#Caretakers Emeritus

[sublimegentlemanalpaca]

wondering how fantastic the Halloween decorations at Tamerlane House must be. They’ve got to all out right? Quality and excess being the main tenets and all? Make of that what you will

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 2nd

Titfucking, Papa Emeritus I x Plus Size!Reader

Masterlist

Words: 2.2k.

Warnings: Titfucking; established relationship; plus size!Reader; fem!Reader; young!Reader (21+); dom!Primo; elderly!Primo; huge age gap (talking minimum 30 years); groping; body worship; fat appreciation; salirophilia; cunnilingus; praise kink; naked woman clothed man; cum eating; cum swap;

Author's note: Hello! I just wanted to pop in and say thank you so, so much for all the support for day 1! It's been really overwhelming (in a positive way), and it means a lot. I can't wait to share with you all the other fics I have planned for the rest of the month!

🔞 MDNI 🔞

You were a pretty young thing - you always had been. You had caught so many eyes since your time at the Ministry began, it had become countless. Over the years, you had also pursued many professions within the Ministry, but your last job had landed you in the lap of the lap of the second-oldest luxury within those Hellish walls - personal assistant and caretaker to none other than Papa Emeritus I.

He wasn’t the reigning Papa anymore, it was his youngest brother, Terzo, who held that title. You weren’t even born when Primo was the Head of the Satanic Church. You weren’t even sure your parents were. Needless to say, the old man had been around for quite a bit and it was now your job to make sure his retirement was as comfortable as it could be. Most days were filled with mundane tasks, like giving him his food and beverages when he asked for them and couldn’t or wouldn’t go down to the cafeteria and get them, or helping him in his garden when he needed the extra pair of hands. Some days he just wanted a bit of company from someone who didn’t forget about him. But there were days when a little more effort was required on your part, when the old man proved that he was still young at heart and, well, other places too. The days when he craved the warmth of another person, or the weight of someone else in his ridiculously soft bed.

That day you and Primo were to be in his greenhouse to reorganise and restock a bunch of his natural pesticides and food waste fertilizer besides other things. It was a bi-monthly thing that would take the whole day if you were quick, the whole weekend if you weren’t trying to rush. Because Primo couldn’t manage it anymore, you were tasked with running back and forth between his greenhouse and the kitchen with the food waste for the compost heap, which is how you ended up red-faced and sweaty at the door to the greenhouse, your black habit now two shades of black given the amount you’d perspired. The already clingy garment was now glued to your skin and leaving nothing to the imagination. And the look in Primo’s eyes told you that he certainly was imagining something.

It wasn’t the first time you’d caught anyone staring at your chest, Papas included. Your entire body was voluptuous enough to be downright sinful, and it was difficult for certain members of the Clergy to keep their eyes and hands off you. The Ministry loved rejecting societal norms outside of their Satanic walls, and in most people’s eyes - Primo’s included - you were perfect. You were always at the forefront of Primo’s mind when he wanted to share his bed with another person. Sometimes, the sight of your body jiggling as you walked down stairs was the reason for his sudden animalistic behaviour, and he’d pull you into a nearby broom closet and have his wicked way with you. But he certainly wasn’t listening to you as you spoke.

“Papa?” You said, waving your hand in front of his face. Not too close to be obnoxious, but close enough to grab his attention to the appropriate place. “Earth to Papa? Come in, Papa.”

“Mi dispiace, fiorellina. My mind was elsewhere.”

“Your eyes were too.”

Papa shot you a look of disapproval for your cheek, but you just smiled in response. “Please tell me again what you were saying.”

“That’s everything from the kitchens now, Papa. Is there anything else you would like me to do before lunch.”

“Ah - sì, ancora una cosa. Sit on the table over there and spread your legs for me, please.”

“Papa?”

“Fiorellina, you know what you do to this old man. How tempting you are on the average day. But today you look, divino, mozzafiato, empio, praticamente peccaminoso. I would like to worship you as the Goddess Sathanas made you as before I take my pleasures from you. Is this acceptable?”

“Yes, Papa.”

His mature hands took your face in his grasp. “Brava ragazza. Now, sit se tu per favore. And remove your undergarments too, I would like to dive right in.”

You did as he asked, removing your panties and sitting on the table, resting the heels of your feet on the edge and giving Primo the best access to your cunt as possible. Though the way he was staring at your folds was like a wolf staring at his lunch had your insides quivering, you weren’t particularly wet for him, or ready for anything else he had planned. But this was Papa Primo you were about to give access to, and he was the most considerate of your pleasure before his own. You knew that he would take however long he needed to getting you to cum for him. He removed his Mitre from his head and delicately placed it on the chair across from him, before hiking up his robes and sitting himself down in front of his second meal of the day.

“Lie back.” He said softly. “Be comfortable.”

This allowed your legs to stretch a little more and your body to relax while he took his time with you. He first placed kisses to your calves - gentle, soft pecks that were barely there, but sporadically timed so you didn’t know when they’d land. His fingertips delicately caressed any exposed flesh he could reach, adding another layer of sensation to the already soft touches. Though, you knew your thighs would be painted black and white from his paints transferring.

“Always so good for your Papa.” He whispered, his deep voice gravelly with decades of use. “Always so obedient and helpful.” His lips now had moved up to your pubic mound. You could feel his breath flow between your folds before he’d placed a kiss just above them, making you shiver in anticipation for that final touch.

Papa, at times, felt like a walking stereotype given his unmatched patience and languid movements. He liked to blame his age, but you knew he enjoyed torturing you slowly, like he was sustained from your frustrations alone. And so, when you had grown impatient and considered sitting up to tell him to let you please him instead, his tongue finally made contact. But this time it had no softness to it - this time he was brutal in his movements.

The initial lick was broad and rough, causing you to scream out unexpectedly. But this was soon followed by his lips suctioning themselves around your clit and sucking as hard as he could, giving you overwhelming pleasure that bordered on pain. With his mouth still closed around your clit, the tip of his tongue continued to work it in multiple directions, almost erratic with his ministrations. He continued like this for what seemed like eternity; his head even moving in all directions when he sucked on your sensitive bud to keep your pleasure as lively as possible. Even when your hands flew to his bald head and your hips buck, he remained face-first in your core, unrelenting and unwilling to stop until you reached your peak.

“P-Papa!” You breathed, your body feeling like it was on fire. Your hands shifted from his head to pinch and play with your clothed nipples. “I’m so close, please - fuck! - Please don’t stop!”

Primo only grunted in response, adding a little extra vibration when he did. He refused to stop what he was doing because he knew you’d lose that feeling. Instead, he upped his movements and heightened the intensity, causing you to finally tip over the edge and climax all over his face. Your back arched and your mouth fell open, with a string of expletives tumbling out of it. And Primo only stopped when you sat up and pushed him away.

He certainly was a sight to see emerging from your wetness; his paint around his mouth had completely dissolved, showing you his swollen pink lips, soiled with your cunt. There was a lazy smile on his face, and a cackle in his throat. He very much looked like the cat that got the cream, and he was obviously proud of it. You could see his hard cock poking out from underneath his robe, begging for attention, and so you reached your hand out to move his clothes and get to it. But his own hand stopped you.

“I don’t want your hand today, fiorellina.” As you stood from the table, he wrapped his hands around your soft waist and pulled you between his spread legs. “I want these,” he placed one kiss on your clothed breast, “and only these.” He then kissed the second one. “Undress yourself completely for me.”

He let you go and sat back in the chair, relaxing with his legs spread and his mismatched eyes watching you strip for him. Your black habit was thrown carelessly to the floor of the greenhouse, leaving you only wearing a useless black bra. Papa moved his robes, hissing softly as his hard cock was rubbed against by the satin, but his eyes remained on you, observing as your bra was removed and your breasts bounced at their newfound freedom. It was no surprise to you that Primo was ready to go - he hated wearing anything underneath his official robes. He once joked about being Scottish in another life.

“Sempre così squisita, fiorellina. Bellissima. Come, get on your knees for Papa.”

Using his thighs as leverage, you lowered yourself to the floor in front of Primo and his waiting cock. “Only my tits, Papa? Not my mouth?”

“Just those beautiful breasts of yours. Papa needs to be in between them.” You nodded and cupped them both, before wrapping them around Primo’s hardness and began rubbing them up and down. This earned you a groan from the back of Primo’s throat, and his head tipped back in pleasure. “Just like that, fiorellina.”

You were used to your partners being expletive during any pleasure you gave them, but Primo was still very much an old man set in his ways. He wouldn’t be so impolite in front of a young woman. It didn’t matter to him if you uttered vulgarity, but he would never allow himself to show you any such disrespect.

“Does it feel good, Papa?” You asked, your big, doe eyes looking up at him innocently. Looking at you then, on your knees looking like an angel for him, giving him more pleasure than he could ever imagine had his cock jumping in between your tits. He couldn’t help it. You were doing something so damnable, but you looked so pure.

He groaned again. “Nothing has ever f-felt better.” His hand cupped your chin as he watched you move. “I have wanted to do-” another moan, “-this since you first c-came back from the kitchens. How your breasts bounced as you walked.”

“Sathanas made me to please you, Papa. He made me to reward you.”

Primo’s hips began bucking. “Stay still for me, fiorellina.”

You could feel your cunt growing wet again watching Primo fuck your tits as if it were your pussy. With that thought in mind, you leaned your head over his cock and allowed as much saliva as you could create to spill from your lips and land directly onto the head. “Sathanas!” Primo hissed as he watched your tits and his shaft get coated in your spit. “Walking temptation. A succubus. Let me see you - do it again.”

You obliged, the valley in between your tits now getting slicker and slicker with his precum and your spit. The noise he made was guttural, and his thrusts became faster but still precise. Every now and then, you would let out a moan, knowing that Papa would appreciate you for it.

“I think about letting you do this all the time, Papa. I touch myself thinking about it.”

You could see his resolve weakening. “Y-you do?”

“I do. I love that it makes you feel good. I love making you feel good, Papa. I’m always so wet whenever I think about it.”

Primo nodded and bit his lip. His brow furrowed in concentration. “You’re wet again now aren’t you?”

“I am, Papa. I’m so wet for you. I want you to cum all over my tits so I can ride you - make you cum inside me.”

He couldn’t stop himself. “Fuck!”

Your eyes widened in shock but you didn’t address it. He seemed to be oblivious to the fact that he said it. “Are you close, Papa?”

“Sì, fiorellina. Sono - ah! - Sono pronto.”

“I want your cum so bad, Papa. Please cum for me. Cum on my tits.”

With a final grunt, Primo came at your request, his warm seed painting your chest like a canvas. You kept your breasts wrapped around him until he stopped moving and sat there breathing heavily. When you were sure he was watching, you brought your hands up and ran them through his cum, gathering it on your fingers and licking it off.

“Piccolo diavolo.”

Without swallowing, you straddled his lap and kissed him, passing his cum from your mouth to his. He then swallowed his own load, before dropping his mouth to your chest and licking up what remained of him. “Grazie, fiorellina. Though I fear I may need to bury myself inside you in a moment.”

“I’m ready when you are.” You told him before giving him another kiss.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[jossambird]

Rooted in your love - P7: Forlorn Hope

Cardinal Copia x F!Reader - Primo x F!Reader, Secondo x F!Reader, Terzo x F!Reader

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Mature. Hanahaki Disease and all that comes with that (choking, being sick, acceptance of death, etc), Eventual Smut, Eventual 18+ acts, Angst, Unrequited Love.

Fic Summary: You couldn't pinpoint when exactly you had fallen in love with the newly arrived Cardinal, but one was certain: you had Hanahaki disease.

Chapter summary: As Primo and Secondo reflect on the events of the day, Copia decides to seek you out, only to be confronted by the one appointed to guard you. Terzo soaks in your radiance.

A03 link, to read all previous chapters and chapter 7! (Or masterlist on profile!)

Song Inspiration for Rooted In Your Love 💕

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Primo sighed heavily from where he sat, eyes roaming over every single item you had ever given him as his mind continued to run itself in circles. Full glad was he of your awakening, yes, heart already feeling lighter after seeing your beautiful smile aimed at him so easily after waking… yet an uneasy feeling settled within his bones, gnawing at his senses.

Something in your eyes had seemed… off. Never had he seen such a look in your eyes, your normally mesmerizing gaze appearing… well, almost as if you had experienced something whilst deeply asleep, something that, even now, lingered over your conscious shoulder like a specter, ready to strike. He knew not if you had dreamt during the time you slumbered in his bed, or if total darkness of the mind had been the only thing you had experienced, but something more than your current state had caused that look in your eyes. How true the saying was, that the eyes were the windows to one’s soul.

The retired Papa Emeritus I leaned back in his armchair, ungloved hands flexing at the memory of your visage as you’d spoken of going to fetch Secondo; you mustn’t have known how anxious you had outwardly appeared, your expression reminding him of what a child who feared being seen looked like-

“Perhaps you were always destined to fail, son of Emeritus…” A voice whispered against the shell of his ear, the sound almost resembling that of wind passing through a graveyard, bringing with it the lingering feeling of dread and despair.

“Fail as a Papa…”

Primo dared not open his eyes, for he knew what an entity such as this sought.

“Fail as a friend…”

It sought to drive him mad, drive him to insanity.

“Fail as…”

It sought to dig its taloned nails into his clavicle-

“… her caretaker…”

It laughed lowly, a guttural sound that came from deep within the chasm of its body, or whatever was left of it, Primo surmised by the lack of sound as it moved to his other ear.

“Your father always thought the Emeritus Eye was a blessing…” It continued, louder this time, closer to his ear as its decayed fingers carded through his blond hair before tugging harshly, causing Primo to inhale sharply as his head hit the back of his armchair, attempting to trick the Papa into opening his eyes.

“He never once considered that it would become a curs-“

Primo awoke suddenly with a gasp, dissimilar eyes shooting open whilst his head shot forward, surveying the area surrounding him for too long of a moment before finally allowing himself to sigh. A dream, it had only been a dream.

What a crock of shit it was, to become old. Why had his body chosen now, of all times, to fall asleep? Furthermore, how long had he been asleep for?

A quick glance at the clock informed him it had only been 11 minutes since you had departed to fetch Secondo… surely you must have made your way to his side already, unless you had-

The eldest Emeritus son stood hurriedly at the thought, groaning moments after as his back protested such a quick movement while running on so little sleep.

He knew not what had shaken you so during your slumber but back pain and ghosts be damned, he would find out what it was.

_________________

Secondo soundlessly stood in the kitchens, shoulders sagged as he continued to warm up the supper he had quickly made for both he and Primo.

He was loath to admit it, but his elder brother had been right: no matter how much time he spent at your side, nothing would come of it were he to let himself waste away.

How was he to protect and help you if he were not healthy himself? He sighed once again, slight irritation prickling at his skin as he continued to stir the pasta he had made, mismatched eyes focused on the task at hand-

A sudden movement to his right caused the man to hiss in annoyance, sneering as he turned to see what, or who, had disturbed him.

There, standing frozen like a metal pole in the cold, stood the Sister of Sin he had fucked all those days ago, staring at him with wide eyes.

Briefly, for a mere second, Secondo mulled over the idea of speaking to the Sister, albeit having no real desire to. It was his role as a Papa however, to see to his flock’s concerns, no matter how unwilling he may feel about it. Sure he was known to be rough, serious, even, but there was one thing he was not: he, Papa Emeritus II, was not a bad Papa. No, he was not his Father.

However, displeasure still roiled inside the man at the thought of potentially having to listen to her beg him to fuck her again, something that would never happen ever agai-

The Sister turned and ran, the sound of her footsteps loud as she retreated to who-knows-where. Had it been tears he had seen in her eyes? Had the woman truly begun to cry at the mere sight of him? A scoff exited from between his lips at the Sister’s actions.

The retired Papa wondered if jealously coursed through her veins at the rumors of you being his Prime Mover.

Well… Of course she’d be jealous, it had been your name that he had accidentally gasped out while cumming all over her backside.

How could he not have said it, when it had only been you he had thought about during the whole thing, crying out his name as he made love to you, venerated you like a Deity fallen to Earth?

How could he have not have said your name, when it was the only name he wished to speak until his dying breath?

But most of all: how could he not have whispered it out, when your visage, illuminated by the sunsets light, was (and still is) the only thing that he saw when he closed his eyes?

It was only seconds later did a second hiss escape the man, unceremoniously pulled out of his mind, this time due to the acrid smell of burnt pasta flooding his nostrils.

If any living being within the Abbey had heard Papa Emeritus II cursing heavily in Italian about pasta or the sound of a pot being thrown across the kitchen, they knew to forget of the incident immediately.

_________________

Dreams were an ephemeral thing; in the blink of an eye, they would be gone. Mere images and scenarios conjured by the mind, yet at the same time, deep realms of misunderstood knowledge that only few knew how to navigate. Copia was not one of those people. Once sleep found him, nothing could save him from the dreams or nightmares that would haunt and taunt him with things he couldn’t have. Namely, those ‘things’ were you.

Now fully awake for no apparent reason, Copia sighed in frustration, staring at his ceiling, as if it would reveal to him secrets unimaginable to man on how to fall asleep again… or how to win the Sibling of Sin of your dreams, who seems to be followed constantly by two of your ‘bosses’.

Tonight he’d dreamt of something new, something he had never dreamt about- well, partly never dreamt about. You he had dreamt about a thousand if not a million of times, sure. The area in which his dream had taken place? Never had he dreamt of you in such a setting.

There you had sat, hand playing against his clothed thigh, the eerie atmosphere of the mausoleum in which the two of you sat felt.. stifling, as if you both sat in a crowded room. He could no longer remember if he had gazed upon your beautiful visage or if he had simply stared at your hand, inching dangerously close up his thigh. You hadn’t spoken and neither had he, yet the silence between the two of you felt loud, the sound of your thoughts practically deafening. It had only been once he thought of how hard his cock had become that the dream had begun to fade. Oh how he craved to know if you had ever felt even an inkling of what he felt for you for him.

How many times had he awoken during long nights to find his cock painfully hard, fingers already moving to relieve himself of said pressure? How many nights had he laid there in his bed, eyes shut as he imagined it to be you instead touching him, jerking him off into oblivion, hushed words of love spoken against his ear? The thought always made him flush, to imagine you between his legs. Oh how beautiful you would look, eyes watching him as you got him closer and closer towards the edge. He wondered how long it would take for the sound of your moans to fill his room, should it be him between your thighs.

He would always keen your name while half-mindedly wondering if the Ghouls could hear him through his chamber’s walls, whispering your name like a God whispered to its creations, love overflowing. Could they hear how desperate he became with each second that went by, hands working his cock faster and faster, imagining the way you would bounce in his lap, pushing him down into his sheets as you took your pleasure from his body? Would you allow him to flip the both of you over, pounding into your heated core as words of veneration and love spilt from his lips?

Copia forced his legs to swing over the side of his bed, heart pounding as he tried to think of anything other than the image of you under him, calling his name. No, such thoughts would remain in his bed; for now, he was on a mission.

A mission to see you.

—————————

The Ghoul known as Phil already knew of the man’s state before seeing him; he could practically smell the desperation and worry wafting off the Cardinal as he approached the corridor leading to Papa Emeritus I’s chambers, which he stood guard of.

It was almost ridiculous the number of times he had caught the man lingering near the corridor leading to Primo’s chambers, always visibly attempting to psych himself up before abandoning whatever endeavor he’d set himself on entirely, returning to his own chambers like a kicked little puppy. The pungent scents of shame and humiliation would cling to the man for hours after, irritating the Ghoul’s nose and senses.

He of course wasn’t a fool; he knew why the Cardinal roamed the halls leading to Primo’s doors. His nose had already told him as much, not to mention the lovesick expression he perpetually seemed to wear everyday; It was practically imprinted in the Ghoul’s mind.

Phil decided to cut the human some slack, for once, calling out to man down the hallway.

“Trouble sleeping again, Cardinal?”

The sound exiting from down the darkened hallway scared the Cardinal out of his skin; he had thought himself alone to be awake at this godforsaken hour. Of course the Special Ghoul would still be at his post, guarding Papa Emeritus I’s doors like a hawk, ready to lash out and kill if need be.

“Y-Yes, eh, trouble sleeping-“ Copia tried as he approached the demon from Hell itself, words immediately dying within his throat as the Ghoul spoke over him, his tone amused but serious.

“Am I correct in assuming that it is not by happenstance that you find yourself once more outside of Papa Emeritus I’s doors?” Ominous were the green eyes that gleamed within the dark, practically unblinking, waiting for an answer. The thought of lying to the Ghoul once more quickly came to the Cardinal’s mind, however… lying would not get him an audience with Primo, let alone.. an audience with you.

“No.. I…” Copia attempted to try and find the right words to express his burning need to see you, heart beating heavily against his chest. Would the Ghoul even tell him if your situation had gotten worse? Sure he had spoken to the Ghoul in the past and had friendly(-ish) rapports with him, but who was he himself to you, except for a strange stranger?

A silent moment went by, the Ghoul’s stare continuous and as deep as before, equally silent as he awaited for the man before him to speak. The Cardinal squared his shoulders, despite the dreadful feeling of raw desperation ravaging at his insides, and spoke.

“No, it is not. May I know if Sorel- if Papa Emeritus II’s Prime Mover has awoken?”

Phil paused at Copia’s words, tail slowly beginning to swish behind him in mild annoyance.

He found the man’s words strange; when had you no longer become deserving of your very name, instead simply called by your (rumored) newfound role? The Ghoul doubted it to be out of malice; he could smell the man’s fear, his hesitation, the raw nervousness that rolled off of his skin. It smelt sour, nearly strong enough for the Demon to lean away from the Cardinal, unwilling to be subjected to the scents of his emotional rollercoaster. But even if not spoken with malicious intent, the aloof Cardinal’s words still aggravated him.

“Sorella Y/N has left Papa Emeritus I’s chambers.”

Silence.

Copia blinked absentmindedly, wondering if he had heard the Ghoul correctly. You had left? You were no longer asleep? When had you-

“L-left- Where is- Sh-“ Try as he might to speak, Copia found his throat constricting closed, brain unable to process the information that not only had you awoken from whatever it was that had plagued you, but that you had awoken AND had already left the protected sanctuary that was Primo’s roo-

Eyes wide, Copia glanced at the imposing doors behind the Ghoul’s back, wanting to burst in and demand answers from the Papa who had been at your side this whole time… who was still supposed to be at your side, right?

“Where is Papa Emeritus I? Where is Primo?”

It was now Phil’s turn to blink, lips pursing behind his mask, unwilling to answer the man. He knew what the Cardinal would do if he told him that Papa Emeritus I had just left in search of you, and if he were right about the scent he had picked up emanating from your body the day you had fallen unconscious, perhaps allowing the Cardinal to do whatever he liked could lead to your demise.

“Both Papa Emeritus I and Sorella Y/N have gone out into Papa’s gardens on the South side of the Ministry, for some fresh air.” Phil easily lied, watching as the man’s mismatched eyes widened, the sound of his heart beginning to beat erratically against his chest, almost as if practically threatening to burst out. For a moment, a brief, sliver of a moment, Phil the Special Ghoul wondered if he had been right in lying to the Cardinal.

As he watched the human man begin to hastily walk away after speaking a quick ‘grazie’, he wondered if perhaps he had just wrongfully redirected the only things that could save you from the bloody flowers that grew within your lungs.

“Cardinal! One moment, if you please.”

“Sì?” Copia stopped and turned, politely waiting as the Ghoul attempted to find the right words without letting on WHY he was asking.

“Are you familiar with flowers in the Narcissus family? Such as daffodils and jonquils?” Phil found himself asking, mind entirely blank as the very words left from between his unglamored gray lips.

Had he just asked that-

Once more did the Ghoul’s tail begin to move from where it had laid on the floor, however, this time, in agitation of his own actions. He shouldn’t have asked that.

Suddenly, the Special Ghoul found himself wondering who would torture him first between Papa Emeritus I or Papa Emeritus II, for having possibly just hinted at your condition to another being, even after they had both explicitly made him vow to keep it a secret-

“Daffodils and jonquils?” Copia repeated, confused at the Ghoul’s bizarre words.

“I am familiar with them, yes, though I am unsure if I would be able to distinguish them both.” A slight confused smile graced Copia’s lips as he tried to ponder on the meaning of the demon’s words.

Sweat began to bead along the Ghoul’s forehead; here Copia had simply been, worried and seeking to speak with you, while he- Phil breathed in, eyes slightly widening at the thought. Oh, perfect.

“I see. I.. simply thought it wise to warn you that if you were to pluck such flowers out of Papa Emeritus I’s gardens for a quick… bouquet, I believe Sorella Y/N would be most unhappy as they are.. not her favored flowers.” He easily lied with the emotion necessary, bowing his head in feigned embarrassment. The sweat rolling down his temple felt cold, just like his blood would surely feel should either Papas find out of his slip-up.

Copia’s visage lit up like a sky filled with fireworks, eyes sparkling as he shot forward to touch the Ghoul’s shoulder, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“Grazie mille, Special Ghoul! Truly, grazie!”

The Cardinal departed hurriedly, almost appearing like he wanted to run to your ‘whereabouts’ but was attempting to remain calm. As soon as his figure disappeared once more around the corner he had come from, the Special Ghoul known as Phil turned, silently cracking open the door to Papa Emeritus I’s chambers.

There it was again, the inexplicably heavy fragrance of Daffodils and Jonquils.

But also, the scent of…

Phil sniffed the air again, luminous green eyes unseeing as his mind attempted to place just where he had become familiar with such a sme-

Suddenly, the Special Ghoul understood as his mind placed where he had smelt such a scent, the hand that lay against the doorknob tightening momentarily before falling away. Oh, how cruel.

Phil knew that soon, nothing of you would remain but the memory of your name.

Yes, your name deserved to be remembered.

—————————

“Terzo.” You silently whispered into the space between the both of you, mind forgetting just how intimate of a position you would appear to be in, should anyone possibly pass by and see the two of you. The only response you received from the man was a brief hum, enough of a sound to let you know he had heard you and was listening, forehead still pressed to your own as the both of you swayed to a song none of you could hear.

“Why is it that you kissed me?”

Even with his eyes closed, the raven-haired Papa knew that your smile radiated warmth and kindness as you awaited his answer, with a patience he felt he did not deserve. It almost felt like an omen, that someone like you would be dealt such a curse, that the very love you felt for someome within the Abbey corroded your body from the inside out, a vicious poison that sought to destroy you, it’s kind and beautiful vessel. Oh, how he wished for his kiss to have worked.

As your words sunk into Terzo’s very marrow, he found himself unable to fully look at you yet. Unwilling, perhaps, was the better word for how he felt; if he were to gaze at you now, would this very moment be the last he ever remembered of you? Of your solemnly beautiful eyes staring back at him, so full of life and emotions and warmth, yet fading as snow faded under the sun’s heat? Or would his mind instead remember the way you clutched at him as you both danced, your body visibly beginning to tire itself out? He tightened his hold around your waist, bringing you closer as his other hand remained in your grasp, supporting more of your weight without causing you to shy away from his hold.

He briefly contemplated lying to you. Well, half-of-a-second briefly, but a half of a second nonetheless. You didn’t deserve that, however, no matter how long he contemplated it. You deserved better. You deserved truth.

“I hoped that… that my kiss would work, that it would heal... Eh, sense my…” He tried, forehead withdrawing from your own as the warm hand clasped against yours moved from your hold, gesturing wildly into the air in an attempt to find his words. A smile once more graced your lips, watching as the Papa abandoned his search, sighing.

“Sense your what, Terzo?” You asked, allowing his hand to return to its previous place against your own. Grateful were you of his perceptiveness, leaning into his hold as your body began to ache, tiredness overcoming you. Of course it did; you’d just slept 3 days and had not yet eaten, water being the only thing that had entered your body.

“Fear.” He suddenly whispered, eyebrows furrowing as if surprised by his own words. He cleared his throat, continuing to sway you left and right.

“My fears, and my hope… to heal you. This sickness, it is smart, no?”

You almost didn’t even register the Papa’s attempt at humor as your mind focused instead on WHAT he’d said.

Terzo, Papa Emeritus III, current leader of the Satanic church you had devoted yourself to, had wanted to save you. He had kissed you in hopes that the sickness that inhabited your very body would sense his desperation and fears, and disappear.

Tears began forming once more as you regarded the man practically pressed up against you, holding more and more of your weight as time went on; he wanted to help you continue to dance along with him, help you remain standing, help you to relax.

“Terzo-“ You choked out, watching silently as realization colored his handsome features before immediately being replaced by panic.

“Basta piangere, va bene Bella? No more crying, sì?” Terzo hurriedly spoke, squeezing both your hand and your waist, as if to accentuate the words he’d spoken. He found he could not stand to see you tear up, to see the pain within your eyes where joy should instead be. Moonlight that slithered in from the tall glass panes above bathed you in a beautiful light, your tears dazzling like fallen stars, almost as if you were about to be called to your- Terzo stopped his thought, unwilling to finish it.

“Come, la mia stella, allow me to heat you up, you’re freezing!”

“It’s almost as if Im lacking a heart beat.” You expressed with a chuckle, intending your comment to be taken with sarcasm, but so too did your comment fall flat, just as Terzo’s had before. Faintly, in the back of your mind, you registered the fact that you did not recognize the nickname he had just uttered.

“That is far from the truth.” Silence once more clung to the both of you as you now stood immobile together, hands still linked together in the air. Terzo regarded you with a sad smile before seeming to flip on himself, grinning like a man about to make the crudest joke ever known to mankind. You knew that smile; it had been the very one he had had whilst asking you so confidently if you were Papa Secondo’s Prime Mover. Now, however, even as he perfectly replicated the smile he had worn four days ago, it was his eyes that betrayed him, betrayed the visage he attempted the keep in place for either your sake, or his own.

“You say you are lacking of a heart beat, but all I see is a hot-“

Papa Emeritus III’s mouth shut instantly as he truly took in the sight of you; before, when seated beside you on the pew, he had not realized what exactly you had been wearing, too immersed in apologizing to you and the revelation of your sickness to notice. But now, as he looked you up and down, the joke about your hot body he had intended on regalling you with dying on his tongue, Terzo blurted out the only thing that flashed within his mind like a giant neon sign.

“Are those Primo’s favorite sleep pants?”

Heat irrupted across your entire body at the Papa’s words whilst you also looked down at yourself, remembering that you were infact wearing Primo’s sleep pants, given to you by the man himself to wear since it was chilly within the Abbey’s walls at night. That they were his favorite, however, was new information.

The normally flamboyant man before you recovered far more quickly then you did, grinning widely as the arm around your waist pulled you in once more, your pelvis practically molded onto his own. The Papa seemed not to notice as he continued on what he had intended on saying.

“Mio fratello’s pants look far more appealing on you, stellina! Perhaps is it because of the lack of cock-“

He’d barely finished his phrase before you groaned out, face scrunching up in embarrassment as you attempted to lean forward, wanting to hide your burning face onto his chest.

Satan, you’d been so distracted by the thought of wearing Primo’s bathrobe that you hadn’t fully realized these WERE a pair of his sleep pants.

“Were you the one that chose those pants, stellina, or did Primo give those to you?” Terzo asked, a smile ever present upon his lips as he continued to sway your body left and right. You failed to notice, however, the sadness that had begun to overtake his visage once more. Dissimilar eyes remained glued to your expression as he remembered a long forgotten promise, words Primo had told him ages ago, when both Secondo and he were but children, seeking out their father figure’s attention before bed.

“Primo, why do you not have a Prime Mover?”

The slap Secondo had hit him on the arm with burned, a hiss exiting his angered brother as a young Terzo regarded him with pain, tears beginning to form within his mismatched eyes.

“Idiot! Do not ask such things!”

Primo, sage and patient far beyond his age, frowned lightly, moving to kneel between his little brothers beds. He reached out, taking hold of Terzo’s little arm, thumb rubbing softly against the red skin that began to form there, attempting to sooth his pain.

“Ah, fratellino, do not be so mean to your brother. He does not understand yet what it means.”

The young Secondo looked down, the air of a scolded child emanating from his little form. Terzo, although only a few months younger than Secondo, turned to his brother, hand outstretched for his brother to hold.

“See, Secondo? Your brother loves you, and only wishes to understand. Now, what do we do when we’ve hurt someone we love?” No matter how much Secondo pretended to be a bitter little child, Primo knew him, knew them both. Too many times had he seen the middle Emeritus son defend their little brother when Nihil lost his temper, unable to watch as their father yelled at Terzo like he wasn’t his own son.

“Sorry…” Secondo whispered, a trait he had taken up when he did not trust his voice, hand moving to hold Terzo’s little hand back.

“There we go. As it should be. Now it is time for bed-“

“But Primo! I still don’t understand why!” Terzo piped up again, eyes wide with confusion as his raven colored eyebrows furrowed, unable to grasp why his eldest brother did not have a wife or a husband or a partner. Secondo grunted out in annoyance, instantly letting go of his brother’s hand. Primo chuckled at the boy’s pettiness, knowing he would grow to become a serious man with little to no patience for the whirlwind Terzo would become.

“Sometimes, having a Prime Mover does not mean you are in love with them, Terzo.” Primo softly spoke, watching as both boys regarded him in confusion. “I have not accepted to have a Prime Mover because I have not fallen in love yet, frattelino. I have not found them, my intended that I hope will become my Prime Mover.”

“When you do find them, how will we know?” Terzo countered, one eyebrow raised as he attempted to understand something.

“An announcement will be made to alllll the people of the Mini-“

“Yes we know that, Primo! That’s not what I meant!” The youngest of the three let out, groaning and whining with a frown as his little feet kicked under his blanket. A petulant child, that’s what he had been at the time, but child nonetheless. A child that wished to understand why his brother spent his nights and days alone while Siblings and Ghouls alike spent their nights together having sleepovers.

“Then think on what you meant to say, Terzo, and try again.” The patience and love in Primo’s tone caused the youngest of the three to nod, taking the task at heart.

Silence surrounded the three brothers before Terzo piped up once more, finally decisive on how to phrase what he truly had meant to ask.

“How will Secondo and I know who you have chosen? Who you have fallen in love with?”

The middle Emeritus son remained quiet as Terzo spoke once more, but his eyes revealed to the Eldest just how in agreement he was with his brother’s words. A rare sight.

“Hm, a smart question indeed…” Primo pondered on the child’s words, mind racing to give them both a satisfactory enough answer for them to finally lay down and sleep for the night.

“How about this: When I will have fallen in love with someone, I will gift them these pants that you both have given to me, and I will ask my love to wear them for all to see. Only you two will know of its significance. How’s that?” Primo tried, hand gesturing to the silken sleep pants he currently wore. There, an easy answer. Now they would surely go to slee-

“That’s stupid. What if you give them to someone to sleep with by accident, or they get stolen?” Secondo grumbled from his little bed, arms crossed over his blanket, dark eyebrows furrowed in doubt. Terzo nodded furiously, lips about to part to surely protest which would further lead to their bedtime being pushed.

“Ah! Would I be so careless as to give my favorite sleep pants to someone I did not love, or allow them to be stolen from under my big nose?”

Unbeknownst to Primo, years into the future, Terzo would remember the words he had whispered to them, a secret shared only between the three of them.

“Oh! Papa Primo gave them to me to wear, seeing how chilly it is here during the night.” You answered, your very words further proven right by the shiver that racked your body.

Hanahaki Disease was a disease caused by unrequited love, was it not? Terzo racked his mind as he attempted to understand how you had come to be in possession of the very pants Primo had told him he would give the person he loved, yet you were still sick. If you loved his brother just as much as he imagined Primo loved you, Terzo doubted that Primo would allow you to suffer like this. That would mean that the person you were in love with was not his brother.

“My fratello is quite knowledgeable, is he not? Perhaps he knows-“ For what felt like the umpteenth, Papa Emeritus III stopped speaking, eyes unseeing as his mind blazed to life, synapses firing as he attempted to understand his own thoughts. Knows. Knows. Did Primo know who you loved, who your heart hammered so furiously for? Was it possible that you had developed Hanahaki Disease because of your perception of someone’s feelings, and not factually about how they felt? Did you perhaps love Primo just as much as he loved you, but were unaware of the man’s feelings, perhaps believing him not capable of falling in love with you?

“Stella mia, your disease, it is a disease of unrequited love, sì? It has to be unrequited for you to be sick?” The third Emeritus son asked hurriedly, voice ringing loudly against the chapel’s walls whilst he tried to get his words out as quickly as possible.

“Shhh! Yes-“ You had barely begun to whisper before the Papa pressed against you stepped back, dragging you along with him, seeming resolute in leaving the chapel to instead go-

“We are going to go confess to the person you love right now!” He exclaimed, a desperately shaky grin forming on his lips. Your eyebrows creased at his words before a frown overtook your visage, heart breaking at the tentative hopefulness coloring his features.

“Papa- Terzo, he doesn’t-“ You tried again, words falling short as he spoke over you.

“Oh, it is a he! He would be a fool to turn you down, bella!” Terzo proclaimed with even more enthusiasm, pulling you along with him as he began walking-

“Terzo-“

.

.

.

[onedaughterofman]

Sacrifice me (Papa Emeritus x g/n reader)

Summary: For tonight's ritual, Papa is tied down and on his knees. He's completely at your mercy and, to please the Old One, you must tease and deny him as hard as your heart desires.

Warning/tags: Any Papa you want. +18, sex, BDSM, sex toys, bondage, orgasm control/denial, aphrodisiacs, gags, flogging, dom/sub dynamics, ritualistic sex, satanism. 1.9 K words

A/N: I've been working on this for a while but tonight I drank a bit and decided... why not post it. Hope you like it. I proof read it after the wine, so there might be mistakes. Sorry.

The chapel of rituals smells of incense and burnt candles. Dancing flames illuminate most of the room, casting shadows around the place. There’s a gentle, grave melody echoing on the walls, reaching your ears as you walk down the aisle.

The consecrated chants send shivers down your spine. Tonight the moon is full in the black sky, ghastly light sweeping in through the stained glass, bathing everything in a multi-colored gleam.

Everything, including him.

The air freezes in your lungs, expanding your chest as your feet halt. There he is, among the lights and shadows, white eye emitting a faint glow in the inky darkness. Papa remains in the middle of the altar, on his knees, arms bound behind his back to an inverted cross.

He’s naked, and his skin conserves a bit of a flush obvious even in the gloom. The paint on his face is already messy, thick drops of sweat falling down his forehead. The air is balmy around him, clouds of condensation forming every time he pants with an open mouth.

What a sight. Tonight, he’s not Papa.

No, tonight he’s an offering, a sacrifice.

There’s nothing in your tongue when you swallow. The leather clothes are snug on your body, slightly creaking with every move. This is an unhallowed ceremony, a necessary ritual meant to honor the Dark One and to bring prosperity and power to this Ministry. It has been imparted by chosen siblings since the beginning of the times, and tonight it’s your turn to do it again.

As always, Papa smiles upon noticing you approach the altar. His shoulders roll, muscles stiffening under the tight, flushed skin. A low grunt escapes his lips, reverberating into the ancient chapel before disappearing on the walls.

Tonight is the night. This ritual is long, intense, mind-blowing even. It’s one of the very few occasions someone like Papa will be at your mercy, when he won’t be getting it his way no matter how hard he tries to sweet talk and charm you.

No. Tonight you’ll tease, edge and deny him to your heart’s delight, until he’s nothing but a whimpering, teary eyed mess on this altar. From his suffering, the Lord will be satisfied. Both of you will supply him as much sexual energy as you can create.

Fucking for Satan, offering him a rough, intense sex ritual… You’re lucky to have been chosen by Papa years ago, as his partner, as his caretaker. He never regretted it. You can percieve it in his pupils as you get closer, riding crop burning on your hand. It has a contudent weight and flows nicely in the air when you use the tip to lift his chin.

Now, with him staring right into your soul, you can’t breathe. There’s a violent blush on his face, bold even under all the black and white paint. “Amore,” he states, sultry gaze assaulting your senses. “Every second I spent waiting for you it’s been tortuous.”

The warm, wet breath creates even more condensation around him. Fuck, he’s burning. It’s not a surprise, since the cocktail of aphrodisiacs and sacred herbs he drank earlier is doing full effect. His pupils are blown, nothing but never-ending dark holes inside his irises.

In them, you look at your own reflection. In them you are powerful, sacred, a divine sight.

“I hope you didn’t torture yourself that much, Papa,” you reply, in a hushed tone. The tip of the crop is replaced by your finger when you lean down. “That’s my job tonight.”

The weight of his sheer adoration and pure lust is heavy on your shoulders. So dense, you could drown into it. The excitement coming from his bare body strickes your skin in waves, one after the other.

“Do your worst,” Papa breathes out, voice a rumble in his chest. He’s aching to caress you, or to be touched, unconsciously pulling on his restraints to be closer to you, wishing to melt into your body. “I’m yours. Forever yours. Take me.”

The first strike of the riding crop makes him flinch. An angry, red mark appears on his chest, and he smiles. Through his clenched teeth, nothing escapes but a grunt. “Harder,” he purrs.

As much as you wish to indulge him, that’s absolutely not the way this ritual should go. The following strike is softer, a tickle on his skin. The tenderness of that gesture might be even worse than the pain, because this time all the air leaves his lungs in a prolonged blow.

Oh, he’s way too sensitive for his own good. High on lust and aphrodisiacs, his blood runs hot and wild inside his veins and arteries. You take it slow, teasing and caressing softly, tip of the crop followed by your nails hardly scratching at his skin. Papa’s gaze falls to the floor, jaw locked. The shadows make him look older, face gaunt and eyes nothing but deep pits of wantonness.

And yet, you take it slow. Your fingers ghost over the places he wants them the most, merely brushing the underside of his cock before slithering back up to his shivering stomach and heaving chest. Fuck, he’s feverish already, a thin coat of sweat covering him.

“You know the deal, Papa,” you murmur in his ear. Your fingers curl around his black crucifix, pulling on it until he’s forced to look back up. “I have to watch you burn first.”

Unhurriedly, his head nods. There’s fire in his gaze, excitement and thirst in his body language. Your heels click on the old floor when you move away, scanning the table searching for whatever tool you want to use tonight.

Papa gasp through his clenched jaw when you place it on him, fist closing around his aching erection. There’s precum already coating your hand, and you wipe it off on his chest before moving away. The low buzzing of the toy fills the silence, interrupted only by the distant, faint ritualistic music.

This time, the flogger weights in your hand. Your wrist moves swiftly, causing a loud noise to stab through the air. Papa grunts, pulling on the leather restrain, but he can’t escape from the mix of pain and pleasure you’re offering him.

Gradually, minute by minute, the sexual tension and energy build up. You know your Papa well, all these years together have taught you the telling signs of his orgasms approaching. You stop right before one, then do it again, and again, and again…

You lost count of how many times you have denied him of sweet release before a raspy moan escapes his mouth, muffled by his teeth. His messy face paint stains your fingers when you cup his cheeks, gently massaging in order to encourage him to relax his jaw.

“Do you need something to bite on?”

“It might be for the best, amore,” he replies, voice nothing but a whisper. “There’s still a long way to go.”

He’s right. The moon is still high in the sky, pale light illuminating the big stained glass behind his back. Bathed in unique colors, Papa looks ethereal, sacred. And oh, there’s nothing you wish to do more than to completely ruin him.

The bit gag is secured on his mouth. Those blown, dark pupils follow your movements with adoration, dark lashes fluttering evert time your fingers graze his skin. A part of you feels pity for him, on how he’s tied up to an inverted cross in the middle of the altar, covered in drool and sweat, painfully hard. But then, there’s that dense sexual longing in his eyes, that raw ardour that reminds you he wants this.

Fuck, he’s enjoying every second of it, worshipping your ministrations with blind faith. Papa’s head leans on your leg, cheek pressed on your inner thigh. He looks up at you, silently begging to continue. A black stain is left on you when you finally move away, causing him to whine from the loss of contact.

Oh, how much he aches, how much he wants to caress you and breathe into your skin. He’ll get his chance; you’re sure of it, but now you continue with the ritual, step by step carefully planned and calculated.

By the time the moon has moved and most of the candles have consumed, Papa is nothing but a whimpering, moaning mess in the altar. The hard floor digs on his bare knees, body uselessly pulling on the leather straps. He’s biting down on the gag, droll falling to the ground when he lets out another mewl.

Your hands are on him, caressing, scratching, working him up and down with slow ease. Once more, you bear the weight of his desire, the sheer devotion in his pupils. Papa is high on your love, on the sex and the denial, high out of his mind and reservations. He only craves for any release you might offer, for any touch of your fingers and kiss from your lips.

Through labored breaths and a heaving chest, you overhear him trying to talk around the gag. There are marks on his face when you remove it, and he takes his time to pant before he’s capable to form coherent words.

“The big candle is almost all consumed, tesoro,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours as if you were the apple of temptation placed in front of him, sweet and juicy for him to bite. “Our time is ending here. Sacrifice me for our Lord. My soul is forever yours.”

This time, you’re the one breathless. You gasp, muscles tensing and relaxing as you swallow. This man is an unholy sight, the devil on earth, the son of one below and you crave every inch of him.

The soothing murmur of his prayers fills your ears. Papa’s thick lashes are coated in pleasure tears when he narrows his eyes to focus on the unsacred words, reciting from memory the ancient incantations. You do it too, in your mind, as an effort to keep you grounded.

Papa is right, this part of the ritual is important. All this slow build up has to end in a powerful orgasm, in raw energy for the Old One to consume. Your palm comes to contact with his cock again, gripping it tight as your wrist moves with practiced ease. Gently, then faster and harder. Papa’s hips move as much as he can, in an effort to ride his own pleasure until the end.

With his head propped on your shoulder, you allow him to thrust into your first, other arm slithering around his back. On your chest, you sense the muffled rumble of his grunts and moans, the heat coming from his body. The silence is pierced by his scream when he ultimately comes, hips still moving as his cum stains the floor, your fingers and his own stomach.

The candle is completely consumed by the time he pauses, body almost hanging limp. He's resting all his weight on you, blissfully out of his mind. Your fingers deftly loosen up the leather straps, allowing him to fall more and more on you. Papa’s eyes are closed, but his pupils are still blown and clouded when he finally opens them up to tenderly stare at you.

“You were ruthless, like an infernal creature who crawled up from Hell to torture my soul for eternity,” he speaks, through pants.“You scared me, amore. So badly.”

Then, lowering his lips on your palm, he smiles. His face glistens with his own release, cum mixing with the remaining black and white pigment.

“Do it again,” he purrs, before letting out a few airy chuckles. “But, later, si? Get your Papa some snacks and water, will you?”

“Anything for you,” you reply, placing a kiss on his temple. The salt from his sweat rises to your lips, combined with the bitter taste of the face paint. “My soul is yours too.”

PS: yeah none of us is free of sin, friends.

[cease-your-release]

"You Mean The World To Me." (SFW)

Following a hard day at work, you and Copia retreat to your shared bath to unwind. (Fluff, 5,581)

Content warning(s): It gets a little suggestive, maybe?

I’m fighting off what I think is a stomach bug, so my proofreading skills aren’t top notch at the moment… technically I did but how much good is that when your vision is blurred from a migraine?

Also on Ao3!

Smut version here

You stand in the en-suite bathroom that you share with your partner, Copia, leaning over the wall of the tub to continuously adjust the water that flows from the tap.

The both of you had, quite frankly, horrible times at work, at least in terms of the work itself. Copia, in his tasking role as Papa Emeritus, had been especially swamped with forms to fill out and meetings to attend, which meant he was either confined to his office in frustrated silence or rushing to where the next conference would be held. He had always made time to see you, or at least call if physical presence wasn’t an option, but today there was absolutely no way he could fit it in. That’s how you knew something was off, but it wasn’t as if you could dwell on it for too long, because you were trapped under your own workload. Yours were much more body-oriented, legs weary and sore from the way they carried your tense body up and down the halls while taking things (which, of course, were not as light as you would have liked) to be delivered to wherever the Heaven you were going. By the end, both of you wanted nothing more than to collapse into the arms of the other, but once you two saw the state of your counterpart, your caretaking instincts kicked in.

“You start the bath, tesoro. Make it as hot as you’d like for those aching bones, huh?” Copia had told you before taking to the sink to deal with his papal paint, which by that point had faded and smudged from the amount of times he had mindlessly rubbed it in his stress. You had spaced out somewhat, and therefore didn’t notice when he disappeared into the main room, but you also didn’t have the energy to worry about it. The curiosity was short lived, however, as he came back only a few minutes later with a pile of folded clothes- pajamas, you gathered- and an armful of scented candles.

You move to help him set everything down, despite his protests, and together you arrange it all accordingly. Before you know it, a handful of subtle relaxing scents fill the room, the dim, warm light from the dancing flames only enhancing the mood.

While you’re doing that, the tub fills, and then you can finally partake in the hot water.

Copia steps in first, then turns back and holds out his hand to you. “Shall I help you in, then?” He asks, and it’s clear he rushed ahead just to be able to do so.

Amusement washes over your expression, which he grins at, and you place your hand in his before joining him. You both sit down, settling with his back to the wall and you facing him, sitting over his lap. “Is the temperature alright? Not too hot?” You ask, running your hands over his shoulders. Even after all this time of sharing the bath, you still can’t help but worry about that aspect.

“It’s just right, amore.” He responds with a sigh at the faint massage. The warm water surrounds both of you, and he leans back against the wall of the tub with a relieved groan. “I can’t explain it to you, but this is what I want right now…” He raises his hand, bringing it to rest upon your cheek. His thumb runs along your bottom lip, tracing the shape. “This… this is good. Everything right now is just wonderful…”

Your lips part under the pressure, then lightly kiss the finger against them, which gets a somewhat flustered smile from him. “Mm… how does your stomach feel?” You slide your palms to his abdomen, which is completely submerged in the bath..

Heavy stress would often lead to a feeling of nausea for him, which the bath could sometimes help with. It definitely didn’t hurt that you were with him, either.

Copia’s eyes flutter, and his lips part for a few seconds before answering. “It’s… much better right now, actually.” He tilts his head, and reaches over to rub your thigh. “And how does my baby feel? Are your legs still tender?”

You can’t help but beam at the name, followed by a deep sigh at his touch. “A little, yes. But that’s to be expected after such events, right? I’m just thankful I can still walk, really.”

“Of course, you’ve done a lot. I can’t believe you’re still so willing to take care of me once it’s all over…” He leans over to place a kiss on your collarbone, sliding his hands to give your thighs a caress. “Sei incredibile..” He moves his lips to just over your throat, and you can feel his touch traveling over your legs. “Are you ready, tesoro?”

You nod slowly with a laugh, a slight tickle caused by his kisses, your arms rising to hold yourself up by the wall of the tub. “Mhm, if you aren’t too tired for it.” You respond, leaning back and lifting your hips so he can reach more of you. “Oh, your hands are lovely..” You’re trail off into a silent groan at his touch, finding the prolonged tension has resulted in a noticeable tightness of your muscles, which were being soothed by the water and his hands..

“Look at you, amore mio.” He hums, watching and feeling the way you move under his touch, pressing his hands into your thighs and kneading the flesh. “Your skin is so soft,” His lips brush against your neck, leaving behind a trail of kisses as they go down towards your shoulder.. “but you are so tense.”

A sigh escapes you at that- his massage and words. “Oh, you know how it is.” Soon enough, he gets to a particular problem area, which pulls a noise from you. “A-ah!”

Copia’s body jerks at the sound, and he gasps. “Amore, I don’t think you understand how much-” His concern is cut short when your hands return to his shoulders, fingers working his tightened muscles just as he is with yours. “Ancora, per favore..”

“F-fuck..” You bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut at the sensation of his touch, feeling your tension slowly melt away. You start kissing his neck like he did yours.

His eyes flicker with each kiss that lands on him, paired with subtle whines when your hands get to the especially tough spots. “Caro Satanas..” He holds you close for a few seconds, digits curling around and pushing into your calves, before relaxing slightly and leaning back against the wall. It almost feels like you’re one in the same- your bodies move in tandem, your hands relieving the other. “Don’t stop, baby, please.”

You grin against his skin, noticing the slump, and shake your head shortly. His breath hitches, lips forming a small ‘o’ shape while a shiver jumps through his spine.

“I won’t, don’t worry.” You reassure before moving to the other side of him, kissing there too. Copia’s fingers grip your legs, and his motions gradually increase in reaction to yours- they’re not fast, however. He’s so slow, so gentle with you, that you can tell he’s putting just as much effort into it as you are.

“You’re amazing at this, you know that? I- oh!” Your words are cut short with a groan, a result of him reaching another area of tightness.

After taking a moment to recover, you pull back and bring a hand up to his cheek, tilting his head to face you. You take in the sight of his love-drunk expression: dazed and half-lidded eyes that dart around your frame, lips parted under deep breath, and a lovely light flush that accents his sparsely freckled skin. “Pretty boy~” You coo, then press a tender kiss to his lips, one very calm and clement.

He looks at you for a few seconds and kisses you back, soft and slow, just like before. He eventually pulls away and meets your gaze. “You and I, tesoro, are amazing together. I’ve never felt so comfortable around anyone before, a-and- cazzo -We are like… one, but still our own persons…” He glances down at where his palms and fingers press into your flesh for a second before looking back up to you. “I need you..”

You smile at his profession and he pulls you chest-to-chest, groaning and sighing. “More of me? You can have as much as your heart desires, darling.” Comes from you in a whisper, a bit breathless. You lean in and allow your lips to trail his jaw, not quite reaching his neck. Then, you mumble something: “Meus es.”

The handful of Latin you picked up from mass sometimes pays off in some of these moments- it is called "romance language", after all.

“You called me yours…” He thinks. “I don’t want any more of you, caro, I want all of you.” He presses his lips to yours shortly, and smooths one hand over your skin, up towards your hip. “Questo è perfetto…”

“Mm, well, I’d say you have that already.” You respond before returning the kiss. You slip your hands underneath his arms and to his back, massaging what you can reach there. “My heart is so full of you, I can hardly call it my own.” You whisper into his ear.

Copia lets your words sink in, and he could swear he feels his own pulse beat to the pace you two move at. “I love you, dolce mio, more than I’ve ever loved anyone before.”

“I know, sweet boy-” You start to say, but are interrupted once again. “Ah, Copia, right there..” You bury your face into the crook of his neck, somewhat panting while he works on your hips.

He gladly obliges, right up until you find his own sweet spot between his shoulder blades. “Oh, tesoro, I- cazzo!” He gets out in a groan.

After roughly another minute of that, you both slowly stop and your hands come to rest on the skin of the other. His hold on you loosens, and one reaches up to pull your face to his. Before you can process it, he presses mouth to yours in a tender kiss.

“I love you.” Is the silent message between you two, only broken by the sound of breathing and the soft smacks of your lips connecting.

You return the kiss with just as much gentleness, and curl your arms around his waist. “The water’s so hot that now we’re all sweaty… What do you think about a shower?” Then, you glance down at your bodies, the perspiration beading from them. “But we’ll have to drain this water first.”

Copia nods, eyes half closed. “Yeah, that’s a good idea…” There’s a hint of concern on his face when he looks at you, his voice matching. “Are your legs alright? I don’t want to push you to walk if you’re too sore.” He says, moving to lightly rub one of your thighs again.

You smile at his question, and lean in to press a couple of kisses to his cheeks. “It’s positively adorable how much you care for me, sweetheart.”

“Thank you for the compliment, dolce mio, but I’d be doing a horrible job if I didn’t care for you like that.” He replies, accented by slight giggles when your lips reach his skin.

“I should be alright to stand for a shower, at least. If nothing else, I may just have to lean on you when it comes time to get back to bed.” You explain, then turn around and start towards the other side of the tub.

He sighs at the loss of your warmth. “And I’ll be right there beside you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” A smile pulls at his lips after a second of thought. “It could be quite a nice moment, actually…”

You pull the plug from the drain, then stand with a grunt of effort, water falling and dripping from your figure. You shake some from your hair, though most of it may actually be sweat. “Oh, of course it would..” You remark with a grin. “My big strong man, hm?” You tease, helping him up to his feet as well.

“Oh, amore mio…” Copia watches you stand, eyes teeming with nothing short of admiration, and smiles at you as if you had used his favorite pet name. Once he’s up, he leans in for a faint hug, not seeming to mind the lack of clothing between you. You don’t either, since the temperature of your bodies is- quite literally -warmly welcomed after the chill of removing yourself from the water. “I will never let you fall…” He whispers into your ear.

You reciprocate the embrace, closing your eyes and pressing your forehead to his. “You’re very sweet, Copia. Thank you.” You mutter in response, then press your lips to his nose quickly. Slipping your hands away, you turn around and bend over enough to start the shower tap.

He chuckles at your words and kiss, but when he sees you bend over his eyes widen and a flush rises. He can’t help but get distracted, though fears that if he looks for too long he’ll just be staring. “Vale, caro mio… d-do you prefer if I look away?” Even as he asks the question, you can see him stealing glances at you.

You peek back at him, and swiftly turn your gaze back to the knobs. Though, it’s more to hide a growing smirk. Seeing him get so nervous about your body never really gets old. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, right?” You respond, then stand upright.

“I… well…” The words don’t quite make it past his throat, and the blush grows on his cheeks. “I would just.. Feel bad if you found me staring, I-..” His voice drops to a whisper. “I think you look absolutely gorgeous, even from this perspective.” While he speaks, you feel a pair of hands on your waist.

You quickly look back at him over your shoulder and place your hands over his, thumbs running over the backs of his palms.

“Let me help you?” He asks in a mutter.

“Are you sure about this? Don’t push yourself, darling.”

He lets out a chuckle. “I’m not pushing myself,” He smiles and squeezes your hips, making his intentions quite clear. “but I appreciate your concern, amore.”

Before you can say anything else, he presses his face to your neck and starts to kiss along it, from your shoulder to just under your chin. And once he starts doing that, you can’t help but close your eyes and lean your head back, relenting. “Just take it easy, okay?”

Copia hums quietly- probably at the way you melted -before saying: “I’ll be fine, dear. I promise that loving you won’t break me.”

“Alright, I trust you- mm..” You angle your head to kiss his neck in return, and slide your hands up to caress his arms.

You feel him shiver, and he lets out a breathy groan that’s barely louder than a whisper. “I’ll never get enough of you, bello.” His grasp leaves your hips, and goes to your waist instead. At the same time, he slowly moves to kiss your back.

“Sweetheart, that doesn’t feel like helping me shower.” You comment lightheartedly.

“I know, just, eh.. give me a minute, schricchio?” His grasp tightens again, more reassuring and grounding than demanding.

Your eyes close, and you reach up to hold the shower bar for support. You can feel his hands working about you again, running his fingers over your waist, hips, thighs, and up to your shoulders and arms. It quickly builds into another gentle massage, pressure adding until you’re sighing and soaking up his touch all over again.

Occasionally, his hands brush your behind, which causes you to flinch- a little tense of the muscle is all, but even so, he notices. He laughs and presses more purposefully for just a second, all but groping you before returning to sweet little rubs. “You like it when I touch you there, don’t you?”

You chuckle in turn and roll your eyes.

Within some amount of minutes you’ve all but forgotten the original plan here.

“Oh, bene mio..” After a few moments, he leans in and kisses your face all over. “You look absolutely radiant..” He nuzzles your neck and whispers. “Ti amo così tanto.”

You’re snapped out of your trance, feeling his lips peppering your face. You smile, and try your best to reciprocate over your shoulder. “Mm… thank you, sweetheart.” You mutter, bringing a hand to his head and lightly scratching his wetted scalp. “I love you too.”

Copia hums when you touch his hair, and takes your hand. He kisses your fingertips, one by one, even the thumb. “There we go." He cups your face, then presses his lips to yours very gently. You can feel him breathe a sigh of relief, his face is absolutely flush - but not even because of what you just did, the sight of you truly affects him in such a way.

A slight giggle escapes you at his actions, and you sigh just as he did.

He peels away from your back, on the way getting a couple of soft pop sounds from his spine. Nothing painful, merely something par for the course at his age.

After a moment, you slowly stretch and roll your joints, which causes a deep sigh. “Satanas, my back, a-and legs…”

His eyes go wide at that.. “Are you okay?” He asks with concern, and you feel his hands grip onto you tighter. From his voice you can hear he’s genuinely worried. “Do I need to help you? Should I carry you? Are you hurt?” He asks quickly, the panic evident, along with a touch of shame. “What did I do? I was gentle, right?”

“Oh, honey, I’m fine!” You quickly reassure him, leaning in to kiss his forehead- though that produces another small noise of effort. “You were perfect, don’t worry. I meant it in a good way, they’re much better now.”

Copia lets out a breath of relief when he hears that. “Okay, good.” He says with a nervous chuckle, and kisses you back with a careful hug. “Can I have some rest on my love’s shoulder? I feel much better when we’re close.”

“After we shower, okay? The water’s been on this whole time, it’ll probably get cold soon.” You step away to retrieve a couple bottles of soap, handing one to him.

He nods and kisses you again, smiling. “Alright alright, no sleeping until we’re clean.” He looks down, which is when he gets an idea. “Here, let me help you with that first.”

You flush when you see him lower himself to reach, to wash your skin himself. “Oh, you don’t have to do… that…” But you know it’s no use. You bite your lip and look away, now a tad flustered.. “Thank you, I mean.”

“There’s no need to thank me.” He whispers, caressing your leg as he wipes you up.  He seems absolutely focused on this task, and you can tell he’s not unhappy about it, seeing him occasionally smiling up at you. He moves very attentively, even using a washcloth to make sure he gets it all. In his mind, that’s the least he could do- and it’s a nice way to see your face blush.

You can’t help the sigh that leaves you, because it feels somewhat like another massage to your weakened muscles. You watch from the corner of your eyes until it’s done, and run your fingers through his hair. “You’re very kind to me, my love.”

Copia laughs quietly and shakes his head. “You are amore mio, it’s only natural I take care of you. Just wait and see, it’s going to be my turn next, and I already know you’re going to treat me well, too.”

You smile at him, lightly scratching his scalp. “You know me, I can’t go a day without pampering you.”

He kisses the inside of your thigh, making your flush deepen, and lets out a small gasp. “Oh, you are so soft and smooth, it makes me want to kiss you everywhere…”

“Ah, but that will take a long time, and I want you to get in bed as soon as possible.” You respond with a subtle laugh.

He seems to consider your suggestion, and finally nods. “Alright, I will do as I’m told.” He kisses your other thigh and stands back up, although this time he wraps an arm around your waist and leans his upper half onto you. “Let’s get you cleaned and into bed, you hear?”

You smile at him and reciprocate the embrace. “Loud and clear, Papa.” You say with a giggle, then press your lips to his for a quick kiss before pulling back and getting started on your hair.

As you do that, he works on your back and neck very carefully with a cloth.

You hum at the feeling of him helping you wash the harder-to-reach areas, and look back at him. “Copia, there’s no need to be so gentle. I won’t shatter, you know that.” You reach behind yourself to press his hand a little more to your skin, the muscles tensing underneath his touch. “But… It does feel nice, and I appreciate it.”

“Oh, I know.” But he can’t help it. Your skin is so nice to him, and it makes him want to be gentle at all times. That, and the little scare from last time have a certain effect on how confident his strokes are. Even so, his fingers move a little more firmly on your back, gliding around at an even pace. “A-Am I doing alright?” He asks softly.

You nod, your eyes having closed after a few moments of him starting. “Mm… yes, you’re doing wonderfully.” Soon enough, you’re humming at the touch, somewhat resembling a purr.

Copia feels like his heart is overflowing with affection. You look delightful when he touches you, and you feel like pure bliss, like you’re the most precious flower in the world. He gets behind your ears with his free hand and speaks gently. “Just close your eyes, baby, enjoy it.”

You subconsciously try to lean into the touch, the tilt of your head making it noticeable that your lips are slightly parted. “That’s good…” You murmur, your tone on top of everything else making it clear that you may not be entirely aware at this moment.

His breath catches in his throat. He seems completely unaware of everything else- of the shower and all -as he leans forward and kisses you lovingly on the mouth. There’s so much love in his fingers and lips, you can practically feel and taste it.

Your eyes snap open, but just as quickly flutter shut, and you reciprocate. When you eventually pull back, you slowly open your lids, which reveals pupils blown wide. “What was that for…?”

He gives you a sweet smile. “Because I love you.” He says. He presses his palm against your cheek and caresses it, making sure you see his expression. He leans in close and whispers to you. “And because you’re absolutely bewitching tonight, you look so perfect..” He pauses. “..I want to kiss you forever.”

You exhale shakily at his touch, and nuzzle into his hand. “I don’t look any different than I usually do…” You remark, but his last sentence gets your attention much more quickly. Your gaze darts from his eyes to lips before you end up closing them again, then press a kiss to his wrist, which gets a quiet noise from him. “You could certainly try later, but we have to finish up here.”

Copia smiles gently. “And you’re absolutely stunning at all times, so I don’t see why I can’t kiss you whenever I want.” He gives out a small chuckle and a sigh. “I couldn’t have wished for anyone better.”

A smile spreads over your lips at that, and you pull his hand off of you to kiss the knuckles of it. “My turn to help you wash up?” You ask softly, looking at him with your mouth hovering over the back of his palm. “At least your hair, if you think it’s too much for me to touch your body.”

His hair is still dripping, and his eyes wander to your lips at your kisses. He’s snapped back into reality by your question, though, and clears his throat. “Your touch is never too much,” he whispers. “But… yes, just for now, honey.”

Your smile turns into an excited grin, and you waste no time in getting the shampoo into his hair. You turn him around so his back is to you, and begin gently working the soap into his scalp with your fingers. “You have such lovely hair..” You mutter, then lean down to kiss the back of his neck.

Copia lets out a little groan of relief and closes his eyes as you wash his hair, your words warming his heart. He really just loves listening to you speak. “Mm, you do too.” He whispers and leans his head back in an effort to receive more kisses.

You slowly trail your lips down to his shoulder, and rest your chin there. At the same time, you remove your hands from his head and have them come to rest on his upper arms. “I’m afraid it’s not as good as yours, love.” You press a quick kiss to his cheek before curling your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind.

He feels like he’s melting into you, like he might just lose focus and fall into a state of bliss. “I can’t believe it took me so long to meet you..” He mumbles.

“It didn’t take so long for us to meet as it did to realize we were meant for each other.”

He laughs slightly, and gives a short kiss to your forehead. “You’re right, and it was the best thing that could have happened to me.”

That was true enough. The two of you danced around your feelings like fools for a long while until, by some miraculous twist of fate, the fantasies from your mutual pining had all come to fruition.

“I-” His voice catches in his throat, bottom lip trembling slightly.

You give him a gentle squeeze to his torso, then reach up to slide your thumb along his bottom lip. “You’re shaking a little, are you cold? Come on, get under the water.”

Your touch draws his full attention. “Oh! Mmf- yes, it’s a little c-cold..” He smiles at you. “It’s nothing, no big deal.” He lies. Then he moves forward, stepping under the shower head.

You try to bite back a smirk that tugs at the corners of your mouth, noticing you must have flustered him. You don’t comment on it, only helping him rinse the soap out of his brown locks, accented with streaks of grey.

He then scrubs himself down, as do you, getting the areas that he didn’t earlier. Once that’s done, you take your turn in the water, letting out a deep groan as the bubbles slide down your frame with the warmth.

He watches them go, though has to tear his gaze away when it further exposes your skin. “Mmnh.. You seem to be enjoying yourself.” He sounds happy to see you relax.

You glance at him following the noise, but just as quickly return to the task. “It does feel rather nice…” You respond, just before finishing up. You lean over to shut off the tap, then squeeze some of the water from your hair. “Would you get the towels? I’ll help dry you off.”

He nods, and scans the space around him. “Alright, where are they..?” Before you can point out the rack on the wall next to him he turns, perks up, laughs, and says “Ah, here they are! I knew I wasn’t that blind.” He picks a few of them up, and wraps one around your body before beginning to dry you off, being particularly careful not to press on your back or legs too hard.

You smile at him, partially in amusement, and take a different cloth to lightly tussle his hair. “You know you don’t have to do that, love.” You say softly, but don’t make any real attempt to stop him.

Copia’s cheeks heat up at your touch of his hair. “I know I don’t have to, but I really do enjoy taking care of you.”

It isn’t very long before he’s done, though, and you start to dry him off in return, and he looks away with a flush forming.

“I like to see you smile…” He finally adds on, his words sounding like a shy admission. “so, it’s… it’s worth it.”

“You’re very sweet, you know that? I hope so, because I say it so much.” You finish with that and tie the towel around his hips, then you take another to continue with his hair, moving it about his head carefully. “It’s really nice when you do things for me. I’m still not quite used to it, honestly…"

He lets out a small chuckle. “Aww, really? It’s just a couple of small tasks, it’s not like I’m doing much.” He pauses, a grin growing while you work on his hair. “Do you actually like it that much? I feel like it’s nothing special…”

You nod. “Well, to you it may be small, but they mean the world to me.

“You mean the world to me.” He says, to which you can only smile at.

You eventually get done with his hair too, though it’s still a bit damp, and remove the towel. Then, you smooth it out a little with your hands, and use one to tilt his chin so his face meets yours. “Pretty boy…”

His gaze finds you when you tilt his head, eyes meeting yours once again, blinking quickly as he stares at you, his face heating up considerably. After a moment of silence, he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

You melt into it with a small noise- something between a surprised hum and a whine- and curl your arms around his torso in an embrace. When your mouths separate, you rest your forehead against his. “You are quite the romantic tonight, aren’t you?” You say with a slight laugh. “We should get to bed now, I want to hold you for as long as possible.”

Copia lets out a breath at the contact, something so simple yet so important. "Mm, you're one to talk," He smiles and shakes his head slowly. "you get so cute and love-y when you're exhausted." he whispers, then looks up at you and asks: "Is that what you want to do? Just hold me in your arms and relax? "

“Hey, I’m not exhausted, it's just that my legs are a little weak is all…” You remark in faux offense. “...and my back.” You add. “But, yes. I would very much just like to have you close to me for the rest of the night. It.. wouldn’t hurt to be caressed again either, I suppose.”

He sighs and smiles at you, an expression teeming with infatuation. "If you want me to pet you tonight- and any other night, for that matter -I'll do it as much as you want. Don't be afraid to ask." He hardly stifles a little laugh, and then continues. "Heh.. There's nothing wrong with being a bit of a cat. We can be quite purrfect together."

A loud laugh escapes you at that, and you playfully nudge him away. “Oh, you dork! That pun was horrible!” But the grin on your face says that you liked it.

He lets out a hearty chuckle, the sound of your laugh making him feel warm. "Ah, well.. at least I'm your dork." He caresses your cheek and gently strokes your hair. "You can make fun of me as much as you like, I don't mind if it makes you happy.. "

You reach up and hold his hands where they are to your face, closing your eyes and leaning into the touch. “I am not making fun of you, Copia.” You say quietly, and begin making your way out of the tub with his hand in yours.

The two of you retrieve the clothes he’d set out before, which are the most comfortable satin pajamas either of you own, a matching pair you had gotten him for an anniversary gift. He only uses his on the most necessary days, and you just prefer wearing yours along with him, so you followed that idea by extension.

“Come on, let’s get to that bed, hm?” You ask after haphazardly buttoning up your top, half of your chest still exposed.

While putting out the candles, he responds. “Well, wait, have you had dinner? At least let me-”

“We can still have food delivered, right?” Your voice cuts through his offer.

He pauses to think.

“Eh.. technically, yes…”

“Then lay down and relax with me, won’t you?” You ask with a laugh, admittedly amused by his efforts. You pull his hand up towards your lips to kiss the back of it, watching him.

He smiles wide and relents, resting his head on you as you two make your way out of the bathroom. “Sì, caro mio… Grazie.”

Translations (Kind of):

“Vale” : “It’s worth it”

[emeritus-fuckers]

psst. hey. nosferatu.

yandere hc's. secondo or primo.

thank you, pookie <3

Yandere Papa Emeritus I headcanons

CW: non-con touching (not really sexual).

While his body may be past its prime, his mind is as sharp as ever.

And he uses both of those things to his advantage.

You most likely start as just a fellow gardener, maybe a caretaker of his butterfly conservatory.

And for whatever reason, he grows fond of you.

His current assistant gets laid off as soon as he manages to find a reason, even if they make the tiniest mistake possible.

For reasons unknown, you are moved to their position.

He's good at being a loving, caring man that the whole Ministry sees him as, even if deep down he's still bitter and can be cruel if situation needs him to be.

Not to say he's not caring. He is. But his caring nature and his cruelty co-exist.

Which side you see depends on you entirely.

If you're good and fall for his kind-hearted nature, then you have nothing to worry about.

He doesn't even really need your love all that much. All he needs is to be the most important person in your life.

As long he gets your undivided attention, you're gonna be kept safe and happy.

If he doesn't, however... That's when the issues start.

He'll be very direct with his cruelty.

His ghouls will be constantly watching you.

They'll manhandle you away from anyone you talk to without Primo's permission. That person is found mauled the next morning.

You will be forced to be in his presence. And while he wouldn't go too far, he will touch and hold you without permission. He claims he's doing it out of love, but the moment his cruel side comes out, it's not so much about love as about getting what he wants.

And if he has to force you into becoming his spouse and/or Prime Mover, so be it.

There's a spark of a chance that everything will go back to being nice, though! You just have to behave and let the Stockholm Syndrome do it's work.

Once you're all sweet and in love with him again, his caring and loving side will eventually come out again.

~

Written by Nosferatu.

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @dio-niisio @firefirevampire @mybotanicaldemise @emo-mess @natoncesaid @sirlsplayland @ouijaboardemo @lightbluuestars @igodownjustlikeholymary

[skele-bunny]

I enjoyed your kit Special and Cowbell talk. What were they like when their other brothers started coming around? >w< I bet they were excited big brothers

YIPPEE YIPPEE I LOVE TALKING ABOUT MY 2 FAVS RRAAA

They were curious little things, but yes so fucking excited! Once again, timeline fuckery, I think there's a lot of time between each Emeritus. When Primo came around, this was their first exposure to a human child. Their tails couldn't stop wagging as they tucked their heads in the bassinet and scenting over this newborn human. Super protective and although they were young themselves, and raised as humans, they still had ghoul instincts. That "this is a frail thing. We need to be cautious."

Few times they snapped their jaw at Nihil because they didn't register that humans don't have scents and their ghoul minds couldn't find a scent for Nihil. It calmed down though, and they were just head over heels for their new brother. Constantly found cuddled up. Bluebell loved babysitting until Primo would start crying, then Phil would step in and just scoop! His baby.

Secondo was no different, lots of nuzzle bumps but now that they were older, their instincts grew, too. Absentmindedly grooming him and Sister just "????" When Secondo comes back with his hair sticking up everywhere and smelling like straight ghoul. First time she seen it she took so many pictures as Bluebell was half awake, just his tongue slowly pressed against Secondo's head wnsjkd They started taking baby duty at night as they were super nocturnal at the time, and had no mind keeping Second in his bassinet in their room

Now Terzo, "Terzi" at the time, was a whole new game. They had a little sister, not only did she look different but she just... In general was different. Her hair mimicked Cowbell's from the amount of curls and fluff, and was just the happiest baby ever where as Primo seemed to not like anything and Secondo was a big crier.

Their grooming habits were still there but not as much, and they had started scruffing. However, they knew to only do it when she was older and by her clothes to not harm the little human. The family had to quickly adapt to getting a toddler handheld over by the collar of her onesie. She never minded though, just a big ass smile and babbling

When they all got older, Special unfortunately started getting more rare to come around as he was now full force in his work assigned by Sister. Cowbell wasn't assigned yet, so he got the chance to bond more. They still adored Phil and cherished the times he came around.

Cowbell was not spared from Primo's rolled up newspaper, book bonks, or sandel throws.... No one was. But, still the biggest cuddle bug with Primo. Always loved helping him garden or practice wether with study cards or sudden pop quizzes. Primo was his primary caretaker when Special wasn't around, they both just clicked perfectly. They kept each other in check and on task! When Primo was a young lad still, he tried mimicking his big brothers purrs. Sometimes he absentmindedly still does in his sleep when Bell purrs. No one has the heart to tell Primo he sounds like a broken lawnmower

He and Secondo were the absolute closest, however. Secondo was the one that started "Cowbell" instead of Bluebell. Loved listening to his brother read aloud his studies and just laying his head in Secondo's lap to be pet as he'd work silently. During this time, Bell still had very poor social skills so Secondo was his voice to many conversations. When Secondo would get overwhelmed with his studies, he went straight to Bell and just needed to be held. So, they'd sit and cuddle until Secondo felt okay enough to try again

Now, Terzo? Him and Special were like no other. Even from a young age he'd find his way to Special's office. "YOU WONT BELIEVE WHAT MRS. CRESSIBLE SAID TO SISTER MARY TODAY IN CLASS!!!" and Phil was all about it, love hearing his brother blabber on for hours while he did his homework. Phil was the first one Terzo came out to, who helped him change the wardrobe, tell his family, and even start looking into medically transitioning. Special had to help with his shots for a while as he was too nervous but got into the habit quickly! Even had Phil help pick out a surgeon for top surgery! They're still little gossip pals.

"Guess what Omega said to me."

"Oh fuck, tell me! Also, you need to know what I seen Secondo doing—"

They love their brothers so much, and they love them just as much back! Species difference be gone, these fuckers were a happy family.

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

What about the Papas x reader where it’s a young sibling of sin (About 18-19ish) that looks up to them and helps them out around the ministry whether it’s bringing them snacks/drinks when they can tell Papa is stressed or knows they haven’t eaten to helping out with paperwork. They also know when Papa needs someone to talk to leading to many conversations. Perhaps to a point where they become close friends and trust each other completely?

I can't see this specific scenario turning out in a romantic way because of how young the reader is. So this will be written with the reader being seen as a younger sibling/adopted type of platonic relationship! (Which I believe you were asking for platonic, Anon. I just need to make it clear with the use of 'x' as the relationship dynamic for other readers. :) )

This didn't quite end up coming out exactly like the prompt, so I hope this still fits what you were looking for! I tried to keep it as realistic as I could see it occurring in the ministry. With each Papa having a different type of role!

Please enjoy some wholesome goodness!

Mentor/Big Brother Papas x Student/Little Sibling Reader (Platonic/Familial)

Papa Nihil: For you, it was just supposed to be a job to help rub elbows and get some ass kissing points. No one REALLY wanted to be a caretaker for an old fart like Papa Nihil, right? There were very few opening positions for someone your age in the Ministry, and certainly FEWER for serving a Papa! So you were excited when you could snatch it up! You were the youngest in a group of siblings that would rotate watching over Nihil. Honestly, you were expecting him to be an unbearable grumpy old asshole... You couldn't have dreamed of practical Satanic Royalty being the wholesome grandpa you never had. Yes, Nihil could be grumpy and needy. He had constant wants of his movies being played, of his food prepared right, and never wanting to sit down. But he treated you and his closest staff like family.

Specifically you when he found out that you were still just a young pup in the clergy! Nihil constantly informed you that you were practically a baby and had much more important things to do than attend him. During his times when he is more mellow he has admitted you remind him of his own children when they were new to the world. You suspect he misses his sons, so you don't put up a fuss when you end up watching horror movies with him or taking dinner breaks with him. Nihil asks about your life all of the time, wanting to know about you and your interests. Sometimes he even brags to the visiting Sister Imperator about the accomplishments you've had in your life! (Sister has made it clear she watches you like a hawk, but is pleased at your ability to pacify the old man.) Eventually, it becomes less like a job to you and more like getting to hang out with your grandpa all day! And everyone who sees you both together actually just assumes Nihil has a grandchild no one knew about!

Papa I: Being recognized for scholarly merit or magic comes with incredible benefits. When you joined the ministry you had no idea that you were so gifted in the occult. You were instantly chosen for higher tutoring. When you excelled at learning you were handed off to one of the most prestigious circles in the entire Ministry- Papa Emeritus I's personal apprentices. This both excited and terrified you, considering how dark and serious the eldest Emeritus Brother was. Papa spit fire and brimstone during every sermon he preached, and rumors of his deadly magic were known to every clergy outpost in the world. Being inducted by Papa, you were expecting to get dunked in blood and needing to offer flesh to unlock your training. Instead, you met with a rather blunt yet pleasant Papa. Who was well articulated during his interview and gauging where your abilities would best be nurtured.

You discovered this scary old Antipope was very calm and eager to speak of knowledge. You and the other apprentices would gather weekly under the watchful eye of your mentor. Papa overseeing your collective academics and tests. You two especially became close in time due to your own thirst for knowledge and natural aptitude for magics. Soon you found yourself a proud direct apprentices to the Papa, who was happy to teach you more one on one. He was a brilliant mentor and your bond solidified considerably. He spoke to you closer to an equal than most others, watched over your well being in and out of studies. And sometimes you both shared meals just to speak about life and your personal interests. Papa is a proud mentor to such a fine student! And you found one of the people you trust the most in the entire ministry!

Papa II: You weren't exactly Papa's ASSISTANT! You were more like the errand runner and coffee maker for Papa's Assistant. Either way, it was a good job to have in the ministry with amazing pay and tons of perks! But you'd be lying if you said you weren't terrified in the beginning. Papa II was adored widely but that didn't mean people weren't afraid to work for him. He had a reputation for being precise, detail oriented, scheduled, and unwilling to work with those he deemed incompetent. His assistant even had to teach you his precise espresso order before allowing you to go into his office. You MUST have impressed Papa with your coffee. The first time you actually got to speak to the man was giving him his espresso. He took a sip, offered a 'hmm', and politely thanked you before you knew to leave. According to his assistant... THAT'S THE BEST REACTION YOU COULD GET!

The more you worked the more you joked about being in the Satanic version of The Devil Wears Prada. Your boss was this incomprehensibly powerful man everyone was afraid of. But, you were relieved to find he was quite the gentleman. Just no room for slacking. The more time you worked and proved yourself the more chances you had to speak to Papa. Sometimes he would go out of his way to ask you questions about your thoughts in the ministry and Ghost project. And you had his routine down to not even needing to be told when he needed a break, paper work filed, or to make reservations. His assistant ended up being let go, but you were told directly he trusted you to pick up the pace. So far you are his youngest assistant in record history, but you do your job well. You're not sure if you'd call your working relationship a friendship. But for him, it's pretty darn close. Considering how private he is, that's more than many can claim! And you know that means he trusts you more than he would any other sibling!

Papa III: It's no secret that Papa is the most popular among the younger generations of the clergy! His unconventional approach to tradition and open manner makes him the easiest to relate too. Papa loves to be hands on with his congregation and build rapport and trust with every sibling he meets. In fact, you both met during one of his many meet and greets after his sermon to speak to his adoring fans flock. This was your first time receiving a blessing from THE Papa III. You were so nervous you blurted out how he inspired you finishing your seminary courses and that you wanted to work hard to join the ranks. Papa laughed and offered you a job on the spot. Truthfully, you thought he was just being funny as he immediately gave you a blessing and you went on your merry way. Nothing could prepare you for receiving the paper work to apply for a spot in his direct administration.

You were floored that all of your seminary qualifications could even LAND you an entry level position for a PAPA! According to the hiring ghoul, Papa liked your spunk! You worked your ass off from being lower administration help to fighting for the opening of one of Papa's many assistants. He always considered you the junior and almost mascot of his personal office. Your relationship grew from friendly to sibling like the more you interacted. Papa had a soft spot for your bright eyed optimism and wanting to do good in the world. He often asked for your opinion when it came to relating to the younger siblings and learning new trends and technology. You found Papa to be a surprisingly guarded and private man- but he was honest and direct when speaking with you. But he always made time for you and even took lunch breaks with you. Papa is happy to have you around, and you in turn grew to have a protective and loving big brother figure in him.

Cardinal Copia/Papa IV: You were more or less adopted by Copia years before he ever became Papa. Back before you graduated seminary and had your induction into the Clergy. Copia was a very involved Cardinal in his home cathedral, where you grew up in your final teenage years. Despite being awkward and a huge dork to your peers, you had a soft spot for the Cardinal. He was like having a very nervous uncle who helped fund all of the best field trips. When you were having some difficulties during your studies Copia's office was opened to you. It went from a few check ups to you visiting whenever you needed the support. He listened to you during your bad days, times you needed advice, or were just feeling lonely and like you needed family. Hell, you even did a small summer program that was like an internship working for him!

You both became as close as he checked on you, helped you with your homework, and even volunteered to oversee your class events. You felt safe with Copia and he grew to adore you like his own child! You knew he wasn't able to have kids for a while, and you weren't really close to your own relatives. It was nice going into Seminary feeling like you had a real parent backing you up. He's practically still your dad these days, even with his new Papa schedule! Copia keeps up on your life, your new position in the ministry, and you've both joked about him adopting you so you could put 'Emeritus' on your driving license.

[ix-c-999]

Greetings to all. I am the Nameless Ghoul Fictive that our System split. Technically I am Omega Ghoul, but only in the Sense that I was the Rhythm Guitarist who played with Papa Emeritus III and consider my Personality to be unsourced from Canon or Fanon.

If anybody remembers us posting about a very uncomfortable Situation with our Brother, our Fictive of Terzo (Papa Emeritus III) would seem to be connected to it. Imagine a Trauma Holder for something that was stressful and bad but not traumatic per se and he is that. (Although he additionally holds Stress related to past Experiences with Mental Illness that I believe would count as traumatic...)

I am a personal Caretaker to him as well as an Addiction Manager, as our Version of him had a Breakdown in our Timeline where he felt very guilty over something and became very addicted to Alcohol and Cannabis. The Thing for which he felt Guilt is something he feels Guilt for still, and it is very loosely analogous to something from this Life.

Terzo is not fully certain how he feels about the Rest of our System's recent Dealings with his Fandom (as some of them relate to Interpretations of Things for which he feels Guilt), but he leans towards enjoying it (while also feeling a great Deal of internal Conflict over it).

We may speak more of our Timelines and Natures later, and Vyvian expects to draw me unmasked soon (as I do not tend to wear my Mask in-space).

[enchantcdstories]

Topolino

Word count: 1198 Summary: Copia gets to try his hand out at comforting his niece after hearing her cry late one night. AO3 link

Idea based on both @/transmascemail’s art (@bitterconfusion on tumblr) and @/PAPAEMERITUSIl ‘s idea on twitter (https://twitter.com/PAPAEMERITUSIl/status/1601070083056742400)

(https://twitter.com/transmascemail/status/1601683206885224448)

Babies weren’t a rare sight around the ministry. Be it families that had been started before moving into the old building, or families that had started in the very halls everyone in the Ghost Project called home, there was always some indication of a baby in the unholy house. 

Copia never really paid much attention to them, always busy with his own cardinal work or whatever else the ministry needed help with. It wasn’t his duty to watch over the clergy’s young ones. He would stop and say hello to the babies if he passed them in the hall, wrapped safely in their parents or caretaker’s arms, but he never did much more than that. 

It had been a long night, full of paperwork and transporting various books across the cold, empty hallways. It was tasking, tedious work, but it kept Copia’s mind at ease that he was indeed a part of the project. Sighing, Copia gently pushed the door to his apartment open, stretching his back as he shut it behind him. Another day done, and now he could gratefully fall into his bed for the night. 

Slipping out of his cassock, Copia changed into his track suit– something comfy and cozy he could fall asleep in. He was looking forward to sleeping more than anything, his old joints exhausted. A grunt and he was laid in bed, the sound of nothing but his lava lamp humming through the empty room. The warmth of his blankets enveloping him in warmth and softness. He’d be asleep in no time, he thought, his brain giving into the long awaited sleep– 

Only for the shrill sound of a baby crying to snap him right back to the waking world. 

It was a usual cry than the typical ones he had heard in his time at the Ministry. Something about this cry was different, lonelier.  It also certainly coming from a different wing of the old church-like building; One that was reserved for only the Emeritus family. Sighing, Copia swung his legs off the side of the bed and slowly sat up, grunting with a small effort. The crying continued, and Copia wondered why one of the siblings wasn’t coming to the child’s aid. Everyone couldn’t be busy enough to ignore the cries, could they? 

Putting one foot in front of the other, Copia pulled his door open and winced– the sound of the baby shrieking only getting louder. What a wonderful way to finish a day, he thought. Still, curiosity made him bite the inside of his cheek, wondering what was going on that he wasn’t allowed to get a good night's sleep. The crying got louder the more Copia walked towards a familiar hallway and door: Terzo’s door. 

It was the room that Terzo shared with his partner on most nights, one that had welcomed a new family member– his niece. Now Copia’s interest peaked even more, considering that it was partially his own blood crying on the other side of the door. Was Terzo’s partner not attending to the child? Was something wrong? Panic chilled his blood slightly as he raised a gloved hand to rap at the door, looking up and down the empty hallways for any signs of someone else coming to peek their heads at the noise. When no one answered the door, nor came to his aid to see what was going on, Copia gently reached for the door handle and turned it. It unlocked, of course – no one having the real need to really lock doors in this place other than for the most intimate times – and swung open quietly. 

Copia could see the problem near instantly. Terzo’s partner, who looked positively exhausted, had passed out cold– snuggled up under blankets just as Copia had been a few minutes prior. Even the sound of the baby couldn’t wake them up, it seemed. Copia turned his attention to the crying, now shrill and banging in his ears. Maybe their parent was used to the sound by now, but he certainly wasn’t. There, lying in a cot in the next room over, was his niece, looking rather displeased as tears streamed down her face.

“Eh, why the tears, bambina?” Copia cooed, looking behind him to make sure he didn’t wake the sleeping body in the next room. He wasn’t sure what to do, if he was honest. He hadn’t even held the child yet, let alone any child. She showed no signs of stopping, despite looking right up at him. Copia waved his hands above the child, fingers wiggling as he made shooshing noises. 

“Easy there, little one…” He sounded unsure, as if he was guessing on what to say to a crying baby. “Mustn’t wake your parent, see?” Copia threw a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing softly. He kept his voice just above a whisper, both for the child’s sake and the parents sake. Copia looked back down to the child, his eyes soft and suddenly empathetic. The child certainly missed her parents, he thought. Terzo was out on tour, spreading the word of Ghost via rituals across the world. Perhaps the child could sense he wasn’t there? 

“Is that it? You miss your papa?” He said, hands resting on the cot. “That is understandable. I would miss mine as well.” He hummed. Shooting the sleeping body on the couch one last look, Copia reached down to scoop his hands under the baby, gently lifting the wiggling little body up. The baby was cozy, wrapped tightly in her swaddling blankets. The moment the baby was in the air and Copia was gently moving to support its head and body, the crying faded to a soft whimper. The air almost seemed too quiet. 

“There we go,” Copia whispered. He really wasn’t sure what he was doing – but it was working. “Uncle Copia has you now, no need for the tears.” The child merely made a squeaking noise in response. Gently, the squeaks and whimpers faded to nothing, merely soft sleeping noises. How long had he been standing there that he hadn’t noticed the baby had fallen asleep? How he wished he could follow suit as well. With the baby settled and the room silent, Copia gently set the child back down into her cot. 

“Your papa will be home soon, sweet one, no more tears now. You are an Emeritus, no? You must be brave, Topolino.” He soothed. Copia gave one last look to the sleeping child before gently turning, giving a silent noise as he came face to face with Terzo’s partner, now leaning against the doorway with a smile on their face. 

“You have a way with her. I didn’t know this.” They whispered. Copia felt his cheeks redden and he waved a hand, shrugging the situation off. 

“It was nothing, you were tired and need the rest.” He shrugged, moving to slip out the door way. Terzo’s partner watched Copia with a tired smile and nodded. 

“Thank you, I’ll have to consider you for babysitting duty next time.” They sounded grateful for the extra rest, if a little embarrassed that they needed the help. Copia nodded dutifully. 

“For my topolino? Of course.”

[copiousloverofcopia]

Hey there! ❤️‍🔥

My commission for the wonderful @a-tired-sparrow done!!

This is their AFAB Original Character Deacon Via and Papa Emeritus IV! Thank you for commissioning me!!!

Love confessions and hot steamy sex abound....

As always open for Asks/requests. Please see my carrd in the pin post for commission info!!!

A Whisper of a Thrill

Also available here on AO3!

Definitely NSFW below the cut

It was a typical morning in the Abbey. The hum of activity buzzed low and gentle in the halls, as siblings began to make their way to and from their destinations. Their familiar paths traveled along once more in their daily routines. The world was moving in circadian rhythm—natural but mundane. 

The sentiment of nothing special carried over into the Deacon's office. Whisper jumped up on the window sill. Claws sinking in well worn cracks of the wood, as he made a spot for himself. The cat stretched out and yawned, curling up in the light from the stained glass. His tail tucked under chin and completely content to warm himself in the rays from the sun.

This was his favorite spot to snooze. He could stay close to Deacon Via as they worked through the day. Whisper would listen to their voice, like a lullaby, as he slumbered. Via sat quietly at their desk, running their fingers over the polished wood surface and shifting around the pile of papers back in order. Whisper must have jumped up here with all this mess, they thought, tapping the papers down and back into some semblance of order. Via waited, anxiously, for the inevitable first call that would set the tone for the day. 

The Abbey was never short on issues and problems to be solved. While the stress was ever pressing, Via was always willing to step up and help. If you needed something done, they would make it happen. Via had earned everyone's respect, having spent years in service to the Ministry. They were dependable and caring, their caretaking nature always at the forefront—sometimes even to their own detriment. 

If the office walls could talk, they'd speak of the countless hours and days the Deacon spent wrangling siblings and ghouls alike. Ensuring everyone was happy in the workplace was no easy task, but in between hearing complaints about Nihil and Dew's behavior, a staple of their normal day, and managing everything else they somehow made it work. Via sat, their patience beginning to wear thin, as they tapped their fingers along the desk. Seconds turning to minutes, they adjusted themselves in their crimson brocade vest and brushed a lock of their dark brunette hair from their face. Waiting and waiting for that very first call, which insisted in drawing out it's arrival, as if just to torture them. 

Sure enough, movements after Via had just leaned back in their leather chair–a note of relaxation only attempted to be reached, the phone rang. Via let out a sigh, "here goes nothing Whisp." They said, their gloved hand reaching out to take hold of the black phone before them. The ringing was vibrating the handle in their hands as they lifted it to their ear. "Hello this is the Human, Ghoul, and other anomalies resources department. You've reached the Deacon how can I help you?"

"Vi—Deacon…um…hello it's Papa…" Copia muttered on the other end of the line, a smile spread wide across Via's face. Hearing his voice was something that made Via's heart soar. They had met, once upon a time, two closet dwellers hiding from the outside world. The pair growing closer in between stacks of post-its and copy paper.  

The moment felt lived a lifetime ago, when Via was still a sibling and Copia, an awkward Cardinal. A moment that made Via feel truly seen, all their flaws and talents, their strengths and weaknesses—their whole soul bared freely for the first time. How Via longed for that feeling again, but the time came too soon when the Cardinal left. The two having reunited only when Via transferred to take over their new position at the Abbey, awe struck when seeing Copia—now Papa waiting for them. 

"Oh Papa, of course what can I do you for? I mean…do for you?" Via laughed, nervously awaiting his response. 

"I was wondering if you had anything on your schedule for this afternoon. I have some important matters to speak to you about and well I–I would prefer to have all the time we need to discuss it." Copia asked. The Deacon scrambled around on the desk, in and out of drawers—searching for their planner. Finally when Via found it, it was on the ground beneath the desk with another littering of papers. Via picked it up, shooting an irritated glance over to Whisper. Via quickly flipped through the pages to today's date—completely clear.

"It seems I have all the time we might need Papa. I am open today." They responded. The other end of the line got quiet, when suddenly Copia cleared his throat. 

"Well wonderful. Then I shall stop over…um.. say about 2 if that works for you." He suggested. Via could already feel their heart pounding away inside.

"Yes Papa, that will be just fine." Via said, hearing Copia hum his approval just before the crisp click of the call being disconnected. Via sunk back into the chair, their heart beating so fast they thought they'd pass out. Ever since that first moment in the supply closet, Via had developed feelings for Copia. While Copia had been a close companion and wonderful friend, they were never sure if he shared their feelings. 

The uncertainty was growing an ache inside them that Via had trouble concealing on more than one occasion. Part of why they'd dived so head first into their role as Deacon was to help distract them from the burning desire to be with Copia—the sweet awkward Cardinal turned Papa. Via damned themselves for having not acted before. Everything would have been so much easier then, but now they both had roles to fill and expectations to meet. 

"First call today is done and well…I think it's gonna be a good one." Via told Whisper, the cat smacking his lips, deep in dreamland.

Copia paced across the ornate Transylvania rug that filled the center of his office. His black and gold vestments, a bit moist with his own sweat. He tapped his gloves fingers together, walking back and forth—wondering if he'd be able to stop himself before wearing a hole beneath him. He aimlessly went to the book shelf pulling off his journal, while little Rigatoni cleaned his whiskers just above him in his cage.

"Oh Satanas…give me strength. I know what I want, I just need to go for it. Isn't that right, topolino?" Copia asked, Rigatoni scrubbing away at his little face. "Who am I kidding? You never give me advice, where is Formaggio? At least he listens." Copia chuckled to himself. He'd had his heart set on Via for a long time. Their sweet voice, music to Copia's ears and their generous nature made his heart swell. No, it wasn't long after their first meeting he knew—he was in love.

When Copia returned without Via to the Abbey and ascended into the miter, he felt the empty spot inside him calling out to be filled. After Via was transferred, all the new Papa could think about was how much he wanted them. To hold, to kiss, to love, to…

He needed Via and with each passing day, the need only grew stronger. Seeing them in the halls, their smile when helping the siblings, the way they lit up when he'd spot them at Mass—it had become too much to contain. Copia woke up that morning determined he'd be damned to Heaven if he allowed it to go unspoken any longer. Promising himself, that even if Via did not return his affections, at least his heart would be free from the torment. 

Today was the day, the thrill and excitement mixed with anxiety and apprehension coursed steadily through his veins. Copia watched the Monstrance clock ticking, waiting for the agreed upon time to come to pass. He took several deep breaths, the incense burning on his desk filling his senses. He worked up his nerve to do what he'd been waiting for, for so long. The chime sounded off, the clock striking 2 and Copia could feel the shakiness of his constitution beginning to show. 

"This is it, let's do this." Copia affirmed to himself as he removed Rigatoni from his cage. The rat making a home upon Copia's shoulder as Copia made his way to the Deacon's office.

Via sat back in their chair attempting to remain calm, all the while yearning. Praying for more than an average afternoon meeting. As the time came and went, Via convinced themself that Copia wouldn't come. That he'd been caught up in other more important affairs.

Moments later, the sounds of footfalls in the hallway echoed into the Deacon's office. Instantly their heart was set aflame. A knocking at the door sent Via straight up out of their seat and toward the large oak door of the office. Via was pleased when their eyes met with Copia's as the door opened up to the hall. "Papa, thank you for coming." Via said, side stepping to allow him inside. Copia smiled and walked in, but did not sit as Via would have expected. 

Rigatoni ran down Copia's arm and along the floor, scurrying himself over to where Whisper was sleeping. Both Copia and Via, finding the two of them disgustingly adorable as they snuggled up together like littermates. The air of the room shifted, something quietly lingering there as Copia and Via refocused back onto themselves. The awkward silence ended when Copia cleared his throat. 

"Passerotto, it is so good to see you. " Copia began, his words filling Via with such joy. It had been a while now since he had called them little sparrow—the instant the words left his lips, Via's blood was set on fire. 

"Papa, why don't you sit down?" Via suggested, smiling away. Copia smirked back, his mind distracted with just how handsome Via looked before him. His eyes tracing up from their leather pants to the tailored red vest that concealed the swell of their breasts. Copia stared conspicuously at the way the grucifix earring dangle against the delicate skin of Via's neck. 

The Papa's gaze resting finally on Via's lips. The small scar, like a beacon calling for them to be kissed. He knew it was now or never. Via had walked back behind the desk, waiting for Copia to settle in the chair across from them, but the Papa remained standing—his staring undeniable. "Papa?" Via said, calling back Copia's attention and wondering just what thoughts he had seemed to become lost in. 

"Via, I…I—I don't think I can pretend any longer." He began, his eyes focused now on the floor. Copia's confidence, not where he wanted it to be. Via shook their head in disbelief, their brow furrowed–unsure if they'd heard him right. 

"I'm sorry Pap—" Via began, their words halted as Copia started coming towards them. Via took in a breath as Copia held out to his hand to caress Via's soft cheek. They could feel the trembling of Copia's embrace. The evidence of his nerves, hinted through his otherwise confident demeanor. Via's own body, now beginning to respond. Adrenaline, rushing through them—a heat settling in their core. 

"Caro…" he began, his thumb rubbing gently across Via's cheek as the rest of their body ached for his touch. The feeling was so surreal, had they not been certain they were awake, they would have thought it was all a dream.

"What—what is it Co—Papa?" Via began, feeling the heat moving between their legs, shifting a bit where they stood without a conscious thought. Copia noticed, his eyes now on Via's body as he took in a deep breath. Copia rounded the desk, closing the space between him and Via, as they backed up against it. His nostrils flared and his gaze turned hungry, saying everything without saying a word. 

"I really tried, you know? I tried to exorcise it from myself. Be rid of these urges, praying to Satanas that—that I could control them. For so long now caro…so long I can't even re—remember when it began. It is too much to endure." Copia stumbled over his confession, his body now so close to Via's. Via swallowed back hard. Their breathing hastened, as the increased rising and falling of their chest became evident, though they tried to appear neutral.

"Papa what are y–" Via asked, Copia bringing a finger to their lips. The feel of his fingertip was soft and dangerous. A promise of more made with his touch. 

"I have allowed the whispers from my heart to become loud—loud chanting inside me. There is no denying it any longer, Via. I—I must have you. Please tell me…tell me you feel the same as I do?" Copia begged, his mismatched eyes pleading for reassurance. 

"Oh Papa—I do." Via said, their face flushed over in a brilliant shade of pink. Surprised that they would so willingly confess their true feelings for him. The heat between their legs swirling–fluid seeping from their arousal.

"Sí. I knew you felt it too…we are kindred spirits you and I." Copia began, bringing his face along Via. Breathing in their scent as he spoke again, "Oh how I have imagined our bodies pressed together. Let me take care of you, caro. I've wanted this for so long." Copia purred, his lips now grazing the shell of Via's ear.

"Papa." Via moaned, already beginning to come undone. Copia began kissing along the side of their neck. His lips, tingling along their skin as he went. 

"No caro, Copia please." He insisted as pulled back, staring deeply into Via's misty eyes. Licking his lips as he traced the line of buttons on Via's vest with his hand. 

"C-Copia." Via hummed. The Papa wasted no time, lifting Via up onto their desk, papers cascading to the floor like the confetti of rituals. Via let out a yelp as they settled on the desk, surprised by Copia's aggressive approach. He pulled his gloves off with his teeth. Via feeling themselves pulling inside with anticipation. Copia's mouth on Via's, before they knew it. The sinful amount of pleasure Via felt, lost in their first kiss was indescribable. 

"I need to feel you, feel you on my hand." Copia insisted, his bare hand sliding down past Via's waistband and under their panties. Via's head fell back as Copia reached their dripping wet folds. He began to slide his fingers through them, painfully slow at first and then gaining some more momentum before sinking them deep inside Via's cunt.

"Oh fuck!" Via cried out as Copia's fingers pressed tight against the upper walls inside them, pumping in and out. They felt themselves grip tightly to the edge of the desk, their hips raising up to meet with the motion of Copia's hand. 

"Pants, ta–please take them off." Copia all but commanded, his hardening cock now very evident within the leg of his pants. Via did as they were told Copia's hand, never leaving from inside them. His fingers slid deliciously out and up to the bud of Via's clit.

"Copia, that feels so good, I'm—I think I'm gonna cum." Via cried out as Copia continued the gentle swirling of his fingers across their clit.

"Cum for me passerotto. Show me how much you want me inside you." He moaned, feeling Via's body quivering inside. Via came hard and fast, a feeling that sent pure ecstasy throughout their body. Copia slipped his hands through their folds once more, bringing them to his mouth and licking Via's satisfaction from each of them. Wasting not a drop before he was fighting to remove himself from his clothes.

His black peasant shirt tossed to the floor along with his pants leaving him bare before them. Via's mouth watered at the sight of Copia's naked form. He stroked himself, his cock already dripping with anticipation. Via undid their vest and removed their remaining vestments—matching Copia's exposure. 

Both sets of eyes feasting on eachother, pleased with everything they saw. Via jumped off the desk, dropping to their knees before Copia. Via now face to face with his leaking cock. 

"Oh caro y-you don't have t–" Copia began, Via slipping him inside their mouth before he could finish the words. 

"Oh but I want to " they said, pulling away for only a moment before sliding him back through the tight ring of their lips. Copia's mouth fell open as Via took his entire length into their mouth. Via swallowed them, deep, licking as they went. The head of Copia's cock rubbing against the back of their throat. Via's tongue ring, pressing and gliding across the sensitive spots along the shaft as they sucked. 

Copia ran his fingers through Via's hair. His eyes were shut tight as he tried so hard not to cum. Via felt themselves dripping down along their thighs. They needed Copia—and now. 

"Papa, please I need you inside me." Via whimpered, their pussy pulsing with the thoughts of Copia filling them up. 

"You want me to fuck you passerotto, cum inside you—make you mine?" Copia growled as Via continued to stroke his cock in their hand. Via looked up at Copia, their eyes pleading with him. "Hands on the desk caro, I want to show you how much I love you." He ordered.

I…I love you, he said I love you, Via thought to themselves as they stood to face him, both panting and craving more. "Love?" Via asked, praying they hadn't misheard.

"Sí Via, I have loved you for so long." Copia confessed, pulling them close to him, their naked bodies pressed tightly together.

"I love you Cope." Via said, tears streaming down their cheeks as Copia took Via's mouth into his, their tongues dancing with one another. Copia pulled back, the couples breathing labored. Copia brought his head down, pulling Via's nipple into his mouth and gently sucked. Via continued to stroke his cock between them. Copia pulled back, he was too close, Via's nipple falling from between his lips. His eyes now burning—it was time.

"Now be a good little sparrow and put your hands on the desk." Copia growled. Via blushed once more. Their sweaty palms laid out flat on the surface as they bent forward, Copia lining up his cock with their entrance. 

"Ah!" Via cried out as Copia ran his cock quickly through their wet folds and then plunged deep inside them. His hips thrusting in a decadent rhythm as Via rutted their cunt hard back against him, wanting all the friction felt between them.

"Mmm…Via you feel so good inside." Copia hummed as he pounded hard inside of them. The sounds of his hips meeting with the swell of Via's ass–obscene and powerful. Whisper covering Rigatoni's eyes as they continued their ministrations. 

"My love. Please…please cum inside me. I wanna cum for you!" Via cried out as their insides throbbed and squeezed, seizing down all around Copia's cock. 

"Oh Satanas! Via I'm cumming!" Copia whined, Via's cunt milking his cock for every last drop of his seed. Copia fell forward, spent and content against the warmth of Via's back. We waited a moment before pulling out, both of them, whimpering from sensitivity as he came out. 

Copia pulled Via around to face him. Via's face wet from tears, tears of pure joy and pleasure. Copia brushed the dampened hair from Via's face and kissed their lips. The warmth from his kiss reaffirming their love and bond—now forever revealed to the universe 

Via sighed, pure happiness and a sense of relief pouring over them. Never had they imagined–a dream, so sweet and magical as this would come true. "We shall never again deny this to ourselves passerotto. We are now one. We belong to each other, always. I love you." Copia said, pulling Via close to him. His embrace, warm and comforting. 

"Never Cope. I love you too." Via replied, smiling so hard it hurt their cheeks. They were happier than they'd ever felt in her whole life. Via began to chuckle, Copia's arms wrapped tightly around them. 

"What is so funny?" He asked, nervously laughing along with them.

"I was just thinking…my theory is right. That first call really does set the tone for the whole day."

Notes:

Passerotto-little sparrow

[shinsengumi-archives]

I found the twitter account of one one Okita Mitsu’s descendants https://twitter.com/oki045/status/1259145304651083778?s=61&t=dgsv3BtuXS1AGH5aV7mp3A

Thanks for sharing this!

Okita Ikuo (沖田郁雄) is the great-great-grandson of Okita Mitsu. He actually really looks like that famous composite photo commonly mistaken for Souji 😅

According to this article, he’s the current head of the Okita family. His father was Okita Tetsuya (沖田哲也), a scholar of public administration, emeritus professor at the Faculty of Political Science and Economics at Meiji University, and Director of the Center for lnternational Programs (1, 2) focusing on Canadian Studies, who passed away in November 2000 (obituary).

From a quick Google search, according to Linkedin, Okita Ikuo works as a private secretary at the House of Councillors. After seeing other photos of him on his Instagram and Facebook, I think he kind of looks like these 2 possible photos of Okita Souji 😅

Here's what I learned from his tweets about the Shinsengumi:

He donated a photo of Okita Mitsu to the Shinsengumi Hometown History Museum in Hino. (source). “I wondered if I could have sent Mitsu back to her hometown. I don't really know if Hino was her true hometown, but at least she returned to the place where she spent time with Souji.” (source)

“There are no photographs or portraits of Souji.” (source)

“According to the scraps of lore passed down in the Okita family. Mitsu liked to gather people and have banquets. It's said that she gathered the "continental ronin" [T/N: Japanese who lived, traveled and conducted political activities in continental Asia from the early Meiji period to the end of World War II, in other words, colonists] at her son's house in Dalian and took care of them. Well, Souji was also helped by Yagi-san and other caretakers, so maybe she was paying it forward for their kindness to her brother. It's interesting to think about it.” (source)

Okita Souji was also fully-licensed at the Chiba Dojo. (source)

Okita Souji was a tall man for his time. (source)

It's been handed down in the Okita family that Souji used to slay people right after smiling and laughing in his daily life. (source)

“Inoue Genzaburo was not a good-natured uncle like he’s often portrayed in dramas. He was a staunch swordsman like a warrior from the Warring States period.” (source)

He confirmed that Okita was at Ikedaya according to the information passed down in his family (source)

“Kondo Isami vaguely dreamed that Hijikata Toshizo would reach Goryokaku and that the peasants and local samurai of Tama would decide the fate of the country. Ryoma acted early on with the awareness that commoners would become involved in politics. It was an awareness that Souji couldn't reach.” (source)

As a descendant of the Shinsengumi, he is deeply offended by the presence of Yasukuni shrine [T/N: this is the WW2 war criminal shrine, also enshrined members of the anti-Shogunate side who died during the Bakumatsu] for insulting and defaming the Shinsengumi. He believes State Shintoism is the pinnacle of cowardice for taking advantage of the fact that ordinary people would not sue (source). He would never visit Yasukuni because he’s a descendant of the opposing side, he’s Christian, he believes it would be better to thank those who had a higher mortality rate than the soldiers, such as transport crews, and he couldn’t forgive the suicide attackers. (source)

In the past, the Shinsengumi were portrayed as villains and didn't play a big role. Thanks to Shiba Ryotaro's novels, they became popular. He’s grateful as a descendant of the Shinsengumi. (source)

The families of the core members of the Shinsengumi were not descendants of Takeda Shingen's surviving vassals, rather vassals of Hojo. (source)

“As a descendant of the Shinsengumi, it is a family motto handed down from ancestors to beat off the "patriots" of the Meiji Restoration.” (source)

“Why does the Okita family, who is based in Tama, live in Tsurumi, Yokohama? That's because Tsurumi used to be a part of Tama.” (source)

“The Shinsengumi was a group of young people. I'm sure there were some serious historical dramas, but it couldn't have been without romantic elements.” He supports the idea of love stories involving Shinsengumi, and said this in response to someone making music for a romance novel series about the Shinsengumi (source)

Okita Souji’s descendants could visit his grave any time (source). For everyone else, it’s only open on the anniversary of his death. (source)

A crowd lining up to visit Okita’s grave on the anniversary of his death (source)

[lickingtheflames]

Ocs I'm considering making blogs for:

Quin, quintessence ghoulette and twin of Rain

Juniper, earth ghoul, they're the caretaker of Primo's garden

Lady Beauty Emeritus, secret sister of Secondo, blind and has a magical power of knowledge

[emerituscs]

Do You Have a Comfortable Hospital Bed?

Well we, at Emeritus know that your patients are not at home and we also understand that to recover quickly your patients need a peaceful and good sleep when they are ill and on the hospital bed. To get a good sleep when a person is sick is quite difficult but if sleep is disturbed by a hospital bed that needs repair or needs maintenance, we are the best choice. Reporting to the hospital staff or management would be the first thing to do. As a nurse or an attendant if you find something wrong with the smooth movement or operation of the bed, it is time that you call a hospital bed repair service to look into it or for maintenance. Once the bed is working smoothly, your patient’s healing will quicken because they are not uncomfortable and are getting a good sleep. If you are looking online for help while searching for hospital bed repair near me, check out our website, link provided at the bottom of the blog.

Our hospital bed repair service team provides useful tips on how to make a hospital bed more comfortable in this blog. The first step is to ensure that your patient gets enough room, or the bed size is suitable for your patient. A smaller bed will not give space to move, turn and lie on their sides. This will make them prone to injuries. Almost all of the hospital beds are adjustable. They come in various widths and lengths. This enables the staff to fit patients with any height and size in the beds. If you have noticed that your adjustable hospital bed having trouble expanding, you should call Emeritus’s hospital bed repair service to look into it. 

Next important point to have a well maintained hospital bed is to use a right mattress for your patients. Not only an adjustable bed frame, but a comfortable mattress will help improve the mobility of your patient. Regular mattresses lack the comfort and distribution of pressure that are needed for a patient who is bedridden. 

Recently, all the adjustable beds are equipped with table attachments. If your hospital bed doesn’t have the facility, you should call our hospital bed service team to inquire for an inspection and add the accessory. It comes with convenient handles and adjustable heights for the patient or the caretaker to adjust it according to them. Adding an over the bed table increases their bed comfort. 

Apart from these, there are further adjustable features that increase the comfort level of a patient like assistive functions that can be used to lift up or go down while trying to sit up or lie down on their own. Adjustable handle functions that help bed repositioning. Added side rails that help to avoid falling while the patient is sleeping or the patient is a young adult. Apart from bed repairs and maintenance, hospital stretcher repair services are also provided by Emeritus’s repair and maintenance technician team. Visit https://www.emerituscs.com/ to know about our hospital bed service and maintenance.

[onedaughterofman]

You, Forever (Chapter VI: Your friend Death)

Pairing: Papa Emeritus IV x g/n reader

Summary: The Clergy takes something from Copia, but he refuses to let go.

Warnings: Mentions of blood and corpses, implied violence. This is almost 5K words, grab a snack and a drink. Happy (un)holidays, friends!

PART I / PART II / PART III / PART IV / PART V

There’s a picture on the desk.

The glass of the frame is cracked and the ink is discolored, faded into a faint print. Time has not been kind to it, yet the image remains visible. In different shades of brown and beige, the silhouette of a child occupies a big part of the paper. The big smile reveals a few teeth missing and there’s still a remnant of baby fat on his cheeks.

Next to the child, face and most of the torso out of the frame, there’s someone else. The slender arm is cladded in black, a hand resting on the kid’s shoulder.

Even after all this time, Copia still remembers that afternoon. They took the picture the day he received his first unholy communion. He must have been around eight years old, maybe even a bit younger. At that time, he was so full of hope and pride for his future.

The person next to him is Imperator.

Oh, how happy she was that day. Copia remembers how she hugged him tight, cradling his face between her hands as she swooned on how cute he looked with his new habits. Imperator was ecstatic, cheerful as he hadn’t ever seen her before.

And Copia felt just the same. Not being used to the attention, he devoured every little crumb Sister offered, recalling her praises and love for the days to come. Hell, maybe even for years to come.

To his teachers and caretakers, he was another faceless orphan. But to Imperator, he was talented and promising. “One day,” she said that afternoon, walking him around the Ministry while holding onto his hand. “One day, all of this will be yours, C. It’s your destiny.”

Copia used to love Imperator, like a child loves their mother. A part of him still loves her the same, no matter how much she has hurt him.

No matter how hard she has betrayed him.

The glass of the frame reflects Papa Emeritus’ face when he picks it up. Under the faint candlelight, he looks like a phantom, like a corpse ready to be buried deep within the dirt. There’s a heavy frown on his brows and his jaw is clenched tight, making his mouth nothing but a thin line.

Papa’s voice is full of air when he speaks up, hoarse by the lack of use. “Memory is a treacherous thing.”

In front of him, the Nameless Ghoul tilts his head. His hands remain clutched behind his back as he stands tall, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. His mask reflects the flickering flames. “Indeed,” he says, but he has no a tittle of idea of where this conversation is venturing into.

Oblivious to it, Papa continues. The picture dances between his fingers, making the leather of his gloves squeak with every slight moment. “The more you cling to it, the more it distorts and changes shape.”

For a long moment, the creature remains silent. It is not wise to interrupt Papa Emeritus IV, not since the incident happened. The pestilence of blood clings to every fiber of his being, coating the whole Ministry with the coppery smell. There’s so much death around. It wouldn’t be hard to trace a path from the Ministry to the gates of Hell using the blood of men and women who died under his fist.

“Sometimes the person you love is made of nothing but memories. You recall them fondly, take them out of a box one by one and hold them between your fingers, but it comes to the point where you don’t realize where the memory ends and the imagination begins. Often I think I’m clinging to my own fantasies, and not reality.”

Human vessels have their limitations. The ghoul holds his breath as much as he can, enjoying the burn in his lungs in an effort not to utter any remark. He bears the sensation until the need to inhale becomes overwhelming and there’s no other option but to yield. The oxygen emits a wave of relief to his body.

Fortunately, Papa Emeritus is lost deep inside his mind. Lately, life has been unkind to him. The night terrors have subsided, forcing him into a never ending state of solitude. You have become an elusive figure, a misty memory that dances inside his brain day and night. No matter how much he has run through the hallways, screaming your name and begging for your forgiveness, you are nowhere to be found.

Copia can’t stand it.

He thinks about you nearly always, reminiscing the words, laughs and looks you both shared in the past. Gradually, he can feel your real essence slipping through his fingers, becoming nothing but a wild imagination and a trick of his mind. The more you are missing, the more you become a shadow he’s almost sure he hallucinated one day in the past, when the loneliness was too much and he couldn’t endure it anymore.

And yet, there are pictures, little letters and candy wraps stored neatly inside a box on his vanity table that prove you are real. Copia only needs to win you back, to make you forgive him and show you he can protect you. He can win all the battles and come back home victorious, asking only for a kiss in return for his eternal devotion.

Over the deep silence, the ghoul decides to speak. “Humans have weak memories. They tend to be forgetful, to disregard important parts of reality and then fill the gaps with lies that suit them.”

Papa’s eyebrows twitch as his pupils focus back on the office, turning his head to face the ghoul. “Aren’t we all the same?” He asks, and there’s a bitter strain on his words.

“Lying to myself serves no purpose. That’s only sentimentalism.”

“Oh, right. You infernal creatures are above it.”

“Or below. I don’t understand the point of it, that’s all.”

For a long moment, Copia nods absentmindedly. While some people might believe sentimentalism serves nothing, he would rather believe it to be the motor of all his actions. He’s a sentimental being. Sentimentalism is what gives humans humanity, what feeds the spark of his soul and warms the blood in his veins.

Copia dwells in sentimentalism, but maybe that’s why he’s been so weak. He has let his feelings get a hold of his logical mind, influencing his judgment with nothing but lies. And worse, he has let people hurt you and get away with it.

“Have you ever been in love with someone?”

The ghoul’s shoulders flinch at the question. It is something no one has ever asked before, and for a few seconds he meditates the answer. His head tilts to the side, making the light shine on the dark glass of his lenses. “I have loved no one, and never shall.” He says, finally.

Copia lets out a choked laugh. “What a sad existence it’s the one you’re damned to. Maybe it’s actually a good thing to be human.”

“Isn’t it too painful? To love someone means to accept that you'll lose them one day.”

There’s something sharp in Papa Emeritus’ face, a piercing dagger in his pupils. The energy permeates the room to the brim, making the sigil on the ghoul’s skin tingle and begin to burn. Papa’s white eye casts a faint glow when he shakes his head before gathering a deep breath, visibly calming down.

The ghoul doesn’t mention it. As much as he enjoys to feed off emotions, especially strong ones, he prefers the rather positive ones. Dread and anger are too bitter on his palate, too unstable inside his core.

“Good thing I’m not completely doomed by human rules, then. I have the power of the infernal divine on my side. I’m Papa now.”

“The first one I have ever seen to send so many souls to the Old One. Impressive.”

Outside, the bugs sing and the wind blows, signaling another peaceful night. The air is hot, thick and a bit humid. It sits heavy on the lungs, as an omen of heavy rain to come that will bath the ground with cleansing water.

Tomorrow there will be a storm. Yet, tonight the fire is the one that will purify the impure.

Following his train of thought, Papa Emeritus takes a deep breath too. The air fills his chest, fresh and cold, leaving behind only a resemblance of tranquility. “I have loved people and still do. Love requires sacrifice, but there’s no sacrifice without blood.”

Humans are entertaining. The ghoul knows there is nothing like it in the depths of Hell. Creatures like him, moved only by things that pleasure or displeasure them, do not seek for justifications as such. You kill someone because you want to kill them, you let them live because you desire so. To use something as love to justify a whole massacre…

That’s humanity. The darkest, coldest part of it.

And Satan, how much he’s amazed by it.

The ghoul’s eyes are vivid under the dark glass of the mask. In front of him, Papa Emeritus waves a hand as he stands up and begins to walk out of the room. “Ghoul,” he calls. “Let the rest know it is time. And Tell Imperator to meet me by the pyre tonight.”

Standing still, the infernal creature bows his head. In the gloomy room, his smile full of white, sharp teeth reflects the faint glow of the black candles as he speaks. “Will do.”

As Papa Emeritus disappears behind a closed door, the ghoul reaches out to the desk, knocking the picture off it with a flick of his finger. The glass shatters as the frame hits the floor with a muted thud.

How… interesting.

“We are alone in the Ministry, Sister.”

Papa Emeritus IV speaks over the creaking of the fire. The night is dark and cold, such a heavy contrast with the gleaming, dancing flames. Imperator feels chills running down and up her spine, striking every single nerve. She merely nods, because her voice is lost somewhere deep in her guts.

Luckily, Papa doesn’t press for a verbal answer. “There are no more siblings, no priest or priestesses,” he continues, without missing a beat. “Not even teachers.”

The gravel creaks with each step Papa takes. The little rocks turn into nothing but dust under his shoes, leaving behind the clear footprint of his boots. Imperator allows her gaze to dart at the ground, then up and up until her eyes find his. A dull cloud obscures them; something that makes up a feeling Imperator cannot quite pinpoint. It resembles turmoil of anger, fear and raw anguish; a whirlwind of complex and visceral emotions she can’t name no matter how hard she tries.

Oblivious from her inner questioning, Papa continues. His voice is articulate, loud over the silence, and it conveys a commanding tone within it. “When I ordered the ghouls to not leave a soul inside the Ministry, I thought my beloved would find peace,” he says, before adding: “I was wrong.”

This time, a clear and undeniable strand of doubt takes over his speech. His voice trembles, breaking at the end of the sentence. Imperator looks into his pupils again, stares at the void they have become and falls deep inside the violent dread that devours him from the inside.

That’s the thing with pain and sadness. Like a famished beast, it feasts and feeds off people's insides. It consumes whatever makes them human, until there’s nothing but a hollow, shallow hole where a soul should be. Imperator knows Cardi used to be a man of raw feelings, of awkwardness and enthusiasm. Now, a part of her can’t recognize the person standing right there, at the patio they both used to play in years and years ago.

The man in front of her is not her baby boy, her sole son. He’s Papa Emeritus the IV, a monster of her own creation, the bringer of Armageddon. He’s the chosen one, the one whose birth and rise has been foretold by an ancient prophecy.

Is she proud or scared? Imperator can’t tell. It might be human nature, selfishness, but a part of her wishes she could hold onto the memories of her sweet little C just a bit longer before bathing in the reality and power of Papa Emeritus IV.

Is it wrong to wish to see her son once again, before welcoming her old friend Death? Can she ask for something like it, after everything she has done?

Satan is a kind, merciful deity, because he listens to her prayers and delivers. When Copia speaks up again, his tone is even more subdued, voice in a higher note. He’s almost shaking, scared like a child about to confess something shameful. He’s no longer Papa, not even Cardinal.

He’s just her little C.

“I have a suspicion, Sister,” he begins. His words remain a constant trembling, a languish sound he fights to let out through clenched teeth. “Something I don’t want to believe in.”

The air enters Imperator’s lungs, but there’s no oxygen in it. There is only smoke and the stench of burning flesh, coating the inner tissue of her organs and staining everything black. The soot covers her throat and obscures her vision, almost as dense as the sadness that coats Copia’s presence.

“You were always very clever but full of doubts. You need to be more assertive, C.”

“I’m trying to,” Copia adds, too quickly. His hand reaches out to caress his temple, moving to rub at his forehead as his brows furrow and his eyes close. “Tell me I’m wrong, Sister. Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll be tempted to believe it.”

For a long time, Imperator considers it. How wrong would it be to let him live in ignorant bliss? A human is weak, fragile and blind in the eyes of an almighty being like her Lord. He would understand her hesitation, acknowledge the unyielding love of a mother towards a son.

And yet, what a selfish thing to do. What is life without illumination, knowledge and truth?

Only slavery.

Imperator’s hands press over her abdomen, clasped together so tight her knuckles turn pale. The fire of the pyre does nothing to warm her up, does not provide any comfort. Still, she summons strength to reply. “I think you should follow your own instincts. Have a little confidence.”

Copia’s shoulders rise as he gathers a labored breath. His eyelids are half lidded, trembling on his face almost as much as his lips when he tries to suppress the sobs that threaten to rack his body. He swallows once, then twice, head turning to the side in an effort to hide his anguish.

“Why then? I don’t understand. I trusted you… I loved you. I liked you.”

Seeing him eye to eye, Imperator lowers her hands and reaches out for him. Her palms are open, and her fingers extend in his direction without landing into anything. There’s not a substantial space separating them, but the distance between their hearts it’s immeasurable. “I have done lots of questionable things in the past, Cardi, but I have never betrayed you. I was only protecting you.”

“From my own partner?”

“You know from whom. To these people, a dead Papa is a statement they can control, while an alive one is a liability. Look at what happened to your predecessors, how they ended up as backstage props.”

The haunting of past memories forces Copia’s muscles to tense as he flinches. His gaze is gaunt, blooming to the brim with a deeply pained look. That inward stare remains buried deep in Imperator’s body, before he lets his lids fall. “I think you wanted to hurt me, Sister. I think you couldn’t stand to see me happy for once in my life.”

The weight of those words anchors Imperator’s feet to the ground, but she manages to take half a step forward. There’s a small, faint voice inside her head, something wicked and twisted that reminds her she’s only a selfish, wounded human; someone troubled and desperate for love. Did she feel threatened by your impact in Cardi’s life? Did she want to hurt you, to force you away?

She did. But she wanted to wound you, not Copia.

A sharp pain emerges from Imperator’s palms when her nails dig too deep in the flesh, leaving behind crescent marks. To the sound of her voice, Copia’s face lifts from the ground as he looks at her expectantly, almost pleading her to deny his previous statement. She indulges. “That’s not true. I’ve done nothing but care for you.”

“But you hurt me so much. Why couldn’t you just let me be happy for once?”

“And let you walk right into your death?”

“Si, if you had to.”

The cold clings to Copia’s skin like a mantle. His face feels frozen under Imperator’s fingertips when she gets close enough to hold his cheeks, in an effort to stop the tremors that rack his shoulders. The movements are violent, unforgiving as Copia struggles to stop them.

Even when Imperator’s hands become wet with tears, she doesn’t let go. He flinches away from her touch at the beginning, but then his vulnerability and wish to be held takes over any tittle of repulsion he had. At a slow pace, Copia lets the warmth from her palms offer him comfort as he leans into it with shut eyes.

The night becomes deadly silent, as if the time had paused to grant them a bit of respite and allow them to enjoy the moment before the whole world falls over them with bone-crushing weight. It hurts, but Imperator breaks the spell, sighing profoundly while searching for the strength to speak. Her voice is gentle but firm, heavy with truth but yet light enough with relief.

“Don’t you think a mother would save her own child from digging his grave?”

Copia’s mouth opens and closes, fighting to form words immediately after hearing her confession. “Her… child?,” he stutters, jerking his head to get free from her hold. She doesn’t let him.

“You knew it, right? You have to. You’re a smart boy.”

This time, Copia manages to get away, muttering something unintelligible under his breath. His pupils are frantic, darting from one place to the other while he paces back and forth. The pain of his scalp is grounding, almost a relief when he curls his fingers on strands of hair, pulling hard. Imperator reaches out to stop him, but she chooses to remain a few centimeters away.

She doesn’t dare to touch him. Doesn’t feel worth it.

When the wood creaks loudly, startling their already frantic heart, Copia suddenly stops. His voice trembles so hard it’s difficult to properly understand what he’s uttering. “Si, it’s possible you’re right,” he begins, pausing to snatch another breath. “Maybe I just didn’t want to wonder why my own mother was forcing me to live in a place that seemed to hate me right to the guts.”

All those years, that fear and pain are back, haunting as always. Copia feels small, young and lost, so useless and powerless. His rage isn’t over yet, and he can’t simply let it go. No, it burns and claws, it screams inside him with enough volume to cause his stomach to vibrate and bones shake. He’s shivering, either from the cold or from the sheer impact of his emotions.

He can’t let go. He can’t.

Copia takes a step closer, allowing his eyes to lock into Imperator’s. “I was only a child who didn’t understand why you would disappear for months, then come back like nothing had happened. I used to think if I studied hard, if I succeeded in my tasks, if I became Papa… then you would think I was worth your time and attention. Maybe If I made you proud, you would love me.”

Letting out a bitter chuckle barely helps remove a bit of the oppression his shoulders carry. Copia feels himself away from his body, as if his soul was floating outside of it and something else had claimed that place.

“I was a fool, an idiot,” He says, swaying his head. Strands of hair fall on his face. “You only like people when you can control them, right? You stopped loving the old man when he began to think too highly of himself, just like you stopped liking me when I started to choose other people over you.”

He’s wrong. Imperator’s teeth are clenched, jaw locked tight in a way that prevents her from responding. He’s wrong, so mistaken she can’t even begin to correct him. She's merely a human, a fragile one at the core, someone who had to fight and gain her right to live her own way. She has loved very few people, and even fewer have truly loved her back. Satan, her little Cardi… and no one else.

Not even Nihil. Not even her own mother.

How can she explain to her son how scared she felt, how desperate at the idea of losing him? It’s impossible to find the right words, to make him understand that the weight of a mother’s love is not oppressive, but engulfing. She never meant to hurt him or shape him into anything he didn’t want to become. Imperator only wanted to make him strong, to keep him safe and warm, to help him have everything she never had.

It doesn’t matter anymore.

There are no tears in her. She ran out of them a long time ago, but the ghost of them haunts the corners of her eyes, forcing her to blink repeatedly until her vision clears. “No. I love you Cardi, always did.” She says, and it might be the first time she has ever uttered those words since she cradled him in her arms more than fifty years ago.”Everything I have sacrificed in my life was for you. You’re the Lord’s greatest gift towards me. How could I not love my own son?”

The air smells like rain when Copia gathers a shallow breath through his mouth. Even if it's gloomy, there are no clouds obscuring the night sky. There’s only the ghastly glow of the moon and stars, but Copia knows tomorrow there will be a storm. He can perceive it in his bones, in the distinct familiar scent of the wind.

Tomorrow it’s going to rain, but the knowledge doesn’t bring any relief. The water can’t wash away all the blood that has been shed within these crumbling stone walls, it can’t extinguish the funeral pyre that will burn and consume for eternity. Copia clenches his fist to prevent his fingers from shaking, but it’s useless. Imperator has revealed something he, not too long ago, would have died to hear.

Now he believes himself stupid, so blind to the truth. She’s right. He suspected it, of course he did, but he wasn’t courageous enough to accept it. It was easier to pretend they weren’t related. It brought him more comfort to pretend Sister had met him in the Ministry’s care home when he was a child, that she had taken pity on poor little him and decided to take him under her wing as much as she could.

Like a mother would save a son, Copia believes a son would also save his own mother from imminent death. And that’s something he can’t allow himself to delve on, because he comprehends what he has to do. He came prepared, ready to stop fooling himself with memories and sentimentalism. He wanted to stand proud, strong, firm, to prove to you he has changed so much, to show he’s no longer just a pathetic Cardinal, a good for nothing.

Now, oh Satan, he’s acting like a child again, allowing everybody to step over him and hurt him without a fight. How can he stand up and protect his loved one, if he can’t even defend himself? How much longer is he going to let everybody take a hit at him, without retaliating?

A rare feeling of relief wash over Copia’s body when he exhales the cold air. It will rain tomorrow, but he can’t wait for the water to purify and amend his mistakes. Born from Hell’s will and raised under The Evil One’s philosophy and teachings, his whole soul craves the comfort of the cleansing dark fire.

The beating of his heart is slow, heavy inside his ribcage, striking almost like bells announcing the beginning of midnight mass. There's a certain melancholy in it and when his blood flows again, Copia is sure his heart is mourning his own demise.

A distant chime shatters the silence, thumping slowly to mark the passing of time. Copia knows the moment has come to accept the truth, to die and be reborn as something better, more powerful.

“I’m not your son only, am I? I’m Papa now” Papa Emeritus takes a step ahead, fixing the neck of his coat. “So, what would Papa do in a situation like this? Advise me, Sister.”

A warm light reflects on Imperator’s face when she sways her head, making a few strands of thin hair fall on her forehead. How much she has aged, how different things are and still, how hard the memories remain written in stone and engraved in wood from the trees surrounding the building.

The faint smile that tightens her lips when she speaks is soft; it almost reminds him of better times. “I don’t know. To me you’ll always be my little Cardi.”

Nodding once, Papa allows himself to replicate the gesture. His smile is small, full of remembrance, but it tastes bittersweet in his lips. Advancing the distance that separates them, he’s the one to cradle Imperator’s face between his palms. Time has made him grow taller, only a bit bigger than her, and there’s no need anymore to look up to meet her eyes.

Gradually, he leans forward to place a chaste kiss on her cheek. Imperator’s skin is pale and cold. The papal paint leaves behind a dark, messy stain; a black promise of impending demise. “This is a goodbye, Sister. I’m sure sooner or later we all go into the night. Go softly, ti prego.”

Oh. How much her little Cardi is aching, how deep and visceral his pain is. It’s okay, Imperator understands. Raw emotions are a good offering to the Dark Lord. It’s a sacrifice, a big one that must be done for His kingdom to come. And when it happens her Cardi will be a prince.

No one will hurt him again.

This is a mother’s last sacrifice and, with open arms, she’ll welcome her doom.

Facing the two Ghouls standing at the back of the patio, Papa Emeritus waves a hand in a silent order. The Ghoul on the right smiles big and bright, but doesn’t budge an inch. “You have to say it, your Infernal Holiness. Give us a command.”

“Burn everything to the ground.” Papa Emeritus walks slowly, with heavy footsteps. The burden he’s been bearing for years has not subsided and the tears cloud his vision. The black paint around his eyes is smudged, running down his cheeks when he’s close enough to hold onto one of the Ghoul’s forearms. The infernal creature growls at him, baring his teeth as a warning, but doesn’t dare to attack. “Don’t leave anything behind. It’s an order!”

“Yes, sir.”

Papa Emeritus IV doesn’t spare a last look at the place he used to call home before exiting the gates. He walks into the dark.

The flames light up the Ministry, brighter than the morning sun. Standing in the middle of the Ministry, the Nameless Ghouls witness the fall of an Empire. There’s peace born from fulfilling Papa’s hunger for vengeance and yet, they are all covered in blood.

NEXT PART

Ps: Woah, this took so long. This chapter didn't want to be written and it fought so hard against me. I won, but at what cost. Anyway, we're near the end. Like Imperator, I too welcome my doom with open arms.

I'll probably edit this a bit when I have the time, but for now please take it as it is. If I don't post it today, I'll probably won't ever post it.

[relicrots]

A plotted starter for @trohpybimbo

It's  the  coldest  day  of  the  year,  snow  covering  Ministry  grounds,  and  by  the  sight  of  the  clouds  looming  overhead,  it  shows  very  little  sign  of  remorse.  It's.  .  .serene,  and  while  the  Cardinal  favors  hotter  weather,  it  seems  fitting  for  a  day  of  melancholy  and  regret.  It  hadn't  been  more  than  a  month  since  the  Emeritus  brothers  had  been  brutality  exonerated.  While  proud  of  the  opportunity  given  to  him,  none  of  it  feels  quite  right.  .  .It  wasn't  how  he  wanted  things  to  go.  Time  had  taken  its  course  and  he  too  was  only  a  victim  of  circumstance,  though  such  realizations  did  very  little  to  ease  his  overactive  mind.

Slow  footfalls  are  made  through  a  shoveled  path,  and  when  the  caretaker  ghouls  provide  bows  of  respect  they  are  ignored.  The  Cardinal's  eyes  remained  focused  on  the  graveyard  in  the  distance,  a  frown  tucked  on  his  normally  disgruntled  features.  As  he  grows  closers,  his  eyes  drift  to  catch  a  glimmer  of  the  vapor  that  had  escaped  from  his  nostrils  and  he  stops,  only  to  glance  back  at  the  large  Cathedral  hall  that  he  had  left  out  of  and  what  he  finds  is  the  ghouls  looking  back  until  realization  finds  them  and  they  return  to  their  duty.  It  wasn't  hard  for  Copia  to  understand  how  people  felt  about  him,  he  had  heard  it  his  entire  life⸺how.  .  .such  a  position  wasn't  MEANT  for  him,  that  he  should  have  been  grateful  for  what  he  had.  .  .Perhaps  if  he  listened  and  stayed  complacent  with  how  things  were,  the  Emeritus  sons  would  be  alive.

Once  he  enters  the  graveyard  he  approaches  three  large  cemetery  monuments  that  depicted  the  brothers  and  as  one  may  imagine,  a  variety  of  candles,  flowers,  and  items  of  splendor  were  left  in  remembrance.  It  stirs  a  heavy  sigh  from  the  Cardinal  as  he  approaches  with  three  fresh  black  roses  (  symbolizing  both  a  major  shift  and  a  new  beginning  for  the  Ministry  ),  which  are  quick  to  replace  the  white  ones  that  had  withered  due  to  the  elements.  Gloved  hands  meet  at  his  center  and  he  begins  a  prayer⸺❝  Give  eternal  rest  unto  these  brothers,  oh  serpent.  .  .let  your  perpetual  shadow  embrace  them.  May  their  weary  hearts  rest  in  peace⸺may  theirs  and  the  other  souls  we  have  lost  this  year  rest.  .  .Nema.  Mi  dispiace  tantissimo.  .  .  ❞