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starlight-starwrites · 5 months ago

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forehead kisses

din djarin x reader

summary: after din takes karga's offer of a cabin on nevarro, you find yourself joining the mandalorian and his adopted son on their bounty hunting adventures. or, five times you kiss the helmet and the one time you kiss him. wc: 3k warnings: some description of injuries, and my personal fave, yearning pining aching longing with heavy doses of fluff and smooching, and i revive a fan favorite character (the Razor Crest) note: banner by @janaispunk and fic written for her 1500 kisses celebration! i got the prompt forehead kisses and could not stop thinking of the potential. thank you so much for hosting this little challenge and congratulations jana!!!

The cockpit is quiet when you climb up. Din sits in the pilot’s seat, the only acknowledgment he knows you’re here is a slight turn of his head. You come to stand at his shoulder and gaze out the viewport at the expanse of stars.

“Call go well?”

“New job.”

“That’s fast,” you say. “Didn’t even get him back the last one.”

“Hot priority. Quarry is supposedly in this system.” Din relaxes back into the chair, finally turns to you. “The kid?”

“Asleep,” you answer. “Think he wore himself out with the…” you wave your hand in the mimic of the child’s magic. “He really likes playing with the new droid.”

Din grunts. “At least someone does.”

You laugh. “Be nice! R5 is very well-behaved.”

You hear his sigh through the helmet before he asks, “You don’t mind the detour?”

“No, of course not.” You lean your hip on the side of the chair, and Din’s bracer brushes your leg.

Your time spent traveling around with the Mandalorian and his adopted son has actually been some of the most relaxing bounty hunting you’ve ever done. They’re both more polite than you expected and it feels…domestic, even if the stream of gunfire and criminal cargo never stopped.

Din Djarin has been a surprise as well. What started as professional camaraderie has developed into an unspoken tenderness that puts a smile on your face and—if he ever took off the helmet to show you—maybe on his too.

“I can prep your locker and the carbon freeze. How long to the designated point?” You push off the chair where he sits.

“About an hour.” He looks up at you, reaches to squeeze your hand. “Thank you.”

You bend forward to press a quick kiss to the crown of his helm. “Don’t worry about it.”

You’re still smiling when you make it down to the hull of the Crest.

Nevarro was not the sort of planet you would think of as relaxing, but between Karga’s development of a well-respected port city and Din keeping one of the most quaint cabins you’ve ever visited, it has been the only place you can relax.

You carry a tin plate from the Mandalorian’s kitchen to the next room. Through the window you watch the kid wobble over the rocks to chase after a desperate frog. By now, the little critters know when he’s coming. At the table, Din sits scrolling through a datapad.

“Dinner is served,” you announce.

His visor raises to meet your gaze when you enter. “I could have gotten it.”

“I know.” You incline your head to the pad. “I had a feeling Greef got to you already. More work? We only got back this morning.” You set dinner in front of him, come around his side to look at the file over his shoulder.

“Just a side project,” he says. He closes out of the screen before you can read. “It can wait.”

“Well, well,” you say, raising your hands. “Keep your secrets then.”

He leans back in his chair to face you. “It’s not a secret.” His voice is dry, but he knows you’re teasing. “I wanted to thank you. You…saved my life today.”

“Oh, that?” It’s true. He fell off a building. You actually let him, before you remembered he wasn’t wearing his jetpack. In some odd stroke of luck you’d managed to steal some poor sod’s skyspeeder, catch the free-falling Mandalorian, and total the quarry’s speederbike in one arc with no casualties. “Hm, yes, I was thinking you should be the one serving me dinner.”

“Maybe I will.”

The way he says it catches you off guard. Your heart skips a beat.

“Next time then.” You smile, marvel at the frantic beating in your chest. Then you bump his shoulder with your hip. This time you’re bold enough to place a finger under the edge of his helmet, tilt his head a little more. You place a kiss to where his forehead would be. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you eat in peace.” You nod at the food getting cold, and leave him to do just that.

The hull of the Razor Crest is hard at your back. You sit on the floor, shoulder to shoulder with the Mandalorian.

“You know as much as I love the Crest…maybe it’s time to consider—”

“No.”

You sigh. The ship has landed ‘safely’ you’re glad to say. Grogu sits in Din’s lap. R5 is…a little banged up, but fine. The rest of the Crest? Complete disarray. Anything not tied down has been flung around, and there is a gaping hole across from where the four of you sit.

“She is an old ship.”

“She has seen worse.”

Sadly, you believe it. You lean closer to him, let yourself feel the relief of having made it. He leans into you, and the kid lets out a small sound like he’s disappointed too.

“Think we can find a mechanic for this one?” You raise a hand to gesture at the torn metal and frayed wires that frame the picturesque view of open fields and rock spires beyond them. Of all the places to be attacked, here is pretty nice.

You let your head fall to the side. Din shifts with a sigh, and his temple rests against yours. “We’re going to need more than a mechanic.”

You snort. After the distress of the last hour, it feels nice to sit like this. To relax. If that’s what you can call it.

You want to curl up beside him, long to know what it would be like for him to hold you. Part of you thinks he would, if you asked. But still you say nothing, content with the small doses of affection you give each other now. Closeness that is expected - known - but goes unspoken. You turn your head, and your lips brush over his helmet, just above his visor. His head stays tilted down, allowing it. He sighs when you move away.

“We should get to work.”

“Yeah.”

A tether pulls as you both stand to get things in order. Connection. Longing. You wonder if he feels it too. You brush a hand over your lips, savor the feeling of cool metal.

You don’t like it. Not one bit. But you understand. With every day that passed, you’ve been feeling worse—caught some bug on one of the trips you’ve made in the last week. It started with a cough, and now you can barely speak. You’re tired, and drained, but still you managed to stay on the ship with the Mandalorian. He wasn’t about to let R5 stay alone with the kid, and to be honest, you think he’s gotten used to having the backup. You have to be content he’s letting you do as much as he is.

“If they give you any trouble at the dock just send them this.” He presses something on his vambrace, and you check over codes on your datapad. You nod confirmation. “Keep the engine running. I shouldn’t be long, and if they decide they want a look at our cargo…”

You both turn to face the short line of frozen criminals.

“You’ll have to make a quick getaway.”

The problem you’ve found with working on newly established New Republic territories is the freedoms of the Outer Rim are being slowly taped over in red. Even bounty hunting hasn’t escaped the notice of the bureaucracy. Din hates it. You hate it even more. And now here he is going out alone to find a rich slimeball that likely paid his way into immunity with the New Republic officers here. Stuck sitting in the pilot’s chair was hardly helping. You nod anyway, watching as he straps on more weapons and gear discreetly into his armor. A knife slips into a hidden sheath under his chest plate. You try to be comforted that at least if he doesn’t have you, he’s well equipped.

You clear your throat, hopefully in a way that he understands your upset. You’ve mostly communicated with him about this job in a series of frowns.

He sighs. “I know.”

You huff.

“I know,” he says again.

Your shoulders slump, and you don’t know how else to tell him right now, so you tuck your pad under your arm and reach for him.

He’s slow to it, but he folds his arms around you to return your hug, awkwardly patting your back before holding you closer. You pull away after a moment, and take his helmet between the palms of your hands. You search his visor, wondering if he really does know.

His hands come under your arms to hold your elbows, thumbs rubbing in a comforting manner. You pull him toward you, rest your forehead against his.

Come back safe, you think. Come back to me.

His hands squeeze tighter. He must know. Surely, he must know.

You pull from him, but keep hold of his head and tilt. You press a kiss to where you rested your head just a moment before, willing his safety. Then you let go before you do anything else. Perhaps it’s good you lost your voice. His hands slip from you when you take a step back, though one hovers between your bodies like he’s not sure. You watch it drift down slowly.

Behind you, Grogu coos a goodbye, but you don’t take your eyes from Din. He looks down for a moment then back to you. Another beat, then he nods. You return it. He walks down the ramp of the hull, and you watch him until it closes, sealing you and the kid inside.

You press your fingers to your mouth. Come back safe.

Your hands shake as you pull away fabric and leather. The Mandalorian’s chest plate, marked with carbon scoring, rests on the ground beside him.

“Should have been here,” you whisper. Your voice isn’t better, but you try. You press a bandage to the wound, ignoring the way his blood sticks to your fingers.

“The kid…”

“Safe. On ship.”

Din’s hand clasps around your wrist. “They’ll find—”

You shake your head. You didn’t like it either. Your only comfort was that R5 could pilot the Razor Crest if absolutely necessary. The ship was locked and sealed tight to protect both of them while you found Din.

“I moved ship,” you croak. “They safe for now.”

You can’t see how far the wound reaches—his skin is covered in blood, soaking his clothing over his shoulder and neck. Does it go under his helmet too? Din takes your hand, halting your frantic search. You stop, eyes darting over his visor as though you’ll find answers.

“We have to go.” His voice is strained, but he is right. You can’t stay. Most of your medical supplies are stored on the Crest.

“Din…” his name is barely more than a breath through your lips. You want to say so much. Look at him, barely lucid himself, slumped and abandoned for dead when you arrived. You fear for him, even now that you are here.

“I’m…okay.” He takes his hand from yours and moves to cup your face instead. You can smell the old leather of his gloves, feel the rough patches on your cheek. But his hold is firm, grounding you back to him. “I’m okay. I just need you to help me there.” He breathes heavy, and so do you, but you can see his resolve once more. He’ll make it.

Tears spring at your eyes, and your bloodied hands grasp the sides of his helmet, mirroring how he holds you. You lean in, press a kiss to his forehead. And then another. And another. Then one more for good measure.

He has to know what he does to you. The bandage is pressed to his wound and tucked under the straps of his armor. You’ll have time to properly heal him later. He does his best to help replace his chest plate.

You take his good arm around your shoulders, wrap your arm at his waist. With your help, he stands. The coast is clear for now, and the two of you creep down the streets in the direction you hid the Crest. He follows you without question, each of you pulling the other closer at every turn—so close your shadows become one.

The image follows you all the way back to the ship—haunting you the same as the memory of cold metal against your lips.

The lava flats are quiet this evening. The sun sets behind a smattering of clouds, painting the sky an orange-pink you aren’t accustomed to seeing. The view from the Mandalorian’s front porch is unobstructed.

So here you sit, here you stare. You’re not sure when it happened, but it feels like home.

A steady beat of footsteps interrupts the quiet, and Din walks out of the doorway. He pauses there before crossing your view to join you on the bench. His movements are slow, and he’s not wearing his full armor where he’s covered in bandages. You sit up straight, gaze tearing from the sky to follow him. Your hand settles on his arm as he seats himself beside you.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Better. Much better,” you say, eying where a bandage disappears under his helmet. “What about you? Doc still expects a full recovery?”

Din nods. “The bandages are just to protect his work. I should be able to take it off tomorrow.”

Upon your return to Nevarro, you had rushed Din to the nearest med center to fix the first aid you had attempted. Whatever device was used to cause the explosion he survived was nothing you had seen before. After a good soak in the bacta tank, some careful skin grafting, and a hefty dose of painkillers, Doc assured you the Mandalorian would be just fine.

Grogu had fussed profusely from your lap, but Din had set firm rules on when the kid was allowed to use his powers. If Din was still conscious to tell him no, then no it was.

“Starting to consider Greef’s offer? Retire as a bounty hunter, become marshal here,” you ask him gently. Karga had offered it to him before, and on several occasions. Still, your Mandalorian found himself back among the the stars. Something felt different this time. The way he settled in to his cabin, sought the comforts of home. The way he let the kid play and wander longer. “It doesn’t sound too bad.”

You filled in for the job when you were on world, worked bounties as they came in when Karga needed it. You knew he hoped Din would take the job—both of you knew he would be the best at it. After following him around the galaxy, seeing him in action, there was no way to deny it.

Din looks away from the sunset to face you. “I admit I’ve been finding more reasons to stay.” His hand takes yours. He’s not wearing his gloves. His skin is rough but warm, and you skim your thumb over his knuckles.

You don’t take your eyes from him even as you lace your fingers with his. The light from the setting sun reflects on the metal of his helmet, and it makes him look softer somehow. Perhaps it is the pink glow or, when you look him over again, you realize the only beskar he wears is his helmet.

Time slows. The moment feels frozen, the cooling evening air, the touch of Din’s shoulder to yours, the pull of your gaze to search for his. His hand reaches for the helmet, lifting it gently from his head.

You don’t move. You are not sure if you can. Lips part, breath stolen. He has tousled brown hair that falls on to his forehead, creases between his eyebrows, wide brown eyes that search yours. You follow the curve of his nose to plush lips that part just as yours do.

You feel the tether once again, pulling you in. All the times you stayed close to his side, all the times you found yourself reaching for him, pressing your lips to his helm in what you hoped spoke of the affection you held. It takes hold of you now, and graciously, seems to take hold of him too.

Your lips meet his. Eyes slip shut. The light of the sun is lost to the warmth of his skin, his breath on your cheek. It’s soft and gentle. Not unlike every kiss you’ve given him since you met. He kisses you now, slow and testing. Slanting his mouth against yours, drawing closer when you don’t move away. His hand cups your cheek, your hand rests on his chest.

He tastes like home.

Your need for air is what interrupts you. Mouth pulling from his, the light sound echoing in your chest. But you don’t pull away. Neither does he.

You rest, tucked in by one of his arms. Your shoulder leaned to his side, his forehead dipped to rest on yours. You smile.

When your eyes finally come to focus again, you can see the curve of his smile too. You want to say something, test the waters of this light feeling dancing over your heart. He lifts his chin first, and his lips press to the crown of your head.

It’s warm. You sink into his embrace, let the feeling wash over you. Both of you linger on that bench, painted over by the fading sunset as a memory of quiet comfort and forehead kisses.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fic #din djarin fic #star wars #1500 kisses challenge

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sunandsstars · 1 year ago

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YAWNETU

CHAPTER 8

Tonowari x Ronal x Na’vi!Reader

Summary: With her arrival in Awa’atlu, reader seeks to find a sanctuary for her family, one that she may find in two particular individuals

Warnings: Implies drowning, mentions death

Word count: 2.2K

A/N: Guess who’s back!! 😝😝also pls pls pls double check if your name is on my taglist! if it’s on there 2x drop me a message and i’ll remove one of them, just clears some space and organises me! And thank you so much for being so patient!

Taglist: @itsyoboysparkel @dumb-fawkin-bitch @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @fanboyluvr @mooniequeen @berrybluez @bajadotcom @alwaysinwritersblock @pandoragalora @perfectprofessorloverapricot @lvrcpid @answer-the-sirens @phantomalex14 @neteyamforlife @bat1212 @sadforeversblog @ducks118 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @1800imgay @soushswag @honeybxes @lola-bunn1 @alldaysdreamers @doggodorime @theesexystallion @scarlettwch @annamarieisbae @wallpaintt @zatarias-pandora @daoyus @ambria @simp-erformarvelwomen @simpliheavenli @tojidilfs @automaticwizardnerd @lexasaurs634 @symptoms-of-moonlight @avtprint

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The next few months became repetitive, lessons on how to be a Metkayina, lessons on how to be a Tsahìk, spending time with Tonowari and Ronal. It was a comfortable routine ___ got herself into, she was happy here in Awa’atlu. Her babies were safe and healthy, she was safe and healthy.

But sometimes she would be reminded of her home back in the forests, her people, her old mates, Spider.

She missed him.

___ continues to weave a new top, made of dried seaweed and shells, she enjoyed these new garments and loved wearing and designing them in her free time. They were much more freer to wear than the leather she was more used to growing up. Her mind drifted to Spider once more, wondering if the toddler was ok and if he was safe with Norm and the other tuwtute. She knew they would take good care of him, but she could not help but think he would be in better care with her. His mother.

Shaking her head she huffed, placing the half finished top onto the floor and turned her head to look out the marui, watching the waves dance in the afternoon sun, eclipse would be upon them soon and she planned to take Sylwaì and Syatxì to see the bioluminescence of the ocean. They were able to swim, being fast learners, and often had swimming lessons with Ao’nung and other Metkayina babies. Their teacher said they fit right in, it made her happy they were accepted as apart of the people despite their obvious differences.

“mmm” a mumble interrupted her train of thoughts, she looked at the source and saw Syatxì crawling his way towards her. “mmma”

“Kaltxì ‘itan” she picked him up and nuzzled her nose to his, smooching his forehead. The twins have grown quite well, now able to move about and starting to sound out words, Ronal said it would be soon they will begin to walk and talk. “Hmmm, your hair needs to be braided again” ___ talked to herself, looking at the slight exposure of her sons queue and turned him around, getting to work.

Her nimble fingers skilfully crossed over sections of hair at the crown of his head, creating a pattern that her mother taught her in a time long passed. Tying off the end of the braid the mother looked to the setting sun, purples and oranges erupting in the sky, it was almost time to take them outside.

___ stood from her seated position, picking up her son and balancing him on her hip, head swivelling to her rolled out sleeping mat and seeing Sylwaì sat up and waving around a carved out toy of an ikran. His mother smiled and walked towards him, “come on baby” she squatted and scooped him up, settling him on her other hip.

Even when the Pandoran skies darken and eclipse has taken place, the village of Awa’atlu is still active with its people. She smiled and greeted some weavers who walked by her on the elevated platform, she assumed they are going towards the forest to look for more materials. “Have you seen Ronal?” she asked them before they left her sights, the Tsahìk agreed to join her on her expedition with her own son, seeing that this bonding activity will prove beneficial for all.

“She is on the beach the last we saw” one of the men shrugged and pointed in the direction of the east end of the shoreline, waving as ___ thanked him and strolled towards the direction she was pointed to.

But as she arrived on the beach, there was no Tsahìk, or anyone for that matter. The beach was deserted save for a few Na’vi children running around by the mangrove roots. ___ chirped in confusion, yellow eyes darting left and right as she walked closer to the waters edge. “Ronal?” she called out, her sons humming and bouncing with contained excitement.

“I am here” a head poked out of the deeper ends of the water, a grin slowly forming its way onto the Metkayinan’s face. She brought up Ao’nung who squealed when he was swung in the air, laughing at the exhilaration he feels. “We arrived early and my son was impatient, I apologise flower”

Flower.

It was a nickname that Tonowari originally came up with, comparing her to one of the fauna he spotted while deep diving outside the reef. When he brought it back and showed it to his mate and friend, the Tsahìk instantly adapted to call ___ it, why would she not? When the petals were the most prettiest shade of dark blue and the middle was a gorgeous colour of amber, like her eyes. Oh Eywa.

The former Omaticayan flushed slightly but shook it out of her mind. ‘She is just being nice’ she told herself. If only she knew.

___ slowly waded herself through the water, feeling soft wet sand underneath her toes. Her ears wriggled at the sound of childish giggles from her two sons, their tails being touched by the slightly warmed sea. Soon their bodies were enveloped, saved for their heads which ___ kept above water. Even though they may have been good in their lessons, she knew their body is still not well suited for the reefs, more for the forests. So she took great care to watch over them better than the Metkayina children.

“Sa’nu!” Ao’nung cried out, seeing the bluer Na’vi getting closer to them. ___’s heart froze up slightly, eyes going straight to her Tsahìk with pointed down ears. She did not expect for the boy to call her mummy, as she is not the one who mothered him.

Ronal’s tail swished harshly under the water, a bashful look overcoming her face. She knew she was partly at fault, she always brought the boy around the women and her children, never made it clear who ___ was to her. Ao’nung saw a women who was close with his mother and decided that she too would be worthy of the title.

She did not bother correcting him.

“I am sorry-“

“You do not have to be. I saw this coming. Ao’nung does take a large liking to you ___. But I apologise if it makes you uncomfortable” Ronal turned towards the walls of her village in the sea, watching the small fires lit on the outskirts where the canoes continue to row.

“Kehe. It does not make me uncomfortable. I just did not expect it” ___ did not see the grin that formed on the others face.

“Za’u. We will go deeper with ilus” Ronal made a call and a small swarm of creatures swam over to them, clicking and singing in happiness. Ao’nung reached out to tap one on the head with his four fingers, squealing when the tiny ilu nudged his round tummy.

___ let Sylwaì and Syatxì make tsaheylu with the smaller ones, knowing that it is normal to do so gives her comfort. Ilus are like pa’li, but more sociable and safer to bond with.

The boys little fingers grip the tiny reins that connect the animals queues together and slowly swam off to find Ao’nung while their mother established the bond herself on a much larger ilu, following closely behind.

The family dove under the surface, watching as the reef became alive with bright colours. Even though ___ has seen it all before, Pandora never fails to take her breath away. She turned her head to the left to sign to her companion. “Where should we go?”

“I think it is time I show you our spirit tree”

If the Omaticayan was out of the water she would gasp with delight. She has heard from the elders that their spirit tree lies within the cove of ancestors not far from their village, they told her that unlike the giant tree she was used to back in the forest, it is more like a large bundle of sea weed. She was most excited to see it and wanted to venture out herself, but she knew that she needed permission from the Tsahìk or be accompanied by another villager. This may be her home now, but the spiritual tree is something that is most sacred.

Ronal saw the growing excitement on her face and grinned a rare smile.

This will be a night neither one would forget.

The cove of ancestors was better at eclipse, she has been told. But seeing it in person surpassed all expectations. Sylwaì was now huddled in her arms, while her other son and Ao’nung stayed with Ronal, the two small ilus having a chance to take a well deserved break.

“Look down there, flower”

The glow of the spirit tree shone a bright purple and pink hue, its leaves swayed prettily in the deep ends of the waters, curling and twisting to create a giant mass of virtue.

“It is beautiful. Unlike anything I have ever seen”

“Srane…” blue eyes clashed with yellow and the world came to a standstill, if the children were not here, she would surely confess her feelings.

Ao’nung noticed the tree and immediately wriggled in his mothers hold, wanting to go down and see for himself, splashing in the water and swimming to the very top leaf.

Ronal sighed and rolled her eyes slightly at the interruption but smiled a little, diving after him while still holding Syatxì, not waiting for her friend to follow.

After taking a large breath, the two at the surface dove down and followed after the others. Going towards the more shallower tip of the tree to ensure the children would not eventually lose their breath.

“Make the bond” Ronal signed, connecting her hands together and then taking Syatxì’s queue, touching the pink tips of the braid to the tree. “And do not worry, Eywa will give them air”

___ nodded in trust and did the same to Sylwaì and then herself. Feeling a familiar calmness wash over her, watching the colours around fade into a tunnel.

The eye of Eywa.

The lush green grass and tall trees of the forest was not what she expected when she opened her eyes again. But to be honest she did not expect anything.

Laughter filled her pointed ears and she turned around, following the sounds as her feet guided her towards a pretty river with a large waterfall just a few meters up ahead. She recognised the area, it was one from her childhood, an area nearby home tree that her mother and father always took her to.

“My my, you certainly have been busy”

“Sempul!”

___ cried out and crashed into the man who sired her for as long as she lived. She was devastated when her parents went off to fight in the war, both being strong and respected warriors in the clan, but she mourned so much when she found out that they did not live. ___ did not get a chance to see them for a long time since her pregnancy and her arrival in Awa’atlu, not until now.

“Mawey ‘ite. Mawey” Her father pulled back and brushed his daughters loose hair from her face, noting the lack of braids. “Healthy grandchildren. Eywa had blessed us with a wonderful family, one that we hope will grow even larger?”

The young women blinked once. Then twice. Confusion fulling her face. “Sempul…What do you mean. I have not met anyone recently. Not since…”

“Those kalweyaveng. They did not deserve you daughter” ___’s mother approached from the water, holding her grandsons on her hips who played with her beaded hair. “We are glad you have found refuge with the reef Na’vi. They have been kind to you, yes?”

“Srane”

“Of course they have Hìfey, you have seen the way the clan leaders treat her. I would not be surprised if they get together soon. That will happen yes?”

“Father!”

“Kehe. He is right ‘ite. They treat you like a mate, her son calls you mother. Do not give me that look. We see and hear through Eywa” Hìfey rolled her large eyes and smiled softly, watching as silent tears welded in her beautiful child’s eyes. “My heart, there is no need to cry. Tell them how you feel”

___ sniffled and turned back to hug her father once more for comfort. “What if they reject me. Treat me like Jake and Neytiri. What if they cast me out. I cannot let my sons live as an outcast forever sa’nok”

Hìfey shared a look with her husband, one of understanding, a look that needed no words. “Daughter, I refuse to believe that would happen. Have faith my child. Everything will be alright, trust us. Trust Eywa”

And with that, her eyes closed in complete bliss. Heart slowing down as a bright light washed over her vision, she will tell them how she feels.

It is time for a new beginning.

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#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ yawnetu #avatar the way of water #atwow #x reader #tonowari #ronal #polyamourous #OC #metkayina #avatar x reader #avatar the way of water x reader #ronal x reader #tonowari x reader #angst #fluff

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levisrations · 5 months ago

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Levi Fathers day drabble:

Levi is not one to sleep in even on weekends so you had to plan ahead and wake up earlier than usual to make him his favorite breakfast. You basically waited until he took your son on their daily walk just the two of them while you have some time to yourself for a bit, and wrapped gifts and organized a day of relaxation and fun for him.

Levis perfect day and favorite thing ever is seeing you and your son happy. Hearing both of you laugh, hearing your son squeal with delight, seeing you relaxed, it’s all he wants. You still go out of your way to make him his favorites for breakfast lunch and dinner. You wanted him to just have a day where he can choose to do whatever he likes without worrying about getting things done. If he wanted to lay in the hammock out back and read a book he could, if he wanted to focus on his garden he could, and he did just that.

He took a nap in the hammock and was woken up by feeling something slightly heavy on him. He opens his eyes to find his baby boy on him, all smiling through his pacifier at him. He’s lightly smacked on his chest by little hands and Levi takes ahold of him. You’re there watching the both of them while you tell Levi dinner is ready and you all go inside. During dinner you’re both talking, joking, laughing at your silly baby. You give Levi his gifts, he loves them. You joke saying your son picked them all out. Levi gives a big smooch on your babys cheek and an even bigger kiss on your lips. You gave him a look to remind him little eyes are watching and to save it for later.

Well after that Levi is eager to put your son to bed and have you all to himself. “Okay buddy, sleep through the night tonight can you do that for me? For father’s day? Yea? That’s my boy” as he gives him a kiss on the forehead and lays him on his crib, turns the night light and sound machine on and goes immediately looking for you. Already waiting for himZ

#levi ackerman #levi #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #aot #levi x reader #levi aot #levi ackerman fluff #levi fluff #dadvi #levi drabble #this is a mess but

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freminetsdad · 11 months ago

Text

I VOLUNTEER! I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!

#don't worry baby #I'll comfort you my son #I'll give you all the forehead cheek and nose smooches you want #such a cutie patootie

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dreadsuitsamus · 2 years ago

Text

Family | Kakashi Hatake x Reader |

author's note: i love family man kakashi and i'm not sorry!! papashi has me in a chokehold, and i love, love, love writing these domestic au's that aren't entirely romance centered. this can be read as a standalone but serves as a follow-up to blessings

pairing: kakashi hatake x fem!reader

warnings: light angst, modern au, naruto and sasuke are adopted

"Incoming." Kakashi says lazily from his spot on the couch, watching out of the window as the school bus drops the kids off right in front of the house.

You smile to yourself in the kitchen, already having plated the sliced apples with a spoonful of peanut butter, plus some quartered string cheese sticks onto paper plates. Your boys are always hungry coming home from school, and lord forbid if you were running just a bit late.

The front door bursts open and your two second-grade sons, Naruto and Sasuke, rush inside. Naruto immediately jumps onto his father, his laughter bright when he starts to receive tickles from Kakashi's nimble fingers.

"Pa!" He shrieks, wiggling around and fruitlessly attempting to get away.

"Whaaaaat?" Kakashi snickers, still tickling his blond boy. "I thought you wanted to say hi to your Pa? This is hello!"

While Kakashi and Naruto play on the couch, Sasuke sulks into the kitchen. He's quiet as he sits at the table and pushes his plate aside to set his homework down, putting down two worksheets and his pencil pouch; his face is unreadable as he starts reading the instructions. He's a very diligent student already, which doesn't really surprise you much, so you smile and set down a pouch of fruit juice.

"Good afternoon, honey." You press a sweet smooch to his forehead. "How was school today?"

"S'okay." He mutters.

"Mm, alright." You give him another kiss and head back to the sink of dishes you'd put together to wash before your sons came home. Sasuke was always more reserved than Naruto, yet the feeling that something's wrong creeps up your back. You can't figure a way to explain it that makes sense— but you know your boy better than anyone else, even his father. Something is eating at him.

"Naruto, darling, come eat your snack and start your homework please!" You call out, and his speedy footsteps start rushing to the kitchen. Before sitting down, Naruto slings his backpack under the table and rushes to you, hugging the back of your legs.

"Thanks, Momma!"

Goodness you can't help the swell of your heart every time he calls you that. "You're very welcome, sweetheart. Go on now, before your juice gets warm."

Naruto runs to the table and immediately starts working on his snack, whereas Sasuke is diligently practicing his handwriting worksheet, snack forgotten. For his age he has incredible handwriting, unlike his brother's absolute chicken scratch. Hell, you think he just might have you beat too.

"Where's my snack?" Kakashi hums while walking into the kitchen, placing his hands on your hips and kissing just behind your ear. You chuckle softly and continue scrubbing a plate while your husband works his nimble fingers where your thighs and hips meet, ghosting his lips along the back of your neck.

"Hmmm, something tells me it's not in the kitchen."

"On the contrary, yes it is." He nips your neck sharply, smooching the same spot with a small, apologetic kiss.

"You want my apple, Pa?" Naruto asks, suddenly at your side, holding up an apple.

"Sure do, kiddo." Kakashi picks up Naruto, kissing his cheek before opening his mouth up for Naruto to place the apple into his mouth. He returns Naruto to the table and fishes his homework from his bag, setting it out in front of him as he finishes the bite. "I also want you to get these worksheets done."

Naruto pouts, but Kakashi pulls a chair to sit beside him. "Come on, they'll be quick and easy, and then you'll get to go play before dinner."

"Okay, Pa!" Naruto gets a pencil from his orange pencil pouch, and from there he and his father tackle the handwriting worksheet.

You finish the dishes and wipe off the counters, listening as Kakashi and Naruto work on the little one's homework. Your heart is always full in these moments, the ones where Kakashi can quickly transfer between husband and father with ease and be the man he's needed to be at any given time. He's the perfect man for this family.

Sasuke is just finishing his work up, neatly placing the worksheets into his folder and packing it back into his bookbag for safekeeping. You smile at your son when his eyes meet yours. "You didn't eat your snack, honeybunch."

"Not hungry." He sulks away and starts heading upstairs.

You frown and look back at your husband, whose eyes are met with yours. He nods in the direction of the stairs, his silver hair falling in front of his face. You sigh and begin heading upstairs to talk to Sasuke, Kakashi and Naruto's voices fading with each step upwards.

"Pa, you need a haircut!"

"You think so?"

"Uh-huh."

"Hmm, maybe you're right."

With a careful sigh as you walk to Naruto and Sasuke's room, your eyes sparkle in amusement at the various signs they made for their bedroom door, including one appropriately titled NO GIRLS (XCEPT MOMMA) with a drawing of a girl that looks suspiciously like Sakura crossed out.

You knock gently. "Sasuke, can I come in?"

"... Okay."

You open the door up and step in, noting the mess you didn't get to clean up today. Dinosaur toys litter the floor and their clothes are, frustratingly, everywhere but the hamper. You'll get to it tomorrow, you decide, and sit down on the edge of Sasuke's bed, where he's curled up with his Nintendo in his little hands.

"Talk to me, baby." You say softly. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." He shifts uncomfortably, eyes on the screen of his handheld.

"Mm, I know you better than to believe that, Sasuke. I can help you make it better if you tell me what's up, y'know."

His jaw tightens and his eyes darken. You've seen him angry before, typically at his slightly younger brother, but this is different than minor irritation. "I'm fine, Momma."

"Alright." You hold your hands up. "I'll let you play your game." Perhaps Kakashi will have better luck; Sasuke's always adored his Pa and their bond is stronger, just as your bond with Naruto is.

You stand and head for the door, glancing at the picture of your brother hanging on the wall beside Naruto's bed. Your fingers are gentle against the glass for just a brief moment as you look at the photo, touching it like how you long to just hug your brother one last time. The pain of how fast everything happened still echoes in your heart, even after seven years.

I miss you, Minato. I hope you're proud of me.

You shut the door behind you, unaware that Sasuke had watched your interaction with the photo. He sees it every time you do it. He and Naruto are aware they were adopted; you and Kakashi had sat the boys down a handful of months ago and told them the truth after Naruto asked why the man in the photo looked like him. Believing they deserved to know their own origins and wanting to teach them about their parents, you and Kakashi told them everything. That man was Naruto's biological dad that died when Naruto was born, along with his mother, Kushina. It rocked Sasuke to his core to learn that technically, you and Kakashi weren't really his parents. But you both had loved him and raised him all the same, and as far as he was concerned you really were his mother and father.

But the more he looks at Naruto and the picture of that man on the wall, the harder it becomes to not be jealous of his brother. That man on the wall was his dad, and you were that man's sister. He came from a completely different family and was only connected by a piece of paper because you felt sorry for him. He was placed into your life abruptly; you didn't choose him!

His real mother is dead, his real brother is gone, and his real father is in prison for the rest of his life. More and more he feels like he doesn't belong, even though he wants nothing more than to be here. He wants to continue being loved like he had been, and wishes every day that he didn't know the truth.

What were his parents like? His brother? Would he have been potentially even happier than he is now? Or would it be worse? He doesn't have an older brother, since Naruto is technically younger than him. Would Itachi have loved him? He hears Gaara talk all the time about his older siblings and how they play pranks on him sometimes, or how they can be mean to him. Was that the kind of brother he would've had, versus the energetic, annoying yet kind and loving brother he has now?

Would his real mom and dad love him as much as you and Pa do? He can't imagine what it would be like to not have you in his life. What if something happens and you send him away? Or what if his real father gets out of prison and he has to go live with a complete stranger?! He doesn't want to be alone.

Sasuke sniffles and turns off his Switch, curling into a ball and crying into his arms.

"No luck?" Kakashi murmurs in your ear once Naruto has finished his homework and gone outside to play with Gaara and Rock Lee.

"No." You shake your head, worrying your lower lip with your teeth as you rummage through the cabinets for some olive oil. "He doesn't want to talk with me about it. He doesn't even admit that there's something bothering him in the first place."

Kakashi's strong arms slip around your waist, halting your anxious rummaging and easing your nerves with a strong squeeze. "I'll give it a shot."

"I just want to know what he's so upset about." You whimper, sniffling as you brush away a tear threatening to slip from the corner of your eye.

"I know, baby. Just relax— what're you searching for?"

"Olive oil, I'm making yellow rice tonight." You murmur.

He turns his head and glances at the shopping list on the refrigerator, olive oil being the very first thing listed. Sasuke's heavy on your mind if you've already forgotten what you wrote down mere hours ago— and he'll be damned if he allows something to threaten his wife's happiness for long.

"I'll go pick some up."

"Thank you." Another sniffle is followed by two fresh tears falling down your cheeks, and Kakashi kisses them away before delicately pressing his lips into yours.

"I'll be right back." He promises, and as he scoops his wallet and keys into the pocket of his leather jacket, he takes one glance at the staircase before jogging up and heading towards Naruto and Sasuke's bedroom.

"Knock, knock." Kakashi says as he opens up the door; he's a little less afraid to invade the boy's privacy than you. "Sasuke, you're coming to the store with me."

"I don't wanna." Sasuke murmurs into his pillow, the fabric of the pillowcase thoroughly soaked in the midst of his post-cry, thousand-yard stare. He's facing the wall and away from his father, but the sound of Sasuke's congested voice is telling enough.

"It wasn't a request, Sasuke." Kakashi's tone is firm but gentle, and Sasuke knows better than to go against his father when he uses that voice. So he pushes himself up and slips on his favorite Crocs, head lowered as he follows Kakashi down the staircase. Kakashi turns his head in the direction of the kitchen, calling out to you. "I'm taking Sasuke with me, baby!"

"Be careful, I love you both!"

"I love you!" Kakashi yells back before heading out the front door with the boy, allowing him to sit in the front seat.

"Why were you crying?" Kakashi hums softly as they wade into traffic, stopping at the red light.

"I-I wasn't-"

"Sasuke, I've known you for your entire life. I know when you're upset, when you've cried— I even know when you need to poop."

"Pa!" Sasuke whines, chunky cheeks reddening.

"And so does Momma. Who, by the way, is worried sick about you."

Sasuke drops his head. He didn't mean to worry you; he just didn't want anything to happen if he opened Pandora's box. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, honey." Kakashi sighs softly, pressing his foot to the gas when the light turns green. "But I would like to know what's been making you so upset lately. You're not acting like my little boy. More and more you just seem so sad."

Sasuke sniffles as the tears rise back up again. "I am sad, Pa."

Kakashi turns into the parking lot of the grocery store, quickly finding an open spot and settling the car into it. "Why, baby? What happened?"

Sasuke's little hands cover his face and a broken sob leaves his lips, and in an instant Kakashi is out of the car and opening Sasuke's door, pulling him in for one of his strong, reassuring hugs. "Shhh, baby, it's okay…" He coos softly into his son's dark hair, rubbing large, warm circles against his back.

"I-I…" Another sob cuts him off and Kakashi feels the tears soaking his neck. What on earth has Sasuke so worked up?? It's entirely unlike him to be this way; neither of the boys ever had a penchant for crying, though if Kakashi had to pick a crier of the two, it would be Naruto.

"Take a deep breath, Sasuke." Kakashi murmurs, continuing to rub the little one's back. "Big, relaxing breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth." He coaches gently, pressing a soft kiss to Sasuke's raven hair.

"I don't wanna go away!" Sasuke's cry is muffled into Kakashi's chest, and the doting father blinks.

"Sasuke-" Kakashi pulls back enough to see his son's red, tear-stained face. "Why do you think that would happen??"

"B-Because I'm not s'posed to be here! I-I'm from a different fam'ly!"

Kakashi's poor heart shatters at the idea that's been running through his boy's head, and he gathers up Sasuke in a tight, warm hug, nearly crushing the boy to his chest. "Sasuke." He chides softly. "You're here with us because that's where the universe decided you needed to be; and while you may have been born under a different name, you are my son."

"B-But what about Naruto?" He asks, sounding so small and frightened and god Kakashi has never been happier that Sasuke confides in him rather than you, because if you were to hear this from Sasuke directly, you'd surely create a new Nile river from your tears alone.

"What about Naruto?" Kakashi hums. "He's with this family for the same reason you are; you needed us. And we needed you guys just as much. I'd dare say me and Momma needed you more than ever." You two have certainly grown closer and developed an even stronger marriage as a result of the sudden parenthood.

"But he's Momma's nephew." Sasuke whimpers, and that's when it truly clicks for Kakashi.

"Sasuke, honey… Did you know that your Momma was adopted too?"

And judging by the blink and the physical recoil as Sasuke finally looks into his father's eyes, Kakashi deduces that he did not.

"She- She was?"

Kakashi can't help but laugh; to him you're so obviously not biologically related to Naruto, but he supposes children wouldn't think twice about it. And they shouldn't, he reasons. You all are as much of a family as any other; he loves his babies, and they are his. "I speak nothing but the truth, kiddo."

"Oh…" Sasuke wipes at his wet eyes, Kakashi supplying him with a napkin from his glove compartment.

"I don't know what's gone through that mind of yours, but listen to me now, Sasuke. You make this family whole. If any one of us were to go away, it would be incomplete. You and your brother are mine and Momma's greatest blessings; do you understand? We love you, Sasuke. We have since the very day you were put into our care, and that's why we adopted you."

"Not just 'cause you had to?" Sasuke murmurs as Kakashi takes over the napkin operation, wiping away Sasuke's tears and snotty nose.

"Of course not; if we didn't want to raise you, we would have sent you to foster care. And that was absolutely not going to happen."

"Okay." Sasuke sniffles again, but his heart fills with hope at his father's promises— Pa doesn't tell lies, after all, so he trusts the claims.

"C'mon now, we gotta get Momma some olive oil." Kakashi stands and tosses the napkin into a nearby trash can, chuckling softly when Sasuke slips his little hand in his father's much larger one.

They retrieve the oil quickly, and at the checkout Kakashi picks up a candy bar with a sly wink to Sasuke. "Don't tell your mother we had candy before dinner. And absolutely do not tell Naruto." Kakashi could never dream of sneaking in some candy before dinner with his other boy, as much as he loves him. He's just too damn talkative!

Sasuke smiles, tears and worries already long forgotten by the time they finish their chocolate bar and head home. Sasuke rushes in for a big hug, and while it briefly shocks you (Sasuke never does this; it's certainly one of Naruto's signature moves) you manage to get it together and hug your little man. "Hey baby. Thank you for going with Pa to get Momma some olive oil."

"You're welcome, Momma."

"I'll go get Naruto." Kakashi hums, leaving you and Sasuke to cook the rice together and set the table after giving you a kiss and a hidden smirk, and you smile to yourself— Kakashi's taken care of everything.

Kakashi returns after a few minutes with Naruto on his back, and loudly your son begins explaining how he and his friends were playing ninja, and that he was so clearly the best one. Sasuke frowns and interjects— clearly he would be the better shinobi, and you laugh to yourself as they begin to argue.

Kakashi follows you to the kitchen, holding you from behind as you get the rice going. "He's all better now."

"I can tell." You coo and turn your head to recieve a kiss from your husband. "My magic man…"

The corner of your husband's lip quirks up, and he gives you a lingering kiss, gently swaying with you until you've got the rice set and turning you to face him for a slow dance in the middle of the kitchen. You hum a soft tune and follow his lead, the sound of the boy's arguing over what wins between wind and fire tuning out when Kakashi's soft, pink lips are back on yours once again.

"I love you." You murmur against his lips.

"I love you more." Kakashi presses his chin on the top of your head, pulling you impossibly closer and slipping his eyes shut. "Without you, I don't have this family."

"We're all equally important in that regard." You kiss above his heart. "We made this together."

Kakashi smirks and catches Sasuke's eye once he realizes they boys have stopped arguing, giving him a subtle wink and feeling his heart grow impossibly fonder of his family when Sasuke grins at him. He could never, would never find a better life for him than the one he's got now.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi x you #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi hatake x you #kakashi #kakashi hatake #naruto #naruto shippuden #fic #i love this concept so much #papashi #papashi au

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Note

Hoping I haven’t missed the requests closing 🙏if so pls ignore!

I’m humbly asking for a fluffy Gaz x reader and reader meeting price bc I’ll die on the hill of Price and Gaz having a father/son relationship. And Gaz being so nervous on what price thinks? Brownie points if Price teases him! I love Gaz sm and I wanna smooch him on the forehead!!

Shaky Fingers

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: The perfect date night begins with a stolen wallet and a goose chase.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: None, just fluff

A/N: Switched some stuff around so it's more of the 141 as a whole, but it's still pretty much the same, enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You think Gaz was about ready to call the whole night off.

Laughing, you shake your head and walk over to Kyle after flattening out your dress with fast hands. The apartment bedroom was ripe with the scent of cologne and perfume; the floor lamp was on and you had just finished placing a luxurious necklace over your neck. The twinkling stone blinks like a white eye in the low light.

“Dear,” you chuckle deeply to your boyfriend of three years as his head is in his hands. Gaz sits on the bed, dejected. “It’s alright, I can pay for supper—it’s really not that big of a deal.”

“Bloody thing,” He groans, his tux wrinkled from the frantic patting he’d done to his pockets a few minutes prior. “I swear, Love, it was right in my pocket near noon!”

“Kyle,” stopping in front of him, you grab at his wrists, peeling his hands away from his handsome face. Grumpy eyes lock on yours but soften as you send an easy, reassuring, smile his way; the lines on his forehead fall from a harsh line to a squiggly suggestion on the page that is his face. He sighs. “It’s okay.”

Chuffing at the absurdity, your tone is a bit teasing.

“You’re acting like I don’t have a job, too,” Kyle grumbles at this, and his oval face shifts in a play of exaggerated exasperation.

“I’m not making you pay for our anniversary dinner, I’d never be able to sleep at night.” He says, and he captures your hands in his own, holding them together and bringing them to his lips for a delicate kiss. You tilt your head and watch, face heating.

“So you can run into active warzones and get covered in all sorts of fluids but you can’t handle letting your girlfriend pay for food? Kyle, you sound ridiculous.” Leaning forward, you lay a smooch on his forehead and feel his body jerk out chuckles.

“Never said I didn’t like the idea,” Brown eyes lower in a small jab. A joke making his lips pull up in a smirk. “It’s called being a gentleman, Love.”

“A gentleman that loses his wallet, apparently. Not very soldier-like, Sergeant Garrick.” Your eyelids crinkle as you grin, firing back just as fast as Gaz blinks, brought back to the dilemma that was pushing back your departure for the restaurant down in the city. A pointedly expensive restaurant.

“It was right on me! I swear, this has never happened before.”

You shrug, straightening up to full height and tugging at Kyle’s dress shirt; prompting him to stand up so you can straighten his tie. He does so without complaint, and your fingers spread over fine silk.

“I’m gutted. We can’t go until I find it. I’m not even that worried about my money—it’s my damn ID that’s draggin’ me by the arse.” You glance up at him, humming, before pulling at the neck of his shirt and setting the tie comfortably under. Kyle’s grip goes to rest on your waist and you slightly melt into his chest more.

“Base ID?” Your voice mutters out in question.

“Yeah, that’s the bloody one. Price’ll kill me if he finds I’ve lost it. Fuckin’ hell.” Sighing deeply, you sag into him, your chin going to rest on his collarbone so you can look up at him with a tiny glimmer of understanding.

Gaz’s jaw was tight with worry, brows drawn in and those two tiny scars on his left cheek pulled stiff. His stubble brushed your nose as he angled his head down to stare into your eyes when your grip traveled to wrap around his waist loosely. He huffs and kisses your nose bridge.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart, I’m ruining the night with all this talk. We should be out already, shouldn’t we?” You’re already frowning at him, pinching his side as he grunts in surprise and stifles a boyish laugh.

“Quit that,” you say, “this is just as important. Do you remember where you last put it?”

You’d never been to Kyle’s work before—that is, the military base where he’s stationed at. He doesn’t really have a workplace per se, just a temporary office and barracks room if he needed it. The Sergeant is off across the world more often than not.

“I haven’t got a clue,” Kyle’s voice goes low but his chest rises with gratification at the genuine care you show to him over something as silly as this. Heat rises to his cheeks when your fingers run back and forth over his back—his own hands tighten around you, keeping you close. “I knew I had it at lunch. I went out and got you those flowers from that floral shop that you like—I had to use my ID to get back on Base.”

Those very flowers were sitting in a vase on your vanity, bright and vibrant. You’d swooned when Kyle had gotten back to the apartment with them.

“Alright,” your eyes stare off into your boyfriend’s brown orbs, focussing deeply. Gaz sees your nose scrunch in thought and he smiles widely, chuckling and lightly beginning to sway the two of you back and forth to unseen music. “Lunch,” you mutter, barely noticing.

“Don’t strain yourself, now,” Kyle teases.

“Hush,” Scolding, you fake a scowl and feel him rest his forehead on yours. His hair tickles your flesh and you giggle. Heart pounding, Gaz listens to you speak as if caught in a trap of his own making, gaze exceptionally soft and breathing secondary to the way your mouth curls into a smile; how your beauty ensnares him in your otherworldly glow. “Anything else, Dear?”

“Hm,” Blinking out of his love-struck gaze, Kyle thinks deeply—straining his mind. A memory sparks and a flame burns in his gut. His expression flips as the air sparks. “MacTavish…oh, that fucker’s dead.”

You make a noise of confusion as Gaz starts rambling, pulling back from you and beelining for the keys on the nightside table. Face open and soft with shock, you stutter a small laugh when the man darts back and grabs you by the shoulders; angling you to the bedroom door and to the foyer.

“Gaz?” You chuckle endearingly at his annoyed face, his lips pulled tight, and his eyes narrow on nothing as he releases you. He bends down and snatches your heels, turning and bending a knee with a groan.

“Bastard. I knew he would get to me eventually, Love, it was only a matter of time.”

“‘Get to you?’” Amusement makes you place a hand over your lips before a loud snort can escape your lungs. “Kyle, what are you on about?”

His nimble fingers loop the buckle of the heels over your ankle, pulling to a comfortable tightness as he cradles your calf. Brown eyes glance up at you with deep seriousness.

“Soap…I told you about him, yeah?” you nod and carefully place your foot back down; letting Gaz pick up the other and slip your foot into the expensive material. The smile never leaves your face as the calloused hands scrape your flesh. Kyle huffs out a scoff. “He’s been pulling all of our legs for weeks—got to some of the recruits first but it bled over to One-Four-One. Didn’t think he’d fuck with me so soon; would have prepared otherwise.”

“The Scottish one?” You stand fully on your two feet and grab your coat from the hook and slip it over your shoulders, glancing at Gaz as he puts on his own shoes. You go over and kiss the top of his head in thanks for the assistance with your own. “So you were pranked?”

“When he bumped into me,” your boyfriend explains, and you’re being carefully corralled out the door with your arm resting in the crook of his elbow; you grip the nice fabric of his suit and listen with rapt attention and a toothy smile. “I thought he’d just wanted to hurry on to the pub—I didn’t think much of his grab at my waist as anything more than to keep him steady. Mate stole my fucking wallet.”

He says it so aghast that you giggle and see him blink, expression turning cheeky.

“What?” Gaz looks over at you with a raised brow and a smirk. “Look at that beautiful smile—you think this is funny, Love? You are just wicked, you are.”

“I think it’s hilarious,” your body leans into his heavily; pulling his body heat into yours and making you all toasty as you gaze at him with love. “Are we going on a mission, Sergeant?”

Gaz stares with a vast haze of affection and pleasure, “Damn right we are.” An arm wraps around your waist and squeezes your flesh—your face goes warm. “We’re trackin’ down a shit-faced Scot on our anniversary. Bloody brilliant if you ask me. You have my six?”

“Well,” you sigh with enjoyment, not at all angry or annoyed at the strained dinner reservation. Brown eyes crinkle at you. “It’ll be good to finally meet who you work with.” Your lips widen, “I’d be honored.”

“Christ, let’s just hope he has it on him.”

—

Gaz huffs as he pushes open the front door to the pub, and you take in the scent of tobacco and alcohol. With a muttered thanks to your boyfriend as he holds open the barrier for you, you slip inside and the smell only increases to a violent level. You blink around the old-style wood and decor, surprised with how much you enjoy the drunken cheeks and dim light atmosphere. Like a wave that goes in and out, your ears ring from music playing out a jukebox in the far corner.

“This way, then,” Kyle sighs loudly, and you see his eyes have already locked into three men at the bar top. A loud roar of laughter accompanies the both of you as you head over to who you assumed were his coworkers.

You glance down at your expensive attire and then at Gaz’s and stifle a loud laugh at the stares you’re getting. The two of you are comically overdressed.

“MacTavish!” Your boyfriend calls eyes exasperated if not a bit annoyed. When all of the individuals at the bar turn to look at the two of you. “Want to explain why my wallet’s not in my fucking pant pocket right now?”

You figure out who he’s talking to when the man with a strong face and a mohawk bursts out into chest-jerking laughter after a second of pure silence. His pale hands slap the table where his multiple empty shot glasses rattle against one another.

“Oh, hell,” yep, Scottish. Gaz glowers next to you with a stiff frown until you elbow his side. He glances down and rolls his eyes as you chuckle—his arm going over your shoulders.

“Fuckin’ not again—What’s he done?” The gravel in the bearded man’s tone took you aback for a moment, such a low and grating voice laced with a firm authority. A black beanie was on top of his brown hair, and tiny orbs colored like the sea turned to stare.

They blink in slight surprise when they find you, curiously shifting the lines present.

“Johnny, what the fuck?” A shrouded man grumbles, a face mask sitting comfortably over most of his expression and a hood up over his head. Blueish-gray eyes blink in your direction before their numbness shifts back to the wheezing Scot.

“Ah, Christ, I’m sorry,” Johnny gasps, clearly drunk by the flush to his skin. You spare a look with Gaz and can’t help the amused twitch of your brow. “Didn’t realize I’d forgotten to give it back to ya!”

“Stole my bloody wallet is what he’s done,” Kyle mutters to the man with a beard, who you assumed to be his Captain only by the atmosphere surrounding him. “We’re late for dinner.”

“Kyle, I told you it’s alright,” your hand goes to pinch his cheek before his face heats up so much you feel it from your fingers. Eyes shifting, you address the three with a smile. “Such a worrier this one,” you huff and introduce yourself by name, “...it’s a pleasure.”

“Pleasure’s all ours, Sweetheart,” the Captain grunts, raising his nearly empty glass into the air in greeting. “Good to finally put a face to a name. John Price. John’s all well and good.” He motions to the masked man. “Ghost.”

You send a nod and a grin the large and intimidating Brit’s way. All he does is stare before blinking slowly.

“Soap,” Kyle levels, shifting away from you and walking closer to the Scot with a loosely motioning hand, “C’mon, Mate, you’re piss-faced—hand it over.”

“Does he always do this?” You ask easily to Price and Ghost as the other two go at it like teens.

John shares an amused glance with you and grunts out a low chuckle. “Not always, told him to tone it down ‘fore he gets Disciplinary.”

Ghost huffs in agreement, scratching at his arm.

“Like tellin’ a fuckin’ dog not to go after a bone.” You snort, looking back at your boyfriend as he begins patting down a limp and slurring Soap like airport security.

“Seems you two have got your hands full. I know Kyle isn’t above poking fun, either.”

“Waitin’ for them to burn each other out, Love,” John utters, and you share a cheeky smile with him.

You enjoyed how easy it was to converse with the man—especially the one that was in charge of your boyfriend while he was away. It puts you at ease to finally meet all of them... no matter how shit-faced.

“Aha!” Gaz’s form rips out the body of his leather wallet with a shout of victory. Soap grumbles, rubbing at his face with the heel of his palm.

“If I’d known you were takin’ your bonnie girl out I’d have taken your tags instead.”

“Well look at that, so considerate,” Kyle chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re demented, Mate.”

“Ah, that’s just the top of it, eh?” You chuckle at the Scot’s comment, pulling out your phone from your jacket pocket and checking the time.

“Can we still make it?” Kyle asks, jogging back up to you as you click your tongue; turning the screen and showing him with a smirk.

“Think they’ll forgive a fifteen-minute absence?” Your boyfriend slowly deflates and your face softens at the sight of his sagging shoulders. John sighs long at his seat and stands; slapping a hand on Kyle’s shoulder and lightly placing one on yours.

Gaz looks up at him in surprise.

“Well, that’s proper bad luck,” the Captain starts, face serious and tiny eyes narrowed, “say what, then, the two of you pick what you want and Soap’ll cover the cost for the night.” Ghost huffs a dull bark of a laugh from his seat. You’re not even sure Johnny heard it above him tipping back another shot.

You and Kyle share a glance before twin smirks form on both of your faces.

“Can…you do that, Sir?” Kyle asks, accusatory.

“What kind of a bloody question is that?” John grunts before staring at you. “Now, don’t think too hard about it, eh? MacTavish has been getting too bold—maybe losin’ a few bills’ll screw his head back straight.”

“I have no problem with it,” your eyes slide to your boyfriend, raising an eyebrow. “You?”

John chuckles and pats your shoulders, squeezing. “Knew she’d jump on it.”

Kyle laughs, making the most of the situation as he nods a few times—watching you with his eyes drowned with warmth and affection.

“I’m down.” You giggle excitedly and slip into one of the dirty bar seats next to Ghost, eagerly trying to get him into a conversation about drinks and good food available in your expensive dress and jacket.

Gaz stares after with a tiny smile, slipping his wallet into his pocket where it belongs.

“Proper Bird,” John mutters, glancing at his Sergeant, grunting as Kyle chuffs. “It’s good to have something like that to go back to. Make it last, then.”

“I don’t plan on messing this up, Boss,” Gaz’s cheeks go hot with embarrassment, but it’s telltale how his eyes never leave your frame for a single second. “Not on my life.”

“Good.” John nods his head, “Go on.”

Kyle sends him a thankful look and shuffles over to the empty seat next to yours; feeling you immensely snuggle up into his side and continue your mostly one-sided conversation with Ghost. Soap was still drinking down his beverages with loud comments every once and a while.

Gaz kisses the top of your head and waves over the bartender.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

1K notes · View notes

reinstarnation · 10 days ago

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i rate men in malevolent but i'm correct about it and only at like ep 35ish.

john: he's a cunt and i want to kiss him on the forehead. multiple times. also i want to listen to him describe everything he could read the phone book and it'd be asmr. he's trying his best, and he needs a good smooching

arthur: we love a man who whimpers pitifully while covered in his own blood and viscera <3 hot men whimper and get to be pathetic in horror podcasts. i want to feed him food that isn't cold nor people he needs a good jammy hot cross bun and some stew. he also needs to get railed, and i do not volunteer but let it be known i suggested it.

larson: knee him in the groin.

dennis: i'd let him talk circles around me before insinuating that he revels in bloodshed to compensate for something (🍆). then knee him in the groin.

oscar: i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love

yellow: "my son n his brother" kinda deal, arthur should have been nicer to him but also he's with larson???? which is the reddest flag 4/10 he could make better choices

noel: he's competent i love him.

kayne: HE'S SUCH A CUNT AND A BITCH he watched with snacks while john was sobbing stitching arthur up with a fish hook and didn't help one bit and i went "oh if i did fuck i'd let him." i'd let him stab me multiple times just to hear him talk about how frail and mortal i am and would still want to kiss him on the mouth. love me a morally fucked god who likes watching the world bleed out. idc if it'd get questionable amounts of blood on me, hydrogen peroxide in cold water rinse thoroughly then regular wash cycle bitch.

#asterius chill out #asterius's questionable thoughts that my be influenced by their monthly unwanted blood sacrifice #malevolent podcast #normalcy about malevolent whomst #kayne malevolent #oscar malevolent #john doe #arthur lester #detective noel #the king in yellow

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the-hole-in-terzos-shoe · 2 years ago

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Taking Care

Papa Emeritus IV x Nanny/Sister of Sin!Reader

TW: smut obviously, cheating, mentions of alcoholism and drug use, child does get hurt at one point but they are okay!, mentions of pregnancy, breeding smut, mentions of condoms in case that makes you uncomfy. Let me know if there's anything else I need to add, things get a little heavy in this one.

Word Count: 10.4k

This started off as a dirty little scandalous idea, actually based on a previous fandom I used to write for, and it turned into a big thing... As all of my fics do. I don't think I'm capable of writing anything short anymore. Also @sweatandwoe came up with the title 😉

Anyway! Papa IV has a horrible Prime Mover who is never present at home, and it leads to him developing some feelings for the nanny. Enjoy!

𝘓𝘢 𝘢𝘮𝘰... Copia thought to himself as he fondly observed the sight before him, framed by the paned glass door leading to the balcony: his little one bouncing on your hip as you cooed at him, trying to get the bambino back to sleep. The antipope had returned home late from the ministry offices, as he often did, entering his suite completely exhausted, kicking off his shoes to let his aching feet relax, perking back up a bit upon laying eyes on you.

Eyes glossed over as a cheery little smile came to his face, he simply watches as you saunter back and forth, his progeny lulling back to sleep in your arms. Before he even realizes, his sore feet carry him right out to the balcony, making his presence known.

"Oh! Good evening, Papa!" you whisper, not wanting to rouse the little one.

"No need for such formalities, 𝘚𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢..." he mocks you with a wink.

A faint blush colors your cheeks; always so charismatic, even when he's as tired as he looks. Luckily before you can put more thought into it, baby Giovanni stirs a little, sitting back up and eyes popping open.

"Sh, sh, shhh..." you hum pressing a kiss to his little head.

"D-deh..." he whines reaching out towards Copia.

Letting out a little shocked gasp, you feign, "Who's that? Who is he, huh? Is that Daddy?"

With the sweetest giggle, the little one exclaims for his Da-da, reaching out again.

Copia swoops right over, playfully bending down to smooch his only son, getting a bit of black face paint on the soft fuzz of the little one's head. "Whoopsies, we'll have to wash you up, piccolino," he runs a finger delicately over his little cheek.

As Copia stands up straight again, and his baby stretches right back out for him.

"I think someone wants Daddy, yeah?" you try to urge your boss to take the bundle in your arms.

Instead, he does the unexpected. Wrapping an arm around the small of your back, he pulls you flush to him, cocooning his son between you. You and Copia both have an arm supporting the baby, as he holds you both close to him.

"Someone wants Daddy, sì?" he asks, and you're not sure if that was for you or Gio. Either way, it draws another blush to your cheeks.

Copia looks you over, eyes softening now that his little one is safe between you. In your avoidance of eye contact, you didn't see him lean in, only feeling his lips press softly to your forehead; surely you would have a mark as his child did. The softest gasp escapes you; it isn't lost on you that things had not been well for some time between him and his Prime Mover...

Maybe you were reading too much into it. Perhaps he was just being affectionate. You knew he could be handsy, and he'd had a long day; he was probably just seeking a moment of comfort before bed.

"Let's go put him down for the night, eh?" Copia motions to his baby boy.

You were so lost in thought, you hadn't even noticed he drifted back off. Snapping back into action to take him to bed, Copia stops you, scooping the bundle from your arms, giving you a warm smile as he disappears back inside to the nursery connected to his bedroom. You trail behind the man to make sure he won't need help with anything.

Laying the little one in his basinet, Copia offers him one last goodnight kiss and jokingly promises not to disturb him again. The man turns to see you standing in the doorway, illuminated by the soft glow of the night light in the room.

"I should retire to bed before he wakes again in a few hours," you dutifully remark, eyes cast down and thumbs twirling together.

Gloved fingers brush your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, "It's a blessing having you here." Softly he cups your jaw, while his other hand grips your waist, effectively pinning you to the door frame. "May I kiss you, cara mia?"

Wide eyed, you stare up at him as about a million thoughts race through your mind. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘱𝘢? 𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶... 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘔𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬? 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯... 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬. 𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦? 𝘉𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴, 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘯...

Copia inhales and starts to straighten up, "It's quite alright if you don't want to, cara. I do apologize if I made you uncomf-"

Snapping out of your thoughts, your arms snake around his neck and your lips crash into his. Immediately, his hands cradle the back of your head and your waist, keeping you flush against him. The way his mouth moves against yours is sinful to say the least; he's quick to use his tongue, tracing it across your bottom lip before giving it a quick nip with his teeth. It was masterful really.

Within seconds, your mouth was giving him access, his tongue desperately wanting to meet yours, which drew a small whimper from you. While he moved excitedly within your mouth, you were more hesitant. Stupid as it may sound, you weren't sure you wanted to tempt him more; you had already totally crossed the line and disrespected your Prime Mover.

You know Copia isn't the kind to cheat, but he's been so miserable lately, always arguing with her, only for her not to remember a thing because she's so intoxicated. She was always out at parties and hardly ever home, and when she was in his suites, she was practically out of her mind. He's been trying so hard to get her the help she needs, but she won't take it. She likes the money, the power, the drink and drugs her position can afford her more than the life she's made here in the Abbey. It's sad really, especially with the baby involved.

The heat of the kiss had simmered down a lot and Papa slowly pulls away from you, searching your eyes for what went wrong. "I'm sorry, Papa, I shouldn't have- It was completely inappropriate of me to-" You try to pull away from him, but you only manage to slide your hands down to his chest before his grip on you returns, holding you close.

He swiftly pulls you outside the child's nursery and lightly clicks the door shut, so as not to disturb him.

"Papa, I'm- I'm so sorry..." It barely comes as a whisper.

"For what, tesoro? Giving me the kiss that I offered to you first? Now that's the real slight against me," he quips playfully, giving you a warm smile.

You hated to admit it, but it felt so nice being held so close to him. He always smelled of expensive cologne, it was heady getting to take in the scent at such proximity. All that consumed your mind in that moment was laying your head on his chest, so you did. Forehead in the crook of his neck, your eyes flutter closed and take in the soft moment.

Rubbing gentle circles into your back, his voice rumbles against your ears, "You're probably sleepy, piccolina. Let's get you to bed." Without another word, he leads you right down the hall to the guest room that was all yours. You never really returned to the Sisters of Sin quarters since you were the full time caregiver to the Emeritus heir.

It could get lonely at times, so you were grateful for the days when other Siblings would be assigned to work with you, whether to give you a break or to take Giovanni on an outing like a picnic or to the beach. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘯, 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘗𝘢𝘱𝘢 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳... Sleepily, you yawn as you arrive at your door.

Copia opens the door for you, stopping at the threshold. A gentleman even in his own home. "Goodnight, cara mia."

"Goodnight, Papa," you mumble, hands returning to his chest.

He couldn't help himself; he leans in pressing another kiss to your lips, fingers tangling in your hair for a brief moment before pulling away again. You may have whined at the loss; you aren't sure in your sleepy state. Looking up at him, the man bites his bottom lip, and only then do you realize how smudged his face paint is, especially around his mouth. Copia simply nods at you one final time before closing you in your room, and you let out a groan, knowing you should wash all the black and gray off of your face before bed.

• • •

The next morning you emerge from your room a little earlier than normal and in a bit of a tizzy, because Giovanni is already crying and that's not like him. Turns out he just needs a diaper change, but of course he's hungry afterwards. 𝘐 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘋𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺.

Baby in tow, you head to the kitchen to warm up his bottle. You pass Copia in the living space, adorned with a little couch and TV, as he's having his morning coffee and reading the newspaper; he really could be a stereotypical old man sometimes. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴.

"Up so early, you two?" He sets his mug down, promptly following you to the kitchen.

"Yes, he was extra whiny this morning, so I couldn't put him off any longer," you explain.

It was pretty rare to see Copia before he left in the morning. He was always up so early and home so late. This morning he was already dressed and face painted; you were sure he was getting ready to walk out the door any minute.

As you reach for the kettle to warm some water for the baby's bottle, you feel a large hand on the small of your back, and suddenly you're acutely aware of the fact that you are only in your silky nightgown. You hadn't had time to put on your habit this morning.

"Let me help, Stellina, I don't get to do enough for the little guy," Copia chuckles at the little one, pinching his cheek before moving to warm up the water.

You turn your attention back to keeping the little one calm, as he could get quite cranky when he's hungry. The antipope stops to admire the sight before him as the kettle heats up: your undivided attention on his child, the curve of your hip holding him, the bare skin of your collarbones and shoulders. It has his mind drifting to all the places he'd like to mark on you; you were just so motherly, even though you had none of your own... He'd like to be the one to give you one, or many.

Just as the pot starts to spit and sputter, before it can reach boiling, Copia quickly pours it into a large bowl, submerging one of the many bottles you kept ready in it to warm the formula up.

You lightly press a kiss to baby Gio's head as he laughs at his father for some unknown reason.

"What's so funny, huh?" he turns and gets right in the baby's face, eyes wide and smile big.

"Who's that?" you coo.

"Da... D-" he babbles; he was still learning his first words.

"Close enough, eh?" Copia giggles before gasping and covering his face with his hands.

"Oh no, where's Daddy?!" you feign looking for him.

A burst of laughter comes from the little one when Copia reveals his face again. Peekaboo always did the trick.

By now the bottle would be warm enough, so the man slides an arm under his child, taking him from you. Quickly tossing him up in the air, the baby squeals happily, as he settles into his father's arms. As Copia reaches for a towel and the bottle, the infant points at you, "Mama!" It was the clearest word he'd ever said.

"Oh no, sweetie, I'm not-" you start, but Copia finishes it.

"Sì? She is kinda like your Mama, yeah?" He bounces the baby and gives him the bottle.

"Copia... I'm not his mother. She'll be pissed."

"She's never here. You're all he knows. Satanas, 𝘐'𝘮 not even here as much as I'd like to be. You'll be the only reason he turns out right," he ponders out loud, face looking forlorn at the thought.

"Well... Maybe we should plan something? Give him a Daddy son day, yeah?" you suggest.

"I shouldn't only be around for the fun times. You deserve more help, and he deserves for at least one of his parents to be here for him," Copia asserts, leaving no room for argument. "I'll go in late today. I want to help you get him ready this morning. And tomorrow, I'll come home early."

You weren't sure how Sister Imperator was going to like that, but it seems he's made up his mind, and you certainly weren't going to complain about seeing him more.

• • •

Copia kept to his word and stayed through the baby's entire morning routine, burping him, getting him washed up and dressed for the day. And of course he didn't leave you without a kiss.

The next day, he arrived to his papal suite early, just as he said, and helped you fix dinner. Normally it was just you and the baby, so you ate whatever was around; you weren't above eating sliced up hot dogs and applesauce. But since Papa was home and wasn't used to eating that way, he helped you cook, making pasta, alfredo sauce, and some broccoli and zucchini for a side.

You spoon fed Gio a jar of baby food while Copia worked his magic at the stovetop. Sleeves rolled up and apron donned, he checks every pot and pan diligently, tasting and adding ingredients where necessary. He really was built for this; it's a shame he isn't able to be home more.

Once he was done, your Papa insisted on you taking it easy for the evening. From pulling out your chair at the dinner table to fixing your plate, you weren't doing a thing. It felt unreal, like you shouldn't even be there if you weren't doing your job, but it also felt nice to have him doting over you, even if it was wrong. Copia even chopped some noodles really small for his son to try; Gio was going to be a mess later, but he needed a bath anyway.

Which after the delicious meal, Copia handled that too. He was perhaps a little inexperienced and ended up covered in water himself, but he was so happy to kneel next to you on the bathroom tile and take care of his little one. And seeing Copia holding a bundle of towels afterwards was probably the cutest thing ever.

"Go wash up yourself, Stellina. I'll put il bambino down, I picked out his pajamas and everything. Meet me back in the main room for a movie, hm?" The man softly grabs your hand, kinda like he was asking you on a date.

"Oh, o-okay," you bite your lip.

"You do not have to if it would not make you happy, tesoro." You were both treading new waters.

"No, no. I'll be there." You offer him a smile.

He returns it, happy you accepted his offer. "Bene. See you then," he gives you a wink before heading off to the nursery.

• • •

After your respective showers, Copia relaxed on the sofa in nothing more than a pair of silk pajama pants that left little to the imagination. You try to avoid eye contact with a certain... outline, as you enter the room, donning a few more layers than him. He didn't wear a stitch of paint and his hair was still damp.

He admires your look of cozy pajama shorts, a tank top, and a short robe loosely tied over top. Moving to lie on his side, Copia pats the spot in front of him, meaning you need to squeeze in right next to him on the little seat. It seemed especially small now at the thought of having to share it with him.

And it's not that you don't want to. You just knew what it could lead to, and that makes you hesitant. The thought of cuddling up next to your boss, your Papa, and his Prime Mover could walk in the door at any moment, although it was unlikely.

"Is okay, tesoro, I'm nervous too," the man admits to you, "but I desire to be closer with you." Apparently, he means physically closer as he slides an arm around your waist as you sit next to his lounging form. He quickly catches your hand, kissing your knuckles. "C'mon, cara, get comfortable," he urges you, "Lie down with me if you'd like."

You oblige him, laying on your back with him still on his side beside you, faces mere inches from one another. "Hey," you greet him, a nod to the nearness.

"Hi," he replies, looking over the features of your face that he adores so much.

You'd never really gotten to look into his eyes like this before and take in the lack of pigment in that white iris; it's fascinating the way it nearly glows, and so well balanced by the warm golden hues present in his green eye.

"You're a good dad, Copia." You're not sure what prompted it, but after all the work he'd put in this evening, he deserved to hear that. And you could tell the work wouldn't end there; he wanted to be more present in his child's life.

"Grazie, Stellina," he gingerly lays his arm across your waist, "I couldn't do it without you."

Between his praises and his fingers tracing shapes along your side, your cheeks betray you and blush a deep shade. Scanning your face for any indication he should stop, he slowly presses a few small pecks to your jawline, and he catches you in a passionate kiss before asking what movie you'd like to watch.

After settling in on a classic you'd both seen before, you turn to your side, so Copia is spooning his body against yours, propped up just so that you can both see the large screen. With his warmth settled all around you, worry crossed your mind that you may not make it through the entire movie...

He was just so soft and warm... inviting... His breath at the nape of your neck soothing your heavy eyelids-

𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵- 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦... 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸?

Keeping your eyes glued to the screen, you subtly arch your back, pretending to stretch, feeling out the... 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 behind you. When you receive a stifled groan from your Papa, feeling his erection pressed tight against your backside, your inquiry is answered.

His arm draped around your waist tightens its grip, keeping you oh so close to him; you feel him let out a hot shaky breath before pressing a kiss to your neck. The feeling immediately sends a spark running through you as his mouth warms up your sensitive skin.

Your fingers lace with his as your ass wriggles against him again, earning a wanton moan from your Papa.

"Dolcezza... Look what you do to me," he whispers next to your ear.

"Papa," you breathe out, turning to catch his lips in a fierce kiss, the movie long since forgotten about. Quickly into the kiss, you're shifting onto your back, fingers tangling in his hair, to give him better access to your body.

His fingers delicately trace your jaw and neck, a sharp juxtaposition to the way his lips attack yours, needy and starved for attention. His lips deserved to be kissed like this every day; you couldn't understand why his Prime Mover would throw away the opportunity. Speaking of...

"Copia," you pull away from him suddenly, chests heaving as you both seek to fill your lungs again.

"Sì, bella mia? What is on that pretty little mind?"

Between the way his words make your heart swell and the shaft trapped against your hip, what you need to tell him fumbles on your lips. "We, uh... Copia, we- we shouldn't."

"Mm..." he grunts, "we shouldn't." He leans up to kiss your forehead, "But I want to. I want you. What do you want, cara mia?" He caresses your cheek again.

"I-" you look up for a minute, taking a deep breath, "I want you, too," you whisper, looking right into his eyes, like you were afraid to admit that you wanted your boss. But you do. He's damn near perfect! He's your Papa. He's the one you swore your vows to when you became a Sister of Sin. He's so devoted to his work, to the church, to his followers. He's a good dad. Damn it, you can't understand how she doesn't want him.

If his Prime Mover wasn't going to take care of him, then you would.

Your lips crash back into his, fingertips raking along his scalp harshly, causing him to rut his hips against you, desperate for your touch. As you moan against each other's mouths, his hand explores your body, sliding down your side, your hip, your thigh. Fingers trail up inside your shorts, teasing at the fabric of your panties.

You nearly whine in anticipation, only just now realizing how much you wanted his fingers inside you. Taking your little noise as a good sign, Copia slides his hand between your legs, urging your thighs apart and fabric out of the way as he runs two fingers through your slick folds.

Just to accentuate his actions, he draws your bottom lip between his, nibbling at your swollen flesh, which leaves you room to let out a breathy moan. "Cara..." he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes blown wide with lust for you, "so wet for me..." He bites his lip, pushing those two fingers deep inside you. Gasping loudly at the feeling, your hands roam his bare skin across his neck, collarbone, chest. He ruts into you at the same pace that he pushes his fingers in and out, eyebrows furrowed, clearly fighting the urge to rush right into things.

"... feels so good, Papa. So good," you praise him, fingernails scratching at him.

"Sorella... I could say the same to you," he pants, brows softening as he presses a kiss to your cheek. How he managed to be so soft yet build such a fire between your legs made no sense to you, but you revel in the dizzying feeling of it all. You feel your walls petal around his digits thats he works in and out of you, thumb frequenting your clit, making you arch for him. "So tight, so warm, Sorella. I can't wait to feel you fully, amore."

"Copia," you drag his name out, "Copia, I need you." His duochromatic eyes search yours, and when your hand snakes down to grip his hot girth, he doesn't have to be told twice.

He curls his fingers sharply one good time, making you mewl out his name again, and pulls them out of you. Quickly, fingers rush to shove your too many layers off to the floor; first the robe, then the shorts, before he pulls you up off the couch, walking you backwards towards his room, lips never leaving yours.

Upon the back of your knees hitting the foot of the bed, the antipope shoves you back on the lofty mattress. Immediately he's on top of you, moving you back onto the pillows. After throwing your tank top across the room, his mouth latches onto your collarbone, sucking a sizable love mark there, fingers tangling into your hair. His other hand found your nipple, rolling it between his fingers as his eyes flicked up to yours to make sure he wasn't going too far.

Your fingers grant him permission with a gentle scratch on the head, and his mouth moves to suck on the soft flesh of your bosom. Toying with the waistband of your panties, he tugs them down, sitting back on his haunches as he flings them off. He leaves you on the bed to free himself from those devilish silk pants, erection springing free, heavy with lust, as he reaches into the bedside drawer to pull out a condom.

𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴? 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮; 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦...

"Are you ready, cara mia?" he prompts, almost like a nervous teenager doing it for the first time.

Scanning over his body, completely bare to you from his messy hair to his flushed chest, bushy happy trail, and leaky shaft, you nod your head, looking up at him through your eyelashes. "Please, Copia."

Without another word, he ripped the little package and rolled the protection onto himself before climbing back on top of you. It felt good to have him there, like he belonged this close to you.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, he lined himself up with you. He worked gently, as if he might break you if he did what he really wanted to do. Really, it was romantic the way he rocked his hips ever so slowly, cradling your head in his hand, his eyes fluttered closed as he exhaled what felt like all the air in his lungs, nose nuzzling against the side of your neck.

You whine for more as he languidly fills you, his girth pressing on all your walls; you were grateful to have been partially stretched by his fingers earlier. Looking down at him, you bite your lip before pressing a light kiss to his forehead. He meets your eyes, pressing a kiss to your jawline in response.

Finally, it feels like he's bottomed out in you, and his knees dig into the bed as he gives one final push, that last little bit feeling so much more sensational than all the rest as he makes contact with that sweet spot his fingers teased earlier. Letting out an airy whimper, your eyes screw shut as he stays put, taunting the spot without moving.

"P-p-mmm... papaplease-" you whine for him to end his torture.

His cock twitches inside you, and a wicked grin forms on his lips, knowing what he's doing to you. He hasn't even moved yet and you've probably already forgotten your name. It may have been a while since he'd gotten any action, but he was happy to see he hadn't lost his touch.

After what feels like an eternity, he pulls out a bit, relieving the pressure on that spot deep inside you. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, and he slides right back in, his tip kissing your sweet spot. Gasping as your thighs tighten their grip around him, he grins again, this time settling just above you to kiss your nose as you take on his assault.

Moving slowly at first, he relaxes into the pleasure of you: the way your delicate fingers curl into his hair, the way your jaw hangs open in pleasure, your eyes looking up into his longing for one another... How long you'd pined for one another without even realizing it; he'd wanted you from the moment he'd met you, seeing the way you cared for his progeny better than anyone else could.

With each thrust he wants you to know how much he cares for you, wants for you, needs you. Tears of lust and longing stain his lashes as he loses himself in the feeling of you surrounding him. As if to add to what he was already feeling, you pull him into a sweet but spicy makeout. His hips pick up pace, needing more.

"Dolcezza... I don't think I'll last..." he lets you know.

"Me either, Papa. Touch me, please."

Obliging you, his hand snakes between your bodies, the rough pad of his middle finger sending a jolt through you as he finds your clit. Between that and the treatment of your g-spot, you're cumming in seconds, growing impossibly tighter around his length each time your muscles convulse.

His lips find yours again, hating to muffle the sounds coming out of you, but desperately needing to kiss you. "Stellina... Ti amo, Stellina. Così tanto... Ho bisogno di te nella mia vita," he cries out for you as he spills into the condom and goes limp on top of you.

You cradle his head against your chest, and for a moment, he wasn't unlike his little one sleeping in the next room, needing your affection. You kiss the top of his head, nuzzling into his messy hair, and he returns the sentiment by nibbling on your earlobe, earning a giggle from you.

With a quick peck on the cheek, he rolls off of you, heading to the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth to clean you up. His aftercare is nearly as good as the lovemaking, as his lips trail behind the terry cloth, leaving a kiss wherever he wipes and soothes your skin.

"Did you mean what you said earlier?" you blurt out.

"What is that, cara mia?" Copia tosses the rag aside and wraps an arm around your waist, cuddling into you.

"That... That you love me," you bite your lip, "and I think you said something about your life? I don't know Italian as well as you obviously..." you trail off.

"Mi dispiace, tesoro, I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable," he caresses your cheek, searching your eyes.

"No, no, you didn't," you tell him, also stroking his cheek.

"I just lose control of myself when I, uhhh, when mia signora makes me feel good," he smiles and taps his fingers on your collarbone, "I hope you know, cara, that I-"

"I love you, too." You stare at him like you'd just been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

"Oh, Stellina... I didn't know you would feel the same," he admits.

"Of course, I do, Papa. You're... perfect. Who wouldn't love you?"

"Well, I can think of one person," he gives a disgusted half smirk before chewing on his cheek. It wasn't lost on you all the times Copia's Prime Mover had walked out on him, but not before screaming and arguing at the top of her lungs about how much she hated him.

"Hey, hey, don't let her ruin your night. She's ruined too many of them already." You pull him closer, seeing him fight off the anger.

He looks up at you, face softening, "You're right. I'm letting her get to me, when I should be confessing my love to you," he chuckles softly, fingers walking up your arm.

"Yes, you should, Papa. Confess away," you sigh and lean in for another kiss.

"Ahhh, ti amo, principessa mia," he starts dramatically, "sei la mia vita, the very breath I breathe..." You both share a laugh at his little act. "Really, cara mia, I've loved you a long time. And it's supposed to feel wrong, but instead it just feels like... Like what it should've always been. Like you should be the one I'm with. Like you should be il mio bambino's mother."

"Copia," you whisper, tears welling up. You know he shouldn't say things like that, but admittedly it felt nice to hear it. Actually, it made your heart soar.

He pulls you in for another fierce kiss, one that's let's you know exactly how much he means it.

• • •

"Mmm, cara mia... I think I'm calling out of work today," your lover chuckles, squinting in the bright morning sun.

"What's that, old man? Four rounds and the baby crying got you worn out?" you jab at him.

"Did we go four rounds?" He looks impressed with himself.

"Did you lose count?" You both laugh, him groaning at his tired headache. As you wiggle out of bed to go get the little one ready for the day, Copia grabs your wrist.

"Let him sleep. We should too," he begs.

"Are you really calling out today? I'm sure Sister Imperator won't be happy."

"That woman is never happy. Now get your ass back in bed," he pulls you back under the covers, holding you flush against him. "Your 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘺 ass." He grabs your backside to accentuate his point, leaning in to kiss your neck.

"I thought you wanted to go back to sleep..." You bite your lip with a cheeky grin.

"Maybe we go for round five first, sì?"

• • •

"Sh, sh, shhhh... It's okay, baby boy, it's okay," you whisper into Giovanni's ear, kissing his head repeatedly to calm his tantrum.

Copia's Prime Mover had come home, which means everything is a mess. You'd had a peaceful few days navigating your newly admitted feelings for your boss, and he was settling in to a new routine of being home more for the baby. Of course it was an added bonus that he got to spend his nights with you. But now everything felt like it had been turned on its head.

"Oh, so you think you're the best Daddy in the world since spending more time at home, huh?! Look at you all high and mighty! Making me out to be horrible!" She screams at him, loud enough that you can hear every word from your spot of the balcony. The sound had been driving the baby crazy, so you brought him out here to try to drown it out. It wasn't working as he cried and cried against you.

"Someone has to be here for him! My being here for him says nothing about you. Your own absence says it all," Copia cuts back at her, but it was the truth.

"So... you do think I'm a horrible mother?" She shrinks, wrapping her arms around herself. You try not to look, but you can't help but be concerned for your Papa.

"Of course not, tesoro..." There it is. The little shred of hope he still has for the mother of his child. He steps towards her, gently rubbing his hands over her arms. "You need help. It's not your fault, but you need help. All that stuff you pump into your body isn't good for you. Please let me help."

Finally, the little boy in your arms starts to settle down. You just hoped they wouldn't start shouting again.

She really was a beautiful woman, Copia's Prime Mover. Tall, looks that kill, charming; she really had been a great match for your Papa. Of course that was before the pressure of her position got to her. You suppose you'd be upset too if you got forced into a marriage; you'd probably go off the deep end as well. Copia had his whole life to prepare for that fate; she had a few months, and so she makes herself numb, she runs as far as she can, she resents all of it, especially him.

• • •

You wake early the next morning to a light knock at your guest room door. The sun wasn't even up, so you immediately got worried something was wrong with Gio.

Flinging the door open, you're met with the sight of a broken man. "Papa? What's wrong?"

"She's gone... She left again." He wasn't even blinking, but tears streamed from his mismatched orbs.

"Oh, Copia," you pull him into a hug, supporting him as best you can.

"She said I could get her help. She was going to get help, but she ran away again." He rests his chin on your shoulder, staring off at nothing as you lead him to sit on the edge of your bed.

"Copia... You do everything right. You try so hard for her. And for him," you nod to the nursery, "You can only help her as much as she'll let you. If she doesn't want to change, then she won't. It's not your fault; I hope you know that it isn't your fault."

He takes your hands and nods at you. He didn't have much else to say. He'd dealt with this so many times, he was almost numb to it. Almost.

You look at the clock, seeing that it was only 4am. "Let's get some more sleep, Papa. You need to rest." You stand up to lead him back to his room, but he just sits, looking up at you like a lost dog.

"Can I stay with you, cara mia?"

The simplicity of the question cut you deep; he yearned to not be alone. He didn't want to wake up to a cold empty bed once again.

"Of course, you can."

You climb back into bed, Copia happy to spoon your body. Sitting in comfortable silence, he drifts back off, getting the deepest sleep he'd had in the days since his Prime Mover had come home.

• • •

"Knock knock!" you chirp, entering Papa's office with baby, diaper bag, and picnic basket in tow.

He looks up from something he'd been reading over, a smile spreading across his face at the sight of you, "Ahhh, to what to I owe the pleasure? It's a long trek across the Abbey just to come see me." He stands up from his desk, taking the diaper bag and picnic basket from you and setting them down.

"Da-da!!!" the little one exclaims; he was getting much better at his words.

"Oooh, piccolino, come here," he replies, scooping him up too.

"He wanted to see you," you start, "and I did too... I know you haven't been able to be home as much as you want because of work, so I thought maybe we would bring lunch to you."

Paperwork had stacked up since he was taking more time to be home; he was taking this week to just try to push through as much as he could. But he's also making a plan to hire several assistants and delegate as many of these menial tasks as he can.

"Dolcezza... That is so thoughtful of you," he cups your cheek, giving you a quick peck on the forehead. "I think I could sneak away for a little while." He gives you a wink, bouncing the baby on his hip.

"It's okay if you can't! We can eat in here too. I don't want to get you in trouble with Sister..."

"Silly girl, when are you going to learn I don't care what she thinks?" He smirks at you, returning to his office chair to sign a few more papers before heading out. Somehow him holding the baby while working made him even cuter. "Besides, technically she answers to me."

Out in the gardens, Papa plays with the child, keeping him occupied while you set up lunch. Watching the little one doddle across the grass, Papa towering over him but offering his fingers as support, warmed your heart; Copia had been trying to get him to take his first steps on his own, and he was hellbent on not missing it.

"Okay, boys, time to eat!" you call over to them.

Copia immediately scoops the child up, tossing him high in the air, watching him giggle the whole way. He does it a few more times as he makes his way over to you and the picnic blanket. "Sorella, this all looks so good. Grazie. I wish I could've been some help to you," he offers his gratitude as he sits next to you, baby in his lap.

"It's okay, Papa. We know how hard you've been working, and without you, this whole Abbey wouldn't run, so really I should thank you for making it so wonderful here."

He nods his head at you, silenced by your sweet words. "Still, grazie, cara mia."

Lunch goes by peacefully, enjoying the warm sun and the image playing out before you: Copia trying to get Giovanni to eat some cut up strawberries and the little one sputtering red mush everywhere, making a mess of himself and his father.

"You'll have to change your clothes after lunch," you giggle, taking a bite of your sandwich.

"Mm, what a shame... Won't he be taking a nap then?" Your Papa gives you a smug look.

You blush at his implication and look around to make sure no one could hear. "Papa..."

"Oh, don't be so coy, Sorella. You certainly weren't shy when you went down-"

"Papa!! Hush!" you whisper yell at him, hiding your face in your hands.

He waits for you to peek through your fingers at him, and you both burst out in laughter.

• • •

What was supposed to be a quick stop back in his suite of course turned into a heated make out session on the kitchen counter.

"Cazzo, Stellina, I would take you on the fucking dinner table right now if I could," he grunts, biting at your bottom lip.

"Hmm, guess you'll just have to daydream about it in your office, huh?" You tease him.

"I'll have you there, too, if I have anything to do with it." His hands pull harshly at your hair, smashing his face against yours again. Your tongues dance with one another as your fists crumple the fresh shirt he'd put on.

When you can no longer wait for air, you push yourself off of him, breathing heavy. "You're gonna have to fix your paint, you know that?" you chuckle.

"I can see that," he wipes some gray from your lip to show you.

You both fall into giggles again, staring into each other's eyes as you reluctantly release one another to return back to your duties.

• • •

"Mm, we've probably got a few minutes before little Gio wakes up, right?" Copia grumbles into your cleavage.

You swear this man will be the death of you. He finally gets a day off, to sleep in if he wants, and the first things on his mind this morning is pounding you into the mattress... Again. Like he didn't do that all last night.

"All you ever think about is sex," you chuckle, kissing the top of his head.

"When it's as good as you are, amore mio, sì. I think about it morning, noon, and night," he starts pressing kisses across your chest, grinding his growing hardness against your thigh.

"Copia-" you start, hearing a couple thuds down the hallway, "What is that? Do you hear that?"

Seconds later, a loud shriek comes from the baby's room. In an instant you're both jumping up to throw on some clothes.

Copia slips on some pants before bolting out of his room with you hot on his trail, tying on his robe. In the hallway, you're both confronted with Copia's Prime Mover with Giovanni on her hip and diaper bag slung over her shoulder.

"What are you doing?!" The man steps right in front of her to stop her from shoving further down the hallway.

"I'm taking him and we're going!! You've got some new life now, so we're gonna move on too!" She is clearly out of her mind, her eyes bloodshot like she hasn't slept in days and bruises all up her forearms.

"What are you talking about??" Copia attempts to grab the child from her, but she snatches him away, which only eggs on his crying.

"Oh, please! You think I don't know you're fucking the nanny?! I saw the condoms in the trash last time I was here, and now she's in your robe!"

Tears of anger build up in his eyes as he turns to look at you; he felt totally helpless.

It gives his Prime Mover just enough time to push past him and into the living area. "You just want to put me away so you can move on to your new life with your newer, younger little whore!"

"Do not talk about her! She cares for your child more than you do!! While you're out on the streets strung out, she's here, doing the job you took vows to do!" he shouts to defend you.

"That was before I knew you ran a cult! All of this is just some facade to make you famous! You're a selfish bastard, leading the blind just so you won't be lonely like when you were a kid," her words cut deep.

Copia clenches both fists, a fire you'd never seen in his eyes before, as he very evenly doles out, "Give me back my child and get the fuck out."

As if on cue, the little one reaches out for you, face red as tears stream down his face, "Mama! Mamaaa!!"

You step closer to her, wanting to reach out for the squirming little bundle in her arm.

"So you think you're his mama now?" she cuts her eyes at you.

"No, I- I tried to teach him... I would never," you stammer, not knowing what to do, "Please. Please just give him to me."

"What? Let you have my husband and my baby? I think not, bitch." She moves towards the door, but you move with her, body acting on pure adrenaline now. The child reaches out, little hands latching onto your robe, and you wrap your arms around him to slip him away from her, but her fingers lock tightly around his thigh, making him shriek once again.

"Please. Please don't hurt him!! Don't hurt him!" You raise your voice at her, holding the baby tight to your chest.

The next thing you know, Copia is letting Aether and a couple other ghouls in the room, and they swiftly pounce on her, pulling her away from you and the baby you care so much about. You look down to see that his little leg was already bruising from where she'd grabbed and twisted at his skin.

You held him tightly, bouncing him around and humming something to drown it all out as Copia and the ghouls dragged her out into the hallway. The antipope was absolutely seething, and you didn't care to know what he was screaming at her.

Looking out to the sunny balcony, you feel the urge to walk out there. Honestly it was probably to soothe you as much as it was for the screaming one in your arms. Before you can move a muscle, your lover bursts back into the room, making a beeline for you. Without a word, he wraps his arms around you and Gio, resting his chin on top of your head. Fighting back tears, he holds you like that for a while.

Finally comes a soft, "I am so sorry, cara."

Pulling away just enough to look up at him, you reassure him, "It's not your fault. Are you okay?"

"I will be. Please tell me she didn't hurt you," he brushes his fingers through your hair.

"No, she didn't, but we may need to have this looked at," you motion to his son's bruised leg.

A series of emotions flash across Copia's face upon seeing the injury. Part of him blames himself for ever letting that woman get close to either of you. But he also knew that without her, he wouldn't have either of you in his life.

"Well, she's not coming back. I won't let her hurt anyone here ever again. She needs help but I can't keep letting her come back, not when I have a son who needs safety and stability."

• • •

Months went by, and it felt like a whole new chapter for all of you. Copia officially separated from his Prime Mover, announcing it at Black Mass; he always felt transparency was important in his congregation. You had moved into his room permanently, and Copia had even hired another nanny to give you a break from time to time. He didn't want you feeling like caring for his son was the only thing you were good for. He also hired assistants for his office, Siblings of Sin who were honored to take some weight off their Papa's shoulders.

Now that the two of you had less worries, you almost didn't know how to fill your time. Almost...

"Your sidekick has Giovanni out in the gardens... What do you say we have our own playtime, eh?" Copia chuckles next to your ear as you recline back against his chest on the sofa.

"Do not call her my sidekick," you laugh at your lover, "She does just as much work as me, she deserves more credit than that."

"I don't know, dolcezza... She doesn't spend the night like you do."

"Oh, and look how much trouble that got us in," you smirk, turning to catch him in a kiss. "You're not going to start sleeping with the new nanny again, are you?"

"No, no, no, no, amore mio," he whispers right in your ear, "Il mio cazzo belongs to you alone."

You huff out a laugh, "That's all? Just your 𝘤𝘢𝘻𝘻𝘰?"

"Well, perhaps il mio cuore, too..."

"Perhaps, huh?" you tease him, turning to get on your knees in between his legs. Leaning forward, you give him a single chaste kiss. "Don't I deserve a little more than 'perhaps'?" You sit back on your heels, unbuttoning your shirt slowly.

"Dolcezza..." Copia pants, already excited just from seeing your lacy bra.

"Ah, ah, ahhh. Don't 'dolcezza' me," you wink at him.

"Please-" he whines in a way that was a little unbecoming of a Papa.

Your shirt drifts slowly to the floor, and Copia reaches out to touch you, but you swat his hands away. "I don't know, Papa. Maybe I don't mean enough to you. Maybe I should just go take care of the throbbing between my legs all by myself, huh? Make you sit out here and listen while I cry out, making a mess of myself..."

He feels his cock twitch at the thought of you touching yourself in his bed.

"Stellina, please, you know I love you so..." His eyes roam your body hungrily.

"How do I know you mean it, Papa? That you aren't just saying that? For all I know, you tell the other nanny that all the time..." You grin at him, leaning forward and propping yourself up on your knees. With your elbows propped on his shoulders, he has a nice view of your cleavage spilling out of your bra just the way he likes.

"No one else is worthy of those words, no one else is worthy of these feelings I have for you." His arm snakes around you, hand resting on the small of your back. "Let me show you, cara mia. Let me prove how much I love you. Only you."

You bite your lip. It felt good to make a powerful man like him crumble, to have him rock hard without even touching him. Your little teasing game is fun, but you know his words are serious.

"Take me, Papa. Make me all yours. Prove I'm the only one for you."

With that, he wraps his arms around your thighs, carrying you right to his bedroom and kicking the door closed loudly. Your back hits the bed and your torso is met by his hot mouth tracing all your curves. Impatiently, he pulls at your tight pencil skirt, needing to feel more of your skin.

Reaching down, you undo the zipper on your hip, "There." Another wink.

The skirt finds its place in the corner of the room as Copia kisses at the top of your panties. "Mia dea... ti amo con tutto quello che ho. Sei la mia dea."

A blush tints your cheeks, you'd learned a bit more Italian in the last few months.

"Worship me, then."

He looks up to meet your commanding eyes, freezing for a brief moment before working his own shirt to the floor and positioning himself between your sinful thighs. Kissing at the supple skin there, he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder. Hungrily, his fingers grab at your skin until they hook into the lace at your hip. A tearing sound rings out and you feel his breath on your core.

"Hey! I liked those!" you whine.

"I'll buy you another pair, principessa," he looks up at you through his eyelashes while placing a sloppy kiss right to your clit. You can't help but buck up into his mouth at the sensation.

He grips your hips firmly to hold you in place. You had taunted the beast and now you would reap what you sowed. His mouth latches onto you, sucking on your already swollen clit. The feeling is so intense, you instinctively try to push him off you, but he is having none of it.

"Oh!! Papa!" you cry out, one hand tangling in his hair and the other gripping his satin sheets.

He offers you some reprieve by backing off of your bundle of nerves and instead opting to flatten his tongue against you, licking a stripe. His tongue then traces your folds before teasing your entrance, threatening to push inside. And he does just that. Eyes rolling back in his head as he stretches you with his tongue.

It has you mewling his name and arching as much as his grip will let you. When his nose makes contact with your clit, your hand in his hair tightens as you practically fuck yourself on his face.

His lips move back up to suck on your clit again, and you whimper at the loss of his tongue, but it is quickly replaced by two fingers curling deep inside you, as deep as he can reach. 𝘎𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦. Devious eyes watch your face as he curls his digits, scratching that spot that he finds so well.

"Papa- damnit! Satanas, Papa, I'm gonna cum," you warn him, but he's ready for it, only sucking harder at your words. You let out a needy moan as your body shudders around his fingers, juices coating his hand and chin. He doesn't stop until you're done riding out the wave of your orgasm.

Unexpectedly, he snatches you up in a kiss, forcing you to taste yourself on him. "Do you taste that, amore? You on my mouth. There will never be another, you are the only one, I could never want for anyone else." He has your head reeling; he's never been so possessive, and it's hot.

Pulling him down, you both fall back on the plush bed together. His fingers lace with yours and his erection presses against your thigh, still trapped in those unholy tight jeans. Wanting to offer him some relief, you tease your fingers over the large bulge, cupping at it and earning a groan from the man. Clearly, he was in need of some attention, so you pop open the button and slide the zipper down, taking his girth in your hand.

"Cazzo, baby, I need you," his eyebrows knit together as he begs for you.

"Then, take me, Papa," you wink at him, "No need to keep me waiting!"

He chuckles and gives you one more kiss before kicking off his jeans. "This needs to go," he snakes a hand behind your back to unhook your bra, banishing it to the corner with your skirt. His mouth gently teases your nipples as he stretches for the bedside drawer, fumbling for a condom.

Suddenly, he sits up, looking a little frantically at the empty box in the drawer. "Fuck!" He groans, head falling in his hands, "I forgot to send Aether for more..."

"Oooh so that's who does your dirty work, huh?" You tease, sitting up next to him, and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "It's okay, ya know... Maybe we don't need one."

He gives you a confused look.

"Maybe... maybe it's about time for little Gio to be a big brother, hm?"

His eyes widen, eyebrows raised drastically. He dips his head slightly, reading your face for any sign that this was a joke. "A-are you... Are you s-sure, amore?"

You love those funny little moments when the stuttering Cardinal jumps back out of him again. "Yes," you chew on your bottom lip, cupping his cheek, "I'm sure. Let's have a baby."

For a brief moment, it looked like his brain was short-circuiting. "O-okay," he nods his head, eyebrows softening and a big smile spreading across his face. "You're really sure, Stellina?" He takes his face in your hands, looking all sappy, "You want to have miei bambini?"

"Sì," you nod at his little switch to Italian, kissing him on the nose, "Now are we gonna get all lovey dovey about it, or are you gonna get me pregnant?" Your fingers tease at his erection, still standing proudly.

"Mmm, maybe a little of both, sì?" His lips catch yours again, and the weight of his body pushes your back down onto the bed. You spread your legs for him to get between them, but he simply shakes his head, flipping you over instead. When you look over your shoulder at him, feigning a snooty look, he chuckles deeply before growling in your ear, "You intend to be bred, do you not, Sorella?"

His words make your stomach do flips, and you clench your thighs together at the thought.

Now with you flat on your stomach, Copia's strong hands works the muscles in your back, slowly massaging up from the small of your back to your shoulder blades. "I need you nice and relaxed, principessa." His fingers lace into the base of your hair, tugging your head up to look at him, "You want it to take, sì?"

"Yes, Papa. I do," you moan for him.

"Bene..." He shoves your head back down in the pillows and lands a sharp 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘬! on your ass, earning a squeal from you. After he smoothes over the red mark, he lets his hand dip between your thighs. His fingers moving over your folds at this angle feel impeccable.

You push your ass up in the air, trying to get more friction from him, not even understanding how he could be so patient right now. But as if reading your mind, you feel his warm thighs straddle yours and his tip line up with you.

"To feel you so fully and completely, amore mio... I know this will be spectacular," he praises you, pushing forward with a needy groan.

It does feel a little different than what you'd grown used to, hearing a little pop as the tip pushes through your entrance. Things feel somehow smoother than before, maybe from the lack of protection, but maybe you were just that wet. You take him all the way to the hilt, whimpering and moaning into the pillow.

He sets a devilish pace pretty quickly, barely giving you time to get used to the stretch. The discomfort quickly wanes, and you feel your lover's breath hot on your back as he fucks into you in earnest, losing himself in feeling your wet heat unshielded. He leans down to press a few kisses and small bite to your shoulder before he throws his head back, really picking up the pace.

Your hands reach back gripping at his thighs mostly, as your makeup smears across his satin pillowcases.

"Cara... I need- more," he grunts, a small warning before he sits himself up, dragging your hips up off the bed and slams back into you.

"Ah!!!" you scream at the sudden movement, trying to stabilize yourself on your hands and knees. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the air alongside your noises of pleasure.

One of Copia's hands leaves your hips to ponytail your hair, pulling harshly to urge you back on his girth with more force.

"Papaaa!" is the only thing you can manage, hardly able to form a thought at this point.

"Mia dolce dea, I'm going to fill you with my seed. I'll make you grow round with my child," he tells you between thrusts, "it will be... 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘢, 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘢..."

"Copia, please... Please, touch me, Papa," you cry for him.

Using the grip he maintained on your hair, he heaves you up so you're standing on your knees, back flush against his chest, "You think I would leave mia principessa untouched? What kind of Papa do you think I am?"

Finally releasing your hair, the rough pads of his fingers toy with your nipples. He can't wait until your breasts swell too... Holding you stable with one arm, the other searches for your clit, finding it in expert time. As his finger starts to circle it, you arch your hips back, also aiding him in finding that perfect spot inside you, "Oh! Oh, Satanas Papa! Right 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦- 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱!"

Always a good listener, he does exactly as he's told, holding his pace, snapping up into your heat the exact same way every time. You feel your orgasm rapidly approaching under his ministrations.

"Vieni per me, amore, per favore, vieni per me. I'm cumming- cum with me," he loses himself in the feeling of you. And when you feel an unfamiliar warmth spread deep inside you, it sends you right over the edge with him.

Your lover struggles to hold you close to him as you double over, riding out your release. His hips continue to buck into you in shallow thrusts through his orgasm.

Finally, he sits back on his heels, pulling you with him, cock still stuffed inside you. He throws his head back and rakes his hands through his hair, jaw hung open as he catches his breath. "You are perfetto, amore mio. You know this?" He wraps his arms around you, hugging your torso.

"I'm far from it, Copia." You lean back against him, resting your head against his jaw.

"No, no, no. I will show you how perfect you are. Even if it takes our whole lives, you will know how much you mean to me." He kisses the top of your head, chest still heaving.

"Papa..." you turn, giving him a quick, sloppy kiss, "I love you."

"Anch'io ti amo, cara mia, ti amo così tanto."

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