply he was playing. But there was too much seriousness in his voice to be anywhere near a jest.

“You deserve the world and more.” You kissed the palm of his hand where it was still resting on your cheek. “I’m sorry other people don’t think the same.”

“Perhaps when the Sister was telling me there is someone better than her, she was talking about you? I always have you at my side to give me strength when I need it. If we were not in the Devil’s church, I’d think you an angel.”

“Shut up.”

“No, it is true. Your Cardinal wouldn’t lie to you, no?”

“It depends - he may have an ulterior motive. Like getting me to stop talking so he can continue his self-loathing in peace.”

Copia chuckled, “She is too smart for her own good.” His eyes remained watery but gentle. “Grazie, schricchio. It seems the world treats us both poorly.” He leant down and gave you a kiss on your forehead, something he usually saved for your lowest days. There was something different about the way this kiss felt, though - something peculiar in the way he let his lips linger a little longer than usual. The way he didn’t move back right away, instead resting his forehead on yours. You opened your own eyes to see that his were still closed. Despite the way his makeup ran, you still thought he was so, insanely handsome.

“Come on, Cardinal, let’s get you cleaned up.”

You took his hand and led him to the bathroom, placing him on the closed lidded toilet and ordering him to close his eyes. You went in with a cleanser, the exact balm you recommended him to use and gently rubbed it over his face, melting away his makeup and sadness. This was incredibly intimate for best friends, you were both well aware of it, but there was something necessary about it especially when you were both so emotionally wounded. Like the forehead kisses, this was reserved only for the days when you both felt the most broken and needed connection. It had become one of your favourite things to do with him, because it truly allowed you to study his features without being seen as creepy or weird. His large nose, his pink lips, the light brown of his eyebrows that was always hidden beneath the darkest of panda eyes. His forehead creases and deep-set laughter lines that showed despite his trauma, he still found a way to smile. His quirky little moustache that was taken directly out of an 80s porno, complete with bushman sideburns that on anyone else would look ridiculous, but it suited him indubitably. He very much had the same features as the little rats he adored, along with his skin beginning to show his age. These were all things that made him uniquely Copia, and all of the things you fell in love with aside from his personality.

Of course, when you had him like this, it was also customary to play with him a little even if it was just to coax a small smile out of him. You placed a washcloth, warm and wet from the water over his face and left it there, announcing “done”, when you’d let go. He’d berate you back, telling you this was the worst spa he’d ever been to and that he’d never return, but once he’d washed away the grease and the grime of the day, he looked at you with a very pink, but very clean face. “Ta-da!”

“Handsome as always.”

He placed his hand on your cheek once more. “Grazie, schricchio.”

You leant into his touch, savouring the feeling of it but wishing you could get closer. Wordlessly, you took his hand in yours and began removing his gloves. Gently pulling each finger so that the whole thing would be removed easier. Once both gloves were off, you took his hand and put it back on your cheek, wrapping your own around it and enjoying the feel of his soft flesh against your own.

Copia, mustering all the confidence he didn’t think he had, brought your face closer to his once more, his breath tickling your lips. It was almost as if he was expecting you to pull away, like he was giving you the option to, but once it had been made apparent you were going to stay in your position, he finally closed the gap. Your heart leapt out of your chest when his lips made contact with yours - the touch was light and barely there, filled entirely with the fear that you might jump back in disgust and chide him for his actions. But he’d opened up the floodgates now, and there was no stopping either of you.

From that moment on, your kisses increased in desperation. He poured out the trauma of the past three hours, you draining your years of unrequited love into the heavy breaths and connection, the intensity increasing the longer you spent joined together. His hands came to your soft waist, and pulled you impossibly close to him, leaving not a scrap of room for a sheet of paper to be wedged in between you. Your own hands travelled to his hair, gripping on the roots for purchase and to keep yourself grounded as best as you could. Whimpers and moans left the both of you when your tongues were brought in to dance. He pushed you against the bathroom counter, pinning you against it and tightening his grip. He pulled away from your lips, but only a little. When he spoke, you could still feel his lips brushing against yours. “T-tell me to stop and I will.” He told you, his breath heavy and his voice barely above a whisper. “But you have to tell me now, amore mio, because once I start, I will never be able to stop. I’ll want you for eternity after tonight. Even in our deaths my soul will search for yours relentlessly. Do you want me to stop?”

“No. I need this. I need you.”

He wasted no more time in connecting his lips to yours once more, this time with more fervour and passion than you ever thought possible. The way he crowded you onto the bathroom cabinet had you lifting yourself up onto it, spreading your legs for him to slot in between them. His lips moved from yours, and he placed chaste kisses along your jawline to your neck, making you giggle a little at the feel of his moustache tickling you. Even though it was a jerk reaction, it still felt incredibly good. His hand moved up your skirts, gliding along your tights and reaching the waistband, pulling them and your panties down with the utmost gentility despite his ever growing desire for you. Your very core now exposed to him, but you felt no embarrassment, no shame, no shyness. The hand that was under your skirts now moved to your vulva and you felt his index finger running through the wetness of your folds. You gasped when he began to play with your clit.

Simultaneously, his mouth nibbled at your ear in between his words. “I never believed I could have you. Never did I think this could happen. I have waited for you for so long now, amore mio. You are everything to me. You are the whole world and everything in it, my reason for living.” He slipped his middle and ring finger inside of you, tapping upwards immediately and hitting that sweet spot over and over again. His fingers had you whimpering. “You are the brightness of the sun and my reason for waking in the morning. You are the calm of the moon and the reason for my serenity. Venus herself is in envy and awe of your beauty. Nothing of this world, of the human mind, could ever come close to your radiance.”

“Copia!”

His words caused an extra fluttering in your stomach when he spoke them, coupled with the feeling of his fingers deep inside you, his thumb working your clit alongside the two that were working invisibly had your entire body shuddering. Your nipples stood erect inside your bra, nudged sometimes by the movement of his body and giving you that extra feeling of overwhelming pleasure. Your mind was numb, filled with nothing but Copia. The low timbre of his voice in your ear, the smell of his cologne, his soft jawline against your cheek. He was everywhere all at once overwhelming you and bathing you in him. “Bene mio.” My happiness. His lips found yours again, his tongue begging for entrance to your mouth as he kissed you feverishly. His fingers working in tandem to bring you over the edge. When you fell, you fell hard. Your toes curling, your eyes seeing white, your breath escaping your body. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he worked you through it, muttering more unintelligible words into your skin that your ears couldn’t understand. Your body felt them though, and came alive at the touch. “Sono innamorato di te.” He told you. He was desperately, undeniably, helplessly in love with you.

You clasped onto his cheeks and pulled him in for a kiss. His hands, sodden with your cum moved towards your lips once the kiss had finished and you sucked on his fingers, cleaning yourself off of them and earning a gutteral groan in the process. Copia’s cock stood erect in the tightness of his jeans beneath his cassock, barely protruding through the thick material. It was time to show him some mercy and love too. “My beautiful Copia. The kindest man I’ve ever known.” With your own lips attached to the crook of his neck, you began undressing him, sliding his cassock off his shoulders and dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. “You are my reason for living, too. I should have told you sooner but I was too afraid of losing you.” Your hands flew to the waistband of his pants and untied them.

“You could never lose me, amore mio.”

“I know that now. But I didn’t ever want to live a life without you, however small the possibility.” You slipped down off the counter and got on your knees in front of him, the earlier image replaying in Copia’s mind. His hand immediately flew to your hair but his grip tightened when you released his cock from his jeans and gave him a tentative stroke. “I love everything about you,” you licked from base to tip, “your voice,” another lick, “your body,” another, “your brain.” You swirled your tongue around the head, touching repeatedly over his frenulum causing him to hiss. You focused mainly on the head, your own experiences telling you that was generally the most sensitive part, and Copia’s voice and actions confirming. Though his hand was on your head, it was only to keep him cognizant. He wasn’t forcing you to take him deeper like your previous lovers, nor did he guide you at all. You looked up at him through your lashes and saw that his eyes were tight shut. “Look at me, Copia. Watch me on my knees for you, worship you.”

“Amore, I can’t. I will cum too quickly.”

You licked his tip once more. “That’s okay.”

“It’s not. There are more things I wish to do with you tonight.”

His precum was beading at the tip again, and you used your hands to squeeze it into your mouth. Copia watched and pulled completely away from you, almost finishing at the sight of it. “No. Let me take you to bed. If you stay down there a moment longer, I’ll ruin it.”

You stood and kissed him. “You could never.”

He grabbed your hand and took you back into the bedroom, taking the opportunity once you’d arrived to stand and unbutton your habit from behind you. His hands roamed and groped your body as they worked at removing your clothes. He traced every curve he could find, every dip, every bump. When your skin was on display he did the same thing, learning about your body and mapping it out. Your bra was removed quickly so he could admire your breasts and play with your nipples. All the while his lips licked and sucked on your neck, decorating the pristine skin with his marks. He wanted to show the world what he’d done to you, like he was an artist proud of his work. “On the bed, amore mio.” He instructed. You did as he asked and lay on your back, watching him remove his jeans and underwear. All clothes were discarded carelessly on the ground. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

He clambered onto the bed, hovering above your legs. He took his time, tracing his lips from your shins, your thick thighs, your pubic mound, your stomach. He took his time over your nipples, giving them both the proper attention they deserved before he moved up to your neck and finally your lips. He kissed you deeply, passionately, his hands grasping onto your plump hips as his dick needily rubbed against your clit.

No words were exchanged when you felt his cock enter you, stretching you out obscenely to the point where you felt like you’d burst. You broke the kiss, your eyes squeezing tightly shut and your mouth opening in a silent scream. Your entire body felt electrified - your hairs standing on end. Just being cloaked in him, pinned beneath him had you seeing stars, but now he was entering you - finally. He felt incredible, he was incredible.

“No, amore,” you heard him say when he was halfway inside you, his fingers came to caress your cheek once more, “look into my eyes. Look at me while I stretch you.” You obeyed, your eyes locking onto his mismatched ones. Only when he had your complete attention did he continue sinking into you. “Brava ragazza. Take it all like a good girl. Cazzo! So fucking tight.”

You were constricting around him making it damn near impossible for him to breathe. You couldn’t breathe either. “You’re so b-big!” You told him, trying to fight to speak.

He reached the hilt and stayed still, giving you the opportunity to pepper kisses all over his face in your need to be close to him again. Both of your hands were clasped to his cheeks as your lips roamed, yet somehow he still felt too far away. “Sathanas - I can’t move.”

You giggled. “Take your time, my love. You’ve filled me so much, it feels so good.”

He jerked his hips forward. “Merda! Don’t do that. I’m trying not to finish.” There was a big smile on his face as he said it though.

You placed his hand on the bottom of your stomach. “It’s like I can feel you here. You’re so deep.”

His hips moved on their own accord again, but this time he didn’t stop them. His thrusts were shallow and tentative at first, but the more confident he became, the more intense he moved. All of his thrusts hit your cervix causing you to involuntarily cry out each time. He was so deep, filling you in a way you knew you’d become obsessed with. One of your hands was resting near your head, and Copia took the opportunity to grab it and interlock your fingers together. “You’re doing such a good job, my love.” Your voice was breathy as you spoke, so worn out you hardly recognised it. The praise caused Copia to startle forwards and really slam into you. It felt divine. “Copia! Fuck! Do that again.”

“This?” He pulled all the way out and slammed back in.

“Yes! Fuck!”

He did it again.

And again.

Hitting that spot at the front of your cervix so well. “This is what you wanted, right?” He asked, repeating that motion. Your hand flew down to your clit, your middle finger working away at it quickly in the feral need you had to cum around his cock. He sat back onto his knees to gain more leverage, taking in the sight of you touching yourself while speared on his dick. Every time he entered you, your entire body jiggled with the force. He couldn’t help the noise he made when he saw you for the first time, spread out, pliant and ricocheting off his every move. “Sei così bagnata! You’re so wet. You feel so fucking good!”

“Don’t stop! Please, Copia! Don’t stop!”

“You like that?”

“I’m gonna cum so fucking hard. Please!”

“Vieni per me, amore.” Cum for me, love.

At his request, you shattered. Your back arched off the bed. Somehow your nails found his thigh and scratched down it in an attempt to grasp onto the bedsheets. This, in turn, caused Copia to thrust forward again intensifying the feeling. “I got you. That’s it. Such a good girl for me.”

“Fucking hell!” You finally gasped when you came down from your high. You were lightheaded and it felt like the room was spinning, but your body was on fire. Copia had stopped moving to make sure you were okay. He leant forward and placed another kiss to your forehead before resting his against yours once more. This time he looked directly into your eyes. “Hi.” You whispered, grinning like a lovesick fool.

“Hi.” He copied you.

“Did you-?”

“Not yet, amore mio.”

“Will you cum for me, my love?”

“Are you okay to continue?”

“Of course.”

He nodded and began thrusting again. His movements were deliberately gentle after the intensity of your orgasm but with some reassurance that you were okay, he picked up the pace again. This time he was focusing on his own pleasure, wanting to end your sensitivity and finish quickly. But it seemed like he was too in his head. “You fill me so good, Copia.” You told him. “No one has ever made me feel like this before.”

“N-no?”

“You’re the only one who made me cum. I came so fucking hard because of you. You made me feel incredible.”

“Cazzo!”

“Such a good boy for me.”

“I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum! C-can I cum inside? Please!”

“Cum inside me. Let it all out, sweetheart. That’s it.”

With the final thrust, he emptied himself inside you, painting your walls with his seed. His cock was still buried so deep inside you but his orgasm made him try and get deeper. His head fell onto your chest when he collapsed onto you, a sweaty, exhausted mess but so blissfully fucked out. Your hands immediately went to his hair, stroking through his locks and providing him extra comfort after all the exertion. He tried to pull out of you once he realised the position, but you stopped him from moving, instead turning his head up and kissing him again. Your kisses were short but many, passionate but sleepy. “My Cardinal,” you muttered, “My Copia. I love you.”

“I love you.” He told you. “I always will.”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

584 notes · View notes

deakyjoe · 6 months ago

Text

Arranged & Absolute

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

Category: arranged marriage, smut

Summary: To strengthen his new position as Papa, Copia agrees to marry someone he’s never met.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected p in v sex, desk sex, you get cum on the paperwork, vaginal fingering, grinding/dry humping, kissing, groping, arranged marriage, unspecified age gap, awkward first meeting, Sister Imperator being a supportive mother (but not because Copia doesn’t know she’s his mother), dead Papas (all of them, even Nihil), guilt, self esteem issues, parental issues, loneliness, poorly translated Italian, reader vaguely described as being shorter than Copia but nothing else, let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 6.9k

A/N: I chose the gif specifically because he looks hot in it. This fic went from “huh maybe one day I could write about an arranged marriage thing with Copia but I don’t know what exactly yet since I don’t have any solid ideas” to “what the fuck have I done” in the space of less than 24 hours! Enjoy!

Consider buying me a coffee :)

Copia had thought it was a stupid idea. But Sister Imperator had insisted. So here he was. On his wedding day. Having never met his bride.

His foot tapped against the floor at a rapid pace, nerves radiating out of him, as he stood at the head of the chapel and watched the guests flood in to take their seats. He didn't fail to notice that almost everybody there was there for him, so many of them arriving in fact that they had to start sitting on the pews that were supposed to be reserved for your friends, family and kin. But he knew you'd travelled a long way, practically the only information he knew about you, so maybe no one from your home was willing to make the journey. Still, Copia found it sad.

Sister Imperator stood at his side, attempting to be supportive. "Calm down. The ceremony will go smoothly."

That wasn't what he was worried about. He knew the wedding itself would go smoothly, Sister would make sure of it, but everything else about it seemed all wrong. For starters, he'd never met his future wife. Which was bad enough by itself. But what if you hated him? From what he'd understood, you weren't too thrilled about the pairing either but your father had managed to convince you. Copia had met your father at least but he wasn't a particularly nice man.

When Imperator had initially come to Copia with the idea he'd laughed it off thinking it was a joke. An arranged marriage in the 21st century? And in the Satanic church where they encouraged freedom of all places? He thought it was nonsense. But then when she'd explained that a well thought out match would be put in place to strengthen his new title of Papa Emeritus IV... he started to realise that she was being serious.

He'd refused at first, saying that his position was enough. He was Papa now. And there was no taking that away, especially with his three predecessors dead and Nihil also in the grave. Who was there to question his authority? But Imperator pointed out his lack of legitimacy, he wasn't really an Emeritus, and how Papa Nihil had been reluctant to let him be the face of the clergy when he was still a mere Cardinal. Then he saw the cracks in his status.

So he agreed. A spouse would be found for him, to stand by his side and bring more power to his Papacy. He'd only allowed himself a brief second of panic when Imperator had mentioned in passing the need for an heir.

Copia looked at Sister, who had changed out of the usual skirt suit she wore and had chosen to adorn a dress in a nice green colour that suited her. Despite insisting that the whole thing was a formality, Copia appreciated her effort in making the day nice. "What if she doesn't like me?"

The older woman's face softened for a moment, how hadn't she realised that was what he was nervous about? He was a sensitive soul after all, constantly seeking approval. "She will adore you, C. Don't worry."

Copia looked down at his outfit, what if he wasn't dressed well enough? First impressions mattered after all. And the paints on his face itched more than usual. What if they started sweating off? But it was too late to dwell on that now. The last few people settled in the pews and silence descended over the chapel. It was time.

The large double doors at the back of the room swung open with a creak and the quartet in the corner started playing, what Copia believed to be, some sort of twist on the wedding march. He froze as his eyes landed on you, the reality of the situation dawning on him fully and sending him into a spiral. He was about to marry somebody he'd never met.

He tried not to let it show as you started walking towards him down the aisle, a train of lace following you. Nobody was walking you to him, ready to give you away, he noticed. Your father hadn't come to the wedding? Copia drank you in, the black wedding dress sweeping down the curves of your body and the matching veil covering your face. At least he had a moment to compose himself before he had to make eye contact with you.

You walked quickly, like you wanted to get the whole thing over and done with, and you were stood at the base of the steps in front of Copia before he could blink twice. He offered a gloved hand to you to help you up, which you took after a brief moment of staring at it through your veil. Copia squeezed it gently, hoping to offer some support and solidarity. He didn't know if it translated well.

And then you were in front of him, and the ceremony was beginning.

Imperator coughed quietly behind him. "C, the veil."

"Oh." He gasped and reached up the take the bottom of it in his fingertips, pausing for a second to allow you a moment to stop him if you wanted, before lifting it and pushing it back over your head.

The moment he met your eyes, Copia felt all oxygen leave his body. You were beautiful.

You sent him a nervous smile. "Hi."

Your voice was barely a whisper, so small and worried, that he barely heard you.

"Hi." He replied, sending a smile of his own and taking your hands in his.

Sister Imperator relaxed behind him, she could tell that he was smitten with you already. She’d chosen well.

The officiant ran through the ceremony with ease, the two of you repeating all the necessary parts when needed. Then suddenly it was over, the 'I do's' were said, rings were exchanged and Copia was a married man.

"You may kiss the bride." The officiant said.

Copia looked at you for confirmation that it was okay and when you gave a small nod of approval, he shuffled towards you and rested a gloved hand on your cheek. You leaned in first, which he was glad for as he felt as if his heart was about to beat up and out of his mouth, and met him halfway. Your lips pressed together for a second or two before the both of you pulled away with shy smiles.

The room cheered, a clear mix of real elation and dubious celebration. It wasn't a love match after all. But Copia didn't care, he had high hopes about the pairing now. You seemed nice enough and he found you breathtaking, he just hoped you could feel a fraction of the same about him. Which he feared you didn't, what could he possibly offer you?

The thoughts left him as Sister Imperator patted him on the back. "Well done, C."

"Thank you." He nodded at her before looking back towards you again.

Imperator looked at you as well. "And congratulations, it's lovely to finally meet you."

"Thank you, Sister. My father speaks very highly of you." You bowed your head at her before glancing at your new husband. "I think we're supposed to run out of here now. Like the wild newlyweds people expect to see."

Copia grinned, liking your attitude, and nodded his head in agreement. "That is exactly what people expect, shall we?”

You took the hand he offered to you and the two of you trotted down the few steps before speeding towards the doors of the chapel. People shouted words of praise and felicitations as you passed them which you could only smile at in return.

Once the both of you had burst out of the exit and the doors had swung shut behind you, a moment of peace was found. You turned to each other breathless, bashful looks gracing your faces.

“Hi.” You said, louder than the first time at the altar.

“Hi.” He repeated back to you. “You look beautiful in your dress, by the way.”

“Oh, thank you.” You looked down at the garment before looking back at him. “You look handsome too. I like your jacket.”

“This old thing?” Copia replied before wincing. Why did he make it seem like he’d worn an old jacket for his wedding?

But you didn’t seem to notice his slip up as you continued to smile at him. “What happens now?”

“I believe Sister Imperator has organised a banquet for us.” He pulled you closer to him as guests started to file out of the chapel and guided you in the direction of the ballroom.

“A banquet? That’s pretty fancy.” You chimed, looping your arm through his so the two of you could walk together.

“She pulled out all the stops.” Copia looked over at you, surprised at how well you seemed to be taking it all. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” You glanced over your shoulder at the crowd of people that was emerging steadily. “Can we just walk a little faster? I don’t want to be bombarded by all those people just yet.”

“Sì, sì.” He increased his pace, making sure you were tightly secured to his side the whole time. “What made you agree to this marriage? I heard at first that you said no.”

“Ah.” You paused. “I did say no at first. Nothing personal against you, I promise.”

“We did not know each other. It’s okay.” He assured before letting you carry on.

“I didn’t want to marry a stranger. But I did want to escape my father. You know who he is, correct?”

Copia nodded. “I’ve met him.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry.” You winced. “He’s not a nice man. But holds a high position in the clergy. I’m his only child, you see. And he’s always drilled into me that I am useless because I am a daughter. What use is a daughter? I cannot be an heir and inherit anything from him.”

“That’s not true!” He gasped. “The clergy dictates that-“

You cut him off by laying a hand on his arm. “It’s not the clergy’s doing. It’s my father’s. It’s okay, I grew used to his archaic ways. Anyway he said the only good I would be was marrying me off. At first I said no because I thought he was going to marry me off to an old, ugly man who was unkind. Then he told me that you seemed sensitive when he met with you which translates to nice. And he also told me that no Emeritus has ever been ugly. I believed him. He used to keep a portrait of Papa Emeritus III before he died so I knew there was some truth in that at least.”

Copia’s stomach twisted at the reminder of Terzo’s death, a sense of guilt still ate away at him when he thought about him and his older brothers. But he didn’t let it show in front of you. “Well, I am glad that you decided to believe that I was not unkind nor ugly. However, considering you didn’t mention anything about me not being old I am going to assume that you consider me to be ancient.”

You gasped out a laugh. “I didn’t say that!”

“You didn’t need to. It was implied.” He laughed along with you as you reached the ballroom, pushing the door open to allow you to go in first. When he joined your side again, he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his mouth as you linked your arm with his again.

“Wow.” You mumbled as you took in the expanse of the room. “You weren’t kidding when you said Sister Imperator pulled out all the stops.”

Copia led you over to the table designed for the newlywed couple. It held four chairs. One for him, one for you, one for Sister, and one meant for your father. He guessed that chair would remain empty for the evening.

You made no comment on it as you took your seat, watching your new husband closely as he sat next to you. “What about you? What made you agree to this marriage?”

He sighed deeply before looking at you. “I feared my place as Papa would be easy to shake. I didn’t inherit it officially through the Emeritus line like my predecessors. Marrying a family member of a high upper clergy member is meant to solidify my status.”

“Ah, a power play.” You nodded.

“Yes, a power play.” He frowned at that term. “But I only agreed once Sister promised she would find me a good match.”

“And what constitutes as a good match to you?” You asked, wondering what he’d requested in a wife.

A smile lit up his face. “The gorgeous woman who is sitting in front of me.”

“Smooth.” You replied, reminding yourself to interrogate him on the topic later.

Guests started flooding in, finding their seats at the various tables that filled the room. You just watched with barely concentrated attention.

You turned to Copia once the room was about three quarters of the way full. “How many of these people do you actually know?”

“I recognise most of them. I would say I probably know a third of them personally.” He shrugged. “How many do you know?”

“None of them.” You shrugged. “I didn’t have any guests come.”

“What? None of them?” He couldn’t quite believe that. He’d assumed that the people he didn’t recognise were your half of the wedding party.

“I don’t know many people back home. Those I do know… I wouldn’t want them here.” Your nose scrunched at the memory, the people you’d grown up around were not people you needed ruining what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

Copia looked at you sadly for a moment, wondering whether you were upset by the ordeal. But you seemed fine. “Well, now you have me.”

You looked at him, surprised, before a gentle smile settled on your face. “Now I have you.”

He returned the smile, picking up your hand and placing a soft kiss on the back of it. He mumbled an apology when he noticed the black kiss print he’d left on the skin there. You stopped him when he reached for a napkin to wipe it away, insisting he leave it there.

The moment was disrupted by Sister Imperator collapsing into the seat next to Copia. “You two seem to be getting along well.”

You exchanged a slightly giddy look with Copia before looking back at the older woman.

“We are.” He clarified. “You matched us well.”

“Knew I would.” She said smugly before looking at the empty chair next to you. “Your father did not attend.”

It was a statement more than a question.

A neutral smile settled over your lips, like you were prepared to discuss this. “No. I didn’t want him here. He didn’t want to be here. It was an easy enough decision.”

Imperator respected that response so said no more on the matter, only glancing towards the door to the kitchens where a group of servers were bustling about. “Food should be served soon. Then the day’s celebrations will be over.”

“No after party?” Copia sounded disappointed.

“That’ll be held next weekend. After all official marriage business has been taken care of. Ah, the food!” She sat up straighter in her chair as a waiter suddenly appeared and placed a plate in front of each of you.

You stared down at the appetiser salad that was about the size of your big toe. You hoped there were more courses to come. A lot more. Nevertheless, you picked up your fork and stabbed at a crunchy piece of lettuce before popping it in your mouth.

Copia did the same next to you before looking back towards Imperator again. “Official marriage business? Like what? We are married.”

She looked at him like it was obvious. “Well, you know what happens on the wedding night.”

He only looked more confused. “People getting drunk?”

Imperator rolled her eyes before practically hissing at him. "You must consummate the marriage."

Both you and Copia stopped chewing, forks being lowered to your plates with a clatter.

You swallowed the mouthful, straining slightly to force it down. "How- how soon?"

"Well, tonight preferably." Imperator said calmly. "To solidify your union."

"Sister, we've only just met." Your husband croaked.

The older woman looked at him unimpressed. "Are you trying to tell me you've never had a one night stand with someone you just met?"

"Well-" Copia choked. "That's- that's different."

"Different how?" She questioned, eyes flicking between the two of you. "Treat it like a one night stand. If it's terrible then you do not have to touch each other again. Well, until an heir is expected. But if it is good then see it as a lovely start to your marriage."

You ignored the talk of an heir, the thought of having a man you just met's baby being too much for you to handle in that moment. "Okay."

"Okay?!" Copia whirled on you, surprised you'd agreed that easily.

"Ah, beloved husband, do you find me that repulsive?" You grinned at him, only a hint of genuine worry in your voice.

"No, no. Of course not." He rushed out, thinking about how it was quite the opposite in fact. "I just did not expect you to give in so quickly."

"Give in?" You asked, eyebrows raising in question. "It might surprise you that the concept of sleeping with you does not sound so bad to me, Copia."

His heart, and cheeks, warmed at the use of his name. It was the first time you'd done so. It sounded nice coming out of your mouth. Out of his wife's mouth. "Eh, very well. We shall consummate the marriage."

"Wonderful." Sister Imperator clapped her hands together before standing up. "I shall inform the clergy of this joyous news."

The two of you watched her walk away, abandoning her salad, the knowledge that a group of old men now knew about your future sex lives playing in the back of your minds.

You shook the thought away as you scooted your chair closer to Copia's, lowering your voice for only him to hear. "You sound elated at the concept of sleeping with me."

His eyes widened as he looked at you. "Um, I uh-"

You smirked. "It's okay. We can just pretend if you'd like. They'll never know the difference."

"No, that's- we don't have to do that. Do you want to do that?" He took a deep breath. "To pretend?"

You looked him up and down. "No."

His ears and neck burned red with a flush. "Really?"

You let out a short giggle. "Yes, why is that so surprising to you?"

"Because I'm- and you're-" He gestured at your face but said no more.

You smiled softly. "Well, to me you are-" You mimicked his gesture to his face.

"Oh." He squeaked and you grinned widely at him. "But you're sure? So soon?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Although I would maybe like to see what's underneath all this paint first." You said, letting your eyes roam his face.

"Of course, of course." He babbled. "Maybe you will find yourself disappointed and change your mind."

You rolled your eyes. "Unlikely."

Copia liked your confidence in assuming you were going to find yourself attracted to his face underneath the makeup. He wasn’t so sure himself but at least you’d given his ego a slight boost.

The two of you exchanged idle conversation as more food was served, bigger portions to your relief, and the occasional guest came up to your table to wish you congratulations. You didn’t fail to notice the looks of envy that were sent your way by several people who eyed up Copia hungrily as they approached. You could only laugh to yourself, finding it even funnier that your new husband seemed to lack faith in his looks despite there clearly being a long line of people who wanted him.

A couple of hours passed by and soon enough the guests started clearing out, which you were thankful for. You couldn’t wait to take your shoes off or to ease up the laces on your dress. It had been a long day. But you knew it wasn’t over yet. The time was slowly approaching. The time when you were supposed to sleep with your new husband for the first time.

You weren’t nervous exactly. But there was still an element of apprehension deep inside you.

Once the last few people had departed and Sister Imperator had wished you both a good night, a very suggestive look on her face, you and Copia were left in an empty ballroom.

“Would you like me to give you a tour of the building now? Or in the morning?” He asked you as he took your hand in his, rubbing his gloved thumb over your knuckles.

“In the morning.” You decided. “It will give us something to look forward to. Besides, I can see that you’re tired.”

“Not too tired for you, I promise.” He sighed. “It’s just been a long day.”

“I know.” You agreed and stood up. “Let’s go to bed.”

The words weren’t suggestive in the slightest which is why Copia didn’t feel nervous as he joined your side and the two of you made your way out of the ballroom. He pointed out a few landmarks of the place as you walked in the direction of his rooms but everything went largely unexplored. It could wait for tomorrow.

Anxiety set in as you reached the corridor that led to his bedroom. What if you didn’t like his space? He was willing to change things, to accommodate, as he wanted you to feel welcome. But what if you hated it? And didn’t want to share a room, or a bed, with him. He supposed he would find you your own place to stay. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that it would make him sad.

“And these are my rooms.” He said as he pushed his door open and ushered you in. “Our rooms, if you’d like. But if not then I’m sure we can find you somewhere of your own to stay.”

You looked around as the doors were closed behind you. It was nice. Very him from what you’d gathered so far. There was a book case, overflowing with volumes, next to a desk covered in paperwork in one corner. A large bed took up almost an entire wall, four posters with a curtain hanging around it. Fancy. He had an ornate oak wardrobe teeming with sparkly jackets that poked out of the open doors, you’d have to ask him to model some of those for you at a later date.

You turned towards Copia with a timid smile. “I don’t want to intrude. This is your home.”

He rushed towards you, taking your hands in his to reassure you. “It’s your home now too. I want you to be comfortable here. Well, not right here if you don’t want. Or if you do want.”

You couldn’t express how relieved you were at how sweet he was. “I do want. For now at least.”

His face lit up. “You’ll stay here? With me?”

You nodded, matching his positivity. “Yes.”

“Wonderful, hehe.” He paused and glanced over your shoulder towards the bed. “I will go wash my face and then… then we can…”

“Consummate the marriage?” You offered with a sarcastic smile. “It’s okay, we can take it slow.”

Copia nodded before turning and disappearing into the bathroom. You took the opportunity to snoop around a little, to get a feel for your new husband some more.

In the bathroom, he washed his face meticulously, careful not to be too harsh on his skin. He wanted to look clean and fresh for you, not like a ripe tomato from being too aggressive with a washcloth.

Once he was done Copia stared at himself in the mirror, face only slightly red from where he’d scrubbed the paint away. Faint traces of black had been left around his eyes but he knew no amount of rubbing his eyes raw with a washcloth would clean it away so he left it there. His fists clenched around the edge of the basin, nerves setting in. What if you were disappointed by what was revealed to be under his paints? You said it was unlikely you would be but a part of him still worried. The day had been going smoothly, almost too smoothly, that he thought something was bound to go wrong. And what if it turned out to be his appearance.

Pushing all of that away, he realised that he wouldn’t know any of it for sure until he just went for it. So, after letting the murky grey water wash away, Copia opened the bathroom door and stepped out with an air of faux confidence that quickly dissipated.

He found you stood next to his desk, eyes scanning his book shelves as you had a good look at all of the titles. You glanced over your shoulder at him, doing a double take when you saw him. He was standing in the arch of the bathroom doorway, backlit with light that made him glow. If you weren’t a Satan worshipper you would have said he looked angelic.

Copia shifted from foot to foot as you stared at him silently. The panic was starting to set in again as you continued to say nothing. Why weren’t you saying anything? That feeling vanished when you held out a hand to him.

“Come here.” You said quietly, tipping your head back to invite him over.

He practically ran to you, taking your hand in his but still keeping his distance by a foot or so.

You closed the distance yourself, lifting your spare hand to cup the side of his face in it. “You are so beautiful.”

His shoulders relaxed, tension leaving them, as he leaned into your touch and turned his head to kiss the palm of your hand. “That is high praise coming from you.”

You shook your head playfully. “Oh, my husband’s a charmer.”

My husband. He was your husband. He liked that. “Only for you, amore mio.”

“Don’t go making promises you might not be able to keep.” You teased, warmth flooding through you at the term of endearment he’d used. “What if we hate each other?”

“I think we made a promise when we recited our vows.” He kissed your palm again before leaving one on your wrist as well, quickly making his way down your arm until it was wrapped around the back of his neck. “And I cannot imagine myself ever hating anyone as lovely as you.”

You hummed in response, not being able to form a coherent reply as his face drew nearer to yours. His free hand reached for your waist, winding his arm around you and pulling you flush against his chest. Your intertwined hands stayed connected beside you.

He looked down at you with a half smile curling the edges of his mouth. “Cat got your tongue, amore mio?”

You shook your head slowly. “Just wondering where the shy Copia of a few moments ago disappeared to.”

“Ah, well, my gorgeous wife told me I am beautiful so I decided to toss the nerves aside.” He tilted his head to the side innocently.

“Your wife sounds wise.”

“Oh, she is.” His eyes flickered downwards. “She is also driving me crazy in this dress.”

You averted your own eyes in embarrassment. “I was hoping you’d like it.”

“Oh, amore mio, I do. I really do.” Copia decided then to push towards where the night was inevitably going to end. “However, I think I’d like it even better on the floor.”

Your eyes widened at that. But you liked it. “We better get to work then because it has a lot of buttons and a lot of lace up.”

“You are in luck. I am good with that, you see.” He grinned and gestured downwards.

You followed the angle of his hands and saw that he also had a lot of lace up. Over his crotch. “I guess we can help each other then.”

“Sì.”

And with that he kissed you. It was a lot different to the one kiss you’d shared at the altar. That had been shy and slightly awkward, hundreds of people had been watching after all. But this kiss left that one behind. It was sweet and tender, just as you expected from your new husband. But it was also hungry, like he’d been waiting all day for it. Which he had.

The arm around your waist tightened as he craned his neck to meet you halfway. He tasted vaguely of the soap he’d used to clean his face but it wasn’t unpleasant. You hummed against his lips in approval which only spurred him on, his tongue now licking into your mouth. You let your hand card through his hair before sliding it down onto his cheek again, to keep his face close to yours even when you broke apart to breathe. Your connected hands swung lowly by your sides, his fingers twitching against yours and tangling them further together.

You pulled away from him, breathless, and lifted your joint hands. “Can I ask about the gloves? It’s just I noticed that you kept them on when we did the ring exchange. It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Oh, right.” He looked down at his hand, specifically to where his new wedding ring was sitting over the top of the leather. “I don’t know really. I’ve always just liked them.”

You hesitated before answering, taking in the way he was looking at you with pure open honesty, before nodding. “Okay. Would you like to keep them on now?”

Copia shook his head rapidly. “No, I will take them off.”

“You don’t have to.” You assured, not wanting to pressure him in to anything.

“No, I will. And then you can put my ring in its rightful place on my finger. Sì?”

You nodded and stepped back a pace as he slid the gloves from his fingers. You bit back a comment about how his hands were beautiful just like the rest of him and only watched until he looked up at you again. He handed you his wedding ring and offered his left hand out to you.

“You sure? No backing out after this.” You joked.

He chuckled. “I think I signed that right away when I said ‘I do’.”

You hummed and slipped the ring onto his finger, bending down to place a kiss over it once you’d done so. “Ah, perfect. See?”

“Yes, perfect.” He whispered.

When you looked back up you found that he was looking at you. You tried not to swoon.

“Are you going to help me get my dress off now that your fingers are free from leather?” You asked to distract yourself from the way he was looking at you.

“Sì, turn around.”

You did as you were told, exposing your back to him. He unfastened all of the buttons slowly and carefully, being gentle with the fabric of your dress, before exposing the section underneath with all of the ribbons that laced up your dress.

“How long did this take you to put on this morning?” He grunted as he untied the first ribbon and loosened it.

“Too long.” You sighed. “I really needed to pee by the end of it.”

Copia huffed out a laugh, his breath fanning against the back of your neck. “All for me? Amore mio, you shouldn’t have.”

“First impressions matter.” You retorted, letting out a quiet groan of relief once the second ribbon was loosened.

He reflected back on his own thoughts of first impressions only hours previously. They did matter, he agreed. He paused when you let out another quiet groan. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes.” You sighed. “This dress may be pretty but it sure is uncomfortable.”

“Should have said something. Would have ripped it off you in the ballroom if it was going to make you comfortable.” He pulled more quickly at the next ribbon, eager to get it off you now.

“Would have been a sight for your guests.” You said over your shoulder.

“No, would have got them to leave. My naked wife is not for them to see.”

“Ah, so possessive already?” You giggled quietly.

He leaned forward and placed a kiss on the side of your neck. “Would prefer it if your body was reserved for me only, yes.”

Your eyelids fluttered shut. “It is, don’t worry.”

His hum of approval vibrated against the skin of your neck. “You’re free by the way.”

Your eyes snapped open and you turned to him again, dress falling loosely around you. You clutched at the neckline for a moment, grasping it to keep you covered. “Um, this dress doesn’t really allow for underwear. So I am actually naked underneath this.”

Copia’s eyes darkened as he glanced towards where you were pressing the fabric against your dress. “Do you want me to look away?”

“No, I was just warning you.” You clarified.

“Warning me?” He took a step closer to you, hand lifting to cover your own. “Amore mio, drop the dress. Please.”

There was only a split second of hesitation before you let go and the dress floated to the ground and created a pool of black lace at your feet. Copia tried desperately to keep his eyes on yours but the temptation was too strong. And when he looked down, there was no looking back up again.

He drank you in slowly but ravenously, eyes taking in every inch of your exposed form. When he started babbling words of appreciation to the Dark One, you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore.

“It’s only fair.” You stated before reaching for his own laces at his crotch.

Copia just batted your hand away from him, grabbing you by the shoulders and spinning the two of you around. Before you could ask what he was doing, he slid his hands down to the back of your thighs and lifted you the couple of inches onto his desk.

“Your paperwork-” You started but he cut you off.

“Don’t worry about it.” He huffed and kissed you again.

You moaned into his mouth when he started pawing at you, hands gliding over your body and squeezing at the handfuls of flesh he was finding. He seemed to be doing it more for his own enjoyment than yours. But you didn’t care, happy that he was just appreciating your body.

Your hips jumped forward when his clothed pelvis met yours, a mewl tumbling from your mouth at the friction. Copia took note of that and hooked an arm around the back of your ass and scooted you forward towards the edge of the desk.

“Did that feel good?” He asked and smiled when you nodded enthusiastically. “Hm.”

He bucked his hips towards yours again, using his hand at the small of your back to guide you closer to him and encourage your own movements. You whimpered into his mouth, desperate for more. It felt good but you needed more. You needed him.

“Copia…” You whined, hoping to get the idea across.

“I know, amore mio, I know.” He huffed, shrugging his jacket off of his shoulders. “Can you get the buttons on my shirt please?”

Your hands flew to unfasten it as quickly as possible, not questioning why he wasn’t doing it himself. Not until one of his hands drifted from your waist to your inner thigh at least. You paused momentarily, toes curling, when his thumb brushed against your clit. Watching your reactions closely, Copia did it again.

You cried out, forehead dropping to meet his chest. “Please.”

“Please what, amore mio? Tell me, hm?” He kissed the top of your head gently to encourage you, the confidence he had when performing as Papa now helping him take charge now.

“More. Please more.” You didn’t have the words to describe what you needed.

But he knew. He lifted your head with his free hand, kissing you again, before rubbing a tight circle against your clit with his thumb. The noise you made cemented what he already knew. So he did it a few more times before re-angling his hand to slide a finger inside of you.

It felt so good that you bit down on his bottom lip by accident.

“Ah, fuck, I’m sorry.” You grumbled against him.

“No apologies necessary.” He replied softly, pulling his finger back out before pumping it back in again. This time joined with a second one.

Your eyes closed in pleasure, head dropping backwards and legs circling around the backs of his.

“Amore mio, you didn’t finish with my shirt.” He reminded you in a playful tone.

Your eyes shot open again, your hands racing to get the last of the buttons undone and the garment off of him. When it was done, pushed off his shoulders, slid down his arms, his hand momentarily retracting from you to get it fully off and on the floor, you immediately leaned forward and started exploring his chest with your mouth. You kissed, you licked, you sucked, you bit, you were insatiable. Copia enjoyed your enthusiasm.

So he doubled down in his own actions, pumping his fingers into you at an even faster speed, thumb circling your clit even harder. And soon enough it had you crashing over the edge and collapsing backwards on the desk, back flattening against the piles of paperwork.

Copia licked his hand clean, sucking your essence from his skin, with a satisfied hum. He then finished undressing himself, having no trouble with his own laces, before grabbing your hips to get your attention.

You lazily lifted your head, shooting straight up when you saw what he’d been hiding between his legs. “Are all Papas this hung?”

He barked out a laugh. “Yes, it’s a requirement for the position.”

You watched as he pumped himself a few times before stepping forward and running his tip through your folds, gathering your slick to lube himself up. Your jaw hung open the whole time.

Copia rested a hand on your cheek to get your attention again. “Amore mio, are you ready?”

You nodded at him. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

He slid into you with ease, face falling to meet your shoulder as you swallowed him in. He groaned lowly at the feeling, you were so warm and wet and felt so good. You made your own desperate sounds next to his ear that he couldn’t even take a moment for himself, too eager to please you. So he pulled back out slowly before thrusting in again. Your hands flew to his back, keeping him near as your nails scratched into him. He didn’t care.

Lifting his head to see the two of you meeting between your bodies, he noticed that you were doing the same thing. He couldn’t stop himself from kissing you when you made eye contact. Thoughts ran wild through his head, wondering how’d he been lucky enough to be granted you as his mystery wife. The universe must have messed up somehow, right? No, it hadn’t. Because here you were. On your wedding night. And he was inside of you as you kissed.

The kiss made mobility difficult but neither of you wanted to pull away. Copia had an arm around your waist to keep you steady and a hand on the back of your head to keep you close. You, on the other hand, just clung onto him like your life depended on it. His hips snapped backwards and forwards at a fast pace to keep the friction going but not too harshly as to disturb the meeting of your mouths. Your tongue licked into his mouth hotly and Copia could taste the desire on you. It reflected what he already felt in himself.

“Close.” You managed to gasp out during a break for oxygen.

But Copia knew that, he could tell by the way you were clenching around him. So he didn’t switch up the pace, just kept going with what he knew felt good for you. And soon enough, he had you falling over the precipice again.

He wasn’t far behind, hips rutting forward frantically a few more times before he pulled out and spilled himself over your thighs and the stacks of paperwork you were sitting on.

You giggled tiredly at the sight and looked up at him. “It’s our wedding night and we didn’t even make it to the bed.”

He hadn’t even realised that, glancing over at his large bed with fresh sheets. “We still have time.”

The fatigue washed away at that answer. “Oh?”

Copia offered a hand out to you. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up first.”

You took his hand and hopped off the desk, following him into the bathroom where he washed your thighs off. After that, Copia led his wife to your shared bed where he planned to keep you for the foreseeable future.

A/N: me staring at the title of this fic knowing full well I already have an Obi-Wan fic titled “Absolution”. It bothers me a little but not enough to come up with a new title since this one took me almost as long to come up with as it took me to write the fic itself.

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