#ravensbar

[her-satanic-wiles]

Guess Who?

Papa Emeriti I, II, III & Cardinal Copia x Plus Size!Reader

Game night takes a turn when you end up blindfolded and tied on the table, at the mercy of all of your beloved Papas. The name of the game: figure out who’s touching you. You win: you cum. They win: they use your body however they see fit.

For @da-rulah, because I sent her a scenario that hurt her wittle feewings, and so now I’m facing the consequences of my actions. I hope you enjoy, Bee. ✌🏻😘

Masterlist

Words: 9.2k.

Reading Time: 37 min.

Warnings: aftercare, alluded/implied sex work, anal play, biting, bondage (using a rope), breath play, breeding, bukkake, choking, cream pie, cum eating, cunnilingus, degradation, fellatio, fingering, finger sucking, free use, gang bang, groping, MMFMM, objectification, plus size!reader, PIV sex, praise, premature ejaculation, pussy slapping, rope play, rough sex, running a train, sensory depravation (blindfold), skull fucking, spit-roasting, squirting, tag teaming, talking about you as if you weren’t there, tickle kink (if you squint), unprotected sex, (wrap it before you tap it folks), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex,

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @xshadyladyx @x1nd1g0x @likeloversentwined @high-above-the-city @copiaspet622 @sister-of-sin-claudia @foxybouquet @inkstainedrat @ad-astra-per-aspera1976 @ravensbars @ultrahalloweengirl @susulbr @frog-scream @ghulehunknown @namelessghoulindisguise @onlyhereforghost @mercbeans

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Game night was usually a night reserved for only the brothers Emeritus, who usually enjoyed card games with only the three players. Every week without fail, the three men would gather in the wine cellar of the Ministry and play cutthroat games of Uno while drinking bottles of the Ministry’s finest by candlelight. It wasn’t often they’d invite a fourth in, rarely finding a person close enough to all three of them that they’d be able to relax and have fun with. But it wasn’t unheard of. Which is why the decision was unanimous when your name was thrown into the middle.

You were the favourite of all the Papas and the whole Ministry knew it. You were their closest friend and companion, the one who had the most in common with them and compassion for them. The one who made them feel the best both in and out of the bedroom. Yes, okay, the relationship you had with them all was… unique. It wasn’t often in any part of the world that brothers would share a woman and be happy doing so. But if it worked for all of you, you’d hardly say no. There was something so deliciously degrading about being passed around the Ministry’s highest ranking men like a commodity to be shared - as though you were nothing more than an object. It was so delicious because it wasn’t true. Of all the people you’d been with during your time at the Ministry, no one had treated you more kindly, more respectfully, and prioritised your pleasure quite like the Emeritus brothers. And so, almost every evening, you’d find yourself ‘rented’ for the night, and would end up tangled in the sheets with one of the Papas. And every time you needed to perform a ritual, it was always to one of them you’d call.

They’d tried getting you in on game night a few times before, but it just so happened that you were usually busy and had made plans before they’d been able to ask. How popular could one person be?

It turned out you didn’t have so many friends that they all kept you busy, rather you had one friend who took up most of your time away from the three Papas: Cardinal Copia. The Cardinal had inadvertently kept you all to himself mostly because you were his closest friend. Copia was the kind of man to put all his effort into one relationship rather than several, which meant you were the only one of his friends he wanted to spend time with. As that was the case, he had taken up so much of your free time, he made it impossible for the Papas to pin you down and drag you to game night. So, they dragged the bumbling Cardinal to game night, too.

The five of you were hunched round an aged table, the thing losing its integrity from the little upkeep that was done to it over the years. The layers of stain and paint gave it a more plastic feel, and one of the legs was propped up with the King James’ Bible, the book itself dirty from years of shoes resting on it. Clockwise, Primo headed the table, followed by Copia, You, Terzo and ending with Secondo. You only had two cards left, and felt smug at that. The closest person to you was Secondo, who had 3 cards. Everyone else was five cards or, in Copia’s case, much more. The typical banter and shit-talk ensued, you teasing Terzo about how you were going to win, Primo constantly pulling the cheapest moves like adding +2 cards or reversing so that Copia would have to draw more or wouldn’t get to play. Copia promising violent vengeance every time Primo screwed him over, which would earn titters of amusement from Secondo and Terzo.

Finally, Terzo had played his card allowing you to drop your penultimate one on top of his, your red 4 landing on his blue 4, with a cheery “Uno!” falling from your lips, despite Primo and Copia’s conversation that was murmuring in the background.

Secondo sighed and rolled his eyes. “Cardinale!” He called, breaking up the conversation. “It is your turn.”

“___ hasn’t had her turn yet.” Copia protested.

“She just did.”

Primo smirked, a devilish smile on his lips. “Our dear ___ didn’t claim ‘Uno!’. You have to take five cards.”

“I did!” You exclaimed, offended at Papa Primo’s accusations. You told him as such.

“I didn’t hear you.” Copia claimed.

“To be fair, Cardinale, you were talking.” Secondo insisted, fighting your corner.

Terzo sighed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “There is nothing for it, amore.” He exclaimed. “Two insist you did not say it, two insist you did. Therefore, you must be punished some way, no? Either, take five cards like my fratello told you to do, or…”

“…Or?” You asked impatiently, bracing yourself for Terzo’s ultimatum. You knew it would be a suggestive offer, but you didn’t know exactly what he’d choose.

“Or, you take off that pretty little habit of yours and play the rest of the game in your underwear.”

Secondo jumped in. “___, you don’t have to do either.”

Primo, who secretly hoped you’d choose Terzo’s second option, also chimed in. “Well, you do have to take five cards if you don’t get naked for us.”

“Papa?” Copia asked, eyebrows raised. He clearly wasn’t expecting Primo to go along with it.

“What? You cannot expect an old man to be completely adverse to a beautiful woman stripping herself bare for my enjoyment - provided she consents, of course.”

Terzo, “If anyone objects, speak now or forever hold thy peace.”

Everyone immediately shot subtle glances at Copia, expecting the only man in the room who you’d not fucked yet to object. But, with blushing cheeks, he sat back and much to everyone’s surprise, remained quiet.

You slammed your card on the table and stood from your seat, hands immediately flying to and removing your veil. “This is bullshit.” You said, undoing the buttons at the front of your habit before pulling the whole thing over your head. You were met with sounds of appreciation, whistles, hoots and hollers - most of which came from Terzo who was more than happy to watch you reveal your gorgeous, plump body in order to win the game. You sat back down, breasts and stomach jiggling with the force, thighs splaying out against the chair as you sat. You watched as Secondo was mesmerised by your curves. He said nothing, wanting to keep things with you as respectful as possible, but he loved your body: loved watching it bounce each time he fucked into you, loved laving and sucking on your nipples, biting them just to earn that sound from your throat. It didn’t matter that he was a middle aged man with the total ability to control himself, when it came to you, he was a constant horny mess.

The game continued, Copia had his turn, Primo, Secondo, Terzo, then back to you. Finally, and with much grumbling from the rest of them, you played the final card and won the match. “And I did it all whilst naked.” You bragged. “This is why you never invite me to this nights - you know I’ll kick your ass.”

“We don’t always play Uno, you know.” Primo stated, resting his elbows on the table.

“Doesn’t matter, any game you throw my way I’ll win.” You responded petulantly.

“Oh you think?” Terzo asked, eyebrows raising.

“I know.”

“Prove it.” Secondo sounded from the other side of the table.

“Name the game, Papa.”

“What did you have in mind, fratello?” Questioned Terzo again.

Secondo sat back, his body language oozing confidence with a menacing glint in his eyes. “A game even our friend over there can play if he’s willing.” He gestured to Copia, who swallowed nervously. “We got some rope down here, some cloth. We strip you naked, blindfold you, and touch you however we want. You have to guess who it is. You guess correctly, we make you cum then move to the back of the line. Guess incorrectly, and we get to do what we want to you. You have to guess the majority correctly in order to win, if you don’t, well, we’ll decide what happens to you. Think you could win then?”

“Easy.” You challenged.

“Oh, you think so?”

You stood up. “Copia, you in?”

“I- I…” He stammered, torn between wanting to play but not wanting to ruin your friendship.

“Whatever you choose, I’m happy.”

“I… I’ll play.”

Primo patted him on the shoulder. “Good man.”

“Well then,” you reached round your back and unhooked your bra, throwing the fabric to the stone cold floor and feeling your nipples harden at both your arousal and the change in temperature, “let’s play.” Your panties were the next to go, followed by your shoes and socks, leaving you stood on the wine cellar’s floor naked as the day you were born. With each move you made, your body jiggled slightly, earning more groans of appreciation from the men who remained. Terzo even coming up behind you and pressing himself against you, hands roaming all over your body and grabbing handfuls of you where he could.

“Can’t wait for you to guess incorrectly so I can fuck you dumb, tesoro.” He whispered into your ear before biting it.

“Leave you with blue balls.” You teased.

“We’ll see.” He stepped away from you and gave your ass a slap, watching it wobble with the force. He bit his bottom lip and moaned like he’d just eaten something delicious. “We will see.”

Secondo had gone and returned from getting the rope and cloth he saw, and began to bind you up in it, using the rope to tie your hands behind your back. “Your safe word is ‘bottle’, amore.” He told you placing a chaste but gentle kiss on your shoulder blade. “Does this feel okay?” He asked pulling on the rope.

“It feels fine, Papa.” You replied, feeling heat gather in your core and your breath already labouring.

“You ready for the blindfold?”

“Yes.”

And with that, your vision was blinded, your sense of sight plunged into darkness as Secondo tied the cloth gently behind your head, checking to make sure you were comfortable, before guiding you into position. You were lay against the small table, your head barely supported, with most of it hanging over the edge. You were lay on your back with your legs spread, your hands taking the weight of your back as it arched over the top of them. Your breasts had, for lack of a better term, pancaked as gravity was inistent on pulling them down. But even though Terxo made fun of that term, he loved the way you looked on your back for him. Your cunt was entirely on display with just how wide your spread legs had opened your labia, your wetness already visible to the men who stared at your body hungrily, like animals about to feed for the first time in weeks.

You felt Secondo kiss your thigh once before disappearing to join his brothers. Then, you heard all four of the men, in unison, say, “Carta, forbice, sasso!” Followed by skin slapping on skin.

Those fucking idiots were playing rock, paper, scissors to see who was going to go first. You heard a few grumbles, but couldn’t make out who made what noise.

You heard footsteps.

The sound of a glove sliding against skin. Twice.

Those gloves falling to the floor.

Then you felt it. A thumb running up and down your slit, gathering your wetness before finally rubbing over your clit - tight, little circles designed to drive you mad. Your hips bucked at the touch, a gasp escaping your lips at the surprise touch. His four fingers rested on your mound as an anchor, allowing more precise movements, and for him to put more pressure on your clit. You struggled against the rope, your hands moving out of habit wanting to reach your nipples, to pinch and pull at the buds like you usually did when someone played with your bundle of nerves. But the rope bit at your skin, burning slightly as you fought against it and making you scream out in frustration. “Fuck!” You breathed, body writhing beneath the calloused thumb. You wanted to try an work out who was doing it to you so you could win the game, but your mind went blank the second his thumb touched you.

The teasing was very much a Terzo trait, but the use of his thumb wasn’t. Terzo usually teased using his mouth or his cock. He didn’t have the drive to use one of his hands. Secondo used his hands a lot, loved to plunge them deep inside you and finger you open for him, having you screaming and begging for him to touch your clit. Which is how you knew this wasn’t Secondo. It couldn’t be Primo - he didn’t have the heart to tease. He’d always give you what you asked for in a heartbeat. Which meant it must have either been Terzo or Copia. As you’d never had sex with Copia, you couldn’t be sure what his methods were - and this touch did feel foreign. “Is it… is it Copia?”

You heard laughter from the other side of the room, followed by a “Dammit!” from Copia. “It’s me.” Copia pulled up one of the chairs and situated himself between your legs, getting himself ready for the task of making you cum. You felt his hot breath against your centre, erratic little puffs that hit your wet skin as he breathed through his nervousness. He took his time with you, almost as if he was psyching himself up. Copia had fucked before, and he was good at it. But he’d never fucked you. You could imagine that he was nervous because he wanted you to think he was good. And, if you had use of your hands, you’d tangle them in his brown hair and stroke his head gently, reassuringly. But instead, all you had were your little grunts of desperation to softly urge him on.

His moustache was the next thing you felt, tickling against your folds as his mouth made contact with you. The course hairs ran against your sensitivity as his tongue darted out to lap up the juices that were spilling from you. You could feel your hole clenching around nothing, screaming for something to fill it while Copia toyed with your clit, but he made no move to fill you, instead putting more pressure on you with his tongue as he continued to move up and down your slit, until finally he made permanent contact with your clit.

He tightened his tongue to make the tip more pointed to get a precise lick to your clit, swirling around it with his muscle and causing you to cry out in response, fighting against your restraints. His hot breath kept coming out from his nose, heightening your senses and making you hyper aware of just how much of a mess you were as tit hit the wetness seeping from you and making you feel cold. Your nipples were so hard and needing someone to play with them while Copia continued to drink you down like he was dehydrated.

He alternated between using his tongue only and pressing filthy kisses to your folds, practically making out with your cunt to get you off quicker. You could hear the sound of his lips smacking against your body, in between the broad strokes of his tongue he was providing for you. Tiny grunts would escape his lips as he ate you alive, treating you like the most delicious meal he’d ever eaten. His fingertips dug into the flesh of your thighs, keeping you held down as much as he could so he could devour you easily. You could feel your high coming faster than you’d anticipated, or even wanted, but he was working you towards that end so fucking well, you were losing your breath and your mind.

“Copia, fuck!” You screeched, breathlessly. Your nails were scratching against the wood of the table, feeling the gross stickiness from the drinks’ condensation underneath your body, but feeling more filthy and used than disgusted. Your brain reminded you that you weren’t alone, that there were three other men watching this go on with just as much pleasure as you. You wondered if they were touching themselves. If they were watching you writhe with pleasure and stroking their cocks at the sight.

Copia’s lips wrapped entirely around your clit, moustache now soaked from your cunt, and he sucked. Hard. That tongue he used so precisely before was now slapping against your clit again, this time much faster than before. Because of this, the surprise change in pace and pressure, your orgasm hit you so violently, every single one of your nerve endings exploded beneath his touch, and set off a chain reaction around the rest of your body. Your muscles tensed, your breath was snatched from your lungs, your eyes (beneath the blindfold) closed even tighter, and your mouth had hung open in a perfect ‘o’, allowing a strangled moan to leave from your tightened throat that had closed in the strain of your orgasm. All the while, Copia refused to let up, keeping the pressure going even when you were trying to kick him away. He didn’t stop until he was sure your orgasm had subsided. He pressed one final kiss to your clit before he stood up and walked away, leaving you alone and spent on the table, recovering from one of the best orgasms of your life.

“Did that feel good, tesoro?” You head Terzo ask from the other side of the room. No one had approached you yet, meaning you couldn’t gauge whether Terzo was next or not.

Your brain was still scrambled, and you were barely able to manage a “uh-huh,” to respond to him, which earned a chuckle from all four of the men in the corner.

When the laughter died down, you heard more footsteps approaching you, stopping this time at the right side of you. You felt the silk of a robe glide over your bear skin, but as all of the Papa’s robes were made from the same material, you could only rule out Copia at that point.

You jumped in surprise at the feeling of four fingers immediately touching your stomach, rubbing two large, soft circles into the skin just to tease you. Those four fingers broke off as his hands went in two separate directions. The first moved upwards, running up over the mound of your breast, stopping to play with your right nipple - pinching and pulling at the bud just as you liked, and had needed for the past however long they’d been playing with you. The second hand moved downwards, mimicking the actions of the first by pinching and pulling, except this time it was on your clit. He wasn’t as rough with your clit as he was your nipple, given that your were still probably sensitive from your orgasm, but the torture was too fun even if you were suffering a little.

Those fingers that were playing with your cunt slipped inside your hole, immediately curving upwards and hitting that sweet spot that had you singing so beautifully for them. You only had the opportunity to cry out once before you felt the hand on your breast reach up to your neck, and squeeze the sides gently. His fingers were rough, working to hit your g-spot over and over again and make you squirm at his touch, and you felt your body shake with the force of it. The way he was using his hands against you, plus the roughness of them and the pit stop at your breasts made you confident enough to make your second guess.

“S-Secondo?”

Your stomach and heart sank when you heard dark laughter coming from the guys in the corner of the room. Secondo’s gruff voice sounded from far away, loudly speaking over the sound of your wetness squelching as the fingers inside you kept up their pace. “Wrong, amore.” He said, all too happily for you to be comfortable.

You smelled wine and sandalwood when the man leaned down so his mouth was level with your ear. “You’re mine now, tesoro.” Terzo claimed, his voice dark and heavily accented. His words were stretched telling you he was smiling as he spoke, unable to form them correctly. He revelled in the deception, removing his hands from your body and bringing his fingers up to your lips. “Open up for me.” He commanded, and once you obeyed, he put his middle and ring fingers covered in your cunt juices into your mouth. “Clean yourself up. Suck on them like you do my cock.”

You took those fingers into your mouth beautifully, putting on a show for him in hopes that he’d go easy on your body when he took what he wanted from you. A gutteral groan sounded from his mouth as he watched your lips stretch around his thick fingers, tongue grazing along the underside as you cleaned yourself from his digits. You bobbed your head fluidly, like you usually did when you took him in your throat, moaning around him and rubbing your thighs together. He always liked to know he had an affect on you - maybe appeasing his ego would help you out.

He removed his hand from your mouth and you heard him walk to your feet. His hands pried themselves in between your thighs to show your cunt to him like a piece of meat being inspected by a customer. You waited with baited breath as he decided what to do with you, no doubt in your mind that he was staring at your wetness with that glint in his eyes: the one that shows his excitement but could be mistaken for sadism if you didn’t know him. Or maybe they were the same thing. You felt his fingertips trace up and down the inside of your left thigh, before that hand disappeared. With the other on your right ankle keeping your legs spread and the other one missing, you could feel anticipation pool in your stomach.

SLAP.

His hand had come down hard on your cunt, fingers colliding brutally with your sensitive clit and stinging at the connection. You screamed out, body jerking with the attempt to slither away and close your thighs, but Terzo had already got himself between your legs, and there was nothing you could do but take it.

SLAP.

“Terzo!” You screamed, feeling your sensitivity dial up several notches with the second slap.

“Do you need to use your safe word, tesoro?” He asked.

“No.”

“Brava.”

SLAP.

“Want you nice and red for me when I fuck you dumb, tesoro. I told you that earlier.” This time, he rubbed his thick fingers over your clit, soothing the wound he was inflicting. “You’re already dripping enough. I could just slide in now, couldn’t I?”

“Yes, Papa!”

You felt his arms wrap around your thick thighs and pull you towards the edge of the table. The rustle of his fabrics reached your ears telling you he was getting his cock out ready for you. Then you felt it: his heavy girth rubbing up and down your folds in typical Terzo fashion, the head rubbing against your cunt, encased comfortably by your lips. Every now and again, the tip would catch against your opening, and you held you breath for the push in that wouldn’t come until you least expected it. But when he did finally push inside you, your mouth fell open at the stretch. You were so sad you couldn’t watch his face, the look of it as he bottomed out on you always had you tightening around him. You were desperate to see his face crumpled up, showing you he loved being inside you.

“So fucking tight, tesoro.” He commented as soon as he was fully inside. You felt the crown nestle against your cervix, teasing you, reminding you that he was about to ruin you in all the best ways. He left you waiting for his true torture to begin, as you vaguely remembered that the only one who’d be cumming now was him.

He pulled out so his tip was almost entirely out of you, and then slammed back into you. The room echoed with the sound of the table scraping across the floor with the force of it. That sound, combined with your screams and whines, created the perfect symphony to Terzo’s onslaught.

Terzo always knew how to play you like a fiddle, pushing all of your buttons to have you walking beside the Gods. Today was no exception. Your legs had been extended to rest on his chest and over his shoulder, his arms wrapped around your thick thighs for leverage as he thrust all the way into you.

Terzo fucked you like he paid for you, his cock pistoning in and out of your dripping cunt as quickly as he could move, taking only his pleasure from your body. You were lucky with all of your lovers, they were all giving and had just as much fun making you cum as they had doing the same for themselves. But sometimes, when you’d behaved in such a way to earn a punishment, you’d see all three of them be incredibly selfish and just take. Letting them use you like that, given the stark juxtaposition of their regular behaviour, always had you dripping for them, enjoying being nothing more than a living toy - a warm hole to sink into.

You clenched around Terzo’s cock as he fucked you - used you - for his own enjoyment. And, over the sounds you and your body were making, you heard Terzo’s rough voice. “Come here!” He said to someone else in the room. You heard footsteps that stopped beside Terzo. “Wrap your hand around her throat.”

The person obliged, their footsteps ending up by your head and then dropping their hand to your exposed neck. Terzo already had your body bouncing against him, ricocheting against his thrusts every time. The hand, because of this, had a little trouble grabbing onto your body, but eventually he managed it. His fingers and thumb rested against your esophagus and squeezed inwards, not restricting your airflow completely, but just enough to have you feeling the effects. Your mind had almost entirely melted, thinking of nothing other than Terzo’s cock pounding away inside you, hearing your own desperate whimpers as the hand around your pretty little neck heightened your pleasure and sensitivity.

“Who is it, tesoro?” Terzo asked, breathlessly. “Whose hand is that around your pretty little neck?”

The hand loosened enough to allow you to concentrate fully, but still rested on you to remind you of its presence. You had no idea. Not a single thought floated in your head. “Nuh!” You grunted with a particularly rough thrust. You had to guess someone. “P-Primo?”

You heard laughter, then Terzo’s voice cut through your brain. He made the sound of a buzzer, the kind of noise you hear when you get a question wrong. “Fuck her throat, Copia.”

“Fuck!” You exclaimed in irritation, kicking your feet against Terzo’s shoulder, gently.

More laughter sounded.

“Is that okay, ___?” Copia asked.

“Of course.” You replied. He obviously wanted verbal consent, so you gave him just that, hearing him walk towards the crown of your head and adjust himself so his cock was completely free. You were maneuvered so that your head hung off the edge of the table, allowing a completely flat throat, and letting the Cardinal slide into your open mouth easily.

He hissed at the feeling of your tight, wet throat engulfing him with no trouble, thanks to the position you’d been put in. Copia tried to be kind to you, thrusting softly down your throat, and pulling out often to give you some breathing time. But you began to notice that the longer he spent inside you, the more he forgot his manners, and would spend more time fucking you between the breaths he gave you. This would make you clench tighter around Terzo’s cock, in part because your body was reacting to the loss of oxygen, but mostly because the feeling of being so thoroughly used had your mind swimming. Your body loved being degraded - reduced to nothing more than a set of holes to be used at any given time. Besides, you felt like Satanic Tinkerbell - you thrived under as much attention as you could possibly get, and felt like you’d die without it.

“Cazzo!” You heard Terzo grunt. His movements grew more and more erratic the closer he got to cumming. “Look at her throat.”

“Don’t.” Copia hissed again. “If I look, I’ll cum.”

“I can see the outline of his cock down your throat, tesoro. Every time he fucks inside you, I see it.”

You whined around Copia’s cock which spurred him to thrust forward a little more violently than he meant to. He wrapped his hand back around your throat and squeezed, crying out at how much tighter you got. “Oh merda! Oh cazzo!” Copia screeched. And, with no warning and just a strangled grunt, you felt Copia thrust into you one final time before he emptied himself into your throat, hands still wrapped around your throat, but with no pressure to them. He poured so much of himself into you, his body overreacting to his first time inside you. You heard Copia’s disappointed sigh as pulled out leaving you to swallow his load with a slight ache in your throat. You felt a string of your saliva spill onto your cheek, only to get the cloth covering your eyes damp where it settled and got soaked up. pulled out of you, “Wanted to last longer.” Copia commented.

“She tends to have that effect on people.” You heard Primo say. You remembered the first time Primo fucked you, too, and how he also didn’t last as long as he wanted… in fact, it was the same for all of them. You couldn’t help the sense of pride that washed over you reminiscing over that fact. “You gotta build up stamina to enjoy her completely.”

You tightened. Out of all of them, Primo was the kindest towards you - so to hear him talk about you as if you weren’t human did something to you that you should feel ashamed about. But instead it only made you wetter.

“Merda!” Terzo groaned. “Gonna fucking cum into this slutty cunt. You want that, tesoro?”

“I want it!” You begged, breathlessly.

“How much?”

“I w-want you to fill me up so-oh bad, Papa! Fuck. Want y-you to fill me up and…” You cut yourself off, remembering that there were others present.

Terzo spanked your thigh and dropped his voice down to a quiet, husky plea. “Fucking say it. I dare you. Finish that fucking sentence.”

“Want y-you to fill me up and fuck a baby into me. Show everyone who I belong to.”

“You fucking whore!” Terzo exclaimed appreciatively. “Sathanas!” And that was all the warning you got before Terzo also emptied himself into you, cock twitching in over sensitivity as rope after rope shot into your cunt, his fingers digging into your plump calves as he tried to keep himself grounded. His knees were buckling at the force, and you felt his whole body tremble as it fought to keep him upright.

When his orgasm subsided, Terzo pulled out of you, a grunt coupling his unceremonious actions. He gently returned your legs to the table, trying to make sure that you were safe and comfortable again, before fiddling with his clothes. You assumed he’d turned to walk away, which is when you heard Secondo’s voice.

“Nuh-uh!” He scolded, clicking his fingers. You’d seen him scold Terzo before, there was no doubt in your mind that the click was followed by Secondo pointing to the problem. “Clean up your mess before someone else gets in there.”

You imagined Terzo rolling his eyes like a petulant teenager. He pulled up a chair, sat on it, and buried his face in your folds without warning. His tongue delved as deep as it would go, licking his own cum out from your cunt. Where his tongue wouldn’t reach, his fingers did, and every drop of himself was gulped down with attitude. He didn’t care a button for your pleasure this time, purely being down there just to clean you out to be used again. When he had finished, he patted your thigh twice and left you waiting and wanting for the next person.

“Wait,” you said quickly hearing all movement in the room stop, “if I keep my hands to myself, can you untie me? It’s starting to hurt.” The rope was burning against your skin now to the point where you could hardly stand it anymore. And, given that both of your arms were tied behind your back and you were laying on them, your arms felt dead and your back had begun to ache.

“Of course.” Terzo replied without thinking. He turned on his heels and rushed back to the table, his hands on your shoulders. “Sit up for me, tesoro.” He ordered, his voice much more kindly than it had been before. He helped you to sit upright. “That’s it - brava ragazza.” You felt his deft hands working at the rope Secondo had tied, making short work of it given that it was tied well. Once your wrists were free and the rope had been discarded, you felt Terzo’s gentle touch on your wrists, no doubt a little red from the irritation. “Ah, my poor amore.” He pressed his lips to them. “Battle scars, no?”

“So dramatic.” Secondo muttered from the other side of the room.

“I have some hand cream,” Primo said walking towards you, “it’ll be good enough until you get to one of our rooms and can be taken care of properly.”

“Thank you, Papa.” You replied, a soft smile on your face.

You felt Primo and Terzo rub the hand cream into your wrists, their fingers working to moisturise the skin and help repair it as quickly as possible. Primo always kept stuff like this in his pockets - hard boiled sweets included. He was such a grandpa sometimes it made you laugh. Prepared for an apocalypse - you’d tell him that every time he pulled something out of his bag or pocket that would help.

Once they’d finished, Terzo pressed a kiss to your hand and walked away, while Primo rested his hand on the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek as he pulled you in for a sweet kiss, the kind of kiss that had you sighing and leaning into his touch. “You’re doing so good for us, fiorellina.” He praised. “Just a little longer.”

Primo left you alone and everyone watched as you lay back down for them, body splaying out against the wood. Your hands went to the edges of the table, clutching on to try and stop you from grasping onto the next man who took his place between your legs.

Terzo’s voice sounded from across the room. “You have to get this next one correct, tesoro. Or we win.”

“I will. Of course I will, are we kidding?” You responded, determination in your voice.

The room was silent while the next man moved towards you - his footsteps slow and deliberate. His warm breath fanned out over your body, before finally you felt his tongue lave over your body: it ran all over your stomach, your thighs, back up to your breasts where he licked and sucked on your nipple. You moaned at the sensation, your hips bucking upwards as his mouth brought you so much pleasure. You had to resist the urge to clutch onto his head as you usually did whenever someone ran their tongue over your nipples. But that was when you felt it: a second tongue mimicking the patterns on your nipple and replicating it on your clit, pulling another moan from your mouth.

It was obvious that this was Secondo and Primo - although Copia had two chances, you doubt he’d have a third - or even that Terzo would come back for seconds.

“Secondo and P-Primo.” You said quickly.

“Well of course,” Terzo said, matter-of-factly, “but who’s doing what, tesoro?”

You thought you could get away with it, that they’d give you a break and let you have the win - but evidently not. “S-Secondo is - fuck -” you pushed your hips into the man’s mouth who was licking your cunt fervently. “Su-ucking on my clit.” It had to be, this was his style. He wasn’t usually gentle with your body, not when he’d been deprived for as long as he had been.

“And you think Primo is on your breasts?”

“Y-yes.”

“Take off the blindfold.”

You quickly lifted it off your eyes and immediately flinched at the candlelight, despite it being low. You’d been in complete darkness the whole time, it was hardly surprising that you were struggling to see. Your eyes were blurred, and they took a while to completely adjust, but when they did, a wave of relief washed over you. You were right. Your hands immediately flew to Primo and Secondo’s heads, putting pressure on Secondo’s because he was where you needed him the most, but everyone knew that Primo’s ministrations and work on your nipples would have you tipping over the edge in no time.

Primo lifted his mouth off your nipple and attached it to your lips, fingers tweaking the opposite bud in lieu of his tongue. This kiss was just as tender as his first one, filled with such passion you felt yourself grinding on Secondo’s tongue much faster in pure desperation.

“You are doing so well, fiorellina.” Primo echoed his words from earlier, voice low, those words clearly meant for your benefit and your benefit only. “You please us so well. Take everything we give like a good girl.”

“Papa!”

“Do you feel good?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Is my brother doing a good job?”

“Yes!”

“Tell him, fiorellina. Ask him to make you cum.”

“Please!” You begged, your mind so far gone you could hardly stand it anymore. For the first time since you looked down at him, you were able to drink in the sight of the man between your thighs, roughly sucking on your clit and pistoning his fingers in and out of you now like a man on a mission. You could only see the top of his head, given the rest of it was hidden by your cunt. You could only just see the bridge of his nose above your mound, his hands wrapped around your bruised, jiggling thighs, and him looking up at you through his lashes, a scowl on his brow with his determination to tip you over the edge. There was almost a predatory look in his eyes as he sucked you into his mouth, and it made your cunt clench tightly around his fingers.

“Oh fuck, Papa!”You called out to him, your stomach flipping at the sight of him. “Your t-tongue feels so… good. I’m so fucking close. P-please make me cum, Papa-ah! Wanna cum. Wanna cum so-oh I can… I can feel your c-cock deep inside me. Fuck! Just like that. Don’t stop. Please don’t fucking st-op. Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Secondo had pushed his face further into you, his tongue roving deliciously over your clit every time he sucked on it harshly.

“Cumming!” You announced via scream, your back arching off the table and mouth hanging open in pleasure. Your voice stopped, cut like someone had just turned the sound off but continued to play the video. Your second orgasm was violent, and wet. So very wet. Your vision was the first to go, dark patches swimming over your sight and eyes glazing over and rolling back as drool poured from your open mouth. Your hands cramped where they were clutching onto the table, your desperation forcing them there right as your orgasm hit lest you draw blood from your Papas. Secondo growled into your cunt as you released your cum onto him and the table below, the sound of your squirt hitting the floor as it poured from your body, combined with Secondo sucking it down greedily had your toes curling and your orgasm continuing. It felt like it went on forever, sending electric pulses all over your body until you couldn’t stand it and damn near passed out. All the while, you had Primo in your ear whispering to you; reminding you to breathe, telling you it was okay. You barely registered the fact that his hand was resting on top of yours, fingers bent to completely cover you.

Secondo stood from his place between your thighs and moved to your head to kiss you, letting one of your hands wrap around his neck and pull him closer to you as his mouth engulfed yours. Your other hand, which was still trapped beneath Primo’s, pulled out from its position and also pulled him toward you, breaking your kiss with Secondo so you could kiss Primo just as passionately. You felt Secondo’s fingers traverse the length of your body, before dipping back into your hole. “Mmmf!”You protested, muffled by Primo’s lips. You broke the kiss to look at Secondo. “Please not your hands!”

Secondo smirked. “You want my cock, hm?”

“Yes! Fuck. Please.”

“On your stomach then, amore.”

You climbed off the table before bending over it, letting your body squish against the wood so tantalisingly, you heard appreciative groans coming from everyone in the room. Secondo came back to his original position, and fumbled around with his robes before he positioned his cock at your entrance. You could feel the weight of it against you as he ran it through your folds, gathering your slick to lube himself up. The head of his girth rubbed against your sensitive clit, still twitching from the orgasm he gave you. Each rub caused you to whimper from the sensation, mouth hanging open and brow furrowing in pleasure.

When Secondo finally sank in, the stretch was divine. Secondo was so, incredibly thick and long, he reached depths that you had never felt before. Despite already being fucked once, your cunt was still forced open as though this was the first cock you’d taken in a long, long time. Your hands clutched onto the table again, grasping the edges tightly to ground yourself as you cried out, his own hiss of pleasure echoing in your ears as he, too, felt the effects of your extraordinarily tight pussy. He gave you time to adjust to him and his size once he’d buried himself all the way to the hilt, hands on your ass cheeks, gripping tight enough for the fat to squeeze between his fingers. A string of expletives in Italian fell from his lips, punctuated by a bite to your right hip. He thrust inside tentatively at first, hitting your cervix so deliciously, your eyes rolled back into your head and a delirious smile played on your lips. Secondo kept rocking into you, hitting that spot over and over again, gradually picking up the pace until he was fucking into you at a rough pace - the perfect pace.

Primo stood in front of you, watching your face as you took Secondo’s cock. Your hands unclasped from the table and moved to Primo’s clothed cock, standing to attention underneath his robes, and began to fumble with the fabric to free him. You wanted his cock in your mouth, just as much as you needed Secondo’s. You gave Primo’s cock two strokes at first, staving off the arousal just enough to get him into your mouth without him blowing too soon. Primo was always a delight to give head to - he was always so gentle, so appreciative, hands in your hair and sweet touches, never taking too much unless you were offering it and giving you kind praise as you worked hard to get him to cum.

Your first lick ran from base to tip, causing his toes to curl in his shoes at the pressure. But once you were at his head, you swirled your tongue around it, taking the whole tip in your mouth and sucking like you would taking cake mix off the spoon. You hollowed your cheeks to make a better suction for his head, and relished in the feeling of his hands in your hair, grunts of desperation slipping from his lips. You moved your hands to his hips and silently pulled them forward, sucking more of him into your mouth until that tip was right at the back of your throat, dipping down into your throat. All the while, you looked up at him through your lashes, big, doe eyes maintaining eye contact with him while your lips sinfully stretched around his cock.

“Oh my,” Primo commented, chest heaving from his lack of breath, “look at that. You look so pretty like this, fiorellina.”

He began to gently fuck your throat, pulling out completely to give you the opportunity to breathe, and bending down to kiss you ever now and then, before eventually feeding his cock back into your mouth, and repeating the process all over again.

In the meantime, behind you, Secondo was fixated on the way your cunt swallowed him whole, greedily pulling him back in and clenching down on his shaft as Primo sent those praises to you, and they shot straight down to your hole. You could hear Secondo’s own grunts and groans as he felt this, and just how feral he was becoming the longer he was inside of you. You were feeling so good, you were creaming on his cock, and Secondo couldn’t take his eyes off the juice that had gathered at the base, pulling and snapping with each time he pulled out then slammed back in.

He pushed his hand underneath your body and began to play with your clit again, stealing a moan from your mouth, muffled by Primo’s cock that was buried all the way to the hilt down your throat again. Secondo chuckled at your response, “You like that, amore?” He asked, his tone delightfully condescending, filled with a false sympathy that had goosebumps forming on your skin. “You like taking two cocks at the same time, hm? Like being used by four men in one day?”

“You should have seen the way her eyes lit up just now, fratellino.” Primo said, stroking your hair.

“Her cunt is clenching - I know how much she likes being a whore for us. Listen to her.” True enough, underneath your muffled whines and moans, everyone could hear the sound of Secondo fucking into you, how your wetness splashed around him and made it so, embarrassingly clear just how much you loved this. Secondo laughed again. “Look over at Terzo and the Cardinal, amore.”

You did as Secondo asked, pulling Primo out of your mouth to look at them over your shoulder. Terzo was, as expected, brazen with his thoughts, his cock completely out of his trousers again and his fist wrapped around it, darkened eyes trained on your body as you bounced off Secondo’s cock, and swallowed Primo’s with enthusiasm. Copia, on the other hand, clearly just as affected as Terzo, was still dressed from his earlier encounter with your mouth, but his hand rubbing over his cassock as discreetly as he could manage. You tightened again momentarily, relishing in the fact that you had four men rock hard and desperate to bury themselves in all of your holes.

“You should have seen the Cardinal earlier, tesoro.” Terzo teased. “How eager he was to fuck your throat.”

“Fuck.” You muttered, eyes watching your friend rut into his own hand. at the sight of you getting fucked relentlessly. There was something so incredible about being the centre of everyone’s attention, and the object of all their desires. How a man who you’d never even seen in a sexual light before, and you were sure hadn’t thought of you in one, was now trying to cum for a second time at the thought of you. “M-my hands are - fuck! Papa! - My hands a-are free.” You hinted, before taking Primo back into your mouth and curling your hands into loose fists, creating two new holes for Terzo and Copia to use at their pleasure. Of course, they leaped forward, and before you knew it both of their cocks had been spat on, then slid into your fists, and began fucking your hands as they would your cunt.

You were stuffed full, almost every hole imaginable filled with the cocks of the highest members of the clergy, at the mercy of the Emeritus brothers as they had their wicked ways with you. The rigorous snaps of Secondo’s hips had you bouncing along the table, meaning Primo could stand still and you’d take his cock completely hands free, with Secondo doing all the work.

From your peripherals, you watched as Copia used your hand, his own resting on the table as though he were too shy to touch you, despite wrapping his digits around your throat and making your airways tighter for him to fuck as he pleased. Terzo, however, a man used to being deep inside you and taking his pleasure from your body, had leaned over and landed a few, stinging slaps to your ass, watching as it jiggled with both the force of his hits and the backshots Secondo was giving you. That same hand he put in his mouth - his pinkie to be precise - salivated all over it, and then began to rub it over the rim of your ass, making you jump in surprise. And then, when you’d relaxed to his touch, he inserted the tip into your twitching hole, only down to the mid knuckle, but that combined with Secondo still playing with your clit had you tipping over into your third orgasm, body tensing and cunt fluttering around his cock.

Primo had pulled out, allowing you to breathe through it, crouching down and wrapping his own hand around his cock, stroking himself furiously. “That’s it, fiorellina. Cum for us. You’re doing so well for us. Such a good girl. Ah! Sathanas! I’m close.”

When you came back to your senses, you fixated your eyes on Primo’s desperately moving hand, willing it back into your mouth, but Primo wasn’t having it.

His voice dropped to a whisper so only you could hear him. “Can I cum, fiorellina?”

Unable to speak through your exhaustion, you nodded.

“Close your eyes for me.” He ordered.

You did as you were told, and mere seconds later you heard Primo groan and then his cum landing on your flushed cheek, nose, and upper lip.

“Oh, fuck! Look at her now!” You heard Terzo say, in awe of your fucked out state, covered in cum. “Shit, me too!” He pulled out from your fist and stood where Primo once was, stroking himself until completion over your face, groaning as the first rope of cum shot out and landed on your forehead. It dripped down onto your cheek, joining the first load of cum, along with hitting your nose.

It didn’t take much longer for Secondo’s orgasm to hit him, his thrusts becoming sloppy and fast until he buried himself as deep as he could inside you, falling onto your plush body as rope after rope spilled in your tight, wet heat. His hands were gripping onto your flesh so hard, you were sure he was going to leave bruises, bruises you were excited to see for days after so you could remember what happened on your first game night with the boys.

Copia was the last one to cum, his own stamina keeping him going just as was promised by Primo earlier. But even still, a few more thrusts and he was done, his own cum joining Primo and Terzo’s on your face but this time it hit your mouth and chin, dripping onto the floor when the load was too big to stick to your skin.

You all sat there for a moment, catching your breaths from the intensity of the evening. Primo, as predicted, was exhausted and making a joke about how his old body couldn’t keep up to everyone. Terzo had picked up that same cloth that was on your eyes earlier and used it to wipe the copious amounts of cum that had painted your face; the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was a look of disgust on his face as he finished cleaning you up as much as he could. “You did so well for us, tesoro.” He said, his voice low and warm. “I would kiss you but…”

You laughed, “I understand.”

“Grazie.”

“I still won, though.” You announced, smugly. You yelped when you felt Secondo spank your ass.

“Alright then, champion.” He said. “Let’s get you properly cleaned up.”

Secondo helped you get your habit back on once he had pulled out of you, and let you lean on him as you walked. Your legs were like jelly from both the position you were in and from the three orgasms the men had put you through. You bade each of them a good night before Secondo pulled you to his room, running you a bath upon arrival. As the water filled the tub, he stripped you naked again and had you sit on the edge, a damp, soapy cloth in his hands using it to properly wash your face, and clean you of any cum Terzo hadn’t managed to get. “You let us be too rough for you, amore.” He gently scolded you, watching as your face reddened beneath the warm water.

“It’s nothing I don’t enjoy, Papa.” You retorted, equally as soft. “I’d use my safeword if I didn’t. You know it makes me feel good when you use me. I feel better the more animalistic you get.”

“I don’t think we talked about the reason why before.”

“It’s the fact that you want me so much, you revert back to primal instincts and take me fiercely. Like you’re staking your claim.” Your thighs squirmed at the thought.

“You didn’t get enough just now, amore?” Secondo asked, clocking your body’s response. He knelt down and spread your legs, watching your labia part and wetness seep out again. He frowned. “Your poor pussy took such a beating - she’s so red.”

“She can take more, Papa.”

He looked up at you darkly. “You want your Papa to fuck you again? Fill you up with another load of cum, hm? You’re that desperate for cock you want your Papa to fill you again even though you’ve just taken four?”

“Please, Papa.” You whispered, feeling your nipples harden with arousal.

He licked a stripe up your cunt, from your hole to your clit and had you jumping. “In the tub then, puttana. Let me claim you properly.”

Commissions are open! ⛧ Memberships ⛧ Tip Jar

[jojosphilosophy]

#ravensnation #jojosphilosophy🙃 #nflplayoffs #gamewithsound #gamedayspecials #ravensbar #footballheadquarters #ibleedpurple #gametime🏈 #nfl #divisionalround #number1 #lamarvalous (at JoJo's Philosophy) https://www.instagram.com/p/B7Mp-Ilhk2C/?igshid=1e4ai52k2hfh8

[her-satanic-wiles]

Dawn Chorus - I

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 6.5k.

Reading Time: 26 min.

Warnings: attempted execution, blood, detailed aftermath of war, detailed deaths of children, detailed grief, detailed pain, mentions of sexual abuse within the church, mentions of rape, torture, violence

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976

Author’s note: This part of the story contains the origins of the Zionist argument, claiming that the land of Palestine belongs to Jewish people by will of God. I have written this section of the chapter as close to the Christian Bible as possible in an attempt to avoid Zionist ideology or propaganda - and I want to make one thing abundantly clear: this is a pro-Palestine blog. I will always and forever stand with the people of Palestine, and do my utmost to use my platform to promote the liberation of the Palestinians under Israeli apartheid. Zionism and Zionists have no place at my table. Please continue to boycott companies, platforms and people who send aid and support to the colonial state of Israel. Thank you.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

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

Your heart was pounding in your chest, from the physical exertion or the panic rising in the pit of your stomach, you couldn’t quite tell. Your mind was a contradicting war zone, unsure of which team would win. On the one hand, your brain was buzzing with adrenaline, playing back every event which lead you to this moment: running for your life away from God’s chosen soldiers, avoiding your inevitable demise like a human billionaire and his taxes. You had shown yourself alternate scenarios in which this didn’t happen, in which you’d still be safe in the Humanities Department of Heaven, distributing angels to help God’s children and guide them to the Light. Or enjoying the presence of a fellow guardian angel at the proverbial water cooler. The other side of the battle was autopilot-mode, no thoughts, no feelings, just running to save yourself.

You had a fierce belief in your Leader - almost entirely unwavering and unquestioning. You were His daughter, mirrored in His image and devoted only to Him. You did His bidding as requested, journeyed to realms under His name, played the messenger when He had something important to say to His children. You were there when Gabriel delivered God’s message to the Virgin Mary, hovering in the background and keeping Mary safe from harm in order to protect the coming of Christ. You aided in escaping Peter from prison, making him invisible to the guards as you and some others guided him to freedom by the will of the Almighty.You believed in Him so strongly, that you didn’t need to question Him - because He was always right, and His plan was always just.

You saw how the people of Egypt suffered at the hands of your Lord, and personally watched as the souls of the firstborn children who were slaughtered by Him as an act of protest against Pharaoh and his tyrannic reign. You kept your mouth shut at the livestock, knowing that food could be replenished easily enough. You thought about saying something when you saw the innocence of Egypt battling against the boils that God had given them. By His grace, you could even turn a blind eye to the adult firstborns who were killed as collateral damage. But the children? Some as young as newborns, all the way up to twelve years old. Pure babies without an ounce of hate or sins in their hearts, who didn’t understand the difference between their heathenish beliefs and their Hebrew friends. Who had never whipped a slave, or ordered the execution of God’s children. Who never had the cognitive capacity to think of such a thing, because their brains hadn’t had the chance to learn, to change, to join in God’s favour.

You’d never forget the small boy you watched over in the seconds before he took his last breath, sleeping soundly in his bed after a long day of studying and games. He couldn’t have been older than six. The oldest child to a woman whose husband had passed on mere months before. To a woman who was hanging on by a fragile thread as it was. You watched the boy’s breath rise and fall steadily in his peaceful slumber, until his chest fell for the final time. You watched his soul rise from his body, confused for a moment - painfully unaware that his mortal life had ended. You saw the fear in his eyes when he looked at his lifeless body in his bed, and felt his frustration when his mother ignored his pleas for help, not understanding that she couldn’t see his soul. You observed as Horus came for the child, wrapping His arm around him and offering some comfort to his distress. Horus looked at you as you stood in the doorway of the bedroom, His avian eyes full of the darkest of emotions as He guided yet another soul to the underworld, to have their heart weighed and judged by the guardian at the gates. His loathing poured off of Him as He shot you that look, before disappearing into the night with the child. You didn’t kill the boy, but under the gaze of Horus, you felt as though you had.

Leaving the boy’s home, the streets were full of lost and confused souls, ranging in age and wealth but all sharing the same sorrow and fear. Among the devastation stood your doubts of the Almighty’s plan, and the question of why lingered on your lips even as you were summoned back to Heaven to give a report on the situation - on its success. You felt uncomfortable as you summarised what you saw to the archangel Michael, who looked triumphant in God’s success, knowing he had carried it out perfectly for Him. He thanked you for your hard work - and in that moment, you had never felt so disgusted with yourself.

Of course, your thoughts were never your own, and you were called in to meet with your superiors about your doubts. They seemed to be reasonable, and understanding, especially given that this was your first offense. They promised to set your mind at ease, and reminded you that you were merely a foot-soldier in the Great Plan. You didn’t need to worry, you just needed to do as you were asked. Then they kicked you out of the office with a bad taste in your mouth, and a sense of foreboding of the things to come. Surely His plan couldn’t get any worse?

Then Canaan happened.

After the Israelites escaped slavery in Egypt, they wandered in the wilderness for forty years, led by their leader, Moses. During this time, God promised them a land of their own, a fertile land called Canaan, where they could settle and prosper. When Moses died, a new leader named Joshua arose to lead the Israelites into Canaan. Before entering the land, Joshua received a command from God to conquer it. God promised to be with Joshua and the Israelites, assuring them of victory if they remained faithful. Under the pretext of divine sanction, and God’s name on their lips, the Israelites engaged in systematic warfare, besieging cities, slaughtering men, women, and children, and plundering their possessions. The conquest was marked by bloodshed, devastation, and the utter annihilation of indigenous populations. Then they burned the whole city and everything in it, but they put the silver and gold and the articles of bronze and iron into the treasury of the Lord’s house. Jericho fell to ruin, crumbling in ashes on the ground as fire engulfed the buildings and eating everything it could. You watched as they celebrated over the dead, drank themselves into a stupor in the ruined homes, covered in the blood of the innocent. They didn’t bother themselves to move the corpses until the celebrations were over, days after they declared victory.

Despite the humans being unable to see you, you were still a real being wandering the streets of Canaan, sobering at the sights before you. Your beautiful, white wings dragged on the floor as you walked, gathering the dirt and the blood at the tips of your feathers. God’s children had got the land that they were promised, but what was the cost? From the freeing of the Hebrews to the conquering of Canaan, all you could see were the bodies that had been left behind of the civilians caught up in the fight. Though the blood pooled in puddles no more than 3cm deep, it felt as though you were in it up to your neck. You looked at the conquerors in disgust, and with a rage you’d never felt before - especially when you realised that, for Joshua, peace was never an option worthy of consideration. You were suffocated by the sinners that surrounded you, the murderers and looters, the fornicators who lurked in dark alleyways to celebrate with any passerby willing or otherwise. You watched as indigenous stragglers were dealt with, some more humanely than others and you wondered: was this truly God’s will all along? Did He plan for such brutality? Did He allow Joshua to go as far as he did - and did He give Joshua the strength and the power to do so? Or did He look at His children in disgust and disappointment, ashamed of them for turning to sin and Satan so easily in a moment of pure happiness? Despite claiming to worship a God of love and justice, the Israelites demonstrated cruelty and brutality in their pursuit of land and power - and your faith wavered a second time when you realised that your worst fears were true: God really did give Joshua the power to do as he did, and He felt no remorse for it.

You were pulled into your superior’s office again, this time scolded with much less understanding than before. Gabriel and Michael looked at you with disdain, nothing but anger in their eyes and on their faces as you sat before them in the celestial white room, eyes aching from the brightness.

Gabriel, with his luminous wings unfurled, regarded you with a solemn gaze. “Again, ___? Hast thou not learned from thy previous lapse in faith? Our duty as angels is to serve unquestioningly, to uphold the divine order without falter.”

Michael, his expression stern and unwavering, spoke with commanding authority. “Indeed, ___, the Almighty’s will is not for us to question. It is our sacred duty to carry out His commands with unwavering devotion.”

You bowed your head, feeling the weight of their reproach heavy upon you. “I understand, my lords. But I cannot help but struggle with the suffering and turmoil wrought by our actions. Is it not within our power to seek mercy and compassion, even amidst the fulfilment of divine justice?”

Gabriel’s gaze softened, though his tone remained firm. “Our understanding is limited, ___. We cannot comprehend the intricacies of God’s divine plan. It is not for us to question His wisdom or to challenge His authority.”

Michael nodded in agreement. “Our loyalty to the Creator must remain steadfast, even in the face of uncertainty or doubt. We are His instruments, His messengers, and His will shall be done.”

You sighed, “But His will brings the destruction of cities and the deaths of children. His own children. It is difficult for me to truly follow Him when there is so much devastation.”

Gabriel’s brow furrowed slightly at your words, his expression a mix of compassion and admonition. “___,” he said gently, “we are but conduits of His divine will. Our mortal understanding pales in comparison to the grand tapestry of His design. Though we may not comprehend the reasons behind the trials and tribulations, we must trust in His wisdom and benevolence.”

Michael’s gaze remained steely, but a hint of empathy flickered in his eyes. “Indeed, ___,” he spoke firmly, “the path of righteousness is not always easy to tread. But it is our duty to carry out His commands, no matter the cost. Our faith must endure even in the face of adversity.”

You felt a pang of uncertainty gnaw at your celestial essence, torn between the call of duty and the ache of compassion. “But what of mercy?” you questioned, your voice tinged with desperation. “What of compassion for His creations, even in their moments of waywardness?”

Gabriel’s voice held a note of solemnity as he responded, “Mercy and justice are intertwined in the divine order, ___. Though His judgments may seem harsh, they are tempered by His boundless love. We must trust that His actions serve a higher purpose, even when they are beyond our comprehension.”

Michael’s voice continued in his firmness, his tone sharp and parental. “Let this be the last time we speak of this, ___. There will be consequences to thy actions the next time thou decidest to question the Almighty.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words pressing down upon you like a leaden mantle. The gravity of his warning was unmistakable, a stark reminder of the consequences of defiance in the face of divine authority.

“Yes, my lord,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I understand.”

As Gabriel contemplated the situation, a solemn expression settled upon his countenance. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke, his voice measured and grave. “___,” he began, his tone tinged with a sense of sorrow, “in light of thy transgression and the gravity of thy doubts, it is clear that a lesson must be learned.” He paused, as if searching for the right words to convey his thoughts. Then, with a decisive nod, he continued, “I propose thou be assigned a period of reflection and penance. During this time, thou wilt be tasked with assisting souls in need—those who have lost their way, who suffer in anguish, or who cry out for guidance.”

Gabriel’s suggestion carried the weight of solemn judgment, yet also held the promise of redemption. It was a punishment tempered with compassion, an opportunity for growth and renewal amidst the shadows of doubt.

“Thou wilt walk among mortals,” Gabriel concluded, his gaze unwavering, “bearing witness to their struggles and offering solace in the name of the Almighty. May this experience serve to strengthen thy faith and reaffirm thy devotion to His divine will.”

“Let her spend time in Canaan until her penance is served, as she holds so much sympathy for the dead sinners.” Michael suggested, a smug tone oozing from his voice. He almost lit up at the look of protest you shot him, wanting to argue but Gabriel raising a hand and stopping you from speaking.

“It is decided. Thou may only return to us here when thou no longer holdeth contempt for our Lord. Dost thou have anything thou wishest to say?”

You stood and spread your wings, stretching them out and flapping them sharply in frustration. “There are several things I should like to say.” You retorted fiercely. “I shall restrain the urge, however. The Almighty gave me a tongue to use and a brain to think, after all.”

“And thou would doest well to remember that.” Michael commented, the smirk fading from his face. “Go. Leave us, petulant child. Perform thy duties and know thy place.”

Your time in Canaan was dreary - especially given that you didn’t want to be there in the first place, surrounded by those who used His name to spread evil. But still, you guided His creations as you were told to do, their guardian spirit keeping them from harm and returning them to the Light when their own beliefs had wavered. You felt somewhat like a hypocrite, guiding the wayward souls back to their own beliefs when you, yourself, were questioning yours. And, if you were to be truthful, your faith never completely restored to how it was before Canaan was conquered. You still held even the smallest amount of contempt for the Almighty, and silently questioned everything He did, wondering if His plans would succeed in peace or be laced with blood. But eventually, Heaven forgave you and told you that you were welcome to return, and you did so as though it was the easiest choice you had ever made… because, well, it was.

But all of that lead you to your third strike.

It had been some time since you entered the Mortal Realm, choosing to spend your time in Heaven and directing other angels to their tasks. You hadn’t really paid much attention to God’s creations as a result, almost entirely out of the loop. Since your time in Canaan, according to your fellow angels, much had changed. Great churches were built and devoted to God, while wars waged in His name and His word spread to those who needed it the most. Yet, in those churches, you discovered corruption everywhere you looked. The righteous taking their power and using it to abuse others, in God’s very own home, watched by the Saints and Apostles as they committed the most disgusting of acts to the vulnerable and the needy, as though they condoned such behaviour. You saw people, of all ages, routinely touched against their will, forced into submission and shunned if they dared to say anything - blamed by God’s other children for a crime they didn’t commit, but were the victims of instead. You watched the cycle repeat, families torn apart, and all the while the situation was monitored and allowed. Perhaps, even, ordered by the Lord Himself. You couldn’t bear it - you couldn’t fathom that the Almighty who you’d followed blindly your entire life could hurt another being like that, when He often portrayed Himself to be a kind and benevolent soul, a loving father to those who loved him. You needed to know why. Why must he enact such cruelty on his own creations?

You stormed into Michael’s office, where he, Gabriel, and Raphael met, staring at you in disbelief that you’d have the audacity to do such a thing. “I wish to speak with the Lord.” You demanded, anger coursing through your veins like never before.

Raphael’s brows furrowed. “Directly?”

“Yes.”

He laughed in disbelief. “Child, not even we get a direct audience with the Almighty. Whatever could thou say to Him?”

Gabriel sighed, disappointment oozing from his celestial being. “Thy faith hath wavered yet again, hath it not?”

“Aye, I stand before thee once more, yet again with a heart heavy with doubt.”

Michael’s own anger was bubbling under the surface. “Speak, and let us hear thy grievance.”

“My lords, I cannot remain silent any longer. I have witnessed the depths of depravity within the Church, the desecration of innocence by those who claim to be servants of God.”

“Thy words are bold, ___,” Gabriel said, his tone remaining level. “What troubles thee so?”

Your anger surfaced and manifested as a raised voice and shaking limbs. “‘Tis the scourge of sexual abuse that plagues the holy sanctuaries. Innocent children, robbed of their purity by those who should protect them. How can a just and loving God allow such atrocities to persist within His own house?”

Raphael nodded, unfazed by the spectacle in front of him. “Thy anguish is understandable.” He found this more entertaining than impertinent, clearly unaware of your two strikes before. “Yet thou must remember that God’s ways are beyond our understanding.”

“How can we stand idly by while the innocent suffer? Are we not tasked with defending the weak and the vulnerable?”

Gabriel rested his forehead on his hand. “Thou dost speak with passion,” he was exasperated by you, “but thou must not forget thy place. God’s will is inscrutable, and we are but instruments of His divine plan. How many times must we remind thee?”

“I refuse to be silent any longer! I will not turn a blind eye to the suffering of the innocent, even if it means defying the will of my superiors.”

Michael slammed his fist on the white desk, standing from his seat behind it. “Thou dost tread dangerous ground. Thy defiance borders on heresy!”

You echoed his tone. “So be it! I would rather be branded a heretic than remain complicit in the face of such evil. This smells of the Devil, not of our Lord. I do not understand why He sits by and allows it to happen.”

Gabriel tried to keep the peace between all of you, but he was losing control of the situation quickly. “Thy faith hath faltered, and thy words ring with rebellion. Thou must reconsider thy stance before it is too late.”

“I cannot, in good conscience, remain silent any longer. If God truly exists, then He shall judge me for my actions. But I cannot stand by while His name is used to justify such abominations.”

“Then so be it, ___,” Michael resolved through gritted teeth. “If thou wilt not bend to the will of God, then thou must bear the consequences of thy defiance.”

“So be it.”

“Thou hast been found guilty of heresy and defiance against the will of God for the third time. As Archangel of Judgment, it falls upon me to administer thy punishment.”

“Thou may judge me, but know that my heart is true, and my intentions pure.”

“Thy intentions matter not. Thy actions have brought dishonour upon the celestial host, and thy defiance cannot go unpunished.”

Gabriel stood and walked over to his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder and speaking urgently into his ear. “Michael, perhaps we should consider a less severe punishment. Her heart may yet be turned back to the path of righteousness.”

Michael shook his head. “Nay, Gabriel. The time for leniency hath passed. Ariel’s repeated offences demand a swift and decisive response.” All the while, his wrathful gaze never left your face. “Thy fate is sealed. As Archangel of Judgment, I hereby decree that thou shalt be cast out from the celestial realm and condemned to the Abyss.”

Raphael’s eyes widened with shock, but he said nothing.

Gabriel shook his brother and with sadness, he said, “Michael, art thou certain this is the right course of action? Once the sentence is passed, there can be no turning back.”

Michael replied firmly, “It is done, Gabriel. Justice must be served, even if it breaks thy heart. Let the punishment be carried out.”

Knowing your fate was worse than death, your body reacted for you - even before your brain had decided the best course of action. You turned swiftly on your heels and made your escape, wings flapping and trying to gain enough speed to remove yourself from the Heavens. Your heart was pounding in your chest, from the physical exertion or the panic rising from the pit of your stomach, you couldn’t quite tell. Your mind was a contradicting war zone, unsure of which team would win. On the one hand, your brain was buzzing with adrenaline, playing back every event which lead you to this moment: running for your life away from God’s chosen soldiers, avoiding your inevitable demise.

The portal to the Mortal Realm was just in your grasp, so by only the adrenaline that you were running on, you forced yourself to speed up - making a mad dash for the open world in front of you. You could hear Michael’s calls to, “Close that gate! Do not let her through!”

Someone had listened and had begun closing the portal. The closer you got to it, the smaller the hole became, shrinking and shrinking until all you could see was the tiniest speck of blue peeking out. But you couldn’t let that deter you - if you were caught, your future would hold horrors beyond celestial comprehension. You made a dive, perhaps it was your madness that drove you to do it, the adrenaline, or even your desperation, but you dove nonetheless. Your whole body ripped through the closing portal, feeling the walls shut in on you and grip onto your body with a searing, hot pain you’d never experienced before. Escaping from the Heavens was never a kind task, otherwise more angels would have done it, but now you were caught in Earth’s atmosphere, the planet’s gravity pulling you down to its very core with all the force it could muster.

The warmth was the first thing you noticed, the friction caused by the air resistance generated intense heat, turning your body into a blazing inferno akin to a comet streaking across the sky. Your skin prickled and your hair stood on end as the flames licked at your body, consuming everything in their path. The feathers on the outside of your wings were flying off and burning up in the flames, turning to ash in the atmosphere and disappearing entirely. The rush of wind roared in your ears, drowning out all other sounds as you plummeted towards the ground. The air around you shimmered with heat, distorting your vision and adding to the surreal sensation of falling through space. Tears appeared in your eyes but you couldn’t tell if that was because of the pain you could feel or the wind biting against you.

Despite the intense heat and the overwhelming sense of impending doom, there was also a strange beauty to the experience. The fiery trail you left behind painted a mesmerizing picture against the night sky, a fleeting spectacle that few that resided on this planet would ever witness. The sight of the planet from so far above reminded you just how the Almighty had made it: some land, but mostly water. As you fell, you recalled the horrors of the deep, the mammals with sharp teeth and stomachs bigger than your entire body. In that moment, for the first time in a while, you prayed to Him. You begged Him over and over to guide your body to land. You were an angel, you were likely to survive the fall despite the pain you were about to endure, and your weakened state couldn’t handle a battle with a sea creature that only wanted you for lunch.

Hurtling towards the ground, the last thing you remembered thinking was, this is how hellfire must feel. And that was when the world went dark.

*

“Clearly … happened … Sister.”

As you slowly regained consciousness, you became painfully aware of the searing agony coursing through every inch of your body. With your eyes tightly shut, you focused on the sensation of pressure and discomfort, trying to piece together what had happened. Your limbs felt heavy and unresponsive, and sharp pains shot through you with every movement. It was as if your body had been battered and broken, the impact of the fall leaving you bruised and battered beyond recognition. All the bones inside were broken, the bridge of your wings included, and your head throbbed beyond belief, as though you had a thousand hammers raging war against your skull.

Despite the overwhelming pain, a sense of relief washed over you as you realized that you were still alive. The thought of having survived such a catastrophic event filled you with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. Despite everything, He had heard your prayers and allowed you to touch ground - or perhaps this was the worst outcome… perhaps He wished for your pain as penance for your disobedience. Regardless, you would heal and be well, and then you could begin to live with the mortals and hide from Michael and his wrath. You were safe here… you were sure of it.

“… working … heard … looking … angel …”

The voice was registering with you now that you were regaining your cognitive abilities after the crash. Your brain was working over time to translate his words, though, leaving you slightly confused as this was phrasing you’d not heard before. You muttered something, your words coming out in Hebrew and silencing the man.

“What … ?” He asked, speaking some more but the rest of his words sounding fuzzy.

You tried again in Hebrew, but when that proved unyielding, you switched to Arabic.

“… know …?”

With great effort, you forced your eyes open, blinking away tears. Taking in your surroundings, you saw that you were lying amidst a pile of rubble, surrounded by the charred remnants of your fiery descent. You sat up a little, beholding the scene around you that was surreal and unsettling. The ground beneath you was scorched and blackened, a stark contrast to the surrounding, luscious, green landscape. The crater itself was a testament to the sheer force of your impact, a deep indentation in the Earth’s surface that stretched out before you in an almost perfect circle. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and charred debris, making it difficult to breathe. The heat radiating from the ground beneath you was intense, searing your skin and making you sweat profusely despite the chill of the night air.

Looking around, you could see the devastation wrought by your fall. Trees lay shattered and splintered, their branches twisted and blackened by the flames. Rocks and debris littered the ground, scattered in all directions by the force of the impact. On the edge of the crater, the man you heard stood, staring at you in disbelief.

He wore robes; a symphony of rich, deep crimson, a colour that seemed to capture the essence of devotion and authority. Crafted from the finest silk, the fabric cascaded in graceful folds, accentuating the dignified stature of the wearer. Each stitch, meticulously placed, whispered of skilled hands that had laboured to create a garment befitting its esteemed purpose.

The robe’s skirt, adorned with intricate gold and black embroidery, depicted sacred symbols and religious motifs that told tales of faith and tradition - resembling the cross that Yeshua died upon, but placed upside-down. The golden threads shimmered in the ambient light, casting a subtle glow that highlighted the reverence with which the garment had been crafted.

A matching red sash, elegantly tied across the man’s chubby waist hid the many buttons that ran the length of the garment. Its edges, crisply pressed and perfectly straight to show his precision and need to look as clean as possible.

The man’s sleeves, were straight, yet too long for him, as was the rest of his attire. As tidy as these lines were, as much care went into keeping it pristine, it was far too big for him like it had been handed to him from someone else that used to wear it perfectly. The cuffs ended midway down his palms, which, themselves, were hidden beneath leather, black gloves.

One hand was up to his ear, holding something to it and speaking in a tongue you couldn’t understand. Your eyes travelled over his face, his white skin dimmed by the light of the moon, but mismatched eyes shining brightly beneath black paint around his eyes. One was the colour of ice, the other was the colour of the trees. You’d never seen such a thing before in all of God’s creations. A moustache of mouse-brown sat above his top lip, which also had been painted black. As he spoke, you looked at his teeth, perfectly white but canines sharper than most mortal’s dental structures. You had heard of such a thing - rumours spreading amongst the Israelites as they told each other stories in the dark of the night - abominations so foul they ate people, consuming the blood from their bodies and ending their lives in a moment’s notice, hiding in the shadows of the night as the sun would kill them. You’d reported back to Gabriel, who’d confirmed these abominations were the work of Lucifer, an archangel who had fallen many eons ago and had renamed himself to Satan. Your eyes had fallen upon a vampyre, and as your eyes roamed over the rest of his body, you saw your halo clutched in his left hand, pressed between his fingers firmly as though you may make a grab for it at any moment.

You made an attempt to back away from the monster, but the bones in your body were still healing - taking longer now that your halo was in the hands of another and not atop your head as it ought to have been. You took in your surroundings a little more, brain power restoring to maximum as you realised he must be of the ancient Romans, the very same people who had killed Yeshua.

“I pray thee, do not harm me,” you said, your tongue switching to Latin. This got the man to stop again and look at you.

“You’ve hurt yourself enough without me getting involved, haven’t you, Angel?” he asked, responding in Latin back to you. His tone was unsettling, confident and dark. The glint in his eyes mimicked this. “… Latin.” The switch in language made you realise he wasn’t talking to you, but an invisible person in your midst.

“What tongue dost thou speak?”

“You’re a servant of the Betrayer and you don’t know my language?” he laughed, then spoke again to the invisible one. His hand moved from his ear and you saw light coming from his hand - expecting pain from Hell, you flinched. When the pain didn’t come, you heard him again. “It’s just a phone,” he explained, making a mockery of you. “I thought everyone up there knew what was going on down here.”

You sighed, “I have not visited in a while.”

“Oh really? When was the last time you were down here, then?”

“I am not compelled to divulge aught to thee, foul creature!” your voice was laced with disdain as you looked at him, fangs exposed as he grinned at you. He took a step towards the crater, and you tried to move back, howling in pain as you did so and earning another laugh from him.

“Then I’m not compelled to help you get your bearings.”

You stopped for a moment and thought - more knowledge would be useful at this stage. And keeping him talking would buy you some healing time and strengthen to get your halo then run again. “I beheld the passing of Yeshua - and that was mine ultimate moment in this earthly realm.”

The vampyre hissed at Yeshua’s name, almost as if he was in pain just hearing the name of the Holy Son. He straightened himself up and then took a seat on the edge of the crater. “That was two-thousand years ago, Angel. A lot’s changed since then.”

“What other tongue didst thou employ just now?”

“It’s called English. A mixture of Latin, Greek and German.”

A Germanic influence - you wondered why you were only picking up the Latin words at first. You were only prepared with the languages spoke around the time of Yeshua, meaning anything new that had been developed since was completely lost to your ears. Now that you knew the main languages, you commanded, “Speaketh once more in the English tongue.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He replied, but he did so in English.

“I comprehend thy words now. I give thee thanks.”

He scoffed. “That was fast.”

“‘Tis a… gift… from the Almighty.”

He looked at you in disgust.

You felt your body had healed enough for the pain to mostly subside, allowing you to fight your way to your feet. Your wings were still shattered, however, making you feel like a broken bird, vulnerable and weak in the eyes of her prey. The vampyre was preying on you, after all. “I express gratitude for the knowledge shared, yet I must make haste on my journey. I shall reclaim my halo and depart henceforth.” You held out your hand, silently praying that he’d be courteous and return your halo to you.

He looked at your hand and then at you. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” He stood from his seat and took a step towards you, watching you flinch as you stepped back. “The son of the Dark One has an angel in his grasp - what makes you think you’re going anywhere, hm?” He was moving towards you at an alarming rate, rendering your body useless against his speed. He gripped hold of your arm, tightly trapping you beneath his gloved fingers. You struggled against him, pulling back as hard as you could but failing, your body still not strong enough. “The way you fell makes me think you came here without permission, right? Which means, we have a lot to talk about.”

“Release me.”

“Or what?”

“I shall slay thee.”

He simply laughed, before turning to a person who was walking towards you, emerging from the darkness. She was a woman, visibly older than the vampyre and a little chunkier, too. She had long, blonde hair and looked more human than monster, though, you came to quickly realise she was a monster like him, and when she spoke, she did so in English. “The Unholy Father blessed us with a gift tonight,” she commented through a smile.

“What do we do with her now, Sister?” the vampyre asked, English rolling off his tongue easier than the Latin he spoke to you in.

The woman entered the crater and grabbed hold of your chin, looking at your body in one, fell swoop before making her decision. “Take her to the basements and strap her up - we have a lot of questions to ask about her home, don’t we, little angel?”

“Unhand me!” you yelled, struggling against both of their grasps.

The woman gripped onto your wrists and tied a metal chain around them - the metal burned against your skin as you fought against her, the pain getting worse and worse until you were forced to still. “Forged with hellfire,” she explained, “you’re not getting out of that easily.”

The vampyre dragged you across the grass and into a building, smelling old and of incense. You could tell that the building techniques were similar to the Babylonian buildings, but with Roman Corinthian architecture thrown in. There were also elements to this structure that you hadn’t seen before, and was only paying attention to because you needed to escape.

The vampyre pulled you down some steps, travelling further and further below ground as though he were walking you to Hell, until you finally stopped at a door. The room he threw you into was cold and dark, and it smelled almost exclusively of damp. In the centre of the room was a table, propped up on wood and resembling a crucifix. You were strapped onto it, similarly to the Messiah, except your device was made exclusively of hellfire-forged metal, making your entire body tingle with pain. You fought against him all the while, trying your best to escape, but all your efforts proved to be in vain. Once the woman entered the room, the torture truly began.

They both asked you things, questions about Heaven and the Almighty’s plan that you couldn’t answer even if you wanted to. When they were met with answers they didn’t like, they would reopen wounds that had healed and damage your body in ways that were unimaginable once upon a time. Feathers were plucked from your wings to start with, following cuts to your skin, slaps, and then short bursts of hellfire that rose from the ground. But you remained silent throughout, save for your screams of agony.

Eventually, they grew tired, and as the vampyre left, he looked at you and smirked. “We all have eternity, Angel. You’ll be here for the rest of it if you don’t cooperate.” He winked at you. “See you tomorrow.”

The door to the room closed behind them, slamming shut with an echo that reverberated throughout your entire being. Your halo sat on the other side of the room, resting on a table and taunting you. You could hear it crying out for you and your body begging for it. If you wore it, you’d heal in no time and regain all of your strength. But just being in its presence meant it would take longer. You were never without your halo and your holy light, but you’d seen what had happened to angels who were. Fearing that this was to be your fate, you wondered if it would have served you better to be caught by Michael and thrown to the void. Or perhaps you should have just continued on in blind faith of the Almighty, doing His bidding despite your heart breaking each time.

Strapped to Hell’s crucifix, all you could do was think of all the regrets you had, and beg into the darkness that He would show you mercy and allow you to come home. Or die quickly.

Prev. ⛧ Next

[her-satanic-wiles]

Dawn Chorus - V

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 7.2k.

Reading Time: 29 min.

Warnings: brief mentions of the past trauma the angel went through, including the harrassment and torture, but other than that this chapter is pretty chill.

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @dolceterzo @whitepawfics

🔞 MDNI 🔞

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

The Sister’s voice echoed through the room, laced with anger and accusation as she confronted the Cardinal about his inexplicable actions. “Why would you drain her when you knew we were going to perform the second ritual the next day?” Her words dripped with venom, each syllable heavy with indignation and fury.

You listened intently, your confusion deepening with each passing moment. The revelation only served to deepen the mystery surrounding the Cardinal’s betrayal, leaving you grappling for answers in the midst of the chaos unfolding in the next room, both of them oblivious to your consciousness and your eavesdropping. Why would he sabotage their plans at such a critical juncture? What could possibly drive him to act against his own interests in such a shocking manner?

“The second ritual didn’t fall on the right day, and you know it,” the Cardinal retorted, his voice tinged with frustration and defiance. Despite his anger, he made a planned effort to rein in his emotions, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure in the face of the Sister’s accusations. “Turning her into a demon won’t solve our problems.”

His words hung in the air, a sobering reminder of the gravity of their situation. The Cardinal’s admission hinted at deeper complexities beneath the surface, implying that their plans had encountered unexpected challenges and complications. It was a rare display of vulnerability from the normally stoic and resolute Cardinal, revealing the inner turmoil and conflict that plagued him.

“Oh,” she said with realization, her voice laced with a mixture of understanding and accusation. “I see what this is. You wanted to keep your little blood bank.”

Her remarks sliced through the tension like a knife, exposing the Cardinal’s hidden motives and the real reason of his actions. It was a damning revelation, a stark reminder of the Cardinal’s selfishness and lack of regard for the consequences of his decisions. In her assertion, the Sister captured the core of their unstable relationship, emphasising the power dynamics at work as well as the simmering problems beneath the surface.

The Cardinal’s response was measured yet weighted with underlying stress, his tone betraying a hint of defensiveness mingled with a touch of resignation. “It’s not about that, Sister,” he replied, his words carrying the weight of truth and conviction. “We both know the risks involved in the second ritual. We can’t afford to gamble with her life.”

“We need to control her!” The Sister exclaimed.

“And we will, I just need more time.”

“We’re running out of it, Copia! Our window of opportunity is closing, and if we don’t act soon, we risk losing everything we’ve worked for for the Dark One!” The Sister’s voice crackled with urgency, her words echoing the gravity of their situation.

“He doesn’t need another angel, He’s received plenty over the years.”

“No, but he needs information!” Something smashed in the other room which caused you to jump in surprise. “How many times must I remind you that Lord Lucifer gave us eternal life to do His bidding and give Him an advantage for the centuries to come? We are indebted to Him, and we could lose our lives because of your idiocy!”

The Cardinal protested, “He wouldn’t do that. He’s not Yhwh.”

There was a noticeable tension in the room as the Sister and the Cardinal argued angrily, both standing up for their own fears and motivations. You listened closely, your pulse thumping in your chest as you realised the magnitude of the situation. They were playing a dangerous game that may have serious ramifications for both you and them.

As the dispute progressed, you couldn’t help but feel a sensation of unease sweep over you. You were caught in the centre of their power battle, a pawn in their ultimate plan to serve Satan. But deep down, you knew you were more than just a tool to be used for their benefit. You were an angel with individual thoughts, feelings, and wants. And even though the Cardinal was in there defending what you believed to be your honour, he still seemed to forget that.

“You have until the next full moon, Cardinal!” The Sister shouted, her voice getting quieter. “If you’ve not gained control over her then, we’re doing things my way.”

The Cardinal huffed, and in a high-pitched, mocking tone, he repeated, “If you’ve not gained control of her then, we’re doing things my way.” This sentence was punctuated by a string of expletives in his native tongue, no doubt cussing her out angrily for the outcome of the argument. He continued to mumble to himself as he moved about the living room, no doubt beginning to clean what had broken.

You were unsure whether to move, or to stay where you were. As of now, you were on his bed, lavishing in the comfort and enjoying some freedom - if you were to leave, he might put you back in your cage. And so, you stayed put, your mind swirling with thoughts and emotions. The weight of the Cardinal and the Sister’s ultimatum hung heavy in the air, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped in a precarious situation. You even went as far to close your eyes as though you were still sleeping when the Cardinal came back into the room, gently closing the door so as not to disturb you. You felt the bed dip where he sat on it beside you, and though you couldn’t see them, you knew his eyes were on you, trained on your face and burning into your mind as if he were trying to read it.

You remained still, feigning sleep as the Cardinal’s presence loomed over you. Every fiber of your being was on high alert, your senses attuned to the slightest movement or sound. The tension in the air was palpable, a silent battle of wills unfolding between you and the Cardinal.

You could feel his gaze boring into you, probing for any sign of wakefulness or vulnerability. Despite your best efforts to maintain the facade of slumber, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that washed over you in his presence.

Minutes passed like hours as you lay there, locked in a silent standoff with the Cardinal. Each passing moment only served to heighten your apprehension, amplifying the sense of confinement and helplessness that enveloped you like a suffocating shroud.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you sensed the Cardinal’s presence recede. The bed shifted as he rose from his seat, his footsteps fading into the distance as he left the room.

Alone once more, you allowed yourself a moment of respite, exhaling a sigh of relief as the tension slowly dissipated. But even as you closed your eyes and attempted to find solace in the darkness, the weight of the Cardinal’s gaze lingered in your mind, and the memory of the Cardinal’s touch lingered like a ghostly imprint on your skin, haunting you even in his absence. Each sensation, from the prick of the needles to the gentle strokes of his hands, replayed in your mind with vivid clarity.

There was something about his gaze when you were at his feet, and the gentility of his touches as of late, that had you deeply questioning both the Cardinal’s intentions, and your own resolve. How this strange attention from him was awakening you in a way you never thought was possible. And though you tried to drive away the sin, you still couldn’t forget how your body responded under his scrutiny. You shuddered involuntarily as the phantom sensations danced across your flesh, a chilling reminder of the violation you had endured at his hands. Despite your best efforts to push the memories aside, they clung to you like a stubborn shadow, refusing to be banished from your thoughts.

You didn’t know how long you were out for this time, but when you woke up you felt almost entirely healed… and you were still on the Cardinal’s bed. You felt a fresh surge of energy entering your veins as you awoke from your sleep. The old aching that had tormented your body appeared to have vanished, replaced by a renewed life that left you feeling almost perky.

With cautious optimism, you forced yourself out of bed, appreciating the lack of agony that had plagued you for so long. As you climbed to your feet, you couldn’t help but wonder at the sense of liberation that swept over you, like a bird freed from its cage after a long imprisonment.

Stepping out of the Cardinal’s bedchamber, you entered the living room with anxiety, unsure of what lay beyond the doorway. The space was bathed in a warm glow of flickering candles, which created dancing shadows against the walls and gave the place a peaceful atmosphere.

Your attention was pulled to the figure sitting on the love seat, bathed in warm amber light that streamed through the room. The Cardinal was dressed in pyjamas and a robe, his usual powerful demeanour minimised by the informal garments and a tousled appearance indicating a recent bout of sleep.

He sat with a book in hand, the pages lit by the warm glow of the candles, his gaze seemingly immersed in the words on the page. His features were relaxed, with a tiny furrow of concentration on his brow as he read deeper into the text.

As you arrived, the Cardinal looked up from his reading, his mismatched eyes meeting yours with a flash of surprise before a faint smile formed on his lips. “Come here,” he ordered, returning his eyes back to the pages of his book. His voice was deep and gravelly, like it was the first time it was used that night.

For some reason, your body responded and did as you were told without the need for the halo, and you found yourself once again at the feet of the Cardinal, on your knees at his request. He moved his book and patted his thigh, inviting you to rest your head there, which you obliged, draping your upper body over him and pushing your cheek into the warmth of his robe. His hand found its way to your hair, and he gently stroked it, like a human would with their dog who was asking for attention.

Despite the internal turmoil that churned within you, there was an undeniable sense of warmth and comfort that enveloped you as you nestled against the Cardinal’s side. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers threading through your hair with a tenderness that belied the darkness that lurked beneath the surface.

As you rested your head upon his thigh, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of security wash over you, like a weary traveller finding refuge in the shelter of a friendly inn after a long and arduous journey. The rhythmic motion of his hand stroking your hair was oddly soothing, lulling you into a state of peaceful resignation despite the turmoil that raged within your heart.

In that moment, as you lay entwined with the Cardinal, you couldn’t deny the conflicting emotions that warred within you. There was a part of you that recoiled at the thought of finding solace in the arms of your captor, a deep-seated instinct that screamed for you to break free from his grasp and reclaim your autonomy.

And yet, there was another part of you that yearned for the comfort and reassurance that his presence offered, a primal longing for companionship and connection in a world that seemed so cold and unforgiving. It was a paradoxical dance of desire and revulsion, a tangled web of conflicting emotions that left you feeling simultaneously adrift and anchored in the Cardinal’s embrace.

But as you lay there, enveloped in the warmth of his robe and the gentle caress of his hand, you couldn’t help but surrender to the moment, if only for a fleeting instant. For in the midst of chaos and uncertainty, there was a fleeting sense of peace to be found in the arms of the one who held you captive, a fragile sanctuary amidst the storm that raged within your soul.

“You’ve been asleep for ten days, Angel,” he commented absentmindedly. Double the time of your last recovery. No wonder you felt rejuvenated.

““I am disheartened to see thou hast not yet choked on my blood, Cardinal.” You told him, your voice more teasing than resentful.

The Cardinal heard this and chuckled, “I held on until you woke up, so you could watch it happen yourself.”

You tittered, “Now that I am alert, there is naught preventing me from enacting it myself.”

“You can try,” the Cardinal challenged.

“I shall indeed. However, it would happen when thou least expect it.” You sat up and looked at him. “I would mend more swiftly if thou did return to me my halo, even if it were but for a brief span.”

“Out of the question,” the Cardinal said moving his hand from your hair to your cheek.

“I shall perish if I do not retrieve it anon.”

“You’ll be grateful you’re not going back in your cage. Keep this up, and you’ll be back in there.”

You hesitated but still decided to ask, “Why didst thou set me free?”

“Don’t ask me questions I don’t want to answer.”

“How shall I discern to refrain from posing such queries if I am unaware of thy reluctance to provide answers?”

The Cardinal chuckled, “By the look on my face.”

“But if thy countenance be ever thus, then I shall never discern the difference.”

“You better not be calling me ugly.”

You giggled, “Not ugly, Cardinal. Yet I envision it proved troublesome for thy mother to tender affection towards thee.”

He slapped your cheek for your impertinence, not hard at all, in fact it was more like a tap. “Do you want to go back in your cage?”

You shook your head and draped yourself back over him as he wanted you to do in the first place. “I am exceeding content in this place, I thank thee.”

The Cardinal laughed. “I thought as much.”

You didn’t go back in your cage that night, or the night after. In fact, the Cardinal didn’t expect you to go in your cage at all except if and when the Sister would come and visit unannounced. But it was made very clear to you that the door would be locked at all times, and there would be at least two ghouls standing guard outside.

The days stretched into weeks, and still, you remained free from the confines of your cage. It was a strange and unsettling shift in dynamics, one that left you feeling both grateful for the newfound freedom and wary of the Cardinal’s intentions.

Without the familiar bars of your cage to contain you, you found yourself wandering the Cardinal’s chambers with a sense of cautious curiosity, exploring every nook and cranny as if searching for hidden answers amidst the shadows that lurked within the room.

In the Cardinal’s apartment, you uncovered a plethora of objects and trinkets that provided insight into his mysterious personality and the depths of his depravity. Ancient tomes and grimoires were scattered across the room, containing occult rites, incantations, and forbidden information. These books, bound in leather and covered with intricate sigils, contained intriguing symbols and metaphysical teachings that alluded to the Cardinal’s fascination with the occult.

You found an assortment of foreboding artifacts filled with dark power and nefarious purpose, hidden away in shadowy nooks and secluded alcoves. From ceremonial daggers and ritualistic equipment to elegant talismans and cursed relics, every piece exuded a malevolent aura that sent shivers down your spine.

Subtle sigils and symbols of unknown provenance were woven into the fabric of draperies and tapestries, and etched into the walls. These mysterious marks pulsed with ghastly energy, their meanings hidden by layers of mysticism and old legends.

Locked chests and coffers littered the room, concealing untold treasures and forbidden secrets. These perplexing containers were ornamented with sophisticated locks and enchantments, their contents shrouded in ambiguity, and protected by powerful wards and incantations.

As you began to examine the Cardinal’s chambers, your keen eyes noticed a little, intricately carved wooden box nestled away on a shelf in the corner of the room. Unlike the other artifacts in the room, this box appeared to exude a sense of hidden charm rather than obvious malevolence.

Intrigued, you approached the shelf and cautiously raised the box’s lid to see its contents. A collection of exquisite treasures and keepsakes were snuggled inside, surrounded by layers of smooth velvet lining.

A little bundle of velvety, mousey-colored hair, comparable to the Cardinal’s sat inside the box, held together with a beautiful, black ribbon. Despite its unassuming appearance, this keepsake exuded solemnity and veneration.

A beautifully drawn miniature portrait of a solemn-faced woman with piercing eyes and a soft, yet forced smile sat underneath the hair. The craftsmanship was exceptional, catching every detail with astonishing precision. After careful examination, you recognised it was a younger image of the Sister.

A little sachet containing fragrant herbs and spices released a delicate yet seductive perfume of lavender and rosemary into the air. Its purpose and significance remained unknown, adding to the collection’s uniqueness.

And an old pocket watch, its numerous gears and mechanisms glimmering softly in the chamber’s faint lighting. Despite its antiquity, the watch appeared to be properly kept, indicating that it held sentimental worth for the Cardinal.

Some of the books around the place, you’d come to learn only hours after being left alone and free for the first time, were novels rather than entirely non-fictional, educational works. Novels from romances, to horrors, to contemporary works and classical, you found them all among his private collection. And that was how he found you when he came home that evening, curled up on his love seat with a book in your hands and your nose buried deep into it.

“Having fun?” He asked, removing his hat and placing it on the dresser in front of the door.

You didn’t hear him at first, too occupied with the world in front of you to realise he had even returned home. When he repeated himself, you finally acknowledged his presence. “It is wondrous what you mortals would engage in during thy leisure hours.” you remarked, closing the book but trapping your finger between the pages. “Truly, this is a marvel. I find myself transported to another realm, yet anchored to this very seat!”

He smiled. “If you like that, then you should watch a movie. Or play a video game.”

“I am content with these works, I thank thee.” You replied. “Though, I must declare, it will not be long until I complete thy collection.”

“Well,” he moved your legs and sat down beside you, removing the book from your hands, “let me know when you do. I’ll get one of the ghouls to bring you up a selection from the library.”

“Hath this place a library?” Your eyes widened.

“Yeah, of course. The Vatican has one, why wouldn’t we?”

Come to think of it, it did make sense that the Satanic Ministry would have its own library filled with untold knowledge, given that was why Lucifer was expelled from Heaven in the first place. “How many of these tomes doth it possess?” You asked, curiously.

“So many questions.” He said, tapping his belly.

“Inquiries thou art disinclined to respond to?”

He nodded.

You sighed, “Then shall I remain forever ignorant.” You sat back to your original position and opened the book again, choosing to read over conversing with him.

That night, he worked at his desk by candlelight, with you at his feet, a book in your hand and head in his lap. Every now and then, he’d reach down to stroke your hair, but in the meantime, your presence was simply enough for him. Sometimes, when you were alone in the apartments, your mind would drift off to the Cardinal and his sudden change in behaviour. How his guilt at violating you was enough to change him almost completely.

As you reflected on the Cardinal’s change, a ray of hope flickered within you. His sudden concern for your well-being and sympathetic gestures, however fleeting, provided a glimmer of redemption amid the darkness of your incarceration. With each stroke of your hair and soft touch, the Cardinal appeared to silently atone for his past wrongdoings finding solace in the calm companionship you offered.

Even while you basked in the warmth of his devotion, a niggling worry lingered in the back of your mind. Could this sudden friendliness be genuine, or was it only a ruse to conceal deeper intentions? Perhaps he’d realised that getting information out of you through torturous means wasn’t getting him anywhere, and so he was trying to trick you with falsities to get what he wanted. Despite your worries, you couldn’t resist the pull of his presence, the way his touch sparked a desire within you for connection and understanding in an uncertain world.

As the light flickered and cast swirling shadows across the room, you found yourself slipping into a state of calm, nestled on the Cardinal’s lap, the weight of the book in your hand a reassuring reminder of the brief moments of tranquility you enjoyed in his presence. And at that moment, surrounded by the lovely glow of candlelight and the quiet whisper of turning pages, you allowed yourself to imagine that escape was possible if you simply bade your time and waited long enough.

As expected, you’d gotten through all of the books in his possession and found yourself craving more. It didn’t take you long to get through the entire library situated on his shelves, and you found yourself igniting with boredom. Now that you’d had the privilege of freedom (or rather, freedom adjacent), you found yourself crawling the walls itching to be released unto the mortal realm like a bird.

The Cardinal was out for a lot of the night, meaning you had nothing to entertain you, until you noticed the box large rectangular box, its glossy surface reflecting the dim light in an almost mesmerizing manner and hanging on the wall opposite the love seat. You’d spent so much time with your nose in a book, you’d hardly noticed anything else.

You took hesitant steps towards the curious object, your fingers running down its smooth exterior. You saw your own reflection in the black mirror, and pulled some faces before your fingers continued their journey across the cold box. You observed a row of buttons organised neatly on one side, each with enigmatic symbols and marks. Intrigued, you tapped one of the buttons, your mind racing with possibilities.

To your surprise, nothing happened at first. Determined, you continued to investigate the thing, prying and poking at its many parts in search of any clues as to its purpose. Your efforts were met with quiet until, finally, your fingers brushed against a small switch buried between the buttons.

With a slight click, the frame sprang to life, its surface flashing to reveal a brilliant display of colours and images. Your eyes widened in amazement, watching as it began presenting sights from faraway countries and odd faces unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

Intrigued by this novel display, you reached out to touch the images dancing across the screen, only to discover that they were just beyond your reach. You were fascinated as the scenes altered and transformed before your eyes, each one providing a glimpse into a world beyond your own.

You reached down and pressed a different button, and the image cut out, replaced by something else. A purple door came into view that was opened by a woman, so angry, her arms were flailing as she stormed into the room. “I cannot believe that you didn’t tell me that we are still married!” She exclaimed.

Following her, a man entered, equally as frustrated and more guilty. “Look I was going to tell you!” He argued back, somehow much calmer than her.

“When?! After the birth of our first secret child?!” Laughter from a crowd of people sounded through the speakers, making you turn around thinking that they were in the room with you. They weren’t. “Ross didn’t get the annulment; we are still married.”

Their friends sounded disgusted and surprised, the blonde one more so than the rest.

The man called Ross sighed, “Okay, maybe it wasn’t my best decision. But I just couldn’t face another failed marriage.”

Another man spoke up, his tone flat. “Okay, let me just jump in and ask, at what point did you think this was a successful marriage?” The people laughed again.

Ross spoke again, awkwardly laughing, “Rach, come on, if you think about it, it’s actually kinda funny.” He laughed alone in the room, but the crowd laughed again. Even though you didn’t understand entirely what was happening, the laughter made you chuckle, too. “Okay, maybe it’s best not to think about it.” More laughter.

A woman spoke this time, long blonde hair and a lilt to her voice, “Okay, this is inexcusable. I am shocked to my very core!” She sounded like she was exaggerating.

“Phoebe, I told her you already knew.”

Everyone looked at Phoebe for a moment, and she processed her next words: “Another lie. You have a sickness!” So many sins, such little time.

The other man from before spoke again, in the same jovial tone as before, “Ross, just for my own piece of mind, you’re not married to anymore of us are ya?”

The clip ended and was replaced with a yellow couch sat in a field in front of a fountain, so large, it couldn’t be hidden behind the seat. A lamp sat beside it, as though it were the one lighting the field despite its dull brightness. No, not a field… a park? There were lights behind it that resembled buildings. Text appeared on the screen, each letter separated by a different coloured dot; red, yellow, blue, red, yellow, blue.

A song began to play from the device, an enthusiastic and engaging song, with energetic guitar riffs and rhythmic percussion. As the tune filled the room, you found yourself tapping your foot to the beat, enthralled by the music’s captivating vitality. Although, when it first sounded, you startled, and screamed out your surprise.

“So no one told you life was gonna be this way,” the song sung, followed by four, sharp claps.

A joyful group of voices sang the upbeat, playful words, which almost appeared to invite you into their world. They spoke of friendship and connection, laughing and love, building a story of shared experiences and memories that struck a chord deep within you.

As the song reached its peak, the visuals on the screen began to alter once more, revealing a group of individuals gathering on the yellow couch you had previously seen. Their features were strange… new - with each one smiling as they laughed and joked together.

You sat transfixed as the image unfolded in front of you, drawn in by the warmth and excitement emanating from the television. And when the final chords of the theme song died away, you couldn’t help but feel a connection to these strangers, as if they were old friends welcoming you into their group.

“Having fun?” The Cardinal’s voice sounded behind you, causing you to jump out of your skin. You turned to face him, eyes wide and fearful, and you noticed a dark glint in his eye as though he enjoyed making you squirm.

You stuttered, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the Cardinal. “I… I was just… I found this… thing… and…”

He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine. “It’s called a television,” he explained, walking over to stand beside you. “It’s a device that plays moving pictures and sound.”

You blinked, trying to process this new information. “Moving pictures and sound?” you repeated, your curiosity piqued.

“Yes, exactly,” the Cardinal replied, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “It’s a form of entertainment. People watch television shows and movies on it.”

You tilted your head, still not entirely understanding. “What is… a television show?” you asked tentatively.

“It’s like a play, but recorded and shown on the screen,” he explained. “It tells a story, with characters and plots, just like the stories you read in books.”

You nodded slowly, beginning to grasp the concept. “And this…” you gestured towards the television, “is one of these… television shows?”

The Cardinal nodded, his smirk widening. “Yeah. And it seems you’ve stumbled upon one of the most popular shows.”

“What’s it called?” you asked, curiosity burning brightly in your eyes.

“It’s called Friends,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. “And trust me, you’re in for a treat.”

He sat on the seat and gestured for you to sit at his feet, and place your head in his lap like you usually did. The show continued with the two of you sitting like that, his hand in your hair and your eyes mesmerised by the show.

As the show progressed, you grew more immersed in the plot, your eyes glued to the screen as the characters moved through numerous comic scenarios. You couldn’t help but be fascinated and amazed by this new type of entertainment, which was unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

You took a few glances up at the Cardinal, examining his expression as he watched the show with amusement and focus. It was unusual to see him in this light, relaxed and almost… human. For a minute, you nearly forgot about the evil underlying his facade, the control he wielded over you.

In that moment, you realised you’d become too comfortable there; his pet in his Satanic temple, and you were too happy with it. For far too long, you had allowed yourself to be lulled into a false sense of security, seeking sanctuary in the Cardinal’s rare acts of tenderness and compassion. But now, as you sat at his feet, head in his lap, you couldn’t avoid the fact any longer.

You were nothing but a pawn in his sick game, subject to his whims and ambitions. And, while you may have experienced brief moments of happiness in his presence, they were nothing more than illusions that masked the terrible reality of your situation.

With a heavy heart, you promised to break free from the ties that held you, to restore your independence, and to oppose the Cardinal’s authority over you. But you knew deep down that the journey to freedom would be difficult, and that the Cardinal would not give up his grasp on you without a fight.

As you looked up at him, a fire kindled within you, a desire to break away from his grip and make your own path forward. You may have been his pet for a while, but you refused to remain a prisoner forever.

“I have Saturday night free,” The Cardinal told you, eyes still fixed on the television, “did you want to see the library?”

His nonchalant question caught you off guard, prompting you to lift your head from his lap and stare up at him, surprised and hesitant. The possibility of visiting the library with the Cardinal was both exciting and unnerving, considering the power dynamics at work between you.

“I…I suppose,” you said cautiously, uncertain how to answer to his surprise invitation. The chance to explore the library, with its limitless volumes of knowledge and secrets, was obviously appealing, but you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of unease in the back of your mind.

The Cardinal nodded in answer, his gaze still set on the television screen, as if he were only half-listening to the exchanges. “Good,” he noted simply, before returning his focus to the show.

You couldn’t help but feel nervous about spending Saturday night alone with the Cardinal in the library. But, deep down, you were fascinated about the library’s secrets and the hidden truths it may hold. What a Satanic library would look like, and what precisely they had hidden away on their shelves.

When Saturday night rolled around, the Cardinal woke and begun getting ready for the excursion, before he turned to you. From beneath his bed, he pulled out a hefty chain. It wasn’t forged with hellfire, he told you, it was just a regular metal. But he understood that your strength wasn’t fully back to how it was when he first met you, after being without your halo for so long, so he was confident you wouldn’t break free of those chains.

You sighed and presented your wrists to him, grateful that it wasn’t going to hurt you but annoyed that you were still to be treated as a prisoner, despite that being what you were. But, he shook his head in response. “That’s not what I’m going to restrain, Angel.” He informed you, gesturing you to turn around.

He tied your wings together with that chain, making sure you couldn’t fly away. Your wrists remained unbound.

As you walked down the corridors of the Ministry, the eyes of the Satanic nuns and monks followed your every move, their gazes filled with a mixture of curiosity, suspicion, and perhaps even a hint of envy. You couldn’t fathom why they’d envy you - chained and restrained as you were paraded through the hallways like a prize. You couldn’t help but feel uneasy beneath their attention, knowing of the muttered rumours and speculation that would undoubtedly surround your appearance among them.

The Cardinal led the way, his steps confident and purposeful as he escorted you through the Ministry’s dimly illuminated corridors. You kept your attention fixed straight ahead, attempting to avoid the looks and whispers that seemed to follow you everywhere you went.

Despite the weight of the chains that bound your wings, you moved with dignity and grace, refusing to let your imprisonment shatter your spirit. You were determined to be strong, to face whatever trials lay ahead, in the hopes of one day breaking free from the chains of your imprisonment. Every now and then, you’d turn to find eight ghouls following behind you, and though you couldn’t see them, you were sure their eyes were firmly fixed on you beneath their masks.

As you entered the ancient library, the massive wooden door groaned behind you, trapping you inside the unhallowed halls of knowledge that had stood for generations. The air was dense with the perfume of worn parchment and the faint mustiness of time, a fragrance that enveloped you like a veil as you walked through the maze of high shelves.

Dim, flickering lighting produced lengthy, dancing shadows on the walls, showing the building’s solemn design that dated back millennia. The roof soared high above, covered with exquisite, time-worn frescoes that appeared to guard the numerous tomes below. The air was still, interrupted only by the occasional rustle of pages or distant echo of footfall.

The shelves, built of dark, polished wood, stretched eternally in all directions, each bearing the weight of centuries-old books and forbidden knowledge. Some volumes appeared to sag under the weight of their age, while others stood straight and proud, their leather-bound spines broken and matured.

In the dead centre of the library, atop a reversed pentagram, stood a statue of a snake made from white marble, sat upon and winding around a black, marble pedestal. The snake’s jaw was unhinged enough to comfortably hold an apple between its sharp fangs, the apple itself had been painted the most delectable shade of richly dark red, and polished as though it were a real apple, so shiny you could see yourself in it. It represented the most famous of Lucifer’s triumphs: presenting “God’s children” with the knowledge they’d need to withstand his criminal behaviour. Standing in front of the snake, you very much felt how Eve would have: curious, enraptured and tempted, and you felt your stomach churn at the celebration of such a pivotal point of their ancestral history.

The pentagram the snake lived upon was also a marvel to behold, though you hated to admit it. The pentagram itself was carved into the pentagonal shaped stage, each of the corners of the star lining up perfectly with the points of the pentagon. Each straight side leveled out the different heights of the flooring using two, wooden staircases separated by a thick ramp - the ramps themselves covered in artistic portraits of all animals associated with Him, showing goats, cats, bats, owls and crows - all animals that became associated with Satan. All incredibly intelligent animals, no wonder the Catholics feared them. In a circle surrounding the pentagram were intricately carved atropa belladonna flowers and vines, floral representation of his existence. The petals of the belladonna were subtly stained a purple hue to replicate their natural colours.

The statue made you uncomfortable, especially as the snake’s eyes seemed to follow you around the room. And so, you ducked into one of the shelves and hid from its gaze, though you could still feel its sight burning on your skin. The Cardinal laughed at your discomfort, but followed you wherever you went, his ghouls immediately in tow. You had considered making a run for it, now that you knew the size of the library. And, there was a brief moment where you were about to enact your spontaneous plan. But the chain was still tied around your wings, and you wouldn’t get very far on your feet.

You cautiously reached out, your fingers tracing the spines of the ancient tomes that lined the shelves. Each book seemed to pulsate with a dark energy, whispering secrets and promises of forbidden knowledge. Despite your trepidation, you couldn’t resist the allure of the mysteries that lay within.

Your gaze fell upon a weathered volume bound in cracked leather, its title obscured by time and wear. As you pulled it from the shelf, a shiver ran down your spine, as if the book itself were alive and watching you with malevolent intent.

Next, your eyes were drawn to a tome adorned with intricate sigils and symbols, its pages yellowed with age and filled with cryptic incantations. You could feel the power emanating from the ancient text, calling out to you with a seductive whisper.

You spent what felt like an eternity wandering the shadowy aisles of the ancient library, your senses overwhelmed by the weight of the centuries-old knowledge that surrounded you. Time seemed to warp and distort within the confines of the unhallowed halls, leaving you disoriented and uncertain of how long you had been there.

In reality, it was difficult to say exactly how much time had passed. Minutes stretched into hours as you pored over the dark tomes, each page revealing new secrets and mysteries. The Cardinal’s presence loomed nearby, a constant reminder of your captivity and the precariousness of your situation.

You finally chose a book, despite the weariness of your bones after contemplating the tomes for so long. You were surprised to see such a wide variety of works, anywhere from fantastical fiction, to non-fiction books based on history and language. You had settled in the religions section, morbid curiosity getting the better of you and finding yourself wanting to know what the mortals truly thought of the Almighty and His grace. There were numerous texts debunking the existence of the Almighty, which you cackled at. You couldn’t understand how people wouldn’t choose to believe that at least one creator existed - even if it wasn’t the Creator. And, so, you picked up a Bible, the King James’ Version, to be precise, and made your way back to the Cardinal.

When he saw the book you were holding, he raised his eyebrow, but chose to say nothing. Instead, he watched you walk over to one of the desks and situate yourself there, ignoring the Satanic followers on the chairs nearby gawking at you with open mouths and pale faces.

The Cardinal approached just as you opened the book and cleared his throat, “Angel, what are you doing?”

“I am reading, Cardinal.” You responded, matter-of-factly, as though he were stupid. “I had not deemed your ancient eyes would falter in perception, albeit they bear the weight of eternity. Flaws in sight are unsurprising.”

“You do realise you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to?” He asked, staring at you warily.

You laughed, “To appropriate a tome from a library? Cardinal, ‘tis thievery. ‘Tis a sin.”

“You’ve been in libraries before, right?”

You sighed and closed the book. “Indeed, I have ventured into libraries. I have graced some of the grandest ones. The Library of Ashurbanipal, the Library of Pergamum, the Library of Alexandria… that last one was my cherished abode. Such splendor, such vibrancy. Delving into scrolls within was always a delight to my soul.”

The Cardinal flinched, “Maybe we should get you a history textbook on Ancient Egypt.”

“Thou possess a copy?”

“Several… was that the last time you went into a library, circa 100 AD?”

“Ah, yes. Mortal years tethered to the birth of Christ. Naturally, thou dost adhere to those. It was nearer to 100 BCE. It was my ultimate sojourn to the mortal realm before I ascended eternally to Heaven.”

“Great, so times have changed. Most books within libraries you can take home with you, and you can take home multiple at a time.”

You sat and listened intently to the Cardinal’s explanation on how modern libraries worked, and though you could feel he was holding information back from you, you were sure this wasn’t a malicious act. He was thinking before he spoke, making sure all of his words were simple and easy to understand. And so, with this newfound knowledge, you chose multiple books, most of them historical and linguistic based, allowing you to properly study the Almighty’s creations and what they’d done in your time between visits. Playing catch-up was always your favourite thing to do before your Heavenly missions began, and so it excited you to learn 2,000 years had passed and a lot had changed. Upon the Cardinal’s recommendation, you grabbed a historical textbook on Ancient Egypt, though you couldn’t fathom what new information you would learn, given you’d already spent so much time there.

Approaching the front desk of the library, you were met by a stern-looking Satanic nun who regarded you with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Despite the discomfort of her gaze, you remained composed, knowing that any sign of weakness could be exploited by your captors.

With a sense of trepidation, you placed the stack of books on the desk, each one heavy with the weight of forbidden knowledge. The nun’s eyes flickered over the titles, her expression inscrutable as she scanned each one. After a moment of silence, she reached out with a bony hand and began to process the books, checking them out in silence.

As she worked, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled over you like a shroud. The library, with its ancient tomes and whispered secrets, seemed to hold you in its thrall, trapping you in its shadowy embrace.

Finally, the nun finished checking out the books and handed them back to you with a curt nod. You accepted them with a sense of relief, eager to leave the oppressive atmosphere of the library behind you. With one last glance at the forbidding shelves, you turned and made your way out of the building, the weight of the knowledge you carried heavier than ever before.

Prev. / Next

Find the artwork for this chapter by @piaart here!

[her-satanic-wiles]

Dawn Chorus - IV

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 6.1k.

Reading Time: 25min.

Warnings: blood extraction, body control, corruption kink,finger sucking, forced sexual activity,gaslighting,irrelevant character death,mentions of death by sun exposure, non-consensual sexual activity,objectification, religious disillusionment, religious trauma, sexual harassment, taking advantage of innocence, use of needles,use of the word “bitch” unkindly

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @whitepawfics @dolceterzo

🔞 MDNI 🔞

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

“I feel as though thou hast drained all my blood and brought me to the brink of death.” You tried to stand but your body was too weak. “For how long hath I been in slumber?”

“Five days,” the Cardinal looked back to his book, “your recovery time is getting longer. We’re going to have to start rationing if this keeps up. Or get another angel. Say, do you think we could use you as bait?”

“I pray thee choke and perish upon my blood.”

The Cardinal laughed. “If that happens,” the door to his bedroom knocked, then opened, “you’ll be stuck in that cage forever - ah! Brother López. Come in, please!”

The Brother opened the door wider and stepped inside, looking polite as he watched the Cardinal stand to greet him.

“Angel,” the Cardinal addressed you, “this is my new cleaner, Brother Santiago López.”

You couldn’t help the wave of disappointment and fear take over you. But as you spoke, you tried to keep your voice level and nonchalant, “Oh. What befell thy previous caretaker?”

“I found out he was trying to help a certain prisoner escape, and so he needed to be punished.”

“If thou has slain him, I swear by the Almighty I shall smite thee!” Your anger bubbled up far too quickly for someone who was supposed to remain nonchalant.

“Oh relax, you crazy bitch. We sent him to an abbey in America to shovel pig shit.”

You exhaled a sigh of relief, feeling your muscles relax knowing that he was okay. “For what reason?”

The Cardinal tapped Brother López on the shoulder and gestured for him to leave, which he did promptly, fearing what he was going to see. “You know why.” The Cardinal said, simply. His voice quieter than usual.

Your voice was less sharp, but still loud. “I can assure thee, I do not.”

“You mean to tell me that you weren’t trying to escape? That you and Brother Hayward weren’t attempting to break you out of that little cage to get you to freedom, hm? Come on now, Angel. I’m more than happy for my pets to have pets, but when they start rebelling against me, lines must be drawn.”

“Thou wast aware he visited here?”

He took in a long breath through his nose, so sharp his nostrils retracted with the inhale. “Could smell him Every time I came home and his scent was stronger than usual - knew he was here a while. And then when he was under the bed, his heartbeat was so loud.” The Cardinal walked over to the cage and rested his hands on the bars, leaning his whole body on it. “His fear would have tasted so good.”

You spat in his face, hearing some of your spittle sizzle against the metal bars. The Cardinal sighed, and wiped it away before hitting the side of the cage.

“The next time you pull something like that, Angel,” he began, his voice loud and so enraged, “I will personally make sure your little pet dies in front of you, and I’ll make it slow and painful. Do you understand?”

When you didn’t answer, he hit the cage again. “Understand?”

“I understand.”

He stood up to his full height and straightened his hair, then began fiddling with his clothes. “I don’t like getting angry with you, Angel. But sometimes you leave me no choice.” He turned to walk away, but stopped at the door. “Oh, and angel?” He said, his voice soft and sweet like butter wouldn’t melt. He looked at you, mismatched eyes piercing into your soul. “Brother Hayward may be in a different country, but one word from me and all 6 litres of his blood gets delivered to my fridge, and his corpse will be buried beneath abbey soil. I’ll be back.”

The threat of his return felt even more sinister with the tone of voice he used, and for the first time since this whole ordeal started, you felt the sharp pang of fear that had the small amount of blood inside you run cold. Your safety didn’t matter. You were just you. But now Thomas’ life was in jeopardy and it was entirely your fault. Memories of Brother Thomas’ kind eyes and gentle words flooded your thoughts, each one a painful reminder of the danger he now faced because of you. Guilt gnawed at your insides like a ravenous beast, twisting and clawing at your conscience until it threatened to consume you whole. You had thought yourself strong, resilient in the face of the Cardinal’s torment. But now, faced with the consequences of your actions, you felt nothing but fear and despair creeping in, threatening to engulf you entirely.

As the Cardinal’s footsteps faded down the hallway, leaving behind an oppressive silence, you couldn’t shake the weight of his threats echoing in your mind. The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating, as if the walls themselves were closing in on you. For though you may be trapped in this gilded cage, your spirit remained unbroken. And as long as there was breath in your body, you would fight tooth and nail to protect those you held dear, no matter the cost.

Your own body continued to repair itself, slower than it usually would. The five days it took you to regain consciousness turned into twenty more of total healing time. The Cardinal kept a monitor of your levels based on how you smelled, which meant every day, his long, rodent nose would poke through the bars as he inhaled your scent, making sure his tavern was restocking perfectly well. He didn’t try and pry any information from you in that time, which you hated to admit that you were grateful for. But he had developed a habit of sitting and staring at you, taking joy in watching you squirm uncomfortably. He’d brought in a red, velvet armchair from the living space to do just that. Every evening, he’d waltz into his room with a glass of your blood, now tainted red from your essence, and sit and observe you, like an animal in a cage. You never said anything: always believing he wanted you to start a conversation, but you’d never let him win.

At first, the Cardinal’s constant scrutiny had been unbearable, like a stifling weight pressing down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. His presence had been a constant reminder of your captivity, of just how at his mercy you truly were. But as the days stretched into weeks and the Cardinal’s routine became an unsettling rhythm in your life, something shifted within you. You found yourself growing accustomed to his gaze, almost welcoming it in a twisted sort of way. Not that you enjoyed it, by any means. Just that a routine was being established and the Cardinal became the only constant in your life. The only entertainment, too. And so, instead of shrinking away from his viewing, you began to meet his eyes head-on, a silent challenge in your gaze. You refused to cower under his oppressive stare, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. You found yourself seeing him in return, studying the lines of his face, the way his eyes glinted with a predatory gleam. There was a darkness lurking behind those mismatched orbs, a darkness that chilled you to the bone. But even as you studied him, a sense of defiance burned within you. You refused to let the Cardinal break you, refused to let him strip away your dignity and humanity. You were more than just a prisoner in a cage; you were a warrior, a survivor, and you would not be defeated so easily. Heaven couldn’t get you, neither could he.

So, you met the Cardinal’s gaze with steely determination, a silent reminder that despite his best efforts, you would not be broken. And as you stared back at him, you couldn’t help but wonder what secrets lay hidden behind those calculating eyes, what darkness lurked within the depths of his soul.

The Cardinal’s entrance into the room that night was accompanied by an air of smugness so thick you could practically taste it. His smirk was evident as he sauntered in, a book tucked under one arm and a glass of your blood held casually in the other, a smile so wide, you could see his fangs underneath the skin. You watched him with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity, wondering what had put that self-satisfied gleam in his eyes. It was rare to see him so openly pleased with himself, and it set your nerves on edge.

As he approached your cage, he made no attempt to hide his triumphant grin, relishing in the power he held over you. He settled into the red velvet armchair with an air of satisfaction, taking a leisurely sip from the glass of blood as if it were the finest vintage wine, because, to him, it was. His eyes flicked over to you, and you met his gaze with a steely resolve, refusing to let him see any hint of fear or weakness. “So, Angel,” he began, his voice dripping with arrogance, but his words slurred slightly from the drink, “I’ve been doing some reading lately. Did you know there’s a whole chapter in this book dedicated to angels like you?”

Your stomach twisted uneasily at the implications of his words, but you kept your expression carefully neutral, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch.

“It seems there’s quite a lot I didn’t know about your kind,” he continued, his tone laced with malice. “But don’t worry, Angel. I plan on remedying that very soon.” With a chilling smile, he opened the book in his hands, his eyes gleaming with a dark intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “Do you know this book?”

You shook your head.

“It was written by Lorenzo Giovanni during the Renaissance, the last time an angel knowingly fell to Earth. A vampyre, like me. Spent most of his days studying the angel, finding out what makes you tick - turns out, he got pretty far. Unfortunately, his work was unfinished. A mob found out what he was and got to him in 1492, tied him up and let the Sun do all the work. But, do you know what he did find?” He didn’t wait for you to shake your head this time. He cleared his throat, and began to read aloud. As he began to read, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something far more sinister. “‘In celestial governance, once the manner is known, it is a simple matter. The heavenly messengers utilize the dread of the Almighty to manage their subordinates. However, those angels who have questioned the supremacy of the Lord are subject to the influences of their sacred radiance, the origin of which is their halo. Thus, one who attains an angel’s halo possesses the capability to command the entity, as well as the sacred radiance enveloping it.’ This we know, correct?”

You remained silent. So, the Cardinal continued, “‘This process assumes two guises: one to govern the physical form, the other to govern the intellect. To command the physical form, one must initially acquaint themselves with the name of the angel. As is observed with infernal entities, names possess a potency beyond human comprehension. Consequently, an angel bearing a name can readily relinquish control of their physical form merely by disclosing this fragment of information. Subduing the intellect, however, presents a greater challenge.’

“Basically,” he said, closing the book shut for dramatic affect, “I know your name, your body becomes mine.” He sighed, “Giovanni then goes onto say your mind is fully intact during this process, that you’ll feel your body moving but have no control over it.” He set his glass down on the dresser and walked towards your halo in its cage.

He grasped hold of it and you notice his hand was gloved, taking note of the care he was using to touch it. Your halo was just as dangerous to him as it was to you, but for different reasons. Without your halo, you were dead. Without your halo, you were controlled. For him, his skin would burn at the touch of it, like yours did with hellfire. For him, one wrong move and he would evaporate in the holy light. There was a part of you that wanted that to happen - wanted to see him perish in one of the most painful ways you had ever known. Yet there was an overpowering guilt that ate at you when you thought about it - knowing that the Almighty wanted you to love everyone, even at the detriment to yourself.

He took a step back and looked at you, smugness oozing from every pore. “I haven’t told Sister yet,” he mumbled, sitting back down on the chair. “I wanted to find out if it worked first. Tell me your name, Angel.”

“Thou must deem me a fool to willingly disclose such information.” You retorted, your voice barely above a whisper. Your mouth was dry.

He chuckled, a dark sound that shook you to your core. He nestled into the armchair, becoming comfortable in his throne of power. All of his movement was in his hips, lifting himself off the velvet to help him slide down it a little more, legs spread wide to exude his dominance. He was disgusting. “I thought you might say that,” he commented, his grin widening, “but you forget who I have.”

Thomas.

“You’ve experienced firsthand what I can do, Angel,” he continued, “except, I’ll make sure I’m much worse with him.”

“Thou would not.” You protested, trying to quell your panic. “The constabulary would be aware. Thou would be compelled to answer to the authorities.”

“I never said he’d survive.”

A chill ran down your spine. Your mind raced with fear and uncertainty as the Cardinal’s threat hung in the air like a dark cloud. Thomas was now in grave danger, and you were faced with an impossible choice. Would you sacrifice your own identity to save him, or would you stand firm and risk his life? You did know what the Cardinal could do - you’d been subjected to it since the moment you met him however long ago that was. You knew you could survive going through that again, especially if you had nothing to lose; but you couldn’t be sure about Thomas. He definitely didn’t deserve to feel the Cardinal’s wrath any more than he already may have. And could you live with yourself knowing you’d condemned a man to death just to save yourself, even if he did belong to the Satanic Church? By robbing him of his life, he’d never get the chance to return to God, to see the light and repent. You’d never get the chance to meet him again in Heaven. You’d rob him of his salvation, but you’d save yourself from the Cardinal’s damnation. Either way, you lost.

“If I divulge,” you began, puffing your chest to sound more confident and unafraid, “can thou ensure his well-being?”

The smugness faded from the Cardinal, if only for a moment. “Of course.” He responded, genuinely. “How else would I get you to do things I wanted?” He let the second sentence slip out, but paid it no mind once it had been released. He planned on using Thomas’ safety to continue to control you. You never should have let yourself get close to him - it allowed the Cardinal to win.

“And wilt thou demonstrate that he is unharmed? Wilt thou prove that thou speakest truthfully unto me?”

“I’ll get him to video chat you every week.”

You frowned, “I comprehend naught of thy words.”

“Video chat? FaceTime? Angels have no technology up there at all?” The Cardinal sighed at your blank expression and rummaged in his pocket to pull out the device you first saw him use. “This thing lets you have conversations with people that aren’t there with you. It shows you their face and hear their voice and, boom, conversation.”

“And thou wilt employ that contrivance to contact Tho- Brother Hayward?”

“Yes.”

You sighed. “___.”

“What?”

“My name. It is ___.”

“___.” The Cardinal nodded and set down the device next to his glass. He stood and unlocked your cage, before returning to his spot on the couch. He gently maneuvered your halo into the palm of his right hand, and brought it up to his mouth. “___, I command you to exit the cage.”

You laughed. You laughed at him. He lacked conviction which was why it failed, and it was so funny to watch him fumble. He cleared his throat, and now, with more confidence, repeated his order. Your body tingled in response, and despite you fighting it with great strength, your legs moved of their own accord. Your bare foot stepped out of the cage and onto the floor, barely feeling the textures beneath your feet. Your body ducked around the metal, wings tucked tightly to your body to stop any part of you from getting injured. Even under control, your body still did what it could to preserve itself. This was a new sensation to you, as you’d never been under someone else’s control before - you’d never needed to be because you were always a good soldier, even when you had your doubts. You’d never known anyone be subjected to this, either. Within seconds, you were out of the cage, standing in front of it with your wings outstretched. He hadn’t ordered you to stay still, to wait for the next instruction. But you did anyway, fearing that defiance would bring a painful end to Brother Thomas.

“___, I command you to spin on the spot.” The Cardinal ordered, a mischievous smile on his face and a glint in his eye.

When you did as he commanded, he laughed. It was a guttural laugh, hearty and jovial, clearly he was having fun with this. “Like a game of Capitan Giro. Capitan Giro dice stand on one leg.”

You did as commanded, and the Cardinal screamed in delight.

“Wait, I don’t need your name? I don’t need to be so formal? What if… put both feet to the floor.”

You did as commanded.

“Incredible. I wonder what else I could get you to do. How else I could humiliate you…” He stopped and thought for a moment, eyes darkening. “Come here.” This command was lower and deeper than the previous ones, quieter and somehow more intimate.

You fought against this command, but to no avail. Your feet, slowly, dragged you towards the Cardinal and only stopping when you were right in front of him, between his open legs. “On your knees.”

You obeyed. The whole time you made eye contact with him, staring daggers into his face and still hoping that the halo hurt him.

He held out his left hand, the one not holding the halo, and said, “Remove the glove.”

Your hands immediately sprung into action, grasping onto the hem of the leather and peeling it gently off of his hand, exposing the skin beneath.

“You know,” he grumbled as you pulled the final finger of his glove off him, “the Sister told me about you.”

He moved his hand to your face and tried to caress your cheek, but you moved away. “Come back, don’t fight me.” Slowly, you moved back to your original position, feeling your cheek meet his fingertips. His hand was large, taking up most of your face as he stroked it with such gentility, you weren’t entirely sure that this was the same man who had caused you great pain for so long. His thumb sat beside your nose, and gently stroked your skin.

“She told me about your purity,” he continued. “How you’re still the good angel Yhwh intended.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Open your mouth.”

You did. You opened it a small amount, but it was enough for him. He slotted his thumb inside and rubbed the pad over your tongue, as if he was studying your mouth. His knuckle, briefly, hit the tip of your small fangs - not enough to hurt him, but enough to have him fascinated by them.

“Suck on my finger.”

Your mouth closed around the digit in your mouth, lips stretching just a little over his skin, and you heard the Cardinal exhale a shaky breath. He watched the obscenity in front of him, how your cheeks hollowed around his thumb that he slowly began to move in and out of your mouth. His cheeks were flushed, partially because of your blood, but also because his own was rushing around his body, still pumping life into it despite his insides being almost dead. His pupils were blown, and his eyes were hooded, making him look a little crazy. His lips parted, and his breaths were laboured, chest rising and falling as though his lungs still worked - a force of habit, you thought.

You didn’t understand this - what he was doing. You’d never seen anyone do this before, but your mind was racing with possibilities. Perhaps he was testing your mouth, making sure your health was good. Or maybe it was some strange form of comfort for him, you pondered. Perhaps he found solace in this bizarre act, a fleeting moment of intimacy amidst the chaos of his life. As his thumb moved in and out of your mouth, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease mingled with curiosity.

You should bite down.

You couldn’t. Not that you weren’t trying, but you were under the influence of the halo. You just couldn’t get your teeth to clench around his thumb.

Despite your confusion, you continued to suck on his finger obediently, just as the Cardinal had ordered. You focused on the rhythm of his movements, trying to make sense of the strange sensation in your mouth.

“Cazzo.” He let out a whisper, barely audible but because of the quiet of the room, the humming of technology barely covered the sound.

As time passed, it couldn’t have been more than a minute, you couldn’t shake the feeling of discomfort that gnawed at you. Yet, you dared not speak up, afraid to disrupt the fragile peace that enveloped the room. So you remained silent, your mind still racing with unanswered questions, as you obediently continued to suck on his finger.

Suddenly, the Cardinal’s eyes widened, a look of shock appearing on his face. He yanked his thumb from your mouth and physically pushed you away, grasping onto the halo a little tighter than he should have. “B-back in the cage.” He said quickly, standing up and walking over to your halo’s cage.

He didn’t need to use the halo to order you back behind bars, you were already scrambling to your feet and rushing to fit yourself in through the bars. He refused to make eye contact with you, noticing that he was feeling shame. Shame for what, you couldn’t say, but he spent most of the time staring at the floor as he locked you back inside. Your eyes wandered, too. From his face, over his body, until you saw the tent in his crotch every time he stood side-on. You weren’t completely foolish, you knew what that meant. You’d spent enough time with mortals, and saw a varying degree of sin that they would commit regularly. But you still couldn’t piece together the correlation between his finger in your mouth and the reason for his body’s reaction. He didn’t say a word, instead grabbing the glass and all but running out the door.

Perhaps you were feeling some of his shame now that you knew he’d used you to sin. He’d sinned with you before, every single time he caused you pain was sin enough, but this felt different somehow. Before, it was all the sins that were done to you; because of your implicitness due to the halo’s control, it felt like he was sinning with you. Shame, anger, and a deep sense of discomfort gnawed at your insides, making you feel vulnerable and exposed.

You had been subjected to a degrading and humiliating act, one that left you feeling powerless and violated. The Cardinal’s actions had stripped away your dignity and autonomy, reducing you to nothing more than a mere object for his pleasures.

Anger simmered within you, fueled by the injustice of being treated in such a deplorable manner. You resented the Cardinal for his blatant disregard for your dignity and for his abuse of power. How dare he manipulate and exploit you for his own perverse desires?

The deep sense of discomfort stemmed from the violation of your boundaries and the invasion of your personal space. His unwelcome advances had left you feeling exposed and vulnerable, as if your very essence had been laid bare for his scrutiny.

But then, the feeling dawned on you, was this not a similar way the Almighty had treated you? How He would get His subordinates to send you down to the mortal realm and commit atrocities on His behalf. In Egypt and Canaan, and even the shores of Italia, in His name you enacted awful things, bore witness to tragedies no person should ever see. While the Cardinal used you for some kind of sexual gratification, the Almighty used you for egotistical gratification, and either way, you were a pawn in someone else’s game, an object to be used at will regardless of your own opinions. You could never condone or justify the Cardinal’s behaviour towards you, but you’d also never had autonomy over your own person, so was it any different?

In some weird twist, you had come to realise that despite being trapped in a cage, your mind was freer than it ever had been in Heaven, your thoughts were your own, and your feelings went more-or-less unpunished. And in comparison, who was truly the Devil? Lucifer, or the Almighty?

The Cardinal didn’t come to visit you the next day, or the day after that, or the subsequent week that followed. He wouldn’t even come back to his chambers to rest, opting to spend his time elsewhere and avoiding you - an easy task, you were sure, given that he had kept you in the cage the whole time. You were unsure how to feel about this, whether this was something you should be grateful for, or if you should be afraid.

The longer you were around the vampyres, the more you’d begun to understand them and their ways; their thoughts and feelings, and what made them tick. Given that you’d not seen the Sister in so long, you could assume that the Cardinal hadn’t told her about his discovery. If he had, she’d have charged into his chambers, gripped hold of your halo, and practiced on you herself. Her insatiable thirst for power and control outweighed her thirst for your blood, and thus, if she knew your secret, you’d know too.

But then, why had the Cardinal kept that secret? Both he and the Sister wanted power, specifically power over you. They had been working together from the start to make sure they got what they wanted, your health and safety be damned. So why hadn’t the Cardinal told her everything? You pondered these questions in the silence of your cage, the only company being the dim glow of your halo, a sense of unease washing over you in more ways than one.

By the time you had healed completely, the Cardinal had returned with the empty bottles, but still found it difficult to look you in the eye. His gaze flickered with a mixture of guilt and apprehension, a silent acknowledgment of the unspeakable acts he had committed in his pursuit of power… or pleasure?

You watched him closely, noting the tension in his movements and the weariness etched into his features. Despite the disguise of indifference he attempted to show, you could sense the conflict raging within him, a storm of inconsistent emotions that threatened to consume him whole. He’d not rested well enough - you wondered if he’d even eaten properly. Then you wondered why you cared.

As he went about his task of arranging empty buckets around his bed, you remained silent, studying his every move with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. Why buckets, this time? There was an obvious shift in the air, a tension that hung between you, heavily shrouding you both an an intense suffocation.

With each passing moment, the weight of his silence grew heavier, a burden that bore down upon you with unbearable force. You longed to break the oppressive stillness, to confront him with the questions that burned in the depths of your soul, but you held your tongue, wary of the consequences of speaking out.

In the end, it was the Cardinal who broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper as he addressed you. “I won’t bind you when I let you out… I’m trusting you to be on your best behaviour.”

You simply nodded in response.

“No funny business, no trying to escape… no attacking, got it?”

“I shall not undertake such actions today,” you told him, “yet I offer no assurances for the morrow.”

He laughed as though you were telling him a joke. His laughter echoed through the chamber, a hollow sound that reverberated off the walls. Despite the tension that lingered between you, there was a sense of relief in his amusement, a fleeting moment of levity amidst the heavy atmosphere that surrounded you. “Well, I suppose that’s better than nothing,” he replied, his tone lightening slightly. “Just remember, Angel, I’m not afraid to put you back in that cage if you step out of line.”

You met his gaze with a steady stare, your eyes alight with a quiet defiance. “I understand,” you said, your voice firm and unwavering. “But mark this, Cardinal - I shall not be imprisoned anew, not without resistance.”

There was a flicker of something in his eyes, a spark of recognition that mirrored the fire that burned within your own soul. In that moment, you saw a glimmer of respect in his gaze, a grudging acknowledgment of your strength and determination.

“Very well,” he said, his voice tinged with resignation. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

He moved towards your cage, unlocked and opened the door, and took a step back, still holding it as though he were a gentleman holding the door for his wife. With apprehension, you climbed out, wings cocooning your body again until you were completely free of the metal. You chanced a glance at your halo, which was still locked up tight in the cage, and somehow you felt relieved. You stretched your entire body out, wings included, grateful for the feeling. All the while, you still watched the Cardinal potter around the room until he invited you onto his bed again.

You hesitated until you saw the plea in his eyes. “What dost thou withhold from me, Cardinal?”

He shook his head, “If you don’t let me drain you now, things will end up worse for us both. Just do as I ask this one time, please.”

You regarded him with a mix of wariness and resignation, knowing that you had little choice but to comply with his request. With a heavy sigh, you moved towards the bed, your movements slow and deliberate as you approached him.

As you settled onto the plush mattress, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled over you like a heavy cloak. The Cardinal’s intentions were clear, his desire for your blood palpable in the air, and yet you found yourself unable to resist his command. You felt the first needle prick into the crook of your arm, and watched as your blood began to pour into the bucket. Then you saw him prick the second needle in, and the cycle repeat. Usually, the Cardinal would stand back and watch menacingly. But this time, he gently crawled onto the bed, lifted you up, and slotted you on top of him, so you were using his body as a pillow instead.

As the Cardinal cradled you in his arms, using his body as a makeshift pillow, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of discomfort wash over you. The intimacy of the gesture was unsettling, a stark contrast to the usual brutality of your interactions with him.

With each drop of blood that left your body, you felt a sense of vulnerability creep in, the realization dawning on you that you were completely at his mercy. Despite your instinctive urge to resist, you found yourself unable to muster the strength to pull away, trapped in a state of submission that left you feeling powerless and exposed.

You passed out, despite your body fighting it.

You were barely conscious when you woke, the needles still in your arms and the Cardinal still behind you. This time, you could feel his hands running up and down your biceps and stroking your hair, as if he was trying to comfort you. You wanted to recoil from his touch, to push him away and reclaim the boundaries he had violated so mercilessly more than once. And yet, a part of you couldn’t help but crave the warmth of his embrace, the fleeting sense of connection that offered a brief respite from the cold reality of your captivity.

Your body lost consciousness again, the last thing you felt were his fingertips tracing light patterns into your skin.

You roused from your uneasy slumber, disoriented and groggy, the memory of the Cardinal’s touch haunting your exposed flesh. As your senses slowly returned, you realized that the needles were no longer piercing your skin, their absence bringing a faint sense of relief amidst the lingering discomfort.

You looked around the room, heart heavy, seeking any sign of the Cardinal’s whereabouts, but all you saw was the empty space of his bed and the stifling silence that enveloped the room like a blanket. Feelings of fear and panic started to seethe at the borders of your mind as you struggled with the disconcerting realisation that you were alone in the room, and not trapped up in your cage where you’d normally be after such an extraction.

You strained to get yourself upright, your muscles protesting with each movement as you forced yourself to look around more closely. However, no matter how hard you looked, there was no sign of the Cardinal, no clue of where he had gone or what he was plotting next.

The sound of voices coming from the living room sent shivers down your spine, breaking the strange calm that had encased the Cardinal’s quarters. You strained your ears, nervously attempting to figure out who was talking and who was there.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you listened closely, the murmur of voices becoming louder and clearer with each passing instant. Their tones conveyed a sense of urgency, a palpable tension that appeared to linger in the air like a building storm.

For a tiny moment, you cherished the hope that Brother Thomas would return to liberate you from your captivity and deliver you from the Cardinal’s tyranny. But deep down, you understood that such dreams were nothing more than desperate illusions created out of your own sorrow.

One of the voices belonged to the Cardinal… the other… the Sister.

You strained to catch every word of the furious discussion between the Sister and the Cardinal, their voices rising and falling in a chaotic symphony of wrath and frustration. From your position in the bedroom, you could feel the tension crackling in the air like electricity, heavy and stifling.

The words they exchanged formed a bleak picture, indicating a flaw in their carefully crafted relationship. It became clear that the Cardinal had acted with purposeful intent by draining you of your blood before the full moon night, undermining their plans to perform the second ritual.

Confusion blurred your mind as you tried to make sense of the Cardinal’s strange choice to sabotage the ceremony. It didn’t make sense; why would he go to such extent to foil plans that he had personally set up? You felt lost and confused, as if the puzzle pieces would not fit together in your brain.

You couldn’t shake the notion that the Cardinal’s acts were more than just what they appeared to be. His intentions remained a mystery, and you couldn’t help but wonder what underlying agenda drove his betrayal. Was he behaving in his own self-interest, or was he motivated by something else that you couldn’t figure out? Or was there a deeper, more nefarious motive at work?

Prev. / Next

Anon commissioned artwork by @taylaedraws - I believe the full version is on their Patreon! Please be sure to check it out when you can!

[her-satanic-wiles]

Dawn Chorus - II

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 6k.

Reading Time: 24 min.

Warnings: blood drinking, blood syphoning/collecting, body horror,caging a living being, feelings of abandonment, graphic injuries, near-death experiences,needles, suggestion of sexual assault (but nothing happens), torture, violence

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @antoniamarie1989

🔞 MDNI 🔞

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

Whenever the door was closed, the room was so dark you could barely see a thing. With the exception of your halo in the corner, there were no lights, no sounds, nothing to see or do save feel the tingling of hellfire beneath your skin, seeping through your white robe like water and soaking the very fibre of your being. You were sure that your wrists were red raw by the metal that had strapped you to the crucifix, but you only knew this because of the pain you felt from them. Time was irrelevant in this room, and you were unsure of how much of it had passed until the door would open and the Sister and Cardinal would walk in.

They’d never formally introduced themselves to you, as was usually customary of the mortals two-thousand years ago. But they always referred to each other as those titles, bastardising the roles of the Almighty’s most sacred for their own personal enjoyment. Imagine that, a vampyre parading as a cardinal, in the uniform and everything, fangs bore proudly as he cited unholy scriptures and said the Infernal One’s name as though it were a blessing. You weren’t sure which was worse: the followers of Satan parading around in sacred clothes and playing games with the Devil, or the sacred committing the sins of the Devil on hallowed ground. Either way, your stomach churned at the thought of it.

You’d lost count of how many times your faith had wavered and been restored and wavered again, repeating the process in the darkness of the basement, growing madder and madder with each hour that passed. Sometimes you wondered if this was all a test, His way of making you come to your senses and believe in Him again. The rest of the time, you were convinced that this was a punishment - that for the first time since eternity began, He personally liasoned with the Devil and gifted you to his followers to atone for your sins, and punish you for your crimes. Your resilience never faltered, though; either as a credit to your bravery, or your foolishness. Perhaps there was a part of you deep down that was convinced you’d be rescued and rewarded for your silence. You would never give them what they wanted, no matter what they put you through.

Every day, they’d both unleash a fresh version of Hell onto you, finding new ways to bring pain to your physical body as though they were experimenting because, as you’d come to learn in the many hours of being trapped down there, they were experimenting. In all the years they’d been alive, never once had they got hold of an angel - not until you came crashing down into their yard like a gift from the universe. They’d read books, referenced them, even brought them down to practice on you to see which things would work. They’d stand there, arguing with each other about which methods were best and why the other one was wrong.

“We should freeze her wings,” the Sister suggested, eyes fixed on the book in her hands, “it’ll be easier to chip them off if we need some cash.”

“Be real,” the Cardinal scoffed, “how are we gonna bring an entire ice machine down here to freeze her wings? This part of the Ministry doesn’t even have any electricity… and they’re huge.”

The Sister, still fixated on her book, muttered with determination, “Then we’ll find another way. We can use cold water or dry ice. We need that information, and if chipping off her wings is the only way to get it, then so be it.”

The Cardinal sighed, clearly exasperated by the older woman, “They’re made of feathers, Sister.” He walked over to you and plucked another feather from your wing. At this point, you were almost used to the sensation, and barely flinched. “They probably won’t freeze.”

The Sister, undeterred by the Cardinal’s scepticism, retorted with a hint of frustration, “Then we’ll find something else to break her spirit. We can’t let her keep withholding information from us.”

The information they wanted from you today was how to use your own halo against you, as if you’d offer up that information at all.

“And that’s why I suggested we get creative about where we burn the hellfire,” the Cardinal responded.

The Sister’s eyes gleamed with a dark intensity as she considered the Cardinal’s suggestion. “Yes, creative indeed,” she replied, her voice low and calculating. “Perhaps we start with the tips of her wings. It may not freeze them, but it will surely send a message.”

“Nah. Did you see the way she didn’t flinch? Her wings are pretty much desensitised at this point.”

The Sister’s expression hardened, her determination unyielding. “Then we’ll find another way to make her talk,” she declared, her tone resolute. “There must be something that will break through her defences. She’s gonna have to crack at some point.” She looked at you and closed the book, her hand reaching out to your hair and grasping the strands. “What makes you tick, Angel?”

“I shall not divulge aught unto thee. Thou might as well relent and set me free.” You hissed, your tone oozing with hatred. Another sin to add to your growing collection.

The Sister still looked at you, but addressed the Cardinal as she spoke, “Do we still have those pokers? The ones with His sigil on them?”

“Somewhere,” the Cardinal replied, nonplussedly.

“Get them.”

“But they’re all the way-”

“Get them.” The Sister’s tone was vile, filled with disdain and anger. “And bring some hellfire while you’re up there.” She let go of your hair and took a small step back.

The Cardinal rolled his eyes like a petulant child and left the room, only to return moments later. “A ghoul will get them.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Mine.”

The Sister nodded, never taking her eyes off you. Suddenly, a dark flicker passed through them. “The feral one?”

The Cardinal nodded, “Why?”

“Maybe we should leave him alone with our guest. The feral one has a lot of Lord Asmodeus in him, maybe he’d be useful.”

The Cardinal shook his head. “No, he’s too unpredictable. He wouldn’t ravage her in the way we’d like, he’d devour her.”

Your heart rate picked up, “What dost thou mean by this?”

The Sister smiled, an unsettling grin that sent cold shivers down your spine. “Oh, Angel. This demon is truly feral, trained by the Dark Lord Asmodeus himself.” She reached her hand up to stroke your cheek. “He takes great pleasure in the fear and pain of others. A visit from him would ensure your purity is shattered.”

In her gloating, she didn’t realise she’d allowed her hand to wander too close to your mouth. The second you were able, you leaned into her touch and sank your teeth into her flesh, hearing her scream echoing off the walls of the chamber. She managed to tear herself away from you, and clutched her aching hand in her other one. You caught a look at the wound and silently thanked yourself for not drawing blood, concerned about what would happen to you if you ingested the blood of a vampyre. In no time at all, the Sister’s uninjured hand (now clenched into a fist) charged at you and struck your cheek, causing your head to spin to face the other side of the room, where the Cardinal was watching the exchange with a grin on his lips.

“You bitch!” the Sister exclaimed, going back to nursing her injured hand.

The Cardinal sprang forward towards you and lifted your lips, inspecting your teeth. “Sister, she’s got fangs, too!” He shouted, almost excitedly. “Tiny little fangs. Kitten fangs. Adorable.”

“Yeah, I just found that out, you idiot! You’re welcome.” The Sister punctuated her sentence with a whisper. A small sound of pain like a wounded animal.

The Cardinal remained smiling, clearly enjoying this, “That wasn’t very kind of you, Angel.” He placed the heel of his palm on your chin and lifted your head to expose your neck. “You’re not the only fanged creature in this room who can bite, though.”

You felt his breath on your neck, and then you felt it: a sharp, searing pain as the Cardinal’s fangs sank into your neck, piercing your flesh with a vicious intent. The taste of your blood filled his mouth, warm and metallic, as he greedily drank from your veins. Each gulp sent a shiver down your spine, a mixture of agony and horror washing over you as you realised the depths of depravity to which they had sunk. Helpless and powerless, you could only endure the torment inflicted upon you, your body growing weaker with each passing moment.

Your initial struggles against the Cardinal’s assault were futile, as the bonds that held you captive rendered your movements feeble and ineffectual. Despite your desperate attempts to resist, the restraints held you firmly in place, leaving you utterly vulnerable to his predatory advance. Each tug against the chains only served to tighten their grip, further entangling you in a web of helplessness and despair. Forced to endure the violation against your will, you could do nothing but endure the agonizing ordeal, your cries drowned out by the darkness that enveloped you.

The Cardinal pulled back, the sound of his lips smacking together in your ear as he delighted in the taste of your blood. “Sister, I think it’s time for some payback. You’ve gotta try this.” He suggested, before diving back in for another bite.

The Sister’s presence loomed over you, a sinister shadow in the dimly lit chamber. With a chilling calmness, she approached, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. Without a word, she positioned herself beside the Cardinal, mirroring his predatory stance. In unison, they descended upon you, their fangs sinking into your flesh with a savage hunger. The sensation was unbearable, a symphony of pain and violation echoing through your senses. As they drank deeply from your veins, their insatiable thirst seemed to know no bounds, consuming you with a relentless fervour.

You could feel your strength ebbing away, your consciousness fading into darkness as they continued their merciless assault. Each bite felt like a cruel mockery of your suffering, a reminder of your powerlessness in the face of their depravity. Their little grunts of delight at your evident deliciousness echoing as your eyes began to close, giggles coming from their throats as though they were somewhat inebriated. Those giggles were the last thing you heard when your consciousness slipped away entirely, and you were plunged into a darkness worse than the one they’d left you in.

When you woke up, you were in complete darkness. Your neck throbbed in agony in the two places they were the last time you saw them, and you remembered what they did to you. You still felt groggy, like you hadn’t completely rested. Your arms were stinging from where you fought against the vampyres, your wings felt dead where they’d been hanging for so long without movement. You tried to flap them just to stretch them out, but your body just wouldn’t respond. You felt your eyes grow heavier again, and soon you were slipping off into the abyss a second time.

You woke up again and some time had passed, and this time you felt more refreshed. Your bones still ached and your wings still felt dead, but your whole body had healed. You were sure if you looked in a mirror, the bite marks would be gone, and all of the feathers they pulled would have grown back. Your halo had worked quickly from the corner of the room to bring you back to full health, and you intended to use that to your advantage as much as you could. You started squirming in your binds, fighting against the metal chains to free yourself from them. You kicked your feet trying to free your ankles, too. But your feet were well and truly tied. One of the chains however, the right one, allowed you with just enough wiggle room to scoot your hand halfway out, being trapped in the palm. Your skin burned anew under the hellfire forged material, but time was of the essence and your health and strength would only deteriorate again and leave you trapped there for who knew how long. And so, you pulled, and you pulled, and you pulled.

Suddenly, with a loud clanging of the chain against the metal crucifix, your right hand pulled free. You still could only see the areas where the light from your halo was shining, but that was one hand that you’d managed to save. You reached across your body, as difficult as it was to do, in an attempt to free the second hand. You fiddled with the chain, pulling both your hand and pushing the chain as much as you could, wiggling it when it wouldn’t give, until your second hand was free. You rubbed your raw wrists with you palms, trying to soothe the ache as much as you could without ointment or your halo doing all of the work for you - an instinctual movement that helped nothing except your peace of mind. Your skin did feel incredibly warm from the irritation, almost like an allergic reaction you’d seen in mortals over the years you’d spent with them.

Your ankles were the next to attempt freedom, but they were tied the tightest. The position that you were in meant it was difficult to try and pull the chain off and apart without falling off the raised structure and doing some serious damage to your body.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you carefully manoeuvred your body, inching further down until you resembled a frog, and gripped on tightly to the chain that strapped you down. With your free hand, you reached down, feeling along the cold metal links for any signs of weakness or opportunity. Gritting your teeth against the pain, you began to tug and twist at the chain, using all your strength to pry it apart. Each movement sent a jolt of agony through your body, but you pushed through, determined to break free from your bonds. As you worked, beads of sweat formed on your brow, mingling with the burning sensation of your irritated skin. With each passing moment, your efforts grew more frantic, your desperation driving you onwards despite the odds stacked against you. And then, finally, after what felt like an eternity of struggle, you felt a faint give in the chain. With a surge of adrenaline, you redoubled your efforts, pulling with all your might until, with a resounding clang, the chain loosened enough for you to slide your ankles out. But victory was still far from your grasp.

With your sharp sense of hearing returned thanks to your full bill of health, you could hear people descending the stairs just outside your room. You had to think, and do so quickly. It sounded like five people, and you were without your halo with a weakened holy light. There was nothing you could do that wouldn’t end in disaster for you - you couldn’t fight them off and make a run for it. You remembered the Cardinal dragging you into the building when you first landed, and you saw just how big it was. Of course there would be hundreds of mortals here keeping it clean and working. If you miraculously managed to escape the basement, how many more mortals would you face? How many more of the Almighty’s creations would you send to His enemy? With a deftness and a speed, the likes of which you’d never seen in yourself before, you worked to put yourself back into the chains as much as you could so as not to arouse suspicion. The time to escape would come soon, but it wouldn’t be now.

You quickly tucked your ankles back where they were, making sure that the chain was loose enough in the future for you to attempt a second escape.

The sound of keys clanking outside drew your attention to the door. Someone had put a key in the lock.

You quickly put your left hand back in the chain.

The door unlocked, and the handle jiggled.

You fought with the chain and your right hand, trying to tuck it in as the door began to open.

“Ah,” the Sister said when she looked at you, giving your body a once over, “look who’s finally decided to join the land of the living again.”

You’d done it. You’d sighed out your relief. “Art thou here to imbibe more of my life’s essence, vampyre?”

“I’ve had my fill, thank you. Very delicious, though. I’ve not drunk anything like that since my youth. ghouls?” As you watched the Sister pick up your halo, the ‘ghouls’ that were mentioned before came trudging into the room. There were four of them in total, and they’d clearly been briefed before they entered the room as they began to work quickly. Two went to the chains on your wrists and two went to work on the chains around your ankles, loosening them and freeing you. As soon as the chains were off, though, they wrapped their hands around your body to stop you from running.

For the first time in a long time, your bare feet touched the ground, the cold, stone floors freezing your soles to the point where it felt painful. The floor was damp, too. It was only then, in the light of the hallway, you were able to see that the floor had been haphazardly cleaned, and the red coating was your blood from when the vampyres had feasted on you before. Someone had tried to clear it up, but had missed several spots.

The Sister was the first to exit the room, carrying your halo tightly in her grasp. The ghouls were practically carrying you out of the room and up the stairs, away from the torture chamber that you’d currently resided in. You felt nerves wash over you, dread pooling in your stomach at the unknown. “Whither dost thou convey me?” You asked, trying your best to sound assertive but hearing your voice crack towards the end.

“To your new accommodations, my liege,” the Sister said, her voice in a mocking tone.

“If thou permit me to depart now, I shall not cause thee any distress. Simply restore unto me my halo, allow my departure, and thou shalt never encounter me again.”

The Sister stopped on the staircase, in turn forcing her ghouls to do the same thing. “Let you leave?” she asked. She ran her fingertips over the side of your neck where she bit you. “And why would I do that?”

“Perchance there lies some goodness within thee, after all.”

She laughed. “In me? How stupid of you. You do realise where you are, don’t you?”

“This be the domain of the Devil, and thou art a disciple of his.”

“Smart angel.” She tapped your cheek twice, patronising a being far older than here because she could. She turned and continued to walk up the stairs, allowing the ghouls to drag you after her. “You’ll find no goodness in me, Angel. I can promise you that.”

The staircase you were travelling on gradually became grander and grander the higher up you went. They were in a spiral shape, and gradually faded from uneven stone steps, to smooth, white marble. Eventually, you were pulled through a door and into a flat corridor.

The walls in this corridor were smaller than the walls of the basement hallway, and were so pristine, they acted as a perfect reflection for anyone who passed them. The walls and floors were made of the same white marble as before, except this time, there was a pattern on the ground. Black marble outlined the floor, creating a separation between the walls and the ground, and there were black diamond tiles placed strategically in certain areas to provide some visual break up between different sections. At the very end of the corridor was a window, made entirely from painted glass. This painting was in the shape of a rose, surrounded by flowers of other colours - those colours ended up running along the ceiling’s windows, giving the room a colourful glow, or rather, it would if the sun were shining. This was not at all something you’d expect to see in the House of Satan. And, given the cleanliness of the walls and floors, the colours of the windows reflected perfectly on the marble, making the hallway feel brighter.

You all continued on the journey, going down more and more hallways that looked vaguely similar to the first, except this time it was on the second floor. You could hear the ghouls panting in your ears as they were exhausted from carrying you all the way up from the basement, and up multiple storeys before they were able to fully let you go.

The Sister walked into a room with an open door and disappeared inside of it, waiting for you and the ghouls to enter after her.

This room was almost entirely in stark contrast to the hallways you’d just been dragged down. It was a living space, designed with dark trappings and wooden furnishings to make the rich colours pop. At the centre of the room stood a grand fireplace, its ornate mantelpiece carved with intricate patterns of gargoyles and grotesque figures. Above, a massive mirror stretched from mantle to ceiling, its antique frame gleaming in the flickering light of the fire. Furniture crafted from dark, polished wood filled the space, their intricate carvings adding to the room’s dark allure. A velvet sofa, upholstered in deep shades of burgundy and black, beckoned you to sink into its plush cushions and lose yourself in reverie.

In one corner, a towering bookcase stretched from floor to ceiling, its shelves lined with leather-bound tomes and ancient manuscripts. A brass candelabra stood sentinel atop the highest shelf, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. Against another wall, a grand piano stood, its ebony keys gleaming in the dim light. A few steps away, a small writing desk nestled in a pool of shadows, its surface adorned with pens, notebooks, and papers.

The walls were adorned with rich, velvet tapestries, depicting scenes of medieval knights and mythical creatures in intricate detail. Heavy, brooding drapes hung from tall windows, and remained closed to keep the sunlight at bay.

“Where doth our current location lie?” you asked, eyes scanning the entire room.

“Copia’s quarters,” the Sister responded matter-of-factly, “the Cardinal’s, I mean.”

You furrowed your brow and looked at the Sister, almost forgetting the feel of the ghouls hands on your arms. “Copia?” You tasted your captor’s name on your tongue, and it tasted strange. “Is that the appellation of the male vampyre?”

The Sister rolled her eyes. “Not just a pretty face, are you? Yes, that’s his name. Copia. And he would have shown you here himself but he’s busy.”

“Am I destined to dwell herein?”

“Until we decide to kill you - this way.”

She moved to the left door and walked through it, holding it open for the ghouls to drag you through.

As you entered the bedroom, an atmosphere of haunting elegance enveloped you, transporting you to another era. The walls were draped in heavy, brooding tapestries, adorned with intricate patterns of pointed arches and twisting vines that seemed to writhe in the flickering candlelight. The curtains of the windows inside this room were closed just as the others were.

At the heart of the room stood a grand four-poster bed, its towering canopy shrouded in layers of dark velvet that cascaded to the floor in a tumble of luxurious folds. The bed itself was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, with intricately carved wooden panels depicting scenes of dark romance and mythical creatures.

Beside the bed, two cages captured your attention. The first, a small birdcage, stood delicately adorned with ornate scrollwork and delicate brass accents. Within, a single black, velvet pillow sat at the floor, not at all big enough to humanely fit a bird inside, but as the Sister moved towards it, you realised it wasn’t meant for a bird at all, not as she rested your halo inside of it. The Sister left it there, and closed the door, locking it and pocketing the key. She turned to you with a smug expression on her face. “This cage was forged in the pits of Hell themselves,” she told you, “it was designed specifically for a halo, and to keep a halo away from creatures like you. You can try to get in there as much as you like, but you’ll be burned so badly, you’ll scream for death.”

You stared at her, disbelief evident on your face, “For what reason hast thou brought me hither?”

“This is your new home. The door will be locked with a key only me and the Cardinal have. All of the windows are made from a similar forging as the cage, meaning you can’t escape out of them either. And, just to top it all off, the room itself is encased in Hell-forged metal. Do you feel your powers weakening already?” You did, but you didn’t want to tell her that. “We’re still going to get the information we need out of you one way or another, little angel.”

“But wherefore wouldst thou provide me with a chamber such as this? Wherefore not keep me bound below in the cellar?”

The Sister sighed, clearly exasperated by your questions. “Something, something, free range chicken. Apparently food tastes better when it’s less stressed.” She looked at her watch. “Unless you’d rather stay down there?”

“Is that to be mine?” You asked, pointing at the cage beside the birdcage.

Its golden bars gleaming in the dim light. Unlike its avian counterpart, this cage exuded an air of opulence and grandeur, its detailed design hinting at a darker purpose. Fashioned from gleaming gold-plated metal, the cage radiated a luminous glow that bathed the room in a soft, golden light. Its imposing frame rose majestically from the floor, reaching towards the ceiling with a graceful elegance that belied its inherent captivity. Decorating the cage were precociously woven into patterns of delicate vines, twisted filigree, and pointed arches that seemed to dance and intertwine with one another, representing just how trapped you were going to feel. The bars of the cage were thick and sturdy, yet delicately wrought, forming a lattice of gleaming metal that enclosed the space within. Each bar was meticulously carved with ornate details, from intricate floral motifs to intricate patterns of leaves and tendrils that seemed to sway with an unseen breeze.

At the top of the cage, a domed roof rose in a graceful curve, its surface adorned with shimmering crystals and polished gemstones that caught the light and cast dazzling reflections across the room. It was tall enough for you to stand in, and wide enough for you to sit in, but it didn’t span the height of the room like you would have hoped if this was to be yours. You couldn’t help but feel a shiver run down your spine as you gazed upon it, the contrast between the delicate birdcage and the imposing golden cage adding to the room’s eerie ambiance.

“Right again,” Imperator said, opening the door to the cage and expecting you to walk in, “in you get, little birdie.”

“I am thankful for the offer, but I believe I would prefer the cellar.” You struggled to try and get out of the ghoul’s grasp, but they held on far too tightly, there was no way that you could.

“It’s not a suggestion. Either you get in willingly, or we force you in. And this bad boy was made with hellfire too,” the Sister cackled, “strong stuff. If we force you inside, it’s going to hurt.”

You had never really experienced the sting of hellfire before - not anything stronger than the crucifix in the basement, anyway. There was a part of you that wanted to test it, to test her, but perhaps now wasn’t the best time, especially when there was so little room to move. You took a step forward and shrugged the ghouls off you, deciding to play her little game for now. Carefully, you wrapped your wings around your body, tucking yourself in, and took a step in. You noticed that the floor of the cage was carpeted, meaning that they’d at least tried to keep you comfortable and give you some respite.

The Sister slammed the door shut behind you, locking it securely when you were completely inside. “Enjoy your stay,” she told you as she turned to leave the room, “we don’t care if you need anything.” And with that, she left, closing all the doors behind her to hide the rest of the world from you.

Immediately you loosened your wings enough to relax as much as you could, and placed your hand on the cage and tried to open the door, foolishly believing that she tricked you and it wasn’t actually locked, or even made with hellfire. The white hot, searing pain you felt as your skin touched the cage was worse than anything they inflicted on you in the basement. You could practically hear the sound of your skin sizzling under the intense heat, and soon enough small red welts appeared on your fingers where you’d touched the metal. You cried out in agony, doubling over with the pain and collapsing onto the carpeted floor. The hand that hadn’t touched the cage, applied pressure to your wound in a futile attempt to stop the pain, and when that failed, your body curled in on itself, putting you in the fetal position and praying that would stop the pain. Eventually, it subsided, and when you felt confident enough to look, you watched as your body began to slowly repair itself. What would be an almost instantaneous heal took at least two minutes before you were back to full health and the pain had completely subsided.

In that moment, though, everything felt bleak, and for the first time since crashing down to the planet, tears began to form in your eyes and spill out onto the carpet. You needed to leave, you knew that you did, but the lack of compassion from the undead beings that had captured you and the near-inescapable fortress you found yourself in had made you feel entirely hopeless. Abandoned by your creator, only to fall into the hands of sadistic vampyres that already had a taste for your blood, it truly felt as though you had nowhere left to turn, that you were stranded with beings that considered you more of a meal than a living and breathing creature. You wondered if you ever would escape, or if you’d be forced to spend your eternity here.

“Looks like someone didn’t listen to the good Sister when she told you not to touch the cage.”

The Cardinal’s voice snapped you out of your despair, forcing you upright on the floor and to look at him through wide, yet blurry eyes, broken up visibly by the bars that separated you both. You didn’t want him here, you didn’t want him to see you like this. “Why art thou present?” you sniffed, trying to hide your face from him. “Why canst thou not leave me in peace?”

“Aw,” he crouched down in front of you so that he was level with your eyes, “Did we finally break you, little angel?” His tone was filled with condescension and absolute disrespect. You could feel the joy oozing from him as he watched you like this, enjoying every tear that spilled over your waterline and was rubbed away by your hand. “You know, if you would just tell us what we want to know then all of this would go away.” He placed his hand on the door and unlocked it, moving out the way only enough to open it fully. He reached his hand inside, running his thumb over one of the stray tears that fell from your eyes and pulled his hand back in pain, the sound of sizzling echoing in your ears. Your tears had burned him, even just a little. It was good to keep in mind, at least.

“But, in the meantime,” he continued, shaking off the wetness from his finger and rubbing it on the carpet to ease the pain. His hands moved to your shoulders underneath your wings, and pulled you closer to him, making sure your neck was level with his mouth. Your uninjured hand propped you up on the carpet, trying not to rest your entire weight on him just in case he moved and you fell onto the bars. “I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

His fangs pierced your neck and you felt his tongue lave over the wound, his mouth sucking all the blood from your veins fervently. He groaned in appreciation when the first drop of your blood touched his taste buds, the kind of groan that would usually be followed by eyes rolling. You tried to push him off you again, but every time you did, he would just sink his fangs in harder, and make the whole experience more painful to you.

You tried to fight off the unconsciousness that was threatening to take over your body, truly you did. But once again, the familiar coldness of your very life essence being sucked from your body and the numbness that followed dragged you into a blackness you wished you’d never see again.

You woke some time later, curled in a ball on the carpeted floor of your cage, your entire body aching from the ordeal, but also from the many hours you’d spent on the ground. You still weren’t back to your full health, but because you were closer to your halo this time, the healing process was faster. Dawn had broken over the world, and sunlight had begun to seep into the room dulled by the thickness of the curtains, providing you with a comfort you’d not realised you’d needed.

You stood with a groan, stretching your limbs out one by one until the stiffness had ebbed away, following that with your wings. The two, extra limbs that hung from your back and span the length of your body were certainly grateful for the movement, even if you couldn’t properly spread them and get the exercise your body so desperately craved. In the bed, you saw the Cardinal, laying on top of the blankets and sleeping, your blood still staining his mouth. You’d always assumed that vampyres could only sleep in the coffins that they were buried in, but as it turned out not all of them were forced to have such an affliction.

Days begun to pass in a blur, causing you extra pain as now you could witness the passage of time from the comfort of your prison. You’d come to learn in that time, that angel blood was a particular delicacy for vampyres and demons, an intoxicating elixir that took the sobriety from the creatures of the underworld and allowed them to behave in all manner of ways. The Cardinal had decided to generously supply the rest of the supernatural beings with your blood, but wouldn’t allow any of them to come near you, meaning that every day he would come in with a plethora of empty wine bottles, lie you down, and stick two needles in the two crooks of your arms, directly into your veins. Each syringe connected to a tube which would gradually syphon your blood into those empty bottles, entirely uncaring of you or your wellbeing and almost killing you each and every time. He wouldn’t come in daily to do it, though he tried. Your body, without wearing your halo, just wouldn’t recover fast enough to do so, and he couldn’t risk your permanent demise, not when he had so much at stake. He would only come back when you were well enough, and reminded you how you ought to be grateful for that as he pricked the needles into your veins.

One evening, while you sat in your cage, a man entered the room. At first, he was simply cleaning the room, eyes focussed on his task and paying you no mind at all. But you noticed that every so often, he’d look up at you, briefly making eye contact, then turning his head away quickly as though he’d just done something wrong. Every other day from then on, you saw him, watched him, looked onto his face as he went about his business and then left a few short hours after.

And one day, you finally plucked the courage to wave at him.

Prev. ⛧ Next

[her-satanic-wiles]

Dawn Chorus - VIII

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 8.2k.

Reading Time: 33 min.

Warnings: Catholic guilt, cum swap, cunnilingus, divine voyeurism?, fellatio, finger sucking, free use fantasy, frottage, masturbation, pillow humping, praise kink, references to non-con, references to rape kink, references to somnophilia, self slut shaming, semi-public masturbation, this may be the horniest thing I’ve ever written

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @dolceterzo @whitepawfics @howlingco @sirianisrock @amaridelphi @katiegvf

🔞 MDNI 🔞

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

You spent more time in your cage since the wine cellar, actively not wanting to leave. For the first time since he put you in there, you felt safer behind bars than you felt outside of them. The Cardinal - or Copia (you weren’t sure what you should call him after… that) - went straight to his bed and fell asleep, not bothering to lock you in. As far as he was concerned, you weren’t a danger, nor had you misbehaved. You put yourself in there of your own volition, and you could remove yourself as you pleased.

Waking up the next evening, he was still conservative and modest about exposing himself to you as he got dressed for the night ahead, as though the night before had never happened, changing in the bathroom and leaving you to your thoughts in his room. He came back in, adorned in a different cassock from last night (a black one), and picked up his biretta from the dresser.

He cleared his throat, “Last night,” he began, not looking at you at all, “you regret it, right?” He didn’t wait for your answer. “Let’s just pretend it never happened, okay?”

You nodded, which he could see out the corner of his eye. He nodded too, put his biretta on, then turned to leave before hesitating at the door. “I won’t lock you in today, Angel,” he continued, “Your halo is still locked away, and you’ll have a ghoul to guard you, so go wherever you like.”

“Th-thank you.” You said, your voice gravelly from your sleep.

The Cardinal nodded and then left, making sure the front door clicked behind him. You heard him addressing one of the ghouls that stood guard at his front door and then the corridor fell silent, indicating that he’d gone for good. You were now free to wander around.

You wanted to leave - to take those books back to the library and pick new ones. But you couldn’t bring yourself to face anyone. You were sure they’d be able to see your transgressions on your face, that they’d know simply by looking at you that the Cardinal had sullied you and your good name and pure body the night before, while you both were drunk no less. Numerous sins were committed last night, and you weren’t sure you’d ever get the forgiveness you once craved, especially now.

You wandered into the Cardinal’s bathroom and turned the taps, remembering how to work the tub since the Cardinal taught you the first time. You hadn’t used this tub often, on account of your wings getting in the way, but your time in there had been most relaxing the last time, you felt like you needed to use it again.

Upon removing your robes, you let them drop to the floor where you stood, the fabric easily sliding off your body and pooling at your feet. Bubbles grew and popped in the water as it gathered in the centre, and filled up to perfection, making the room smell like eucalyptus and mint, immediately calming your mind and shushing all the doubts and worries that had plagued you for God knew how long.

You sunk into the warm water and your body relaxed instantly. You could practically feel the sin washing off of you from last night’s escapades, bubbles gathering around your skin and hiding your body as though they were protecting you from further violation, welcome or otherwise. You were able to quash most of your thoughts, bury them in a box and file them away in your mind, never to be looked at again. You sighed and relaxed further back, allowing your head to lull against the porcelain. If you weren’t already awake, you’d have no problem falling asleep in here.

“Given a body and not shown how to use it.”

Your eyes snapped open as you heard the Cardinal’s voice, clear as though he were standing right beside you despite you being alone in the room. The sound of his voice made your heart race, a sharp reminder of what had happened between you only the night before. You felt guilt enveloping you, threatening to drown you in its oppressive grip. The shame soaked into every part of your being and clung to you like a second skin. You were powerless to overcome it.

“You never touched yourself, have you?”

The quiet of the moment was broken by the eerie repetition of his words, which lingered in your thoughts. You couldn’t help but feel as if you had betrayed the very essence of your celestial nature, as if you had failed in some fundamental way.

“Virgins are so easy to please. So quick to cum.”

You dipped further into the water, as though trying to drown out the voice in your head that was claiming you. However, the marks left by your brief mistake and the stains of your indiscretion would not go away with any amount of water.

Your acts threatened to smother you under their crushing weight, bearing down on you like a heavy burden. You had deviated from the straight and narrow, giving in to want and temptation in a moment of weakness. And now you were left to consider the implications of your choices as you sat in the peaceful solitude of the bathtub.

Though guilt and regret weighed heavily on your mind, there was a part of you that couldn’t shake the pure pleasure that had flowed through your veins during your meetings with the Cardinal. There was an irresistible thrill in the restricted, a forbidden pleasure that sent shivers down your spine and ignited your body with desire, even with all the weight of your transgressions.

You had given in to the seductive pull of passion with every touch and caress, losing yourself in the intense ecstasy of the moment. You felt the Cardinal’s hands on your flesh, his lips on your body, kindling a fierce fire inside of you that would eventually consume you.

The sensation of his touch remained on your skin as you lay in the bath, a lingering reminder of the pleasure you had experienced together. You knew it was a sinful pleasure and you shouldn’t have indulged in it, but you couldn’t help but feel so satisfied after those delicious moments.

“The beauty of this form is that you can give yourself pleasure whenever you want.”

You bit your lip as you remembered how he felt, thick and heavy against your centre, rutting against you violently as he took his pleasures from your body. As you lost yourself in the memory, you noticed you were reacting in a similar way to last night; your heart rate rising, pulse quickening, the blood pumping through your veins much faster than before, your nipples now standing erect and sensitive as your breasts heaved with the rise and fall of your exerted breathing, the warm water running over the peaks and somehow stimulating them.

That was all bad enough, but your clit had begun tingling, too, exactly how it had when the Cardinal was teaching you about your body. His phantom thumb rolled over the nerves and had your hips bucking upwards, legs involuntarily spreading and waiting for someone to come and relieve your suffering.

“You can give yourself pleasure whenever you want.”

You can.

You shouldn’t.

Your mind telling you “no” didn’t stop your hand from trailing down your body, running over one of your nipples and making you hiss out in pleasure. Your mind telling you “no” couldn’t possibly stop your fingers from curling around your mound, allowing your middle finger to land where you needed it most. Just the mere connection of the pad of your finger sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, making you gasp at the contact.

You remembered how the Cardinal moved his thumb to get you to cry out, and so, you copied his actions, swirling your middle finger in tight circles to replicate the feeling. And, oh. It felt exquisite. Not quite as divine as the Cardinal’s gloves melting into your flesh as they had done, but even still, it was good enough to steal noises from your throat; making your eyes shut to allow you to just feel. Little, breathy “ah”’s falling from your lips as the water sloshed around your thrusting hips, squirming beneath your own touch as you had his.

You applied more pressure and began moving your finger a little faster, crying out at the feeling. Your mind showed you the Cardinal’s face, reddened beneath his white skin as he rut against you, sweat pooling on his brow and that animalistic look in his eyes that made you feel so small and helpless beneath him, despite your impressive strength. With the fluttering of your hole around nothing, you were reminded of the way that the tip of his being kept catching on it, and how you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach flipped. He told you he wanted to bury himself deep inside you, feel you from a different point. You saw the disappointment in his eyes that reflected the emotion in your heart as he promised not to break that boundary you’d set in the moment.

But you wanted him to. God, you wanted him to take you there and then, spear you on himself and force you to sin with him…

Your eyes snapped open and you pulled your hand away. He could be watching right now - the Almighty, whom you’d so quickly and happily forsaken twice now in less than twelve hours. The water poured off your body as you stood, and climbed out of the porcelain tub, catching a glimpse of your flushed and lust-filled skin as you exited and entered dry land. You wrapped a towel around yourself, not bothering to pick up your robe as you trudged through the apartments and into the Cardinal’s bedroom.

“You think your god is watching one of his angels get - fuck! - ruined by a son of Satan?”

You shook your head, and slammed the heels of your palms against your temple, trying to rid yourself of his words - despite the excitement bubbling in your stomach at the notion.

What good could your God do now? You may have forsaken Him, but didn’t He do that to you first? So what if He watched? So what if He knew that you’d sinned? That you touched yourself just once to a memory of your own transgressions? Just one more time… one more orgasm wouldn’t hurt as you were already in so much trouble. You could go to confession after, tell a priest your sins and be reassured that He would forgive you now that you owned up to your mistake.

Just once more.

You walked over to the Cardinal’s bed and ran your hand over the soft, smooth velvet, the red darkening under your touch as you stroked it gently. A wave of contradictory feelings passed through you as your fingers traced over the Cardinal’s rich bedspread. Shame mixed with longing, guilt with desire, and the sensations swirled around you, threatening to overwhelm you.

The Cardinal’s words lingered in your thoughts, a sneaky voice that aroused deep-seated fears and desires that you were unable to ignore. You were drawn irreversibly towards the forbidden temptation of indulging in pleasure and giving in to the sinful desires that had been reawakened within you.

You allowed the towel to fall from your body, and climbed upon the bed, letting the velvet to engulf your naked flesh as you stretched out atop it. You’d spent many hours in this bed, sleeping, modest, covered. You’d never had the opportunity to truly feel it beneath your skin and how luxurious it felt. Sinning in style.

You reached for the Cardinal’s pillow with trembling hands, grazing the plush material with your fingers as you imagined him by your side. The recollection of his touch and his passionately whispered words caused you to feel a deep ache, and stoked a fire that burned with extreme intensity.

You brought that pillow to your face, smelling the scent of his cologne and skin imprinted on the fabric, remembering that scent mixed with his sweat. You were practically intoxicated again, overcome with hunger and desperation.

But a voice of reason whispered cautions in the back of your mind, even as you yearned to lose yourself in the heat of passion once more. You were aware of the repercussions of giving in to temptation, of the cost of breaking your word and giving in to the thoughts of forbidden desires.

You lay on your back, spreading and flattening your white wings out comfortably, not taking into account the stark contrast of the blood red beneath you, and the purity of your body. You kept clutch on that pillow as you let your hand travel down your navel and pick up where you left off, this time the sensitivity from your first escapade heightening your experience, and making you call out louder than before.

You rocked against your hand, giving yourself over to the pleasure coursing through your body, toes curling into the mattress as you worked yourself to completion. It felt so good. Clearing your mind of all wrongdoing to focus on the sensation, your hand working faster and faster.

Hitting that spot.

Right there!

Yes!

“Fuck!”

Your own voice echoed the Cardinal’s from last night, the profanities that tumbled from his mouth in the throes of passion infected you, and somehow made your touch feel just a little better. Just a few more circles into your flesh and you came undone, your back arching off the bed and your whole body shutting down as your orgasm washed over you, nothing moving except your finger as it worked over your clit continuously to draw out that feeling for as long as possible.

Your breathing was laboured when your orgasm finally subsided, and you crumpled onto the bed in a blissful heap. Disbelief clouded your mind for a second, unable to fathom how you’d lived for so long and not experienced such a feeling - and how it took a son of Satan to show you the light. But that was that. You’d never do it again. You made a promise to yourself there and then as you righted the Cardinal’s bed, cleaned the towel away, and dressed yourself in your robes again. Except, this time, your nipples were still sensitive and rubbed against the fabric, keeping your pleasure at the forefront of your mind.

The Cardinal and you set into a dance for the following week, as you both were avoiding each other as much as possible. He wouldn’t look at you, just dress and leave, and you’d be left to your own devices. You didn’t have the strength to leave the apartment, nor did you want to. Despite your promise to yourself, the second the Cardinal had closed the door, you removed your robes, climbed onto his bed and touched yourself, damn near addicted to the feeling.

You grappled with the act again, trying to convince yourself that you shouldn’t dig yourself into a deeper hole, that no matter how much confessing you did, one day you’d cross the line and be entirely unforgivable. Yet, it didn’t stop your body yearning to be touched, to be savoured, to give you the most pleasure while it could, because it couldn’t stop wanting. And so, despite the internal conflict and war zone that was occurring in your mind, you climbed onto his bed and gave yourself over, yet again, to pleasure.

Your hands were getting used to your touches by the middle of the week, allowing you to just go by muscle memory as you played with yourself. Sometimes, your mind would show you images of the Cardinal in the wine cellar, replay the whole scene frame by frame until you came at the thoughts. But sometimes, sometimes your brain would insert new scenes, new wants and wishes for you to think about every time you saw the Cardinal’s face. How you’d remember the victorious few in Canaan celebrate their wins and insert both yourself and the Cardinal into their places.

You imagined the Cardinal pressing you against a wall, burying himself inside you as he took you from behind, his hands pinching your nipples just as he told you to do in the wine cellar.

You imagined him slipping inside you in the wine cellar, giving into his own desires and not caring a peep about your own - using your body as the Lord did, except your pleasure came as a side effect.

You’d bury your face into his sheets and inhale his scent, clutching onto his pillow as you did the first time when you took yourself to his bed. But that action would end up opening a whole new door for you. The way that your body had sat meant the pillow grazed against your nipple every single time you squirmed, and even though it felt great, you got a better idea.

You pushed that pillow down your body with both hands, and wrapped your thighs around it keeping the edge of the pillow pressed against your folds. At first, you moved the pillow against your body, but your arms grew tired too quickly, and your hips ended up taking over, grinding them against the plushness.

You switched positions, for the first time getting off your back and onto your knees, stroking yourself with the pillow beneath you - and it felt better than before. Would the Cardinal allow you to do this to him? Would he lie beneath you as you took what you wanted from him, like the whores of Babylon did for their clients?

You bit your lip at the thought - the Cardinal treating you like his own, personal whore. How he’d take you over and over again, and make you serve him like you served your God. Why did you want this? Why did you want to get on your knees for this man? And why was his title falling from your lips as you fucked yourself against the very pillow he slept on?

You brought yourself over the edge twice in that way, the first time not keeping you satiated long enough to last the rest of the day.

Each day that passed made you more desperate than the first, guilt gnawing away at you as you’d violate yourself over and over again, but being unable to stop it from happening. Even the Cardinal breathing as he slept had you needing to rush into the living room, hike your robes up to your thighs, straddle the arm of the couch and work yourself to completion, hand over your mouth to muffle your needy sounds.

You realised in that moment that you didn’t truly face restrictions anymore, and it both thrilled and frightened you.

*

Guilt gnawed away at Copia, too, except for him it wasn’t because of divine intervention or other such ridiculousness. For him it was mixed in with sadness that you, the very object of his desires, just didn’t want him in the same way. You’d consented in the wine cellar, and Hell, you really enjoyed yourself, that much he knew to be true. But Copia felt the oppressive weight of sadness bearing down on his shoulders, suffocating him with its firm hold. The disappointment that was eating away at him, the bitter taste of rejection that lingered on his tongue like a poisonous pill, was something he was unable to get rid of.

Despite the intoxicating passion you two had shared in the wine cellar, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of unease that persisted in the back of his mind. He was aware that you had given your consent to that passionate encounter, but something in your eyes afterwards, a glimmer of doubt or hesitation, left him feeling empty and hollow inside.

For the briefest moment, he allowed himself to think that you wanted him as much as he did. But now that evening had broken through the illusion, all that remained was the harsh, cold reality of his unfulfilled desire.

Memories of that fateful night in the wine cellar replayed themselves in Copia’s head like a scratched record, every detail seared into his memory with agonising clarity. No matter how hard he tried, the vivid images that danced behind his closed eyelids and haunted him like ghosts from the past wouldn’t go away.

His ears echoed of your wanton moans, how they oozed with pleasure you’d never felt before that sent a wave of goosebumps up and down his body, hardening his cock at the thought.

With the room filled with the gentle glow of candles and the flickering flames creating long shadows on the walls, he was sitting by himself at his desk. His work was left undisturbed as he was preoccupied with thoughts of your euphoric presence, your gentle touch, and your passionately whispered words.

He couldn’t forget the way your body jiggled, the way you were so innocent and supple. The frantic beating of your heart as you practically hung off his dick. Lucifer - he needed it. He needed you.

Copia sighed heavily as he ran a hand through his messy hair, longing and frustration fighting inside of him like rivals. His thoughts were constantly focused on you, your image ingrained in his memory like a brand, making it difficult for him to concentrate or focus on the task at present.

Fucking his hand at his desk wasn’t his finest moment, but it was a necessary evil in the grand scheme of things. He remembered how good your mouth felt around his thumb, and ended up cumming all over his papers at the thought of you swallowing every drop he gave you - whether it poured down your throat or into your womb, it made no difference to him.

On top of his already troubled mind, Copia felt the weight of Sister Imperator’s scrutiny bearing down on him. Her persistent threats to interfere with your interrogating and even take over the Satanic Church did nothing but increase his nervousness and erode his faith in his own abilities.

Sister Imperator was not someone to be taken lightly, and her disappointment with his performance only made him feel more insecure. He tried so hard to keep up a front of competence and poise, but he couldn’t get rid of the sense that he wasn’t doing enough to fulfill his responsibilities as your carer and as the leader of the Church.

Every threat he received from Sister Imperator was like a knife to his pride, a constant reminder of his flaws and shortcomings. He was aware that he had to perform better in order to take back control of the situation and establish that he was suitable for his position in the Church hierarchy. However, despite his best efforts, he was unable to shake off the doubt that hung over him like a ten-tonne weight.

Copia could not deny the noticeable change in your demeanour since that evening. He was deeply struck by the subtle avoidance in your movements and the way your cheeks flushed whenever your eyes met his. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret deep in his chest, knowing he had embarrassed and made you uncomfortable.

He couldn’t help but notice your attempts to stay away from him and felt a little sorry for you. He had thought that the closeness you two had would strengthen your bond, but it appeared to have pushed a wedge between you. He wanted to be there for you, to help you overcome the growing gap between you, but he was afraid to invade your personal space because he knew you needed time to process what had happened between you.

He did, however, get a sneaking suspicion that you were no longer as innocent as you made out to be. He tucked himself into bed one morning and lay his head on the pillow, eager for a day of sleep when he smelled something different about his room.

The smell on his pillow was familiar, and it made his heart skip a beat. He stopped, trying to figure out the source of the scent that was now filling the room with his enhanced senses. The scent was subtle and seductive, stirring something deep inside of him.

He took a deep breath and the aroma surrounded him, enveloping him in a blanket of desire and warmth. And suddenly, he realised what was going on. It was your smell, distinctive and unmistakable, but with a distinct twist as it seeped into the pillow’s material. That same smell had lingered on his hand after the wine cellar, your cunt tormenting him from the leather of his glove for days after. He couldn’t bring himself to wash it away, instead choosing to let it linger until it naturally faded.

You’d been touching yourself, he was sure of it.

Copia felt a shiver run down his spine as a flicker of longing ignited within him at the realisation. He recalled the warmth of your body against his, the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips, and the softness of it against his lips. Strong and all-consuming, the memory flooded his mind, making him feel both regret and desire at the same time.

The memory urged his hand down his pyjama pants with his stained pillow pressed to his nose, inhaling you and making himself cum quietly so as not to wake you.

Yet moments before his orgasm hit, he heard you leave the room, and didn’t return. When he woke up that evening, he found you passed out on the sofa, cheeks flushed and thighs exposed beneath your skirts that had lifted in your sleep. He bent down and could smell you on the arm of the sofa, and instantly he felt his cock stiffen once again. You were so tempting, just lying there after humping the furniture like a dog in heat, sweet on the eye yet sinful in the mind. He could have just slid into you there and then and had his way with you, but instead he took to fucking his hand in the shower once again.

His suspicions were finally confirmed the very next night, returning home a little earlier than normal to find you in a precarious position.

Your back was to the door, and you couldn’t hear him enter over the sound of your own moans as you rubbed yourself on the arm of his desk chair, entirely without clothes. Your wings hung loosely behind you, shifting as your hips moved back and forth on the upholstered section of the arm, little thrusts that had you gasping and whining, sounding delightful each time.

And you had no idea he was there, just losing yourself in the pleasure, clit dragging along the fabric and, as he got closer, both hands on both nipples, pinching and pulling to add to the sensation. Your movements were so fluid, it was painfully obvious how experienced you were now - no longer the pure angel he’d defiled in the cellar. A small part of him was angry that he hadn’t been involved in this whole process, that he hadn’t got to witness your journey with self-pleasure and diving deeper and deeper into corruption of your own free will. The other part of him recognised that you were feral because of him and his cock, and how desperate you were to recreate that.

Fuck - your scent filled the entire room to the point where it smelled like sex and had his cock chubbing up beneath his cassock. If you let him, he’d bend you over his desk and fuck you until you passed out - probably wouldn’t even stop then.

He waited; bade his time until he could watch you cum again, the muscles in your back spasming as you finally tipped over the edge. The way your body froze and your breath hitched was delightful, and had sent shivers down his spine and blood rushing to his core making him fully hard and gagging for you. He could fantasise about the dark as much as he wanted, but there was nothing that made him more unhinged than watching his partner cum. Nothing made him more possessed than the way the body looked as it orgasmed, how it sounded and tasted.

Your blood was so much sweeter now, he could smell it pumping through your veins much faster than usual. Obviously, he knew that blood was sweeter after an orgasm, but even so, yours was a calling. He was a bee to honey. He wanted a taste of you so badly.

In the throes of your passion, you couldn’t hear him approach. You could hear the beating of your own heart and the sound of your breaths rising and falling with the exertion.

“Having fun without me, I see,” he whispered into your ear.

You jumped out of your skin, screaming when you saw him in your peripheral vision, falling onto the seat of the chair with your right leg still hanging over the arm, your left keeping you upright with your foot planted on the floor. He had a smug grin on his face, his mouth lifting up on its right corner and that same dark look in his eyes that he had before. His left hand was on the back of the antique chair as he leaned on it, staring down at you with those eyes that told you he was hungry. Your right hand was also on the back of the chair to hold you upright, while the other rested on the desk as you were pushed to sit in between the wooden arms sideways, looking up at him with wide, doe eyes that made him groan. One of your wings had fallen, and was resting largely on the floor. The other had been pinned against you and the upholstery.

It didn’t escape you how close his fingers were to yours, nor that you were still completely naked and bearing the weight of his gaze. The way your body had fallen and steadied itself had left your core wide open, spread out and glistening in the warm light of the room and so cold from the air teasing it as your sensitivity began to set in.

He put his right hand on top of yours on the desk and leaned over your body, effectively trapping you where you fell and hovering above you. His weight wasn’t entirely put onto your hand, meaning you could move it if you wanted to. But the shock had rendered you immobile - well, the shock and the look in his eyes.

“If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask,” he said, voice low and gruff like it was down in the wine cellar.

He was hardly touching you, barely near you, yet you felt as though he was suffocating you completely. You were hot, the strength of his gaze warming a flush on your cheeks and ensnaring you in his trap while you remained breathless and helpless. And needy.

He was offering himself to you on a golden platter, praying that you’d say yes. Waiting for that word to fall from your mouth.

He taunted you further, “Did you think I didn’t know? Did you think I couldn’t smell you everywhere? Was there a piece of furniture that you didn’t drag this needy little cunt all over, hm? Even my pillow couldn’t escape your horny little rampage.”

Your eyes kept moving from his eyes to his lips, watching his mouth form words underneath his moustache, and thinking about how it would feel elsewhere.

“Will you ask for it, angel?” he asked, his tone more decisive. “Or will you tell me to walk away?”

He watched your eyes as they moved around his face, and could practically hear the cogs turning in your mind. You were seriously considering it. It amused him.

Without warning, you launched yourself upwards, pulling your hand out from underneath his and wrapping your arms around his neck to keep you steady. Your lips crashed onto his, a desperate, inexperienced kiss that was all teeth and tongue, but totally conveyed your ferality and your need to be ravaged. All shame flew out the window when you pressed your naked body against his cassock, feeling his hardness pressed against you but dampened by the fabric.

He grunted at the action, but immediately flew into his response. His hands came to your waist and clutched onto you, holding you steady and relieving the pressure from his neck as he held you upright. You whimpered between the smack of your lips together as his tongue entered your mouth, less bloody than before but still so breathtaking. You wanted him to take everything from you now, Almighty be damned. So far from the angel you were since you came here, now you were eagerly spreading your legs for a vampyre no less. Who had you become? And why were you fine with it?

The Cardinal pulled and pushed at your body, manoeuvring you to sit upon his desk with your legs spread and waiting for him. All the while, his mouth never left yours until he had got you where he wanted you. Those lips of his then began their journey down your body, stopping at your neck where he paid particularly close attention to the pulse point, then travelled down over your breasts, to lick and suck at your nipple. He then copied the movement to the second one, just to hear you cry out for him again. Then to your stomach, and finally landing on your mound, pulling the chair up and taking a seat.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You asked, breathlessly.

“You liked my fingers last time - you’ll like my mouth today.” He responded, simply.

“No but… you can’t.”

He looked up at you. “Oh, sweet, innocent angel. I promise you I can. And I will.”

“But-”

“Relax.”

He let out a growl upon seeing you; your glistening, tight heat exposed to him, ready and waiting for his tongue to ravish you like the heathen he was. He teased you by planting a kiss… or several… on your thighs, making you want in a way you never imagined possible.

His finger moved up and down your folds, once or twice catching on your clit, making you a shiver and a gasp from excitement and sensitivity. His eyes fluttered shut with delight as those fingers that had collected your slick slipped into his mouth. The exact same flavour from all those nights ago when he licked his gloves clean of you. The very same taste that tormented him upon smelling you fucking yourself on his furniture.

He kissed you exactly where you wanted him. His tongue came out, laving over your clit exactly as his fingers had, swirling and dancing over your flesh and making you cry out for him. Your back arched off the desk entirely as your body moved instinctively, hands flying to his hair and digits locking around his mouse-brown strands. The Cardinal rushed in, his tongue swirling roughly around your sensitive clit and intermittently sucking at it to elicit those heavenly noises from your lips. Hips rocking back and forth as they had done every night and day this passed week or so, chasing your pleasure and riding his tongue, like you were used to doing with everything else.

The first time he locked his lips around your clit and sucked, you screamed. Not just an outcry or a moan, a genuine scream of surprise that made the Cardinal chuckle between your legs. Your fingers tightened in his hair as you jumped, only to feel his hands push you back into the original position you were in.

His lips moved, consistently hitting the right spots and making you clench around nothing while his moustache scratched against your labia. All the while, gasps and groans were falling from your mouth, but he wanted more. He pulled away and replaced his lips with his fingers, buttery soft gloves touching you once more.

“You have to tell me,” he began, licking his lips clean of you, “you have to tell me how it feels.”

“Mmm!”

“No, angel, use those words you learned so prettily. Does it feel good?”

“Y-yes!”

“Do I make you feel good?”

“Yessssss - oh!”

“Did you like my mouth?”

“S-so mu-uh! Much!”

He laughed. You really had no idea what he wanted you to do. His laugh wasn’t malicious - he certainly wasn’t making fun of your naivete. You were just so sweet - so innocent, even after everything you’d done this week.

“Which did you like more, angel? My fingers or my mouth?”

“Oh! Mouth! I l-like your mouth!”

“You want me to use it again?”

“Yes!”

“Beg me to. Tell me how much you want my mouth.”

His movements on your clit got faster and added more pressure, scrambling your brain. You were trying to find sentences to formulate, but nothing was coming out. “I…” you began, feeling overwhelmed. “I-” You tried to think of something, anything, but your mind was too focussed on the pleasure it wouldn’t work. You took a breath, and whined, “Please.”

Copia would have just laughed. If you weren’t you, he would have degraded you, told you to try harder, that you obviously didn’t want it hard enough. But your please was so desperate, so innocent like you might cry, for once it was the only thing he needed. He’d teach you how to use your words properly before the next time - for now, he’d oblige, because there wasn’t a way that he couldn’t.

He dove straight back into your core face-first, vigorously sucking and licking at your wetness and putting his index finger inside of you, making you cry out once more. He curled that finger upwards, and kept repeating that motion over and over again until your body felt like jelly.

Now, you were moaning, but in between your whines, whimpers and screams, was the occasional peppered “Good”, “So good” and “Yes!” until eventually a combination of his lips and his fingers had you tipping over the edge, and cumming around him, leaking out more and more until you were entirely spent, hole clenching around him as you peaked.

With one final kiss to your clit, he pulled back, looking up at your reddened and exhausted face with pride. He stood up and nestled himself in between your open legs, running his lips and tongue over your bare skin, up your neck before capturing you in a kiss. You could taste yourself on his mouth, and feel his hardness pressed up against your centre.

You broke away. “Are you…” You began. “I mean, do you - will you…?”

The Cardinal laughed at you, your awkwardness over the subject, your innocence even now not allowing you to finish any of your sentences. “Fuck you?” He asked harshly, just to see your reaction.

You nodded.

“Do you want me to?” He asked.

“Yes, but -”

“Then, no. I won’t.”

“What?”

“If you have to say but then you don’t want to. But what I just did for you,” he brought his index finger and thumb to your lips and pinched the bottom one in between them, “would you like to do for me?”

“I can do that?”

He smiled, eyes trained on your lips. “Of course. If I taught you, would you? Would you use your mouth for me?”

You hesitated for a moment, not because you weren’t intrigued or because you didn’t want to. Mostly it was because you didn’t know how, or what such an act even looked like. But still, you nodded and said, “Yes.”

He turned the chair to face adjacent to the desk and took several steps back, bringing his gloved hands to his cassock and removing the garment completely. He ordered, draping his robes over the back of the loveseat. His gloves were the next to go, being draped on top of his cassock. He was left in his undergarments: sweatpants and a t-shirt. The sweatpants left nothing to the imagination, showing the outline of his hardened length beneath the lightweight fabric. He settled onto the desk chair and looked into your eyes. “On your knees, angel.”

You did as he asked, remembering this position from what felt like months ago now. How he was drunk in his room, holding your halo in his hand and putting his thumb in your mouth, relishing in the feel of it. You saw the same look in his eyes, only this time it had heat pooling again in your… what did he call it? Cunt? There.

He reached down and picked up your hand. “If it’s too much at any point,” he began, moving that hand to his thigh, “tap on me two times. Show me you can do it.”

You did, tapping on his clothed thigh as he requested despite you not understanding why it was requested of you. He didn’t need to do that.

“Good girl.” He dipped into the waistband of his sweatpants and fished his cock out, and looked at your eyes widen. The Cardinal was big. You knew he was because you’d felt him on you before, but it was a whole different experience seeing him. He didn’t let you the first night you spent together. Not only was the Cardinal long, he was quite girthy, and you wondered how that would feel going in your mouth. You couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“Now,” he continued, “open that mouth for me.”

You did as you were asked, and watched him sit forward. The thumb that he had in your mouth before came back up to your lips and ran over them softly, before he placed it inside.

“Close your mouth around it.”

You did.

“I want you to suck my thumb. Get it nice and wet.”

When you started to suck, you heard him groan. It was quiet and deep, similar to the noise he made when he first got pleasure from you down in the wine cellar. He muttered a, “Cazzo,” which you understood to be “fuck”, and watched him become enraptured by your lips enclosed around his digit.

“I want you to do this when my cock is in your mouth, angel. You think you’re ready?”

You nodded and felt him pull his finger from your mouth.

He widened his legs, inviting you to sit closer, and lifted himself with his hand at the base to make it easier for you. “Tease me a little,” he told you. “Run your tongue up and down me.”

He was doing his best to not overwhelm you, keep you as comfortable as possible. Sucking dick wasn’t a big deal, he knew that, but to someone who’d never done it before it could be a little intimidating. He’d know. He remembered the first time he’d done it and how the person had guided him through it, showing him what they wanted from him and making sure they both took their time. He was so eager to please back then, he did too much too quickly and while his partner had a good time, Copia felt like he fucked it up entirely. The same went for the first pussy he ate, too.

Your mouth opened enough to let your tongue slide out, and he hissed when you made contact. You licked a broad stripe from the base up to the tip, and felt a flutter in your stomach when you heard the groan he made. So, you did it again. This time adding more pressure and earning yourself another hiss.

“A little more spit, angel,” he told you.

You gathered your saliva on your tongue and repeated the action before.

“Oh, that’s it. Take the tip in, now.”

You did one final lick before fluidly taking his tip into your mouth, sucking on the very tip of his cock gently. You didn’t know where to look at first, and so you just looked ahead at his soft tummy, but when you looked up at his face, you realised you were missing out on his expressions: the dark eyes trained on you, the way his top row of teeth bit down on his lower lip, the redness creeping up his cheeks. In that moment, you understood that seeing him enjoying it was the reason why people did this for others. Watching their reactions to your actions was the pleasure that you’d get from an act like this. And you’d do this more often if this was the response.

“Looking up at me so innocently,” he commented when you made eye contact. You’d known for a while it was your corruption that turned him on the most; sullying an angel to get revenge on a Lord he hated, to drive her closer to Hell opposed to the Heaven she came from. Perhaps you’d be lying if you said you didn’t share that feeling. Disobeying the Almighty had given you a newfound thrill - feelings you never had before.

You moved down him a little, taking the initiative first and putting the whole head in your mouth and sucked just a little harder. The Cardinal hissed and his hand flew to your hair instinctively, just how yours did to his hair when he did this to you. This wasn’t a purposeful move, this was just his body reacting to the pleasure, trying to keep you there. Once he knew what he was doing he pulled his hand away.

“S-sorry,” he grumbled.

You pulled off him with a pop. “Does it feel good?” you asked.

“So good, angel!”

You nodded and went right back to it.

“Mm, angel. Move your - fuck - head back and fo-orth, up and d-down.” When you did as he asked, he tipped his head back over the chair. “Oh merda, just like that!”

Every time you moved your head forward, you took a little bit more of him into your mouth, gaining more confidence with each of these reactions. More expletives in Italian fell from his mouth, words you didn’t care to try and translate. He tried his hardest not to buck his hips, not to fuck up into your mouth and overwhelm you too quickly, but it was feeling too good and sometimes he couldn’t help himself, shifting his hips upwards and sliding just a little more into your mouth.

“I won’t be this g-gentle with you in the future, angel- ah!” he told you. “One day, I’m gonna bury - mmm - m-myself in that tight, little throat of yours and make you cry. Cazzo! Been thinking about… about it for so long.” He let out a shaky breath. “Take a little bit more in, if you can.”

You did.

“Oh - Sathanas! Harder. S-suck harder. Gonna cu-um down that throat.”

With every instruction you followed, you watched him melt into the upholstery. His hand moved back to your hair and helped move your head at the pace he wanted, while trying his hardest not to put too much pressure on you and choke you. He wanted you to discover that on your own… or at least, later on with his help at your request.

The Cardinal was practically putty in your hands, breathlessly wrapped around your little finger as you continued to work this magic over him. He could control you with your halo, maybe you could control him with this.

He would have you take breaks, especially when you started taking more of him into your mouth, giving your throat a rest and teaching you how to touch him with your hand - another thing he really liked. He wanted a firm grip, a little rough, fast. And it was that, your hands working the base of his cock and your mouth sucking on the head that sent him over the edge.

He’d tried to warn you, tried to push you off him so he wouldn’t cum directly into your mouth for the first time, but neither of you tried hard enough, or moved quick enough to stop it from happening. And so, his cum landed on your tongue, the faint taste of iron taking you off guard for a moment. He kept his hands on your head, holding you in place while he finished in your mouth, only letting go when he was done with you.

When you popped off him, you held your hand beneath your face to catch any of him that would spill. You didn’t know what to do with it, not until the Cardinal knelt down in front of you and captured you in a kiss, using his tongue to remove as much of his cum from your mouth as he could. Some of it spilled down your chins and onto your bodies, his t-shirt becoming damp at his own cum. He swallowed the rest, as did you after seeing him do it, and let him help you up off your sore knees.

The Cardinal led you to the bathroom where you both cleaned your mouths, before you both dressed, the Cardinal in a new shirt and you back into your same robes.

“Rest up,” the Cardinal told you, putting his robes back on, “take a bath if you need to. I have to get back to work. But I fully intend on seeing you tonight.”

You simply nodded in response, and watched him leave again.

When you lay on his bed, for the first time in a long time, your instinct was to close your eyes and fall into a light sleep.

Prev./Next

[her-satanic-wiles]

Dawn Chorus - VII

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 6.8k.

Reading Time: 28 min.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, blood drinking, corruption kink, drunk sexual content, dubcon (due to drunk sexual content), fear kink, fingering, frottage, graphic injuries, getting drunk, masturbation, mentions of sexual harassment, multiple orgasms, nipple play, PTSD, rape kink, vaginal fingering, virgin kink

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @dolceterzo @whitepawfics @howlingco @sirianisrock

🔞 MDNI 🔞

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

Copia winced at the sound of Mountain’s screams, the agony in his voice too much to bear. Still, he didn’t look away. He wanted to show that he was there for his loyal ghoul, even if this whole ordeal was his fault in the first place. He couldn’t look away because he wanted Mountain’s pain to be his, and prayed to the Dark One that his ghoul would heal soon, and more painlessly than this. The guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of the unintended consequences of his actions.

The medical staff were doing their best to treat the demon’s burns, using Hellfire to cauterise the would and hope that it would heal his burn, and strengthen him. But, they could only hope, as none of the staff were old enough to remember the last time an angel fell into the hands of the Ministry and had to do this. Hell, even Copia wasn’t old enough to remember that and he was pushing 300.

Copia felt a sense of shame tightening its grasp on his heart like a vice as his mind returned to the terrifying scene of your fall. When you needed your wings the most, they failed you, and he had watched helplessly as you crashed into the ground. He’d been overcome in that little moment by a feeling of dread, a deep-seated terror that seemed determined to swallow him whole.

He had never been one to run from difficulties, but seeing you in pain had touched something deep inside of him, bringing regret and grief that he had long buried to the surface. He carried the heavy burden of ensuring the security and welfare of his fellow demons as the head of the Ministry, but he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he had let you down when you were most in need. You were in unbearable pain, as was Mountain, and Sister Imperator was breathing down his neck the entire time because he was disappointing her as well. The world was spinning too fast and he just wanted to get off.

Copia felt sorry for you, going over the day’s events in his head in an attempt to find any indication that he could have done more to keep you from falling. Had he been too complacent, too consumed by his own goals to notice his imminent danger? Or had circumstances worked against him, creating a tragic mosaic that was out of his control? Was this infernal intervention to get him to admit to his wrongdoings, and his deep-rooted emotions that he pushed down and down until he could no longer feel them? Perhaps the Dark One was disappointed by him, too.

Copia’s thoughts were plagued by the image of your fall, a constant reminder of your frailty and the harsh turns of events that have the power to break even the most resilient souls. He could still clearly remember the awful feeling in the pit of his stomach as he saw you fall from the sky, your elegant shape swishing and tumbling through the air like a leaf caught in a hurricane. His stomach lurched.

In that heart-stopping moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl, each passing second stretching out into an eternity as Copia’s mind raced with a thousand unanswered questions. How had it come to this? What unseen force had conspired to bring you to the brink of disaster? And most importantly, what could he do to save you from the impending doom that threatened to consume you whole?

The weight of guilt settled heavily upon Copia’s shoulders as he confronted the painful truth that lay at the heart of his turmoil. In the business of the medical wing, with Mountain’s cries as background music, and the echoes of your fall still ringing in his ears, he could no longer ignore the role he had played in your suffering.

The regret he felt for his deeds, his brutality, and his selfishness returned to haunt him with every instant that went by. It was like a never-ending wave of shame that was about to swallow him whole. He remembered the way he had kept you trapped, a helpless prisoner in his domain, subjecting you to unspeakable torment and degradation at his hands.

The insight came to him like a tonne of bricks, bringing to light the depths of his own depravity. He had wielded his power over you like a weapon, using your vulnerability to satisfy his own twisted desires and gratify his basest impulses. In his arrogance and pride, he had convinced himself that he held dominion over you, that you were nothing more than a plaything to be used and discarded at his whim.

But Sathanas, he couldn’t ever forget the way you looked on your knees for him, his thumb in your mouth and those big, wide, innocent eyes staring up at him in confusion, hatred and fear. The way the pigment of your lips stretched over his thumb, the feeling of your tongue laving over his skin as you sucked on the appendage, completely oblivious to the way all the blood in his body was gathering at his cock, and his half-full length screaming at him, begging him to push you onto your back, lift your robes and defile you completely. He couldn’t help but think of the sounds you’d make, if you enjoyed it or would want him to stop. How loud would your pleasure make you scream for him? Or would you long for the safety of your cage as he ravaged you not two metres away from it?

Of course, when he finally had you hanging off his cock, it would be consensual. He was a lot of things, but a filthy misogynist wasn’t one of them. That was the thing that separated the Satanic church from their Catholic siblings, and something he prided himself on. If he fucked you, it would be because you wanted him to. It was half of the reason why he spent so long being so kind to you - that whole event in his chamber where you were on your knees taking what he gave you, you didn’t consent. It was likely that you had no idea that you even needed to, meaning you couldn’t give your consent. He’d broken the one rule he told himself to abide by, and the guilt was eating him alive. And while none of his subsequent actions could make him atone for his sins, he would do the most to make sure he got close enough to it.

But the fact that he’d never do that again didn’t stop him from thinking about it all the time, wrapping his hand around his cock in the shower and imagining how you’d feel beneath him. You’d get so wet for him, willingly or otherwise. Those big, wide eyes staring at him as he took you on his chamber floor, using your body for his own pleasure. You would be his vulnerable, little plaything, and you’d come to enjoy the feel of him buried deep inside you eventually, if you didn’t enjoy the first time you spent together.

Those fantasies would remain thoughts he had in the shower, though. And he’d only act on them with your permission further down the road. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He’d be better than he was before. He swore that. He could and would never hurt you again, no matter how much his mother wanted him to.

Mountain was going to be okay. The nurses worked hard and tirelessly to take away his pain and make him comfortable, but it did mean that he would be out of commission for a short while. Copia couldn’t help but count his blessings at this, now that everything in his life was quiet save for you. And it was to you that his thoughts turned to next.

He made his way back towards his apartments and opened the door slowly, unsure of where you’d be. You were nowhere in the living room, and so he assumed he’d find you in his bedroom - the assumption being correct.

You’d healed, Copia had no doubt that was to do with the fact that you wore your halo for the first time in a long time, and so he didn’t brace himself to see you as the mangled mess you were not one hour ago when you made impact with the ground. But you were curled up in a ball in front of your cage, your wings wrapped around you as though you were holding yourself, comforting yourself like a child who’d been hurt or abandoned by the ones they loved the most.

When Copia saw you curled up on the ground with your wings wrapped around you like a shield, his heart fell. His chest constricted with a twinge of empathy as he saw the anguish carved into your features and the tears still glistening on your cheeks.

He stood motionless in the doorway for a moment, not knowing what to say or do. He wanted to be there for you, to give you some measure of solace, but he was too consumed by the guilt that still weighed heavily on his mind. It was him, after all, who had placed you in this situation, who had caused you to endure unspeakable horrors, and who had caused you to suffer unfathomable pain.

Copia sighed heavily and moved slowly towards you so as not to startle you. He squatted next to you, his hand tentatively hovering over your shoulder before settling it gently. “Angel,” he said quietly, his voice full of sincere worry. “Are you alright?”

He was waiting tensely for your reply, praying beyond prayer that you would let him confide in you, that you would let him feel your suffering and give you the comfort you sorely needed. However, he knew deep down that his regret would always be overshadowed by the weight of his actions and that words could never make up for the harm he had done.

You were silent for a moment, slowly raising your head to meet the Cardinal’s gaze as the significance of his presence began to register. Your eyes scanned his face for any indication of sincerity or regret, a mixture of pain and uncertainty.

“I…” Your voice caught in your throat as a tumultuous storm of emotions whirled around you. When you did finally say, “I do not know,” your voice was hardly audible above a whisper.

Your words carried a heavy weight of vulnerability, a silent cry for empathy and understanding. You wanted to think the Cardinal genuinely cared about you and was sorry for the suffering he had brought upon you. However, uncertainty lurked in the background of your thoughts, muttering flashbacks of past crimes and broken pledges.

The Cardinal’s hand stayed on your shoulder, a reassuring touch in the thick of your unstable feelings. You leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his closeness despite the doubts that kept popping into your head.

You were overcome with a hectic mix of emotions following the fall. Your body was in excruciating pain at the time, a never-ending reminder of the blow and the wounds it had caused. Though now healed, you could still feel how your body had snapped and bent with gravity, your teeth numb with the fear that rose in you, and the flashback of falling from grace. However, the most excruciating part turned out to be the emotional turmoil.

As you struggled to accept your vulnerability, anxiety took hold of your heart. Any illusions of invincibility had been shattered by the fall, and you were suddenly very much aware of your own existence. You felt exposed and defenceless, in stark contrast to the confident persona you had previously projected.

You felt torn about the Cardinal’s attempt at consolation. You recognised the sincerity of his concern in his gesture, and you were grateful for it. Knowing that he was concerned for your welfare was comforting, particularly during such vulnerable times.

But his presence also acted as a sharp reminder of your complicated relationship. It was impossible to get rid of the remaining mistrust and anger that had built up over time, even with his best attempts to provide comfort. Anything sincere he did now was clouded by his past deeds, which included taking you captive and causing you pain.

A part of you wanted to give in to his comfort and let yourself be supported by him. However, there was also a part of you that was cautious, unwilling to lower your defences and make yourself more vulnerable. He had slashed deep wounds, and healing would require more than words of consolation.

“The ghoul,” you began, sitting up from your position and looking at the Cardinal with wet eyes, “will he be alright?”

The Cardinal nodded. “Takes a lot more than angel tears to bring down the Mountain.” He smiled half-heartedly. “What happened up there?”

“I do not know… not completely. My muscles cramped and I could not regain strength. It did not matter how hard I tried, I could not get my wings to work again.” You started to cry again. “I beg of thee, please do not put me back in that cage again. I did not mean to hurt others.”

It was almost as though you could hear the Cardinal’s heart shattering at your words. The Cardinal’s face softened, regret and sympathy present in his features. He extended his hand hesitantly, as though he wasn’t sure if it would be accepted or rejected. He softly reassured you, “I won’t put you back in the cage,” his voice full of genuine sorrow. “I promise.”

There was silence for a brief moment, broken only by the sound of your sniffles and the gentle hum of the room’s ventilation system. You found yourself grappling with conflicting emotions, torn between the desire to accept the Cardinal’s comfort and the instinct to maintain your guard.

You were nervous as the Cardinal helped you off the floor, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He fastened your wings firmly to keep you from escaping by tying them together with the same chain he’d used previously. He had plans for you, plans that involved taking you somewhere, and you felt a twinge of uneasiness.

He told you to follow him, and you did, keeping quick steps to make sure you didn’t fall behind, as he walked you through the Ministry’s corridors and down multiple flights of stairs. Your mind began to race when you realised he was taking you to the basement. Your memory flooded with how you were treated and how you felt when you first were taken there, and your heart raced with the fear that it was going to happen again. Your whole body froze, making the Cardinal turn around a few paces in front of you, and study you for a moment.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I do not wish to go down there again.” You said quietly.

The Cardinal paused, clearly confused, but when he fully registered your body language, he sighed. “You’ll be fine.” He told you, walking back towards you. “We’re not going all the way down to the bottom.”

“Where will we go?”

“Somewhere you can relax and forget about today.” He tugged at your hand. “Let’s go.”

At the base of the stairs that led to the cellar, you hesitated, but the Cardinal steadily held your arm and led you on. The air was thick with the smell of aged wine, and the stone walls were covered in long shadows by the low light.

“Come on, Angel,” the Cardinal urged, his voice soft yet insistent. “It’ll do you good to relax for a bit.”

With uncertain glances up at him, you twitched nervously behind your wings. Even though you weren’t sure about it, there was a part of you that wanted a little break from your problems.

The scent of aged oak and fermenting grapes filled the air as he guided you down to the wine cellar. The long shadows that the low lighting cast against the stone walls heightened the atmosphere of mystery in the subterranean room.

Shivering from the cold, you let the Cardinal pull you deeper as you sighed, taking in the new surroundings. The walls were lined with rows upon rows of wooden barrels, each one holding priceless liquid gold. Stone archways covered each of the rows, as though they were doorways to entirely different rooms.

The Cardinal moved with purpose, selecting a particular bottle and uncorking it with practiced ease. He poured a generous measure of wine into a crystal glass, sparkling in the orange glow of the candlelight, the rich red liquid glinting as it gathered in the cup.

“Here you go,” he said, offering you the glass with a small smile. “A little something to take the edge off.”

You accepted the glass hesitantly, your fingers trembling slightly as you brought it to your lips. The Cardinal watched you intently, his gaze unwavering as you took a hesitant sip.

The wine was unlike anything you had ever tasted before, the flavour bursting across your tongue in a symphony of sensations. It was warm and velvety, with hints of oak and berries dancing on the palate.

Despite your initial reservations, you found yourself taking another sip, then another, until the glass was empty. A warmth spread through your veins, suffusing you with a sense of contentment you hadn’t felt in ages.

The Cardinal placed the bottle down onto a nearby table, and wandered to a different archway, grabbing a bottle you recognised. It was one of the bottles he’d used the last time he’d drained you. He poured himself a glass as well, taking a long sip before setting the glass down on . He leaned against the wall and gestured for you to sit, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“You alright there, Angel?” He asked, his voice soft with genuine concern. “You seem a bit… tense.”

You nodded slowly, the alcohol already starting to cloud your thoughts. “I’m fine,” you replied, your words slurring slightly. “Just… adjusting, I suppose.”

The Cardinal chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, you’re in good company,” he said, taking another sip of blood.

“Cardinal,” you began once you took another sip of wine, “why have you not told the Sister the truth about my halo? Why have you stopped the second ritual?”

The Cardinal sighed and sat down opposite you. “So many questions.”

“I would appreciate an answer.”

“You ask one, I ask one. Deal?”

You nodded. “Why have you not told the Sister the truth?”

“At first it was because of… because I was drunk. But then, I just didn’t want to.” He took a sip of blood. “Why haven’t you escaped yet?”

“At the outset, it was by reason of my frailty. But at present… I find myself in doubt. Pray tell, why did you halt the second ritual?”

“As an apology for my actions.” He refused to make eye contact with you. “I violated you once… the second ritual meant I’d have to do it again.”

You knew that, of course, but hearing him admit to it was something else. “What course of action do you intend to pursue?”

“No, it’s my turn to ask you a question. What’s Yhwh’s plan?”

As far as you knew, even angels were in the dark about Yhwh’s plan. You had been raised to believe that everything takes place in accordance with God’s divine plan and to put your trust in His wisdom and guidance. But recent occurrences had called into question this belief.

You have seen the pain and injustice done to His children, the cruelty and deceit committed in His name. It caused you to wonder if God really did have a plan or if He has just let His creations go free, to be determined by human foolishness and the randomness of luck.

You could only speculate as to the details of His plan. Maybe it was putting His children to the test in terms of their faith and courage, challenging them to overcome hardship and grow stronger as a result. Or perhaps it was about pointing them in the direction of righteousness and enlightenment by imparting to them the true meaning of forgiveness and compassion.

You’d not seen much of that forgiveness and compassion. You wondered if it was even there at all.

You cleared your throat. “If I were privy to such knowledge, I would readily disclose it. Alas, it escapes me, for I am not allowed such insight. Only the Ophanims and beings of higher echelons hold such secrets. What about the second ritual - what does it include?”

The Cardinal nodded in understanding, then spoke. “We have to tempt you with the thing you really wanted; we have to make you need it, crave it… do anything for it. We know what you want, we were going to make you beg for it.”

You paused, considering asking a follow up question but remembering he wouldn’t let you.

“Tell me about the angels. This hierarchy you mentioned… what are you?”

“There are 9 levels of divine power, and I am on the ninth level. I am just a regular angel, there is nothing special about me. The closest to the Almighty are the Seraphims, followed by Cherubims, Ophanims, Dominions, Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangels… then me.” You let your information soak in before you took another sip of your wine, you could feel the lightheadedness really begin to take effect now. Your entire body felt warm, relaxed, almost limp. It was a fight to stay upright. “What happens when the Sister finds out that you are lying to her?”

“I don’t know exactly - I just know it’s not gonna be good.” The Cardinal’s words were beginning to slur, the effects of your blood clearly taking hold of him as the wine had taken you. “I’d be forced to step down as head of the Church probably, and she’d take control of your interrogation. And she has so many plans for you. She’d be so much worse than me.”

That you didn’t doubt. In such a short time, and with little interactions, you had a feeling she’d take joy in destroying you. And suddenly, you found yourself grateful for the Cardinal.

“I can’t stop thinking about the other day,” the Cardinal began, looking at you directly in your eyes, “what I did to you when I had control of your halo. I know Celestial beings are supposed to be pure, but did you know what I was doing?”

“I knew that it was sexual.” You replied, honestly. “And I saw that you liked it. Why did you stop?”

“Because you didn’t consent. Did you want me to stop?”

You nodded a little. “Then, I did. But now…”

The Cardinal let out a short exhale, “You’re unsure.” He finished his glass and poured you both another. At this point in the night, it was your third glass each.

“Why did you feel the need to exert control over me in that way?” You asked, taking another sip. “Was it just a display of power, or was there something else driving your actions?”

“Something else. I wasn’t in control of myself. My body did what it wanted. And the sight of you, on your knees, eyes wide and unsure. I wanted to make you cry. I wanted to feel you from the inside out.”

The Cardinal’s words were having an effect on you, more than you ever knew could be possible. A weird feeling swept through you as the Cardinal’s words passed over you. It was a stirring of something deeper within you, not fear or disgust as one might expect. There was an irresistible charm to his candour, a rawness that appealed to the primitive urges hidden deep within your celestial essence, even though his confession was unsettling.

You were drawn to his vulnerability in sharing such personal thoughts with you and enthralled by the intensity of his desires. It was as though a curtain had been drawn back to show you a side of the Cardinal you had only ever seen during the shadow of secrecy and darkness. It was odd, but you found yourself drawn to it, drawn to him, in a way that excited and scared you at the same time.

Something inside you sparked at the Cardinal’s admission, an innate desire that throbbed beneath the surface of your celestial body. Something pulled at the very fabric of your being, a sensation unlike anything you had ever felt before—a blending of curiosity and desire. And as you locked eyes with him, there was a silent understanding that grew between you, an acceptance of the unspoken truths that united you in ways you could not have fully imagined.

If he did the same thing to you now - you weren’t confident you’d push him away.

The Cardinal studied you intently, his eyes following the minute changes that danced over your heavenly body. Your essence seemed to pulse with a newfound intensity that reflected his own desires, and he could feel the shift in your energy. You had a hunger in your eyes, a primal longing that expressed so much without saying a word.

The Cardinal felt a rush of excitement and anticipation as soon as he realised that you were sincere about your feelings. It set his senses alight and made his pulse race. He was drawn into the depths of a connection that felt both forbidden and irresistible by the flicker of desire dancing in your eyes. It was a silent invitation that beckoned him closer.

He stood and walked over to you, that same predatory look in his eye that this time, you welcomed. You were going to blame it on the alcohol, but perhaps that would be your first lie.

“Do you like the thought of that, Angel?” He teased, approaching you slowly as if you would run from him at the slightest movement.

You found yourself nodding, unable to stop yourself before you realised the implications of what you’d just confirmed. He stood in front of you, reaching his gloved hand to place it on your chin and allow the leather atop his thumb to graze over your lips a second time.

You swallowed, “Wh-why are you turning m-me into a demon?” You asked, breathlessly, still trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy despite the alcohol running through your veins, and the heat pooling between your legs.

“Because we thought it would make you easier to control.” The Cardinal whispered, dropping his face close to yours. “We didn’t know how to bend you to our will using your halo, so we wanted to drag you to Hell with us. How old are you, Angel?”

“Older than matter.”

“And you’ve been so deprived for so long? Sweet angel, no wonder you’re the way that you are.” His face was now mere centimetres from yours, you could feel his breath fanning above your top lip as he spoke. “You’ve already committed the worst sin imaginable for an angel, haven’t you? Questioning him and being shunned for it.” He put his gloved hands on yours and pulled you off the chair, raising your left one to his lips. “One more sin couldn’t hurt, could it?”

His lips trailed up your arm and ended their journey at the crook of your neck, where he licked and kissed at the sensitive skin. The heat between your legs became unbearable, as your fingertips clutched onto his arms. Your body was fighting against itself, your arms pushing him away, but fingers pulling him towards you. You sighed at the newfound sensitivity, now realising how incredible it felt to have someone there, lavishing you with gentle touches and sin.

This was a sin. You should fight against it, and fight harder.

“It is God’s will that I should be sanctified,” you muttered, breathlessly, recalling the words of the Almighty that you’d remembered, “that I should avoid immorality; that I should learn to control mine own body in a way that is holy and honorable, not in passionate lust like the pagans, who do not know God.”

You felt Copia smile into your neck, his ministrations stopping temporarily. “Matthew 26:41: ‘Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.’” You felt the Cardinal’s hands move to your waist and pull you flush against his hard body, something particularly hard poking out from beneath his cassock and hitting against your hip. “All flesh is weak, Angel. Even yours. Can you do it, I wonder? Can you resist me despite your body calling for me?”

You lifted your hand to his hair and tugged it, pulling his head away from you. You looked into his eyes, dark and lustful as they bore into your soul, reading you like an open book so willing to be read. Your mind was screaming at you, yelling at you to push him away. But your hands, of their own free will, grasped onto his neck and pulled him towards you, your lips crashing onto his with such force, it almost hurt.

His tongue entered your mouth desperately, leading the kiss despite you initiating it. It was your first, and it had taken your breath away whilst heightening all your other senses. You could feel the way his moustache tickled your upper lip, the ferociousness of his tongue sliding against yours as he gave himself over to the pleasure with no resistence. His gloved hands tightened on your waist, and pushed you against the table, forcing you to sit on top of it and spread your legs, inviting him between them.

That tongue tasted like your blood, and you should feel repulsed by the monster who took what he wanted from your body, now in more ways than one. But the iron tang of your blood on him excited and thrilled you in a way it shouldn’t - in a way that would have you cast into the Abyss with no one looking back.

Your nipples hardened beneath your white robe, and wetness seeped out from between your thighs. Your heart was rushing a million miles per minute, and your lungs could barely keep up. And all the while, the Cardinal’s hands roamed over your body, travelling, gripping, groping, and pulling at your flesh.

He could feel your nipples poking through your robes, the way your hips unknowingly bucked against his hardness, begging for him to ravage you right there. Whimpers had begun to fall from your lips as you lost yourself into the warmth of his body, allowing his own to swallow them and feed him, fuel his desires to have you.

You moaned deliciously when his gloved hand rested on your thigh, pulling the white fabric up to expose your skin, and you truly sounded heavenly when the same thumb that had been in your mouth weeks before, and traced over your lips today, made contact with a sensitive bundle of nerves and you gasped, breaking the kiss and looking into his lustful eyes.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked, his voice gravelly and quiet. You shook your head and it earned a chuckle. “So innocent.” His voice was gentle, filled with a condescension that made your stomach flip. “So neglected. Given a body and not shown how to use it. This is called a clitoris.” He kissed you again and put more pressure on your clit, making you moan a little louder. “When I play with it, I can make you sing. I can make you reach a place more divine than Heaven. Does it feel good, Angel?”

“Yes!” You hissed, your eyebrows furrowing upwards and your mouth falling open. Your nostrils flared as your body tried to take in as much oxygen as it could, especially when the Cardinal picked up the pace and continued to rub circles into your flesh.

“You never touched yourself, have you?” He asked. He knew the answer, so he didn’t expect you to respond. “You should. The beauty of this form is that you can give yourself pleasure whenever you want.” He nibbled at your jaw. “However you want.” Your body tensed. “Virgins are so easy to please. So quick to cum.”

Your toes curled, your back arched, your voice screamed out as your nails dug into the thick fabric of his clothes. His fingers kept working the surface, never dipping inside or changing their speed.

“Can you feel it, Angel?” He asked, licking over your top lip. “The pressure building inside you? Feeling like you’re about to burst open?”

“Y-yes!” Your moans were wanton now, unabashed. You didn’t even think to be quiet, this felt too good to think of anything else.

“When you’re ready, let it happen. Let yourself feel it. Let yourself explode.”

“It’s too m-much!” You cried out, hips bucking of their own accord into the Cardinal’s hand.

“Aw,” he feigned sympathy, “I know, baby. Your first orgasm. Don’t look away from me. Look into my eyes when it happens, okay?”

“Okay-ah!”

It didn’t take much more until your whole body spasmed. You didn’t know what the sensation was, and there was a little fear in your eyes as it first began to take hold of you, freezing your body down to your breath and holding you there. The sensitivity on your clit spread everywhere, to your toes, up to your brain. You could practically taste it on your tongue. All the while, you continued to look into your tormentor’s eyes, mouth agape and lungs fighting for air that left your body long ago.

The Cardinal stared at you the whole time, eyes pinned on your face and studying your reaction to your first orgasm, taking untold pleasures from it.

“How was that?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“G-good.” You replied, breathlessly, eyes closing over.

The Cardinal laughed, something small and new. “Don’t rest on me, yet.” You watched him fumble at his crotch and pull himself out from between the buttons of his cassock, but you didn’t get the chance to see… him.

You felt him rub against your folds, the tip stroking against your clit as he rocked back and forth. Both of you hissed at the contact, for you because of your sensitivity, and for him because he was finally getting some pleasure. He was thick, and heavy, and slid against your folds so well you had to grip onto the desk just because your hands needed something to hold.

Every now and then, you could feel the tip at your entrance where he’d pulled back a little too far, and the first time he did it your eyes shot open in panic. “Not in - ah! - not inside! Please! He’ll s-see.”

The Cardinal groaned, pushing forward involuntarily and sighing at the feeling of your wetness coating him. “I won’t.” He reassured you. “I want to, though.”

“You can’t!”

“I know. You th-think he’s watching, Angel?” The Cardinal chuckled as he picked up the pace. “You think your god is watching one of his angels get - fuck! - ruined by a son of Satan?”

You felt your hole clench around nothing. You shouldn’t - but you did.

“Good,” the Cardinal continued, holding onto your hips to help him use you, “let him see. I want him to see what happens when he neglects his creations. When his creations discover themselves. Fuck, you’re so wet!”

Your back arched further, pressing your hips against him more firmly. You leaned back, allowing your shoulders to hit the wall behind you and rest against the brick, as much as your tied wings would allow anyway. He watched your body jiggling as he rubbed against it, wondering how much more you’d do so when he was thrusting in and out of your virgin hole. He thought about how tight you’d be. He knew a virgin being tight was nothing more than misogynistic propaganda, but he couldn’t help but think about it. He watched your tits bounce with each thrust, and stared at the way your nipples continued to poke through the fabric, begging to be teased and bitten.

“Pinch your nipples.” He ordered.

You moved your hands up to where he wanted them and began to rub over the peaks, pinching them between your thumbs and forefingers and moaning loudly at the sensation - feeling your hole clench around nothing again. Everything he was doing to you, everything he got you to do to yourself, felt exquisite. You understood, now, why you’d watch entire civilisations descend into madness and violence just to feel the warmth of another body in the victorious afterglow. You understood why this would be a celebratory act because you felt nothing but pleasure - a high you’d never experienced before, not even up in Heaven serving the almighty.

The thought should scare you. The fact that you were turning to sin, and had done so so easily should have terrified you beyond belief. But you pinched your nipples harder, crying out as the Cardinal’s cock grazed over your clit for the millionth time, about to reach your second orgasm of the night.

The second one was just as powerful as the first, so earth-shatteringly good your toes curled again and you bit your lip so hard, you could taste your own blood. Your whole body tingled under your touch and his, barely registering his groan before you felt something wet on your pubic mound and dripping down your labia onto the table below you. You sat up and looked, finally seeing him in his entirety. The Cardinal had orgasmed, too, except his was much messier. Your body and his was covered in the whiteness that had spewed from him, and while you didn’t know the name, you knew that it was needed to bring life into the world.

The Cardinal was red-faced and panting from the exertion, as were you. Both of you spent and clear headed.

Clear headed.

Your mind began racing, thinking about what you’d just done. When the passion faded, a flood of contradictory thoughts and emotions swept over you along with a wave of clarity. You noticed the Cardinal’s laboured breathing and his conflicted expression of vulnerability and satisfaction. You realised that what you had just shared was more than just physical pleasure; it was an intimate moment between two creatures who had previously been bound by circumstance and desire.

But as the reality of the situation settled in, so did the weight of guilt and uncertainty. You couldn’t ignore the implications of what had transpired in the wine cellar. Despite the intense connection you had felt in the heat of the moment, you knew deep down that this was not how things were meant to be. You were an angel, a child of the Almighty and a being of righteousness, and he was a vampyre—a man of the cloth, sworn to uphold the debauchery of his Satan’s might.

As soon as the Cardinal’s eyes met yours, you could see the same turmoil in them. He was obviously thinking about the consequences of what you had done. Now that the lines between you had been crossed, you had to deal with the fallout.

When you looked at the potential repercussions of your sin, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret. How would this affect your relationship with him, which was already tense? What about the Sister, who would be furious after learning everything the Cardinal had revealed to you?

What about your God? How disappointed He’d be if He saw you now, nothing more than a whore for the Devil? Giving yourself so willingly to him despite all of the Almighty’s teachings… letting Lucifer into your heart when you should have cast him out.

But in the middle of all of this chaos, there was also a moment of brief relief from the bonds that had held you captive for so long. For a split second, you had given in to lust and accepted the forbidden fruit of passion.

The Cardinal grabbed a serviette from one of the shelves and cleaned you both up, before straightening himself out again. He watched you, saw your demeanour shift back to the wariness you used to have when he first let you out of the cage. You couldn’t ascertain his thoughts, but he knew you were absolutely regretting what had just transpired between you.

One thing became obvious as you sat there, trying to make sense of the tangled mess of emotions whirling inside of you: the relationship between you and the Cardinal would never be the same. The friendship that had been formed in the wine cellar had changed your lives forever, for better or worse. You had no choice but to wait and see where fate would lead you as you faced the uncertain future that lay ahead.

That morning, as you both made your way into his chamber and he’d removed the restraints from your wings, you willingly crawled into your cage, curled up, and hid yourself from his view. You didn’t get much sleep that day.

Prev./Next

[her-satanic-wiles]

Dawn Chorus - VI

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 6.2k.

Reading Time: 25 min.

Warnings: body horror, falling from heights, graphic depictions of thanatophobia, graphic (yet brief) descent into madness, graphic injuries, mentions of death, mentions of conversion therapy, mentions of experimentation on living things, mentions of femicide, mentions of homophobia, mentions of sexual abuse within the church, mentions of stoning, mild sexism, religious disillusionment, religious trauma, slut shaming

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @dolceterzo @whitepawfics @howlingco @sirianisrock

🔞 MDNI 🔞

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

“It burned down!?”

Your lamenting voice howled through the eaves of the Cardinal’s room, laced with so much shock, you had to place the pages on the floor and stare at the Cardinal. He was sat at his desk, typing on his computer (a device he taught you about after your trip to the library, but he never let you touch). He was in his pajamas and robe again, hair freshly tousled from a day of sleep, and face entirely free of make up, stubble present on his chin where he hadn’t shaved and felt no inclination to. The Cardinal laughed - laughed at your sorrow upon learning the Library of Alexandria had been destroyed in the early 1st Century after the birth of Yeshua.

You saw the Cardinal’s shoulders shake as he cackled at your misfortune, turning to look at you with mirth in his eyes. The tragedy was far enough away from him that it didn’t bother him, but to you it was devastating.

“How could thou laugh in such a moment?” You asked, much more stressed than before.

“Now, now, Angel,” the Cardinal said, his tone still lighthearted but showing a sense of underlying warning, “you forget yourself.”

You sighed and pouted, looking down at the floor. “It doth grieve me sorely. Who would commit such a deed?”

“Christians.”

Your stomach dropped and you looked back up at him. “I beg your pardon?”

He nodded, “Christians. Well, there’s no proof but, Christianity was rising at the time, and they’d gone on a warpath, so to speak. And while there’s no proof they did it, doesn’t mean they didn’t do it. Christianity has done a lot to the human race since you left, and they’ve caused a lot of hurt and destruction, and now the people in the highest positions of power are using Christianity and Catholicism as a way to control the masses and exert their power, even today.

“They were particularly rowdy in the 4th and 5th Centuries, though,” he continued, “when the religion became more popular and spread amongst the people. Thousands of people died, mostly women, because the ‘pagan’ lives they lived were sinful and they needed to be stopped. A woman couldn’t be in control of her own body, feel her own sexuality. She must be oppressed.”

“Hypatia.” You muttered.

You remembered hearing about her death what felt like a short time ago, but according to the Cardinal, it happened over 1,000 years ago. Hypatia was the smartest woman of her time - a genius among men. It was sold to you in Heaven that a rogue group of His children stoned her to death for conspiracies against the Almighty, but you never learned the specifics. After all the questioning you’d done thus far, it dawned on you in that moment that maybe her death was unjustified just as your exile was from Heaven.

The Cardinal spoke again, “Jezebel, Venus, even Mary Magdalene.”

Your mouth widened. “Not Mary.”

“Yes, Mary. They look at her like a common whore, and not the wife of Jesus. They don’t revere her as she deserves.”

“This is not what the Almighty had ordained.”

The Cardinal shrugged. “Well, it’s what happened. That Bible you took from the library is riddled with vile hatred and disgust. Leviticus 18:22: ‘Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination.’”

You furrowed your brow. “That seems amiss. The Almighty would never have decreed such a judgment.”

It was true, he never explicitly said anything of the sort. You knew firsthand that even Yeshua dabbled in… well… love in all its forms. Everyone knew, but no one talked about it. You found it difficult to believe that the Almighty would condemn his own son to Hell, just because he loved everyone equally.

“It was changed, do you know what from?” The Cardinal asked.

You shook your head.

“‘Man shall not lie with young boys as he does with women.’ It’s pretty interesting that Leviticus was changed like that when the clergy of the Church were starting to get reported on their inappropriate behaviour with children.”

A flash of recognition appeared in your eyes, and the Cardinal caught it.

“You know about that?” He had his full attention on you now, and you could feel the tension bubbling under the surface.

You swallowed, “I did so. And I did question the archangels. And now I am present in this place.” Answering honestly was the only way you felt like he wouldn’t hurt you. His gaze was steely and harsh, but softened a little when he heard your words.

“They kicked you out for it?”

You nodded. “It was the third occasion I dared to query the Almighty. They intended to cast me into the Abyss, hence I fled and stumbled into thy garden. And then thou…” you trailed off and caught the guilt that flooded the Cardinal’s face. You cleared your throat, “Thou didst subject me to all manner of torment, and at times I found myself yearning for the Abyss.”

“You never told me about this.” He said, quietly.

“Thou never inquired - thou was consumed with querying me regarding His designs and how to govern me. And, truth be told, I know not why I am disclosing this to thee now.”

“Well,” he sighed and stood, “you’re not out of the woods yet. So don’t go feeling comfortable.” And with that, he walked away.

There was a sadness to his voice that hadn’t been there before, and you found yourself wondering why it was there in the first place. Your stomach dropped at the realisation, though, that whatever torment you’d faced before, you’d face again. Would it be at the Cardinal’s hand? Would he be the one to administer the blows despite the kindness he’d shown you since he crossed that boundary? Or was it the Sister who wanted so desperately to hurt you? You couldn’t fathom that the Cardinal still hadn’t told her about his discovery. You knew that he’d even hidden the book from her, but you couldn’t understand why.

Your conversation with the Cardinal had left you feeling less than resolved about your position with the Almighty, and worse, with His children. Until now, you were sure His children were innocents in comparison to the clergymen who’d abused their station, but there was something gnawing away at you now that told you the rest of His children sounded just as bad as the ones in charge of His words. But, you didn’t know who could be trusted.

The Cardinal had stolen you, hurt you in unimaginable ways, imprisoned you inhumanely, drained you of your blood to the brink of death for his own enjoyment and consummation, and followed Lucifer, echoing his calls for the dark and becoming a mirror of Lucifer’s hatred for the Almighty. Perhaps he was mistaken? Lead astray by an evildoer with an ulterior motive. Perhaps he could be redeemed, and cured of his vampyrism? But why were you concerned with his soul when he’d done so much to you? His kindness wasn’t without reason - a person couldn’t change that quickly with no reason to. And you were sure he wasn’t trying to better himself on your account. And after Thomas…

But what if he was telling the truth? What if the Lord’s children were simply acting on the Creator’s wishes, doing what they’d been bidden just as you had? As though they weren’t in control of themselves just as you weren’t.

The scariest part was that you were beginning to see things from Lucifer’s perspective. You were starting to understand why he did what he did, falling so far from grace and establishing his own rules within the mortal realm, gaining more and more followers than he ever had just by merely existing. Thomas had told you the Satanic Church hadn’t needed to advertise in the same way the Catholics and Christians did - they just simply existed, and did so peacefully. It was the Christians who did all the advertising for them, and pushing their own people into Lucifer’s arms, and now you knew it was all the oppression they faced.

Those who followed in Yeshua’s footsteps, who loved unconditionally, as humans were programmed to do, were shunned from society, turned out onto the streets by their own families, subjected to torture to ‘cure’ them from a condition that never ailed them in the first place. And, in more extreme cases, they were imprisoned and executed for their ‘crimes’ and ‘indecency’, despite the fact that the son of the Lord they followed was hailed, praised and revered for the love he showed his brothers - and the people who surrounded him.

It was this revelation that helped you see the irony: the Satanists were more closely following the teachings of Yeshua than the Catholics and Christians were, who were the ones that held him in the highest regard. It was this revelation that made you see that if Yeshua were alive today, he’d have been killed or thrown out before he reached his thirtieth year; and it terrified you.

You sighed, your mind ached with the thoughts that were swirling around inside it. Your stomach churned with the notion that God’s creations were straying more and more into the path of evil than of righteousness, despite their hard work to get into the Kingdom of Heaven after they died. You felt woozy and weak, as though you were plagued with a sickness that incapacitated you. This existential spiral you found yourself falling into began because you learned your favourite library had burned to the ground, and perhaps at the hands of early Christians, and the Cardinal hadn’t even bothered to tell you why. You lay down on the floor, your wings cocooning you like they had when you were trapped in the cage, and curled in on yourself, trying to bring yourself a semblence of comfort despite your mind creating turmoil inside itself, the disappointment and shame eating away at you until you wondered if anything was left.

You slept; you didn’t know how long for, only that daylight was pouring into the room underneath the thick curtains when you woke, and you felt so, so cold. You stood and stretched, feeling a little off-kilter as you reached your full height. You stretched your wings out, too, trying desperately to shake the ache out of the muscles. They felt heavier than normal today. Angel wings were heavy given their size, practically spanning the entire length of your body and even dragging a little on the floor.

You wandered into the Cardinal’s room, silently staring at him as he slept; tucked up in his bed and barely visible beneath the sheets. You didn’t know why you came in, but you were there now. Your eyes roamed over the room and landed on the curtains. You could do it… you could open them and send him back down to his creator where he belonged. You could bathe the room in sunlight and watch him burn to death.

You didn’t think, you just walked over to the curtains and placed both of your hands on the fabric as it met in the middle. You looked over at him, his wrinkled face pressed up against the pillowcase as he slept peacefully, unaware that he was in mortal danger from his pet who’d finally worked herself up to bite back. You lifted the corner, and a trickle of sunlight poured into the room.

Do it.

Your arms froze.

Why are you hesitating? Do it!

It didn’t matter how much you tried to pull the curtains back and flood the room with the warmth of the sun, you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t bring yourself to move at all, let alone even push the curtains back in their place.

“My Lord,” you said under your breath, “grant me Thy strength, that I may vanquish the wicked, cast him back into Hell where he rightfully belongs. Permit me to undertake this task for Thee, to repent, to atone for my transgressions, and to welcome me into Thy grace, where my true calling lies.”

You longed to feel His light envelop you and give you the strength to complete the task at hand, but it didn’t matter how much you prayed, how much of your energy you devoted to Him, He never answered your call. The part of you that still believed in His worthiness told yourself that this was your true punishment: to live with the monster who treated you like an animal despite the kindness that lay beneath the surface, the monster who hurt and betrayed you as if his life depended on it with no concept of your own thoughts, feelings and emotions until he took it a step too far out of his own comfort zone. A monster who did it once, and would willingly do it all again if his previous comment was to be taken seriously.

You’re not out of the woods yet. So don’t go feeling comfortable.

Those words echoed in your mind like the haunting melodies of the church hymns you’d sang to yourself while you were alone in the Cardinal’s apartments, sending shivers up and down your spine and instilling a low-lying sense of fear within your gut. You could end it all now, you should end it all now. You were born a killing machine for the Lord, so this was nothing new. And yet, the hesitation and the lack of movement felt too much to bear in your clouded mind, and before you knew it, you took a step back, letting go of the thick curtains and staring at your hands in disbelief.

The old you wouldn’t have hesitated. The old you would have sent him to the very pits of Hell and told yourself that justice was served. But how could there be justice when the judge ignored the case, and left the prosecution and defendant to rot in the courthouse together until a solution was reached outside of the law? The old you would have acted on her feelings, but the old you died when she fell from Heaven, and was kidnapped by a crazy vampyre with an angel blood addiction.

When the Cardinal woke, he found you sat in the armchair in front of your cage, eyes wide and distant. The chair had been turned to face the cage that held your halo in it, and your eyes were fixed on the part of your body that you’d not touched since your escape. You didn’t move, nor blink, nor acknowledge him when he spoke to you. You just stared with a vacant expression at the one part of you that you could see but not touch. No poking, prodding, or waving his hand in front of your eyes could get you to look at him, or snap out of your trance.

He stood back and thought for a moment, his own inner turmoil eating away at him. Though, you’d never see it. The half of him that listened to the Sister told him to just leave you be, that it didn’t matter if you were broken because maybe you’d be more useful. But he’d grown soft in the time he’d spent with you, and for some reason, it pained him to see you like this.

He stormed through his room, pulling open his bedside drawer and moving stacks of papers out of the way to get to Lorenzo Giovanni’s book, knowing that there would be something in there to explain what this was. He opened the spine and flicked through the pages, skim-reading bulks of text to try and find the information he needed. With each page he turned, and with each passage that he waded through, he began to lose his patience. How could something so crucial take so long to find? Surely it would have its own dedicated chapter?

Eventually, he found what he was looking for:

‘Angels who have been deprived of their halos for extended durations enter a frenzied state in a final endeavour to safeguard their lives. An angel bereft of their halo, with every passing moment, diminishes in their Holy Light. They need not eat nor drink like mere mortals, rather, Holy Light is what sustains an angel’s vitality and vigour. Although an angel may endure without their halo, they must replenish their Light regularly to prevent wasting away and perishing.

‘However, an angel possessing their halo is robust and can only be subdued by metal forged in the fires of Hell. The chamber in which I studied this was imbued with such material, from the nails in the floor to the very structure of the room. Yet, even as I restored the angel’s halo, I persisted in keeping them restrained, as a precaution to safeguard my life and my research. It effectively subdued the angel, allowing me to remove the halo once their Light had been replenished. Take heed, denizens of the nocturnal realm. My infernal assistant met his demise when he gazed into the angel’s eyes, for the brilliance of the Holy Light proved overpowering for one of such lowly station.’

The Cardinal thought back to that time when you’d asked him for your halo, and how he’d denied your request. At the time, he assumed that you were just hoping to get your halo back and make a run for it - he didn’t realise that you were losing your strength. He’d read this book a while ago, but hardly any of the information retained in his brain because… why would it? He never thought he’d meet an angel let alone capture one. Yet there you were, going manic in his chair because you were, in essence, on your last legs.

He grabbed some Hellfire chains and tied you to the chair as best as he could, trying to make absolutely sure that you weren’t going to escape, or worse, kill him. When he was prepared, he unlocked the cage that your halo sat in, noticing the light had dwindled significantly in comparison to when he first saw it all those nights ago, and once his gloves were securely in place, he carefully took it in his hands and brought it over to you. He didn’t know what to do because Giovanni didn’t say in his book… conveniently. So instead he just placed your halo on your head and took many steps back and hid behind his open door. He wasn’t a low-level Hell dweller by any stretch of the imagination, but he was sensitive to light, and wasn’t willing to risk death.

Nothing happened.

He peered round the wood to look at you and was about to leave his hiding spot when suddenly the room filled with a great, white light, so bright it had him hide behind the door immediately. Everything he owned was bathed within your holy light, so much so it felt like his eyes were an over-exposed camera taking outdoor shots. He could barely make out the grain details on the door in front of him, and it was only a few centimetres away from his nose.

He wasn’t sure if it was actual pain, or just his imagination playing tricks on him, but he could swear he felt his skin prickle at the brightness, a light burn as if he’d been stung by oil when cooking. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to avoid his retinas burning out of his eye sockets, not that he knew that would happen, but, for the first time in a very long time, he was scared. It wasn’t so much death that scared him, he’d died before. He remembered the way his body went numb as the vampyric venom engulfed his cells and shut every single unnecessary one down; the way his body convulsed as his blood heated and his stomach withered and blackened; the ache in his bones as his body weight drastically fluctuated from dead muscle to resuscitated, all within the hour.

He remembered how he watched the same thing happen to his mother.

No, it wasn’t death itself he was afraid of, more like the method in which he met his permanent end. He knew how dangerous angels could be to creatures of the night such as himself, how a single tear could burn through his skin like holy water did. Not to mention the weakness to light, holy light included. You were a killing machine, despite your protests, and there were a number of ways you could ensure his death, effortlessly in some cases. You terrified him, yet thrilled him. Like a charmer playing with a poisonous snake, like adrenaline junkies jumping from planes.

You were too weak when you first met to be considered a true threat - but now your Holy Light had returned… now you were a potential threat.

Everything felt different when you opened your eyes, blinking the light out of them. Your body was mended, bones strong and muscles sharp and ready to move at a moment’s notice. Your mind was clear… well, clearer than it had been. You felt whole, complete, normal.

You surveyed the room with newfound clarity, your vision unobstructed by the haze of weakness that had clouded your senses before. When you listened, you could hear things happening from kilometres away, you could hear the wind rustling through the trees outside as though you were standing directly beneath them. You could smell the food cooking in the kitchens below, despite them being nowhere near your room. You could even smell the honey that was created in the hives outside. The familiar tinkling of your halo distracted you, and you almost panicked when you looked to the cage to find your halo was missing, only to realise it was currently on your head.

You tried to fight against the chains, but the Hellfire burned with each movement, you had to stop.

The Cardinal cowered behind the door, his fear palpable in the air. It amused you, the contrast between his bravado and vulnerability now laid bare. You could smell him, taste the fear that bubbled up in his chest, hear his heart rhythmically pumping as the sweat began to form on his brow. It wasn’t until the entirety of your holy light had dissipated, you finally saw him poke his head around the edge of the door. His eyes were trained on your halo, and kept flickering between it and other parts of your body, wary of looking you in your eyes. This time, you weren’t stupid. This time you knew why he dodged your eyes, and knew it would be that way for a while until he felt safe enough to challenge you again. You felt powerful, yet you were entirely unable to do anything about it.

The Cardinal walked over to you and immediately removed your halo from your head, practically throwing it back into the cage. Not a single word was uttered and it didn’t need to be - but when the door to your own cage opened, you knew you would be in there for some time.

Days passed, and the Cardinal didn’t return home for the majority of them. Again, you didn’t know where he was, just that he was avoiding you for fear of his own life. The notion that he was scared sat well with you, to the point where you were almost content being caged.

Almost.

The amount of time you’d spent out of it, free and happy had allowed you to taste somewhat what you used to have. The anger that bubbled inside of you was terrifying, even for you. Each passing second simply added to your frustration, and your imprisonment served as a continual reminder of your powerlessness. You yearned to be free of the cage that held you, to unleash the full might of your divine strength on those who had harmed you. But try as you may, the Hellfire-forged bars remained solid, their scorching heat acting as a harsh barrier to any attempts at escape.

Despite your rage and fury, a spark of resolution flickered within you. You refused to give in to despair and accept your fate as imposed by others. No, you promised to recapture your independence, to break free from the chains that held you back and establish a new way ahead. And, while the Cardinal may have believed he ruled over or underestimated you, he would soon realise his grievous mistake. For you were more than simply an angel; you were a force to be reckoned with, a being of unrivalled strength and resilience. Especially now that you had your strength back.

As the Cardinal eventually entered the room, his demeanour revealed a sense of sheepishness that contrasted sharply with his normal confidence. His eyes darted anxiously about the room, avoiding direct contact with yours, as if he was afraid of what he may discover. Despite his best efforts to appear collected, he radiated an unmistakable air of unease.

You looked at him with a mixture of wonder and caution, unsure what to make of his unexpected return. You’d had plenty of time to stew in your wrath and resentment during your seclusion, and now that you were back in the Cardinal’s company, you were conflicted between a desire for vengeance and a cautious hope for peace.

The Cardinal cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling his feet as he approached your cage. His hands fidgeted nervously at his sides, betraying the inner turmoil that churned beneath his composed exterior. It was clear that he had something to say, yet finding the right words seemed to elude him.

After a moment of tense silence, he finally spoke, his voice tinged with an unfamiliar vulnerability. “You can come out now.”

With a grateful nod, you acknowledged his gesture and took a step forward, loving the sudden freedom that engulfed you like a warm embrace. The air seemed crisper outside your prison, and you spread your wings, savouring the rush of freedom that ran through your veins.

As you stepped out of the cage, the weight of confinement lifted off your shoulders, you couldn’t help but notice the Cardinal’s refusal to meet your eyes. His avoidance of eye contact communicated volumes, exposing a vulnerability rarely seen in the powerful person before you. “Will thou not cast thine eyes upon me?”

He looked at you, if only briefly, before looking away again. “Sister Imperator wants to try the second ritual this week during the full moon.” He told you.

But as you returned your attention to the Cardinal, you couldn’t ignore the tension that hovered in the air between you. His comments concerning (who you assumed to be) the Sister’s plans for the next ceremony just added to the severity of the situation, reminding you of the dangerous balance that existed within the Satanic Church.

“I understand,” you said evenly, your tone laced with resignation. Despite your unwillingness to embrace the truth of your situation, you understood Sister Imperator’s intentions were not to be underestimated. The notion of another ceremony made you nervous, but you knew you had no choice but to comply with her requests. “Dost thou not desire it to come to pass?”

“I’ll need some more of your blood before the second ritual,” he said, closing the cage behind you and making a move, “but now that you’re fully healed, we have time.”

“What doth the second rite entail?”

He didn’t answer, another question he chose to dodge.

You sighed, “Would thou permit me to partake in at least one flight until then?”

“One. Tomorrow. But you take a few ghouls up with you to make sure you don’t escape.”

You nodded, reluctantly accepting the Cardinal’s requirements. Despite the constraints imposed on you, the idea of a single flight provided a ray of hope amid the oppressive confines of your imprisonment.

As the Cardinal exited the room, leaving you alone once more, you couldn’t help but feel a sensation of unease creeping along the borders of your consciousness. His elusive comments and hidden plans further added to your suspicions, leading you to wonder about the true nature of the second ceremony and your part in carrying it out.

In reality, you knew what the second ritual entailed, but you wanted him to tell you. It was the ritual of temptation. They would orchestrate scenarios designed to appeal to your desires and weaknesses, tempting you to stray from the path of righteousness. Through manipulation and deceit, they would slowly lead you down a darker path, enticing you with promises of power and gratification. But there was a part of you that wondered what they’d use to tempt you so much as to complete their goal. You didn’t want anything enough to be tempted. Except… your freedom.

Would they really gamble the possibility of letting you go free in order to get what they wanted? Quite possibly.

The next day arrived. The thought of flying dangled before you like a tantalising treasure, and you eagerly awaited the set hour, your excitement growing with each passing moment. When the time came, the Cardinal returned to his chambers with a retinue of ghouls waiting to accompany you on your little excursion.

You followed the Cardinal outside, the cold breeze caressing your feathers and rousing your soul’s need for freedom. A wave of unease passed over you as you readied yourself to take off and saw the Cardinal fastening another chain around your wrists. The weight of the metal seemed like an anchor, straining at your spirits and serving as a sharp reminder of the restrictions that still held you back, even in the middle of your newfound happiness.

“This is an extra precaution,” the Cardinal told you, “just in case.”

You scoffed, offended. “Thinkest thou I would soar without my halo?”

“This was the only way I could get Imperator to agree,” the Cardinal responded, his voice much more curt and annoyed, “take it or leave it.”

“Fine.” You huffed.

With a deep breath, you unfurled your wings and launched yourself into the air, relishing the sensation of weightlessness as you soared through the sky. For a blissful moment, you allowed yourself to forget the constraints of your captivity, losing yourself in the exhilarating freedom of flight. The world below stretched out before you, a vast tapestry of earth and sky unfolding in all directions. You barely noticed the two ghouls that flew alongside you, their enlarged bat wings flapping quickly to keep up with you.

With each tremendous beat of your wings, you felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, propelling you higher and higher into the limitless expanse of the sky. The weight of your worldly concerns vanished as you soared through the air, supported by the gentle currents that took you upward.

As you ascended, the earth below seemed to fade away, its wide expanse unfolding beneath you like a sprawling canvas painted in green and gold. The distant horizon beckoned with the promise of adventure, while the vast expanse of sky stretched out in front of you like a limitless playground, asking you to explore every corner.

As you danced among the clouds, you felt a sense of lightness flood over you, as if the essence of your being had been liberated from its earthly confines. Each inhalation filled your lungs with the crisp, clean air of the sky, giving you a renewed sense of vitality and purpose.

The landscape took on a dreamy character, your senses heightened by the pure exhilaration of freedom. The wind whispered sweet nothings in your ears as it danced through your feathers, while the sun showered your skin in golden light, filling you with warmth and contentment.

Beside you, the two ghouls flew with effortless grace, their bat-like wings beating in perfect harmony with your own. Together, you formed a symphony of motion, a testament to the boundless beauty and majesty of the natural world.

For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to forget the trials and tribulations that awaited you on the ground below, losing yourself in the timeless ecstasy of flight. In that moment, you were truly free, unbound by the constraints of your captivity, and liberated by the boundless expanse of the sky.

As you basked in the joy of flying, you couldn’t help but notice a slight but unsettling tremor in your wings. At first, you ignored it as a passing sensation, a blip in your otherwise immaculate performance. However, as you continued to soar into the sky, your shaking became more severe, causing your wings to waver and stutter with greater frequency.

It had been so long since you last flew, so long since you properly used your wings. And like most things in the human body, you either use it or lose it. You’d never gone this long without taking flight, didn’t know that your wings would become unused to the constant flapping and carrying your weight. You tried to push passed the feeling, tried to force your wings to get used to it.

However, with each wavering flutter of your wings, a flood of fear clutched your heart, threatening to shatter the illusion of freedom that had surrounded you. You battled to stay aloft, fighting the inevitable pull of gravity that threatened to bring you back down to earth.

For a little while, doubt entered your head, clouding your thoughts with uncertainty. Had you been too acclimated to the constraints of your imprisonment, too dependent on the security of solid earth beneath your feet? Was it only a matter of time before your feeble wings regained their power and resilience?

As you reluctantly chose to descend, a gnawing sense of unease gnawed at the borders of your awareness. Despite your best efforts to ignore your mounting anxiety, a foreboding sensation of dread hung over you like a suffocating blanket.

The trembling in your wings were more noticeable with each passing instant, sending waves of panic through your veins. You could feel the muscles in your wings spasm and cramp, a stinging pain piercing your body with each faltering beat.

Desperation clawed at your chest as you struggled to keep control, but it was a losing battle against the never-ending barrage of pain and tiredness. Tears of frustration clouded your eyes as you tried to maintain your altitude, turning your once elegant flight into a sloppy, unpredictable plummet.

In a heartbreaking moment of terror, you stretched out to the nearest ghoul, your shaking hand urgently searching for help. Despite your best efforts, your fingers fell short, gripping only empty air as you plunged to the ground below.

Time appeared to slow to a halt as you hurtled towards the ground, the wind blowing passed your ears in a deafening roar. In that quick instant, you felt tremendous sadness mixed with the sharp sting of failure, your mind casting back to the last time you fell so far, your body on fire and screaming as you were cast out of Heaven. You were reminded of the mob that chased you, the pain that covered you as you made contact with the ground, and the horrors that followed. You could feel your chest and throat vibrating - you must have been screaming, though you couldn’t hear that. Just the wind.

You crashed with the hard dirt with a terrible thud, sending a searing shock of pain through your body. The blow took the breath out of your lungs, leaving you gasping for oxygen as darkness threatened to devour you.

Through the veil of pain and disorientation, you could just hear the ghouls’ frantic yells as they hurried to your side, their voices reverberating in the back of your mind. But it was too late: the damage had been done, and you were left to face the brutal truth of your unsuccessful flight.

As the ghouls swiftly removed your damaged body from the ground, their hands soft yet forceful, you could feel the scorching heat of your tears scalding your cheeks, a bitter memory of the misery that had consumed your body. Each movement sent a spike of anguish through your limbs, an unrelenting assault that threatened to overpower your senses.

Your cries rang through the air, creating a terrible melody of anguish and sorrow that broke the silence of the surrounding environment. Sweat beaded your forehead along with tears, a sign of the severe mental and physical anguish you were going through.

In the chaos of the moment, none noticed as the tear landed upon the exposed skin of one of the ghouls, a faint sizzle accompanied by a sharp hiss of pain.

The ghoul recoiled in agony, clutching at the burned patch of skin where your tear had made contact. The area reddened and blistered almost instantly, the intense heat searing through flesh and leaving behind a trail of charred tissue. With a guttural cry, the injured ghoul let go of you and stumbled backward, his features contorted in pain beneath his mask as he struggled to compose himself.

The other ghouls looked at their injured friend with concern, their gaze bouncing between him and you as they tried to process what had just happened. The air became tight, filled with unsaid questions and anxiety as they exchanged uneasy glances, yet they still continued to drag you inside, this time making sure their skin was hidden beneath their clothes.

In the faint light of the Cardinal’s apartments, you lay on the cold stone floor, your body tortured with pain as your limbs gradually healed. Each passing instant felt like an eternity as you waited for the agony to end, a silent plea for relief that went unanswered.

And you were overcome with a sense of dread that covered you like a heavy blanket as you lay there in the strange silence of the chamber. The events of the day weighed heavily on your soul, putting a cloud of doubt over your future and forcing you to confront the brutal reality of your own weakness.

Prev./Next

[her-satanic-wiles]

Dawn Chorus - IX

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 6k.

Reading Time: 24 min.

Warnings: biting, cunnilingus, dry humping, face sitting, mentions of fellatio, mentions of rape, mild degradation, nipple play, praise kink, protected sex, spit as lube, vaginal sex

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @dolceterzo @whitepawfics @howlingco @sirianisrock @amaridelphi @katiegvf

🔞 MDNI 🔞

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

If you thought that spending time with the Cardinal and having his mouth between your legs would help you in any way, it turned out that you were wrong. You learned that you had no self-control when it came to sex, obsessed with it to the point where it was damn near all-consuming, that you found yourself instigating things between yourself and the Cardinal. More often than not, you’d wake up in the evening next to him and would climb on top of his face (as per his invitation), and start your night with a powerful orgasm, and your hands clutching in his messy hair.

The Cardinal would get off with your body, too. Sometimes you’d help him with your mouth, a skill you were getting better and better at each time, other times your hands, thighs, breasts, the outside of your core - any part of your body he could wrap his cock in, he would. You did everything… except the thing you’d begged him for a while ago. But it didn’t matter to you - not while he was happily servicing you in the way you needed him.

You had also been allowed total access to the rest of the Ministry at this point, with a ghoul guard. Your ghoul, you learned, was Aurora. She was happy and bright, very bubbly. She became like a friend to you, showing you around the Ministry, taking you to places you’d not seen before, even bringing you down to the wine cellar to meet the ghouls who lived down there - something you had no idea was a thing, especially after your first incident with the Cardinal. Under Aurora’s guidance, you tried human food for the first time, and enjoyed everything the chefs offered you during their night shift. It was quiet that night, which meant you could hold conversations with them, too.

Aurora took you to the library, where you were able to return your books and get new ones, and she eventually recommended some books to you after conversations you’d had together. It turned out, some of the books she’d recommended to you were, as she said, “smutty”. But despite your initial shock, you could feel yourself growing wetter and wetter as your eyes scanned the page, and your brain ingested the printed filth.

Aurora emphasised that you shouldn’t take those books too seriously, that they weren’t reflective of real pleasure. But it did teach you a lot about what human desire meant, and what they wanted during sex. Why the Cardinal asked you to talk to him as he used his tongue on you. You read about how good the act itself could be, how magical it felt, and wanted to feel it for yourself. But, both of you were hesitant to take the leap and just go for it, to show you the thing you’d been missing out on for millennia. His doubts also kept you both moving slowly, neither of you completely sure that it was the right move to make despite how desperate you both were for it, holding off and holding off until there was an unquestionable feeling in both of your guts that was completely undeniable, and felt like the best time.

Life at the Ministry became easy. And you almost couldn’t quite believe that you were about to say this but, life became safe. You had a freedom that you never felt before. You were finally experiencing what life was like governing your own body and mind. You read what you wanted, when you wanted. Sure, you were a house pet, but you had more autonomy now than you ever did in Heaven. Each night seemed to blur into the next, and yet, there was a strange comfort in the predictability of it all.

There was still a persistent feeling of unease deep down, even with your newfound sense of freedom and safety. It was there, waiting in the shadows of your conscious mind to remind you of the journey you’d been on, and the desires you still carried inside. You tried to clean the guilt, but it remained like a stubborn stain that would not go away.

It was impossible to escape the sensation that every immoral indulgence, every improper meeting with the Cardinal, was a betrayal of your divine essence. It was a never-ending tug-of-war that left you feeling torn and confused between your natural sense of righteousness and your carnal desires.

And the Sister remained in the background, looming over you both with an angry eye, waiting like a cobra for the opportune moment to strike. The Cardinal - Copia, came home every morning a little more stressed than before, yet he wouldn’t tell you why. But it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together and realise that the Sister was mounting the pressure, and making threats again. The last time you heard them argue, you saw the look on his face as he stormed back into the room, and every day since, he wore that same expression.

With growing concern, you noted Copia’s subtle changes in demeanour. You had been living a peaceful life in the Ministry, but Sister Imperator’s ominous presence loomed large in the air. A tangible sense of unease that descended upon the corridors of power like a mist with every day seemed to add another layer of tension.

You tried to keep up a front of normalcy, but there was always a sense of impending disaster lurking in the background of your mind. The tense dynamic between Copia and Sister Imperator served as a continual reminder of the precarious power dynamics inside the Ministry—a precarious dance rife with covert plans and unspoken intentions.

“Do you wish to communicate?” You’d asked one morning when he came home. You were already tucked up in bed, in the thinnest of white, nightgowns and waiting for him.

He’d sat on his side of the bed, removed his socks and began getting himself ready to join you. “It won’t do any good,” he told you.

Still you persisted. “I read in one of the books in the library that communication is good for mental health.”

“And sometimes talking about it can make it worse.” His tone was much sharper than usual.

“The book didn’t say-”

“Angel!” Now he’d snapped, anger bubbling under his skin. He didn’t mean to raise his voice to you, but he was just so frustrated, he couldn’t help it. He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees, and rubbing his face with his hands. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “I pushed.”

He sat quiet for a moment, looking at his hands. His left thumb came to rub over his right palm, rubbing over the skin as if he was soothing an ache. “She’s going on and on about the third ritual. It’s going to happen this full moon, regardless of my tricks.” His voice became small. “Regardless of whether you’re conscious or not.”

You thought for a moment. “Remind me, what is the third ritual?”

“The Ritual of Desecration.”

“You would defile me?”

Copia nodded. “Me or a ghoul.”

You laughed a little. “Have you not done that already?”

That comment earned you a small chuckle in response; a titter, if you will. “Sadly, no. I’d have to fuck you properly during the ritual.”

“What would happen if I was already defiled?”

Copia tensed. “You’re still a virgin, though. It doesn’t matter.”

“But, what if?”

“We could perform the ritual without your virginity, but it wouldn’t be as powerful. We could defile your halo, I suppose… but that would be lethal. She wouldn’t risk it.”

“So my virginity is the problem?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but-”

“Yes?”

He nodded.

“Well then,” you pushed the comforter back and got yourself comfortable, spreading your legs and letting your nightgown fall up your thighs, “let’s make it difficult for her.”

Copia looked at your exposed cunt, gulped, then looked back at you, eyes wide and pupils blown. It didn’t take much to get him going, but even with the thought of defiling you, he still couldn’t let himself dive straight in. “You’re not ready… the pressure…”

“Would you rather take me on the floor of the Basilica?” you asked. “With everyone watching? Where anyone else could have me, instead?”

“No.”

You reached forward and took his hand, kissed it, then began trailing it up your thigh to your centre. “I want it, Copia. I want to feel you.”

“Say it again.”

“Say what?”

“My name.”

You inhaled, your body tingling under his gaze. “I want you, Copia.”

He simply nodded in response. His movements, from then on, were frantic yet slow, as if he was still giving you time to change your mind. His lips attached to yours quickly, his body pinning yours to the mattress despite him hovering above you at a comfortable distance. You wondered how he’d be when he didn’t hold himself back, if he’d still show the same amount of restraint as he showed you then.

He’d fed before he kissed you - you could taste the iron on his tongue. It didn’t taste like your blood… and that shouldn’t have made you flutter in the way that it did.

He lowered his hips to yours, his jeans creating a rough surface to cover your centre. It didn’t feel amazing at first, but it was the thought that he was too desperate to stop that kept your wetness flowing, and your own hips moving against his, chasing a pleasure that built the more you moved. All the while, small grunts left his mouth, only to be swallowed by yours.

When his lips left yours, he let them wander around your body, kissing his way down and down. He lingered at your neck, exactly where your pulse point was and where he’d sank his teeth into you the very first time. You could feel the tips of his fangs as he bore them, debating whether to dive into your neck and indulge himself, but the kiss he left there instead was enough to remind you that he wasn’t the same person he was when you met him.

He laved over your clothed nipples, licking over the fabric of your nightgown just to tease you, to spite you, to play with you. It earned him a moan, and a small “yes” falling from your lips.

He travelled the expanse of your body until he reached your exposed clit, his journey coming to an end at the first suckle of the bundle of nerves that, before he’d touched it, was screaming for stimulation. Stimulation he was more than happy to give you.

He kissed you exactly where you desired him. He stuck out his tongue, lapping over your clit the way you loved him to, making you scream for him as it swirled and danced over your flesh. Your body moved instinctively, hands flying to his hair, digits locking into his hair and your back arching off the bed entirely. Copia charged in, his tongue twirling wildly around your tender spot and sucking every now and then to get those angelic sounds out of your mouth. Hips against his tongue, chasing your pleasure while riding his face, as you had grown used to doing.

“O-oh!” you exclaimed, hand tightening on his head. “Fuck.”

Copia chuckled and pulled back, replacing his tongue with his thumb temporarily. “And where did you learn that word, Angel?” he asked, grinning. You looked down at him.

“A b-book,” you stuttered, trying to breathe.

“No textbook you normally read would use a word like that. What’s Aurora been teaching you?”

You gasped when he increased the pressure on your clit, his thumb moving in circles. “Sh-she showed me fiction.”

He tutted, feigning disappointment. The sound went straight to your cunt, increasing the pleasure. “Smutty fiction, hm? Corrupting my innocent angel with filth.”

“Y-you corr-uh! Corrupted me fi-irst.”

From his place between your legs, you saw a smile form against your skin that was pure, unbridled happiness like you’d never seen Copia wear. His eyes gleamed with pride, sparkling with the joy of knowing that he had corrupted an angel, until she had become insatiably hungry for pleasures she’d never even dreamed of until this moment. He bore his teeth, and playfully nipped at your thigh, causing no pain, but coupled with the feeling of his thumb on your clit, sent a shock wave of gratification through you.

“P-pride is a sin, you know,” you teased, despite your words being interrupted by your own whimpers.

Copia chuckled, giving another nip to your skin. “You’re in no position to talk to me about sinning when you so willingly spread your legs for me - when you’re offering yourself to me on a silver platter.”

“F-feels good,” you all but whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’m gonna make you feel even better though, Angel. You ready?”

“Yes.”

Your brain was preparing you for the stretch of his cock, and so you lay back onto the pillows and tensed for the intrusion, but there wasn’t anything like that at all. There was a slight pressure to your hole, and you felt something small push inside with no resistance or pain whatsoever, and so you looked back down at Copia. His eyes were trained on your centre, and the hand that was occupied with your clit had now bunched up into a fist, save the middle finger which was now inside you, gently thrusting in and out.

“How does that feel?”

“Fine,” you replied, significantly less overwhelmed than before. The truth was, you could feel him inside you, but it didn’t feel good or bad. He was just there, and you told him as much.

“No pain?”

“None.”

“Good. How does this feel?”

Before you had chance to ask him what had changed, the middle finger moved inside you, curling upwards and tapping the front wall of your cunt. That felt incredible. In surprise, you bolted upright, eyes widened and mouth hanging open, a breathy, high-pitched whimper tumbling out before you had chance to stop it.

In all the times you’d touched yourself, and had him touch you, you’d never thought of this. Of course, you’d known about the actual act itself, but despite reading all those books, his fingers - or even your own - had never crossed your mind as something you could do or have done to you. And if you weren’t alive with electricity to the point where you felt like you could explode at any moment, you’d ask him why he hadn’t done it before.

“I’ll take that as, ‘It feels good, Copia’,” he teased, with a smug grin on his face.

“Again,” you requested, frantically.

He tutted. “Angel, where are your manners?”

“Please.”

He obliged, tapping up exactly how he had done before and making you cry out a second time, falling backwards again and relaxing into the plushness of his pillows. His movements were slow and delicate, as if he didn’t want to break you.

“This,” he began, laving kisses over your thighs, “is called your g-spot, and it’s the second spot after your clit designed for only pleasure.”

He pulled out of you and you whined at the loss. When you looked down at him again, you watched him put his ring finger and that middle finger in his mouth and spit all over them before he placed them back into you, slow and gentle movements to keep you comfortable. He tapped up again, earning another sob to fall from your lips as he toyed with you.

The speed of his taps quickened which ended up giving you more pleasure than you thought was possible. Your body recovered quickly from each of his slow hits, but it didn’t have time to calm down in between the new pace that had been set, causing tingles to spread all over your body and your mind to go completely blank. You couldn’t even form sentences to tell him how you felt, mind dumb from the sensation. Thus, the only sounds you made were cries out for him to not stop, to continue to work your body into such a frenzy that you could cum on his fingers like that.

The more his fingers moved, the more you could hear it: the extreme wetness that your cunt was producing around his fingers, splashing around those digits and making the most sinful squelching noises that had Copia bite his lip. “Sathanas, you sound so fucking good, Angel,” he told you, watching your wetness gather on his fingers. “So wet and pliant for me. I know that it feels good, not by your sounds, but by how soaked you’re making my fingers. Fuck. I can’t wait to get inside you - to feel this tight, wet cunt around my cock. I need a taste, I can’t-”

He interrupted himself to put his lips back on your clit, sucking those nerves exactly how he had before. He played your body like a fiddle, the perfect timing of each of the suckles on your clit alongside the taps to your g-spot making your hips rut against him again, your desperation more prevalent than ever before. You chanced a look down at him and clenched around his fingers at what you saw. His eyes were closed completely, putting his entire concentration on your body and your pleasure while the bottom half of his face worked you to completion. His hair was messed by your fingers tugging at the strands, moving the meticulously combed sections into an out of place mop on his head. And his hips, though still clad in his jeans, were moving on their on free will, and grinding into the mattress below him, humping against the sheets because he was seemingly just as desperate as you were. His left hand was on your thigh, the pads digging into the meat to keep himself firmly attached to you at all times. And it was all proving to be too much.

Your own hands moved up to play with your nipples through the fabric of your nightgown, and that would prove to be your undoing. Your orgasm hit you so quickly, you barely had any time to call out and let him know. All he got was a, “cumming!” before you finally tipped over the edge. There were white spots in your vision as you came, the breath stolen from your lungs and your toes curling against the sheets. Your back arched off the bed, your body so overcome with the sensation, you thought you were going to pass out. Nothing had ever felt so good - so powerful. The combination of his ministrations had you truly seeing stars, experiencing the kind of orgasm you’d only read about and it was all because of him. This vampyre attached to your body to make you feel incredible.

He only released you when you pushed him away, breathlessly pleading with him to give you a break. Copia pulled his fingers out of you slowly, smirking at the hiss you released due to your sensitivity. With one final kiss to your flesh, he stood from the bed and began to undress completely, his painfully hard cock springing free from his jeans, and hairy stomach jiggling as he moved, tossing his clothes to the side and walking to the side of the bed.

His large hands came to the sleeves of your nightgown, pulling them down off your arms and rolling the fabric down your torso until it got stuck at your hips. “Lift yourself up for me, Angel,” he asked. You did as he’d asked, and helped him roll the nightgown off your body and watched him throw it to where the rest of his clothes lay.

Your breasts were still heaving with your breathlessness, body numb and trembling from the force of the orgasm that you were trying to recover from. Your wings were almost completely outstretched, the left one cascading over the bed like a waterfall making Copia dance around it to get into his bedside drawer.

He pulled out a small, square packet you knew to be a condom. You only knew condoms existed because of the turmoil they’d caused within Catholic spaces, and how they were condemned by the Pope and other prominent figures as ‘playing God’. You watched Copia roll the latex over his considerable length, and climbed back onto the bed, bending at your cunt to give you one final, teasing lick and causing you to cry out in oversensitivity.

“Do not!” you begged, laughter rising up in your body as he kissed his way back up to your lips.

This kiss was passionate, and you could taste yourself on his tongue, however faintly it might have been. You could feel his length heavy against your core, but this time he didn’t rub.

“I’m gonna put it in now, okay?” he asked, his mouth closer to your ear. “If it hurts, tell me.”

“Okay,” you replied.

He hovered above you, eyes bearing directly into yours. He always loved the initial stretch, the look on the person’s face as he entered them for the first time. The furrowing of the brow, the silent cry they let out, or even that exhale of air from their lungs, so shaky and unstable. It always let him know that he made others feel good.

He lined himself up at your entrance. “Are you ready?”

You nodded.

“I need words, Angel.”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

“I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

He pushed himself inside you, your wetness opening up for him with ease. Despite this, he still intended to take his time with you; move slowly to keep you as comfortable as possible. Though, the face you made as he stretched out your walls made him want to slam all the way inside you and take whatever he wanted. The way your eyebrows furrowed upwards, the way your mouth hung open in pleasure, and the way your eyes swam with lust had him feeling like a rabid dog, all panting and drooling, completely out of control of his own body.

And you gasped. It was pure music to his ears. On the exhale, you moaned loudly, and to him, it was nothing short of pornographic.

His mouth dropped down to your nipple and began to lick and suck on it again, lavishing you in as much pleasure as he thought you might have needed, but the nails digging into his back proved to be your body crying out at just how good it actually felt.

He wasn’t all the way in but your body felt like it was on fire. Every nerve ending screamed while your voice remained silent, bumps appearing on your skin and butterflies dancing in your stomach. You had welcomed him in much better than you thought you would - than you’d been told, and his gentility with you only served to enhance the sensation, drag out the feeling of him fully carving a space out for himself until he was fully sheathed inside you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his own breath taken away from him and his body trembling on top of yours.

You tucked your lips between your teeth and nodded.

“Does it hurt?”

“N-no.”

“Feels good?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me when I can move.”

There was a small part of you that didn’t want to, wondering just how he’d fare buried deep inside you, waiting for your command only to realise it would never come. You’d have to burrow that little idea away for some other time, for now, you had to do everything he asked of you. You licked your lips then bit the lower one, moving your hands to the forearms that were either side of you and holding himself up, before uttering, “Please move.”

The first pull out then push back in was overwhelming to say the least. Your grip tightened on his skin, and you cried out as he hit a spot deep inside you. His movements were gentle, slow… restrained.

He did it again, earning an “oh” to fall from your lips.

Though he was still careful with you, like you were china about to smash, his pace picked up, yet all the while, his eyes were locked onto yours, searching you for a sign of discomfort that wouldn’t come, no matter how often he buried himself in you. “Can I go faster?”

“Yes.”

Grunts and moans, mixed with heavy pants fell from his own mouth as he borrowed pleasure from your body. “Oh, fuck!” His voice was deep, gravelly and dark, and you could hardly believe that it belonged to him. Yet, even so, it caused you to tighten around his length and steal another moan from his mouth.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, putting all of his weight on your body as he continued to rock into you, pace gathering speed until you were moaning fervidly beneath him, wordlessly begging him for more. You could feel his tongue lave over your skin, pressing open mouthed kisses as though he was trying to distract himself. He moved his head up, letting his teeth graze your earlobe.

All the while, your hands were back on his back, nails digging into the skin.

“So wet,” he commented, voice muffled by your neck. “So fucking tight.” He sat up a little, still putting the majority of his weight onto you but resting on his elbows.

“C-Copia!” You breathlessly called for him, hands clawing into his skin and trying to keep him as close to you as possible.

“I know, Angel. I know.”

He took your nipple into his mouth again and sucked on it. He lifted his hips a little, just enough for a hand to snake in between you both. “Touch yourself, Angel,” he requested, popping off your nipple momentarily.

Your middle finger ran circles over your clit, just as you were used to doing. Applying some pressure, you began to feel that familiar knot inside you tighten, and tighten, until eventually you snapped.

Your cunt fluttered around his cock, tightening with the sensation of your orgasm washing over you. Copia kept thrusting in and out of you, keeping his tempo as you continued to touch yourself, heightening the sensation and making it just that more spectacular. Your whole body strained at the feeling, and a great wave of sensitivity fell over you the more it travelled through your whole body. Your toes curled, your fingertips dug into his body, your screams were deep and guttural. Your eyes closed tightly lest they glaze over from the force. “Oh my God!” you screeched once your breath had returned.

“Sathanas - I’m cumming!” Copia told you.

Mere moments later, he stilled a growl forming on his lips and causing your hole to tighten even more in the process. The cum that would usually sit somewhere on your body, or slide down your throat, now filled the condom he wore, more spilling into it with each thrust until he, like you, was completely spent. A part of you wondered what it would be like to feel him inside of you like that - if it would feel any different at all.

He collapsed on top of you, using your body as a pillow to allow him to recover from his own strong finish. He was sweaty, and sticky, and somehow it didn’t make you feel disgusted. If you had any energy left, it would actually do the opposite to you.

Copia said something, but was muffled by his face in between your breasts, you couldn’t understand him.

“I beg your pardon?” you asked, hoping for him to clarify.

He lifted his head. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“I am okay. No pain on my end. H-how are you?”

He flopped back down onto your body. “Dead.”

You laughed. “If I would have known that this is what would kill you, perhaps we should have done this at the start.”

“It wouldn’t have felt as good. It only did because I l-” he stopped himself, and thought for a moment. “I see you differently.”

You both lay there in silence for a while, waiting for your bodies to regain your breaths. Your hand came up to his hair and ran through it, despite the sweatiness.

The room was calm and quiet, save for your breathing. This was the most peace you’d felt since you fell from grace - and you knew that if it had been like this from the beginning, you’d never have wanted to leave. You would have been entirely smitten with the Cardinal, favouring him to your Lord. You could have even truly understood Lucifer’s stance on his whole situation.

But you didn’t get the welcome wagon. You saw the very worst humanity had to offer at the hands of the vampyres and you were sure it would happen again and again. It didn’t matter if you stayed at the Ministry and all would be well, there would be future generations of Satanic worshippers who may repeat the process. And that thought scared you - the prospect of repeating everything you’d been through over and over again made you shiver. But, could you leave Copia now? Could you go after all of this? You couldn’t be sure.

Not to mention the fact that you had been defiled now, despite you actively begging for it. In the afterglow, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret these feelings, no matter how much Heaven had previously commanded you to. And there was a small part of you that was saddened by the fact that you’d never be able to return to the celestial realm - doomed to wander the mortal one for the rest of eternity. But if this was how you’d be able to live for the rest of time? You’d find contentment in it, possibly even prefer it to life in Heaven.

Little did you know, Copia was grappling with his own issues.

You were still technically a prisoner - his pet, no matter how much he could pretend otherwise. His own mother was forcing him to force information out of you regardless of whether you were in pain. He had subjected you to unimaginable horrors and the guilt was eating him up inside now that he’d come to his senses and realised just how much he cared for you, how he almost said three words that would have changed everything. But if he was being honest with himself, as he lay on your body and cocooned himself in your arms: he loved you.

He was in love with you.

It was everything, from your innocence, your feistiness, how you fought him every step of the way. You were beautiful, and rare, and obedient. You were honest to fault, kept him in line, listened to him when he spoke. And you gave yourself so willingly to him, even after everything he’d done. The revelation had hit him like a tonne of bricks, but you weren’t ready to hear it yet.

“What do we do now?” you asked him, still stroking his hair.

“We wait,” he told you. “Bide our time until Imperator wants to complete the ritual.”

“Will we still have to go through with it?”

Copia nodded. “She doesn’t know about this.” He sat on his knees in between your legs. “We need to make her think the ritual worked, so we still need to do it. But the ritual will fail because we’ve already taken the key ingredient.”

“Can we be sure?”

“Yes. But, there is something we need to talk about.”

You sat up. “Okay.”

“We need to make her think the ritual is a success in order to get her off our backs for the time being and think about what we should do next. Which means when I take you on the Basilica floor, you have to pretend you hate it. You have to fight me. I’m going to be horrible to you - absolutely vile - and you have to pretend like none of this happened, okay?”

Your stomach dropped. “Why?”

“You can still be killed, Angel. She’s already planning on it because she knows you won’t give up any information, and if you can’t turn into a demon then you’re as good as dead. At least if she thinks she’s winning, then we have a chance, too. And if you were suddenly willing to take part in these rituals-”

“She would know that something was amiss and kill me anyway,” you interrupted. “What will you do to me… during the ritual?”

Copia sighed. “I can’t tell you. We need to keep some element of surprise to make it all seem believable. I will stop if you get extremely uncomfortable. If you say… peaches… I’ll stop. But I need you to not say it. Please.”

You nodded in understanding, but couldn’t swallow the fear that had appeared. There was a lot riding on this, and it needed to go perfectly.

When the full moon came, you couldn’t help but feel nervous. Not frightened, because you knew that you’d be safe, but nervous because you didn’t know if you could make it all believable.

Copia came into the room with those hellfire chains you’d not needed to wear in so long. He wrapped them around your wings and your wrists, and told you to begin fighting him immediately. And so, you did. As soon as he had you bound in chains, you began to struggle against them, screaming at Copia to let you go. Of course, he didn’t oblige. He refused to. Instead, he dragged you out of his apartments and down the hallways to the Basilica, the imposing space looking even more intimidating the closer you got to it. All the while you pulled against him, flinched when he threatened you and fought against him every step of the way. You hurled insults at him, spat in his direction, clung onto protruding bits of the walls and furniture to try and make his life just that much harder.

He wouldn’t let anyone else touch you. When his ghouls tried to intervene, he pushed them away, telling them to walk behind you both so that they could catch you if you managed to escape - which you both knew would never happen, but you both had to act the part.

The siblings that you passed were all staring at the spectacle in front of them, and you didn’t know how to feel when you saw the expressions on their faces. The majority of people were appalled at how the Cardinal was treating you, evidently thinking how inhumane he was being by not only chaining you, but pulling you to a place against your will. You recognised some of these siblings, some you’d seen in the kitchens and dining halls, others in the library. Some you’d had conversations with, and had been nothing but kind. You debated whether or not you should call for their help, beg the onlookers to do something to save you. But if they overwhelmed Copia, it would spell trouble for both of you. No, for now you were better off just struggling.

As was last time, the second you walked into the Basilica, your skin started to prickle. The soles of your feet burned as if you were walking on lukewarm coal, and your hairs stood on end. Your instincts screamed at you, reminding you that you didn’t belong on this unhallowed ground. There was still some holiness inside of you, but the intensity had dulled significantly since the last time you were in there, causing you to realise just how corrupted you truly had become.

Standing in the sanctuary, in front of the statue of Lilith and Baphomet, Sister Imperator stood with a smug expression on her face. That thick book was back in her hands, and she was surrounded by ghouls - some hers, some Copia’s, some you’d never seen before. On the floor was that familiar Satanic Pentagram that you’d already been inside twice, with candles at each point.

“Now, are we ready?” you heard the Sister ask from behind you.

Prev./Next

[her-satanic-wiles]

Dawn Chorus - X

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 7.2k.

Reading Time: 29 min.

Warnings: blood drinking, brief comparison to addiction, consensual non-consent, creampie, degradation, knife play, mild fear play, moderately painful sex, PTSD (a bit), restraint, ritual sex, slut shaming, unprotected sex, vaginal sex

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976

🔞 MDNI 🔞

You felt scared. While you knew that Copia wouldn’t hurt you, at least, not anything you didn’t agree to, you couldn’t help but notice your surroundings. The Devil and his bride’s cold eyes watching the scene play out, boring into your soul as if they knew your deepest, darkest secrets. The red pentagram on the floor, which stood out against the black and white chequerboard of the Basilica floor, haunting… threatening. A promise that you wouldn’t leave this sacred space without being fundamentally changed first. There was still a voice in the back of your head that asked you, what if? What if Copia taking your purity the other day turned out to not be the correct thing to do? What if the ritual worked?

Besides the fear, the pentagram, and the statue, you were surrounded by ghouls to the point where they formed a perfect circle around the ritual site. Their eyes were hidden beneath their masks, most of them anyway, but even so, you could tell they were watching you - anticipating your move like an animal drawn to the slaughter about to make her final escape attempt.

And then there was Imperator. Blonde hair pushed back into a tight bun, hazel eyes trained solely on you with a darkness to them that unsettled you. A shiver travelled down your spine as you felt the weight of her gaze on you, never relenting, never giving you respite. That same weighty book sat in her hands, open to a page where the rite would be read by her, methodically following instructions down to each dot and every crossbar.

You stopped fighting Copia to take it all in, your heart racing and your eyes darting from ghoul to ghoul until eventually, the Sister’s voice broke the silence. “Now, are we ready?”

“Yes,” Copia said, his voice just as dark as hers.

“In your positions, then.”

Copia tugged on the chain he was holding and pulled you towards him, your chests flush and your flushed face trained onto his. He removed his hand from the chain and placed both of them on your biceps, tightly holding you in place. “Are you going to behave for me, Angel?” he asked, a taunting edge to his voice that stabbed your heart.

It was the same tone he’d used with you before… before the gentility, before the touches and the pleasure… before you became more than just a plaything to him. His gaze upon you was just as cold and sadistic as it was when he first met you, too. You couldn’t help but wonder, had anything changed at all? Did he actually care about you like he seemed he did? Did he prioritise your pleasure and well-being because he was genuinely sorry for his actions? Or was he playing you - turning you into a guitar to strum alongside the beat of his rhythm to add to his hellish ensemble? Was all of this just simply a ruse to get what he wanted, your well-being be damned, the destruction of your purity a mere obstacle to overcome in his grand, evil plan?

“Let go of me!” you ordered, protesting him violently again once you’d found your courage. You began to try and shake free from his grip, but his fingers had dug into your flesh too tightly for your escape to be possible.

“I thought we’d got over this, Angel,” he taunted. “I thought you were my obedient little whore now.”

Your blood ran cold. Could he hear your thoughts?

“I will never be yours,” you hissed. “You are delusional if you think otherwise.”

“Delusional, you say?” He laughed. “Then why do you keep coming back to me, begging for more?” He leaned forward and levelled his mouth to your ear. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he continued, “You can’t resist, and we both know it.” He backed away. “We can either do this the easy way, or the hard way, Angel. Your choice.”

You managed to wriggle free of his grasp, and tried to swing your hands at his face, despite the fact that they were still tied together. Of course, you couldn’t move quick enough, and he grabbed hold of your wrists easily and pushed them down to your waist. “The hard way, then.”

He reached round to the back pocket of his jeans and pulled something out of it, bringing it quickly to your throat. You felt it, the cold, sharp metal of a switch blade you had no idea he’d brought with him. You remembered him telling you that he had to be cruel to make it believable - was this what he meant?

You gasped, your chest rising and falling quickly with the exertions of your breath. He pressed the blade into your skin, enough to knick it should you move at all. You had no choice now but to remain perfectly still, otherwise tragedy could strike. Unexpectedly, your body reacted in a different way. Heat pooled in your core as you felt the sharp edge against your throat. Your stomach flipped at the darkness in which Copia was looking at you. After already feeling him inside you, the gentility of the act from before, to now the viscousness on display, there was something inside you that felt excited for the ritual now - pleasure by force, even if it was all just an act in the end. You clenched your thighs together in hopes of stopping the wetness from spilling out of you, but you wondered if Imperator could smell it just as you knew Copia could. Would she be able to tell?

“Cardinal,” the Sister said from behind him. Your eyes flickered to her. “Are you going to play with her all day, or are we going to get on with this?”

He turned you around and pushed you into the centre of the pentagram before looking at his ghouls. “Chains,” he commanded, his voice much more authoritative than it had been before. Three ghouls came up behind you. You felt one of them undoing the chains of your wings while the other two held onto each wing to stop you from flapping away and attempting escape. You would have fought them, but with Copia’s knife still to your throat there was no way you could without getting yourself hurt. Each ghoul that had held your wings now spread them out fully. You felt two separate chains get wrapped around each one, and once they were tied, Copia lowered you to the floor so that you would be trapped there beneath him. He removed the knife from you and backed away, allowing his ghouls to take your arms and legs and spread them out too, tying you down to… well, something nearby, until you were completely trapped and at his mercy. You tried to pull at the chains, but thanks to that knife, the only opportunity to escape came and went before you had chance to truly seize it.

“She needs to be naked, Cardinal,” Imperator instructed, her eyes reading from the book. “You should have removed her robes first.”

“Well, the ritual will have to make do with her clothed,” Copia snapped. “There’s nothing to be done now.”

“You have a knife, don’t you?”

Copia stopped for a second, looking at you with unreadable eyes. “Sister, we’re in a room filled with people… her dignity… she’s already-”

“I couldn’t care less,” the Sister snapped. “We have to follow the instructions down to the last detail or the ritual won’t work. Are you trying to sabotage us, Cardinal?”

“No, but-”

“Then use that knife!”

Copia sighed and knelt down in between your legs. He reached up and gripped hold of your robe’s bodice, fingers skimming over the skin of your breasts. He dug the knife into the fabric and cut downwards, the sound of the fabric tearing filling the Basilica, echoing off the marble. You could feel the point of the blade lightly skimming over your stomach, nowhere near deep enough to draw blood but enough to remind you that he could; that he had a weapon in his hands and he was going to use it to defile you more. The thought alone caused slick to appear between your legs.

Once your robes were cut in half, Copia pushed the loose flaps off your body, exposing you to the room - something else that shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did. You were embarrassed and vulnerable, in a room filled with people who could put you in danger at a moment’s notice… but that was also precisely what made it so hot; you were totally at the mercy of the enemy, and you’d already experienced how good that felt before.

But this amount of exposure wasn’t good enough for the Sister. “Her straps, too,” she commanded, observing every detail.

Copia rolled his eyes and sliced through the fabric of your straps, pulling your completely destroyed and irreparable attire out from underneath you. Your bare back was flush against the marble flooring, causing you to whine at the cold feeling beneath you. It was that temperature change that made your nipples harden… at least, that was what you were telling yourself.

The Sister looked at her book and began to read from it. “In nomine…” Latin… she was speaking Latin. “In the name of darkness and shadow, we summon the powers of hell. Let this divine light be corrupted, and all holiness be reduced to dust…”

Copia undid his trouser buttons and released himself from his jeans… not even half hard yet. He looked at you and for the first time you could see a little panic in his eyes. If he wasn’t the one to complete this ritual, someone else would take his place. He wandered his eyes over your body, staring at your cunt in the process and biting his lip at just how wet you’d become since the start. He ran his gloved hand over your slit and gathered your slick swiping it against his tongue - apparently, that was enough to get him fully prepared.

“Abandoned sacraments, symbols of holiness, now sink into obscurity. The divinity of the angel, devoured by darkness, is soon changed into a demon under Your guiding light, oh Dark One…”

He lined himself up to your entrance and sank all the way in, and you noted that he was going slowly, to not hurt you any more than he was already. You screamed out in pain, a little more exaggerated than what you were actually feeling for the Sister’s benefit, but even so it still hurt you. Your walls stretched around his girth with no preparation, just the wetness your body had produced despite the situation.

You couldn’t help but notice Copia’s features, tightly screwed up at the feeling of being completely buried inside you. You may have been hurt, but he felt so good. His bottom lip trapped beneath his teeth to stop himself from calling out and keep his head in the moment. You knew from the last time you were joined like this, that he could so quickly lose control inside of you and right now that would be the worst possible option.

He put the knife to your throat again, and leaned down over you, keeping his mouth to your ear. “I care for you, and I need you to remember that,” he whispered. “Because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”

He moved back, hovering above you as he began to thrust in and out of you, a relentless pace being set at the get go. You cried out, a mix of pain and pleasure in your voice with each hit of your cervix by the head of his cock. You’d have given anything to run your fingernails over his back, the overwhelming feeling of being fucked proving too much already, and you were only at the start.

The Sister’s voice grew louder as she continued speaking, distracting you from what was going on briefly with Copia’s cock deep inside you. “Let the shadows come and corrupt the light. Let the demons come and invade the body, let your holy blood spill from your skin and make room for the darkness. Your divinity, Angel, is now reduced to nothing…” Her empty hand was raised up, and you could almost see the dark tendrils of energy swirling around her, the Hell that she brought to the mortal realm through her words and her worship alone. There was a small fear that bubbled in your stomach, your mind telling you that this was truly the end for you.

That was when you felt it, a sharp slice to your collar bone where Copia had cut into your skin, spilling your blood from beneath. His pupils were blown out as he focussed on your blood, watching it drip up your shoulder and onto the floor, merging into the red paint below you. It hurt - but you tightened.

“You l-like this, Angel?” Copia asked, hammering deep into you yet still staring at your blood. “Mmm, fuck. I thought you’d like the pain - the biggest whores do.”

“I am not a-”

“You think I can’t feel how wet you are?” He slammed into you particularly violently, making the stream of blood zigzag at the force. “How ti-ight you grip me? Fuck. Never felt someone… tighten like this when th-their blood is spilled except whores.”

You couldn’t understand how something so painful could end up feeling so good, especially when all the right parts of you were singing with pleasure now that you’d gotten used to the stretch around Copia. He bent down and ran his tongue over the blood, ingesting it after quite some time. His words were cruel, but like the physical pain, it all heightened the sensation and had you fighting back moans.

He sucked at your blood for a while before making a second cut beneath your breast, on your stomach, immediately dipping his head to suckle from that stream too. He grunted at the taste of you, but also the feeling of your cunt strangling his cock. His other hand was on your hip, keeping himself pressed flushed into you to help him fuck you as roughly as possible. The more drops of you he drank, the more intoxicated he got, too mesmerised by the blood he’d not drank for too long. He couldn’t afford to lose his mind, but there he was giving over to his base instincts, and taking from your body just as he had done before.

He sat on his knees for a moment and watched you beneath him: you looked sinful. Wings spread out majestically yet chained to the ground - a powerful beast of Heaven resorted to a mere toy for him to fuck in his unhallowed place of worship. Your breasts bounced with each of his thrusts, body jiggling with the force of him using your body as he pleased, and as his Dark Lord had ordered. Your blood, now spilling from two cuts, dripping off your body like a crimson stream that pooled and gathered within the pentagram below. He wasn’t sure if it was the effect of your blood taking hold, but he swore the red paint had a glow to it, as though the ritual was actually working. Even so, you looked delectable, perfectly edible. And he quite simply couldn’t get enough.

“This cunt,” he panted, bucking into you while saying each word. “Sathanas - feels so fucking good!”

He ran the knife between the valley of your breasts, lightly pressing the metal into your skin. He pulled it down over the expanse of your stomach, tracing it in curved lines until he reached your groin, moving over to your pubic mound. You clenched again, anticipating a nick but nothing came. What was wrong with you today? Why was all of this turning you on so much?

“Filthy slut,” he hissed.

“I-it,” you stuttered. You tried to talk but it was difficult enough to breathe, let alone vocalise what you were feeling. “It’s t-too mu-ah! Much!”

“It isn’t for me.”

He gripped tightly onto your hip and picked up the pace, knife running against your bare skin just as a threat more so than anything else. You were so helpless beneath him and he loved it, blood pumping through your veins, a small hint of fear mixing with your arousal, the sound of your heartbeat rising. The tightening of your hole as he did the most heinous shit to your body and you accepted it willingly, despite being told to fight against him in the first place. This accompanied by the taste of your blood on his tongue, and warming his own insides. He wasn’t the man he used to be, the man who took your virginity. He was barely in control of himself. He was feral, desperate - more so than you. And he couldn’t stop himself. It felt too good - you felt too good.

“You’re g-gonna think about this later, aren’t you?” he muttered, mostly to himself but directed at you. “T-Touch yourself thinking about me d-defiling you, taking any in-innocence that was left. F-Fucking hell. It’s always the good girls who f-follow the rules that like the f-filthiest f-fuck, huh? I w-wonder what else you’d let me get away with.”

The more he spoke, the darker his voice became, until eventually he was practically growling at you. He bent down, hovering his body over yours until he was face-to-face with you, and put the knife to your throat, exactly where the scars to his very first bite mark was, and thought for a moment. “My teeth, or my knife?”

“N-neither,” you moaned slightly.

“My teeth… or my fucking knife.”

“You-your teeth.”

“From the sacred lands, from the divine books, all sanctity is now turned into night. The symbols of purity are perverted, and she is transformed into a demon…”

He threw the knife away, and you watched it slide across the marble and skid to a halt right before a ghoul’s boot. Copia hissed, a sound you hadn’t heard from him before, yet that sound stopped when his fangs penetrated your neck, piercing your skin and allowing yet more blood to escape you into his mouth. He grunted, groaned, made the most sinful noises that had your core screaming to cum. The feeling of his jeans roughly hitting your clit was sure to send you over the edge eventually. You just needed the extra push. And Copia’s tongue laving over your sensitive neck to suck up the blood may have been it. Or his shirt’s fabric rubbing against your nipples every time he thrusted into you and made your body jiggle against him… you couldn’t be sure. But, you came.

At first, you didn’t anticipate it. The last time he was inside you, and all the times he’d touched you before, there was a warning before you hit your orgasm. But this time? Nothing. No build up to the sensitivity, no tingling. It was as though you’d been hit by a bus. The sharp wave of it rushing over you, making you scream out as it hit, tugging against your chains and writhing beneath Copia, who was damn near oblivious to your pleasure. “Oh, God!” you screamed, your body convulsing as much as Copia’s weight would allow.

Copia popped off your neck temporarily. “He can’t help you now, Angel.”

“Into eternal darkness, into perpetual shadows, let all light now be extinguished. Through this desecration, you, Angel, will be one step closer to demonic life!”

The familiar blackness began to creep into the edges of your vision, slowly encroaching like a gathering storm. It built up gradually, consuming the details of the room around you. The ornate symbols and dim candlelight blurred, then vanished entirely, leaving your eyes all but useless in the engulfing void.

Sounds that once filled the air around you—Copia’s laboured breathing, the sinister chants of Sister Imperator, the crackling of distant flames—began to distort. They grew hollow and echoed unnaturally, as if you were sinking into a deep abyss. Each echo stretched out longer and longer, until finally, they faded into an oppressive silence where there was nothing left to hear.

The last thing you remembered was the intense sensation of Copia’s body against yours, his movements erratic and desperate. You felt the heat and pressure of his final thrusts, the way his grip tightened possessively on your hips. The sensation of his cum flooding into your cunt was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the growing numbness spreading through your limbs.

As Copia emptied himself inside you, you sensed his dark satisfaction, heard his groans of pleasure mingling with your own fading consciousness. His last, deep thrusts seemed to drink in every part of you, his body shuddering in ecstasy.

Then, the numbness began to take over completely. It started as a gentle tingling in your extremities, quickly turning to a heavy, inescapable sensation that spread inward. Your body grew cold and distant, disconnected from your mind. The world around you dimmed, the Basilica and its cruel occupants vanishing into the impeding darkness.

Finally, your mind surrendered to the void. All thoughts, all sensations were swallowed by the blackness, and the last fleeting image was of Copia’s triumphant gaze, blurred and distant, mouth surrounded by your blood, as the world around you faded to black.

Your mind stirred into consciousness before your eyes fluttered open. For a few disorienting moments, you didn’t know where you were. The last thing you remembered was the floor of the Basilica and how cold it was. Yet, you felt a surprising warmth and comfort, despite the dull throbbing in your head and the stinging pain in your wrists and ankles where the ritual chains had rubbed against your flesh.

When you finally opened your eyes, you found yourself enveloped by the familiar confines of Copia’s bedroom. The luxurious sheets cocooned you in a soft embrace, their texture gentle against your damaged skin. Your wings were sprawled out across the entire mattress, their span emphasising the considerable size of the bed, even if half of them hung off the sides.

Your gaze travelled to the foot of the bed, where Copia was slumped in the same armchair he had occupied the first time he realised he could control you by holding your halo. He was fast asleep, his body draped over the chair like a carelessly discarded blanket. His mouth hung open slightly, and soft snores escaped from his parted lips, adding an oddly domestic soundtrack to the scene.

As you attempted to sit up, a sharp pain flared from your cuts, pulling a wince from your lips. Instinctively, you ran your hands over your body, seeking the source of the discomfort. To your surprise, you discovered that you had been dressed in a new robe. This one was black, closely resembling the habit of a Sister of Sin with the back cut out to make room for your protruding wings. Beneath the robe, you could feel the rough texture of bandages—evidence that your wounds had been tended to. Even your neck, which bore the mark of Copia’s eager bite, had been carefully dressed.

The memory of what had happened during the ritual began to flood back, and with it, a rush of emotions and physical responses. Your body reacted involuntarily to the thought of Copia’s hands on you, his mouth claiming your flesh. The sensation was visceral, stirring something deep within you.

You glanced back at Copia, his form still and peaceful in slumber, a stark contrast to the intensity of the ritual. The juxtaposition was almost jarring. Here was the man who had orchestrated your torment, now appearing as harmless as a child lost in a dream. The sight was strangely comforting, yet it did nothing to quell the tumultuous feelings roiling inside you.

You were still weak, a little too weak to get up and out of bed at that stage. But it didn’t matter, Copia’s eyes had opened not too long after yours. He blinked a few times, then his gaze focused on you, a slow, almost lazy smile spreading across his face.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he murmured, his voice husky from sleep. “How are you feeling, my dear Angel?” He straightened in his chair, stretching slightly, genuine concern evident in his eyes. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever wake,” he continued, his tone taking on a more fearful sound when he was met with silence from you, and not the open armed welcome he expected. “The ritual took quite a toll on you, it seems.”

“The amount of blood I lost, I thought you were extracting it from me again,” you commented, bitter and bruised from his getting carried away.

Copia chuckled softly, the sound low and almost tender. “I must admit, I did get a bit carried away,” he replied, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something darker. “But you survived, didn’t you? And here you are, looking more… intriguing than ever.”

He leaned forward in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours. “You’re stronger than you think, Angel. Enduring everything I put you through… it only proves how resilient you are.”

“What good is resilience when you… you acted the same way you did when I first arrived. You were cruel… evil. I did not wish to see that again.”

“Angel,” he sighed. He stood up and walked to the bed, sitting on the edge. He tried to find your hand, but you pulled it under the comforter. “I told you I’d have to be. She needed to believe it.”

“You enjoyed yourself.” Your tone was accusing. You found it difficult to look him in the eye.

“So did you. You felt good, too. I could tell.”

Your eyes narrowed, a mixture of anger and something else simmering beneath the surface. “Feeling good doesn’t make it right,” you retorted, your voice trembling slightly. “It doesn’t change what you did.”

Copia’s expression softened, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes. “I know,” he said quietly. “But in that moment, it was necessary. If Imperator had seen any weakness, any hesitation, she would have known something was amiss. Everything we’ve done would have been for nothing.”

He leaned closer, his gaze intense. “I need you to understand, Angel. This isn’t just about pleasure or pain. It’s about survival. Both yours and mine.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, quickly brushing it away. “But at what cost?” you whispered.

Copia’s hand hovered over yours, hesitant, then gently rested atop the comforter covering your hand. “At whatever cost it takes to keep you safe,” he said softly. “I promise you, Angel, this isn’t the end. It’s just the beginning. And I will do whatever it takes to see us through this.”

You looked at him then, truly looked at him, and saw the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. It was a side of him you hadn’t seen before, and it stirred something within you—a fragile hope amidst the chaos. You let him take your hand this time when he searched for it.

“Just… don’t forget who I am,” you murmured, your voice almost a plea.

“Never,” Copia replied, his voice firm yet gentle. “You’re far too important to me for that.” He brought the back of your hand to his lips and kissed the soft skin.

The room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of your shared experiences hanging heavily in the air.

You were bed-ridden for days after, your body too tired to fight. You’d been a long time without your halo again, and you weren’t healing as quickly as you should have. Copia never pressured you into sex again, and resolved to wait for you to come to him. But you didn’t - and you weren’t sure if you ever could. Seeing him during the ritual brought back all those feelings from before, but this time more conflicting. Because you felt something for him, but you’d been reminded of the past, and that wasn’t healing as well as you thought it had either.

For the first time since you arrived, Copia was at your side through your entire recovery. It was almost as if he knew that you were questioning his actions, or perhaps worse: him. He’d arranged everything for you, any meals you may have wanted he anticipated and had one of his ghouls bring it up to you, he fluffed your pillows himself, as well as changed your wound’s dressings himself, despite the smell of your blood still lingering in the air. His touches were always soft, words always tender, and demeanour always gentle, trying to convince you that the ritual was a one off unless you asked for that kind of treatment again.

He’d warned you, you consented, and it felt obnoxiously good in the end, but you still couldn’t help the feeling of unease that washed over you. You couldn’t help the way your stomach dropped at the sight of his dark eyes staring at you, how his mouth was attached to your body, lapping up your blood like you were still his personal blood bank. Is that all you’d ever be to him? Would you always be nothing more than the pet he could take whatever he wanted from whenever he wanted it? Were you always second rate to him?

Or did he even care about you at all? Was this kindness actual kindness, or manipulation? You couldn’t make a decision, and you couldn’t ask him.

Clarity came in the form of a stroll around the Ministry’s gardens during one sunny day when you’d almost entirely recovered. It had been so long since you felt the warmth of the Sun on your skin, the smell of the flowers in bloom and the insects pollinating and going about their own business. You’d lived during the night more and more because that was Copia’s schedule, but slipping away from him and his ghouls was easy enough. You needed a break, some respite from the chaos that was the Cardinal and his life, and this was perfect.

Your mind cast itself back to when you first came out here to fly and stretch your wings, and just how much of a tragedy that whole situation became in the end. That ghoul was fine now, nary a scar on him thanks to the Ministry’s medical team and their knowledge of demonkind. It was as if nothing had happened. Yet you still felt guilty for it.

Memories began filtering through your defences of Brother Thomas, and the look in his eyes when Copia had come home early. The last time you saw him was when he climbed beneath the bed and tried to hide from the vampyre who took delight in torturing you and tormenting you. You hadn’t heard from him since. There were no letters waiting for you at the start of every night, no phone calls to be passed on… nothing. It was as if you didn’t exist to him and that thought had saddened you the most. Sure, you had Aurora now, but it wasn’t the same as your first friend. You couldn’t get attached to her in the same way as Brother Thomas.

You wondered if Brother Thomas was alive as Copia had promised… if he was in America somewhere or if Copia had lied to you. Copia’s lies grew and grew with each day, especially back then… it would have been easy to lie. You had no proof either way, and that was also a terrifying thought.

All the negativity swirling around your head would drive you insane. This distrust was something you’d only ever experienced with the Almighty, and how He’d keep secrets from you to have to do His bidding. Had you really gone from one master to another, both ends of the religious spectrum yet both using you to get to their own personal goals?

The Cardinal had seemed so kind, too… after all that had transpired. He was soft, and gentle… mostly. He respected you in a way that Heaven hadn’t. He showed you a new kind of living that you never would have experienced beyond your celestial borders. Could he really be capable of such treatment again? To have you go from how close you were to the very start of your… relationship all over again? You couldn’t fathom it. You didn’t want to.

You stayed out all day, contemplating your life and your future, only heading back when dusk had fallen and you knew the Cardinal wouldn’t be there.

Arriving back to the apartment, nothing appeared off at first. Everything looked to be in perfect order, exactly how you’d left it. You removed your shoes and wandered over to the bookshelf to find a book to read only to remember that you had a new one in the bedroom that you’d borrowed from the library. You opened the door and began to search for it with your eyes only when you saw it.

The cage that held your halo was unlocked and the door had been left open.

You froze in your space, your grip tightening on the door handle. He never would have done this purposefully, surely? This gave you too much power. You could reach in and take it… you could leave at a moment’s notice and he’d never suspect a thing until it was too late. You should walk away, go and find him and tell him that he’d left it open and that he should close it again.

Yet you walked towards the cage. Your feet were moving you of their own accord, pulling you faster and faster towards the cage until eventually you were there, as close as you could physically be without harming yourself. You could feel the heat of the hellfire emanating from the forged metal, that was how close your skin was to utter disaster.

You could just reach in and grab it.

You could just reach in and grab it.

Nothing was stopping you.

No one was there to stop you.

You reached into the cage, breaths quickening from nerves but also the power your halo held, much purer than your body now. Your hand moved down, a finger barely skimming the surface when you felt an electric current pulse into your body from the halo, not recognising you at first. Two demonic trials and an attempted third, plus months of sin. Your halo hurt you for the first time ever. Getting it into your hands was more painful than last time, but eventually you stood there, in front of the cage, halo in the palms of your hands and holding it delicately like you were about to smash it.

Copia found you like that, eyes trained on the glowing light cradled in your fingers. You looked terrified yet desperate. Your body was sweating, your chest heaving with irregular and shallow breaths. You looked like an addict resisting temptation to relapse.

“Angel?” he asked, softly.

You snapped your gaze up at him, pupils blown and eyes widened.

He stepped cautiously into the room, holding his hands out to show you he meant no harm. “Angel, come back to me,” he requested, regarding you warily.

Once you’d got used to the pure holy light again, your mind regained some clarity. Enough for you to comprehend the gravity of the situation.

“Th-the door was open,” you said. Your mouth felt dry, as though your very tastebuds were the grains of sand in the Sahara.

“I know… I did it purposefully.”

“Wh-what?”

“Angel,” he took on a more serious tone, “I’m giving you your freedom back. Entirely. No strings attached. You deserved this a long time ago, I was just a little scared. I…” he exhaled a shaky breath. “I was scared that you’d leave once you got your halo back… That you wouldn’t want to stay here… with me. And while I wouldn’t blame you for leaving, I would want you to stay. I l- care… no. If I want you to stay, I have to be honest. You shouldn’t stay just for ‘care’.

“I lo…” Hesitation. “I love you. I treated you like shit before, and I’ll pay for that for the rest of our lives, I swear, but… I don’t think I could breathe if you weren’t around any more. If I didn’t wake up next to you every night and admire your sleeping face before you woke up to catch me. If I didn’t have you pottering around here with your books and questions, and fascination with humanity. You consume all of my thoughts, every single hour of the day I’m thinking of you; wondering if you’re okay, needing to be next to you because I might die if I wasn’t.”

“Imperator,” you said, unable to fully formulate a sentence.

“If you stayed, she’d have to go,” he told you, his voice firm and resolute. “She’s plagued me for 400 years, at this point. A thorn in my side since the moment she made me turn her. I was more than happy to bury her at the right time centuries ago, but that time never came. I want you. I choose you. I’m more than happy to send her to Hell where she belongs. I won’t let her hurt you again. I can’t. We could do it together… fight her together. Rule the church together.” He held out his hand for you to take. “What do you say?”

“I-” You looked back at your halo, taking your eyes away from your pleading lover momentarily to fully digest the information. Love. You’d seen many forms of it, in religious devotion, familial, romantic, sexual, platonic. Perhaps you loved the Almighty once, your angelic colleagues, the subjects of your Lord who abade his rules and spread kindness over violence. Did you love the Cardinal? You couldn’t be sure. You were infatuated, that much you knew to be true. He was a welcome respite from the pressures of Heaven, when he was good, of course. But did you love him enough to stay in Hell on Earth with him? Did you love him enough to jeopardise everything you’d worked for in the millennia you’d been alive?

God, you’d been alive so long. Too long. And it had only been in the last year or so where you truly felt as though you’d been living. Copia was the one who gave you that gift… alongside the physical, emotional, and mental scars. He was offering you freedom - freedom with him, or freedom alone.

Was this all a lie? A desperate man bearing his soul to you to get you to stay and fulfil his wishes. All the books you’d read, all the lives you’d watched, all the love you’d witnessed, all those lives had been built on mutual respect and understanding. People cared for their partners and their partner’s minds and opinions. The relationships they had weren’t solitary… inclusive of their lover’s thoughts and feelings.

Copia didn’t include yours. That declaration of love was him telling you that you’d relieve a great burden in his mind that would make him feel so much better.

He’d kill his own mother to keep you safe.

He wanted her gone anyway! Whether you helped him or not, she’d be dead before dawn. It’s an excuse.

He loves you, you should stay.

He loves how easy you are to manipulate.

A man who manipulated wouldn’t cry like that.

He would, he - he’s crying?

You looked back up at him, hearing his breaths shaking and confirming your own thoughts by the tears forming in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your mind made up.

Copia stepped to the side, freeing the doorway for you. He looked away, out the window and into the garden, using his gloves to wipe his tears away. You paid little heed to it, charging out the door and running, halo in hand and heading for the open world. As soon as you were outside, your wings stretched and you flew away. You didn’t know your destination, or what you’d find, but you needed to go.

You just kept going, tears burning your eyes and blurring your vision, forcing you to make a swift landing only a kilometre north from the Ministry.

He loved you. You left him.

It was that moment, with the distance between you, that you realised you loved him, too. That the heartbreak you were feeling wasn’t because of any betrayal you’d convinced yourself he’d done, but because you hurt him deeply. You’d cut a wound just as deep as how you felt. You had unwittingly inflicted wounds as grievous as those you nursed within yourself. It was a symphony of suffering, a duet of shattered souls, each note resonating with the raw ache of love found and lost, and lost because of you.

Perhaps if you went back, he’d forgive you. He loved you. If you told him how you felt, you could fix this. You could fix this! Hell, you could see the Ministry’s spire, you were barely off the grounds!

You spread your wings and prepared to take flight again when you felt hands on your wings. A clap of thunder sounded over you, yet no lightning followed. No rain poured from the sky.

Your heart sank. You turned to see the owner of the hands only to see… “Michael!”

“Greetings unto thee,” Michael said, a small smile on his face. “Verily, it hath been a time long in passing.”

“Let me go.” You began to struggle against the angels that held you back.

“And dost thou flee unto the shelter of Lucifer… Nay, I say unto thee, it shall not be so.”

“It has been a while, why would you concern yourself with me now?”

“For the wrath of our Lord is kindled against thee. He seeketh thy chastisement and retribution.”

“Our Lord, Michael? Or you?”

“Truth be told, I yearn for thy casting into the Abyss. Yet, only by the decree of the Almighty shall thy demise be wrought. I am but a humble servant, ready to execute the judgment for such transgression.”

You struggled more. “You could have come sooner. I was in need of a rescue when I first fell.”

“Hadst thou not the need for deliverance? Behold thee now, engulfed in sin, its stench emanating from thy defiled form. Whither hath thy purity fled?”

“I lived for myself and not for Him. I was happy.”

“Nevertheless, thou didst flee.”

“A momentary lapse. I will return.”

“Thou shalt not.”

“What?”

“Dost thou truly believe we would suffer thee to set thy foot upon that sacred ground once more, now that thy sins are laid bare? Permit thee to complete those unholy rites and become a thrall unto Satan? Place at risk all we have wrought, the Grand Design, because thou couldst not restrain thy carnal desires? Nay. Thou shalt return unto Heaven with us, and nevermore shalt thou depart.”

“You can’t do this!” you shouted, fighting against the angels harder.

You continued to fight even as the Earth got smaller and smaller beneath you until it had disappeared entirely. It was only then when you entered the Heavenly realm, you realised…

In the struggle, you’d dropped your halo.

Hello, everyone!

I just wanted to take this moment to thank you all so, so much for your support for this series. There has been so much love to come out of it and I'm so touched and honoured that you've enjoyed it enough to come back for each chapter. All your comments, art, support and everything else truly means the world to me. So thank you so much!

And thank you to the person who commissioned this fic! Thank you for your patience and for trusting me with your idea. I'm very grateful!

Here's to Kinktober!

Mel

Prev./Next

[her-satanic-wiles]

Dawn Chorus - III

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 6.8k.

Reading Time: 27min.

Warnings: asshole!Copia, blood extraction,drunk!Copia, mild sexual harassment?? (there’s nothing inherently sexual about what he’s doing, but it is uncomfortable and I wanted to tag it just to be safe), non-consensual rituals,restrained with ropes, rituals, soul modification, tied with ropes, use of needles

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @antoniamarie1989

🔞 MDNI 🔞

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

The echoing of a choir sung eerily in your mind, the song slow and sombre as the melody continued. The same tune, verse by verse, sticking to your brain like glue; the lyrics haunting your waking moments. In an ironic turn of events, despite all your doubts and building hatred for the Great Creator, you found a morbid comfort in the songs the morals sung in gratitude, praising Him for their life however it looked, grateful for His grace. In your time watching the world go by, in the silence of your solitude and between visits from the creature that saw you as livestock and nothing more, those voices rang out to you, the lyrics tumbling from your lips and you found yourself joining the chorus.

“Nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!

E’en though it be a cross that raiseth me,

Still all my song shall be,

Nearer, my God, to thee;

Nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!”

The mortal desire to walk amongst Him both on this plane and in Heaven. It made you want to laugh. It was your wish to do the same thing, hold an audience with Him, breathe the air He created as He exhaled it. And look where it got you: locked in a cage, holy light dimming, and blood drained twice a week for your troubles by a being that took pleasure in your discomfort if it meant a night of intoxication for him. Your resolve was still strong, you still were sure that you’d escape, yet you sat atop a mountain of failed plans and played a waiting game before you could try something new.

“Though like the wanderer, the sun gone down,

Darkness be over me, my rest a stone;

Yet in my dreams I’d be

Nearer, my God, to thee;

Nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!”

There was nothing darker than the shadow of Satan, the fallen angel who despised the Lord so much, he actively worked to depose Him. Perhaps it was the nature of the building you were trapped in, the unholy scriptures you’d hear during Monday’s service, or the attitude of the Sister and the Cardinal, but you’d commit unforgivable sins if you were to hide the fact that you’d thought a great deal on the subject while trapped in this gilded cage. Was Lucifer right in his actions? Was he truly onto something? Did he know something about the Almighty the rest of you had been programmed to look passed and not notice?

You remembered hearing stories about Lucifer’s departure from Heaven when you were new to that life. Unlike your superiors, you weren’t old enough to have been there in person to witness the events unfolding. Thus, you were forced to rely on retellings from the angels who were brave enough to talk about it. Brave or stupid, given Lucifer’s story was forbidden to discuss.

Lucifer was once one of the most glorious and powerful angels in Heaven. He was created by God as a radiant and magnificent being, endowed with great beauty, wisdom, and authority.

However, Lucifer’s unparalleled beauty and lofty position led to pride and ambition within him. He began to desire to ascend even higher, seeking to exalt himself above God and to become equal to or greater than the Almighty. This prideful ambition grew into rebellion, as Lucifer sought to challenge the authority of God and establish his own dominion.

In his arrogance, Lucifer rallied a faction of angels to his cause, persuading them to join him in his rebellion against God’s rule. Together, they launched a revolt in Heaven, seeking to overthrow the divine order and seize control of the celestial realms.

But their rebellion was swiftly and decisively crushed by the forces of God’s loyal angels, led by the archangel Michael. In a great battle, Lucifer and his followers were defeated and cast out of Heaven, their rebellion crushed and their ambitions shattered.

As punishment for his pride and rebellion, Lucifer was cast down from Heaven and condemned to eternal damnation. He became known as Satan, the adversary, and was banished to the depths of Hell, where he would reign as the ruler of darkness and the chief antagonist to God and humanity.

The stories you were always taught showed Lucifer in a negative light, so power-hungry and greedy, convinced he could overthrow Him and rule in His stead. Now, after experiencing the wrath of Heaven, and God’s heedlessness towards both you and the mortals He created, you wondered if Lucifer was really greedy, or if he was informed of the Almighty’s incompetence and wanted to do more.

“There let the way appear, steps unto Heaven;

All that thou sendest me, in mercy given;

Angels to beckon me

Nearer, my Go -”

“Would you knock it off?”

The sound of the Cardinal’s voice had you turning around in a quick snap, looking at the doorway of his room. His voice was slurred but clear enough that you could understand him perfectly. “You’re too fucking loud.” His make up was running in places from the sweat and the evening’s activities, and you could see the dawn peeking through the gaps in the curtains.

“I shan’t,” you shouted back, a glee in your voice that shouldn’t be there. The longer you kept him awake and poked at him, the easier it would be to get him to open the door and then pass out - allowing you to escape.

“Disobey me and see what happens to you.”

“Thou wilt take no action,” you chided with confidence.

“‘Thou wilt’,” he repeated, “Why do you talk like that?” He asked, staggering over to the cage. He cackled, the cackle that mortals do when they’re heavily inebriated. “It’s funny.”

“Thus do we angels converse in Heaven, when in the company of the Almighty and His warriors.” You murmured, your voice soft and reverent.

The Cardinal hissed at the mention of God. “Fuck him. And fuck you, too!” He smacked the side of the cage and chuckled. “I don’t-” he burped. “Why were you singing? Just now… only happy people sing.”

You stared at him in confusion, you’d seen drunk mortals before, but your blood had turned this guy into the biggest idiot you’d ever seen. ���I have naught else to occupy my time. Even caged birds sing; perchance ‘tis what mortals dub as ‘yearning’.”

“Yearn quieter then.”

“I shall yearn as loudly as I so desire.”

“Not while I’m in the room, you won’t.”

“Then, with my waking thoughts -”

“No.”

“bright with thy praise -”

“You can’t even sing.”

“Out of my stony griefs -”

“I said, shut up!” he roared, demanding your silence. You obeyed this time, given his fist collided with the cage and dented the side. “I never asked for dinner and a show.” He laughed at himself a little, until what he said sank in and he bent over, laughing harder. Once he’d composed himself, he stood straight and wiped the tears from his eyes. “If you’re gonna sing - at least sing something good.”

He walked over to a square box in the corner and picked up another square thing. This time it was red. You stared at it with your brows furrowed, trying to make sense of it. A black and red, circular object came out of the sleeve, and he placed it inside the square box. After a little maneuvering, sound began to pour from the box and into the room.

It was a droning sound, resembling wind whipping through a forest in the dead of night, designed to strike fear into the hearts of anyone listening. You shivered, your body growing cold at the sensation - the fear of being chased seeming to be too much for you to even think about let alone experience. Then, suddenly, a voice rang out.

“Ring-a-ring of roses,

A pocket full of posies,

Atishoo! Atishoo!

We all fall down.

Ashes on the water,

Ashes in the sea,

Ashes on the riverside,

One, two, three!”

The melody was interrupted by what you assumed to be a guitar, the sudden sound of which made you jump in fright. You’d heard about mortals and their modern proclivities with music - and how they’d made all kinds of sounds with the Almighty’s instruments. You’d never heard this before, used only to the sounds of orchestral beauty and choir singers in their various Houses of God.

“The guy who wrote this,” the Cardinal began, enthusiastically pointing to the music maker and shouting over the loud sounds, “has two little semen demons. They sang that. Genius!”

The music changed into a second song, a more upbeat tempo but still with a heavy sound. A different voice sang that time, definitely a grown man.

“In times of turmoil

In times like these

Beliefs contagious

Spreading disease

This wretched mischief -”

“The bard’s voice resemblances thine!” You shouted back to him.

The Cardinal shook his head. “What!?”

You made your voice louder. “I said: The singer doth resemble thee!”

He huffed and went to turn the music down. “What?” He snapped.

“I said: The bard’s voice resemblances thine.”

“Oh,” he smiled, “it is me.”

You blinked for a second, comprehending the information that had just passed through your ears. The Cardinal made music, and he was playing it to you… while you were trapped in a cage… in his bedroom… “Dost thou not feel ashamed?” you asked him, genuine intrigue in your voice.

“Why would I feel ashamed?”

“Pride is a sin. And thou art compelling me to listen to thy music without my request. According to mortal social conventions, is this not cause for embarrassment?”

He turned the music up. “I can’t hear you! The music’s too loud!”

“I said: Pride is a sin! And thou art -” He turned the music up and gestured to his ears, silently telling you that he couldn’t hear you while he danced and sang along to his own music.

“Will suffer punishments beneath the wrath of God

Never to forgive

Never to forgive

Them rats!”

You watched as the man continued to dance, even while the sun got brighter from behind the shades. The small amount of sunlight that trickled in wasn’t enough to hurt him, but you wished it was.

Songs ended and began again only to renew the cycle over and over until eventually, another song played that was very upbeat and the Cardinal seemed pleased by it. You saw an opportunity, “What be the title of this melody?”

“Dance Macabre.”

“Thou shouldst release me from this enclosure.”

He laughed. “You want to dance, little angel?”

You hesitated. “Aye?”

He fumbled with his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, placing the smallest one in the keyhole of your now dented cage. You heard the sound of the locks opening, and the door swinging wide to let you out. The Cardinal swayed, in part to the music, in part to his intoxication, but unlike his treatment of you thus far, he held out his hand for you to take. You stood and eyed him suspiciously, unsure if this was another trick to hurt you with. But when he shook his hand, gesturing you to take it, you obliged, feeling his leather clad hand wrap around your naked fingers and ease you out of the cage with a gentility you’d never experienced before. You took the opportunity to flap your wings, stretching them out while you could, because you didn’t know how long he’d have you out of your prison.

He pulled you away from the cage and let you go, choosing to dance instead of keeping you held to him. The door was left ajar and you looked at it once, then looked back at the Cardinal hoping that he didn’t see your glance. He didn’t.

But just as you were about to make a break for it, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over you, threatening to send you sprawling to the ground. You staggered, clutching at the nearest piece of furniture for support, your heart pounding in your chest.

The Cardinal’s laughter echoed in your ears, mocking and derisive. “Where do you think you’re going, little angel?” he slurred, his voice dripping with contempt. “You belong to me now. Did the Sister not tell you just how much Hell-metal is in here?” He pulled you to his body and forced you to dance. “Contingencies, my angel. Contingencies!”

“Thou must permit me to depart. ‘Tis not equitable.” You whined, staring at the door. You tried to push him off of you and make a second run for it - to which he just held on tightly. In the struggle, he pushed you backwards into his bed-frame and making you fall back onto it with him landing on top of you. Your wings splayed out against the black sheets, and his arms were still around your waist, clinging onto you like a koala.

“You’re mine, little angel,” he muttered into your chest where his head lay and his words muffled. “You’re not going anywhere.”

You tried to push him off of you but your strength wasn’t anywhere near what it should have been, meaning that when he fell asleep on you, still clutching onto your body, you had no way to push him off, the open door staring at you, taunting you for your weaknesses.

The bed was comfortable beneath you, and you could feel yourself sinking into it. You didn’t remember the last time you felt something soft beneath your wings, feeling so warm and welcomed by the sweet embrace of plush-soft linens and a mattress that absorbed both of your weights, you could feel the ache of your bones melt away, the soreness of your muscles heal, and your eyes closed. If only for a moment, you could enjoy the bliss and the comfort that had been offered to you, even if it was an accidental, drunken moment by your captor.

“Wake up!”

You woke up to something ice cold being thrown on you, drenching your entire body in freezing cold water that stole the breath from your lungs and soaked your white robes. Your eyes snapped open immediately, and your body scrambled away from the offending wetness, crawling up the bed and making it wetter with each move you made. When you finally locked eyes on the culprit, you gulped at the sight of her. It was the Sister, flanked by three ghouls. She was handing the now empty bucket to one of them, who took it from her with a respectful bow and disappeared out the open door.

“The audacity of you to sleep in your master’s bed!” the Sister began to scold.

“He placed me herein. He was inebriated! I lacked the strength to repel him,” you protested quickly, panic in your voice.

The Sister smirked. “It didn’t take him long to fuck you did it?”

“Long for… what?” You flushed when you realised what she meant. “I can assure thee, my virtue remains unsullied.”

The Sister raised her eyebrows. “Mhmm. And I’m a pig that can fly.”

“Indeed, I had no intention of uttering aught.”

The Sister chuckled dryly, her smirk widening as she replied, “Well, if pigs could fly, perhaps they’d have a better chance of avoiding the mess you’ve found yourself in. Remember, song bird, I’m still perfectly happy in my pig pen with the muck that surrounds me. You’re the dove who’s out of place.”

You donned your own smirk. “And yet, only one among us possesseth the capability to soar above the mire.”

“For now. ghouls?”

The ghouls moved forward and you jumped away, launching off the bed and diving into a corner. Catching you proved tricky for both of them, given your sleep had allowed you to be more rested than before, though, you were still running out of stamina. The longer they toyed with you, and the more you ran, the more strength you used up until you were almost completely out. They caught you, despite your valiant attempts to escape. And soon enough, the Sister was leading you all out of the Cardinal’s quarters and into a whole new section of the building: the Basilica di Lilith.

Named after Adam’s first wife before Eve was even considered, Lilith, a figure of defiance and rebellion, was given her own space of sanctity and adoration. According to some interpretations, she was a beautiful woman cast out of the Garden of Eden for demanding equality and daring to disobey Adam. Dubbed by the demonic as “our mother who never was,” Lilith was said to be cursed to live out her existence as a demon, forever feared and shunned by humanity. However, she found a place of reverence within the Satanic Church, where she was honoured and respected. The main space of worship was dedicated solely to her, adorned and tended to by her supposed daughters, perpetuating her legacy of defiance and independence in a house that stole from the Saints.

The Basilica, with its pristine white stone and Gothic architecture, stood as a symbol of reverence and sanctity for the congregation. Pointed archways and intricately carved Italian columns adorned the space, framing the dark wooden pews that lined the centre aisle. Above, the cream-colored ceiling soared, punctuated by pointed arches that reached up to the towering columns in both the nave and choir loft.

However, the sacredness of the space was marred by the presence of blasphemous depictions adorning its walls. Specifically commissioned stained glass windows depicted Lilith’s purported role in Eden, her fall from grace, and her demonisation. These depictions served as a stark reminder of this church’s departure from orthodox teachings and its descent into heresy.

At the heart of the sanctuary stood a statue of a disrobed Lilith, her arms outstretched in defiance. Behind her loomed the figure of Baphomet, a symbol of Satanism, with one hand resting on her shoulder and the other on her stomach. This grotesque representation of Lilith’s supposed significance in the Church was housed in a dark wooden alcove crafted with a pointed tip akin to their Holy counterparts, further distorting the sacred space. The statue, carved from bright white marble, stood in stark contrast to its surroundings, a glaring affront to the traditional Christian beliefs upheld by the congregation.

For devout followers of the Almighty, and even you, the desecration of this sacred building with such sacrilegious imagery was a cause for great distress. It served as a stark reminder of the dangers of straying from the teachings of the Almighty and succumbing to the influences of darkness and heresy. And, being a hallowed being, you could feel your skin tingling with the droplets of demonic entities and the mists of Hell swirling through this unhallowed hall.

In front of the statue was the Cardinal, a paintbrush in his hand where he’d painted a red, Satanic pentagram on the floor. He turned to look at you when he heard the commotion of your struggling and screaming out in pain, your bare feet being pulled along the marble floor. He smiled at you, an unsettling warm look that made chills run down your spine. That was when you put up some more resistance, only to realise how futile it actually was. Once you were inside the pentagram, the ghouls pushed you to your knees tied your wings, ankles, and wrists, to keep you there and stop you from escaping no matter how much you struggled.

Your eyes caught a flicker of something in the Cardinal’s, but you couldn’t place the feeling exactly. There was a hesitation to his actions, though he followed through with them once he’d pushed through whatever battle he was fighting in his mind. The Sister, though, never wavered, and both of them continued to look upon you with an uneasy happiness that mimicked the face of the Devil.

“What dost thou intend to do with me?” you asked, still fighting against the ropes.

They had no intention of responding to your question, acting as though you weren’t actually there, until the Sister had opened the ancient, chunky book to the correct page, and finally addressed you. “The process will begin soon unless you willingly tell us what we want to know,” the Sister told you definitively, leaving no room for negotiations or arguments. “If we can’t control you through your halo, we’ll change your soul until you bow to us. This is your final chance. What is Yhwh’s plan? What weaknesses does he have?”

You winced at the sound of the Almighty’s name, one that you were never permitted to speak. His name was for the higher angels, and the higher members of His congregation to use only in respect when talking about Him. Everyone else had to use his titles.

As usual, you refused to give any answers, knowing it would land you in more trouble in Heaven than it would on the mortal realms. Though, you were sure Heaven wouldn’t welcome you back now, there was always a hope, a prayer that lingered in the back of your mind, wishing that you could return home. And so, they began… and it wasn’t until they’d begun chanting from one of their books, you realised exactly what this was.

You’d heard stories about this before, Angels being forcefully turned into demonic entities against their will. If an angel has willingly fallen from grace and turned to Satan, there is no pain or ritual involved necessarily, their hearts and wings just turn black, their halos turn red until eventually the Holy Light within had died and the halo was of no more use. But forceful turning such as this, required meticulously planned rituals that took five months to complete, five full moons, and five rituals, one for each point of the pentagram. They were going to turn you into a demon… and they were going to change your entire being just so they could find out the Almighty’s plans and weaknesses.

By the sounds of the Latin you were hearing, this was the ritual of corruption. This ritual involved exposing the angel to dark energies and corrupting influences, gradually eroding their purity and innocence. They used ancient incantations and unholy relics to channel these corruptive forces onto the angel, slowly tainting their soul and weakening their connection to the divine. But, unbeknownst to them, the ritual would only partially work, because your connection to the divine had already weakened with every instance you questioned the Almighty, and begun to loathe Him for His actions.

When the ritual was done, you felt no different than before. There was no pain, no mental cloudiness - nothing. You were still you. There was a part of you that wondered if the ritual had actually worked, because surely you’d feel… something. Perhaps it was the bumbling idiocy of the Cardinal that spoiled the ritual. Perhaps it was the terrible Latin pronunciation of the Sister that ruined it, you couldn’t say. And neither could they. Thus, with a vow to continue until the end regardless of if it worked or not, you were dragged, still bound, back to the Cardinals rooms to be locked back into your cage.

Days passed, and you paid witness to the unfolding life of the Cardinal, who would spend most of his down time drinking your blood and getting intoxicated with his hellish ghouls. He paid you no mind unless he needed more of your blood, treating you like a pet more than a humanoid being. He would get out the shower and appear only in his towel as he got ready for the night ahead, he would play music whenever he felt like it, work in his bedroom rather than his living and study room, choose to drink the blood of members of the Clergy in his bed so you could see him do that. Multiple people at a time, choosing to give themselves to him to feast upon. And you were disgusted the whole time, watching him feast on other’s blood just as he had with you, and enjoying how uncomfortable it made you the entire time.

Every other day, when the Cardinal had left to go and do his “duties”, the door would open and his cleaner would enter the room, and this would turn out to be your favourite time of the night. He exuded an air of quiet efficiency and unassuming presence. His appearance was unremarkable at first glance, yet upon closer inspection, subtle details hinted at a depth of character and experience.

He was of average height, with a lean and wiry build that spoke of strength and agility. His hair, a shade of dark chestnut brown, was cropped short and neatly groomed, framing a face that bore the weathered lines of someone who had seen their fair share of hardships. His features were angular and defined, with piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold a wealth of untold stories and hidden depths.

Dressed in a simple uniform of black trousers and a crisp white shirt, the cleaner moved with a quiet grace and purpose, his movements fluid and precise. Despite the monotony of his task, there was a sense of pride in his workmanship, evident in the meticulous care with which he attended to his duties.

As he went about his work, the soft glow of candlelight cast gentle shadows across his rugged features, accentuating the strength and resolve that lay beneath his unassuming exterior. Though his presence went unnoticed by many, to those who took the time to observe, there was a quiet dignity and integrity that emanated from him, a testament to his unwavering commitment to his craft.

He wasn’t supposed to speak to you - no, not even look at you. But telling a man to not look at the angel in a gilded cage was a surefire way to get him to do the thing he wasn’t supposed to. In all your time spent in the mortal realm, you’d come to learn that all of the Almighty’s male creations had a penchant for defiancy, taking the word ‘no’ as an invitation to continue to do the thing. And so, once he realised that no harm would come to him when he looked at you, he would glance over then dart his eyes away when you realised he was watching you. When you waved, he waved back, tucking his pink lips into his teeth and giving an awkward smile that showed his discomfort but told you that he was at least kind. That wave turned into a brief, “Good evening,” as he entered the room to begin his chores, until eventually, he was striking full blown conversations with you.

The Cardinal’s cleaner, known as Brother Thomas to all the members of the clergy, possessed a quiet dignity and a gentle demeanor that belied the strength and resilience within him. He was a man of few words, preferring instead to let his actions speak for themselves. Despite the demanding nature of his job, Brother Thomas approached his duties with unwavering dedication and meticulous attention to detail.

Born into humble beginnings, Thomas had faced his fair share of challenges and hardships throughout his life. Yet, he bore these trials with stoicism and grace, drawing strength from his unwavering faith and inner resolve. He was a man of integrity and principle, guided by a strong moral compass that steered him through life’s tumultuous waters.

In his spare moments, Brother Thomas could often be found lost in thought, reflecting on the mysteries of life and the complexities of the human condition. He possessed a keen intellect and a thirst for knowledge, delving into books and literature to expand his understanding of the world around him.

Despite his reserved nature, Thomas harbored a deep well of compassion and empathy for those around him. He had a knack for putting others at ease with his quiet presence and genuine kindness, offering a comforting shoulder to lean on in times of need.

To those who took the time to get to know him, Brother Thomas was a steadfast friend and confidant, a beacon of stability and support in an ever-changing world. Though he may have been overlooked by some, to those who truly saw him for who he was, Brother Thomas was a shining example of humility, strength, and grace.

Thomas’ decision to join the Satanic Ministry was born out of a complex interplay of personal experiences and ideological shifts. While on the surface it may seem contradictory for someone of his character and background to align with such an organization, there were several key factors that influenced his decision. Despite his unwavering dedication to his Catholic beliefs, Thomas experienced a profound crisis of faith following a series of personal tragedies. The loss of loved ones and witnessing injustices in the world shook his belief in the benevolence of God and the efficacy of traditional religious teachings. Over time, Brother Thomas became disillusioned with the hierarchical structure and institutionalized dogma of the Catholic Church. He witnessed firsthand the hypocrisy and corruption within its ranks, leading him to question its authority and legitimacy.

Thomas was drawn to the Satanic Ministry’s emphasis on individualism, personal empowerment, and the rejection of arbitrary authority. He found solace in the principles of self-reliance and personal responsibility advocated by Satanism, seeing it as a path towards greater autonomy and self-actualization. Despite its provocative name and associations, Thomas resonated with many of the core tenets of Satanism, such as the pursuit of knowledge, rational inquiry, and the celebration of human potential. He found common ground with fellow members who shared his commitment to intellectual freedom and critical thinking.

All of this information, you got out of him while he was cleaning the Cardinal’s rooms, for once he got started, he just simply couldn’t stop. But, as he was one of the first people to keep you company, and treat you kindly, you couldn’t ever bring yourself to interrupt him, or stop his babbling however incessant it had become. Over the course of a few weeks, you were able to share your story too, the pair of you finding common ground in the disillusion of the Almighty and the questions that ultimately had you both shunned from your respective societies.

Brother Thomas had told you that he’d wanted to meet you ever since he found out you were there, but the Cardinal told people that you were feral and dangerous, and not to be disturbed. “I see now that was all a lie,” he told you, sitting on the end of the Cardinal’s bed and making himself comfortable.

You sighed, and made yourself as comfortable as you could inside your cage. “It doth appear that he desires to retain me solely for himself. I hold greater worth to him when concealed from sight.”

“Well, your wings alone would go for a fortune, no wonder this room is kept under constant watch.” You clutched onto your wings protectively, as if Brother Thomas had the inclination to steal them from you. “No, no! I wouldn’t! But there are others who would.”

“The Cardinal already partakes of my blood as he wishes. Wherefore should my wings be any different?” Your voice was small, smaller than you intended it to be.

Thomas looked appalled. “He doesn’t?” He didn’t doubt you, not one bit. But he didn’t know what else he could say.

“He doth indeed. Near unto slaying me with each extraction. Then, he returns me hither to recuperate until the next occasion.”

“That’s disgusting! I’m so sorry.”

“I desire to depart from this abode,” you told him, looking at the Cardinal’s carpeted floors. “I draw near to freedom, yet each attempt ends in failure.”

Brother Thomas was quiet for a moment. “Maybe I could help?”

You looked at him, eyes widened in surprise. “Thou wouldst undertake such a task on my behalf? Wilt thou not incur retribution?”

“Well, I left one religious organisation because of their barbaric opinions and actions. What’s a second one?” Thomas shrugged nonchalantly. “Besides, no one should live like this.”

“Thou art the most gracious being to have ever lived.”

He pushed back hair that wasn’t there, as if to prove his excellence. “What can I say? I’m an angel,” he joked. And for the first time since falling, you laughed. The joke wasn’t funny by any means, but it was the first time someone had actively tried to make you feel better, and so you just couldn’t stop the giggles as they fell from your lips.

A plan was devised. Brother Thomas would provide you with a change of clothes and a cloak to conceal your angelic appearance. By blending in with the surroundings and adopting a more inconspicuous guise, you would be able to move about unnoticed. You agreed upon a specific window of opportunity for you to make your escape, choosing a moment when the guards were likely to be distracted or preoccupied. Brother Thomas would keep a watchful eye on the movements of the ministry members, alerting you when the time was right. Brother Thomas would map out a discreet route for you to follow, guiding you through the labyrinthine corridors and hidden passages of the Ministry headquarters. He would provide you with detailed instructions and navigational cues to ensure a smooth and swift exit. All you’d have to do, was make sure the Cardinal was intoxicated enough to fall asleep on you again, where you’d be able to snatch the keys from him and keep them hidden on your person until Thomas was able to get you out. He was good, but he wasn’t that good. All that remained was to wait.

The waiting was the hardest part, because you would still see Thomas every other day as planned, and he would still sit and talk to you, provide you with some comfort until he absolutely had to go.

Until one day, he came into the Cardinal’s room a little more excited than normal. “The window,” he said, breathlessly, “of opportunity is coming! Next week, the Cardinal and the Sister will be preoccupied with visiting an abbey north of here, in Sweden, I think. They won’t be here.”

“Art thou certain they wilt not desire to take me along with them?” You asked, standing up in your excitement.

“I don’t see how they can,” he replied, mirroring your excitement. “They’d need to transport an angel and her cage, all without raising suspicion. And what with the current crime rates and trafficking laws, you’re bound to attract attention they don’t want! It’s perfect!”

“‘Tis a splendid notion! But what of the remainder of the clergy? Shall they still abide herein?”

Brother Thomas frowned. “It won’t be easy. But, there are ways we can-”

“Angel! I’m home!”

Your stomach dropped at the sound of a third voice coming from the entrance door in the next room over. The Cardinal was home, and he wasn’t supposed to be. Your heart raced as you heard the Cardinal’s voice echoing through the corridors, an unexpected intrusion on your carefully laid plans. Panic seized you as you realized that Thomas was still in the room with you, and the Cardinal’s presence meant imminent danger. “Thou must conceal thyself!” You whisper-shouted. You pointed to the Cardinal’s bed. “Conceal thyself beneath that!”

“He’s a vampyre, he’ll know!” Thomas protested.

“‘Tis the optimal choice we possess. I shall divert his attention, and thou seize the chance to flee!”

With a sense of urgency, Thomas scrambled to conceal himself, his movements frantic yet silent as he slipped beneath the bed frame.

Meanwhile, the Cardinal’s footsteps grew louder and closer, each one sending a shiver down your spine. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you waited, breath held, for the inevitable confrontation.

The door creaked open just as Thomas’ foot had disappeared underneath, and the Cardinal’s shadow loomed large in the doorway, his presence casting a sinister pall over the room. Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched him cautiously approach, his eyes scanning the room with a predatory gleam.

You held your breath, praying that Thomas remained undetected beneath the bed, as the Cardinal drew nearer and nearer. Every creak of the floorboards seemed to echo like thunder in the silence, heightening the tension to unbearable levels.

Just when you thought you couldn’t bear the suspense any longer, the Cardinal’s gaze swept over the room, lingering for a moment on your cage before moving on. With a dismissive grunt, he turned away, oblivious to the danger lurking beneath the bed. In his hands was the box containing the usual blood draining equipment. “Did my ears deceive me, Angel? Or did I hear you talking to someone?” He asked, his tone making his suspicion obvious.

“I spake but unto myself,” you replied, trying to keep your voice lighthearted and normal. “Singing more hymns, yet the words escape me.”

The Cardinal walked over to the side of the bed that Brother Thomas had dived under. “No, I’m sure I heard a man.” He placed the box down exactly where Thomas’ foot was.

“Thou must be descending into madness, Cardinal. More so than thy usual state.”

The Cardinal raised his eyebrows. “Resorting to gaslighting, are we?”

You hissed, “What manner of deception is this? I am unfamiliar with it. A foul creature of the night would resort to any means to portray themselves as righteous.”

The Cardinal sighed, “Oh sweet angel, you’ve no idea the position you’re in, do you?” He fiddled with his keys and unlocked the cage door. “Come on, we need some more of that delicious blood of yours. Fight me, and you’ll regret it.”

Willingly, you did as you were told, following his direction to get on the bed and lie on your back. You were terrified, mostly because you knew that Thomas was still in the room and wouldn’t be able to leave while the Cardinal was there. It scared you to think that the Cardinal would find him, and what he’d do if he caught Thomas.

“Your heartbeat’s racing, Angel,” the Cardinal commented as he tied both your arms in tourniquets to find your veins. “You’re either scared, or falling in love with me.”

“Thine countenance is one that only a mother could cherish.” You snapped back.

“She does love me - she doesn’t always show it,” he inserted the first needle and directed the tube into the bottle’s open mouth, “but I know she does.”

“Perchance she is a simpleton.”

“Evil? Sometimes. Headstrong and narcissistic? Absolutely.” The Cardinal moved to the other side of the bed and repeated the motion with the second arm. “A simpleton? Certainly not. We’ve been alive for centuries, Angel, she’s concocted her fair share of schemes, and the majority have worked.”

“And do those schemes entail extracting an angel’s blood until she is nigh unto death?”

“Of course.” The Cardinal smiled - actually smiled. “It’s not often our kind can get a hold of your blood. It’ll go for millions of dollars on the market. We’ve made so many replicas of course, but none compare to the real thing.” He watched as your blood dripped into the wine bottles, four on each side. He planned to almost fully drain you tonight, apparently.

Your body had already begun to feel the effects of your blood dripping away from you, and your eyes grew heavier and heavier until, eventually, the last thing you felt was the Cardinal stroking your hair.

When you woke up, you were back in your cage and the Cardinal was sat in his bed, glasses perched on the end of his nose and eyes trained on a book. You were still feeling the effects of the blood loss, but you were certainly much better than before, your halo working hard in the cage next to you to try and get you back up and on your feet. You sat up and stretched, attracting the attention of the Cardinal, who smiled at you. “Ah, she’s awake at last.” He commented, looking at you over the top of his glasses. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel as though thou hast drained all my blood and brought me to the brink of death.” You tried to stand but your body was too weak. “For how long hath I been in slumber?”

“Five days,” the Cardinal looked back to his book, “your recovery time is getting longer. We’re going to have to start rationing if this keeps up. Or get another angel. Say, do you think we could use you as bait?”

“I pray thee choke and perish upon my blood.”

The Cardinal laughed, “If that happens,” the door to his bedroom knocked, then opened, “you’ll be stuck in that cage forever - ah! Brother López. Come in, please!”

The Brother opened the door wider and stepped inside, looking polite as he watched the Cardinal stand to greet him.

“Angel,” the Cardinal addressed you, “this is my new cleaner, Brother Santiago López.”

Prev. ⛧ Next