#poorly translated Italian (ghost)

[leezlelatch]

Lust in Your Eyes

18+ MDNI

The Cardinal waits for you in your room...but sometimes, he's impatient.

Directly inspired by my beloved @writingjourney's fic.

Filthy self indulgent smut, PLEASE see tags.

Copia x F! Reader - pervy Copia, scent kink, smelling of personal items, masturbation, desperation, breeding kink, explicit conversations, explicit thoughts, self-degradation, self-encouragement, possessive, going through personal items, using articles of clothing for masturbation, caught in the act, p in v, cunnilingus, praise, domination, loud Copia, loud reader, no clean up, teasing, fluff, endearments, exchange of I love you, talk of aftercare.

“Amore?” Copia questions, popping the door open and peeking around the wood. His eyebrows are raised, lips parted slightly, black smudged along the bottom from a day of pressing his lips together in concentration. His eyes briefly roam across the small expanse of your room in the residency hall of the Ministry, huffing a laugh when he spots the stuffed rat he bought you lovingly placed on a pillow in your bed. 

He pushes the rest of the door open enough to squeeze his body through, nearly hopping inside before shutting it with his bottom. He pockets the spare key and pulls out his phone, turning it over right side up. “Eugggh…ah! Here we go,” he grumbles, flipping it open. The screen lights up and he raises a hand. “Eureka!” 

He holds it away from himself and presses with a heavy gloved finger to open his messages, looking at the last text you sent him. 

Hi, sweetie. :) meet me at my room when you’re done? 

Copia smiles, the endearment, as always, warming his cheeks. You must be running a little late. He pockets his phone and rubs his hands together with a sigh as he glances around your room once more. He walks over to the small fish tank on your desk, bending over to peer inside at the betta fish relaxing amongst the greenery growing within the tank. 

“Hi! Hello, Big Betta. Where is your mama, huh?” Copia shrugs when the beta doesn’t respond and stands upright again, taking off his biretta and placing it on the desktop. He leaves through your record collection, making small noises of appreciation, just wasting time until he has you in his arms again. 

Abandoning the shelf of records, he sits down on your bed, running his hand across the comforter. With a sigh, Copia falls back, closing his eyes as your scent envelopes him. He turns on his side and follows the pattern of the bedspread with a single finger, a crooked smile on his lips as he thinks about the very naughty things the two of you have gotten up to in this very bed. 

He turns his nose into the soft material, taking a deep breath, his mouth falling open slightly. He turns onto his stomach, drawing his legs up as he skims the tip of his nose across the length of the bed, crawling forward until he reaches your pillow. 

“Amore mio,” he rasps, pants growing uncomfortably tight as he presses his face into your pillow. He rotates his hips, pushing the seam of his zipper into his hardening cock, a pathetic noise bubbling from his throat. 

Copia freezes then, the silence following his moan terrible as he realizes what he’s doing. The Cardinal heaves a frustrated sigh and drops his head into your pillow. The man is so desperate for you. He won’t deny that. Desperate for your love. Desperate for your body. Desperate for any crumb of your attention he can get. He spent the day half-hard after reading your text, eyes following the clock religiously, counting down the hours. 

The Cardinal is not ashamed of his lust, but…perhaps he shouldn’t be humping your bed when you’re not here. A slow smile lifts the corners of his mouth. 

Or at least, not here to see it. It wouldn’t do to waste his seed on anything that isn’t the temple with which he worships. Your beautiful body. Your tight pussy. Your womb which he aches to fill. 

Copia rolls onto his back and lets out a breath, staring at the ceiling. He grimaces, reaching down to adjust the insistent throb, fighting with his cassock. “Cazzo…,” he growls, sitting up and quickly unbuttoning the suffocating material, ripping it from his body. He nearly falls off the bed in the process, grabbing the bedside table for support. Your lamp sways violently and the few things you have on the surface shake and nearly fall off, but finally Copia throws the offending cassock to the floor. 

He turns toward the mirror nailed to the small piece of wall next to your closet and smooths his hair back. He stares at himself, running a hand across his soft stomach as he turns to the side, admiring the way his cock tents his pants. Copia chuckles softly and palms himself, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “You’re a dirty old fucker, eh?” He sighs. “Satana, I need her so much.”

Copia checks the clock on your desk, eager for the time to pass. Missing you. Craving you. His entire body alight with the need to have you. Keep you tucked in his arms and in bed. Warm and soft and satisfied. He’d cook for you, care for you, ensure that his precious girl never wants for anything. You’re already his wife in his mind, Copia need only buy the ring.

He turns, idly debating on returning to the warmth of your bed when his eyes fall on the door to your closet. It’s ajar, the cut of the light from your room illuminating a few items of clothing which hang from the rack. Copia slips his fingers through the opening, teasing the door open the rest of the way. A shuddering breath pushes from his throat as the dress you wore to dinner last week reveals itself in all its sinful satin, hanging prettily as if it was waiting for him. 

Copia hastily pulls his glove off his hand with his teeth, tossing the leather carelessly over his shoulder. With a nearly shaking hand, he reaches out, pressing searching fingers against the dress, his senses burning with the memory of how it felt to rip it from your body. He’s surprised it survived, looking nearly picture perfect. Its only failure is that you’re not wearing it. 

Copia’s cock jumps, straining against his trousers. He whimpers, a small “mmm!” when he reaches down to unzip, his fingers brushing against the wet patch in his underwear. Copia pulls the dress from the closet with a frenzy, holding the hanger in one hand while the other frantically pulls down his underwear, letting his painful cock bob in the air, freezing against his heated skin. He lightly smacks it, watching with a groan as it bounces, the tip red with just the sweetest drop of precum pearled within the slit. 

He stands there almost unsure for a moment, eyes falling to your door and then your doorknob. Oh, if it turned right now. If you caught him. The thought makes him shake with need, and he toes off his shoes, kicking his pants and underwear off to the side. He leaves his socks, doesn’t bother to unbutton his clerical shirt, his only remaining thought being to fuck his cock into your dress. 

Copia drops to the floor, the floorboards rough on his knees. He groans, and then laughs, the sudden protest of his knees rocking him back to lucidity for a moment. Cardinal Copia, a devotee of lust. Horny and desperate and ready to pleasure himself with the memory of you, the scent of you, until he has you under him again. 

Where are you? 

Copia yanks the dress from the hanger, bunching it up in his hands and passing the cool satin across his thighs. 

“Oh…amore, la mia preziosa ragazza! Ti amo, ti amo cosi tanto,” he whispers fervently, eyes shut tight as he imagines you before him, wearing the dress he so violently clings to. 

He finally moves the dress higher, moaning low and deep, drawn out into a high pitched keen as he finally gives his cock the attention it so craves. 

“Copia?” Your voice cuts through his lustful haze, and Copia’s eyes snap open, falling on your surprised expression at the door. He stands up so quickly, he falls backwards onto your bed. The dress covers his weeping cock, the Cardinal looking a mess while splayed across your bed, cheeks red. 

It’s quiet for several moments. 

“Did I keep you waiting too long?” You ask softly, dropping your bag and moving toward the bed. 

Copia pulls the dress off of him, cock so hard it curves toward his stomach. “Look at what you’ve done, topolino. Your Cardinal hurts.” 

“I’m sorry, sweetie. I should have hurried.” You pick up the dress, looking at it with a pout. “Were you going to cum on my dress?” 

“Of course not,” he admonishes. He sits up and curls a finger, smiling as you dutifully flock to his side. He takes your hand, bringing it to his lips, the scratch of his mustache a comfort to you. “Nothing wrong with a little…foreplay, sì? I missed you so much.” 

“I missed you,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your lips meet, Copia hands insistent as he pulls you down to straddle his hips on the edge of the bed. Licking into your mouth, the man flips you, your back hitting the mattress. He ruts into your clothed sex, your surprised squeak swallowed by his mouth. He pulls away to nearly tear your leggings and panties off your body, flinging them into the open door of the closet so hard they rattle the hangers inside. 

Copia slides his hands up your inner thighs, spreading your legs to stare unabashedly at your pussy. “Surely I’ve been given favor by the Dark Lord…,” he murmurs, leaning in to drag two fingers through your folds, spreading your lips. “I’ve been waiting all day to taste you.”

His gaze flashes to yours, his lips pulling into a smirk as he gets comfortable on the bed, hooking his arms around your spread thighs. “Watch your Cardinal worship,” he whispers. 

He moans, loud and unashamed when your pussy flutters at his words, your slick rapidly sweetening his evening meal. “Don’t worry, dolce. I’ll fill that pretty hole soon enough.” 

Copia’s lips close over your clit and he sucks. His tongue flicks, curling around the sensitive nub. You buck your hips with a cry and he moves a hand to your belly to drop them back to the bed, pressing firmly. He keeps you there, attached to his mouth, laving his tongue over and between your folds, dipping into your entrance. His cock gives a powerful kick against the mattress as your walls pull in his tongue. 

“Your Cardinal knows,” he coos. Your answering whimper makes him smile. “Sì, sì, he knows.” 

“Copia, please,” you beg, rocking your hips into his face, trying to get that perfect nose to hit just right. 

This makes him laugh, “My eager topolino. I’m eager, too.” 

He kisses up your body, bunching your shirt in a hand as he drags it along. He fumbles for a moment, fighting with your bra, a few choice curses flying into the air before the bra also thwacks against the wall. 

“Oh, dolce,” Copia tsks, gently kissing the red marks left behind from your bra. “We will take a break from wearing that, yes? Find you something more comfortable. I can’t have you in pain…they must be so sore.” 

He lavishes attention across your breasts, alternating between sucking your pebbled nipples and gently soothing his tongue across the sore marks. The only marks on your gorgeous breasts should be from his mouth. Copia blows against the wet line of his saliva, a grateful sigh making your chest rise and fall from the cool sensation. 

“That’s my baby,” he murmurs. 

Copia glances down to where his cock rests between your legs, lifting his hips to drag it along your slick, a full body shudder wracking his frame as he moans. He reaches down to wrap long fingers around the length of him, pumping into his fist once, twice, a third time that has his toes curling in his socks. 

His eyes meet yours and he leans in for a gentle, lingering kiss. “Are you ready?” He asks, gaze adoring. 

“I need you,” you respond, tilting your hips up. 

Copia places his tip at your entrance, adjusting to bracket you between his arms, your breaths mingling from how close your faces are now. “Be my brava ragazza and take your Cardinal’s cock, hmm? Can you do that for me?” He whispers, rubbing his nose against yours. 

“Yes,” you gasp, feeling the stretch of him as he pushes into you, his cock filling you in a rush of perfection that has you crying his name already. 

His thrusts are messy. Stuttering. Copia struggles to find a rhythm, so overwhelmed by the feeling of you. His love. His soulmate. To be inside you is to know the euphoria of damnation. His hands slide under your body and he pulls you impossibly closer as he slides his legs under for leverage, pistoning into you. 

Copia’s own cries rival yours, filling the small space of your bedroom, the slap of your skin against his as delicious accompaniment. He collapses on top of you, still pushing, humping, grinding into your soaked cunt, his lips dragging along your shoulder, making a path to your lips. 

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” you chant, breathless. He claims your mouth, curling his tongue around yours while his hand reaches between your bodies to circle your clit. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pressed against his chest as your orgasm rips through you, your mouth caught open in a shout of ecstasy. Your hips cant against his, your hole spasming around his cock, milking him dry as he jerks, thighs trembling with his own orgasm. He screams into your skin, head buried in your neck, his hips making quick, tight circles as he rides out his climax. 

Copia rolls off, a heavy weight, arms hooked around you to make you follow so you’re both on your sides, legs intertwined. He places exhausted little kisses all over your face. 

“My heart. My love. My soul. My sweetheart. My future. My everything. Ti amo. Ti amo. I love you,” each of his soft words punctuated with a kiss. 

He tilts your face up with a gentle hand to your jaw, searching your eyes. You have to smile, the black make up encircling his eyes smeared all down his cheeks. “Are you okay, baby? Everything feels okay?” He asks, his voice sleepy and sweet. 

“Everything is perfect,” you answer, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose that makes him giggle. 

“Eh…I’m going to feel that in the morning,” he chuckles, tucking you against his chest. 

“I should leave you waiting more often.”

Copia playfully growls, ducking his head to press a kiss to your lips. “Next time, I’ll get into your underwear drawer.” 

“No!” You giggle, pushing against him. “I already lost three pairs to you.” 

“Yes,” he says, nodding with a little smirk. “I confiscate. Too many things between my mouth and your pussy.” 

“Copia!” You gasp, your cheeks flaming as you fight a grin. “You’re awful.” 

“Ah, you love it,” he shrugs. His expression turns serious then, pleading as he looks at you, wrapped in his embrace where you belong. “You love me?” 

“Very much,” you murmur, pressing a hand to his cheek. “I love you so very much.” 

Copia turns his face into your hand, placing a kiss in the center of your palm. “We go to my room now, eh? A hot bath will do us both good.” 

“You’re gonna make me walk?” You groan softly, rolling onto your back as Copia makes to get up with a sore grunt. 

“You’ll thank me tomorrow.” 

You sit up, your muscles feeling thoroughly used, and make to grab a towel from your dresser. You can feel his cum smearing along your thighs. 

“No, amore,” Copia says, his back to you as he begins to dress. “That’s what the bath is for.” 

“But I still have to walk down to your room,” you say, turning to look at him, the towel clutched in your hand. 

“Yes, you do.” Copia pauses to return your gaze, expectant.  

You drop the towel, blushing softly, “Yes, Cardinal.” 

[ink-and-dagger]

54 for some possessive terzo maybe? There's way too much good stuff on that list it's hard to choose

Will you take some soft possessive Terzo? I sure hope so cuz that’s what I’ve written

Papa Emeritus iii x Reader || Smut drabble || Soft possessive Terzo || Wedding night || Love-making || NSFW || MDNI

There are flowers on the floor.

An abandoned bouquet of midnight calla lilies and black satin dahlias, strung together with velvet ribbon.

And there are fine clothes too; embroidered silks in colours so rarely seen around the Ministry. New shoes, worn only once. Papal robes and ceremonial pomp. All of it strewn upon the ground like a trail of crumbs in a fairytale forest, leading not to some gingerbread cottage but to a canopied bed, adorned with gossamer curtains and dark satin throws, and two lovers tangled upon it.

You and Terzo move together like warm ocean waves lapping up sunsoaked sands. No rush, only leisure and bliss. Hands graze over shifting muscles, and soft, pleasure-filled sighs fill the space between stolen kisses. He’s pressed so close that you can feel his heart beating through his chest and straight into yours. It feels apt, today of all days.

“Mio cuore,” Terzo whispers, his breathless words collecting upon your skin as his mouth roves blindly over your cheeks, your lips, your throat, “Sei il mio cuore. Il mio tutto – senza di te morirei. Ti amo. Ti amo tanto. Tanto molto—”

His words melt into a ragged moan as he grinds himself deeper inside your heat. And you too gasp out his name, nails digging pink crescents into his back, and your legs hitching higher around his waist.

He pulls back only far enough to gaze down at you. A  warm, broad palm rises to cup your jaw, thumb sweeping to brush away the single, rapturous tear which clings to your lower lashes.

“Say it again,” he begs, like he hasn’t already spent the entire day at your ear any chance he got, quietly requesting to hear you repeat the two words since you first spoke them in the chapel.

“I do,” you breathe, “I do.”

Your hips roll to meet each of his quickening thrusts. His sudden intensity knocking the air from your lungs until all you can do is gape hopelessly up at him; gaze wide and imploring, swollen lips parted in silent plea.

“Only I get to ruin you like this, you hear me?” He growls, dual-eyes dazzling with the sheer breadth of emotion contained within them, “Only me– O-only me—”

“Only you, Terzo,” you agree, cupping the back of his night-dark head, guiding his brow down to rest against yours, “Only my husband.”

His lips crash against yours, and you lose yourself to him completely.

Bare palms slide over your shoulders, up your arms to lace his fingers together with yours, and press your joined hands into the blankets over your head.

The moon smiles down upon you both, blessing your Union with her silver touch. It filters through the bedroom window and illuminates you both in a pool of ethereal light, and sets the matching bands on your fingers glittering.

Mio cuore. Sei il mio cuore. Il mio tutto – senza di te morirei. Ti amo. Ti amo tanto. Tanto molto. My heart. You are my heart. My everything - without you I would die. I love you. I love you so much. So much.

[grey-ghoul]

Phantom loves bats, he carries his bat stuffy everywhere (its name is nightmare) but what people dont know is that phantom also loves spiders. The other ghouls find this so strange. If ghouls or even siblings kill a spider in the ministry they have to hide it before phantom sees because he will rage. And then when he calms down he goes to papa’s office with tears in his eyes and the little spider in his hands and papa will go into to the garden with phantom to give the spider back to the earth and its family all while whispering “va bene, piccolo pipistrello, il ragno è in un posto migliore adesso. la sua famiglia perdonerà“

[dantesunbreaker]

Ditch of Despair

Papa Emeritus IV x Reader (based off me falling in a trench the other day, fluff, anxiety, hurt/comfort, 1.9k words)

You are working outside when you manage to trip and fall. But a certain Papa finds you and comes to your rescue!

Warm sunlight seeps out between a cover of thin wispy clouds reaching across the blue sky. Birds chirp their beautiful evening songs from the trees above. Sweat clings to your skin in a thin even layer, a single river trickling down between your shoulder blades to pool at the small of your back.

Luckily, despite The Clergy’s insistence that all Siblings of Sin are to wear uniforms, you had yet to encounter anyone who would enforce said dress code. And thank Satan for that. Otherwise you would have long since melted into a puddle under the sun. Wearing a pair of shorts and an all too big cut off shirt was all that was sparing you from the full brunt of the blazing Summer heat. Plans had been set to build a gazebo near their small pond in order to make the church grounds seem more lively and inviting. You happen to be among the Siblings tasked with making it happen.

Others had been with you through the day and afternoon, but without a supervisor to oversee their work, they all had decided to call the day early around 3PM. Ever the workaholic however, you were set on working until the expected 5PM cut off time. Even if that meant working alone. Why prolong a project more than is necessary? So, alone  you stand as you place a level along a cross beam that would soon make up the floor. A few minor adjustments are made before you are expertly securing the board into place.

Along the outer edge of the frame of the gazebo some of the Brothers have dug small trenches where Primo plans to plant some of his rhododendrons. You remain completely unaware of the uneven earth surrounding you. Okay okay, so maybe you did know about your Brothers digging around the worksite. But what’s the phrase? Out of sight out of mind?

Taking a step backwards as you are turning around surely isn’t your brightest idea, but you are already in motion before the thought crosses your mind. Big mistake. As your foot twists along with you, it catches the edge of one of the many ditches and has your balance immediately thrown out the window. Strings of curses spill from your mouth as your world begins to turn horizontal.

Your ankle hits first, exposed skin dragging along rough dirt until the flesh is pink and raw. From ankle to knee your shin burns with the friction along the disheveled earth you come crashing down upon. All too late for salvation, your palms catch the grass in a futile attempt to stop your already stalled momentum, right hand catching and slicing layers deep. Flat on the ground you lie as you wait for the thunder in your chest to cease. But it doesn’t.

Tears bubble at the corner of your eyes as you try to make sense of what’s up from down. Frustration fueled panic sets in, inducing your anxiety to cloud your senses. Stomach churning, you can’t bring  yourself to lift up and out from the shallow ditch. Can’t bring yourself to assess the damage. You are content to wallow in the makeshift grave until either the passing of the feeling of impending doom or Satan himself is ready to come claim you. Pressing your face down you try to let the soft grass kiss your cheeks and muffle the stutter of your quiet sobs.

“Caro, are you out here?” A breath hitches in your throat at the sound of a familiar accented voice. One you have grown to love, but one you dread to face in your current state.

Maybe, just maybe if you hold ever so still enough he won’t be able to spot you. But he isn’t that prehistoric. The last thing you want is your partner seeing you in such a sorry state. But you hear the crunch of footfalls through grass continues to creep closer. You can’t bring yourself to lift your head as the footsteps halt a few feet away.

“Napping on the job are we now, amore?” From an outsider’s view it surely looked as if you had stepped into the small hole and spread your upper half out amongst the grass.

You are somewhat sprawled out in an awkward way that if anxiety wasn’t killing you, you would find it quite comical as well. Kind of like a starfish clinging to the rocks of the tidepools. But we don’t always get what we want. Giving the single most pathetic whimper you have ever heard, you lift your head just enough to expose your big watery eyes and trembling bottom lip. Mismatched mirthful gaze turns somber within seconds as Papa Emeritus IV drops to a knee before you.

“Oh, caro, what happened? Did you take a tumble?” Copia speaks in such an easy soothing tone that is full of concern. At your nod, he gives the most heart wrenching frown. “May I see? Can you do that for me, amore?”

Stifling another sniffle you drop your face back into the grass but you lift  your stinging hand, outstretching it away from you. Leather clad hands grasp your hand in a feather light touch before delicately turning it palm up. A whine leaves your lips as a thumb brushes along what you can only assume is a large gash splitting your palm. 

“It’s not so bad topolino. Come take a look, si?” You really don’t want to, but as both thumbs move to rub gentle circles along your wrist you know that you have to. “Prometto, it truly is not as bad as you may think, amore mio.”

Sucking a deep breath in hopes it will provide the strength you require, you lift your head once again. Your eyes follow the same path as the mismatched pair before you to take in the damage.

“Oh...”

You feel just as small as you are sure your voice sounds in the moment. A mere two inch cut is what you see before you. Blood is clearly seen between the torn skin, but it is trapped below the surface of another layer of skin already sealed off due to the angle of the wound. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you drop your head and let out a pitiful wail. Tugging at your arm, you try to pull from Copia’s grasp to curl up in on yourself. But he holds fast.

“No, no none of that! There is nothing to be ashamed of mio dolce ragazzo!” His hands slide down your forearm to grasp just above the elbow. As you pause your retreat, Copia takes that as his go ahead to continue. “Will you come out so I may see all of you?”

Eyes lifting to meet those of your lover, you silently beg for him to lend you some of his strength. Sensing what you need, Copia gives  you a bright beaming smile that tells you without words that he believes in all that you are. Another whimper passes your lips, but in a way that communicates your appreciation.

Reaching your other arm out towards Copia, you wait for him to take hold and begin to move backwards. Half being pulled and half crawling, you manage to slither out of your pit of despair only to sprawl awkwardly partially in Copia’s lap. He hums and coos at you as he shuffles your limbs around until you are cradled perfectly between his legs and side pressed to his chest.

“That’s it,” Copia gives one of those old man sighs of comfort and content as he gives you praise and holds you to him. “Now let Papa see the rest, si? Let me take care of you.”

Nodding, still not quite ready to use your words, you press your face into his neck and point him towards your shins. Unlike your palm, your left leg looks a bit worse for wear. From ankle to knee your skin is a practically glowing shade of radiant pink. Patches of skin in areas are rubbed away and completely raw, oozing bits of blood and plasma. It will certainly be a big mess of scabs come the following day.

“You will be fine,” Copia’s soothing voice hums as one hand rubs up and down your bicep. “Just a few scrapes and booboos, nothing you cannot handle, si?”

Once again you nod, head tucked nicely into his neck. But that is all the answer Copia needs. Rather than pushing you before you are ready, Copia is content to simply hold you until you decide to tell him the chain of events that led him to finding you this way. Focusing on the steady rise and fall of his chest with breath puts you more and more at ease with each passing moment. Nuzzling once into his neck, you finally sigh and straighten your back.

“Are you ready to tell Papa what happened?” Copia’s voice regains his teasing tone as he takes note of your improved mood. It earns him a small giggle and soft elbow jab to the ribs. He takes it as a sign he has done his job.

“I uh... forgot that the others had dug out some holes for Primo’s flowers. And well, I kept working after they all decided to leave early,” your hands are moving and gesturing, conveying nothing really in particular as you explain your mishap. “So there I was making sure the board was level, then I stepped back as I was turning to grab something and... and well then I was in a ditch. It seems my clumsiness knows no bounds.”

All the while Copia listens intently, reassuring hands giving you a gentle squeeze whenever your speech begins to falter. When you’ve finished, he gives a nod and gains a look of being deep in thought. Holding you close to his chest, Copia lets his eyes meet yours before he speaks.

“I see, topolino,” a thumb reaches up to brush along your cheek. “Would you like for me to punish the other Siblings for abandoning their duties early? It is not safe to leave a Brother to work alone on the job.”

For probably too long you consider the thought. Sure, had the others been there you may have not fallen. Or even if you did, they at least would have been there to help you immediately instead of leaving you to wallow with frustrated anxiety.

“No, Copia,” you punctuate his name by placing a kiss along the bottom of his jaw. “Thank you for the offer though.”

“Are you sure? I know Sister Imperator would be more than delighted to subject  them to a weekend of work.”

Snaking your arms around your Papa’s shoulders, you smile and once more press your nose into his neck. Without a doubt you could see Sister full of glee at putting more work onto the shoulders of your Siblings.

“Yes, I am sure. It wasn’t their fault, and I just as well could have gone with them when they all left. But you know me, a big workaholic.” You feel the way Copia leans into your touch. “However,” you break the brief pause of silence. “I would love it if a certain Papa were to carry me back to his room to get cleaned up...maybe even to share a hot bath with.”

Happy chuckles leave your partner as he slides an arm under your legs. A small giggling scream leaves you as you are lifted into the air as Copia stands. Though you hear the creak of his old joints, he shows no signs of strain or discomfort under your added weight. 

“That I can arrange, amore mio,” you don’t miss the eyebrow wiggle he gives before setting towards his room at a more than walking pace.

[youwouldntlietopapa]

When Everything's Dark

Contains: Primo x Reader, fluff, domestic fluff, insomnia, family worries, anxiety, etc. No smut in this one, just Peepaw getting some affection and care.

Also available on AO3

____________________________________________________________

The ache in Primo’s back had started to spread. One more telltale sign he’d been awake too long. Pacing or fidgeting in his seat or sat at his desk trying to find solutions to the mountain of problems that he could feel looming over him. All the things that he was supposed to be finished with when he retired. Budgets and Siblings and Ghouls and Ministry bullshit. Instead, it was obviously going to be another sleepless night. Up worrying himself sick. Again.

Even if he could forget the Ministry business, his brothers were still at the forefront of his mind. Secondo, still grieving the loss of his title. Terzo, overwhelmed by the onslaught of responsibility. And Primo was left to try and keep the whole thing from falling apart. Maybe it should have felt routine after a lifetime of playing parent to them both. But, he was ashamed to admit, even after all this time there was a part of him that was angry at how long he’d been expected to pick up after their father, how much of his own life had been set aside to protect them from his negligence. Another night burned at the altar of that man’s selfishness. Another headache blooming behind his eyes. Another barely contained urge to scream.

...

“Please, my love, come to bed.” You’d asked half a dozen times and you’d keep on asking, begging, pleading, whatever it takes to get him to rest. But, again, he shakes his head and gently shoos you back toward the bedroom.

“Don’t worry, fiore mio.” He sighs, patting your hand. His smiles, small and forced. The weight of his troubles and the drag of his exhaustion stoops his shoulders and threatens to crush him. “Rest will come when it comes. For now, it is too loud to sleep.” Primo tapped his temple.

But your grip on his hand is insistent and the gentle tug for him to follow unmistakable. “You know I can’t sleep without you.” In all the time you’ve known him, he’s never been any good at denying you when you look at him with those big, sad eyes. Stepping closer again to tease your fingers through the chest hair poking up past the collar of his bathrobe. “Will you, at least, take me to bed and stay with me until I fall asleep? Please?”

You can see it in his eyes and in the twitch at the corner of his mouth. Both of you know that he is too clever and sees too clearly to fall for such a thin attempt at tricking him into sleeping. What matters, however, is less the attempt than the reason behind it. You’ve asked before and you’ll ask again, because you worry and you care. Because that’s what you do for the people you love most. He can stay up pacing, worrying over his brothers, but he can’t do that without knowing you’ll be awake with your own worries over him. His forehead rests against yours and his eyes slide closed.

“Until you fall asleep.” Primo nods, all too aware that it will be just that. He’ll wait until you are fast asleep and then slip back out, away from where he might disturb you. “Anything for Angelo mio.”

Relinquishing control, he lets you lead him without resistance back to the big, warm bed that you’ve been sharing for a little more than a year already. Routines that had been established even before you’d given up your own quarters entirely made the shift from spending the night to staying forever an easy one, and once Primo sits on the edge of the bed, you fall into the comfort of those routines without giving him much of a chance to protest.

“Sleep or not, will you let me take care of you? You’ll already be exhausted in the morning, why be in pain as well?” You press up against his back, hugging him from behind, and kiss his neck. Your fingers find the end of the tie holding his robe closed, carefully pulling the tie loose.

His warm hands rest softly on yours and he leans back into the pressure of your body behind him. “Ti prendi sempre cura di me.” Primo says softly, lifting one of your hands and kissing your fingers. “Besides, only a fool would try to stop you when you are determined.”

The robe slides off his freckled shoulders without any resistance, and he tosses it onto the chair next to the window. The glass pot of muscle balm he made himself is still sitting on the bedside table where you left it and you scoop out a dollop with one finger. It smells of herbs from the garden, an undertone of lavender, and beeswax. Warming it between your hands, the short wait is filled with soft kisses to the back of his neck and across his shoulders.

“Will you tell me what has you so upset?” It never feels right to pry. Not with him. Primo is and had always been open and honest about most things. Too much experience with silence to care for keeping it any longer. When there were things he kept to himself, it was simpler and typically correct to think he had his reasons. But this had become disruptive beyond the typical.

He lets out a deep breath and the faintest moan when your hands work the balm into his shoulders and down his back. Massaging the balm into his tight muscles. The ache radiating from his lower back finally starts to let go. “The same things as many times before, fiore mio.” He says with a dry smile. “Work, the Ministry, family. But I don’t want you to worry, si? It will pass.”

“Your usual worries don’t keep you up night after night.”

Primo glances back at you over his shoulder, trying to decide if it’s better to accept the truth of that statement or to deny it. “… My usual worries are for my brothers. Not a former Papa and the new Papa.” His shoulders droop and he shakes his head slowly.

“You do know a little something about being both, my love. More than most others ever will.” You offer gently.

“I didn’t take the position from my brother, and I left on my own terms. They are both… così lontano da dove mi trovavo. Ed entrambi troppo testardi per il loro bene.”

“But you do have experience, with more than a little, and with both of them. You have always had their best interests at heart, and they both love and respect you. Perhaps that’s what they really need, just to know that you’re here and that you love them both dearly. That they are always welcome to talk to you.” With the balm worked in, you take a minute to try and loosen the knots in his neck. “You don’t have to have all of the answers, all of the time, you know.”

“No?” He chuckles humourlessly. “Perhaps you tell everyone this. I don’t think they hear the news.”

Any other time, in any other mood, you would have teased him and tried to make him smile. But, right then, all you can think is... he’s right. It’s not just his brothers, it’s everyone. The overwhelming assumption that he will have the answer, that he can fix things, that he will handle it all. It isn’t fair and it isn’t right. If anyone ever deserved a peaceful retirement, it’s him.

“They are both still your brothers. Papa or otherwise. Just as they were when you were Papa. Still Primo. Still Secondo and Terzo.” You lean in close and kiss just below his ear. “That’s who they need, my love. You. That’s all.”

“You’re telling me I overthink too much.” He turns his head just enough to see you.

“It is something you’re very good at.”

He huffs a laugh and tips his head to rest against yours. “Sii gentile con questo vecchio, dolcezza. È da molto tempo che mi preoccupo in questo modo.”

“Allora sembra che sia giunto il momento di lasciare che qualcun altro aiuti a portare quel peso, no?”

Slipping your nightshirt over your head, you toss it past him, on to the chair with his robe. For a long moment, Primo stares at it, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Marvelling at having someone who gives him such consideration, such care, and such gentleness. Up half the night and listening to his troubles. Still using every little trick short of physically dragging him to get him to rest. When he turns to look at you, you’ve already scooted back onto your side of the bed, propped up on an elbow and holding the covers back for him.

“Hai paura che non mantenga la mia promessa?” He teases, sliding into the bed beside you and pulling you closer.

Not that there is any resistance from you, already pressing closer. From the beginning, it had been a habit to settle against his chest. Letting the steady rhythm of his heart lull you to sleep. To hear his voice rumbling in his chest like distant thunder. Safe and warm, wrapped in his arms. But, on nights like this, when his thoughts are raging and his body is tense, you shift up higher. Pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hold him protectively. His arms circling your waist with silent understanding and his own private appreciation for the efforts to let him keep his pride.

“You always keep your word, my heart.” You keep your voice soft, stretching to turn off the bedside lamp and letting the darkness envelope you both. “But the bed feels empty without you here beside me. Sometimes I think about the days when you were still touring. I don’t think I could have faced it. Months without you.”

His head tilts just so, pressing kisses against your warm skin. “I take you with me, amore, or I don’t go at all.”

Your leg hooks over his hip, not looking for anything more. Just the comfortable, uncomplicated closeness that you share. A way to keep him grounded while his thoughts are trying to carry him away. The silent mantra behind everything between you. I’m here. I have you. You are safe. You are loved. You are not alone. One hand trails down his back, tracing meaningless shapes, and the other slides up into his hair. Silver and gold spun into the finest silk. Slipping through your fingers like a whisper. Your nails scratching softly over his scalp. Your own personal magic trick to put him to sleep. Primo practically purrs, melting into your touch.

“Once things are more settled, maybe we should go, hmm?” You whisper softly, lips brushing against his forehead before kissing him again.

“On tour?” Even in the dark, you can still hear the smirk in his tone.

“On vacation.”

“Mmmmm… Somewhere warm, si?” Primo’s slow, gentle kisses trail along your collarbone. “With a beach maybe?”

You can’t help laughing quietly. “Is that your way of saying you’d like to see me in the swimsuit you got me?”

“Or less, tesoro.” He holds you a little closer, running his hands over your back, one stopping to rest on your backside. His words coming slower, half slurred as he finally lets himself relax. “A private beach. Just for us.”

“I’d like that.” The soft sound of your nails scratching gently through his hair follows the rhythm of his breath. Even as it slows and deepens as sleep finally comes to drag him under. The rumble in his chest turns into a soft snore and you’re glad he can’t see the smug look on your face at your victory over his insomnia and anxieties.

He stirs lightly, mumbling, not fully awake. “Don’t worry, amore. I stay until you fall asleep.”

You smile to yourself and say a silent prayer of thanks to the Old One for everything you’ve been blessed with. Holding Primo a little tighter, pressing a kiss to his brow, you close your eyes and let yourself follow him into the peaceful embrace of sleep.

“Dormi bene, mio principe. Ti amo con tutto il cuore. Sei il mio tutto.”

__________________________________________________________

Fiore Mio = my flower

Angelo mio = my angel

Ti prendi sempre cura di me. = You always take care of me.

così lontano da dove mi trovavo. Ed entrambi troppo testardi per il loro bene. = so far from where I was. And both too stubborn for their own good.

Sii gentile con questo vecchio, dolcezza. È da molto tempo che mi preoccupo in questo modo. = Be nice to this old man, sweetness. I've been worrying like this for a long time.

Allora sembra che sia giunto il momento di lasciare che qualcun altro aiuti a portare quel peso, no? = So it seems like it's time to let someone else help carry that burden, no?

Hai paura che non mantenga la mia promessa? = Are you afraid that I won't keep my promise?

Dormi bene, mio principe. Ti amo con tutto il cuore. Sei il mio tutto. = Sleep well, my prince. I love you with all my heart. You are my Everything.

[tinybubblesyay]

A story to be told 🎶

Arthur morgan x Papa Emeritus IV

Word count: 1,530

Summary: Terzo screwed up a summoning ritual, and decides to set Papa up on a date with the cowboy that was accidentally summoned.

Again, this was an assignment for English class that was originally 200-ish words. This is a shitpost taken too seriously. I might write h/cs for their relationship. Who knows. You asked for this.

Reblogs welcome and encouraged! I want as many people as possible to lay eyes on this.

~~~~~

Papa Emeritus III had the task of summoning a new ghoul. Him and his ghouls gathered around the altar, drawing sigils with salt and chanting infernal incantations. A fog drew into the room, a green haze quickly taking over. An incredibly loud crack! And a bright flash of light took over the atmosphere of the room.

The fog dissipated, and revealed a ghoul! No- a cowboy? Sitting on the slab, surrounded by unmasked demons. The man screams.

After introducing himself to the man, Arthur, Terzo introduces him to the ghouls and apologizes for the inconvenience. Arthur, not pleased with the situation, says a few choice words and demands he be sent back home.

Terzo and his ghouls give each other a look. Arthur sighs.

~~~~~

Since Arthur was going to be stuck for a while, Terzo decided it would be a great idea to set Copia up on a blind date with the outlaw. He knew Copia had a thing for tall southern men. Maybe they would get along, considering how helpful Arthur had been at the ministry so far. Helping Primo with the heavier work in his garden, assisting siblings in the library with books on higher shelves, and even helping Terzo with note taking, since Terzo had notoriously bad handwriting, it proves that Arthur is kind at heart!

Of course, Copia had heard rumors of a man who was somehow summoned instead of a ghoul and he asked Terzo to explain. He Chose to tell him that the outlaw 'mysteriously' showed up in the chapel during a ritual with the ghouls. It definitely wasn't a mistake, no! The 1800s cowboy was supposed to be there!

Copia of course told Terzo to take care of him, and send him home as soon as possible.

~~~~~

(Copia's pov)

Copia made sure his papal paint looked pristine, he wanted this date to go well! No matter if it was terzo who set it up. After the incident with the mysterious summoned man, Copia wasn't too keen on trusting Terzo, but the mystery of the blind date was enticing enough. "He's exactly your type!" Terzo had told him. "Tall, rugged exterior, southern accent!"

Copia made his way down from his apartment to the abbey gardens, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. Terzo said he would be in the gazebo on the west side of the church, surrounded by rose bushes and weeping willow trees. On one of the warmer evenings in February, it would be the perfect setting.

He wore his gold embroidered vest, without the matching jacket. He hopes his date won't mind him wearing part of his stage outfit. Copia felt his robes were a bit much for a blind meet.

~~~~~

When copia came upon the gazebo he saw terzo arguing with a man in a black cowboy hat. Presumably his date. Terzo immediately broke the conversation to acknowledge Copia, but Copia was focused on the man in the chair. Terzo was right. He is his type.

~~~~~

(Arthur's pov, moments before.)

Terzo sat Arthur down at the gazebo bench. The underside of the roof was lined with off white stringed lights. The table was set beautifully. Red rose petals strewn over the black tablecloth, a red pillar candle in the center, and two plates set either side of it.

"So what's this all about?" Asked arthur "rose petals, 'fancy garden settin', this seems like it's more than just meeting this 'papa' feller yer introducing me to."

Arthur didn't like this. Not one bit.

~~~~~

In the heat of their arguing, both men almost failed to notice Copia approaching.

"----Ah! Mi fratello! How are you? This is the man I wanted you to meet! Arthur…?"

"Arthur Morgan."

Arthur wasn't sure what to think about the other man in skull makeup.

"Copia? Are you alright?" Prompted Terzo.

As if he were coming out of a trance, "Ah! Yes I'm alright Terzo, thank you for setting this up!" Copia stuttered.

Copia sat down in front of his date. If his paints were any thinner Arthur would be able to see how red his face was.

"No need to thank me," Terzo smiled. "I'll leave you two be. I'll be back with this evening's dinner."

Arthur was left alone with Copia. He had several questions to ask, but Copia spoke first.

"So, erm… how are you?"

"Besides being a hundred and twen'y years from home? Peachy."

"That's a long way, may I ask where you are from?"

"America."

"Where specifically though? Texas?" Copia questioned further.

"Uhm no, somewhere up north I think." Arthur supplied. He wasn't sure of the modern equivalent to where he's from. The U.S. had changed since 1899.

"You… you don't know?"

"Am I supposed to?" A pause. Arthur broke eye contact. He started to roll a rose petal between his thumb and index finger. "I ain't too familiar with all the states."

Copia was confused. "Wait. How exactly did you arrive at the ministry?"

Arthur shuddered at the memory. "I was… summoned? Well, tha's what I've been told. Did Terzo not tell you anythin' about me?"

Copia was appalled. He was going to have Terzo's head by the end of the night. "No?! You're the summoned man? I thought Terzo would have sent you home by now!"

"Hah! Me too, but apparen'ly it's easier said than done." Arthur said, bitterly.

"Easier said?! Satanas! non posso mai fidarmi di quello stronzo per fare il suo lavoro- oh forgive me. As Papa I should have oversaw your 'de-summoning' or better yet, done it myself."

"How long does it take?"

"To set up? A day, two at most. But, it's best to do a ritual like this on a red moon, and the next one is in…" Copia paused to think. He sighs, "3 months."

Arthur was exasperated. "3 months?!"

"I have arrived with dinner! Are we doing well tonight?" Terzo spoke, cheerfully.

The light from fairy lights above them, and the twilight of the sunset only made the deadly glare on Copia and Arthur's faces look sharper. Terzo set the covered bowl on the table awkwardly, and quickly left.

Copia lifted the lid, revealing a steaming bowl of rigatoni.

"Oh! My favorite! Rigatoni!"

Arthur was unsure of the dish before him. It didn't look familiar at all. "What is this…?" He asked

"Pasta! Have you not had any before?" Copia questioned. He spooned some rigatoni onto his plate, silently wishing that Terzo had brought out the parmesan.

"No, I like to stick t'a what I know."

"Try it then!" Copia encouraged. "It's wonderful! I promise!"

Arthur spooned some pasta onto his plate. The aroma was good, full of tomato and spices. Arthur grabbed his fork, and took a bite.

Fucking delicious.

~~~~~

Nearing the end of dinner, the sound of music broke through the air. A symphonic rendition of 'Life Eternal' came from the ghouls that gathered out on the walkway around the gazebo. Copia looked at Arthur and smiled.

"Would you care for a dance?" He asked.

"I ain't much of a dancer, Copia" Arthur spoke lowly.

"I didn't ask if you could, I asked if you'd like to."

"... Alright."

Copia and Arthur stood from their chairs. Arthur took Copias right hand, and placed his hand on Copias waist. Copia set his free hand on Arthur's shoulder, and looked up at him, his grin becoming wider as they swayed.

Copia didn't realize how tall the cowboy was when he was sitting down. He towered over him at his full height. Copia could feel the rumble in his chest when he spoke.

"What is it they're playin'? It sounds pretty."

"An instrumental of a song of mine. It's a… love song of sorts." Copia felt the back of his neck itch.

"Oh." Arthur broke eye contact and looked over at the band. The two of them swayed in silence. At a crescendo, Arthur let go of Copia's waist and spun him. Copia chuckled.

They started to turn as they swayed, picking their feet up and moving with the beat. Copia began to hum along, and the ghouls continued to play beautifully. The violin in their small orchestra came from a preset on Cumulus' keytar.

Her violin solo floated over the two of them. Arthur became enchanted by the shorter man. He spun him again, and subsequently drew more giggles from him. Arthur smiled at Copia's reaction.

The two of them drew closer, the both of them enjoying each other's presence. Copia squeezed Arthur's hand, and Arthur squeezed back, looking Copia in the eyes. He dipped Copia once the song came to a close.

Copia sang the last line of the song with the violin. The gazebo lights reflected in his eyes like stars, Arthur noticed. Arthur helped Copia stand upright.

"Thank you for the dance caro mio." Copia beamed, still holding Arthur's hand.

"Ts'a, it's nothin'. I… enjoyed it. It was fun" Arthur scratched the back of his neck. He looked bashful. "Wouldn't mind an evening like this again." Copia lit up, excited at the prospect.

The ghouls quietly cheered to themselves. Sodo gave a thumbs up to Terzo, who was watching from afar behind a bush. He pumped his fist in excitement, victory!

~~~~~

[ghuleh-witch]

Stay ~ Copia x Female!Reader

Fandom: Ghost Rating: Explict Warnings: NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, blood drinking, oral sex, p in v sex Relationships: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia x Female!Reader Characters: Papa Emeritus IV, Female!Reader Additional Tags: Dracopia, Vampire!Copia, no use of y/n Words: 3,758 Summary: Instead of meeting the Hat Man in your Benedryl-induced dreams, you meet Copia.

Author's Note:

So you know how people say they see the Hat Man when they take Benedryl? Yea, this was inspired by that idea. This is only the second fic I've written in a second-person point of view, and the first fic I've written in the present tense, so I apologize for any mistakes in point of view or tense. I also apologize for any poorly Google-translated Italian you might see in this fic.

AO3

You can’t sleep. The seasonal changes brought about your allergies and the sneezing, sore throat, and watering, stinging eyes made it impossible to get any kind of rest. You sigh as you look at the two small, pink pills in your hand. Benedryl would be sure to put you to sleep and ease your symptoms. You couldn’t sneeze if you were in a coma. You pop the pills and down a glass of water before changing into your pajamas—a pair of cotton shorts that barely covers your ass, and a thin, white t-shirt. You crawl into bed and make yourself cozy in your nest of blankets, pillows, and plushies. The Benedryl starts to take over and as your eyes grow heavy, a yawn escapes you. 

You don’t remember falling asleep, but when you wake again it’s dark. The tv show you fell asleep to is long over leaving you stare at a black screen.You sit up and rub your eyes, looking for your phone to check the time. You feel alright physically but you know something is off. As your eyes squint through the darkness of your bedroom, you spot a  humanoid shadow in the corner near your window. A chill runs down your spine as fear seeps into your bones. The shadow steps forward and the moonlight illuminates its features. The shadow is a man or something that looks like a man at least. He looks older than you, maybe in his late 40s or early 50s. His face is painted in black and white skull paint and his hair is combed back. The mismatched eyes, one a color you can’t discern, and the other the brightest of white stare into you. 

“W-who are you?” You ask, pushing yourself back against your headboard and making yourself appear small. Maybe if you look defenseless whoever is standing in front of you won’t hurt you.

The figure says nothing as he approaches. He’s wearing a dark-colored jacket with fraying around the edges of the lapels, a blue cravat tied around the high-neck black shirt, and tight black pants that were distressed, frayed, and patched dawned his impressive legs. You find the man handsome and fascinating despite the fear surging through you.

The man smirks at you, now just a foot away from the edge of your bed. “I think the better question is what are you doing in my word, cara ?”

“Your world? This is my bedroom,” you said, your eyes darting around as though to confirm you are indeed in your room.

“Hmmm, it may be your room in your world, but you’re not in your world anymore. You’re in mine.” He’s closer, his gloved hands now bracing himself on the bed as he leans forward. He inhales deeply, as though taking in your scent, and lets out a contentful sigh. “You smell delicious, cara .”

“W-what?” You ask, your eyes wide in shock and fear as you lean away from him. “This is a dream. I’ve got to be dreaming.” 

He chuckles, a gloved hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “You better hope and pray that you make it safe back to your own world.”

Your eyes snap open as you sit straight up in bed. The sunlight from the window on the other side of the room is filtering through the sheer curtains, bathing your room in warm light. You let out a sigh of relief. “Just a dream,” you say, falling back against your pillows. You feel your heart racing in your chest, but you can’t tell if it is from fear or the touch of the man from your dreams. You might have been afraid, but you get the sense that the man will not actually hurt you. 

~~~

It is another night of allergies ruining your rest, and two Benedryl later, you are dozing off once more. You fall into the same dream. You wake up in your dark bedroom and the man from your dream days prior is there once more. He stands at the foot of your bed smirking at you.

“Welcome back, cara ,” he says. 

“How did I get back here?” You ask. 

“Your mind, eh, reached out for me,” he says as though he’s not sure how you got back there either.

“Who even are you?”

“Forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Copia. I already know your name.”

“How?”

“Beh, I have my ways,” he says as he walks around to your side of the bed. “You don’t seem as fearful today.”

“Well this is a dream and you can’t hurt me in a dream. It’s not real,” you say almost smugly.

He lets out a chuckle. “Are you sure about that, tesoro ?”

Doubt fills you at his words. This isn’t just any average dream and deep down you know that. This is different; almost like you fell into a parallel universe. 

“Ah I see your gears turning,” Copia says, leaning closer to you. He inhales your scent once more and smiles, flashing your two long, sharp canines. “You still smell delicious.”

Your eyes stay on his mouth and the fangs he bears. “What are you?” You have a suspicion, but you want confirmation.

His lips curve upward. “Why, cara , I am a vampire. I thought it was obvious.” 

“It was not,” you respond. “At least not until I saw the fangs.”

“Are you scared?” 

You stop and think about it. Were you scared? You aren’t sure how you feel now. Fear isn’t the right word though. You don’t think he will hurt you, and the detail about him being a vampire? That didn’t bother you. If anything, it excites you. 

“No,” you answer.

He’s even closer now. He smells of bergamot and cedar and it’s intoxicating. You feel his breath on your skin as he speaks into your ear. “You should be,” he growls as his hand comes to your throat and tilts it away from him, exposing the smooth skin of your neck. You saw a flash of fangs and—

You wake, the sunlight making a bright spot on the ceiling above you that makes you squint. You sit up and look around your room. You’re alone once more. 

“Fuck.”

~~~

You want to see Copia again. After the last dream, or visit, you had with him, you find yourself wanting him. You want his hands all over you. You want his fangs and teeth on your skin. You want him all. 

Unfortunately, you are out of the medication that allows you to have the strange dreams. As you lay in bed, you will yourself to go to sleep. Your mind focuses on Copia—his face, his eyes, his scent. You’re not sure if you will see him in your dreams tonight. Perhaps he only lives in the dreams Benedryl allows you to have. 

Eventually, you fall asleep and wake a few hours later. Your room is dark and quiet. The moonlight gives the room a soft glow. You look at your phone. It’s just after two in the morning. You look around your room and don’t see anyone. Copia isn’t hiding in the shadows waiting to step out towards you. He’s only ever a dream fueled by medication it seems. You sigh sadly as you turn onto your side. You close your eyes, fully intent on falling back asleep, when you hear a voice.

“ Cara ,” it whispers. 

You crack your eyes open and sit up. Your window is open now, letting the cool autumn breeze into your room. “What the—” You say sleepily as you move to get out of bed. But before you can swing your legs off the bed’s edge, he’s standing next to you, dressed in the same outfit as the last two visits. 

“Is this a dream?” You ask as you blink. You almost want to pinch yourself to see if you are awake. 

“No,” Copia says as he steps forward. “I came to your world this time.” 

“Why?” you ask, but you already know the answer.

“Because I have to have you, tesoro ,” he says, his gloved hand coming to grip your chin and tilt it upwards to look at him. “ Sono qui per prendere ciò che è mio .” He leans down and his lips meet yours in a bruising and desperate kiss. 

Your hand comes up and your fingers curl into his jacket, gripping it tight as your lips move against his. You feel the points of his fangs lightly poking at your lips as he kisses you. His tongue darts into your mouth, tasting you as you let a soft whimper escape your throat. His teeth nip at your bottom lip before trailing down your jawline to your earlobe. You feel this breath in your ear and it sends a delightful shiver down your spine. His fangs graze down your neck before stopping just over your jugular. 

A sharp pain causes you to gasp and try to push away from him. It hurts so much and you want to get away. He grips you tightly, holding you to him making escape impossible. It feels like hot daggers piercing your skin and sending molten steel through your veins. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you feel trickles of blood run down your neck onto your shoulders, back, and chest. You feel Copia sucking your life essence into his mouth, and as he keeps going, the pain dissipates into pleasure. The molten steel finds its way to your sex and you can feel your wetness pooling there. As the endorphins flood your body, you moan, tilting your head back even further to give him more access. You feel his lips move upward into a smile against your skin. He seems pleased with how you are taking this now. 

His mouth pulls back from your neck and you feel his tongue lick the puncture marks he made. He peppers kisses back up your neck and jaw before coming to your lips again. The coppery taste of your blood lingers on his lips as he crawls onto the bed. Copia's knees are on either side of your thighs as he pushes your upper body back down onto the mattress. 

“Tell me to stop and I will. Tell me to go and I will,” Copia says when the kiss breaks. His hand finds its way under your night shift and you feel the leather against your skin. 

“Please,” you say almost needily. “Don’t stop. Stay.” The idea of him stopping is unfathomable. You can’t stop. You need to go further—need that release that’s waiting for you. You need him and nothing else. 

He says nothing as he pushes your shirt up over your breasts. Your nipples grow hard at the sudden exposure to cool air. He smirks at you before dragging his tongue lazily over one of the buds. Your head lolls back at the sensation just as he takes the nipple between his lips and sucks on it. You let out a gasp as his teeth teases the sensitive skin. Before you become too lost in the feeling, he’s pulling your shirt off, gently helping lift your head and arms to remove it. The shirt drops out of sight on the floor as Copia's lips return to your breasts. As his mouth toys with you, his fingers slip under the waistband of your shorts and panties and finds your center. They slide up and down your slit and it’s like the floodgates open in you. There’s so much pleasure in the simple touch, and you can’t even comprehend how good it will feel when he’s finally in you. He lifts his head and you see his eyes blown out with lust.

“So wet for me,” Copia says as his finger finds your clit. The motion drags a moan from your throat, your eyes rolling back into your head. “And so responsive too.”

“Please,” you whine, arching your hips into his hand.

“Please what, dolcezza ?” He asks. “Use your words. Tell me what you want.” 

“You,” you say. “I want your fingers, your mouth, your cock. I want you.” 

He chuckles, his tongue flicking over a nipple. “And you will have me,” he says. “When I decide you’re good and ready.” 

You whimper knowing he’s going to tease you into oblivion. He’s going to bring you to the edge but pull you back just before you tumble over. He’s going to decide when you can let go and you’re okay with that. 

“I wonder if you taste as good as your blood tastes, eh,” Copia says as his lips move from your breasts and presses kisses down your stomach. He pulls his hand out of your pants and tugs your shorts and lacey panties down together. They join the shirt on the floor. Copia’s eyes roam over your body, taking in every detail of you. “ Bella ,” he breathes, his fingers trailing down your chest before slipping between your thighs.

He rubs your clit, making you moan again and buck your hips. Copia smirks as he moves back and lowers his head. He gives you one last look before his mouth is on your pussy. His tongue flicks over your clit and swirls around it as his hands hold your hips down, preventing you from bucking against his face. You moan, your own hands finding their way into his hair and gripping his mousy locks. You’re getting close. You feel the pressure building in your core, aching to snap and come undone. You know you’re not going to last much longer when he slips his tongue into you.

“I’m close,” you pant, your fingers twisting in his hair and tugging. You can feel your release reaching its crest, and before you go over that peak, Copia pulls away from you. You let out a whine in frustration as your fingers are forced to let go of his hair.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he teases, his tongue licking his lips as he looks up at you. His skull paint is smeared around his mouth allowing the pink of his lips to show through the mix of now gray paint. “I’m not done with you just yet, cara .” His mouth moves to your inner thigh and he presses more kisses to your skin. He glances up at you before sinking his fangs into your thigh.

You are prepared for the feeling this time. That sharp, searing pain returns and you let out a whimper, but like the first time he bit you, the pain fades into a feeling of ecstasy. You watch as he takes your blood, his eyes are closed as though he is relishing in the taste. His mouth pulls away from your thigh before he licks the puncture wounds clean. 

“I can’t decide what tastes better. You or your blood. Both are exquisite,” he says, crawling back up to you and kissing your lips.

You taste a mix of your blood and your juices on his lips and it turns you on even more. He pulls away from you and is kneeling between your legs. You watch as he pulls the blue cravat from his neck before he peels off the jacket he’s wearing. You sit up and bat his fingers away from the buttons of his shirt. His eyes focus on you as you unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders. Your fingers trace the lines of a “666” tattoo about his nipple before replacing them with your lips. You trail kisses along his chest as Copia’s fingers thread through your hair. His fingers curl into a fist and tugs, pulling your head back from his chest so you’re looking into his eyes now. His mismatched eyes bore into yours before capturing your lips with his again.

Your hands slip between your bodies and begin to work the laces of his pants. You take the time to stroke his length that’s straining against the material of his jeans. He lets out a groan at your touch. You pull apart the bow that’s knotted together and begin loosening the laces as his tongue works its way into your mouth. You moan as his hands move yours away from him. Copia pulls back from you and slips off the bed, pushing the tight pants down his legs. He’s not wearing any underwear, you note. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve been with, and your desire skyrockets. You subconsciously lick your lips and his eyes watch you intently. 

“Do you like what you see, tesoro ?” He asks as he climbs back into your bed, positioning himself between your spread legs. 

“I do,” you answer, looking him up and down. Your pussy throbs with need. You need him more than you ever needed anyone before. 

He hums in response as his hands come to rest on the bed on either side of your head, caging you in as he holds himself above you. He leans down and kisses your lips almost tenderly this time. “Last chance,” he said. “I’ll go if you want me to.”

“Stay,” you say. “Stay with me.” 

His eyes are ablaze with carnal desire as he pushes himself back up, taking his cock in his hand and stroking it a couple of times before lining up with your entrance. He slides the head up and down your slit. The moan that left your mouth turns into a whimper as you lift your hips in want. He smirks at you, his eyes flicking to your face as he slowly pushes into you. He stretches you, creating a delicious sting as he fills you. 

“You’re so tight,” he pants as he bottoms out in you. “ Cazzo …”

You are in complete bliss. You didn’t think it was possible to feel as good as you do now. “You feel so good,” you breathe. “Oh god, you feel so good.” 

He pulls out slowly, almost as though he’s teasing you on purpose before he pushes back into you. You moan as your legs wrap around his waist, pushing him deeper into you. He lets out a low groan, his eyes closing in a moment of bliss before he begins to move. His thrusts are hard and fast making you whimper and moan. Your eyes close, taking in every little detail of how this feels when you feel his hand on your cheek. 

“Open your eyes, cara,” he says in a low voice. “I want to see your eyes when you cum.” 

You obey and open your eyes to meet his. His hand falls away from your cheek and moves to your breast, massaging it and pinching the nipple as he continues to move in and out of you. You let out a small gasp at his touch and watch as his fingers lightly trail down your stomach and to your mound before finding your clit. He readjusts one of your legs, putting it up on his shoulder and allowing him to push into you even deeper.

You cry out at the new sensation, your fingers gripping the sheets under you while one of your hands grips his arm. Your nails dig into his skin so hard you think you’ll draw blood. You feel your core tighten as a familiar pressure begins to build in you. As he begins to stimulate your clit, you can’t help but let go. Your orgasm is intense as it burns through you, wiping your mind of all thought and making you see white for a second. You clench around his cock, making him moan as he stills in you for a second before continuing to fuck you. 

“That’s right, tesoro , cum on my cock,” he purrs. “ Cazzo , you look divine when you cum.” 

You can’t form a single response. All you can think about is how he is fucking you and how good it feels. “Oh god,” you moan as he continues to drive into you. His thrusts are relentless as he buries his face in your neck, nipping at the bite marks he created. He reopens the wound and drinks from you again, his cock twitching inside you. You start to feel a second orgasm building in you as he takes your blood once more.

He moans as he pulls away from your neck, his lips bloody as he kisses you hard. His thrusts become erratic and you know he’s close to losing it as well. His face scrunches as though he’s concentrating on something before thrusting into you sharply one…two…three more times. He’s panting something in Italian that you can’t make out. You feel him spill inside you and it’s enough to set off your own orgasm, milking him of all he has to give. He lets out a low groan as his forehead rests against yours, his eyes closed. 

The two of you are silent allowing the sound of your heavy breaths to fill the room. He opens his mismatched eyes and stares into yours. 

“ Sorprendente ,” he whispers, his lips finding yours again. He pulls out of you and moves to lie next to you. You let out a small whine at the loss of him before you roll onto your side to look at him. You know he isn’t going to stay. This isn’t his world after all. 

“Will I see you again?” You ask, hoping and praying you will. 

“You will,” he confirms, his gloved hand resting on your cheek. “I wish I could stay, but the sun will be up soon and I must return to my own world.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

You didn’t know how soon was soon, but you trust him. 

“Sleep, cara , I’ll stay as long as I can,” he says, this thumb stroking your cheek gently. It’s as though he has a hold over you and you obey, closing your eyes even though you didn’t want to. You feel his hand leave your face and rest on your hip as you slip into sleep.

When your eyes open again, it’s daylight out and Copia is gone. You’re convinced it was all a dream, but when you start to come to your senses, you realize you’re naked and your pajamas are still on the floor. You slip out of bed and go to the mirror hanging on your closet door. There are two small puncture marks on your neck and on your thigh. Your finger runs over the tiny bumps on your neck and you smile. You will see him again and you hope it’s in his world so you can stay as long as you wish.

Translations: Cara: dear/darling Tesoro: treasure Sono qui per prendere ciò che è mio: I’m here to take what’s mine. Dolcezza: sweetness Cazzo: fuck Sorprendente: amazing

[severineofsalem]

My Good Papa

Pairing: Papa Emeritus IV / Fem!Reader

Summary: Popia gets annoyed and comes to you for comfort. It turns into something else. (I am terrible with summaries and titles. 🧍‍♀️)

Word Count: 1k

Warning(s): NSFW 18+, papa kink, blowjob, reader and Popia are both switchy, poorly translated Italian, not proof read.

AO3 Link

A/N: Well yeehaw. My first Ghost fic. Even in spirit form, Nihil is still a dick.

Thunderous knocking clashed against your dormitory door, startling you from your treatise. Before you are able to get out of your desk chair, the rustic door flies open, slamming shut after the person.

A frustrated Copia filled your view. His furrowed brows made his wrinkles more prominent. The look in his mismatched eyes made frustration seem like an understatement. He flopped face-first onto the full-sized bed that took up most of the room, grumbling blurry words in his mother language. “Well hello to you too.” At least he knocked.

“Cara mia, that cazzo di merda. He is really starting to-” Cutting off his own sentence, Copia sighed seethingly. The rage filling the once relaxing atmosphere was perturbing. “Copia…?” A mop of brown, salt-and-peppered hair rose from the bed. His gaze meeting yours, softening. “What is wrong?” You slowly made your way to him, easing onto the squeaky mattress beside his laying form. “That dickhead Nihil. Who knew the dead could be so annoying?” The higher up shook his head. “Well if it is Nihil we are talking about…What did he say this time?”

He perked onto his side to face you, bringing a gloved hand to twirl his hair. “The fucking same shit he always says. I am Papa now. He needs to accept it.” He continued rambling, but you didn’t pay attention. You couldn’t help it. The way he growled those infuriate toned words set something ablaze in you. His face matched his vocals. You took notice that he was wearing your favorite ripped and roughed up pants. They complimented the thickness of his thighs deliciously.

It wasn’t often Copia showed this side of himself. He usually came crumbling to you for comfort, comfort you gladly gave. There was just something more firm with this. Something domineering. You wanted to feed the fire that roused inside him. “Yes. You are Papa. My Papa.” You slide your hand against his arm. He caught on to the look in your eyes. A look he knew all too well. It took him by surprise, but he quickly stopped his eyebrows from shooting upward. What he couldn’t stop was the growing smirk.

“I am your Papa. I am a good papa, sì?” He leaned in close, the hand in his hair reaching its way to clasp your thigh. The ferocity that had captivated his mind dissolved into a different kind. “Yes. You are the best Papa.” There was no mistaking the sultry in your voice.

“If he is so good, doesn’t he deserve a reward, eh?” He barely said his last word before you smashed your lips together. The hand on your thigh grasped harder into your flesh, eliciting a muffled moan from your throat. The contrast of his now kneading hand with the roughness of the kiss made your knees weak.

You push yourself away from him, looking directly into his amorous orbs. Placing your palms against the front of his detailed vest, shoving him on to his back. The old mattress screeching with the movement. You both rushed to pull off his layers, ridding all of the upper half. Fuck, it was a sight to see. Skin sunken around the collarbone, the 666 tattoo that was inked above his standing nipple, the happy trail that led to where your intentions planned to be. The sight was completely mouth watering.

“Hmm, what exactly are you thinking, my dark sovereign? How do you want me?” You leaned down, nibbling along his chest and stomach. The action had him writhing and his breath hitching, hands holding onto you. Anticipation was buzzing like electricity through the air. “Oh I think you know, cara mia. Let’s put that mouth to, eh, use?” You landed a kiss on the center of his chest, fingers working on the tie of his pants. A bulge already tenting the crotch of the black material. You smiled to yourself, nuzzling it. “Merda.” A hand grabbing ahold of your hair, tugging.

You took no time pulling out the hardened member. Copia could barely keep up the act. He nearly bit off his lower lip trying not to whine. You licked a stripe against a jutting vein, wrapping your tongue around him. He threw his head back as you sucked the sensitive shaft. Precum melted against your taste buds. The grip on your hair tightened as you began to bob your head. The tip of his cock buried against the back of your throat as you lowered yourself as far as you could. Light brown pubes tickled your nose as you nearly choked. Mouth full, wet, and warm. It was dizzying. You closed your eyes, relishing the way he felt as you swallowed. A strangled groan tore from Copia.

“Let me fuck your throat, sister. Please?” You could tell by the way his hands shook that he was holding himself back from fucking your throat raw. The double tap on his thigh was all he needed. His other hand grabbed your jaw, thrusting into your face. Spurs of moans and curse words erupted from him. Tears pooled in your lower lash line as you looked up. The paint on his lips smeared, nose flared. “Such a good follower. Letting your- ahh! Your Papa use you. Fuuuck.”

Tears ran down your face, soaking his pants along with streams of saliva that escaped your mouth as he pounded into you. Your whines and moans only added to his pleasure. The way he relentlessly thrusted into your mouth had you pulsing. Your own pleasure sleeking your thighs under your habit. You sucked harsher around him. It was getting harder to breathe through your nose. Your jaw was beginning to hurt. You raked your fingers up his belly, digging into the plush abdomen. Goosebumps raised as Copia’s cock twitched.

You intentionally hummed around the throbbing member, causing Copia to yell out. “F-fuck. I’m cu-umming. Oh merda. Yes sister. Y-yes.” His body racked with waves of satisfaction, legs kicking around you. Loads of cum coated your throat, making it somehow more stuffed. You happily swallowed all he gave. As soon as he stopped shaking and the hands on you loosened, you let go with a pop, licking your lips and catching your breath. You crawled up to him, landing on his torso, showering his heated face with loving kisses. You met his gaze, seeing only adoration.

You gave him an innocent look, “Was I good Papa?” That adoration was quickly joined with a dark glint. “Sì, cara mia.” He paused, letting out a deep sigh. He grabbed your hips firmly. “Now, sister. Get on your hands and knees."

You do not have permission to repost/upload onto another site.

[thorxthunder]

Copia with an S/O who has a fear of abandonment?

AHHH THIS IS MY FIRST GHOST FANFIC!!!

 thank you so much for requesting this and please, to anyone reading, please request more Ghost fics! I write for everyone (Papas,Ghouls,Sister Imperator)! ilygsm 🤍

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

To The Ocean (Cardinal Copia x G/N Reader)

tags: fear of abandonment, hurt/comfort, misunderstandings, Copia being a sweetheart, poorly translated Italian (it wouldn’t be a ghost fic without it)

Word Count: 2.4k

You possess an astute observant nature that never fails to pick up on various things in your life. This keen perception has both positive and negative aspects, especially in a relationship with Copia. The bond between you and Copia has evolved to a point where you can understand each other's thoughts and emotions without verbal communication. While this unspoken connection is a beautiful aspect of your relationship, it also comes with challenges. There are times when important conversations remain unspoken, and certain matters that demand acknowledgment and expression are left hanging in the air, longing to be addressed and heard.

Like now. The signs of something bothering Copia become quite evident to you through his telltale actions. When he rolls his hair between his fingers or nervously taps his foot on the floor, it's a clear indication of his inner unrest. Even more obvious is the way he’s gazing out of the window, seemingly lost in his thoughts. During these moments, it's as if he retreats to a far-off place within himself, contemplating the vast expanse of the sky.

Though he remains quiet during these contemplative moments, his emotional turmoil is anything but subtle to you. It's akin to observing a restless bird in a cage, anxiously fluttering about and repeatedly bumping into the metal bars, desperately trying to find a way out of its confinements. Despite his attempts to mask his feelings, you feel the restlessness and unease that reside within him, yearning to be understood and acknowledged. It's evident that he struggles to communicate these thoughts and emotions, making it all the more important for you to be receptive and offer him the comfort and support he needs to open up.

You find yourself grappling with a familiar fear, one that you've carried with you for a long time — the fear that the people you love will inevitably leave you. This feeling has been deeply ingrained in your thoughts, and it makes you hesitant to confront Copia about what's going on with him. You can't help but hold onto that gut feeling, despite the connection you share with him and the trust you place in him.

Inwardly, you struggle with feelings of inadequacy, believing that you have little to offer Copia in the face of life's uncertainties. You recognize that you don't possess the power to control his destiny, the inevitable grip of loneliness, the unpredictability of illness, or the finality of death. These factors are beyond your control, leaving you feeling vulnerable and helpless.

Yet, even in the midst of your anxieties, you trust Copia wholeheartedly, entrusting him with your life and even your mortality. However, a looming thought hangs over you. A feeling of if he were not Papa and had chosen a different path as a member of the clergy, your lives might have taken a different turn and he would never be yours.

Despite your fear, you gather the courage to inquire about Copia's well-being one day when you notice him drifting away, seemingly lost in his thoughts again. You gently reach out to touch his shoulder, a gesture that has become familiar between you two, and he startles slightly before turning to face you. It's as if he hadn't realized he was daydreaming at all.

Summoning your bravery, you softly ask, "Amo? You alright?" Concern lingers in your voice, hoping to encourage him to open up and share his thoughts, even if you battle your inner reservations about potential heartache and the unknown.

As Copia's eyes soften from his initial surprise, he responds quietly, reassuring you with, "Yes, mio sole. I'm fine."

However, your concern remains evident, and you express your worries about him, frowning slightly. Copia, though initially reluctant, can't help but show signs of something bothering him as he frowns in return and appears on the verge of speaking his mind.

You wait expectantly, your brow creased, encouraging him to share what's troubling him. Copia eventually relents and admits, "It's just that... I... I need to go somewhere for a while."

His words hit you like a sudden shock, almost knocking you back emotionally. You try to maintain your composure, saying nothing, but you hope that your expression reflects the turmoil within you. Your shock leaves you speechless, afraid that if you open your mouth, you might reveal your pain in a painfully desperate manner. The temptation to ask, "Why are you leaving me?" or "I can't believe you're doing this," lingers, but you resist, not wanting to push him away further.

Internally, you wrestle with a mix of emotions, feeling your face burning hot with anger and frustration. You despise yourself for the vulnerability you're displaying and for hoping against hope that things might be different this time. You knew deep down that history had a way of repeating itself, and you were once again left behind, watching your loved ones depart from your life. An old and familiar anxiety resurfaces, and a small, resentful voice inside you even tries to convince you that somehow you deserve this outcome.

In the midst of this emotional turmoil, you make a valiant effort to control your reactions, focusing on steady breathing to keep yourself composed. You realize that there's a need to communicate and understand Copia's feelings more deeply, but the fear of being hurt and abandoned once again makes it challenging to find the right words. For now, you do your best to keep your emotions in check, attempting to process the situation before responding further.

Copia's gaze meets yours, and you observe the range of emotions that flicker across your face - from serenity mingled with sadness, to surprise, and finally settling into perplexity. Feeling the mounting turmoil inside, you turn away swiftly, not wanting him to see your vulnerable state, fearing that you might break down or overreact if he lingers too long.

However, Copia is not willing to let you walk away without understanding what's going on. He calls out urgently, "Mio Sole? Mio Sole!" His footsteps close in on you, but you ignore his pleas, determined to create distance between you two. The need to escape, to let Copia see your back for once, drives you forward, even though you're unsure of your destination.

Suddenly, you feel his fingers clutching onto your forearm as he catches up with you. In a surge of emotion, you forcefully pull away with a growl, demanding, "Just go!" Your heart aches with conflicting feelings, torn between wanting him near and pushing him away to protect yourself.

“Y/N! Attendere prego!” Copia desperation is evident as he pleads with you to wait, a side of him you've never witnessed before. It shakes you to your core, causing you to stop abruptly, your whole body tensed with unresolved emotions, fists clenched tightly. He positions himself in front of you, seeking eye contact, but you continue to avert your gaze, feeling a sense of rejection even though you were the one trying to distance yourself.

Despite your efforts to remain strong and detached, his request to look at him strikes a chord. Your jaw remains steeled, but you sense a vulnerability creeping through your defenses. Copia's determination, evident in his slow but firm words, urges you to confront your emotions. Reluctantly, you allow your eyes to meet his, and in that moment, a surge of emotions flows between you, connecting you in a way that neither can deny.

“Per favore, mio sole, perché corri?” As Copia persistently pleads for your attention, you can't ignore him any longer. His 'please' tugs at your heart, causing you to look up and meet his earnest gaze. The moment your eyes connect, your anger begins to fade away, and you're left with a mix of conflicting emotions. It's painful to confront his gaze, as it stirs up a sense of emptiness within you, leaving your mind feeling numb and detached.

Copia's gentle tone attempts to coax you out of your emotional shell, making you feel like a vulnerable creature hiding from the world.

Despite your attempt to push him away, Copia refuses to leave and reaches out to you. Feeling a surge of indignation, you lash out at him, interpreting his desire to go somewhere as a desire to leave you behind once. The thought that he might leave you hurts, and you struggle to voice the true depths of your feelings, afraid of the vulnerability it may expose.

Seeing your anger subside, Copia expresses his genuine intent, reassuring you that leaving you is not what he wants.

As Copia searches for the right words, his eyes take on a wistful expression, indicating the yearning he has to experience the freedom he once knew. “I don’t want to leave you. Why would I want to do that?” Copia starts, and pauses for a moment, glancing away, his hands wringing together as he tries to find his words. “It’s just that.. mi manca... non essere Papa volte. I’m always stuck on a schedule. I’m always doing what other people want me to do. Voglio solo essere libero. It gets so hard sometimes performing when I feel like the only reason I’m doing it is to stay alive. When I wasn’t papa, I could go anywhere I wanted to. The beach, the movies… hell, even a restaurant. Now I’m always on close surveillance. I’m not used to staying in one place for long. È difficile per me.”

Listening to his heartfelt words, you begin to grasp the inner conflict he's facing. Though it doesn't make your hurt feelings disappear completely, you start to understand the complexity of his emotions. Copia's vulnerability opens a window into his struggles, making it more apparent that his desire to escape isn't about leaving you, but rather about finding a sense of liberation from the weight of his responsibilities as Papa.

In the wake of your emotional outburst, you find yourself feeling like the world's biggest idiot.

It's not really about me at all, is it? How did I make this about me?

You’re almost ebarrassed by Copia's honesty and ashamed that your insecurities were so glaringly obvious. You're genuinely upset for Copia, realizing that you jumped to conclusions without fully understanding his perspective.

"I mean..I'm…an idiot”

Copia smirks at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Probabilmente." He brings his hands up, holding your face between them, his thumbs stroking your temples lightly. His expression turns serious again.

"Mio Sole, I'm sorry you feel that I may leave you at any moment. But I promise you this: Lo non ti lascerò mai. I've been alive for a long time, and nothing has ever made me as happy as being with you does. Sei molto importante per me. Ho bisogno di te... davvero." Copia's fierce gaze softens, and he leans in, placing his lips gently on your forehead in an unadorned, reverent show of affection.

You gasp in a small, shaky breath, blushing fiercely once again. Your eyes feel strangely wet.

"This is too much. I don't deserve any of this," you express, feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of his love and the depth of your emotions.

“Ti meriti il ​​mondo e altro ancora. niente ci separerà. Nemmeno la morte. Quando verrà il nostro momento, gioiremo nell'aldilà. Niente brilla come te.” Copia's touch and words reassure you, but the weight of your insecurities still lingers. You can't help but wonder how someone like him could care so deeply for someone like you. In this vulnerable moment, you find solace in his embrace, cherishing the connection you share and hoping that, somehow, you can learn to accept and reciprocate the love he offers.

Copia's words cut through the walls you've built around your heart, reaching somewhere raw and vulnerable inside you. Despite your difficulty in accepting kindness and affection, his impassioned gaze holds you in place, leaving you feeling both small and humbled. The intensity of his love leaves you at a loss for words, and you can only respond in the way you know how: with a tender kiss that speaks volumes of your feelings.

As your lips meet Copia's, the sweetness and warmth of the moment envelop you both. When you finally part, you find him smiling at you, his face radiating adoration and joy. His expression tugs at your heartstrings, causing it to do a little flip flop. You're filled with overwhelming love for this man in your arms, grateful that Lucifer brought Copia into your life, even if it was initially just a calculated match by the ministry. What you share with him is true love and adoration, something his brothers may have never experienced with their prime movers.

Feeling a newfound sense of hope and security, you realize that Copia is here of his own accord, choosing to be with you, and it’s for good.

"Hey, come back here." Copia playfully taps your forehead, bringing you back to the present. “What I meant was, I want to go somewhere with you. I’m just restless.. Ho bisogno di viaggiare di nuovo. Ma voglio che sia con te.”

“Of course, Amo... Where do you wanna go?”

“To a lake or the ocean, I think. I miss the water.”

"Okay," you respond, your heart swelling with happiness at the thought of embarking on this journey with Copia, exploring new places, and sharing unforgettable experiences together.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Mio Sole: My Sunshine

Amo: Love

Attendere prego: Please wait

Per favore, mio sole, perché corri?: Please, my sunshine, why are you running?

mi manca... non essere Papa volte: I miss… not being Papa sometimes.

Voglio solo essere libero: I just want to be free

È difficile per me: It’s difficult for me.

Probabilmente: Probably

Lo non ti lascerò mai: I will never leave you

Sei molto importante per me. Ho bisogno di te... davvero: You are very important to me. I need you…truly.

Ti meriti il ​​mondo e altro ancora. niente ci separerà. Nemmeno la morte. Quando verrà il nostro momento, gioiremo nell'aldilà. Niente brilla come te: You deserve the world and more. nothing will separate us. Not even death. When our time comes, we will rejoice in the afterlife. Nothing shines like you.

Ho bisogno di viaggiare di nuovo. Ma voglio che sia con te: I need to travel again. But I want it to be with you.

[transpsyche]

I just posted my very first fanfiction to AO3!

I realized recently that there aren't a lot of reader insert fanfics for FTM Ghost fans, especially those like me who have vaginismus, vulvodynia, and/or pelvic floor dysfunction. So I wrote something!

This was very self indulgent, but I hope that it tickles someone else's taint as much as it has tickled mine.

Mentire è un peccato, mio caro ragazzo (2453 words) by zephzeph

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Ghost (Sweden Band) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cardinal Copia | Papa Emeritus IV/You, Cardinal Copia | Papa Emeritus IV/Reader Characters: Cardinal Copia | Papa Emeritus IV, Reader, You Additional Tags: FTM Reader, Reader-Insert, Dom/sub Undertones, Poorly Translated Italian (Ghost Sweden Band), Gay Sex, Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Sex Club, thigh fucking, Frottage, vulvodynia, Vaginismus, pelvic floor dysfunction, Trans Male Character, Transgender, Self-Insert Summary: On vacation in Italy you take a leap of faith and try to have sex again after years of pain. Not knowing what you were in for, you decide to a approach the only man fully clothed in the whole building. A man who only goes by "Papa" and wants you to have the night of your life.

[ghostieboi1]

Resurrection

Teen!Reader & Primo/Secondo/Terzo Genre: Scenarios, fluff, hurt/comfort Characters: Primo, Secondo, Terzo, Copia, Sister Imperator, Mountain, Swiss, and Aether Summary: Reader is the child of Primo/Secondo/Terzo (depending on the scenario) and they react to their father getting resurrected. Reader is also either a few days/weeks from turning 18 or recently turned 18 (so they would've initially died when they were around 13 or 14). Warnings: GN!Reader, SFW, crying, I'm putting more emphasis on the HURT/COMFORT part, poorly translated Italian, all gifs not mine A/N: Whoa, two Ghost fics in two days? I'm getting productive before my annual hibernation lol

Primo

You had caught a rumor of one of the Papas getting resurrected from the dead but it was only a guess who it was going to be. It wasn't until you overheard Copia and Sister Imperator talking in Copia's office about the Papa they resurrected; your father.

Running down the corridors of the Ministry to Primo's old bedroom, your adrenaline spiking beyond belief for the first time in years. When you reached the door, a ghoul was standing in front of the door, clearly on guard. It was Mountain and he immediately recognized you.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N), but I can't let you in yet." Mountain warned but his voice was soft, sympathetic even.

"Please, I have to see him. I need to know if he's okay." You practically begged, you felt your voice shake and knew you'd start becoming emotional any minute.

Mountain opened his mouth to protest but the way you looked so desperate and the fact he knew you were so young when Primo died... He eventually just sighed and stepped aside.

"Be careful with him though, he's still trying to understand everything." Mountain warned, gently placing his hand on your shoulder before letting you enter.

You sighed before opening the door, preparing for honestly anything. What you saw made your heart feel whole again. Primo was sitting on his sofa, his favorite and prized flowers in front of him as he inspected each pedal for any damage. He had heard the door open and shut but didn't look up right away, when he did, the expression he held softened.

"(Y/N)...?" Primo asked, his voice was a little gravelly but you expected that.

All you could do was nod, not trusting your voice. Primo stood up and made his way to you, it was a little slow but you knew he was just trying to wrap his head around everything. When he was close enough, you hugged him, allowing yourself to cry now.

"Oh, mio caro..." Primo sighed, returning the hug. His hand gently placed itself on the back of your head. "I'm so sorry I missed out on so much." His voice was now shaky.

"It's not your fault." You muttered, you were trying to not cling too hard to him because you didn't know how he was physically. But if you could, you'd squeeze him for dear life.

"I know, but I still feel awful about it." Primo said, he was definitely crying now too.

"I missed you." You muttered, afraid to let go of him.

"I know, mio caro, but I'm here now." Primo comforted, kissing the top of your head.

You finally pulled away and smiled at him, he smiled back.

"(Y/N), could you tell me who took care of my garden while I was gone?" Primo asked, glancing at his flower pot.

"I did, with the help of Mountain. It made me feel like you were still here even if it was just my imagination." You admitted, chuckling a little.

"Well, you did an amazing job, mio caro." Primo said, taking your hand in his. "I'm sorry I left so sudden and when you were still so young, but let's try to make up for time, sÌ?"

"Sì, Papa." You nodded, wiping your tears away.

Secondo

You had caught a rumor of one of the Papas getting resurrected from the dead but it was only a guess who it was going to be. It wasn't until you overheard Copia and Sister Imperator talking in Copia's office about the Papa they resurrected; your father.

Instead of running, you hurriedly walked towards Secondo's bedroom. You didn't want to hold your breath and hope it was true because you had been lied to by Sister Imperator before, not Copia so much unless he was trying to protect you.

But when you saw Swiss standing in front of the door, a place he normally wouldn't be, you knew for sure he was back. You slowed your walking down a bit as you got closer, Swiss was already giving you a look that said "I'm sorry".

"(Y/N), please..." Swiss muttered, shaking his head slowly.

"Please what? I deserve to see him." You said sternly, now standing directly in front of him.

"I know, but Papa didn't want him to have any visitors yet and honestly, how do you think he'll react when he sees you—" You cut Swiss off.

"He deserves to know. You weren't here when he was but he wasn't informed about anything, everyone left him in the dark and I will not let that continue now that he's back." You practically ordered, raising your voice a little.

It wasn't common for humans to be able to scare ghouls, but it seemed you had this ability to do just that. Swiss didn't want to argue with you anymore and just decided to let you enter the room, you thanked him and apologized because you did feel bad for yelling.

Secondo immediately looked up at the door when it opened, he didn't seem to recognize you right away until he thought about it. The way you were standing and your features were all too familiar, then it hit him, but he was a little too slow.

"Hello, father." You greeted, your voice was soft because you didn't want to startle him and because you were nervous.

Secondo stood up and began walking to you. "(Y/N)," he trailed off as he glanced over you. "You... You've grown." He chuckled, a stark difference from him before.

You nodded, chuckling with him. You weren't sure what to feel right now, all you knew was that before long, you had tears falling down your face. "Oh, ragazzino." Secondo cooed, bringing you in for a hug.

This sudden show of this much love coming from Secondo felt weird but you didn't care, maybe he's realized that life can be short and to accept everything as is now that he's back, he wants to fix anything that may have been broken.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/N). I wish I had been there for you just a little bit more back then, but I can try to make it up to you if you'll let me." Secondo offered, gently swaying you side to side as if you were still a baby.

You nodded, smiling a little. "I thought you were too stone cold to do anything like that." You joked, chuckling a little.

"Never, just was too busy. But if I was, Hell must've warmed me up then." Secondo joked back, there was a slight shake in his voice.

"I thought I'd lost you forever." You sobbed, clutching his robes.

"Oh, mio caro. You could never lose me, even in death. I'll always watch over you." Secondo comforted, the shake in his voice more prominent. "Ti amo, (Y/N), tanto."

"Anch'io ti amo, Papa." You whispered back, smiling the best you could.

Terzo

You had caught a rumor of one of the Papas getting resurrected from the dead but it was only a guess who it was going to be. It wasn't until you overheard Copia and Sister Imperator talking in Copia's office about the Papa they resurrected; your father.

Dread filled you, not because he was back, but because you were afraid how the Ministry would treat him again. Regardless, you went to find him. You had to remain mostly professional still because you were pretty much the only person in the Ministry up for being elected Cardinal but you had to wait until eighteen to be officially a Cardinal.

Once you made it to the last corner to his room though, you changed. Now desperate to see him again, you ran for the door and, despite Aether telling you not to, opened it to see Terzo staring at the wound around his neck in a mirror.

Terzo noticed the door opening immediately turned around to look at whoever opened his bedroom door so suddenly. Aether followed you in and tried ushering you away but you lightly argued with him but it wasn't until Terzo told Aether you could be here that the ghoul left and shut the door.

You stared at him in disbelief, he was alive despite how they killed him. You also seemed to be taller than him, which kind of surprised you.

"I left you alone for, how many years, and you had the audacity to grow taller than your old man." Terzo teased, crossing his arms in front of him.

You chuckled, it was airy and more like a sigh but the smile on your face let him know you were happy. "Are you okay? Your, uh..." You trailed off, glancing at his neck.

"Oh, this thing? Beats me how they managed to do it but I'm also not going to question it because our Dark Lord works in mysterious ways." Terzo sighed, gently touching the stitches.

You fell silent, not sure what to say or do. Terzo noticed, the look on his face changed from confident and cocky to concern and sadness. He sighed before opening his arms, allowing you to hug him. You didn't hesitate on returning the gesture and clung to him as if he was just in your mind and you would never see him again. You began crying, unable to hold your emotions back.

"Oh, amore mio. I'm so sorry I left you alone when you needed me." Terzo apologized, his own voice breaking as he cried.

"It's not your fault." You muttered, sniffling.

"Ti amo, (Y/N). Mi scuso per tutto." Terzo whispered, kissing the top of your head.

"Anch'io ti amo, Papa." You muttered, smiling a little as you pulled away a bit.

You wiped the tears from your face and chuckled a little at the small stain of tears on Terzo's shoulder, Terzo did the same.

"There is something I should probably tell you before anything else. Um, I'm gonna become Cardinal shortly after I turn eighteen." You explained, fidgeting with your hands.

Terzo's eyes widened before he smiled big. "You really have grown up, taking on a Cardinal's responsibilities at an early age isn't easy." Terzo chuckled, he was definitely proud of you.

"I know, but Copia has been helping me with it when he can." You informed, shrugging a bit.

"Copia... How's he been handling the whole 'Papa Emeritus IV' thing?" Terzo asked, it wasn't bitter or mean, it sounded as if he actually cared about him.

"Good. Better than most thought." You admitted, sighing.

Terzo paused a bit, a small smile growing in the silence. "I'm so proud of you, mio caro." Terzo admitted, giving you another hug.

"Thank you, Papa." You muttered in return, resting your head on his shoulder.

[leezlelatch]

What I Was Made For

Terzo x F! Reader - Comfort, skin to skin, love confessions. Sometimes you just need your Papa.

Terzo’s chasuble falls off his body in a rush of satin, pooling at his feet. His gloves come off in equal measure, tossed to the floor carelessly. He removes each layer of clothing with hurried hands, stopping only when he’s standing before you in nothing but his underwear. He slides into the seat next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist in a firm grip as he drags you across the leather couch. You don’t say anything as his hands lift your shirt and usher you out of your leggings, joining them in a heap on the floor next to his papal vestments. 

“Terzo,” you finally break, your voice small, and he shushes you. A long finger slides beneath your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His eyes are warm, even the white one like liquid as he regards you with a concerned and adoring smile. 

“I am here, piccolina,” he whispers, bringing your hands flat against the expanse of his chest to feel his heart beat steadily against your palms. “Do you feel me? I am here. I am here with you.” He continues to murmur this as he pulls you into a more comfortable position, cradling your head lovingly into the juncture of his neck as he reclines on the couch. “Feel my skin against yours. And breathe, mio dolce amore.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. He smells like caramel. He smells like your favorite candle. He smells like a warm pie baked in the chill of fall. He smells like home. You turn your nose into his skin and nuzzle against it, and Terzo almost coos, a sweet noise leaving his lips followed by a small chuckle. A chuckle of near disbelief as he pulls you closer. 

“Ah, what you do to me, eh? Make your Papa such a mess! I thought that was my job,” he squeezes you to him for a moment. “I will have to try harder, si?” He’s smiling, a contentment to his voice that you don’t think you have ever heard before. 

“You fluster me,” you murmur into his skin.

“Hmm? What was that?” He teases. “Speak up. Your Papa has a hard time hearing over his bravado, you see.” That makes you laugh, your body shaking on top of his. Terzo laughs with you, deep and joyful, and relieved. “There you are. Come along now, dolce.”

“I said, ‘you fluster me’,” you say a little louder, turning to hide your burning cheeks in the crook of his neck. You feel the brush of his lips upon your forehead and you grow quiet, sucking in a short and shaky breath. 

“Thank Satan,” he whispers, lips fluttering against your skin. “I was worried you were falling too close to the edge, and I could not catch you. My only choice, you see, is to fall with you.”

“I don’t want you to fall, Terzo,” your voice is quiet, sad. Your fingers draw through his chest hair, expression thoughtful as you rest skin to skin against him. His fingers copy your movements through your hair, his right hand sliding down to glide a gentle thumb across your cheek. 

“But that is the beauty of our love, is it not? We are clumsy together. We fall. And then we kiss each other’s bruises. They hurt a little less each day. Turn from black to yellow. And then they’re gone. Perhaps we shall look back on them, but they won’t hurt anymore. We will just remember the kiss,” his accented voice, melodic and warm, washes over you like a blanket. 

You start to sit up, Terzo following you, his fingers grasping at your skin. He is nearly desperate for you to understand. To help you through whatever melancholy is stuck to your precious heart. There are many things Terzo would admit to failing at in his lifetime. This would not be one of them. 

“Let me kiss them, amore. Please,” he begs softly, hands at your waist, massaging the soft skin there. “With you is where I am safest. Let me be safe for you.” 

The face of the former antipope in front of you is bare of makeup, his brow furrowed, the divot between his brows deepening every day. Crow's feet stretch from the outer corner of his eyes, marking a path of laughter across his face. Silver cuts through dyed black hair. He is the most beautiful man that you have ever seen. 

“I love you,” you tell him. Honest and hopeful and raw.

Terzo hands are on you, pulling you firmly back into his lap, wrapping arms and legs around you until any outside viewer wouldn’t know where you ended and he began. He’s heaving great breaths, bordering on a sob as he holds you so tightly against his flesh. 

“I love you. I love you. Satana, grazie per questa benedizione. Grazie, grazie,” he whispers fervently, pressing kiss after kiss against your temple, your cheeks, any inch of you he can reach. It has you giggling, and then he laughs too, and you’re both smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. 

“I don’t even remember what I was sad about,” you finally say, looking into his eyes, your lips mere inches of his. Terzo smiles, softer now, sweeter. 

“Exactly,” he whispers.

[enchantcdstories]

On One Condition

Word Count: 1878 Tags: Poorly Translated Italian (Ghost), google translated italian, Take a shot every time amore or tesoro is used, Beta read by myself instead of my normal editor so if its bad that’s why, Hint to a Needy Copia, Husband!Copia, Kissing the makeup away, Fluff, light fluff, gender neutral reader, I stressed a lot over the italian and the pronouns so if something is wrong I'm sorry Summary: You get the incredible honor of watching Copia put on his makeup aka Just a test fic to see if it does well and if I’ll write more.

You hesitated before you knocked. Sure, you didn’t need to be so concerned with formalities nowadays– especially having tied the knot to the Ghost Project’s front man– but something was different that night. Rituals were a vital part of your life now. You had attended a few rituals, both when you were in your courtship to Copia– Before he was a papa, and after he had been promoted. Tonight’s ritual wasn’t any different to any other one, it was just another day at work for your husband now. The word husband alone gave you butterflies as you swirled it around in your head.

Still, you paused just outside of Copia’s door, biting your lip as you stood there. He was supposed to be getting ready, getting dressed and into his ritual makeup. You didn’t want to interrupt him before he needed to focus. You’d never live with yourself if you were that much of a distraction. You paused and took a breath, pushing those thoughts from your head. You were married to Copia now, freshly married. He vowed to be at your side, so something as simple as checking on him before a ritual wouldn’t be that much of a bother, would it? Gently, you rapped your knuckle against the door, wincing at the sound it made. It seemed so much louder in the empty hallway, the sound bouncing off the cement floor.

“Come in.” A muffled Copia said gently from the otherside of the door. He didn’t sound annoyed at the disturbance, so you pushed the door open lightly, peeking in. Copia sat in front of a mirror, the room dimly lit except for a few lights directed to his face. Copia’s makeup-less face. You checked your phone, glancing at the time and looking up to where your husband now sat.

“I would have thought you’d be ready by now…” You whispered, not wanting to break the silence. A small smile crept up on your lips as Copia looked up, looking surprised to see you in the mirror’s reflection.

“Amore, I wasn’t expecting you before the ritual.” He stood up, turning to face you. He was in his papal robes, the jewels twinkling in the dim light as he moved, his salt and pepper hair slicked back and mismatched eyes looking only at you. It all contrasted so well with the bright blue fabric that shimmered as he walked. You moved so you were further in the room now, gently shutting the door behind you with a click. Copia crossed the room in a few strides, robes flowing behind him as he took your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs along the backs of them.

“I thought I’d check up on you before you went out there,” You motioned to the vague direction of the stage with your head, grinning up at him as you took a step closer. Copia leaned forward and gently placed his lips on your cheek, the smell of his aftershave and incense wafting up your nose. His soft kisses trailed down to your jaw, and then to your neck.

It was a smell you could get lost in, something you could find instant comfort that enveloped you like a warm hug on a cold winter’s night. Copia hummed into your neck, letting go of your hands and wrapping himself around you. He seemed tense, almost nervous. Papa Emeritus IV never got nervous. Softly, you pulled back, looking Copia in the eyes with a look of worry.

“Are you alright, Cardi?” Your tone came out more worrisome than you had intended, another hum escaping Copia’s throat as he looked back to you and into your eyes.

“I’m fine, Tesoro mia, just before a ritual…I get a bit…uh…” He trailed off, as if looking for the right word to say. You reached up to brush some hair behind Copia’s ear, smiling gently.

“Nervous?” You finished for him. Copia nodded, shrugging a bit. A bubble of giggles rose up out of your mouth as you smoothed back his hair. “The great Papa Emeritus the Fourth gets nervous before addressing his fans?” Your voice was soft, not mocking or making fun of him in any way. More than prepared to give him a big speech about how he was more than just an amazing man, but a talented Papa as well, you gently led Copia back over to his chair next to the mirror, hands clutched in his. He sat, as if getting the hint that he needed to get ready.

“Si, I guess,” He looked at himself in the mirror before staring up at you. “Will you stay with me, amore? While I get ready?” Copia looked as if he was pleading with you, his hands still clutching yours as you sat across him. If you weren’t married to the man, you would have gasped at the honour. Watching a Papa put his makeup on wasn’t a ‘thing’ one did. It was usually a private, intimate moment before a ritual. Of course, there were exceptions to you now. Pulling a wide smile across your face, you nodded.

“I would be honoured, Papa.” You grinned, shooting him a wink as he blushed slightly. He turned to his reflection and began the process, mumbling to himself.

“The way you speak to me like that and the harder it’ll be to get ready, amore.”

You grinned, moving so you were snuggled a bit comfier onto the couch. Slowly, the man you married melted away to Papa Emeritus the Fourth, black and white paint erasing his freckles and hiding the face that you had woken up to just that morning. Despite the ritual starting soon, Copia took his time as he gently worked. Paint slid over his jaw line, his cheekbones, along his nose. A nose that you missed, you thought with a hum. It was still a face you loved, you thought, but you missed his old one just a little bit.

“Something on your mind?” Copia asked, still painting away at his face. He glanced over to you out of the corner of his eye when you didn’t reply right away, making sure you were okay. You snickered a bit, a look of concern echoing over his features.

“Nothing, I just…I miss your nose.” You hummed. Copia stopped the brush he had in his hand and set it down, looking at you with his lips slightly parted.

“My nose? Tesoro mia, I’m not sure I understand.”

“And your sideburns. I was heartbroken when you shaved them off,” You grinned teasingly. “And the moustache.” You were now leaning as you watched him, your chin leaning on your arms as you draped over the side of the couch. Copia looked at you, a hint of a joking glare out of the corner of his eyes.

“You know, you do not help my nerves, topolino. All this teasing, do I not look better now?” He was nearly finished with his Papa makeup now, his face more menacing looking with the makeup around his eyes more slanted. He looked angry like this, though you knew through his soft eyes that he was far from it.

“I married you, didn’t I?” You teased, before leaning back. “I like you just the way you are now, makeup, nose and all.”

Copia hummed, pushing himself up from the desk now that he was finished. He straightened his robes out and smoothed them down, turning to you with a little flourish. With his makeup on and his costume on, he truly was a sight to behold. Copia was gone for the night, now Papa stood before you. He was still the same man, underneath it all. Still the same man who tucked his rats in at night and wore his socks to bed. Underneath the black and white was the man who would kiss you on the forehead in the morning, and would chastise himself if he forgot.

“How do I look, amore?” He posed, arms and hands outstretched. His eyes were wide, searching for your approval.

“Very..menacing. You look perfect.” You smiled, getting off of the couch and striding over to Copia, watching as he seemed relieved and smiled. It wasn’t a lie, you thought, far from it. Copia had just been a Cardinal when you started seeing him, and watched him grow into the lead singer position of Ghost, and now he was standing in front of you– as a Papa. You couldn’t help but smile proudly at him. The makeup was menacing and intimidating, but it was a sign of how far he had come. Copia took your hands in his, looking at you with a twinkle in his eye, that irresistible look on his face that always made you melt.

“Grazie, tesoro,” He hummed, taking his own turn to brush some of your hair behind your ear. You could fade away into his touch and never come out, feeling the warmth of his hands from inside his gloves. His voice was husky and deeper than normal, more intimate and close.

You smiled, pulling yourself closer to him by the lapels of his blue papal robes. “Would I get your ritual paint on me if I gave you a kiss?” You asked, eyes darting to his lips. Copia raised an eyebrow for a moment, staying silent, as if he was considering his words before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

“I could always touch it up after, on one condition, si?”

You bit your lip, keeping a giggle down. “Okay then, what is your condition, papa?” You practically bounced from foot to foot in Copia’s arms.

“You agree to stay with me for all my pre-ritual tasks? You give me a certain confidence, after all, amore. I don’t think I could get ready without you.”

A wide smile beamed across your face as you leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss to Copia’s lips. The black face paint and lipstick made him just the slightest bit slippery, as it hadn’t had time to dry. Copia solved the issue by gripping you closer, deepening the kiss with an aggressive parting of your lips. You were sure your own face would be a mess, but you didn’t care. Pulling back, Copia let out a bit of a whimper, his mouth missing the taste of yours already.

“I think I can arrange that, as long as I get a condition as well.”

Copia cocked a smile and nodded. “I didn’t know that was how this deal worked, tesoro mia, but I will do whatever it is you ask of me. I’d give you the full moon if you asked.”

Suddenly the options were endless that you could ask of him, not that you would go as far to ask for the moon. You thought about it for a moment, mind buzzing with the idea of a back rub or something far more bedroom related– before you settled on one.

“Can the sideburns come back? Just for a day or two?” You bit your lip, the taste of lipstick on your tongue. Copia nodded and took a step back, bowing slightly before you. The light bounced off his robes, sparkling like a thousand stars.

“Your wish is my command, amore.”

[calamity-queen]

Cor Meum Tuum Est

Oh my gods my first fic for the Ghost fandom!!! I had such a good time writing this, and I hope I can write more for Ghost in the future!

Title: Cor Meum Tuum Est

Rating: Explicit

Category: M/F

Fandom: Ghost (Sweden Band)

Relationships: Papa Emeritus II/Reader; Papa Emeritus III/Reader; Papa Emeritus II & Papa Emeritus III

Characters: Sister(s) of Sin, Reader, Papa Emeritus II, Papa Emeritus III, Sister Imperator

Additional Tags: Workplace Relationship, Boss/Employee Relationship, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Secondo is secretly a hopeless romantic, Flirtation, Terzo is a hoe, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Smut, Possessive Sex, Office Sex, Desk Sex, Oral Sex, Penis in Vagina Sex, Cowgirl Position, Dom/Sub, Size Difference, Size Kink, Age Difference, Spanking, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Reader Insert, Latin, Google translated Latin because I forgot everything I learned in High School, Secondo speaks Latin, Poorly Translated Italian (Ghost), My first work in this fandom, not beta read

[discountdemonwarehouse]

Kinktober 2024 - Prompt 9 - Voice Kink

Prompt 9 - Voice Kink Characters - Terzo and Vinnie from Messing with the Missionary Man Contains: Dirty talk, poorly translated Italian for Ghost

Vinnie gets an Italian lesson over the phone from Terzo while they're separated due to work and school.

AO3 Link

        Italian for Dummies sat open on the desk before her, a notebook and pen beside that, and her phone was propped up against a different textbook for her Italian lesson with Terzo. Tonight’s topic was ordering at a cafe or restaurant, and a bunch of vocabulary words to go with it. Vinnie had offered to just find a tutor, but Terzo had insisted he was more than happy to assist her, and she had agreed, though fully expected to be looking into a tutor with actual lessons not too far into her studies. Terzo had surprised her, mostly because he’d set her up with lessons from a Ministry-offered course, and though he’d laughed at the Italian for Dummies book she’d ordered, he had gotten a copy for himself to look over and use with her. “And what does ‘secondo’ refer to in the context of ordering food?” “Second course. Usually meat or fish.” “Coretto.” (Correct.) He was quiet for a moment, paper rustling over the phone. “Ah. And ‘coperto’?” Vinnie thought for a moment. “Corpeto… Uh… Is that the fee for using a table, and not needing to tip?” “The cover charge for seated dining service, sì.”

        Vinnie bit back a yawn and shifted in her seat. These days weren’t long for her university classes, but sometimes she had to wait for Terzo’s duties to be done before they started. She tried to be present, knowing he was an hour ahead of her timewise and thus likely more tired. “We’re almost done, uccellina,” he said with evident amusement. “You heard that, huh?” She couldn’t help the bashful smile. “I did. What about… Dove posso pagare?” “Uhh… Is that asking how much something is? Wait, no, that’s quanto something. Um. I’m drawing a blank.” “It means ‘where do I pay?’ Quanto costa is ‘how much does it cost.’” “Right! Damn.” “Now what do you say if the handsome barista or server says, ‘voglio portarti a casa e rapirti, bella signora’?” (I want to take you home and ravish you, beautiful lady.) Her brow furrowed – she had no idea what that meant. “I’d say ‘no grazie’ (no thanks) because I don’t know what that means.” Terzo laughed, before his voice took on a sultry tone. “Brava ragazza. Good girl. We don’t pick up other people unless we’re together.”

        A small thrill ran through Vinnie at being called a good girl, and she tried to shake it off. Normally it took more than that for her, but she missed him despite seeing him regularly. “Like I’m going to pick up random wait staff,” she tried to make her eyeroll as audible as possible. “You may decide one day I am too old and you want someone younger,” he teased. “And trade in my Satanic sugar daddy with supernatural boner powers? Not likely.” “A sugar daddy with supernatural boner powers?!” he repeated. “Is that what I am to you?” “No, I said you were Satanic too, remember?” “Oh, yeah, of course – silly me.” He chuckled. “See? You’re special.” His voice was low when he spoke next. “And what if I said… ‘Ti scoperò finché le nostre lenzuola non saranno inzuppate del nostro peccato’?” “Terzo, you know I don’t know what that means.” “It means ‘I’ll fuck you until our sheets are soaked with our sin.’”

        Her thighs subconsciously clenched together, and she shifted a little. “Voglio sentirti esplodere quando vieni.” (I want to feel you explode when you cum.) “Voglio what…?” “Non posso smettere di pensare di essere dentro di te.” (I can't stop thinking about being inside you.) Vinnie had no idea what he was saying to her, but she was fairly certain it was having the desired impact. “Terzo…” “Ti farò vedere il volto di Dio, poi ti trascinerò con piacere negli abissi dell'Inferno, come la caduta di Lucifero.” “What about Lucifer?” she muttered, trying to stifle the feelings rising from his voice. When he replied, his voice was velvety, full of assurance he knew exactly the impact he was having on her. “I said I will show you the face of God, then I will gladly drag you into the depths of Hell, like the fall of Lucifer.” Vinnie cleared her throat awkwardly. “That’s… That’s a pretty big task.” “Do you doubt me, amore?” he questioned lustily. “Have I not proven myself to you before?”

        Vinnie blinked, trying to think of how to respond, drawing another chuckle from Terzo. Trying to recover she muttered, “I don’t think those are Italian phrases I need to know…” “Not for you to tell others, but if I teach you these things it’ll help me in seducing you.” She could hear the smirk in his voice, and she glared at the phone. “I already know how you respond when I speak Italian, uccellina. You like it.” Clearing her throat again, she refused to answer. He already knew the truth, but she refused to give him that satisfaction. “Go upstairs, Vin. There’s a present on the bed for you.” His chair creaked, echoing over the phone, as he shifted positions. “Did you have Omega sneak in again?” “He doesn’t sneak. Now go upstairs.” “You know one day he might walk in on something. I could be lounging naked.” “He’s seen it before,” the shrug was audible in Terzo’s tone, followed by an amused, “He doesn’t mind.” Vinnie rolled her eyes. “Alright, I’m going upstairs.”

        She entered the upper suite they’d created in the flat, flipping on the lights and dimming them to a low setting. A white box sat in the center of the purple velvet bedspread, a gold bow sparkling in the low light. “It’s not a glitter bomb, right?” “Of course not. That’s more your modus operandi. Open it.” Vinnie opened the box, eyes widening as she saw the sex toy lying inside. “Is this your replacement?” Terzo snorted. “Hardly – you know I could be there in seconds. It’s just something new for us to try.” “Not the weirdest thing either of us have done, either.” She mumbled, climbing onto the large bed. “Now then. It’s fully charged and ready to go. Lube’s in the box if you need it.” “Am I just putting on a show then?” She teased. “Not at all.” The toy buzzed to life and Vinnie dropped it in surprise. “It’s app controlled. Now why don’t you strip off, and lay back so I can keep telling you all kinds of naughty, nasty things?”

[angellayercake]

🥝🍇🍒

For the author asks! Good morning/Good Afternoon!

Good morning/afternoon to you too 😊

🥝What’s your favourite trope/AO3 tag to write?

poorly translated italian (ghost) haha I love that that is even a tag! As for tropes, I think probably person falls for sad man and then they live happily ever after.

🍒What’s your favourite character dynamic to write? (Can be romantic or platonic, specific or general!)

Romance for sure. I like to think that I capture romance in all my writing especially in the Terzo fics. Even in the smut I hope there is always the underlining romantic element that these characters absolutely adore each other even if they are just doing the do.

🍇Is there a particular scene/episode/book/etc that you want to just write a million fics about, over and over? Which one?

Retired Terzo!! Always. Imaging him with his head still attached living on after how his time leading ghost ended. It was the idea that started me writing for ghost in the first place and both my longest fics revolve around this as well.

Thank you so much for asking!!

fruity fic asks