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—The Hunter’s Blood Moon—

Summary: Daniella is just your average college graduate, with a two-year film degree, a simple shift at her local bookstore, and a large friend group of two. On her graduation trip to Sweden, not only does she meet new faces and try new things, but a nighttime run-in with some fallen angels helps her discover innate magical powers even she was not aware of. And when some very-familiar-looking skeleton-faced popes show up to provide their own assistance, it’s up to Daniella to decide whether she wants to go back to her old life or stay in the Satanic Ministry of Ghost and learn the ways of their Dark God.

Chapter List (ongoing)

Prologue

Chapter 1 (in progress)

Best Folk Album

I was thinking about what would’ve happened if Copia and the ghouls had attended the Grammy’s and I came up with this cracky little story.  I hope it makes you smile or laugh (or both)!

1,100 words, Gen, Fluff and (maybe) humor.

AO3 Link

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Most of the time when things went wrong in his life Copia could blame tequila.  Or Dewdrop.

This time he could blame both.

Keep reading

Uno Night

Primo x teen, sleepy reader (Platonic)

Primo finds you asleep, listening to his album.

/ / /

yeah. no explanation. it's 2 am and zoo has sleepy bitch disease (again)

. . .

"Where's the kid?"

A silence fell over the room. Copia looked to his brothers. "Haven't you seen y/n? Surely they're running around here somewhere."

"You know teenagers," spoke Secondo. "You know, when I was their age-"

"We know, fratello. Let's hope they're not following in your footsteps," Terzo interrupts. "They don't cause trouble, generally. Unless they're with the ghouls; then we should have need for concern."

"Oh, lord below, I'm sure they are fine. They're nearly an adult you know. But if you are that concerned, Copia, I will go look for them. The three of you can continue without me."

"Thank you, fratello. I do appreciate it. It is not like them to miss Uno night."

Primo rolled his eyes before walking out the door.

His footsteps echoed loudly throughout the empty hall. There was not a soul in sight; no ghouls, siblings, or even Sister Imperator. He wondered what everyone could be up to; it was most likely that everyone had their own things going on. He imagined siblings in their own private quarters, partaking in their own individual activities. A bit of light reading, perhaps; or watching TV, drawing, writing, working, sleeping.

He wondered what you could be up to. It was possible you were with the ghouls; or maybe you were in your own bedroom, having forgotten about tonight's game. Maybe you were in the kitchen, making a late night snack. Maybe you had elected to spend the night with another sibling. No matter what you were doing, he was determined to discover your whereabouts. He just hoped it wasn't mischievous or dangerous.

As he approached your bedroom, he listened for any signs of life. He heard none, even after he knocked on your door. Opening the door, he discovered your still-made bed; he supposed you hadn't been in there yet for the night. He continued to ponder where you could be.

Next he tried the kitchen. Though he discovered a small group of ghouls that were absolutely up to no good, he didn't find you. He rolled his eyes as Aether swallowed a banana whole with the peel, turning to leave.

"Have you checked the commons?" Called Swiss.

"No, I have not. Is that where they are?"

"They were earlier. 'Dunno if they still are though," Aether manages with a mouthful of banana.

"Ah, well- thank you. I will stop by." He starts walking out the door once more. "Please stop eating the bananas whole!" He calls.

As he heads towards the common room, he wonders what you could be doing there. Sometimes the ghoulettes host game nights, which may explain the halls' emptiness.

Pushing open the heavy oak door, he is met with an empty common room. A fire is roaring in the fireplace, the only defense against the bitter chill that plagues the Ministry at this time of year.

He walks to the center of the room, making his way around the giant couch. Once he does, he spots you.

You're fast asleep, tangled up in a thin green blanket within the soft confines of the couch. You're curled up slightly, chest rising and falling with steady rhythms. He spots your phone, clutched tightly in hand, a pair of earbuds connected and in your ears.

With a sigh, he steps closer to your figure. He carefully removes the earbuds and phone from your grasp, turning it on to pause whatever you had drifted off listening to. He smiles, chuckling to himself when he sees.

You had fallen asleep to Opus Eponymous.

His album.

He leans down to your height. Brushing the hair out of your face, he decides to rouse you.

You stir, a deep whine escaping your lips as you crack your eyelids open. "...Primo?"

"Ah, good evening," he greets, "are you ready for bed, dolce?"

"What?" Your voice is rough with sleep, confusion on your face.

He chuckles. "Let's get you to bed." He reaches out to pull the blanket off of you; you whine, burying your face in your arms. "Come on now, don't be difficult. Bedtime, let's go." You don't move, breaths steadying once more. He sighs, using his hands to shake you gently. "Bambino, wake up. Bedtime."

Finally, you awaken. You open your eyes fully, brows knitting together in confusion as you use your arms to lift yourself slightly. You suck in a deep breath, unable to form words quite yet.

"Hello sleeping beauty," he teases, "are you ready for bed?"

You rub your eyes, pushing yourself to sit up on the couch. The remaining part of the blanket falls from your form, ending into a pile around you. You sleepily nod.

He helps you stand, smiling at the way you press yourself against his side for warmth. He picks up the blanket and wraps it around your shoulders, then returns your cell phone.

"My dear, I saw what you were listening to. How on Earth did you fall asleep to my album? It is not, eh... very soothing."

"Missed you," you mumble, still too drowsy to think.

"'Missed me?' I am right here."

"Busy."

"Ah, well. Would you miss me a little less if I took you to bed?"

"Mhm."

"Very well. But first we must meet with my brothers. They are very worried about you."

"Huh? Why?"

"It is Uno night. Have you forgotten?"

"Aw... I wanna play Uno..."

"Nope. Bedtime."

"Please?"

"No."

"Can I at least watch for a bit?"

He sighs. "Fine. You may watch one round, but then it is off to bed."

. . .

The others cheered when you entered the room.

"Child, we thought you no longer loved us," Terzo yells dramatically.

"Where were you?" Questions Secondo.

"You, eh... look drowsy," Copia chimes in.

"Napping in the den," Primo says, taking a seat at the table. "They wanted to say hi before going to bed. Isn't that right, y/n?"

You nod. "I wanna watch for a bit though." You sit on the couch a few feet away from the table.

"Just watching?" Terzo whines. "Come on, the games are always more interesting when you join!"

Primo shoots him a glare. "No. They're going to bed after this round. Now who's shuffling the cards?"

You quickly lose focus once the game starts. They're oddly quiet; there's no yelling, no throwing of cards. Instead they talk quietly, calmly explaining their complete and utter rage when being handed a thrice-stacked draw four card. You're still sleepy, so you decide to lie down on the couch for a moment. Only for a moment; after all, the game would be ending soon, and Primo would be putting you to bed.

You curl up, using one of the couch pillows to rest your head on. You toss the blanket over your legs, watching the brothers play with half-lidded eyes. Over time, those eyes begin to close; before long, you're fast asleep.

. . .

Primo sighs. "I knew I should have taken them to bed."

"What?"

"Look."

The four men pause as your sleeping form is noticed.

"Poor thing," Copia mutters, "they must've had a rough day."

"They fell asleep to my album," gloats Primo. "They said they missed me."

"That is such bullshit. They probably had a playlist going and that's the song they were listening to," Terzo tells him.

"I went into their music library to pause the music. They were listening to my album."

The arguing is interrupted when a yawn is heard from your direction. "Whadya talkin' about?" You ask, words slurring from sleep. Your eyes open, and you sit up slightly.

"Don't worry baby, just go back to sleep," Copia says. "We're sorry to wake you."

"Wasn't sleeping," you rub your eyes, "Jus' bored."

"Alright," Primo stands. "That's enough. I should have tucked you in long ago. Come on, time for bed dolcezza."

You whine. "What about the game? Aren't you gonna finish?"

"We already did, long ago," Secondo chuckles. "You've been asleep this whole time."

"Was not."

"Were too."

"Alright, enough. Come on, kiddo. Bedtime." Primo hovers over you now, and helps you to your feet. You're wobbly, still sleepy, and press against him. He smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "Ah, don't forget your blanket." He picks it up and hands it to you. "Okay, sleepy-time. Come on."

A chorus of "good night, sleep well!" can be heard from throughout the room. Unable to form a coherent thought, all you can think of to respond with is a soft-spoken "Night night." The room goes silent.

You hear Terzo giggle, followed by a loud smack, then; "ooow! What the Hell was that for?!"

Copia stands to bid you goodnight. "Pleasant dreams," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your head. "I would tell you to sleep well, but it already seems that you will." He winks at you. "Good night."

Primo acts as your support as the two of you walk down the hallway. When you yawn for the millionth time, he asks, "Kiddo, did you take something to make you this tired?"

You nod. "I had hives again, so I took three benedryl."

"Ah, now it makes sense."

. . .

"Comfy?" He asks, smirking at the way you're pressed up against him. You're curled up in his bed, half asleep with your head pressed into the crook of his arm. You've only been here a moment, but the drowsiness has already taken over.

"Mhm," you mumble, nuzzling further into him. A few moments later, you're asleep yet again.

"Sorry for keeping you up, kiddo. I would have put you to bed a lot earlier if I'd known." Your only response is light snoring. "Poor thing." He hadn't even been able to keep you awake long enough to make a trip to your bedroom for pajamas; he was thankful you'd dressed yourself in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that day. At least you weren't sleeping in jeans.

It hadn't taken him long to coax you onto the bed. You'd laid down first without him, waiting as he got dressed. When he'd returned a moment later, you were already on the verge of sleep, clutching his pillow and laying atop the covers.

Now he's got you cozied up to him, watching as your chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. He leans over to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Night night, little one."

Satan’s Toy Box

Hello anon!  Thank you for the prompt and I hope you enjoy what I came up with!  

~ As the owner of the local sex toy shop you find yourself developing a crush on a Cardinal from the local Satanic church ~

The prompt was: attempting to find out if they are single/available

Cardinal Copia x GN Reader (nsfw, 18+, mdni)

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

Today was going to be the day.

Keep reading

FUCKKKK OH MY GODDD STOP ITTT 😭😭😭

Stolen Goodbyes and Forced Promotions

a tiny drabble about why Copia seemed to have been crying prior to the post-credit scene.

As Frater Imperator stood in the cold Abbey hall, he couldn’t help thinking about how much he didn’t want to be there.

He loved being Papa. He loved walking onto the stage to thousands of adoring fans screaming his name. He loved performing for them, giving them a moment of happiness that they could hold onto even after he was gone. He loved spreading Satan’s message and giving the weak, abandoned, and unloved a place they could call home.

He never wanted to stop being Papa.

The worst part of all this was that he wasn’t asked to step down. He was not given a choice.

Instead, he’d woken up to find his mother’s dead body and a letter delivered by Mr. Saltarian.

He hadn’t even gotten to tell her goodbye.

Copia had always been afraid he would end up like Terzo. He was terrified that once the Clergy was done with him, they would force him off the stage and take his life.

Now, he almost envied him. At least his life had ended and his soul was in Hell with his brothers and the Unholy Father he had spent his whole life serving.

Copia was alone. He had no family, no friends, no support to keep him going. He had to stand in his stiff, fancy suit and pretend that he was happy to have been promoted to take his dead mother’s place. He wasn’t even given a chance to grieve.

And, on top of it all, he had to welcome some stranger into his home and let him take his place.

Nihil and his mother had emphasized the importance of living in the here and now, but the here and now was awful. He hated it. He wanted to go back. He wanted to hug his mother and tell her he loved her. He wanted to bask in the love of the people he’d spent so many years giving his heart to.

He didn’t want to be Frater Imperator.

But he was, and there was nothing he could do to change it.

Maybe, if he was lucky, he and the new guy could grow to be friends.

At least then, he wouldn’t feel so alone.

Camellia: Copia x f!reader - Chapter 6

Camellia: n. - A flower which symbolizes a deep desire or longing.

Summary: Even though you have finally begun to translate Elizabeth's diary, you still need context. A visit from the archivist answers some questions but raises even more.

Word count: 4.6k

A/N: Helloooooo! Thank you all again for your extraordinary patience in the long wait for this chapter. It isn't the most eventful (nor am I the proudest of it) but things are definitely happening, and I think you all will enjoy where it's going!

P.s., the identity of the archivist was inspired by the lovely @writingjourney <3

Warnings: Nihil being a bad dad (again), descriptions of anxiety/panic, descriptions of afab people being seen as objects

AO3 / Chapter 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

Secondo thinks that abdicating the position of Papa might be the best thing to ever happen to him. 

That’s not to say he disliked being Papa. Quite the opposite, really—holding the scepter, wearing the crown, and hearing the title were all a generous ego boost. But the aspect he loved the most was that he could promote the tenets of the Lord Below how he wanted, how he felt was most effective. He was the mouthpiece of Satan, the proprietor of His word and the bridge between his unholy flock and the fires of Hell. 

But that’s about it. He loved the glory, sure. He did not like the man that the Ministry molded him into. Once he stepped down, it was hard to look himself in the eye without cringing. He was supposed to hold the power for Satan, not the Clergy, and certainly not for Sister Imperator. 

Just about the only thing he has to thank that woman for is the time he’s gotten back after “stepping down.”

Secondo has always been interested in the archives, ever since he was a boy. He would sneak around the Abbey in Rome into places he shouldn’t have been and see things he probably shouldn’t have seen, and keep everything he saw to himself. Having the knowledge of secrets he wasn’t supposed to know made him feel important, like he held some power over the Clergy if he decided to open his mouth. 

So when he'd stumbled upon a dim room towards the back of the library at the tender age of eight, he thought he’d found the Library of Alexandria. Wall-to-wall shelves of thick leather bound books, stacks of tightly-rolled parchment and linens depicting unholy scenes. An old wooden table holding a desk lamp and a magnifying glass. A single lone lamp that, when he’d pulled the chain to illuminate it, had emanated a click so loud that he thought he’d be caught for sure. 

He’d been so disappointed when he realized he couldn’t understand any of the books or scrolls or linens. They were all written in a language unfamiliar, which he knows now to be Latin. But at eight years old, his primary focus was to learn the unholy scripture, to serve Satan in his duties as an altar boy, and to make his father proud. 

That last point… he never did accomplish. 

But he did eventually learn Latin, so that he could read what was in that dim room. He’d learned to shimmy the lock open (the Roman Abbey is ancient, it wasn’t a difficult task) and sneak in, absorbing as much information as he could. 

Secondo learned about rituals that haven’t been done in centuries. He read prayers and psalms that had been forgotten with time. He found drawings of long lost artifacts and relics shrouded in mystery. Each new bit of knowledge gave him that rush of adrenaline that could only come from forbidden things. 

When he was old enough, he was allowed into the archive room. Of course, no one had known he’d already spent countless hours there. His father wanted him to know his family history if he were to take up the helm of Papa one day. You need to know what is in your blood, his father had said. Just as Primo does, and just as Terzo will. 

Secondo had wanted to ask, what about Copia? But he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want his archive privileges revoked as soon as he’d gotten them. 

The first thing he’d done was find his family tree. Who came before him? Who was Papa before his father, and before his father’s father? How far back did the Emeritus bloodline really go?

It was in the family tome that he first discovered the words Primus Motor. Up until a specific time, every Emeritus heir had been conceived by a woman with the title Prime Mover. Then the women proceeding them had lost that title, with seemingly no pomp or circumstance. Nearly a thousand years ago, the title had been dropped and forgotten. The final Prime Mover, it seems, had been a woman named Elizabeth. 

When her diary had been found in some random basement room of the Abbey, Secondo immediately requested to be the archivist in charge. She was his ancestor, and the last Prime Mover on record. Her diary must have an explanation, or some insight as to what exactly a Prime Mover is. There were Prime Mover rituals outlined in those books he’d found as a boy, sure. But none ever explained what the significance was beyond “the chosen maternal body.” It all sounded rather dehumanizing.

But Sister Imperator had told him to keep that fact a secret. She’d brought in a translator to decipher the diary without telling her the whole story. So, he wasn’t terribly surprised to learn that you’d requested to speak to him, or that when he finds you in the restricted room, you look like a deer caught in headlights.

“Papa,” you say, standing to greet him formally. You bow your head out of respect and give him your name. “I can be out of your way, if you need—” 

Secondo simply puts a hand up to stop you. “No, sorella. I am here to speak to you about the diary, as you requested.” 

Your eyes go so wide that he almost laughs. “Wh-what?” You swallow. “Forgive me, Papa, I didn’t know that you are the archivist who evaluated Elizabeth’s diary…” 

“Is that going to be a problem?” Secondo asks. 

“No! No,” you scramble, shaking your head slightly to align your own thoughts. His intense gaze pins you to the spot, and not in a good way. Not a bad way, either, but… not in the way Copia’s gaze does. 

Determined not to make a fool of yourself, you steel your nerves. “It’s not a problem, Papa. I apologize. I have only… the highest member of the Clergy I have ever met until I arrived here was Bishop Beaumont. I still find myself a bit overwhelmed, sometimes.” 

The corners of Secondo’s painted lips tick up at your admission, but he makes no mention of it. “No matter. What is it you wished to discuss?” 

You sit and turn your notebook around so Secondo can read the translation of the first line. Today I was chosen to be Papa’s Prime Mover. 

“I was wondering,” you begin, “if you might be able to tell me what a Prime Mover is.” 

After reading the translated line, Secondo leans back. “I do not know much,” he answers gruffly. “But I do know that it was an esteemed position. Something to do with continuing the bloodline. However the title of Prime Mover is no longer used.” 

“How come?” You ask. 

“I do not know.” 

You hum and look down at Elizabeth’s diary, like it might speak the answer to you itself. Something to do with continuing the bloodline? “Sister Imperator told me that you estimated this diary to be about five hundred years old,” you say. “Is there a reason you chose that number?”

At Secondo’s silence, you meet his eyes again to find that his brows are furrowed and his jaw is set. His lips form a tight line, deepening the clefts beside his mouth. “I only ask because it may help with context,” you offer, defending your question. Your chest flutters with nerves again. You hope you haven’t somehow angered him… he’s quite intimidating. 

Secondo’s mind turns. Sister Imperator hadn’t told you that he was the archivist, and she’d told you a different number than the one he’d estimated. She asked him to keep Elizabeth’s status as the last Prime Mover a secret. It seems odd, like she knows something that she wants neither you nor Secondo to. He finds himself annoyed that Sister wants to keep something shrouded in such unnecessary mystery. 

“Sister Imperator has given you the wrong number,” he says after a moment of tense silence. “I believe it is nearly a thousand years old.” 

“A thousand?” You gape. For a volume that’s a millennium old, it’s in remarkably good shape. You’d thought the same when you believed it was just five hundred years old. 

Secondo nods. Whatever reasons that Sister Imperator has for wanting to keep the diary a secret, he doesn’t know. But if he can do anything to learn about his family and its history, or if he can spite Sister… he’ll take that chance. “Elizabeth is the last Prime Mover on record. I do not know why the title was dropped, and I do not know why it is supposed to be such a secret.” 

Oh. Yes, you understand. Papa must have his reasons for disliking Sister, and you have your own. If you can contravene her in this small way, a secret kept between an archivist and a translator, you will. You’re slightly ashamed that the thought makes you a little giddy, but not ashamed enough to not do it. 

“So,” you guess, “you’re hoping that this diary answers that?” 

“Correct,” Papa nods again, and stands. “I ask that you keep me informed, sorella.” 

“Of course, Papa,” you say with a polite smile. 

He leaves the restricted room and you’re left alone with Elizabeth again. Only this time, there is a new clarity between you and your subject. Your gaze drops down to the pages of jumbled letters, wondering. 

Papa Secondo had said that the position of Prime Mover was esteemed. If it had been, why was it dissolved? Perhaps it wasn’t dissolved at all, and it was only forgotten? And… the position is related to the Papal bloodline, so surely these Prime Movers would have been the mothers, right? 

The answers lie in front of you, waiting to be translated. Elizabeth herself beckons you with her slanted script, saying, read me. Hear what I have to say. 

And how you want to focus. How you want to spend the next weeks painstakingly deciphering letter by letter, word by word until you find these answers which will sate your curiosity. But, damn it to Hell, all you want to do is find Copia and tell him what you’ve found out. You want to tell him that you’re still here, that Sister Imperator had agreed to let you stay after your dramatic, last-minute discovery. You want to ask him all sorts of questions about what he might know of Prime Movers or his ancestors. You want to watch the excitement bloom in his eyes as it always does when you speak about the diary. 

You have your reservations, though. Going to Copia on anything other than Ministry business feels like you’re overstepping your position. Who are you to assume that you’re important enough to him to just pop in? 

In those moments in the gardens, and in the chapel, though… it sure felt like you were. He had looked at you like you were. In the gardens he was Copia, and you find within yourself that you’d rather be sent back to Liège than see Copia as only Papa again. 

~~~ 

It’s been two days since Copia has seen you. Two full days since he’d watched you half-waddle down the Sibling corridor, soaking wet and shivering and covered in mud from the knees down, and he can’t focus on anything whatsoever. 

There’s some official bulletin or another on his desk, awaiting his signature to distribute it out to the rest of the Ministry, but he can’t bring himself to pick up his pen and sign it. Not for a lack of caring—the bulletin is actually quite important—but because he’s conjured up this beautiful picture of you in his head, and he’s afraid that if he moves he’ll lose it. 

You must be busy. You’d told him you had an idea about the cipher on your way up the hill out of the gardens, and if he hasn’t so much as gotten a glimpse of you around the Abbey, it must have been a breakthrough. He knows how frustrated you’d been, how determined you were to figure it out, as you’d said. I want to stay and figure it out. 

Another part of Copia’s mind, the part he doesn’t want to listen to but that is so very loud, tells him that perhaps your idea had been wrong, and Sister Imperator had sent you home. Maybe the reason he hasn’t seen you is because you’re not even here anymore. 

So, he keeps still, his eyes unseeing as he stares into nothing but his own mental image of you. If you’re really gone, at least he has this. You might not be gone, but he’s almost scared to go looking for you because he might find that you are. As it stands, you are Schrödinger's Sister of Sin. Here, and not. 

His, and not. 

“Al diavolo questo,” Copia grumbles to himself, pushing himself up from his chair. He rounds his desk, sending a few loose papers (including the bulletin he’s supposed to sign by the end of the day) to the floor, and swings open the door to his office. He turns left, towards the library. If there’s a chance he can see you, rather than his limited mental image of you, he’d be foolish not to take it. 

His footsteps are determined, bringing him quickly down the stairs to the main artery of the Abbey, and across the wide hall towards the entrance to the library. His breath picks up and his heart pounds in his ears like he’s sprinting. By the end of this agonizing trek to the restricted room, he just might be. 

He takes the stairs to the right of the library entrance two at a time. Usually he would smile and wave to whichever Sibling is working the front desk, but not today. The guilt he feels is quickly squashed by the pressing need to either see you or not see you. It feels like it’s eating him up, not knowing. 

Copia has tried to be patient and give you time, if you are still here. He knows that what happened between the two of you in the chapel was a lot, all at once, and even if nothing had been said explicitly, you must know. You must. 

For a moment, when he reaches the top of the stairs, he wonders why it is that he feels so strongly for you, so quickly. It’s as if Satan himself deposited you on his doorstep, just for him. As if Satan had kept him from sleeping that night, so that you could run right into him outside the restricted room door. 

He rounds the corner to walk further into the library, into the shelves of romance books (which, he admits, is rather serendipitous placement). His heart thuds against his sternum when he sees the little square window in the door illuminated. Who else would be in that room with the door closed but you? Who else would have any reason to spend more than five minutes in there, aside from you, or Secondo?

Copia loves his brother. He really does. But he hopes to Lucifer that it isn’t Secondo behind that door, or he might punch him simply for the fact that he’s not you. 

He reaches the door, and pauses. His hand rests on the brass doorknob, but doesn’t turn, because what if you are gone? 

No, no. You aren’t gone. You can’t be gone. 

He turns the handle and pushes the door open on squeaky hinges. There you are, sitting at the desk you always do, head tilted up to see who is at the door. Your brows are slightly raised, your shoulders are hunched—you must be tense from sitting over your work all day—and your finger is placed against that grid of letters as if you had been in the middle of decoding a word when he walked in. The light of the desk lamp attached to your station casts your skin in a warm glow. 

If he thought his heart would calm when he saw that you’re still at the Abbey, he was mistaken. Just the sight of you here, that slight hint of heat in your face illuminated so plainly by the desk lamp has his chest vibrating with relief. At least his mind quiets, the tempest of thoughts and questions finally calming after a long, sleepless two days. 

“Papa?” You ask, after a long moment. You sit up a bit straighter and tilt your head. The slight crease between your brows returns, and Copia wishes he could kiss it smooth again. “Are you alright?”

Your voice seems to break Copia out of whatever reverie he’s stuck in, because he finally blinks and his jaw closes. “I— eh, yes, I’m alright.” 

You slowly stand from your desk and round it, but keep a respectable distance between you and Copia. “You don’t seem alright,” you say. “Copia… what’s wrong?” 

It feels like a weight off his shoulders to hear you call him by his name. With you, he’s not Papa. He doesn’t want to be Papa, not to you, not when you’re looking at him like that. “I thought you might have been gone,” Copia breathes, his voice just above a whisper. “I thought she might have sent you back.” 

“She didn’t.” 

“Good, that’s… good.”

You and Copia stare at one another for another moment. The air is thick with something unspoken. 

“I figured it out,” you say. Then you add, “the diary,” because you both know that there are two things you had to figure out. The diary, and… this. 

You’re still working on whatever this is, and Copia is still staring at you. 

“Copia,” you say with an awkward little smile, “why are you staring at me?” 

His own lips curve into a smile. “Sorry, cara mia. I’m just happy you’re not gone.” 

“Me, too.” 

“So, eh… what is it that you figured out?” Copia asks, blinking a few times in rapid succession. His heart still hammers in his ears. 

You round your desk again to turn your notebook over and show him. “She’s clever. Every word requires a new key, which is why we could only decipher one word using her name,” you explain. “Every decoded word is the key to the next one.”

Copia leans over to read the notebook. You have it flipped open to the complete translation of the first line, and his eyes scan the sentence a few times. “Prime Mover?” he asks, looking back up at you. 

“I don’t know, either,” you tell him. 

He hums in response, his gaze falling back towards the diary and your notebook. 

“When were you going to tell me that your brother is the archivist, you ass?” 

Copia’s head whips back up, afraid that you’d be actually angry at him. His mouth opens, prepared to defend himself because how would he know that you were planning on speaking to his brother? But he sees your wry grin, and the protest dies on his lips. Instead, he releases an airy laugh and his shoulders drop. “Ah, yes… I suppose I should have mentioned that.”

“Sweet Satan, I made myself look like a fool,” you laugh. “I’m not used to Papas and Cardinals walking around yet. Every time I see one I nearly fall over.” 

“You don’t seem so intimidated by me,” Copia says, half relieved and half worried. “What, am I not as scary as Secondo?” 

“Not nearly as scary, no! He could stare someone to death,” you say through a chuckle. “That, and when you and I first met, you were wearing sweatpants and rat slippers.” 

Copia smiles fondly, though you don’t catch it. “So you’re not starstruck by me, tesoro? I’m hurt.” 

“At first I was!” you defend yourself. “But somewhere after that I guess I just… forgot.” 

“Forgot to be starstruck?” 

“Forgot that you are Papa.” 

Oh. Oh, Copia could kiss you, you sweet thing. He doesn’t ever want to go this long without seeing you again. It’s all he can do to stop himself from walking over to you and sweeping you up in his arms and kissing you silly. His hands itch to hold you but you aren’t ready for that yet. So he says instead, “I don’t want to be Papa with you.”

Your heart rises to your throat. “You don’t?” 

“No,” Copia says softly. “I don’t.” 

You have to fight off the smile threatening to stretch your lips. You don’t want him to be Papa with you either, but you don’t know what you do want him to be to you. 

You do know that you want him to kiss you. You do know that the thought of leaving the Abbey without resolving whatever this is made your heart ache, but that talking about whatever this is would make it real and that terrifies you. You do know that falling in love with him means you have something to lose. It’s not quite that, not yet, but… it could be. 

Copia can see your mind working itself in circles. He knows that you’ll talk yourself out of it—whatever it is—if he doesn’t intervene. “Tesoro,” he calls to you, pulling your focus back out from inside your head. When he’s certain you can see him and not just through him, he takes a slow step forward and gently reaches for your hand. The white linen of your gloves, worn while you handle the diary, is a stark contrast to the black leather of his. It slips against his glove and settles into his palm like your hands were crafted for him to hold. Sathanas, your hands are perfect. You are perfect. “Please… tell me you know. Tell me you feel it.” 

Your eyes are wide when they meet his own. “I know,” you whisper. Your voice is shaky with the weight of speaking your feelings, making them real. “And I don’t.” 

His thumb rubs circles on your knuckles. “Cara… you know. You must.” 

“I…” you swallow dryly. “I do, but it’s… it’s scary, Copia. It’s happening and I have no control over it and…” 

“And?” Copia whispers. He takes your other hand, stepping just close enough that you can feel his breath ghost across your cheeks. 

“And I will have to leave,” you respond. Your eyes burn with unshed tears that you desperately try to blink away. “As soon as the diary is done, I will have to go back.” 

Copia looks at you for a silent moment. His eyes search your face, noticing all the details he hadn’t noticed before. This is the closest he’s ever been to you. A tear rolls down your cheek and he reaches up to swipe it away with his thumb, but doesn’t return his hand to his side. It cradles your face like you’re something precious, and to him, you are. 

He gently tugs you closer and wraps his arms around you, holding you against him. You tuck your head under his chin, savoring the smell of him, the comfort of his embrace and the warmth of his body through his suit. “It will be alright, carissima mia.” 

You shut your eyes and two fat tears escape as you do. Your body shudders with a repressed sob. 

Copia simply holds you closer, fighting back tears of his own. 

He’d nearly forgotten. Of course you would have to leave again, once your project was done. Just because you’re here now, doesn’t mean you will always be here. 

Maybe there are ways to have you stay. Maybe if he asked Sister Imperator, she would find a place for you here, doing translation as your sole duty. But can he keep you away from your home, when it’s so obvious how fond you are of it? How could he ask you to stay, knowing you would miss Marseille the whole time? 

Copia squeezes you tighter. “Will you do something for me?” He asks so, so softly. One of his hands strokes the back of your head, drawing you closer into his embrace. “Come and work in my office with me, yes? Just for a little while. Or a day or two, maybe. I hate that you’re all alone up here.”

“I can do that,” you say, and draw away from him slightly so you can look at him. You’re sure you must look a mess with your eyes puffy and nose running. But standing this close to him, clutching the fabric of his shirt like it grounds you to the world, you can’t bring yourself to care. “But I need permission from Papa or Sister Imperator to remove the diary from this room.”

Copia smiles. “Well, I have good news, then,” he says with a quirk of his brow. “There’s a Papa right here. Perhaps you should ask him?”

“Right, yes, I forgot,” you laugh. “Papa, do I have your permission to take Elizabeth’s diary out of the restricted room?” 

Copia laughs back and his breath is warm on your cheek. “Yes, tesoro, you have my permission. Only if you bring it straight to my office.” 

“Of course, Papa,” you nod, smiling. 

“Bene! Let me help you with your things.” 

Copia steps away and releases you from his grasp to help you gather your materials. For a brief moment you’re disappointed, but your cheeks warm at the thought that maybe he might hold you again in the safety and comfort of his office. Maybe you might gather the courage to allow yourself to feel the feelings you’re desperately trying to suppress, and maybe he might feel them back. 

But, you chuckle at his charming urgency to help you. You work on wrapping Elizabeth’s diary in its linens, and placing it in a wooden box you retrieve from a small shelf in the corner of the room. You still wear your white gloves. 

“Shall we?” Copia gestures to the open door once you’re both done preparing to leave. His eyes shine with mirth and something you might think was affection if you weren’t doubtful to a fault. 

“We shall,” you reply. He lets you slip past him and out the door, then falls into step beside you as you make your way down the curved staircase. 

~~~

March 27

Today I was chosen to be Papa’s Prime Mover. 

Mother said it is a gift from Satan to be chosen. I am to conceive the next Papa, and continue the bloodline with the blessing of the Olde One. 

Truthfully, I am frightened. Mother said that it is now my only duty. She said it is an extreme privilege to be a Prime Mover and to carry the blood of Emeritus inside me. But I did not get a say. I was chosen, and that was the end. Papa did not even tell me himself, it was Mother. She said it is better to hear the good news from the mouth of the fairer sex, from the woman who did her duty as I must. 

Fairer sex. I must laugh at that. Fairer sex, and yet I must be a vessel for Emeritus blood at the whim of Satan. Fairer sex because I am beautiful but better to be seen and not heard. And yet I am expected to carry and birth the most powerful man in the Ministry, a power that no one else has. To ‘fairer sex’ I bite my thumb. 

There is to be a ritual tomorrow night, to solidify my role as Papa’s Prime Mover. I am horrified. Mother said that a woman can only hope to be so lucky as to be Prime Mover. Must I pray to be a bred heifer? What of me? What of my own wishes? 

I believed the Dark Lord to be wiser than this. I believed he would not ordain any sex to be lesser than the other. I believed in his doctrine of free choice, of fairness and civility, after having been cast down for disobeying. My faith wavers.

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

Tag list: @bonelessghoul @gbatesx @the-did-i-ask @leah-halliwell92 @archive-obsess @rosacrose @nikkyatyourservice @sodoswitchimage @portaltothevoid @lightbluuestars @thesoundresoundsecho @stephnthangss @enchantedbunny @jackson5611-blog @copiasprincipessa @kadedoesthings @justheretoreadleavemealone @tiedyedghoulette @da-rulah

this is literally my favorite fic right now

I Knew Nothing But Shadows pt. 11

Chapter 11: No Going Back

>> Click here to read! :)

Story Summary:

Curious circumstances and a questionable curse from your childhood led you to becoming the resident artist of the local Satanic Church – and a sinister night you’d truly rather forget. Years later, you’re presented with another chance at proving your artistic worth. Only this time, you’re kind of falling for the awkward anti-pope who sits for you and he is oddly interested in the intricacies of your past that you’re so desperately trying to hide. (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Summary:

The tension between you and Copia is getting hard to fight, just like your feelings for each other, and not even work, meetings or a persistent roommate can distract you.

Chapter Content: 12k words, implied past trauma/past wounds, body issues/scars, there is SMUT in here, a lot of it (oral m and f receiving, p in v, emotional sex, body worship), MDNI, 18+

SIDE NOTE: If you want to be tagged in chapters in the future pls let me know!! :)

So yeah I guess this is happening :D This chapter gave me a LOT of trouble, I hope you all like it. Please let me know what you think ♡ (Also I'm sorry if there's some typos still in the second half, I did not have the energy today to edit everything twice. I'll go over it again later and change what needs changing, I hope it's not too bad)

one more? | cardinal copia x gn!reader

Inspired by all the kiss prompts. This is for @leezlelatch ♡

content: 750 words, gn!reader, some suggestiveness and spice but nothing explicit, lots of kissing going on here, we get a little frisky

Masterlist – Ao3 link

✦ ✧ ✦

Lunch breaks are invariably too short. They feel even shorter since you spend them wrapped up in Copia’s cassocked arms, hidden away in an empty corner behind the entrance to the library. Your back is pressed against the cool stone walls, your habit disheveled from his wandering hands, leaving half of your leg exposed to the chill draft haunting this part of the abbey.

The cool air feels heavenly against your heated skin where Copia’s fingertips are trailing up to your hip and back down in a steady dance. It’s oddly tender compared to the way his mouth is so insistent on devouring you. You can only imagine the purple discolorations blooming on your neck right now, the smears of lipstick and bite marks he left in his impatient fervor after he’d pinned you to the wall.

The bells have long since chimed to announce the passing of lunch hour. He should be back in his office and you should be back behind the reception desk. And yet your arms are still tightly slung around his shoulders as his tongue licks into your hungry mouth.

“I have to go back,” he mumbles for the fifth time as he breaks away for air, trying to step back but you don’t let go of his neck. “Amore…”

With your hand in his hair, you press your mouth to his once again, ignoring his complaints. His biretta has long since fallen off his head and you make use of the easy access, dragging your nails over his scalp in the way that he loves so much. He moans loudly and kisses back for a moment, moving his swollen lips against yours just almost chastely now. With the kiss distracting you, his gloved fingers wrap around your wrists and he pulls them off of him, pretending to pin you to the wall. With your hands off, he tries to tear himself away once more, but your fingers grasp his pellegrina at the last second. You yank him back, bringing your mouth to his ear as he stumbles into you. “One more kiss? Please?”

“You want your Cardinal to be late?” he whispers, bracing himself against the wall behind you.

“Yes, if it means I get another kiss.”

“I will get in trouble, amore.” He drags his nose along your cheek before nuzzling yours. “Do you have no compassion for me?”

“No.”

He tsks, pulling back slightly when you try to capture his lips again. “So cruel. So cruel to your Cardinal and you claim to love me.”

“I do love you. That’s why I want another one, silly.” You try to pull at his robes again but he won’t budge. “Please please please.”

He whimpers softly. “You know what begging does to me, dolce.”

“Please. Please, Cardinal, I need one more.”

“One more, then you will let me go?”

“Mhm.”

He leans in, kissing you as softly as he can muster. You trap his full bottom lip between your teeth for a second and he groans, pressing in harder until the back of your head hits the wall again.  He pulls away with a desperate sigh and you whine at the loss of him.

“One more,” you beg, tugging at his robes.

“Amore,” he groans. “You are getting greedy now.”

“Isn’t greed a virtue?”

“I think you are mixing that up, no?”

He gives you another peck before he fully pulls away. You allow it this time, conceding in favor of your own reputation. Someone is going to want something from you any second now and you still have to get presentable.

Copia straightens his rumpled cassock before glancing at your ruined face with a smirk. “We continue this tonight, amore,” he promises. “You will bring the same hunger, yes?”

You nod, smiling like a fool when he winks at you. He almost stumbles over his own feet as he turns back around, still drunk on endorphins and your taste. A few deep breaths and you gather your wits before your eyes get caught by a red blob of color on the floor.

You pick up his biretta and put it on your head. He’s already halfway down the hall when you call out to him. “Looks like you forgot something, Cardinal.”

He spins around, the skirt of his cassock whirling around his legs. “Don’t even say it, amore.”

“You’re lucky,” you say with a grin. “Payment is very cheap today.”

 Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed ♡

Masterlist – My Ao3

I'm so deeply in love with this I never want this fic to end

I Knew Nothing But Shadows pt. 10

Chapter 10: Some Part Of Me Stayed Alive

CLICK HERE TO READ :)

Story Summary:

Curious circumstances and a questionable curse from your childhood led you to becoming the resident artist of the local Satanic Church – and a sinister night you’d truly rather forget. Years later, you’re presented with another chance at proving your artistic worth. Only this time, you’re kind of falling for the awkward anti-pope who sits for you and he is oddly interested in the intricacies of your past that you’re so desperately trying to hide. (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Summary:

Your quiet morning gets interrupted but that doesn’t stop you from making the best of the afternoon. Meanwhile, we learn more about your past.

Chapter Content: 12k words, spice!!! (thigh riding, hand job, they're getting frisky okay), a tiny bit of angst, lots of cuteness

SIDE NOTE: If you want to be tagged in chapters in the future pls let me know!! :)

Note that I switched the layout again because I figured from now on the chapter summaries might be too spoiler-y for people who have not caught up yet or maybe you just want to go in blind.

horny thoughts only

Ok @blacktie-whitenoise I went with Papa Copia and choice #1! But first we have to get through some phone sex oh noooo...

Ring, Ring

Papa Emeritus IV x Female Reader ~ Your work day is interrupted by a phone call from Copia

Warnings: phone sex, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex, nsfw, 18+ only, mdni, 2400 words

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

“Cardinal Alero’s office, how can I help you?”

“Do you have any idea how badly I want to fuck you right now?”  You froze at the sound of Copia’s voice.  It was dark and low, his breathing ragged.  The only time his voice got like this was when—  “Well, dolcezza?  Do you?”

With a quick glance over at Alero you cleared your throat before you answered. 

“Uh, I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I’ve been thinking about burying myself inside of you all day.”

Fucking hell.  

“Oh?  That’s too bad.”

“Si, it has made the day very interesting.  Long.  Hard.  If you understand me.”

“Yes!  Yes I understand.”

Very faintly you heard the sound of his belt clinking and the rustling of fabric.  Copia let out a loud groan and you could only guess he had taken himself in hand.  You spun your chair away from Alero’s desk so your back was to him.  It was doubtful the Cardinal had heard Copia, but you knew Copia was only going to get louder.  

He never was very good at keeping quiet. 

“I wonder what that old bastard would do if I were to come in there right now, oh cazzo, and bend you over your desk.”

You snuck another glance at Alero over your shoulder, freezing when you saw him watching you.  

“I, uh, don’t think he’d like that.”   Alero raised his eyebrow and you gave him a quick smile before spinning away.  “Can I call you back?”

“No.”  Copia’s chair creaked as he exhaled into the phone.  “I wouldn’t do that anyway, dolcezza.  I’d have to get you wet first.”

“Don’t worry Papa, that won’t be a problem.”  You squirmed in your seat, your body starting to respond to Copia’s words.  Vaguely you heard your name but you thought it was just Copia saying it under his breath.  “How about I bring you those files right now?”  

“Wet already?  What a naughty thing you are.  Are you having dirty thoughts about your Papa?”

“Yes, of course I am you idi—“

“Is that Papa?”  You yelped at the sound of Alero’s voice, jerking your head around to see him standing behind you.  When you nodded he reached out a hand and snapped his fingers.  “Give me the phone.”

“Do not give him the phone.  Tell him to fuck off.”

A somewhat delirious laugh left you and you covered the receiver with your hand. 

“Cardinal, Papa says not to worry.  He knows you’re busy.”  Copia snorted and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing as well.  “He appreciates your hard work.”

“The only thing that’s hard right now is my dick.”

Alero frowned down at you and you could tell he was debating if he should insist on the phone or just take the compliment and sit back down.  Thankfully he seemed to choose the latter, a smug smile on his face as he turned to go back to his chair.  You slipped your hand off the receiver and turned away from him once more.

“What else can I help you with Papa?”

“Tell me dolcezza, are you wearing underwear?”

“No, Papa.”

“Mmm, so you’re just sitting there, bare for your Papa?”  You hummed into the phone, spreading your legs a bit unconsciously.  “If I was there right now I’d slip my hand under your skirt, then push two fingers right into your needy cunt.  Because that’s what you are right now, eh dolcezza?  Needy for me?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Molto bene.  Soon I'd be able to fit a third inside of you and watch as you made a mess of my gloves.”  You thunked your head against the back of your chair, immediately sitting up again when you remembered you weren’t alone.  Copia let out a strangled moan and you winced, hoping Alero hadn’t heard it.  “Would you clean them for me?  If I shoved them into your mouth?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Brava ragazza.  You’d do anything I asked of you, wouldn’t you?”

“Anything, Papa.”

“Bene.  Then come here so I can fuck you.”

Copia hung up the phone and for a few seconds you just sat there staring at it.  When it started beeping you scrambled to get it back in its cradle while looking for something on your desk you could use as an excuse to go see Copia.  Alero cleared his throat and when you looked over at him he was scowling.

“What’s the problem?”

“I uh, need to bring some paperwork over to Papa.”

“Why can’t he send a ghoul to come get it?”

Goddammit Alero.

“I'm not sure.”  You grabbed a random stack of paper and hastily stood up.  “He needed them right away.”

“Fine, but don’t dawdle.  There’s still a lot of work to do.”

You nodded, biting down on your lip savagely before you retorted with ‘yes, your work’.  With quick steps you left the office and did your best not to run towards Copia’s.  At the end of the hallway you turned right but immediately had to stop as you ran into someone.

“Shit!”  Copia’s hands grabbed at your elbows to help keep you upright.  “What took so long?”

“I had to come up with an excuse for Alero!”  You slapped the papers onto Copia’s chest and pushed past him.  “Now hurry up.”

Copia chuckled as he quickly followed you, coming up to your side and grabbing your hand.  You knew if you looked at him he’d have that stupid, dopey smile on his face and you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop yourself from kissing him in the hallway if you saw it.  As you both rounded the last corner before his office you froze at the sight of Sister Imperator and Nihil waiting right outside his door.  Copia cursed under his breath and wrapped an arm around your waist, quickly tugging you back around the corner.

“Now what, Papa?”  Copia muttered something in Italian before starting to usher you across the hall towards a closet.  He ripped it open, gently pushing you inside before following and kicking the door shut.  You both stood there in the dark for a moment until you heard Copia make a small noise when he found the light switch.  As the room came into view in the dim light you sighed.  “You always take me to the nicest places.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s a closet.”

Copia rolled his eyes and started walking your way, you started to back up playfully but there really wasn’t anywhere to go.  Your butt hit a desk that was shoved up against the wall and Copia grabbed your waist, grunting as he lifted you up to sit on the edge.  He placed his hands on your knees, squeezing them as he grinned at you.

“Are you still wet for me, dolcezza?”

“Right now I’m mostly dusty.”

He started to respond but instead he had to turn his head away to sneeze.  You slapped your hand over your mouth to cover your laughter, trying to look innocent when he whipped his head back to glare at you.

“Sorry, Papa.”

“Uh, mi dispiace, this is not how I planned the afternoon to go.”

“Oh Copia, it’s ok.”  You reached up and brushed some of his graying hair off his forehead before cupping his cheek.  “This is still better than dealing with Alero.”

Copia laughed, leaning in to give you a lingering kiss on your mouth.  He nipped at your lips when he pulled away before resting his forehead against yours.

“Let’s see if we can get back on track, eh?”  He kissed you again and then dropped to his knees with a grunt.  His hands squeezed your calves briefly before they began to move up to your thighs.  The leather of his gloves was warm against your skin as he started to push your skirt up towards your waist.  He lowered his head to the inside of your knee, mouthing at the sensitive skin there for a moment before he looked towards your cunt and took a deep breath.  “It smells like you’re still wet for me, dolcezza.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, you just pulled your skirt up all the way to expose yourself.  His eyes darkened when you spread your legs and he was able to see your folds glistening even in the dim light.  Copia grabbed the bottom of your thighs and lifted your legs up so they hooked over his shoulders.  His hands moved down to grip your ass, holding you in place as he pressed his face against your cunt.  He took another deep breath, growling when you wriggled a bit.

“Copia, please.”

His tongue sliding between your lips was his only answer.  Slow laps across your cunt over and over again.  You placed your hand in his hair and held on as he continued to lap up your juices.  His moans were getting louder so you tugged his hair to try and get him to quiet down.  In retaliation he covered your cunt with his mouth, sucking hard and causing you to cry out.  You both froze, meeting each other’s eyes as you waited to see if anyone had heard you.

“Hush now, do you want the whole abbey to hear you?”

“How about you make me?” 

Copia nipped at the inside of your thigh and you barely held in your gasp.  Before you could snap at him he pulled your legs off his shoulders and stood up, leaning in to take your mouth in a hungry kiss.  You moaned as you tasted yourself, grabbing onto his vest to keep him in place.  He pulled you closer to the edge of the desk so he could grind his cock against you.  It was straining against the ties of his pants and you quickly dropped your hands down to start undoing them.

“Si, cazzo.  I need to be inside of you.”  While you struggled with the ties he pressed his fingers against your entrance, both of you groaning when two of them slid right in.  Copia bit his lip and rested his head against yours.  “I knew it.”

You finally got his pants undone and shoved down far enough to free his cock right when he started prodding a third finger at your entrance.  

“Now Copia, now please now.”  

He pulled his fingers out of you, swiping them quickly up and down his cock before he pressed forward.  You dropped your head onto his shoulder as he started pushing in.  As your body stretched around him you bit at his shirt to try to keep quiet.  He was relentless, not even pausing until he was all the way inside.  The material of his pants was rough against your thighs as he began to move his hips in a small circle.

“So wet, so tight for your Papa.”  You didn’t bother trying to respond, you knew if you opened your mouth no words would come out.  When he slid a hand into your hair and gently pulled your head back you couldn’t help but whimper.  “Let me see you.”

You both panted into each other's mouths as he let you get used to his cock.  He moved his hand out of your hair, stroking a thumb across your cheek before pressing a soft kiss onto your mouth.  You hummed against his lips, then took a deep breath as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Help me stay quiet.”

“Anything, dolcezza.”

Your mouths connected again in a clash of lips and teeth right as he pulled out and thrust back into your cunt.  His thrusts were hard and fast, neither one of you having the patience for anything else.  You nipped and sucked at each other’s mouth, Copia thrusting his tongue in time with his hips.  The slick sounds of both filled the air of the small room and even though your moans were muffled you knew that anyone walking by would be able to hear you both.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

The edge was coming quickly, your orgasm ready to tear through you as Copia angled his thrusts so his cock brushed against that sweet spot inside of you.  With the way his movements were becoming more frantic you knew he was close as well.  He broke away from your mouth and you forced your eyes open so you could look into his mismatched ones.  

“Are you close, dolcezza?”  His voice was wrecked and his makeup an absolute mess.  You tried to speak but all you could do was whimper and clutch at his shoulders.  “Are you going to come on my cock?”

You managed a nod, your mouth opening in a silent scream when he brought a hand to your cunt and started rubbing his thumb around your clit.  That was the end for you, he kissed you again right as your orgasm ripped through your body, muffling both of your moans as he came as well.  He continued to thrust as his cock kicked and emptied inside of you before finally stilling, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close.  After a moment you finally found the energy to speak and lifted your head off his shoulder.

“I don’t want to go back.”  

Copia opened his mouth to respond but he immediately scrunched his face up, turning away right before a sneezing fit overtook him.  He stumbled back a few steps, pulling out of you quickly and making you gasp.  You looked around for something he could wipe his nose with, finally seeing a roll of paper towels on a shelf nearby.  With a wince you hopped off the table, grabbing a few towels and shoving them his way while you took a few to clean yourself up.  When you finished you turned to check on Copia, smiling when you found him staring at you and pouting.

“I wanted to do that.”  You mimicked his pout, laughing as he reached for you and yanked you close.  “That’s my favorite part.”

“Ugh Copia, you’re so weird.”

“But yet here you are, enjoying the finest closet our church has to offer.”  He leaned down to give you a quick kiss, before pulling away to look at you with a raised eyebrow.  “You can’t go back to work like this.”

“Definitely not.”

“No, you should come to my quarters instead.  I need your help with something else.”

“Anything, Papa.”  He grinned at you, that infectious smile of his sending a thrill through you like it always did.  You reached up to smooth some of his hair back as you returned his smile.  “Anything.”

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

my masterlist

my ao3

one more? | cardinal copia x gn!reader

Inspired by all the kiss prompts. This is for @leezlelatch ♡

content: 750 words, gn!reader, some suggestiveness and spice but nothing explicit, lots of kissing going on here, we get a little frisky

Masterlist – Ao3 link

✦ ✧ ✦

Lunch breaks are invariably too short. They feel even shorter since you spend them wrapped up in Copia’s cassocked arms, hidden away in an empty corner behind the entrance to the library. Your back is pressed against the cool stone walls, your habit disheveled from his wandering hands, leaving half of your leg exposed to the chill draft haunting this part of the abbey.

The cool air feels heavenly against your heated skin where Copia’s fingertips are trailing up to your hip and back down in a steady dance. It’s oddly tender compared to the way his mouth is so insistent on devouring you. You can only imagine the purple discolorations blooming on your neck right now, the smears of lipstick and bite marks he left in his impatient fervor after he’d pinned you to the wall.

The bells have long since chimed to announce the passing of lunch hour. He should be back in his office and you should be back behind the reception desk. And yet your arms are still tightly slung around his shoulders as his tongue licks into your hungry mouth.

“I have to go back,” he mumbles for the fifth time as he breaks away for air, trying to step back but you don’t let go of his neck. “Amore…”

With your hand in his hair, you press your mouth to his once again, ignoring his complaints. His biretta has long since fallen off his head and you make use of the easy access, dragging your nails over his scalp in the way that he loves so much. He moans loudly and kisses back for a moment, moving his swollen lips against yours just almost chastely now. With the kiss distracting you, his gloved fingers wrap around your wrists and he pulls them off of him, pretending to pin you to the wall. With your hands off, he tries to tear himself away once more, but your fingers grasp his pellegrina at the last second. You yank him back, bringing your mouth to his ear as he stumbles into you. “One more kiss? Please?”

“You want your Cardinal to be late?” he whispers, bracing himself against the wall behind you.

“Yes, if it means I get another kiss.”

“I will get in trouble, amore.” He drags his nose along your cheek before nuzzling yours. “Do you have no compassion for me?”

“No.”

He tsks, pulling back slightly when you try to capture his lips again. “So cruel. So cruel to your Cardinal and you claim to love me.”

“I do love you. That’s why I want another one, silly.” You try to pull at his robes again but he won’t budge. “Please please please.”

He whimpers softly. “You know what begging does to me, dolce.”

“Please. Please, Cardinal, I need one more.”

“One more, then you will let me go?”

“Mhm.”

He leans in, kissing you as softly as he can muster. You trap his full bottom lip between your teeth for a second and he groans, pressing in harder until the back of your head hits the wall again.  He pulls away with a desperate sigh and you whine at the loss of him.

“One more,” you beg, tugging at his robes.

“Amore,” he groans. “You are getting greedy now.”

“Isn’t greed a virtue?”

“I think you are mixing that up, no?”

He gives you another peck before he fully pulls away. You allow it this time, conceding in favor of your own reputation. Someone is going to want something from you any second now and you still have to get presentable.

Copia straightens his rumpled cassock before glancing at your ruined face with a smirk. “We continue this tonight, amore,” he promises. “You will bring the same hunger, yes?”

You nod, smiling like a fool when he winks at you. He almost stumbles over his own feet as he turns back around, still drunk on endorphins and your taste. A few deep breaths and you gather your wits before your eyes get caught by a red blob of color on the floor.

You pick up his biretta and put it on your head. He’s already halfway down the hall when you call out to him. “Looks like you forgot something, Cardinal.”

He spins around, the skirt of his cassock whirling around his legs. “Don’t even say it, amore.”

“You’re lucky,” you say with a grin. “Payment is very cheap today.”

 Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed ♡

Masterlist – My Ao3

Overview of My Writing ♡

My Ao3 ⛧ My Ko-Fi ⛧ Not Ghost ⛧ @ibikus (my main) This blog is 18+ only, MDNI

Recent Works

Bound by Lace (cardinal copia x f!reader, smut, 18+, MDNI)

No Games (tero x gn!reader, kiss ficlet)

One More (cardinal copia x gn!reader, kiss ficlet)

multichapter fics:

⛧ I Knew Nothing but Shadows (ongoing, 8/?) (only on Ao3, 18+ MDNI, f!reader, artist!reader slow-burn with horror/mystery elements) – Check out the amazing fanart to the story here, here and here ♡

one-shots:

⛧ Honey and Venom (on Ao3, 9.5k words, f!reader, 18+, MINORS DNI, Or: The four times you fell for your best friend without noticing and the one time you did.)

⛧ A Lesson In Patience (8k words, Ao3 only, f!reader, soft dom!copia smut, 18+, MINORS DNI)

ficlets, drabbles, headcanons:

⛧ Rough Day (on Ao3, 1k words, f!reader)

⛧ Let Me Help (on Ao3, 2k words, gn!reader, helping Papa do his make-up)

⛧ Don't Make Me Wait (on Ao3, 1.5k words, f!reader, dom!copia, 18+, MDNI)

⛧ Analogue Date Nights and Polaroids (short headcanon after chapter 16)

multichapter fics:

⛧ Dance Macabre (completed 4/4) (only on Ao3, 15k words, f!reader, 18+, MINORS DNI)

one-shots:

⛧ 5 Types of Christmas Kisses with Copia (+1) (on Ao3, 8k words, f!reader, festive fluff)

⛧ A Message from the Bulletin Board (on Ao3, 9k words, gn!reader, Copia posts a lonely hearts ad, sickening fluff ensues)

ficlets, drabbles, headcanons:

⛧ How it Feels (on Ao3, 2k words, hurt/comfort, tw: body issues, gn!reader)

⛧ Spring Walk (on Ao3, 1.4k words, anxiety comfort, gn!reader)

⛧ Ouch (on Ao3, 1.3k words, gn!reader, fluff)

⛧ One More (on Ao3, 750 words, gn!reader, lots of kissing)

⛧ Bound by Lace (on Ao3, 2.8k words, f!reader, dom pervy cardinal smut, 18+, MDNI)

⛧ Date Night Polaroids

ficlets, drabbles, headcanons:

⛧ No Games (on Ao3, 1.6k words, gn!reader, friends to lovers ficlet)

one-shots:

⛧ Unprecedented (on Ao3, 12.7k words, gn!reader, 18+, MDNI, Or: The four times you almost get Secondo to admit his feelings and the one time you succeed)

ficlets, drabbles, headcanons:

⛧ His Body and Blood (on Ao3, 2.6k words, gn!reader, ANGST, you try to resurrect secondo, contains gore/horror elements)

⛧ Starved (on Ao3, 1.6k words, afab!reader, 18+, MDNI, just smut)

⛧ Dough (a suggestive drabble + tasty-ribz's art)

one-shots:

⛧ Friday Nights at the Cinema Club (on Ao3, 14k words, vampire!primo, gn!reader, romance, horror, smut, 18+, MDNI) – See this amazing fanart to the fic ♡

ficlets, drabbles, headcanons:

⛧ The Devil's Ivy (on Ao3, 900 words, gn!reader, wholesome fluff)

any or multiple Papas:

⛧ Soft, Sleepy Sex with the Papas (on Ao3, 4.8k words in total, 1k-1.4k for each Papa, f!reader, 18+, MDNI)

⛧ Ghosting (on Ao3, 2.5k words, any Papa x gn!reader, sick care ficlet)

⛧ Coffee HCs for the Papas (+ tasty-ribz's art)

multichapter fics:

⛧ Ziplocked Love | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (on Ao3, 20k words total, dew x f!reader, 18+, MINORS DNI, completed)

recommendations:

If you need any fic recs in the Ghost fandom you can click here to see all the ones I shared or click here to see my favorite Ao3 fics! Find some amazing fanart here!

If you want to support me, please consider reblogging my work, leaving comments or kudos :)