#the curator x the reader

[maria-rayro]

His curse. Part 1/?

I'm gonna tag you cause you are the reason why I fell for this man @lacteaway

A concept: what if the Curator starts coming to you in your dreams? And you have no idea who he is, but the fact is that he, as a storyteller, has been watching you for a long time, and at some point he was imbued with your sad and difficult fate, and decided to save you from nightmares, replacing them with dreams with his participation.

And one day you fall asleep and find yourself in a strange dark castle, and you think that soon your brain will again make you plunge into the already familiar horrors, when suddenly you see the Curator at the end of the corridor, and he politely invites you to come up. You think that this is a deception and will end the same as usual, but you still obediently go, realizing that you cannot run away from anyone in any case.

However, instead of violence or other horrors, he just hugs you. You are in shock and do not understand anything, but you press yourself against his chest, suddenly sobbing. His hugs feel so real.

He continues to visit you in your dreams every night, and after a long time, you finally begin to fall asleep without fear that a nightmare awaits you again. A man gives you warm hugs every night, sometimes gently stroking your hair, sometimes cradeling in his arms, letting you cry. He no longer needs to call you to come to him, you do it yourself, willingly running up with a barely noticeable smile on your lips.

One day, you suddenly timidly pull away from his arms to look him in the face. The man looks barely perceptibly alarmed as he looks back into your eyes. You are trying to formulate what you want to say to him, but all thoughts leave your head when he suddenly touches your face, gently brushing the strands from your forehead. "Maybe you want some tea?" he asks, and it's not the first time you've heard his voice (he's whispered soothing words in your ear before), but you're still flinch. "I'm so ignoramus. Where are my manners? You've been coming here for a month and I still haven't offered you a cup of tea" his calm tone makes you smile. "Let's go," he says softly, stepping back and holding out his hand to you, inviting you to follow him. You take the outstretched hand, when suddenly the other is near your face. The man jokingly shakes his finger at you. "But don't tell anyone about it, okay? Everything that happens here is a secret, and no one should know about our meetings. Okay?" he asks, looking into your eyes, and you immediately nod. "Good. C'mon".

You follow him, looking around curiously. When you first came here, this place seemed intimidating to you, and the cawing of crows, periodically heard somewhere nearby, weren't helpful. However, now you don't see anything terrible in this castle, and you even find it quite cozy, actually. Especially when this strange man is around.

You enter a room where cups of hot tea and a small porcelain sugar bowl are already on the table. A man sits in a chair and you follow his example. He takes his cup and you carefully take the other one too. He takes a sip and you keep looking at him. "Who are you?" you ask, holding your cup.

"I suppose I should be called the Curator. It's not my name, of course, but the names - they're like jackets; they're fit if you wear them right," the man skillfully avoids answering.

"So, are you like my... guardian angel?" you ask uncertainly, and the man suddenly laughs very softly, restrainedly.

"Well, in a way, I think," he admits. "But only metaphorically. I can only protect you from your nightmares," he smiles a little.

"Are you real?" you ask.

"You're going to give me an existential crisis with questions like that, my dear," he laughs. "Anyway, I don't think that such a category has anything to do with who I am."

You remain silent, giving yourself time to consider your next question. "Are you a figment of my imagination?"

The curator looks pleasantly surprised. "That's a good question, very smart one, actually. Yes, I'm not a figment of your imagination. I'm something else. I'm afraid I can only appear to you in dreams. At least in a form in which I can hug you," he explains. You smile shyly. "In the physical world, all I can do is be a silhouette that people see out of the corner of their vision and that disappears when they look at it. Or a crow," he says, sipping his tea.

"A crow?" you ask with interest. You suddenly remember how, having woken up a long time ago from a nightmare, you saw a black bird sitting on the windowsill. You then were very much frightened; You must confess that since childhood you were really afraid of crows...

"Yes, a crow. I'm sorry I scared you then," he says, still holding the cup.

"Um... so... should I call you the Curator? But... um... isn't that weird?" you ask uncertainly, and the man smiles softly. "I mean, this jacket suits you, of course, but when I see it on you, I get the feeling that you are some kind of a boss or head of a sect."

"You are free to put any other jacket on me, if you feel more comfortable that way, my dear. Or not to put on anything at all," the man says calmly. "We used to get by without names, after all."

You look at him thoughtfully. "And what do you do? Besides hugging me in my dreams," you chuckle awkwardly.

"I guess my main occupation is being a story keeper," he gestures elegantly at the overflowing bookcases. "One of these books contains yours, by the way. Already written, already lived. Survived. I was there when you went through the horrors of that night... I watched as a disembodied ghost, standing behind your back," he puts the cup on the saucer.

You inadvertently recall that terrible night, after which you suffered for a long time because of nightmares. "Do you enjoy scary stories?" you ask.

The curator sighs, looking away. "It's not like I have a choice about anything here," he says honestly. "I'm afraid I'm forced to drag out my existence within the walls of this castle, being able only watching other people's fates, having no power to influence them. This is my burden. My curse."

Outside the windows you can hear the cawing of crows. You carefully look at the Curator. "And how is this curse removed? With a kiss, like in fairy tales?" you smile as the man looks back at you, looking a little confused by your words.

You smile innocently at him.

"I... don't think that's how it works," he says, still a little confused. Uh-oh, did you make him embarrassed? If he could blush, he totally would do that. But so far he just avoid looking at you and instead suddenly decides to get up from his chair. “Do you like fairy tales? I think I have something here that I could read to you,” he skillfully changes the topic. You are smiling.

"Do you want to tell me a bedtime story even though I'm already asleep?" you ask. It's cute, actually.

"Why not?" the man asks, pulling one of the books off the shelf and quickly flipping through it. Then he puts it back and looks around the row of identical spines again before finally pulling out the right book and turning back to face you. "You don't mind?" he politely clarifies.

You smile and take a sip of your tea before answering. "I'd love to hear your voice," you say honestly.

The curator smiles softly, too, calmly walking over to a sofa nearby. He taps a couple of times on the blue upholstery without looking at you. You immediately put the cup on the table and get up from the chair, after a couple of moments sitting next to the man on the couch. He opens the book, about to start reading, and you, after thinking, decide to make yourself comfortable, and lay your head on his knees. The curator blinks several times in confusion, freezing, but then exhales, relaxing, and runs his free hand into your hair, starting to read and stroke your head.

You wake up a few hours later completely satisfied and with a smile on your face.

[arkhamslvts]

jason who not only has multiple videos of you bent over, getting fucked until you can't think. but he also has pictures of you with his cum leaking out of your pussy.

whenever you let him cum inside, he makes sure he does it more than once, maybe it was your cries of "please fill me up sir.. i need it so bad" or maybe it was instinct. it didn't matter though when he cums the first time he doesn't pull out, just presses a kiss to your neck and mutters "wanna feel full, don't you angel?" obviously you're confused because he just finished, you do feel full, but you nod anyways and all he does is chuckle before he starts moving again. his hands firm on your waist, despite how much you try, you're not getting away from it "no baby, you wanna feel full? you need it? you're gonna take every drop, gonna make you so full you start leakin' on the sheets." the vulgarity of his words make you moan and clench around him, he doesn't care when you cum because he wouldn't stop either way. and at the end of the night, when your legs are shaking and he's pumped you full of 4 loads, he reaches for his phone, his other hand rubbing your pussy gently, "don't move baby, let me take a picture of this fuckin' mess" it's embarrassing, and if you didn't feel his cum dripping out of you, down the plush of your thighs and onto the sheets, and then his tongue, licking up whatever slipped out, maybe you would've had a bit more resistance.

[jediavengers]

𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

warnings: 18+, smut, piv, handjob, switch!anakin, soft dom!reader, praise, manipulation

pairing: switch!manipulative!anakin x soft dom!reader

anakin’s thighs were soaked. your slick, spit, and even some of his pre-cum all pooled at the base of his cock and the tops of his thighs.

he was being such a good boy, and you couldn’t help but admire the way his head was thrown back and his hair clung to his sweaty forehead. His neck glistened with sweat and his curls stuck to the base of his neck as well.

His lips were pursed and eyes were closed, trying to take deep breaths through his nose. He was getting a tad bit frustrated that you’d denied him of an orgasm so many times, but was able to contain himself with a few inhales and internal encouragements to himself.

“You doing okay?” You asked, brushing a piece of damp hair out of his eyes,

your free hand gently gripped his cock again.

Anakin didn’t answer for a moment, he just let out a whimper so you rose a brow.

“Ani.” You scolded, causing his lips to part and his eyes to open.

“M’okay I just..” He scrunched his nose. “Please stop teasing me i-it hurts.” He begged softly.

“Oh baby,” You cooed, beginning to slowly pump his cock again. Anakin jolted, his back arching up off of the bed. “M’sorry, i’ve been a bit hard on you tonight, haven’t I?”

Anakin whimpered, squeezing his eyes back shut. “D-don’t stop.. just.. don’t stop!”

“I won’t.” Orgasm denial after orgasm denial had him worn out, so you knew it was time to grant him release.

You then pulled your hand away.

“Y-you- you said-“ Anakin cried out, snapping his eyes open and letting a few tears roll down his already damp cheeks.

“Shhh, you want my pussy don’t you? You don’t want me to just give you my hand, right? Made you wait so long, i think you deserve more than my tiny little hand, hm?”

Anakin nodded vigorously and you straddled him, gripping his base and running his tip through your slick.

After a moment, you sunk down, both of you moaning at the feeling of being connected once again.

Earlier, you’d told Anakin to keep his hands off, so he tightly gripped the sheets, staying away from grasping your hips.

“I’m all yours, cmon, you can touch me now, baby.”

Anakin let out a sigh of relief, gripping your hip tightly and raising you up, almost immediately slamming you back down.

You finally let him take control, his hips thrusting up into you as his hands guided you up and down onto his cock.

Anakin used one of his hands to vigorously rub your clit, causing you to throw your head back and whine. He had you now. That boy would act like he’s obedient until he got to you to give in, letting him fuck you with no mercy.

His thrusts were sharp and rhythmic, never slowing down or speeding up from his steady pace.

He was close, you could tell by the way he gripped harder and bit his lip roughly.

You weren’t far behind him, the sensation of his padded fingers on your nub making you see stars.

“M’close, Ani. M’close!” You murmured, helping his thrusts by bouncing.

“Me too- I-“ Anakin then held your hips down, his thrusts slowing as you both let out pathetic moans and let your juices mix together as he came in your sopping pussy.

His already damp thighs were now coated with your slick, a faucet being turned on as his thrusts slowly continued.

After you finished, Anakin laid you down next to him and had you snuggle into his side.

The trick was to let you think you were in control for a while. Then he could get exactly what he wanted.

tag list: @gallerygourmet @anisangeldust @kingdomhate @obsessedwthdilfs @sythethecarrot ask to be added!

[gravehags]

at the altar of venus

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: body worship babyyyy, self-consciousness, body issues, handjobs, fingering, crying, possessiveness, two fools in love and lust, two fools being gross and making each other laugh

Words: 4,251

Summary: When you watch your beloved turn and turn in front of that mirror, you know something is off. Lucky for him, you have much to say on the matter.

a/n: I JUST THINK HANDSOME OLD MAN APPRECIATION TIME with yknow. a side of total filth and desperate desire.

~~~

What a day.

You wiggle your nude body in Copia’s soft sheets, nuzzle into your pillow and look across the room. Your lover is standing before the full-length mirror next to the dresser - also nude - turning his body to consider himself at different angles in the low lamplight. You watch him for a moment, watch the way his fingers card through his graying hair, loose from the grip of the day’s pomade. He runs his hand down his chest thoughtfully and comes to rest at the slight paunch of his belly. He cups the skin and his lips tug downwards into a frown.

“Amore?” he asks quietly, “do you think I’m eh, nice looking? Handsome?”

Any other time you’d laugh out loud at such an absurd question but you can tell from his slumped posture that he’s feeling downtrodden and that simply won’t do.

“The most handsome man I’ve ever seen. And that is not hyperbole. You’re the only man to ever turn my head.”

He sighs heavily through his nose and looks back at his reflection.

“You don’t think I’m…too old for you?”

Now it’s your turn to frown.

“My love…come here.”

He turns to look at you again and you crook your finger and throw back the covers. Fidgeting awkwardly he ambles over and slides into bed and you waste no time in pressing soft kisses to his jaw.

“Shall I tell you how handsome I find you? In great detail - from tip to toe?”

He scoffs and moves to pull the covers up over his chest but you gently rest your hand on his to stop him.

“You eh…you would do that?”

Now you do laugh.

“With pleasure,” you murmur, “let me just–” you pull yourself up and swing your leg over to straddle him, “--there we go. Let’s start here.” You rake your fingernails through his soft, wavy hair and smile when he shivers.

“I love your beautiful, full head of gorgeous thick hair and I love the bits of silver threaded through it most of all. I’ve told you before I’ve always had an, ah, thing for older men and well…what sort of older gentleman aficionado would I be if I didn’t love graying hair? I love the way the light catches on the silver and how it feels between my fingers when you’re uh…busy between my legs.”

He laughs softly through his nose, which is incidentally where your journey takes you next.

“And speaking of when you’re between my legs,” you say, waggling your brows as you drag your fingertip down the slope of his nose, “when this beautiful, stately, elegant thing nudges at my clit…oh. Copia I’ve always loved your nose since day one but what this thing is capable of…”

Your eyes unfocus for a moment as you lean in to kiss it absentmindedly.

“You’re getting distracted, amore mio,” Copia murmurs, eyes glittering. Eyes. Those pretty, mismatched eyes and those long brown lashes…

“As always, you are too kind to me,” he chortles, reaching a hand up to stroke your hair. Sathanas, you didn’t even realize you had said that out loud. “I used to hate my eyes when I was a kid, you know? Always a reminder of the bloodline I was a part of but never really a part of…not according to Nihil anyway. Where others thought the white eye was ‘commanding’ on Secondo or ‘alluring’ on Terzo, it was always eh, ‘unsettling’ on me.”

“Hmm,” you say thoughtfully, “I certainly don’t think you need them but did you ever consider contact lenses?”

“Oh, sì, sì,” he nods, “tried them once too in my twenties but eh…something was just…off. Personally I thought I looked creepier with two green eyes.”

You lean back a little and raise a hand to cover his white eye, and then the green while tilting your head.

“Shoulda got a white contact for the green eye instead so you could go around looking like some sexy demonic husky.”

Copia bursts out in laughter, his chest shaking beneath your palms.

“I thought this was supposed to make me feel better?”

“It is! I made you laugh, didn’t I?” you say with a grin, leaning down to place a slow, soft kiss on his lips that has his hands settling on your hips.

“Love these too,” you breathe when you finally separate, “love how soft and plump they are and I especially love the little freckle right here–” you place the pad of your thumb on his full lower lip, “--God you have no idea how it drove me mad day in and day out whenever we’d work together. Driving me to distraction. All I’d ever want to do when you got close to me is…” You lean forward once more and catch his lip gently between your teeth, sucking on it until you feel his cock twitch against you.

“Mmm,” you pull off him with a wet noise that has him panting into the dimly lit room, “is someone starting to buy into the truth that he’s the most handsome man in the abbey? Perhaps even the world?”

“Don’t push your luck, dolcezza, I’m just eh, excited to have a beautiful, soft, young thing on top of me. One who is very good with her mouth, I might add.”

“Oh, that’s too bad you still don’t believe me when I say you’re beautiful. Try harder and maybe I’ll give you a little treat, hmm?”

He chuckles and tilts his head back.

“I’ll do my best. Done with the face, then?”

“And skip your glorious little mustache and impeccably crafted sideburns? Cardinal, you know I’m a woman who pays attention to the details. To say nothing of the freckles that are scattered over your face and down–” you trail a finger down his throat and tap on his clavicle, “--over your chest and shoulders? I’d kiss every single one if I thought I’d live to accomplish that.” You amuse yourself for a moment by playing connect the dots with the marks until your fingertip slides over and traces the lines of his tattoo.

“You never did tell me the story with this.”

He smiles, thumbs brushing soft circles on your thighs.

“Terzo did it. I had just entered the priesthood and he came to my quarters and got me drunk and convinced–”

“Wait, when you say ‘Terzo did it’ you mean Terzo gave you the tattoo?”

“Sì,” he nods, “He knew how much I loved the Omen movies and always complained that I never did anything wild so…”

You lean forward and inspect the ink.

“That looks…a lot better than anything I would have expected from Terzo.”

Copia snickers.

“His lines were surprisingly steady, but his hand not nearly strong enough. I had a professional touch it up later but that stays between us, sì?”

You give him a salute and lean back, raking your fingernails down his chest.

“Back to the topic at hand,” you murmur, “unholy fuck I love your body hair. It’s so thick and soft and I love the way it scratches just right at my nipples when you’re fucking me into the mattress.”

He sucks in a breath so fast he nearly chokes.

“You’re really not holding back, are you cara mia?”

“Nope,” you confirm, watching the way the tip of his tongue slides out to wet his lips as he eyes your breasts. Briefly, your hands abandon his torso to come up and cup them, thumbing across your hardened nipples. You pull away and grab his hands, placing them where yours once were. Greedily, he palms the flesh as your hips make little circles.

“These,” you breathe, your hands covering his, “these gorgeous, big, strong hands with these thick fingers…I can’t even count how many times I brought myself off to the thought of them.”

“O-oh?” he pants, removing one hand and bringing it up to cup your face, “with the gloves a-and everything?”

You lean into his touch.

“Especially with the gloves. Copia, the way I’d fantasize about being able to feel every stitch and groove of those things when I’d picture them inside of me…” You turn your head to place a kiss to the scar tissue at the center of his palm and his thumb strokes your cheekbone. “Mmm, you got me distracted again. Where was I?”

You look down and remember, scooting backwards down his body to settle in between his thighs. He whines now that you’re only touchable if he sits up, too tired to make an effort. Not, however, too tired for other things, you think as you look down at his hardened cock resting heavy against his belly, smearing pre on the hairs there.

“We’ll address this,” you say, gesturing to his erection, “in a bit. But for now…this.”

Your word is punctuated by the way you run your hands over his slight paunch, grinning as you knead the flesh. Copia’s shoulders twitch as if he’d like nothing more than to fold in on himself, eyes trained up somewhere over your shoulder.

“Your soft tummy is so sweet and perfect and–” you make a noise like a big cat growling, “--I just want to eat it up.”

“Clearly from its appearance I’ve eh, done enough eating for the both of us.”

You frown deeply.

“Copia,” you say, your tone deadly serious, “since when do you have problems with a belly? I hope you don’t have problems with my belly and mine is a lot bigger than yours—“

“Amore, never!” he gasps, horrified, “You…you are perfection. You are soft and plush and-and a goddess. This–” he says, gesturing lamely to his paunch, “--is the result of old age. Old age and too much spaghetti.”

“Yeah, and that’s exactly why it’s hot,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “My love, this little belly shows that not only have you enjoyed life, reveled in it the way Sathanas intended, but that you’ve survived. Endured. I love this belly the way I love every single line on your face. You wouldn’t be my Copia without them. I didn’t fall in love with some guy in his twenties with a waxed six-pack. Quite frankly…ew. Respectfully, beloved, I fell for the kind, smart, handsome, distinguished gentleman in his almost-fifties. Who is sort of goofy and really good with his tongue. I mean…really good.”

He laughs softly through his nose, regarding you with watery eyes. His lips form the words to thank you but no voice comes out. That’s alright, though. You’re not telling him these truths for your benefit.

“Shall I continue?” you ask gently, smiling when he nods.

Your hands slide down to his thighs, where you massage the flesh.

“You know I hadn’t even seen these - like, really seen them - until our first official date? When you wore those tight, tight pants? Lord have mercy these things are thick. I’d be content to gnaw on them like a dog with a bone if you’d let me.”

“Who says I wouldn’t?” he murmurs, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you say with a wink, “I’d compliment your juicy ass too if I could get to it so just remind me to give it a healthy smack next time you’re standing, huh? The first time I saw you in profile in your cassock I almost passed out. Goddamn.”

He laughs and tilts his head at you.

“Ti adoro follemente,” he says, “thank you for making this old man love himself, even if it’s just a tiny bit.”

“I’ll take a tiny bit for now, we’ll work on the positive reinforcement.”

“Oh? And what kind of positive reinforcement did you have in mind?”

You ghost your fingers along his half hard cock, wrapping them around the shaft and leaning forward to spit thickly, your saliva landing on the head. The act has Copia moaning and shifting his hips up into your touch as you stroke him back to full hardness.

“Ah, dolcezza,” he sighs, half-lidded eyes watching your hand slide along the shaft, “if only you had known what I fantasized about with your hands.”

“Well go on, bello mio,” you purr, swiping your thumb along the slit to gather the pre leaking from the head. “Tell me.”

He grunts and ruts up into your touch.

“W-we’d be in your office…working on some…some administrative thing. And I’d watch the way those clever little fingers would fly across your keyboard–ah, fuck–and I’d imagine you leaving your desk a-and settling on your knees between my legs. Lifting my cassock up and palming me through m-my trousers. S-sometimes you’d use your mouth too but…always your hands. Always those s-soft fingers wrapped around me j-just like this. I–oh, cazzo–”

His voice cuts off with a moan as you spit on him once again, the wet slide of your pumping hand and his harsh breathing the only sound in the room. With your other hand you reach down to cup his balls, gently caressing them as you continue to stroke the length of him.

“I-I’m not going to last, amore,” he rasps out, thrusting into your grip, “just like that bellezza mia.”

“You’re beautiful,” you murmur, “you’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, and I love you just as you are.”

You know the last handful of words will send him over the edge and send him they do, until he’s coming in spurts over your knuckles and gasping your name. You continue to stroke him until he has nothing left to give and when he’s spent, you raise your hand to your face and fastidiously lick every drop of his spend from your fingers as he watches with his mouth hung open. When your tongue passes over your middle finger for the final time he grabs at you, eagerly hauling you up his body and slotting his lips over your mouth in a slow, decadent kiss. When you finally pull away, it’s with a smile and you nudge his nose with yours. Gently, you roll off of him and nuzzle into his side, lazily kissing his shoulder. When he rolls onto his side to face you, you move to do the same but he presses you back down into the mattress.

“Copia, your stamina is impressive but you literally just came I don’t expect–”

He chuckles, gently dragging the bedsheets down to expose your body.

“Your turn, dolcezza.”

“My turn–oh.”

The realization hits you as the fingers of his right hand tease at the underside of your breasts and against your belly, dipping further down to cup at the wet heat of you, driving a gasp from your lips. He leans towards you to inhale deep along your neck, lips ghosting over your hair.

“I wouldn’t even know where to start in praising you, bellezza mia. Sweet - in both disposition and taste, tender in body and heart, beautiful in all ways. Tongue and mind as sharp as a tack and ridiculously amusing. Perfetto–” two of his fingers dip down into your labia majora and you see him smile out of the corner of your eye at how slick you are for him. “My perfect girl. Kind. Perhaps too kind and indulgent to this old man but…” his fingertips circle your clit and your hips spasm, “he will show you just how thankful he is nonetheless, sì?”

You whimper as his fingers tease at your entrance before sliding inside you knuckle deep, palm pressed flush against your clit. An echo of how you would touch yourself to the thought of him not that long ago.

“I’m not wearing my gloves but eh, I hope this will suffice for now?”

Your laugh comes out breathy as he begins to fuck into you at a decadent, leisurely pace, pressing open mouthed kisses to your shoulder.

“I never dreamed at my age I’d find someone like you,” he confesses, “Like you were–like we were made for each other. Every morning and every night I thank Sathanas for bringing you to me, thank you for allowing me to worship you. Anima mia, I adore you so much I wish to devour you. To join our bodies and minds and souls together for eternity and further. I told you before that I love you so much I fear driving you off but…I think we are equally matched in our passions, sì?”

You let out a delighted sigh, spreading your legs further to better accommodate him. It’s nice like this - lazy, unhurried - and he smiles as you clench around him.

“Perfectly matched,” you breathe, meeting the languid thrust of his fingers with the tight circling of your hips, “Copia I am yours in every way - yours to use and fuck and–ah–consume as you please. All yours. Always yours–oh fuck.”

The fervor of your words makes his breathing and his fingers quicken, pumping in and out of you with greater force.

“I would have you all night if you let me,” he growls, his breath hot in your ear, “Say you’ll let me, per favore. Please give me this gift. On my fingers, tongue, cock, it doesn’t matter I need you amore, need to watch you come undone and help mend you back together. Please, I–”

He’s crooked his fingers inside you, pressing against that sweet little spot that makes you whine and cant your hips eagerly. You can feel the tears prick the corners of your eyes and you’re breathless as you nod.

“Copia, please, please, please, need you, need all of you–oh, fuck baby that’s it, don’t stop, don’t–ah!”

Your moan is pitchy and borderline desperate as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. 

“Mine,” he growls, “Solo mio come sono tuo. La mia bellissima ragazza perfetta. Il mio cuore e la mia anima. Il mio riflesso. La mia luce e il mio buio. Per sempre. Mia scellerata benedizione, non ti merito. I love you more than anything. Anything.”

Panting, you blindly reach down to still his hand between your legs and he sobs into your shoulder. Gently, you extricate his fingers from you and bring his hand up to your face, tongue darting out to taste yourself. Tears slide down his cheeks as he watches, entranced, as you suck each finger into your mouth before dragging the muscle up the center of his palm. His eyes are wet and bright, pupils blown as you lean up and place a soft kiss to his lips. When you pull apart, you thumb away the tears remaining on his cheeks and smile softly at him.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, sniffling, “I don’t know what got into me, amore, I–”

“This was a lot,” you murmur, reaching up to push the loose strands of hair off his forehead, “but I hope you know how loved you are by me - everything about you, all of it - and that there is no one more beautiful on this planet to me than the man I see before me right now. And I’ll remind you of this again and again and again until the end of days and even further. You are so special to me, Copia. I hope that even for a little bit tonight you got to see yourself through my eyes.”

When he leans forward to place a kiss to your forehead, he’s trembling.

“C’mere,” you say, drawing him into your arms as he drapes his body over you, arm around your waist. The weight of him is solid and comforting as you press kisses to his hair, enveloping yourself in the orange blossom scent of what little remains of his pomade. 

“I promised to ravish you all night,” Copia murmurs, his voice comically muffled by his lips squished against your breast. You snort inelegantly.

“We’ve got many nights ahead of us for that, my love,” you say with a smile, hand stroking along his freckled shoulders, “I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. But more importantly - are you alright?”

He pulls away slightly to rest his chin on you.

“I don’t think I have been for a long time,” he says quietly, “Not really, anyway. But ever since you arrived…columba mia, it’s like I have a purpose again.”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to get watery.

“I know exactly what you mean. Exactly. I…I really need to thank Sister Imperator someday for bringing me here, in the end. I mean yeah she had nefarious intentions but…in a roundabout way she kinda helped save my life.”

“Amore, I don’t mean to sound like some kind of eh, Christian but…Sathanas has a plan for us. And it doesn’t involve any of that child bearing bullshit that was being spewed at you…no. He brought us together for a reason and for that I am thankful every day. Thankful every day you did not run screaming from Imperator’s office the day of your interview. Thankful you saw this…peculiar, awkward, old Cardinal…and saw not only a friend but a-a soulmate. I thank Sathanas but like I said earlier - I thank you more. I would forsake my Unholy Father in a heartbeat for you, amore. You are my true religion now. Know that.”

The noise that comes out of you is wet and embarrassing as you cup Copia’s cheek and rest your forehead against his. After a moment of shared breath, you pull away.

“My love, I’m so sorry to ruin the moment but I desperately need to blow my nose.”

He laughs - one of his weird little “ehehe” numbers - and the sound makes your heart swell in your chest.

“Anything for the woman I love,” he announces grandly, leaning over you to grab the box of tissues on the nightstand and present them to you. You pluck one out and hold it to your face while Copia watches fondly from a very close distance.

“Uh, hon?”

“Mmhmm?”

“You might want to back up a little? I don’t trust the integrity of these things and you do not want to be in the splash zone.”

Copia rolls off you making the most revolted noise as you laugh and struggle to breathe through your congested nose. Sitting up, you blow into the tissue while he watches looking supremely disgusted.

“‘Splash zone’,” he grumbles, shaking his head, “Amore, you are not well.”

“Yeah, I think that’s been established in our year of knowing one another. And, I’m sorry I didn’t realize I was speaking to the pinnacle of mental health over here.”

He pinches the meat of your thigh mid-blow and it makes you choke. In retaliation, you throw one of your crumpled, used tissues at him and it bounces off his chest.

“Augh, it’s wet!”

“Duh, that’s my snot,” you chirp pleasantly. “What you don’t like it? What was all that before about how I’m ‘your beautiful, perfect girl’, and ‘your reflection’, and ‘your heart and soul’ and–”

“...You understood all of that?”

You smile.

“Not all of it, but most. I’ve got a pretty impressive Duolingo streak going from all those nights you have confession duty, you know.”

He props himself up on his side and stares at you with a goofy smile.

“Amore mio, I take back my disgust. You could use me as a tissue and I would say thank you.”

That makes a horrible noise come out of you.

“Copia, I’d call you a simp but I think there would be some pot calling the kettle black action going on there so I’ll refrain. Ugh, what a fucking day.”

You gather up your used tissues with the intent of heading to the bathroom with them but Copia turns to you with his hands cupped expectantly. Gently, you smile before depositing them and watching him get up and pad over to the garbage in the other room. When he comes back after washing his hands and climbs into bed, making his delightful old man noises, you grin.

“Thank you for indulging me tonight,” you murmur as you nestle into his side.

“Indulging you? As if I wasn’t the one getting showered with compliments by a beautiful, nude, young woman?”

“You know what I mean,” you say, trying your best to stifle a yawn. “For hearing me out, for letting me show you how perfect you are to me…all of it. And thank you for the very kind things you said about me in turn. I…will not easily forget that.”

“I certainly hope not but like you, I am prepared to remind you over and over and over of how precious and perfect you are.”

“With fingers, tongue, and cock?” you ask innocently, parroting Copia’s earlier promise. He snorts.

“Dolcezza mia, however you want it.”

“Mmm,” your eyelids are getting heavy as you listen to Copia’s steady breathing, “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I would expect nothing less from such a demanding mistress.”

“Oh you haven’t even seen my demanding mistress side yet, beloved.”

He’s got his eyes closed but makes the dirtiest, most intrigued noise you’ve ever heard and it makes butterflies ricochet around in your stomach. His hand trails teasingly up your arm, causing a shiver to roll through you.

“Well, Padrona,” he murmurs, low and enticing, “I’m not entirely sure I’m ready for bed just yet.”

You’re already sitting up with a sigh and straddling his hips for the second time that evening as you say: “Insatiable as always, Your Eminence. Hmm, do I get to wear your grucifix and biretta? Perhaps I’ll get that pretty red rope out too?”

“Oh amore…I insist.”

[tartppola]

mx tartppola do you read twst fanfics,, and if so do you have any good ace fic recs,,

omg... it shames me to say this but... not as much... bcs these days all i read r google translated fics of crowley & the yuulis fics i commission from my mutuals 😭😭😭 IM SORRY GHGHHGG i will!! also i mostly stick to x reader... rarely do i go for canon/canon fics for twst... but !! i'll still give recomendations! of fics i rlly like ( it's all one shots 😭 )

oomf nepotism + writers i think r rlly cool!

@traumxrei-archive

@stormgardenscurse

@spadecentral

@ceruleancattail

@fluffle-writes

tumblr fics i rlly like ( mixed so some headcanons, some oneshots, all x reader )

otome isekai au villainess reader ( ft ♠️ )

encouragement from beyond ( ft ♠️ 🐺 🍎 🐊 )

blanket hog ( ft ♠️)

rainy day ( ft ♠️)

ace doing your makeup

ace and deuce having the same crush ( ft ♠️ )

firsties slipping to a sleepover that fem reader is in ( ft ♠️ 🐺 🍎 🐊 )

pomefiore!ace

basketball club w s/o who eeps on their chest ( ft 🦈 🐍 )

and there was ONE bed 😳

undisclosed passion

ace patching you up

adeuce walking with you ( ft ♠️ )

heartslabyul jealousy headcanons ( ft 🌹 ♠️ ♦️ ♣️ )

angel ace

adeuyuu hcs ( ft ♠️ )

cuddling with ace

kissing adeuce when they ask ur lipbalm flavor ( ft ♠️ )

how adeuce fantasize abt their crush ( ft ♠️ )

adeuce bday kisses ( ft ♠️ )

adeuce fighting to confess first ( ft ♠️ )

things you do that make adeuce fall harder ( ft ♠️ )

model ace

aceyuu ramble

another aceyuu ramble

lovestruck ace

ring in orange proposal

adeuce period comfort hcs ( ft ♠️ )

ace jealous of others falling for you

hot things ace does

housewarden ace

streamer ace getting a gf

you're what's missing in my life ( ft 🦈 🐍 )

when you know you know

love beyond words ( ft 🐺 🐙 )

shenanigans ( ft ♠️ 😼 )

sweet sleep ( ft ♠️ )

ace with knight reader

traitor ace ( cw yandere )

good luck kiss before match ( ft ♠️ )

tropes to lovers ( ft all nrc boys )

best friend ace

"someone" decides to ask you for your opinion about "their friend" and you decide to tease them. ( ft ♠️ ⚔️ )

cupid is so dumb

soft mornings

devotion of a contrarian

airheaded s/o ( ft 🌹 ♠️ )

another beautiful day ( ft ♠️ 🐺 🍎 🐊 )

"what outfit should i wear for the date?"

oooo you wanna kiss me so bad ( ft ♠️ 🐺 🍎 🐊 )

it's definitely, absolutely, not love

you wish to kiss me? ( ft 🌹 ♠️ ♦️ ♣️, genderbend )

red and blue ( ft ♠️ ) ( cw yandere )

falling too deep too fast ( ft ♦️ 👑 🐊 🐍 ) ( cw yandere?? )

the joker and the queen ( ft ♠️ )

behind the teacher's back

heart-shaped kisses

tell it to my heart

"i'm losing my appetite" ( cw hurt/comfort )

nightfall ace

ace + sun

movie night

haunted house date with ace

you doing ace's makeup

amuse me ( ft ♠️ 🐺 🍎 🐊 )

what made your friends think you're dating him ( ft 🦁 )

high school romance with ace

how he says i love you

he's absolutely smitten with you ( ft 🍩 )

poly with adeuce ( ft ♠️ )

fooling no one

heartshackle relationship analysis ( ft ♠️ 😼 )

stay by my side ( ft ♠️ ) ( cw yandere )

christmas with poly adeuce ( ft ♠️ )

cuddle pile! ( ft ♠️ 🐺 🍎 🐊 )

^sequel to the cuddle pile ( ft ♠️ 🐺 🍎 )

stars by the pocketful ( ft 🌹 ♠️ ♦️ ♣️ )

poly adeuce with affectionate s/o ( ft ♠️ )

waking ace up in the morning

adeuce yan teamup ( ft ♠️ ) ( cw yandere )

sending your crush a survey form ( ft ♠️ 🐺 🍎 🐊 )

can i go where you go? ( ft ♠️ 🐺 🍎 )

come close, i won't bite

unrealized feelings

foxboy ace

your speckled face

reader confesses and immediately runs away embarrassed ( ft ♦️ 🦈 ☀️ )

competition ( ft ♠️ )

come inside of my heart!

longform fics/series

a reverie until recently ( i commed this! poly oysterjuice post nrc au i put it here bcs it's my list!!!!! u dont have to read it )

hearts held out of harm's way ( same author! reccing the tumblr version instead bcs cool logo :D poly adeuyuu )

three people, who share one soul ( fic series, will they won't day adeuyuu )

how to get the boy : a guide by yuu & ace ( first adeuyuu fic i downloaded on my phone aside from my comms and nath's sebek one shots!!! i love it sm even after all this time GRAHHHHH i liked it even during my malleus phase bcs it was so cute! )

[arkhamslvts]

size kinks and jason todd laying you flat on your stomach, your bed faces the mirror and one of his hands keeps your hands pressed flat against your back while the other is pressed against the back of your neck. the position doesn't help considering jason was already huge, it felt like he was bruising every part of you and he knew it "c'mon baby.. take it all" " 's too big sir.. slower" "nuh uh, you like mouthing off so much, you're so big and strong right baby? stay still and fucking take it"

with bruce wayne i feel like it's a little different, it's more subtle. he doesn't mock you the way that jason does, its simply something that's in the air. it's on display whenever he holds you up with one arm firmly wrapped around your neck and the other wrapped around your torso. your back pressed against his chest and he completely dwarfs you, and he knows you like it "that's it... such a pretty girl, taking me so well. fuck, fits like a glove."

[jediavengers]

i need anakin biblically, religiously, in a way that’s concerning to feminism, that’s incredibly socially unacceptable, physically, mentally, emotionally.

[gravehags]

the one who comes (richly endowed)

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: rough sex, cum eating, copia in that goddamn white suit, oral (m receiving, through pants), semi public sex, ghoul voyeurism, masturbation, curator reader being evil

Words: 3,459

Summary: A series of sartorial events.

a/n: i am quite literally always saying how i'm going to suck copia off through those white lululemon leggings so you know. here you go.

~~~

“The eh, Ministry tailor wants to go over some of the tour outfits tomorrow afternoon. Care to join me?”

You yawn wide enough to pop your jaw and snuggle into the side of your lover, fingers raking through his abundant chest hair. He’s got a book propped up on his belly and his reading glasses perched on his long nose as he pauses every few moments to notate something in the margins or underline. 

“Yes please,” you say, leaning forward to place a kiss to each of the entwined 6s tattooed on his freckled pectoral. The action makes him chuckle, eyes briefly leaving the page to flick to you.

“You promise not to get too jealous?” he asks innocently, turning the page, “I mean these are the outfits my adoring fans will be seeing me perform in while you’re stuck here at the abbey. Who knows what kind of mischief I could get up to?”

You snort and sharply pinch his nipple, causing him to let out a ridiculously rat-like squeak.

“You’re not the only one who could get up to mischief,” you coo, “When the Cardinal’s away, the curator will play, hmm? I bet Terzo isn’t busy these days…”

Copia lets out a growl and removes his glasses, tossing them carelessly on the nightstand along with his book.

“What did you say?”

You’re trying so hard to bite back the evil grin that threatens to spread across your face as you lean away from your lover to flop onto your back and stare at the bed canopy above you.

“I think it’s only fair that I be allowed to seek out some ah…diversion in your absence. Particularly when you’re going to have your ‘adoring fans’ crawling all over you. Tell me, which of the Papas is best at eating pus–”

You don’t get to finish the sentence because Copia has rolled on top of you and situated himself between your legs.

“Dolcezza,” he leans in to growl in your ear, making a delightful shiver run up your spine, “Do not toy with me. Do not make me keep you tied to my tour bus bed with your face in the pillow and your ass in the air to use as I please every night, eh?”

You giggle warmly.

“I don’t know, sounds kind of ideal to me,” you purr, “To be so deliciously, divinely stuffed with your cum over and over after every show. What is it the siblings call me? ‘The Cardinal’s mistress’? And what is it the ghouls call me? Ah yes, ‘the Cardinal’s mate.’ Would you mate with me in that tour bus, amore? Loud and feral, for all your ghouls to hear? I think they’d like to wat–ah!”

Flinging back the covers and sitting on his haunches, he grabs you and roughly flips you over. 

“Piccola provocazione mia,” he sighs, rucking your nightgown over your hips and bending your knees, “If you wanted my cock so badly tonight–” he says, and you hear him yank down his sleep pants behind you, “--all you had to do was ask.”

You giggle into the pillow as he drags the head of his cock through your slick folds.

“Much more fun this–ah!--way! Fuck, Copia!”

He’s bottomed out inside you before you can even finish your sentence and places a firm hand between your shoulder blades as he begins to roughly fuck you. You turn your head to the side to get some air and so he can hear every noise that comes out of your mouth.

“You–ah–want it like this? Bent over and spread open for anyone to watch? To listen? Tesoro, we should recruit you for–hngh–sex rituals. Who knew a sweet girl like you liked–ah–an audience?”

The snap of his hips against yours is ruthless and the sound of his balls slapping against you with each thrust drives another moan from your mouth.

“Fuck, Copia, right there! Feel so good baby, l-love it when you u-use me, ah!”

His hand on your back presses you further into the mattress, causing you to arch your back even more sharply. The new angle has starbursts exploding across your vision.

“Sei mio,” he grunts, his grip on your hip bruising, “And until the m-moment I leave for t-tour I’ll–ah–gladly remind you, s-si?”

“Yours, yours, yours,” you chant, pushing back onto his cock to meet his thrusts, “Mmm fuck, Copia, make me yours!”

His fingers abandon your hip to reach around and slide through your folds, moaning at how wet you are. When he brushes against your clit, you let out a sharp whine.

“Copia, please! Don’t stop, don’t stop, oh fuck!”

Your cunt spasms around him and you cry out as he brings you over the edge, his name on your lips. 

“Ragazza brava mia,” he moans, “My perfect girl, so good for me. Cazzo, I’m gonna cum, amore. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

When he pulls out of you, you whine at the loss but crane your head as far back as you can to watch him feverishly stroke his cock.

“Come on baby,” you pant even though your neck is killing you. “Cum on me. Mark me up.”

The sight of his fist rocketing along his reddened cock, slick with your juices has you grinding into the mattress, desperate for another release. When he cums with a shout, covering your lower back in spurts of his seed your body sags into the bed. You can hear his rapid breaths as he wrings out every last drop onto you and finally lets go to survey his handiwork. He drags his forefinger through the mess and you turn your head, opening your mouth obediently. When the warm digit meets your tongue, the salt of him on your tastebuds, you close your mouth around it and suck eagerly.

“What a deviant I have made of a sweet little virgin,” he marvels and you slide off his finger to swallow with a smile.

“Think I was a deviant even when I was a virgin,” you murmur, “You just encouraged it. But some of the fantasies I had…”

“Oh?”

“Get me a rag to clean this up then I’ll tell you all about them, my love.”

He does as he’s told, wiping up his seed and rejoining you in bed so you can assume your earlier positions. You make a bet with yourself about how many times the two of you are going to hunger for one another that night.

As always, both of you exceed your expectations.

–

“What do you think about this? Amore?”

“Hmm?” you look up from the binderful of sketches you’ve been browsing while your beloved and the tailor conversed in rapid Italian, “Think about what?”

Copia stands on a round platform surrounded by mirrors. The tailor leans up against the door and gestures to the Cardinal.

“It’s a good suit, no?”

You smile. Of course it’s a good suit. It’s the suit Copia was wearing the night of your first date. The night where the two of you grinded on each other and made an absolute mess of those trousers. Those lovely, snug trousers and the curve of–

“Amore?” Copia asks, and you see his mustache twitch in amusement.

“It’s great! I love it, did you um…change the material of the pants? From the original suit I mean.”

“Si, si,” the tailor nods, “the Cardinal requires pants with more stretch to allow for vigorous movement on stage.”

Mmm vigorous movement.

“So he’ll be wearing either of his cassocks and uh…this black suit?”

Once again the tailor nods.

“I also have made prototypes in two other colors. Would you like to see those?”

He’s asking Copia too but you interject to answer for him.

“Yes, please.”

“They’re in garment bags in the dressing room, Cardinal.”

The Cardinal gives the tailor a tight smile before turning to you and giving you a look. You smile and shrug. Better him than you, and the way he fucked you last night, you almost collapsed on the floor this morning when you got out of bed while he chuckled, the bastard. He deserves a little torture. A few more minutes pass and he comes out and does a little pose. He looks resplendent in a cardinal red version of the suit and you know you’re grinning like an idiot when he steps onto the platform, preening.

“Oh the red is good, signore,” you tell the tailor, who smiles pleasantly at you. “I think I like it even better than the black. What do you think, my love?”

Copia’s preoccupied with making stupid little muscle man poses in the mirror and you have to stuff your fist in your mouth to muffle your guffaw.

“Huh-wha…what was that, amore?”

“I said, how do you feel about the red?”

“Oh eh, si. Very nice. Vibrant. Is that all?”

“There is one more suit in the dressing room, Cardinale,” the tailor gently reminds him and Copia turns to give you a deep bow before retreating to his cubicle. You hear him disrobe and hang up the red suit followed by unzipping the last garment bag. There’s a shuffle of fabric and Copia makes an odd sound.

“I…I, eh don’t think I’ll come out for this one.”

You look to the tailor nonplussed, who looks to you, equally perplexed.

“Isn’t it just the same suit in a different color, hon?”

“Si, it’s just that it’s eh…” he makes one of his noises, “It’s…ah fuck it.”

When he opens the door and peeks his head out you smile encouragingly. That smile slowly drops as he slides out of the dressing room to stand on the platform, replaced with something more awestruck and hungry. True to the tailor’s word, it is the same suit, however this one is in snow white. He looks incredibly elegant but that’s not what occupies your mind - what occupies your mind is the hefty and defined curve of his cock and balls in those sinfully tight white pants.

“Well, what do you think?”

You let out a lewd gurgle and now it’s the tailor’s turn to muffle his laughter.

“Exactly. I don’t think I’ll be going with this one, signore.”

The string of filth going through your mind is interrupted by his words.

“What?! No!” you splutter, flapping your hands. “No, this one absolutely stays.” 

“Amore,” Copia stage whispers, “You can see my whole dick.”

“Yeah, and balls,” you loudly whisper back, “Which is exactly why you’re keeping it.”

“Sarto, will you eh, excuse me and the signorina for a moment per favore?”

The tailor silently nods with an amused expression and steps out of the room, snapping the door shut behind him.

“Dolcezza, I am supposed to be on stage in this outfit. I’m supposed to sing while wearing this. You want me to look like a…a Chippendale at these rituals?”

You cough to hide your laughter.

“Beloved, may I be frank with you?”

“Please.”

“People come to these rituals to be tempted, right? To dip their toe into what the Ministry has to offer? Copia I am being so honest with you right now when I say that this–” you gesture to what’s on display at the juncture of his thighs, “--in combination with the music? Baby, you’ll be beating new recruits off with a stick. Might as well have a sign-up booth outside the venue. If I were some wide-eyed, easily influenced young person and I walked into one of your rituals to hear you sing about being the one who comes richly endowed and coming into the daughters of men and whatnot? My love, I would swear myself to Satan for one corn chip if you asked.”

Copia nods slowly, considering.

“You…have a point, dolcezza. Kind of makes me wish I hadn’t met you until I became head of the Ghost project so I could see you front row at a ritual…oh the things I would do to you.”

“And you still can,” you murmur, setting the sketch binder aside, “Keep this outfit and I promise you I’ll visit you backstage at one of your shows. I’ll surprise you.”

“Done,” he says, slapping his thigh. A soft knock sounds through the room and the tailor opens the door.

“Everything good?” he asks, eyes flicking between the two of you.

“Molto bene, signore,” you say, “He’s keeping the outfit.”

“Ah, good, good,” the tailor smiles, clapping his hands together, “I was hoping you’d say that because I have a couple accessories for this one.”

You look to Copia, intrigued. The tailor produces a hat box and removes the lid, handing Copia a very dashing black fedora with a white band. The Cardinal places it on his head, looking devastatingly handsome as he poses in the many mirrors. The tailor disappears for a moment and then reappears to hand Copia a black cane with a silver snake handle.

“What do you think, signorina?” the tailor asks, hands behind his back. Copia turns to you and with an evil grin, slides the length of the cane along his cock then rocks his hips against it. Your jaw loosens and your eyes glaze over.

“Amore, the tailor asked you a question?”

“Hard. I mean good! Good! It’s all very good, thank you for indulging me, signore. Beautiful work but I expected nothing less from the man that makes his cassocks. You know, the way the fascia cinches him in and the fabric falls over his as–assets. Uh…”

The tailor coughs, hiding a smile with his fist.

“Grazie, signorina. And grazie, Cardinale. I’ll work on making duplicates of these designs at once.”

Copia nods and steps off the platform to return to the dressing room. A beat passes when you get up and scuttle over to the tailor.

“Is there any way you can make the pants um. Tighter?”

“I heard that.”

—

His veins are on fire, thrumming as he makes his walk off the stage post-encore. The crowd loves him. They love him. The little rat bastard Cardinal makes the beautiful young creatures of the crowd scream and profess their adoration. He’s feeling elated, high as he passes by two roadies and works his way backstage when he hears a low whistle come from a corner near some tour crates. When he looks he double takes because surely he must be dreaming. Surely his eyes must be playing tricks on him as he sees his amore slowly emerge from behind a box wearing that little half-smile you sport when getting up to mischief. Before he even realizes he’s doing it he’s running over to you - damn his sore muscles in need of a long shower - and into your open arms.

“Surprised?” you ask as you throw your arms around his neck. 

Immediately he buries his nose into your loose hair and a shudder rips through him as he’s enveloped in your scent. His hands roam your back, sliding down further to cup your ass and pull you into him.

“Mmm insatiable as always,” you mutter into his shoulder, pulling away just enough to look him in the eyes. The adrenaline of the evening matched with the way you’re gazing at him makes his cock stir. Your lips twitch upwards and eyebrow arches.

“Amore,” he growls, grinding against your belly, “Come to my dressing room so we can–”

“What’s wrong with right here?” you ask innocently, gesturing to the empty nook stacked with gear boxes. “I came such a long way for you, I simply can’t waste another moment.”

When you begin to lower yourself to your knees, his head tips back in a groan. Cazzo, he missed this. When he reopens his eyes he spots something in the darkness further behind you - a slender form in black and a flash of a silver mask.

Dewdrop.

He should tell you, should grab you by the shoulders and scurry away with you somewhere more private but he thinks about that day months ago when you said you wanted to be watched. Copia’s head jerks in a nod in the ghoul’s direction and he sees his mouth fall open in a pant. You’re massaging the meat of his thighs in your perfect little hands when he looks down at you.

“You’re distracted,” you murmur, blinking up at him, “Guess you haven’t missed me much after all.”

“Dolcezza, no!” Copia breathes, gloved hand stroking your hair, “Come up here and I’ll show you exactly how much I missed you.”

“No, no,” you say airily, and for a horrible moment he thinks he’s seriously hurt your feelings but then you look up and give him a sinister little grin that makes him throb.

“Did they like it?” you ask, trailing your fingertips over his clothed cock.

“L-Like it?”

“The white suit,” you say patiently, dragging your fingernails down his thigh. “How did they look up at you tonight, my love? Were they hungry for you?” 

You lean in to place a chaste kiss to his bulge that almost makes his knees give out.

“Will they go home tonight and fuck themselves to the thought of you?”

When you drag the flat of your tongue across his balls and up his cock he whimpers pathetically.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Hmmm,” you ponder, thumb rubbing the head of him through his pants. There’s a sizable wet stain on them now from where he’s been leaking pre, “I was out there, you know. Watching. Saw the way you thrusted and fell to your knees and grinded on that cane. Saw the way they all panted for you. And you know what I was thinking the whole time, my love?”

He’s breathing heavy through his nose.

“No, a-amore.”

“I was thinking about how much I wanted to do this.”

You lean in and wetly latch onto his balls through the thin fabric and his hand flies to the back of your head. You’re giggling around him and the vibrations make him whimper.

“Fuck, amata mia, yes,” he groans, rocking his hips into your touch. Slowly you drag your tongue along his shaft and even through the material he knows you’re tracing the thick vein. When Copia tilts his head back in a moan, his half-lidded eyes fall on the ghoul in the shadows. Dew is still mostly obscured but even the darkness can’t hide the way his strong hand is sliding along the ridges of his hardened cock. His head is tilted downwards towards you - drinking in the way you look with your thighs splayed in that pretty sundress, your mouth suckling on the head of his Cardinal’s cock. Copia knows he won’t last much longer - not with how worked up he already was from the ritual and with their audience - and he looks down at you adoringly.

“Close, tesoro. Gonna–ah–gonna make me cum in my pants?”

Your lips pull off him for only a moment to give him a wide smile.

“Just like New Year’s Eve. Remember?” You place a hand on his bulge and begin stroking it. “The champagne burning in our veins? The way the curve of your cock felt nudging my clit through those red lace panties you like? How your fingers gripped me hard enough to bruise?”

“Si, si, I remember, I remember, amore,”

“You told me to make a mess of myself. I should have put those panties in your pocket but we already know how you like to steal them yourself, hmm?”

Copia makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a whine as his cheeks are flooded with red and his hips buck into your touch.

“Dirty old man,” you say with a grin, “Can’t help yourself can you, Cardinal? On stage, in my bed, right now under my hand and mouth–”

He feels the pressure building in his spine as you rub him frantically through his pants.

“--while your ghoul watches us.”

The moan that comes out of him is loud and long, hips rutting against your hand as he cums in ropes and soaks the white fabric. You’re cooing praise at him from your spot on the floor as he takes shuddering breaths. When he looks up, Dewdrop is gone but there’s no mistaking what’s spattered on the floor where he stood. Did you plan this? How could he have known? How could you have known? How–

“Hey,” you say, placing a little kiss to the wet stain on his crotch, “Help me up?”

With a start he bends over and lifts you gently by the elbows until you’re standing and stretching. Overcome with adoration, he grabs you by the back of the head and slots his lips against yours. His ragazza bella. His mistress. His perfect mate.

“So,” you say once you finally manage to pull away from him, “Show me that dressing room?”

[arkhamslvts]

need to ride childhood friend Jason Todd so bad it’s actually insane like. Like. Making him promise to keep his hands off while he’s balls deep in you and he’s fighting every bone in his body to not just break the promise and bounce you on his cock bc he really needs more than what you’re teasing him for ARGHHHHHH

RAHHHHH

and he's probably so desperate because he remembers all the times he jerked off to you even when you reunited. mutters of "fuck.. please don't tease" and "you feel so good, so tight" to play it safe he'd probably try to keep his hands behind his back but as soon as you wrap your arms around him to kiss him while he's still filling you to the brim his arms wrap around your waist, lifting you up slightly as he pistons his hips up into you, you try to mutter something about him breaking the rules but he's moaning out little apologies and pressing kisses to your neck. "fuck.. sorry.. 'm sorry just let me... fuck"

[jediavengers]

hayden pls bring the mullet back ilysm babe xx

[gravehags]

let the devil in

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: OH THEY FUCKIN, PinV, loss of virginity, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, improper timing of satanic prayer, lots of ooey gooey feelings, secondo being a real one, stelline the rat makes a brief return, sister imperator being unsettling as shit

Words: 6,803

Summary: You have just about had enough of dancing around one another. It's now or never.

a/n: bro writing this had me shaking THIS IS IT, THE BIG ONE god i hope it lives up to my hype

The remainder of your time off passes without incident - for better and for worse. 

Copia has been lovely - a perfect gentleman - but as much as you appreciate his sweet words and his kind heart, you’re left wondering why he hasn’t made any…advances towards you. When your kisses turn heated he shies away and you don’t pursue the issue, wondering if you’re just coming on too strong. Wondering if he regrets the evening you spent together on New Years Eve. You try not to let it get to you but every night you lie awake, staring up at the ceiling worried that he has regrets. Part of you - the part that sees the sincerity in his eyes when he dotes on you, the logical part - tells you that he’s just being cautious. The other part of you…well. That little parasite is constantly in your ear telling you he’s just being kind - too kind to rip the bandaid off and break it off with you. Back and forth these two sides play tug of war and you’re the one left to suffer in silence. And it’s not just your mind that suffers but your body. Your body aches for him, your fingers frantically pressing against your clit in a poor imitation of the curve of his cock. You crave his touch and are filled with sadness as you watch the bruises his fingers left on your thighs yellow and fade. You want to bring your concerns up to him but the fear that the awful little parasite in you has been right all along keeps your mouth shut. So you let him court you - bring you more flowers (dark red peonies this time, you dried the roses he gave you the moment they began to wilt and now the bundle hangs from your bedroom mirror), hold your hand on your daily walks, eat by your side - and hope that through sheer force of will he seeks out your embrace once more. You’re almost relieved when you start back at work again, able to keep your hands and mind busy with something other than your unsettling thoughts and anxiety-fraught fledgling relationship.

–

Copia feels as if he’s going mad.

Not from you, never from you but…his desire for you. The way his body and his mind relive the feel of your cunt pressed up against him, the heat and wet pushing against his clothed cock. He clenches his fist and shifts in his office chair, the wood creaking beneath him. He’s trying his best - his very best - to be good and sweet and docile for you. To treat you like he wants to, like he knows you deserve. But his want for you is all-consuming, dogging him day and night, in your presence and without it. He wants your body - wants to corrupt your body - true, but more than that he wants…you. Hungers for your soul, your love. Wants to crawl inside your veins and make a home in your heart. He’s told you he loves you, true, but would the extent of it scare you off? He’s torn by wanting to confess the darkest parts of his passion to you and keeping you at a safe distance, like a porcelain doll on a shelf. New Year's Eve left him reeling, dizzy even as he slept beside you that night and you curled into him. You’re so good to him - far better than he deserves - and he can feel the lust radiating off of you whenever your kisses become heated. The devil whispers for him to let go, let you untether that beast inside him that he tries so hard to muzzle. The chain that holds him back weakens day by day, every moment you give him that look from across the couch or the dinner table he’s closer to ruin.

Which leads him to today. 

You’ve popped by his office on your lunch break, standing by the windows and holding his hands in yours. 

“Come over to my place tonight?”

He’s about to answer when there’s a knock on the door and it swings open. When he sees Secondo standing there he drops your hands as if burned and takes a step away from you.

“Mi scusi, I’ve interrupted something,” Secondo turns to leave but Copia calls out.

“No, no. Eh, nothing interrupted. She was just leaving - weren’t you, signorina?”

He immediately regrets his choice of words when he sees you jolt as if slapped at the cold tone of his voice and the return of your old title. Secondo’s sharp gaze flicks back and forth between you and him but he remains silent.

“Y-yeah. Okay. Sorry, Secondo. Goodbye, Cardinal.”

Ouch. He deserves that. As does he deserve the way you leave and shut the door behind you without a second glance back to him. Anxiety sinks heavy in his stomach as he lowers himself to slump on the end of his desk. He nearly forgets his fratello is there when the imposing papa clears his throat.

“Che cazzo, stronzo?” he barks, making Copia wince and fold in on himself. He’s not sure if it’s wiser to play dumb or fess up to his feelings but judging by the steely look in Secondo’s eye, he’ll take nothing less but the truth.

“It’s…a long story.”

“No it isn’t,” Secondo snarls, stalking over to him and jabbing him in the chest with a long finger. “You’re being chicken shit, aren’t you?”

Leave it to Secondo to suss out the reality of the situation in a heartbeat. Copia shifts himself out of poking distance and rounds the desk to collapse in his chair.

“I…eh…sì.”

Secondo crosses his arms and stares down at him imperiously.

Copia reaches up and rubs the bridge of his nose, unsure of how much detail to give him. Judging from the look on Secondo’s face, he wants to hear all of it.

“So we…got together. The night of the Yule gathering. I walked her back to her rooms and we… eh…made out along the way. We got to her place and she invited me in and I…I wanted to treat her as she deserves, sì? Flowers, dates, chocolates, the whole shebang. So I told her that. Then she–”

His voice cracks and he clears his throat, the mere memory of the incident enough to rile him up.

“She tells me she’s a virgin. A virgin, Secondo. Sathanas, I nearly grabbed her and had her in the damn hallway.”

Secondo makes a noise, his eyebrows rocketing up. He’s clearly not unmoved by this information either.

“So after that I…I try my best - my fucking best - to keep my composure. And maledetto inferno she did not make it easy, the little minx. And then I asked her out on a date. Our first. We went to Lucia’s on New Year’s Eve - came back, opened a bottle of champagne and well. Things escalated.”

“Did you…?”

“No,” Copia says hastily, “I mean…we didn’t do nothing but she remains ah…intact. Since then I-I don’t know what to do. The way she looks at me, the way she kisses me, touches me…”

“Fratello,” Secondo says, leaning against the wall and crossing his legs at the ankle, “forgive me but I’m not seeing the problem with a beautiful, young virgin desiring you.”

“No, no, no, that’s not it,” Copia says, “it’s not what she wants that scares me…it’s what I want. Secondo, I love her more than anything, desire her more than anything but…I’m afraid if she sees the extent of my passion, my obsession with her I’ll…I’ll drive her away. Like everyone else, sì? So I restrain myself at every turn.”

Secondo nods, quiet for a moment before speaking carefully.

“Copia, have you considered telling her any of this? That perhaps maybe sharing your fears with her - someone who loves you very deeply in return - will help alleviate your angst? Not to mention you’re probably driving the poor girl mad with lust, vecchio cane.”

Copia snorts and Secondo smiles.

“You two were so blind for so long, unwilling to see the feelings you had for one another when to everyone else it was obvious. She was made for you, and you for her. I’ve seen you chase after a few people over the years, fratello, and you looked at none of them the way you look at her. So tell her. Show her, for fuck’s sake. You know full well how many in this abbey would kill to be in your position, huh? Terzo, for one, which is why this stays between us, sì? You need to make your move before he catches wind of her…condition.”

Copia nods vigorously, heaving a deep sigh and tipping his head against the back of his chair.

“Grazie, Secondo. For listening, as you always have.”

Secondo nods solemnly before pushing himself off the wall and making to leave.

“W-why did you come in originally?” Copia asks.

Secondo shrugs and winks his white eye.

“Brotherly intuition. Ciao, Copia.”

With a little wave the papa is gone and Copia sighs.

He’d come see you tonight. It was now or never.

–

You make sure to stay out of Copia’s way the remainder of the day, more confused than angry. When he’s with you he’s hot and cold - professing his love but ultimately shying away from your touch - and when you’re around others, well. With Terzo he’s possessive, with Secondo he’s jumpy. What is going on in that head of his? Well. Doesn’t matter. You’ve already made your mind up to go to him tonight and sort things out. He’s got confession duty until eight which gives you plenty of time to…prepare. A shiver runs through your body at the implication that if you play your cards right, tonight could be the night. Perhaps…you look at the small bundle of keys on the lanyard around your neck, sorting through them to find a specific one. He gave you the key to his rooms last week. Perhaps he would be more ah…pliant…to your desires were you to simply be…waiting for him. You giggle, actually giggle aloud, in your empty office. He’s not going to know what hit him.

You’re distracted the rest of the day, head filled with plans and scenarios, and you move through your tasks mechanically. When Sister Imperator drops by to give you a heads up about another painting she bought at auction she gives you a curious look. She’s been kind of weird around you since after the break - looking at you shiftily during meetings - and you’d be unsettled by it were your head not already filled with other things. When she turns to leave your office, she casually tosses “why don’t you take the rest of the day, hmm?” over her shoulder. You sputter, baffled as to how she seemed to know, and she turns around to give you a tight smirk before leaving with her red stilettos tapping on the marble. You’re holding your breath watching her retreat down the hall and you look at your watch.

3:21 PM

You’ve got hours but there’s a lot you have to cram in before then. First to head to the dining hall and wolf down a meal, then to Primo for a restock of your…meds, then to your quarters to shower and figure out what you’re going to wear. 

Better get going.

By the time you finish your tasks and return to your quarters, it’s 5:36 PM. You were waylaid by a group of siblings after you left Primo’s greenhouse who politely asked you to help them take pictures for the Ministry’s social media account. Dropping your keys and phone on the side table, you strip and leave a trail of clothes on the way to the bathroom. Your shower is swift but you still make sure to use your best smelling products. You go through your skincare routine and step out to look at the clock next to your bed.

6:17 PM

Shit. You feel like you're pushing it and you’re glad you ultimately decided not to wash your hair tonight. Padding out into your bedroom, you open your drawers and rifle through them. You wanted something that gave the impression you were…his for the taking. Something soft and well…virginal. When you pull a knee length cream colored silk nightgown out of your pajama drawer you make a loud noise of appreciation. A little wrinkled, maybe, but you doubt he would care. Tossing your towel on your bed you pull the slip over your head, shivering at the touch of the cool material. Your eyes travel to the top of your dresser and you spot your perfume - the one you know he loves - and give yourself a few spritzes before touching his gold grucifix on your collarbone. That should do it. But now you have to get from your quarters to his and somehow you think doing so in a thin nightgown isn’t the wisest decision so you grab your robe and wrap it snugly around you. Stepping into your slippers you walk out of your room and grab your phone and key, taking a deep breath.

It’s now or never.

The journey up the two floors to Copia’s quarters passes without incident, unless you count the siblings who saw your attire and gave you funny looks. Your hands are shaking - actually shaking - as you reach his door and unlock it, stepping inside. It’s dark.

“Shit,” you hiss, fumbling for the switch. When you manage to locate it and flip it on, the room is bathed in a soft yellow glow. His quarters are nice - not that yours are a dump, by any means - but the level of decorative detail has you inspecting every corner of his living space. Looking around you remove your robe and set it on a chair by the door. When you hear a few squeaks you shuffle over to the large rat cage in the corner, cooing at the little faces peering up at you. Stelline stands on her hind legs, nose snuffling in your direction.

“Hello, little loves,” you murmur, “I’ve got to be nosy for a second so you stay put, okay?”

When Stelline lets out a particularly loud squeak it makes you laugh so loud you clap your hand to your mouth. Before any more objections can be made you head to the other side of the room, past the wall of leaded glass windows, and through a doorway on the left. A small kitchen. Cute. Which means the other doorway leads…your heart thuds as you approach the darkened alcove and turn on yet another light switch. 

Copia’s bedroom.

It feels forbidden to be in this space and you step in cautiously, expecting at any moment to get busted for breaking and entering. It’s a decent size room - bigger than yours - with dark wood paneling and tapestries on the walls. There’s an empty fireplace on the left and a large dresser, as well as a high backed chair. There’s a doorway which undoubtedly leads to his bathroom and…there it is. A large four-poster bed with dark red hangings and matching covers. You swallow thickly, stepping over to it. This could be it, you think, running your hands over the duvet. This could be the place where y—wait, what’s that?

There’s a scrap of black peeking out from under his pillow and curious, you reach for it. When you pull the item out, your jaw drops.

Those. Those are yours. Your…

“That little pervert!” you crow, veins flooded with warmth at the thought of what he did with your underwear. Your dirty underwear. Filthy man…filthy delicious man. Well who are you to deprive him of his simple pleasures, you think as you stuff the garment back under the pillow. Should everything go right tonight you’ll tease him about it…afterwards. Shaking your head you look down at your phone.

7:21 PM

Still got about forty minutes to kill, assuming confession doesn’t go over. Suddenly you’re kicking yourself for rushing all day and walk over to the chair to plop down. Hopefully a little time on your phone will pass the minutes.

You’re on your…how many games of solitaire was this?...when you hear the distinct sound of a key in a lock. You can feel the blood drain from your face as you set your phone aside and grip the arms of the chair. When he enters and shuts the door behind him, making his weird little noises, you can’t help but smile. 

“Buonasera, i miei bambini!”

You can hear him scoot over to his rats, sighing deeply. He talks to them for a few moments before his footfalls begin to approach where you are. He’s got his biretta in hand as he spots you and stands frozen in the doorway, mouth agape.

“Hey,” you say, slowly rising out of the chair.

It takes him a moment to speak, too distracted by your outfit.

“Cara…” he breathes, setting his biretta down on his dresser, “I-I was going to come to you tonight.”

“Hmm, well,” you shrug, “beat you to it.”

There’s a ringing silence between the two of you, your heart thundering against your ribs. You take a step towards him.

“Copia, you don’t have to hold back. You don’t have to…have to hide from me. I love you. You know that.”

“Sì,” he whispers, “but do you know how much I love you? How I would do anything for you - to you - if you let me? Dolcezza I–”

“So what if I let you?” you ask, taking another step towards him. “What if I want you to? What if I’ve always wanted you to? What if you’re the only one I’ve ever–” you take two more steps towards him until you’re a breath apart, “--wanted to?”

He exhales shakily, breath stirring the hairs around your face.

“I’m giving you permission, Copia,” you breathe, “I want you to take, and take, and take from me until I have nothing left to give. I’m yours, my love. I’m–”

You don’t finish your declaration - don’t get a chance. Copia lunges at you like an animal, wrapping his arms around you drawing you snug against his chest with his lips pressed against yours. He’s never kissed you like this before - like a starving man - lips and teeth and tongue mingling with yours and peppered with groans and growls. He’s holding you so tight he squeezes the breath from your lungs as he nips at your throat, ravenous.

“Mine,” he growls, “amata mia. I’m going to make you sing, bellezza.”

When he licks along your carotid you gasp, and gently push at him.

“Let me undress you,” you breathe as you pant, “please Copia I want to see you.”

Copia pauses and pulls away to rest his forehead against yours before nodding. When he takes a step away from you, you mourn the warmth of his body.

“Go on, amore mio,” he murmurs.

“I-I don’t know where to start,” you confess with a smile. He offers his hands out to you.

“Here.”

This act alone is far more intimate than anything the two of you have done before. You know how he is about his hands and when you reach for them your own shake. Your fingers slide up the palm and wrist, taking the zipper and pulling. Gently, you ease each finger out of its sheath and pull the leather away. His hand is…beautiful. Large, freckled - like the rest of him - with a dusting of fine brown hair and–

“What happened?” you ask quietly, index finger tentatively brushing against the scar tissue in the center. “Copia is that–”

“Sì,” he answers simply and you reach for his other hand to repeat the process. You want to know, want to ask why but stay silent and save your curiosity for another time. Once the other one is bare you take them both in your hands and look at him.

“Beautiful,” you say softly, keeping your eyes on his as you raise each palm to your lips and place a firm, lingering kiss at the center. Some of the raw hunger leaves his eyes - replaced with utter adoration.

“What’s next?”

“This,” he points to his grucifix. It takes you a minute of peering at his pellegrina before you see where the bejeweled accessory is hooked. Delicately you detach it and set it on the dresser.

“Next?”

“My fascia,” Copia whispers, gesturing to his belt. When you loosen it from his waist, the long red material sliding through your hands, he watches you intently. You fold the garment up neatly and set it aside.

“Cassock?” you ask.

He nods, guiding your fingers to his neck. Each button feels like an eternity and by the time you reach his waist he can sense your quiet frustration.

“We can cheat with this one,” he murmurs, grabbing the sides and inching them up his body before pulling the garment over his head. When the red wool falls in a pile on the floor, you regard it fondly.

“I don’t know if I can wait any longer, amore,” he says, standing before you in his clerical shirt, suspenders, and trousers.

“One last thing, please,” you say before darting away and into the bathroom. You rummage around in the linen closet for a moment before pulling out a rag and turning on the sink. When you return to him with the soaked cloth he looks perplexed until you raise it to his face.

“If I’m going to see you naked,” you say, gently wiping away the paint on his right eye, “I want all of you naked.”

He chuckles, hands behind his back as you remove every bit of the Cardinal you can find. When you finish, he takes the rag from you and tosses it to the floor.

“On the bed, amata,” there’s a darkness, a self-assuredness in his tone that would feel almost foreign to you if you hadn’t heard it first on New Year’s Eve. It makes a shiver run down your spine as you step over to his bed. He follows, toeing off his shoes and reaching down to remove his socks, mismatched eyes watching you like a hawk as you clamber onto the red duvet. He pauses at the foot of the bed and slides his suspenders off his shoulders so they hang by his sides before unbuttoning the first few buttons of his clerical shirt to expose a pale sternum covered in more fine brown hair. You blink up at him before taking a deep breath, sitting up on your knees, and pulling the nightgown over your head. The garment falls to the rug in a whisper and there you are. Bare. Your heart is in your throat as you lean backwards against the pillows, presenting yourself to him.

Copia doesn’t look hungry anymore. 

He looks feral.

When he presses his knee on the bed and slowly begins to crawl towards you, your breathing comes in pants. He urges your legs apart, spreading you open for him and eyeing the thatch of curls at the juncture of your thighs before situating himself between your knees.

“Dolcezza,” he growls, bare hands ghosting over your hips without actually touching you, “will you join me in prayer?” 

Your mouth falls open.

“N-now?” His eyes fall to the heaving of your breasts as you continue to take ragged breaths. The drag of his gaze along every dip and swell of your body makes your face heat up.

“Sì, amore mio. For when else am I to give thanks to Sathanas for this most blessed gift? What better place than right–” he touches your knees, making you jump, “--here?” His hands slide up your thighs as he shuffles forward to loom over you, breath dancing with yours. Mismatched eyes bore into yours, the corner of his lips curled slightly in a wicked smile.

You nod.

“Unholy Father,” he begins before leaning down to slot his lips against yours. The kiss is unhurried, decadent even, and when his tongue slides hotly along yours you whimper into his mouth. The chuckle that reverberates into you has your body arching into his, eager for his touch. You think he’s about to do just that when he pulls away, a lewd string of saliva connecting the two of you. 

“Today I give thanks for this–” he inhales deep through his nose “--glorious favor you have bestowed upon me, a most faithful son.”

He lowers himself towards you once more, to press open-mouthed kisses along your throat. With some hesitancy, you bring your hand up to his head and drag your fingers through his hair, causing him to groan. His tongue traces a path across your clavicle - briefly pausing to kiss the gold grucifix that rests there - and continues down your sternum. 

“For what greater honor–” he pauses to suck at the swell of your breast, “--can you provide than an eager–” his lips drag torturously close to where you need him, “--willing–” his tongue darts out to graze the taut bud, “sweet–” he hovers over your nipple, eyes trained up on yours, and his hot breath makes you shiver, “--virgin.” When he finally, finally lowers his lips to slip the hardened bud into his mouth you let out a keening moan. He sucks hungrily, teeth teasing at it and tongue soothing the catch of bone on flesh. 

“Copia, fuck,” you breathe, fingers buried in his hair to cradle him against you, “mmm just like that. Just like that, love.”

He rewards the endearment by bringing his hand up to your other breast and cupping the soft flesh in his large palm. When his thumb brushes over your nipple your hips buck again, and you can feel him smile against your skin. He wetly pulls off of you and you let out an undignified whimper at the loss.

“I have her heart,” he says, and you’re wildly confused for a moment before it dawns on you that he’s not done praying. The realization makes your head fall back against his pillows, your tongue sliding out to wet your lips. He’s abandoned your breasts now and has slid further down, hands on your waist. 

“I have her mind,” he places a soft kiss to the curve of your belly once - and again - before sliding down even further.

“Her soul–” he kisses the underside of your stomach once more, his mustache tickling you, “--I’m working on—“ 

When he glances up at you with a grin you smile back, deliriously enchanted, “--and her body…” 

His breath stirs the curls between your legs and your heart pounds. “...Is now mine.” The low, almost sinister tone of his voice makes you gasp, knowing full well what comes next. 

“Nema.”

“N-nema.”

He bows his head in reverence and taking his thumbs, spreads you open and drags his tongue through your slick folds. The sensation sends a shockwave through you, your back arching off the mattress as you squirm.

“Copia!”

His hands fly to your hips, gripping and kneading the flesh as he continues to work his tongue against you. He’s content to lap at your entrance for a couple of minutes before dragging the muscle upwards slightly and–oh. When he curves the flat of his tongue along your swollen clit he really has to hold you down. Your fingers cling to the silvered brown strands on his head, holding him against you and through your lowered lids you can see his hips minutely grinding against the mattress. You’re laughing, high and breathy, as he flicks the tip of his tongue against you, better than your fingers or any vibrator. When he moans into your cunt, fingers digging into your flesh you gasp.

“Fuck, my love, right there. Don’t stop, don’t stop, Copia please.”

He grins against you, mouth returning to gather the slick at your entrance and the tip of his long, large nose grinding against your clit. The sensation is overwhelming as your body thrashes and, you think deliriously, he’s definitely going to leave marks with how firmly he’s holding you. When he pulls away from you - no doubt to catch his breath - he leans up on his elbows a little and gives you a wolfish grin. 

“Dolcezza, what a sacrifice you make. Ave Sathanas.”

You laugh, grinning down at him as he returns to his task. When he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, again and again, you know it’s over. You’re babbling nonsense, sweet little words of praise at your lover, as you feel that familiar wave begin to crest inside you.

“Copia, oh fuck Copia I’m so close honey.”

He hums around you, hips continuing to rut into the duvet as he devours you. When you no longer have the ability to form words, you moan, higher and higher as you grip his hair and the covers. He pulls away slightly, making you cry out in desperation but when he returns he gently nudges the tip of his finger inside you. It’s not enough to make any real impact but the knowledge that he’s simply toying with you as you thrash below him has you letting out breathy, hysterical laughter.

“So good for your Cardinal,” he pants, and when you meet his gaze you can feel yourself clenching around his finger. “So tight for me and I haven’t even filled you yet. Tell me - did you use your own fingers while thinking of me?”

“Copia pl–”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chastises, licking his lips. “I won’t give you what you want until you answer me, amore mio.”

You’ve only seen glimpses of this side of him before - hints at what lurked below the surface but now that you’re being fully exposed to this Copia - self-assured and smug in his power - your hunger for him increases tenfold.

“Yes, I-I did.”

“How many?”

He asks the question with all the casualness of asking for the price of apples at the farmer’s market.

“D-depends. Sometimes two. Sometimes thre–ah!”

He doesn’t even let you finish before he’s easing a second finger into you, stretching you open.

“My fingers are much bigger than yours, amore,” he says as he begins to slide himself in knuckle deep. “We’ll start with two today to eh, warm you up, sì? Would you like that?”

He’s right - his fingers are a lot bigger than yours and when he pauses to gently crook them inside you your jaw falls open in a desperate moan.

“Y-yes. Yes! Fuck, Copia just like that. Please, my love, please.”

“You beg so prettily for me, dolcezza,” he growls, lowering his face to your cunt once more, “keep going.”

The sounds he draws out of you as he licks and sucks and fucks his fingers into you are unlike any you’ve made before. Somewhere in the back of your fuzzy mind you wonder if people passing by in the hallway can hear you but that only makes your hips buck into his touch even harder. You do as he asks and begs, promising him anything, anything as long as he doesn’t stop, please don’t stop. When you finally come apart, your muscles burn and you scream his name - fuck now you know someone heard that - as he presses against that sweet spot inside you. You don’t even notice him removing his mouth and pulling back so he can watch your face contort as you pant and sweat against his pillows. Your vision has gone blurry as you stare at the canopy above you, only somewhat aware of him sliding his fingers out of you and pulling back. You look up at him, sitting on his haunches looking both smug and full of affection, as he licks at the mess on his hand.

“C’mere,” you say, crooking a finger at him. He obliges with a smile, and when his face approaches yours you grab him by the back of the head and pull him in for a slow, wet kiss. 

“Mm–like the taste of yourself, ragazza mia? Filthy thing.”

You can feel his cock nudging you through his pants and you grind upwards against him. He growls into your mouth before pulling away.

“Don’t finish me before I get started, amata,” he purrs, leaning down to run his tongue along your jaw.

You laugh.

“That wasn’t you getting started?” you marvel, and he pulls back to give you a lewd wink. “Take these off, my love. I want to see all of you.”

He nods, sliding backwards off the bed to stand. You watch him intently as he finishes unbuttoning and untucking his clerical shirt before unfastening his pants and sliding them and his underwear down to step out of them. He’s…gorgeous. You always knew he was but seeing him like this - bare and freckled, the brown hair on his body abundant - you sigh. Something dreamy and romantic sits on your tongue until your eyes travel to the juncture of his thighs and your mouth runs dry. He crawls on his hands and knees towards you, settling in between your legs and stroking his thick, reddened cock.

“You, eh. You like it?”

You nod dumbly, unable to form anything coherent. His body is clearer now in this light - he’s got a scar on the right side of his abdomen and on his left pectoral you see–

“A tattoo?!” you splutter loudly. 

The self-satisfied smile on his face drops as he lets go of his cock and it bobs in front of him.

“Really? That’s what you’re focusing on?”

The ridiculousness of the whole situation hits you at once - the two of you nude, you being a virgin, him with his tattoo, both of you in this fucking Satanic abbey - and you tilt your head back and laugh. He growls and throws himself forward, caging you in underneath him.

“I show you my cock and you laugh?” he chastises you, mustache twitching as he fights back a smile. “Have some dignity, piccola vergine mia.”

Your laughter dies and you take in the flushed face of the man above you, strands of hair falling into his eyes. 

“I love you.”

His eyes get misty, as do yours, as he reaches up to cup your cheek.

“Amata mia, dolcezza mia, vita mia, tutto mio. Ti amo. Per sempre.”

He leans down and places a sweet, soft kiss on your cheek before nuzzling into it.

“Are you ready?”

You cup his jaw and run your thumb over his cheekbone.

“Have your wicked way with me, Cardinale,” you smile, your hips shifting up against his. The drag of his wet cock against the heat of you makes him groan.

“Diavoletta mia,” he growls, leaning back and taking himself in hand. You spread your legs wider, still soaked from your earlier activities, and present yourself to him. When his cockhead prods at your entrance, you jump and his eyes fly to yours for confirmation. You nod and gently, slowly, he pushes himself in. There’s no pain, only pressure, as he slides in, his breathing ragged in an effort to maintain control. When he bottoms out, your bodies flush to one another, you pant up at him.

“Y-you okay?” he stammers, clearly trying his hardest to restrain himself. You watch a drop of sweat slide down his temple.

“Copia,” your voice is calmer than it’s been all evening, “don’t hold back.”

You feel his arms wobble on either side of you at your words as he slides nearly all the way out of you and pushes back in. He repeats the action, each thrust gaining more force than the last. The feel of him stretching you is divine, hypnotic, and watching him slowly come apart above you even more so. He’s moaning desperately with each slide of his cock, his eyes frantically searching yours.

“That’s it, baby,” you breathe, canting your hips upwards to meet his thrusts. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

When you experimentally clench around him he whines, his hands seeking yours to entwine your fingers. He fucks into you a little harder, little deeper with a shift of his hips, making you arch your back and press your breasts against him.

“S-so good,” he whimpers, “so tight, amore. So–ah–sweet for me, always.”

All you can do is moan in response as he jerks against you. You’re full - so deliciously full of him - and wildly you wonder how you went this long without him. This man that you adored so deeply - who adored you back - who always cared, always listened. You can feel tears prick the corners of your eyes and you whimper as you wrap your legs around his waist as tight as you possibly can. His movements are limited now by your actions but you don’t care - all you care about is keeping the two of you joined as close as possible.

“Amore, amore, amore,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. Despite his thrusts no longer being quite as deep, they are no less forceful.

“Thank you,” you manage to eke out, “thank you. Vita mia. Mondo mio. You’re perfect.”

He chuffs out a noise between a sob and a pant, clearly moved by your use of language. The snap of his hips picks up and you can feel that pressure building inside of you once more. 

“Copia,” you whimper, “Copia I’m close, I’m so close, don’t stop. Please, my love.”

His fingers tighten in yours, palms slick with sweat and you feel yourself falling, falling. Your cunt spasms around him as his thrusts become wild, erratic and you feel wave upon wave of pleasure spreading from your core through your limbs and into your fingertips. It’s different from your usual orgasms - less violent, less frantic - but no less intense. You can feel the tears sliding down into your hair as you buck up against him, desperate to wring out every last moment of the feeling.

“Cara,” Copia’s voice is hoarse, “I’m–I’m going–”

“Let go. Show me how much you love me, Copia.”

Your command is all the permission he needs and lets out a low, broken moan of your name as his hips spasm into yours and you feel his seed pulse inside of you. Idly, you think about how glad you are that you visited Primo before this. You look up at the man on top of you and reach up to push his hair out of his eyes. His eyes are bright, white eye glowing, as he shakes and struggles to hold himself up. Gently, you ease him to the side, making sure to keep the two of you joined as he collapses next to you. You’re simply not ready to let go yet. The two of you tremble in each other’s arms, content to bathe in the heavy emotion. Your tears have dried and now a calm washes over you.

“Hey,” you murmur, fingers raking through Copia’s sweaty hair. He’s watching you carefully - every dart of your eyes and twitch of your cheeks - as if he’s anticipating something.

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching out to run his thumb over your bottom lip. “So was that, eh. Satisfactory?”

You snort and tug lightly at his hair.

“I think I can now say I’ve been thoroughly and successfully ravished, Cardinal. This must be quite a feather in your cap. You’ve made your Unholy Father proud.”

Now it’s his turn to snort.

“Just be thankful no one else found out about your, eh, former condition. You’d have had clergy and siblings and ghouls all lined up for you.”

“Oh,” you begin with a not-so-innocent tone, “so that’s why you romanced me, huh? Wanted first dibs?”

“Cara, no,” Copia says, deadly serious all of a sudden, “this isn’t–I would never–”

You laugh, dragging your fingers through his chest hair.

“My love, it’s been almost a year, I thought you’d be used to my stupid jokes by now.”

“Ah!” he rolls his eyes and waves at you dismissively, making you laugh even harder.

You finally have to separate, his softened cock sliding out of you as you push backwards. When you try to swing your legs over the bed and stand a hand wraps around your bicep and hauls you back down to bounce on the mattress.

“And where do you think you’re going, signorina?”

“Well I was gonna go pee and then–”

Quick as a cat, he rolls onto you, grinning down at you.

“Bellezza mia,” he purrs, “I hope you didn’t make plans for the next few days. We have, eh, lots of time to make up for. And you,” he leans down and runs his tongue over your pulse point, feeling it thunder against your skin, “have so much to learn.”

When the two of you text Sister Imperator with suspiciously matching illnesses the next morning, she smiles to herself. 

All in Lucifer’s plan.

[prettyiwa]

Miyuki Kazuya x Reader content tags: fluff, pre-dating, the crushing inability to stop thinking about his HC word count: 350

Miyuki Kazuya can't take pictures worth shit. You like to joke that he's doing it on purpose and he insists he's trying his best but, either way, the end result is the same.

You first find this out when he complains you've spent too much time behind your camera instead of hanging out with him. His self-satisfied smirk drops when you tell him that you'll stop taking pictures if he takes them for you. Every so many minutes, you're pulling on his sleeve, pointing in the direction of the shot you'd like to capture. He obliges each time, making some smart ass remark before snapping the shot, and you think nothing of it until you make it home to develop the film.

Half of them feature his finger blocking at least some of the lens, if not all of it. Another third of them are blurry and otherwise out of focus and if they aren't one of those, they're of a completely different subject. Not like you particularly mind—you can always return tomorrow or the following weekend.

He denies those are his pictures when you show them, trying to claim that they're yours. The pictures you took earlier, before he took your camera from you? Those are obviously the ones he took. Even if he's the subject of three of them.

It turns into a game of sorts with him insisting on using your camera for half of your outings together, the only thing changing being the amount of finger in the shot. When he has your camera, he likes taking pictures of you, saying that you're already laughing so the picture will be "more authentic this way."

When you two start dating, it doesn't get any better. For his birthday, you gift him a mini instant camera and a photograph of him getting the winning run for the Japan Series. The first picture he takes is of him kissing you. You two are barely in frame and there's movement because it felt like he tackled you in his enthusiasm and, in all honesty, it's kind of perfect.

tagging: @tyga-lily, @ceenthesis, @no1frogfan, @eiyun, @miyukiissofine

Daiya no Ace Masterlist

[husbandohoarder]

WHERE THE FUCK IS THE KAJI X READERS?!?

I JUST GOT INTO EVA AND YOU’RE TELLING ME THIS BONAFIDE SLIM WAIST SEXY MAN SHAPED BITCH HAS NO CONTENT ON HERE???????? NONE??????????

[emeryleewho]

I actually find it really sad that people's response to missing some allusion in fiction is to say the story did a bad job of explaining it rather than to think "maybe I should read closer next time" or "maybe the target audience for this piece has some context that I don't and it's worth my time to gain some of that context before reading more stories like these". And I mean sad, not in a condescending way, but in an "it genuinely hurts my heart and I wish I could help" way.

[ageless-aislynn]

"15 Minutes - a John x Reader mini playlist"

(for my fic of the same name)

"Someone To You" - Banners I just want to be somebody to someone I never had nobody and no road home I wanna be somebody to someone

"Love Me Like You Do" - Tanner Patrick Yeah, I'll let you set the pace 'Cause I'm not thinking straight My head's spinning around, I can't see clear no more What are you waiting for?

"Silhouette" - Aquilo The devil's on your shoulder, the stranger's in your head As if you don't remember, as if you can forget It's only been a moment, it's only been a lifetime But tonight you're a stranger Some silhouette

"Don't Give Up On Me" - Andy Grammer I'll reach my hands out in the dark And wait for yours to interlock I'll wait for you

"Here With Me" - Robot Koch ft Susie Suh Caught in the riptide I was searching for the truth There was a reason I collided into you

~💖~

[alessiathepirate]

December 24

Prompt: "I thought you were going home for Christmas." "Well, I couldn't leave you all alone."

The Dark Pictures Anthology: The Curator x fem!reader

•••

The Repository didn't look like an ordinary room at all. Even the halls leading up to it weren't normal, they led to many different places if you didn't have a compass with you and the ability to know how it works.

Still, for Christmas it was quite ordinary.

Nothing changed, everything looked like it did yesterday or the day before yesterday. It was dark, full of books and cold. Quite cold, even with the fireplace present.

But no matter how empty and cold it seemed when compared to the streets in the cities, she stayed there for the holiday. Or at least came back for the holiday.

"I thought you were going home for Christmas." The Curator said, not hiding his surprised tone, as she walked through the door.

He was holding a book in his hands, a thick one, the one she knew was full of empty pages. They must have had a visitor.

"Well, I couldn't leave you all alone here, could I?" she asked with a small smile as she got rid of her gloves and started to take off her scarf.

Soon the book was put on The Curator's desk as he walked around it to help her with her coat. His hands unbuttoned it carefully, and she couldn't help but smile shily when he helped it off her shoulders, his fingers barely touching her arms.

"I appreciate the concern dear, but you should've gone home to enjoy the holidays."

"I changed my mind. I'd rather spend it here with you than spend it with people who don't think of me as someone important." she explained slowly.

"Stupidity when one's left in the dark about things is always amusing." he said as she started to walk around, eventually walking up to the desk to see which story he's telling. "I hope you don't believe that of yourself."

"Every life is equally important." she said as she smiled, knowing that's part of the teachings in the stories. "If I see it right we have a story to finish. 'House of Ashes' again?"

"That seemed to fit our visitor best."

She stayed there, leaning against the desk as she looked at him and considered him. They both had important roles in the job they were doing even if she was the only human being in it.

Would they have time for a bit of celebration?

Did The Curator celebrate it?

"When will our visitor be back?" she asked.

"In about an hour or so, I believe."

They both looked at the other, seemingly both of them understanding what she wanted. She smiled at that.

"Merry Christmas by the way." she said with a careful tone and a slight headtilt. "Care to have a drink with me?"

It was very rare that The Curator smiled, but right then he did. Without answering her he picked up two glasses and a bottle of wine, the kind they drank once or twice when no visitor came.

They chose to move toward the fireplace, where she put two armchairs years before. That was the warmest corner of the Repository. She adored it a lot.

Before taking a glass from him and sitting down, she pulled the small Christmas stocking from her pocket, not bigger than her palm. She put it up above the fireplace, making her favourite corner more comfortable.

"It looks better, doesn't it?" she asked as she took a glass from him.

"Much better dear."

They sipped some wine after they gently collided their glasses. One of his arms rested around her waist as a sign of affection.

"You know, we are probably the only ones who work during Christmas and no one's there to appreciate what we do." she said as they sat down.

"Once again, the stupidity of the blind. The world would be empty without the stories we tell."

She hummed, putting her glass aside.

Loving Death meant having these moments. The calm ones. The beautiful ones. The ones in a warm and comfortable corner.

She looked at their hands holding each other, fingers intertwined.

Loving Death meant loving the thought of dying too.

"Care to read a story for me while we wait?" she asked.

The Curator most obviously said yes.