#copia prompt

[bupia]

Hello ✨ could you please do 28, 29 and 36 with Copia? <3

Inexperienced Smut Prompts: Copia, Papa Emeritus IV

"Do that again." "I never knew you could make such sweet sounds." - "Me neither..." "I got you."

There’s a smut bellow the cut, +18 only, please. [fem!reader] (voyeurism and oral sex) — I guess I wrote a lot for this one.

You inhaled deeply before your hand grasped the doorknob to his office. This wasn't your first time entering his office; in fact, you had been here many times before. However, a sense of nervousness gripped you this time, unlike any previous visits. It was different now that it was he who had summoned you with an air of urgency.

Gathering courage to face Papa, you sighed and reached for the doorknob, opening the door of his office.

"Papa...?" you called for him as you opened the door.

"Sorella! Vieni, vieni!" Copia exclaimed, gesturing with his hand inviting you to come inside. "Come inside, per favore."

"Thank you, Papa," you said, entering his office, closing the door behind you.

"I'm glad you found a time for me. I know you've been very busy those last few days."

"Oh! Yes, since you left your Cardinal role, things have been changing and you know how we need to rearrange everything inside of the ministry for you."

"Sì, sí," he nodded. "But that's not the reason I called you here today, sorella," he cleared his throat before continuing. "You should know that you are one of the most remarkable members of our ministry, I appreciate your devotion and your posture inside of our unholy house, but, a little bird told me your little secret."

At this moment, you come to a halt where you stand. What was Papa referring to? Maybe...

"At our ministry," he went on, "We wholeheartedly embrace the seven deadly sins, as you are aware. However, a little bird whispered to me that you, sorella, are unacquainted with one of them."

Copia strode towards you, coming to stop right in front of you. His hands extended towards your neck, his fingertips gently caressing the skin as he traced upwards, ultimately reaching for the knot of your habit's veil situated at the back of your head. With a deft motion, he untied it, allowing the veil to cascade down and settle onto the floor.

"P-Papa..." you uttered, your breath catching in your throat. "I... I can... explain."

"There's no need for you to offer any explanations, sorella," his hand extended toward your scalp, his fingers weaving through the strands of your hair as he administered a soothing massage to your head. "I've not come to pass judgment upon you, not in the slightest. In fact, I called you here today to assist you."

Your gaze met his, a blush warming your cheeks, as his gloved hands continued their gentle ministrations on your head. The sensation of his fingertips kneading your scalp made your lips part involuntarily, a soft sound escaping your throat, almost a whimper, as you surrendered to the sensation, closing your eyes to fully savor the moment.

"Does it feel good, sorella?" Copia murmured.

"Y- Yes..." you whispered, swiftly opening your eyes and instinctively moving a step away from him. "I apologize, Papa. I'm truly sorry."

"There's no need," he reassured, his smile carrying warmth. "Now," he continued, stepping back towards his desk. "Share with your Papa what transpired, why you find yourself unfamiliar with the sin of lust."

Copia shifted his position, leaning against the desk for support, while you advanced a few steps, positioning yourself before him—close enough to engage yet maintaining a respectful distance.

"You see, Papa, I... I..." you began, your voice laden with a hint of uncertainty as you attempted to summon your courage to speak. "I've already touched myself, sometimes, but... I just never did it with someone else."

"Oh, sì," he nodded in understanding. "So the issue here is that you never actually engaged in it, sì?"

"Yes, that's the reason I haven't... partaken in the sin of lust," you affirmed.

"And is it your desire not to, sorella?"

"I do want to," you nodded. "However, I don't wish to engage in such an act with just any fellow member of the ministry, Papa."

"What do you mean by that, sorella?"

"I'm not entirely sure how to explain, Papa," you responded, your gaze drifting away from him to focus on your feet. "It's not that I lack the desire, but rather that I believe I shouldn't."

"Shouldn't? How so?"

"Well... I mean, technically I could, but I don't think I should with someone I don't genuinely desire."

He concurred, his expression understanding. "You are absolutely correct, cara," he acknowledged, his hand lifting to touch your chin, gently tilting your head to meet his gaze. "But if you have a particular someone in mind, remember that you can always confide in me, cara."

You nodded, watching as he stepped away from the desk and made his way to his chair. You observed him as he seated himself, then took a deep breath, your fingers gripping your habit.

"You," you admitted.

"Hm? What?"

"I... I w- want it to be you, P- Papa," you stammered, nervously.

His eyes widened slightly, then narrowed slightly. "Eh?" he asked, his tone conveying surprise. "Why would you wish to have me, cara?"

"I... I... I just thought..." you stammered. "That you might be able to help me... I mean, I know you're our Papa, but..."

"It is true, I am Papa," he confirmed, nodding. "But that does not mean I can't share my bed with a sorella."

"I know that, Papa," you sighed. "I was hoping that perhaps you would be willing to share your bed with me, though."

"Carissima," he smiled, inclining his head. "You are very beautiful, cara, and you are also one of the most devoted siblings of our ministry, so I would be honored to share my bed with you, sorella."

Your heart leapt within your chest, causing your breathing to become erratic.

"I suppose we should discuss the details of this arrangement, cara," he said.

"What details?"

"The specifics of our arrangement, for one thing, cara," he explained, his smile growing broader. "And of course, I will need to know more about you, cara. Do you have any experience in matters of the flesh?"

You blushed furiously, averting your eyes. "I..." you began, your voice faltering. "I haven't had much experience in such matters as I said before, Papa," you confessed.

He chuckled softly. "Ah, cara, you are adorable. I am certain that you will be an excellent lover, sorella."

You watched as he stood up and walked over to you, his hands reaching out to cup your face.

"But enough talk, cara. It is time for us to consummate our agreement."

You blushed again, then looked up into his eyes, your lips parting slightly.

"Papa..." you whispered. "Are you sure?"

"Sì." His hand slid around your waist, pulling you against him. "Let's go to my chambers, cara?"

"Yes, Papa," you replied, your voice trembling.

He walked towards the door of his office, opening the door for you. You walked in his direction, leaving the office. He followed you and you both walked through the corridors, your heart pounding within your chest. You were afraid that you were going to faint, but managed to keep your composure.

As you two arrived on his chambers, Copia opened the door for you and you entered with him following you right after, closing the door behind him.

He turned to you, smiling, his arms reaching out to pull you close. You placed your hands on his shoulders and kissed him passionately, your tongue sliding between his lips. His arms wrapped around your body, holding you close as you continued to kiss him.

He pulled away from you, his hands sliding down your back until they reached your bottom, pulling you closer against him. His fingers slipped between your legs, caressing your mound through the fabric of your habit. You moaned softly, your hips moving against his hand.

"You want me, don't you, cara? "he asked huskily.

"Yes, Papa," you gasped, your voice breathless.

"I want you so badly, sorella."

He lowered his head, kissing your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. You felt yourself becoming wetter as he continued to touch you, his fingers sliding inside your panties. He moved them slowly, rubbing against your clit, making you gasp.

"You are so wet, cara," he whispered, his breath hot on your neck. "I can feel how wet you are. You are already soaking wet for me, aren't you, cara?"

"Yes, P-Papa," you breathed, your voice husky. "I'm so wet for you. I want you so bad, Papa."

He groaned, his fingers continuing to rub against your clit, making you even wetter. "Oh, cara, I want you so badly," he moaned, his voice low and rough. "I want to taste you, cara. I want to taste all of you."

You whimpered, your hips pushing against his hand. "Please, Papa, please," you begged.

"Anything you want, cara. Anything you want," you could hear the lust in his voice. "Anything, cara. Just tell me what you want."

"I want you, Papa," you breathed, your voice hoarse. "I want you so much, please."

You heard him groan. "Sì, cara, you'll have your Papa. But first..."

He pulled away from you, your hands falling to your sides as you stared at him, your breathing ragged.

"First..?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"First, I want you to remove your clothes," he looked at your eyes. "I want to see you, I want to see all of you."

You started to unbutton your habit, sliding it down your body, staying before him in only your underwear.

"Take it off.," he ordered, his voice deep and demanding.

You did as he said, unhooking your bra, letting it fall to the floor, your eyes never leaving his face.

"Now, cara, lie down on the bed."

You walked towards his bed, lying down on the bed. He stood over you, staring at you.

"You told me you never did it before, but that you did it to yourself, so show me, sorella, show me how you touch yourself."

You smiled up at him, your fingers sliding into your panties, your folds moistening with excitement. You breathed his name in a whisper and he knelt beside the bed, leaning forward to look at you. His hands reached for the waistbands of your panties, slowly sliding it down your ankles.

"Oh, sorella, look at it," Copia said, leaning down, running his tongue along your slit. "Come here, I got you."

You gasped, your hips jerking upward. He licked you again, this time along your inner thigh, his tongue slipping between your flesh. You moaned softly, your hips moving against his mouth.

"You taste so good, cara. So sweet," he grinned.

His tongue slipped between your lips, licking up and down, dipping into your entrance. He moaned, his tongue sliding deeper inside you, tasting your juice. He removed his tongue from your entrance, sitting back on his heels, smiling up at you. He flicked his tongue against your clit, sucking it into his mouth, rolling it around his tongue.

"Ah! Pap-Ah! Fu-Oh! Please, this is so good!"you moaned, arching your back, rolling your head on the bed.

"Sì, cara, I know. I know that you like that. I know that you like my tongue on your pussy," he murmured, getting up from his knees. "But now, show me, cara. Show me how you touch yourself, for your Papa."

You reached down, your fingers slowly stroking your wetness. Your finger sliding easily between your folds, your wetness flowing freely. You closed your eyes, and your finger slid inside your entrance, but you quickly removed it. You heard a hum of disapprove from Copia, causing you to open your eyes, looking at him.

"No, cara," he shook his head. "Do it again, touch yourself properly for your Papa."

You slid two fingers into your entrance, curling them upward to rub your clit. He watched you, his fingers rubbing his growing bulge on his pants. You removed your fingers, going with them to your clit, circling it, spreading your legs wider.

"Papa... Papa, this is so goo-Oh!" you whimpered, rolling your eyes to the back of your head.

You moved your fingers back to your entrance, thrusting them faster inside you, your hips grinding against your hand. His fingers were still moving on his hardness, as he tilted his head to the side, watching you attentively. You were panting now, your fingers moving deeper, your hips moving faster as you curled your fingers, hitting your spot, crying out as your orgasm his, your body writhing beneath his gaze. You came hard, your walls clenching around your fingers.

"Oh, Satan, Papa! Oh Satan," you moaned softly, closing your eyes.

Copia grinned mischievously. "Did you enjoy that, cara?" he asked, pulling his clothes off.

"Yes, Papa, I did," you said, breathless.

"Molto Bene, because I have more for you. And this time, I'm going to give you want you want," he bent down and kissed you softly.

[molly-ghuleh]

Could I get the prompt "confession leading to a kiss, and "I think this is the part where your supposed to kiss me" with Cardinal Copia please? You write so well ♡

Kiss Prompts: Confession leading to a kiss + "I think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me."

Cardinal Copia x reader

SFW! Contains: descriptions of anxiety, love confessions, Copia being awkward and cute, kisses, friends to lovers

Ahhh thank you!! I'm glad you enjoy my writing hehe, thank you for requesting!! <3

Kiss Prompts

Copia paces and paces, back and forth and sometimes in circles and most likely carving a trench into the floor of his office. You watch as he mutters to himself in mixed English and Italian, his hands moving through the air as he rehearses the sermon he's set to give in thirty minutes.

Papa Terzo had called last-minute and begged Copia to hold tonight's Black Mass in his stead. "Please, fratellino, I feel like I am going to expel my insides from both ends," he'd said--at least that's what Copia told you he said when he'd called you in a nervous panic, but the man tends to exaggerate a bit.

The Cardinal is relatively new to his position, having just been promoted when Terzo ascended to the papacy and left the role empty. He's still not used to holding sermons in front of the entire unholy congregation. Frankly, he gets nervous before he has to stand up in front of any number of people. It doesn't matter if that number is two or two hundred. Hence the panicking and the phone call and the please, tesoro, I need you to calm me down.

You don't mind being a steadying force for him when he needs it. He's been there for you more times than you can count. It only helps that you've been harboring feelings for him since you met.

You sigh and stand from where you've been leaning against his desk and watching him pace across the room. "Copia," you say gently. "It's going to be fine. You teach seminars all the time! This is just like that." "No no no, cara. This is not just like a seminar... this is Black Mass. A Black Mass that people are expecting Terzo to lead. I am going to get up to the pulpit and stutter and freeze." Copia fiddles with his gloved fingers, making the leather creak with the frantic strength of his anxiety. "I can't go, I can't." You step in front of him and grab his hands, prying them apart so you can hold them in your own. "You can, Copia. You aren't going to stutter or freeze or piss your pants."

He huffs a laugh and you smile. "Everyone already loves your seminars, okay? People like listening because you're you, and you're passionate about what you teach."

Copia ducks his head. "People love Terzo."

"Yes, well. I don't love Terzo. I love you."

There's a beat of silence between the two of you. Copia's head lifts up to meet your gaze, and you try your damn hardest not to kick yourself or bolt from his office in shame. You'd been planning to confess, but... not like that.

The corners of Copia's mouth quirk up. "You do?" he asks softly. "Truly?"

"I do," you grin back at him. Your heart flips and pounds against your sternum. Say something, please, anything, you silently beg him. Let me down easy. Anything.

"Amore," Copia whispers. His own cheeks glow a bright red that rivals the shade of his cassock. "I love you, too."

Warmth blooms in your chest at his words. After years of toeing the line, of poking the sleeping bear that is your friendship with him, you know for certain that he feels the same. He feels the same and he is just as nervous about it as you are.

"I'm, eh... not good at this kind of thing," Copia says softly. His hands squeeze yours and you can tell that it's out of habit. That if you weren't holding his hands, he'd be wringing them frantically.

You lean in an inch, your heartbeat thundering in your ears. "I think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me," you whisper. His eyes drop to your lips as you speak, and his tongue pokes out of his mouth to wet his own. He takes a shaky breath.

"Yes... okay." Copia's voice is shaky but there's a shy smile on his face. He leans in the rest of the way but hesitates at the very last second, his mustache tickling your upper lip in just the way you imagined it would. Finally he musters the courage to close the gap, and his lips press to yours so, so sweetly.

It's a simple little thing, but you pour endless nights of pining into it as you kiss him back. You want to tell him that you've loved him since the day you met, that every date or fling you've had since he came into your life has failed because no one else can even compare. You want to ask him when he knew he loved you and then kiss him silly because you have him beat.

Copia gently pulls away but doesn't go far. His breath fans across your cheeks in hot, quick bursts and you know yours must be doing the same. "Amore," he breathes against you, his lips grazing yours as they move. With how close his face is he looks a little cross-eyed, but that only makes him more endearing.

You can't resist, and you lean up to steal another brief kiss. "Now," you say playfully. "This is the part where you go deliver the best Black Mass this Abbey has ever seen." Copia smiles. "And you will be there, yes?"

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

*°:⋆ₓₒ day 10. toys

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡ “festive little fantasies”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — ❤︎ your gift for copia surely got him excited….

pairing: papa copia x afab!reader

a/n: day 10!!!! i wrote this at a restaurant lmao

cw: nsfw content. vibrator. oral sex (f receiving). cunnilingus. edging.

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“… color me surprised, dolcezza. you sure know how to get a man going.” —❤︎

┅✦┅

“merry christmas, darling!”

“… what exactly are you beholding?”

your cheerful, beaming smile turned into a more deadpanned look as you heard a certain papa give you his usual sarcastic quip.

“it’s a present..?” you state in a rather sassy tone, holding the beautifully wrapped present out in your palms for him to see. “y’know, the shit you get on christmas?”

copia eyes the gift in your hands, and he just chuckles. “i know, amore. i’m just messing with you.”

your blank stare quickly morphed back into your excited, playful grin, and handed the box to copia, which he gladly took. it was a rather neatly wrapped gift. a medium sized box wrapped in glittery, red paper with cute snowflake patterns printed all over it. of course, you couldn’t forget the deep green laced bow on top of it, adding holiday charm to the present.

copia gave one of his usual half smiles and tapped the bow on top of the gift, the bow springing a little from the contact. “you surely outdid yourself on the wrapping with this one.”

“yeah, i did. i know i’m great, thank you very much.” you spoke while putting your hands on your hip and flicking your hair dramatically, taking pride in your excellent work.

copia rolled his eyes at you.

“you’re so dramatic sometimes.” he rebuked playfully, and you huffed while keeping your arms crossed.

“well i’m soooo sorry you can’t handle me and my glamorous personality.”

“you sure? i can definitely handle you well in bed—“

“just shut up and open the gift.”

copia laughed heartily, before sitting down in the edge of the bed and unwrapping the present carefully, the paper tears creating satisfying sounds. copia was slowly unraveling the box of its colorful wrapping, and he lifted the lid off of the box to expose… the prize.

his eyes widened a bit as he looked at the intriguing shape of the gift, the mere sight of it coloring his cheeks a hue of scarlet red. however, copia let out a soft, hearty chuckle, before smirking and pulling out the object you had nearly wrapped for him, cradling it with two hands to show it off to you.

“really?” he asked with an authoritative tone, but he was mostly joking. “you got me something that’ll help yourself.”

“heyyy it can help you too!” you exclaimed with a giggle. “help me, help you. mi casa es tu casa.”

“not sure if that’s the right analogy, darling. but whatever floats your boat.”

the gift you had gotten copia was rather… extravagant and sexual. a vibrator, to put it bluntly. however, it was one of the nicer and more high quality ones instead of the shitty porno vibrators you find at the back of a dusty attic. the color was rather beautiful too, a seductive deep shade of red with intricate, satanic-esque black designs that made it look like it was the toy of the devil himself. but the most striking thing about the vibrator, was copia’s name ingrained in beautiful calligraphy handwriting at the base of the toy.

copia looked at you, and you just gave him a mischievous, almost evil looking grin. what crafty little scamp you were.

“custom made just for you, babe.” you smirked, moving to sit next to copia and tapping your fingers on his shoulder in a ‘walking’ motion.

“… color me surprised, dolcezza. you sure know how to get a man going.”

“do you like it?”

“fuck. like is an understatement.”

copia’s gloved fingers gently grasped your chin and tilted your head upwards to make you look at him.

“you have no idea how badly i want to use this bad boy on you.” copia practically pants out, lust lacing his voice.

you groan and whisper in his ear. “then what are we waiting for?”

it didn’t take long before the two of you started to make out furiously. clothed came off in a heated frenzy as you both found yourselves tangled up in the bed, with nothing but your underwear on. copia just panted heavily as he separated his mouth from yours, a glimmering trail of saliva connecting to your guys’ mouths.

copia let out a grunt and buried his head between your legs. using his teeth, he caught the delicate fabric of your panties between them, before using his teeth to pull up your panties, flicking it off of your legs. he cursed at the sight of your dripping wet pussy.

“you look so appetizing.” copia breathed out. you were about to speak, but was quickly cut off with a loud moan when copia started to lap at your clit hungrily.

“oh fuuuck..” you cursed lowly, moaning and spreading your legs a little more as you felt copia eating you out like it’s his last meal, prepping you for the main event.

his tongue worked skillfully around the snensirive bundle of nerves, dripping his saliva all over your slickness and fucking you with his tongue real good. heavenly and airy moans escaped your lips, gripping onto copia’s hair like your life depended on it as you bucked your hips into his face, desperate to feel more of that pleasure.

copia grinned into your glittering cunt and delved his tongue deeper into your folds, moaning at the sweet taste of your nectar. “lucifer, you taste so good.”

after eating you out for a decent amount of time, copia drew his tongue away from your puffy cunt, before he reached his hand to the vibrator that was sitting on the quilt of your sheets. he shimmied himself behind you, that way your back was against his chest and his arm was wrapped around your middle. you moaned and teasingly ground your ass against his dick, making him let out a sharp gasp.

“you little tease.” copia jeered, and you just grinned.

“can’t help it.” you spoke.

copia just sighed and click the vibrator on, feeling it buzz in his hands for a bit. he then grinned before bringing it down between your legs, letting the head of it press against your already stimulated pussy. the pleasurable vibrations only made your legs jolt with pleasure, and you cried out in pure euphoria.

“a-ahh!”

“shhh… that’s it baby.. relax…”

he massaged the sex toy all over your aching red folds, watching you squirm in his grasp as you felt an intense amount of pleasure from the vibrator. copia got more bold and turned up the intensity of the vibrations slowly, before it was at max. you cried out loudly, feeling incredibly overwhelmed by pleasure, the vibrator making your puffy cunt flutter around the head of it, and making it super wet.

“you’re doing so good..” copia praised, his lips nibbling at your earlobe while he massaged the vibrator into your pussy. the feeling of pleasure was so intense.

you were close.

“f-fuck! copia! i need to cum!” you shrieked, voice high pitched and blissed out from how good you felt.

your orgasm was dangerously close, that edge of pleasure you needed to reach to feel fulfilled. you were getting closer.. and closer.. and closer…

… until the pleasure stopped.

looking behind you to see that copia turned off the vibrator, you whined in protest. copia didn’t say a word until he turned on the vibrator again and shoved the toy inside of you, making you shriek with pleasured-pain.

“i’m not going to let you cum until i say so. for now, just sit there like a good little fuck doll and let me play with your pussy.”

you just whimpered mindlessly, too focused on the vibrator fucking you to fully comprehend his words.

“alright then.. now.. take it, cara.”

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[leezlelatch]

Kiss Prompt - "I really, really want to kiss you right now" - Copia

Copia x GN!Reader - kiss prompt, insecurities, misunderstandings, Copia's surgery, smooching, worship of the white suit.

One and only prompt given to me and for my beloved @writingjourney.

“So we’re definitely keeping all the crotch shots, right?” You ask, flipping the photograph in your hand around so the antipope sitting across the room from you can see it. 

Copia cuts you a look before turning back to the document on his desk. You smirk to yourself, letting out a small huff of a laugh as you look back down to the stacks of photos on the small table you’re using as a workspace in his office. There are a lot of photographs that the immensely talented photographer for the Ghost Project takes for each Ritual, but they tend to…pile up. And you have been given the - frankly blessed - task of looking through photo after photo of Copia during the Prequelle era. From the Pale Tour Named Death to his ascendency as Papa Emeritus IV. 

Your primary task is to separate them into two organized piles. Ditch and keep. From the very vague instructions Sister Imperator gave you, it has something to do with the next tour and a mini museum. As tedious as your task is, you’ve really tried to separate each photo by suit. Black, red, and white, as well as two piles for the black and red cassock. It is so…fascinating to see Copia during a time when you didn’t know him. A time when becoming Papa was a dream he thought would never be realized. A time of facial hair and very attractive sideburns. 

“What happened to your suits, by the way?” You ask Copia, placing another picture in the keep pile which is significantly bigger than the ditch. Copia makes a small noise in the back of his throat, an indication that he’s thinking and that he needs to finish the paragraph he’s reading lest he lose his place. 

He places his finger down and looks in your direction, “In my closet. Toward the back. Getting acquainted with the dust bunnies.” 

“Even the white one?” You say, distraught as you bring your hands to your cheeks. 

Copia raises a brow at your theatrics, leaning forward on his elbow across the expanse of his desk as he regards you with an amused smile. “What has you so concerned, topolino?” His head tilts to the side in that natural curious way of his. 

“I just think that they…,” you pause as you choose your words carefully, eyes pointedly looking away from him. The blush painting your cheeks broadens his smile. “Have a little more wear to them.”

“Eh, well…they were good for, you know, my Cardinal days, but as Papa I have a much better wardrobe, don’t you think?” He pulls at his brocaded vest before adjusting the frilled sleeves at his wrists. 

“Oh, yeah! I’m just saying I really love the Prequelle era! You know it’s my favorite album, and your stage outfits were just so…I mean look at you…Copia?” You pause in your exuberance, one of the photographs in your hand, observing the frown crossing his lips that deepens with every word, made sharper by his face paint. 

His eyes fall to the picture in your hand, brow furrowing. His hand comes up to brush against his bare top lip, fingertips then finding the tip of his nose. His eyes seem to go hazy, pupils falling to pinpricks creating an expanse of green and white that looks through you and not quite at you. “Do you think I made a mistake?” He asks, his voice quiet, reaching you like a pot of scalding water against your skin. You place the photograph down on the desk, your own gaze wide as you look back at him. “Should I not have gotten this…,” he waves his hand around in front of his face. “Eh, facial?” 

“What?” You sound flabbergasted, confused. Concern etched across your features as you try and figure out what may have prompted him to ask such a question. 

“I can regrow the mustache! The sideburns may take a little work…,” Copia trails off as he touches his face again, deep in thought, his eyes dropping to the desktop. 

You close your eyes, cursing yourself for…you’re smarter than this. You know how Copia feels about the surgery. And here you are, gushing over Cardinal Copia when Papa Emeritus IV is in front of you, needing your support when he cannot get it elsewhere. He smiled, big and toothy, the day he returned from his ascension and you called him “Papa” for the first time. He looked grateful, however bruised and swollen, bandages across his nose when you expressed how glad you were that he wouldn’t have to suffer such severe nasal issues anymore. He once called you his strength. It wouldn’t do to fail him now.

“Copia. Just because you got a nose job and shaved doesn’t make you any less beautiful than you are in these photos. It’s still you. You still look like yourself. You’re still the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.” 

Your words seem to echo across his quiet office, and leave a silence in its wake. He’s looking at you again, lips parted, boring a hole into you with passionate and relieved eyes that make your cheeks flush. Copia stands from his desk and smooths his hands down his thighs, moving around the chair to carefully push it in before walking toward your small workspace. You stare up at him, unsure, and he flounders like a fish for a moment, mouth opening and closing.

“I really, really want to kiss you right now,” he finally says. 

You suck in a breath and look down, blinking before meeting his gaze once more. “Please.” 

Copia looks down at the little table piled with photos and promptly tips it over. The photographs go scattering, his former image fluttering to the floor like a cleansing rain, and then he’s on you. Pulling you up from the chair with steady, gloved hands, he draws you into his body, pressing flush against you as he claims your lips like he’s claiming a prize he has waited far too long for. Copia kisses you like a man who found an oasis in the desert, thoroughly licking into your mouth with abandon, capturing every noise you make with lips that nip and suck your bottom lip until it's swollen. He lets you take in a much needed breath only to continue across your jaw and down your neck, growling softly as he sucks a spot into your sensitive skin which he kitten licks before pulling away. 

You stare at each other, chests heaving. His paint is a mess, a slash of gray around his mouth, and you can only imagine what your mouth and neck looks like. Copia smiles, softly chuckling as his eyes rove over your kiss swollen lips. 

“Amore?” He questions softly, taking your hand in his. 

You smile. “I really, really want you to kiss me again.”

[cannibal-rat]

Clown (Day 4)

[youwouldntlietopapa]

prompt maybe?: copia after a heartbreak (he managed to work up the courage to ask his crush out after a long time pinging as one does, but they refused rather rudely) (optional fluff of him getting comforted by a third party maybe to soothe all our hearts later)

All right, I may have taken some liberties with this one because I had an idea. Anyway, I hope this is all right.

Includes: Heartbreak, heart to heart conversation, hurt/comfort, Papa Emeritus II/Secondo, Cardinal Copia

____________________________________________________________

Secondo moved through the dimly lit archives like a spectre. Something about breaking the quiet of the space always made him feel deeply uncomfortable. He much preferred the peaceful stillness and, more importantly, that he was commonly the only one there on the occasions he needed something.

Sniff, sniff.

His eye twitched at the sound and his mouth tightened. Apparently he wasn’t so lucky and someone else was hidden among the shelves. Sniffling. He set his jaw and tried to ignore it. But there it was again.

Sniff, sniff.

Punctuated by a tiny whimper. Secondo sighed heavily and closed his eyes. Why me, my dark lord? Why me? Someone was crying in the archives and his first thought was that the records he needed couldn’t possibly be important enough to be worth risking running into a crying sibling, much less have to be… comforting. That was Primo’s talent. Or Terzo, in a pinch. Not his.

And then he heard a familiar voice. Soft and shaky, from what he could gather, it sounded like part prayer and part self-chastisement. Fanculo la mia vita. Somehow this was much worse than bumping into a crying Sibling. He’d managed to bump into one of his crying siblings.

“Copia.” His deep voice echoed off the stone walls and ceiling, unmistakable. There was a rushed, slightly panicked noise from several rows down while, presumably, his youngest brother trying to clean himself up. Secondo walked toward the noise, forgetting the silence, and letting his shoes tap on the floor to let him have some idea where he was and that he was coming.

“Papa! Forgive me!” He hurried to apologise, jumping up from his hiding spot and desperately trying to look like less of a mess. “I didn’t hear you come in. D-do you need help finding things?”

He looked at him with an expression that all but screamed bullshit. “Your paints are running, fratello.”

Copia’s chin quivered and he sniffled again. His shoulders slumped and he buried his face in his hands, crying softly. The urge to run while he wasn’t looking was almost overwhelming, but Secondo stood firm. He really did need to make some very impressive sacrifices at the alter, it this was a sign of anything. Apparently he’d managed to fuck up royally without realising and this was a punishment.

His silence dragged on longer than was, strictly speaking, socially acceptable. Not that Copia seemed to notice. Lost in whatever the problem was. Finally, he gave in. “What has upset you, Copia?”

Even he winced at how it came out sounding. Where in all the pits of hell was Primo? Maybe he could just… push the Cardinal to his brother’s office? Or carry him. He didn’t look all that heavy. And he definitely didn’t look like much of a fighter. His thoughts, however, were interrupted before he could settle on which would be the simplest option.

“I’m s-sorry, Papa. It’s nothing. Really. Just… just being f-f-foolish…” The last word turned into another round of sobs. Secondo made a face that communicated less concern and sympathy and more I have just discovered a cockroach in the bathtub.

A bit robotically, he attempted a comforting pat on the shoulder. He succeeded in half of that. It was, certainly, a pat on the shoulder. Figlio di puttana. He cursed silently. Not for the first time, Secondo wondered if Copia wouldn’t be better off if he simply walked away.

“Come, Cardinale. We find somewhere to sit.” Grabbing him by the elbow, he lead Copia to one of the stone benches staggered along the perimeter walls. Sitting next to him felt awkward enough that he settled on staring straight ahead down the long row of texts, books, and scrolls.

Copia, for his part, crumpled in on himself as soon as he was seated. Too upset to be worried about was Secondo might think. After another round of tears and sniffles, his brother’s leather gloved hand appeared, holding out a handkerchief. “Grazie mille.” He said a little weakly. “You… you don’t need to stay, Papa. I’ll be all right.”

“Secondo.” He said flatly.

Copia looked up at him, confused. But he kept his eyes locked forward.

“… Secondo, Copia. Papa is for work, public, official business.” His tone wasn’t what anyone would confuse for soft but, for him it was remarkably calm. “You are my fratellino, no? Save your Papa for il vecchio bastardo.”

They had never been close, the two of them. His brother was so much older and his first appearance had come as something of a shock. One that took time for them to get over and that left a rather poor impression on his younger self. Copia was still staring, looking like he might cry again at any second. It was maybe the nicest thing Secondo had ever said to him.

“Th-thank you, fratello.”

“Tell me what happened.” It wasn’t a question. “And tell me who I summon to my office.”

“Oh, no, no, no! You don’t need to. Please. If you can… let it be.” He hurried to cut off that line of thinking. His heart was heavy enough without making it even more of an embarrassing mess than it already was. “No one to talk to, Pa-Secondo. I only… I am a fool.”

Secondo sighed again. “Copia… You are no fool.” It didn’t sound like a compliment out of pity, not from him. Just a statement of facts. “You think I give you too much paperwork.” He held up a hand to cut off any argument before it can begin. “You think I trust everyone, fratello? You, at least, I know you do things right. You finish before the deadline. You don’t leave me with a pile of shit to fix. If you were a fool, I would find another.”

Something about his blunt honesty was actually comforting. Although, it would take a lot more than that to shake the misery his day had become. “You don’t understand. The books? No problem. The paperwork? I can do that. But… this isn’t books and paperwork. This is…”

He couldn’t say it. He felt enough like a fool already.

That’s more than enough for Secondo to work out what must have happened. It would have been so easy to sneak out before Copia had even realised he was there. He worked his jaw in an uncomfortable silence before finally resting his hand on his brother shoulder.

“What I say to you, hm? Not a fool.”

“… she laughed.” His voice cracked and he stared, defeated, at his hands.

“You want me to kill her?”

“What!? No!” Copia snapped his head up, staring at Secondo with wide, terrified eyes. Met with his brother’s calm stare and the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Y-you’re kidding.”

“Si.”

Despite everything, Copia actually managed a smile and a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “I… I don’t think I’ve ever heard you joke before.”

Secondo huffed and frowned a little.

“I am very funny. You don’t listen.” He said without a hint of irony. Nudging him softly with his elbow. It wasn’t really so different from the old days, with Terzo, he considered. Always talking about his new great love, only to be sobbing over the end of things in an alarmingly short amount of time. Claiming he would never love again. At least until the end of the day when someone else caught his attention. “So… you like her, you tell her, and she… say no? Si?”

Copia nodded, his smile fading, replaced by defeat and sadness. “Si. Not just no. She tells me never. Laughs at me.” He dabbed at his eyes with the hankie, trying not to ruin his paint more than they already were. “She is right, Secondo. Why would she want me? No… no one does. I’m… I’m not like you. Like Terzo. Or Primo. I’m just… the other one. Just a shit copy of better things.”

The words felt like a knife to the heart and he was sure he knew where he’d picked up some of that bullshit. That had the old man’s stink all over it. Secondo lifted his mitre off and set it delicately next to him on the bench. His head tipped back until it bumped the cold wall and he stared up at the ceiling, taking a few deep breaths. “You are not like Primo. Or Terzo. Si. But… You are, maybe, like me more.”

“Like you?” He looked at his older half-brother like maybe it was another joke. But Secondo didn’t crack if it was. “No, no… You are… well… you. I’m just… me.”

He chuckled softly and dry. “Ah? Cosa sono io?”

At least he’d chuckled, Copia avoided an entire panic attack, but he still made a lot of wild hand gestures that certainly looked like they were trying to convey a deeper meaning. “I just mean… you are stronger, more confident. You don’t get so… so…” He huffed and raked his hand through his hair. “So worried about what people think. People… women… they always want you.”

Secondo closed his eyes and took another breath before looking at him again. “Ascoltare, fratello. I tell you something private. And if you say it to anyone else? I deny it. And then I come find you. Capito?”

“Capito.”

“All this? What you say to me? Is bullshit.” He turned his head back to stare at the ceiling. He couldn’t say it with Copia staring at him like that. “I know what they think of me. I hear what they say. Most I don’t like, but… È quello che è. And people?” Secondo snorted derisively. “They don’t like. Respect? Maybe. Fear? Yes. Like? No. Women like the story, to brag. They like money and parties. Siblings want Papa. Not Secondo.”

“Oh…” Copia realised he hadn’t ever considered any of that. His brother had always been so… in control and intimidating. It didn’t seem possible that he was secretly worrying over everything or just playing a role for people.

“You are no fool, Copia. You keep your heart open and you offer to people who you are. It is not easy to do here… in questa famiglia. If she is too stupid to see…” He snaps his fingers, searching for the word. “Tuo valore, the fool is her, si?”

It was, without a doubt, the longest the two of them had ever sat together and talked. Not to mention the kindest his older brother had ever been. Copia blinked at him stupidly, wondering where the hell the real Secondo had gone and who this person was. Or maybe, how had he gone so long without actually seeing the man for who he really was.

“Grazie, fratello.” He said, sounding a little awestruck.

Secondo replaced his mitre on his head and gave Copia’s shoulder a pat, standing up from the bench. He paused, obviously trying to make a decision. It took a moment, but eventually he nodded once sharply. “That Sorella… the one…” He frowned deeply. Describing people well wasn’t his strong suit. “With red hair and the… the… lentiggini? She stares when you don’t look. I see her in the hall. With that look like the puppy. Always watching. Smiling. Nina, her name is, I think. You ask her for a walk, at sunset. She says yes, eh?”

All right, maybe someone had replaced Secondo. But, then again, if he was right… Copia blushed deeply. He knew the Sister just from around the Abbey and she was very sweet… and pretty.

“… Why are you being so nice to me?” He blurted without really thinking.

Secondo only shrugged and gave his shoulder one last pat. “I tell you, you are my fratellino, no?”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked off, back through the maze of shelves. Leaving Copia staring at the place he had been. Maybe he wasn’t the best at being comforting, at least in the traditional way. But Copia was left marvelling at how much better he actually felt.

“Grazie mille, fratello…”

____________________________________________________________

Fanculo la mia vita – Fuck my lifeline

fratello – brother

fratellino – little brother

il vecchio bastardo. - the old bastard

Figlio di puttana – Son of a bitch

Grazie mille. - Thank you very much

Ah? Cosa sono io? - Oh? What am I?

Ascoltare – Listen

È quello che è – It is what it is

Tuo valore – Your worth

lentiggini - freckles

[revelforevermore]

The Ministry Playing Among Us

I had way too much fun with the Minecraft prompt, so this one was in order!

~~~

Prompt: During lockdown a few years ago when boredom began to set in, the Ministry discovered a new game to pass the time called Among Us.

Sister Imperator: She doesn’t partake…though there’s a “PimpMomma69” that will randomly appear in the group game at random intervals that’s sus.

Papa Nihil: He’s fucking useless in this game. Everyone knows when he’s the Impostor because he either: 1) asks in the chat why he can kill others or 2) he gets stuck clicking on the vent repeatedly so he’s doing a wack-a-mole type thing. 

Copia: He gets scared by the music of Among Us so he usually has the volume down. His favorite task is shooting meteors; least favorite is electrical, since that’s where he ALWAYS gets killed. Dew always convinces everyone else that he’s the Impostor and gets his ass booted early on. Copia gets upset when no one listens to him; he can’t lie, he’s always honest in the chat, and no one ever believes him. His little dude has the rat companion. 

Aether: Doesn’t play often, but when he does, he’s typically a crewmate. He oversees the discussion over finding out who is the Impostor (even on the off chance it’s him). He helps with the buddy system when there’s fewer left. He usually gets killed first though by the boys. He’s never been voted out of the round before. He’s the yellow crewmate and goes by “Banana”. Dew stole his phone and changed it to “BananaBitch”.

Dew/Sodo: Complete menace. He will burn every bridge and destroy every bloodline if it means he wins. Everyone automatically assumes he’s the Impostor because he will chase others around while they do tasks. He’s freaked Aether out doing this a lot. He gets a lot of false votes for this which pisses him off ENDLESSLY—and has led to him actually leaving the games every once in a while. As the Impostor, he vents really well. Goes for Aether first. Always leaves Cumulus as the survivor (he feels bad). Hates being a crewmate. Hates being a ghost more (though he likes to haunt Copia). He and Swiss have a separate chat outside of the game to cheat.

Sunshine: She’s in it to witness the smackdown fights in the chat. She likes letting the boys fight when she’s Impostor and targets them first; somehow always ends up winning the round or gets discovered very early, no in-between. She likes to fix the power in the game, but gets pissed when everyone else tries flipping the switches at the same time. She claims the orange crewmate. Refuses the other colors. She added a sprout to her head and sometimes goes by “Carrot”. 

Rain: He spends more time running around hyper fixated on the companion running with him than actually doing anything (his companion is the little dog). He doesn’t like to be Impostor since he feels it’s too much pressure and he enjoys doing the tasks. The type to accidentally vote himself out of the game, and usually he says “it was blue” while he’s cyan (Dew and Swiss can’t tell the difference, “blue is fucking blue” has been said more than once). When he gets killed, his ghost stays planted next to where his companion is sitting. When he suggests someone is sus, everyone jumps that person since Rain is usually right.

Cirrus: She’s silent but deadly. She’s excellent at pretending to do her tasks and often only kills a crew mate if there’s absolutely no chance of getting caught; she waits. She strikes quickly towards the end and gets a high kill count—often someone will find a body and suddenly four other players are OUT. Can often be heard giggling in real life while playing completely innocent.

Mountain: He’s a magnet for the harder tasks in the game, which is good since he can do them easily. He’s one of the first to get sniped since he’s good at catching Impostors and calling a meeting before he gets killed. He’s typically the scapegoat. As Impostor, he’s good at being sly—but usually gets found out before he gets more than three kills. His little crewmate is green with a sprout out of his head.

Cumulus: Nobody likes to kill her in the game since she’s more focused on completing tasks. She's in her own little world most of the time. Carefully crafts what she wants her crewmate to look like. Will actively mourn when the ghoulettes get killed. Her as Impostor is a different story; everyone dreads that. She’s always the least suspect since everyone’s so used to her doing tasks and being honest about it. It helps that she uses that innocence to be like “hey i didn’t know we could vent but i saw green doing it!”. She is the type to befriend a crewmate and quickly snipe them, then giggle and say “sorry but it’s the rules”. Her first target is always Dew. 

Swiss: Is the type to write “Red is sus” when he’s Red—or “guys I was in the vent it wasn’t me”. He’s the boy who cried wolf and is the type to get into serious arguments about who’s the Impostor. He thinks he’s Sherlock Holmes when he’s Officer Doofy. He’s a lot like Dew in the game, and they have a buddy system where they work together. Once when Swiss was the only Impostor, he killed Dew and they fought in real life about it for a few minutes. Once they calmed down, they started a new round. The same thing happened again and Among Us was barred from the Den for the evening.

[onedaughterofman]

12/22 (they go together lol) + Copia

Writing prompt: "The hand behind their nape, when they're embarrassed" and "gets shy or easily amused around you" with Cardinal Copia

Cardinal Copia is standing in front of you. Face almost as red as his cassock, biretta slowly falling down to casts shadows over his eyes, and a hand behind their nape, the Cardinal stands in the middle of the garden.

On his other hand, extended in your direction, there is a flower. He is holding it tightly, fist slightly trembling with the strength behind his grip.

“Sibling,” he chokes out. His unblinking eyes fall on your face for mere seconds, before they go back to his shoes. “For you.”

The murmur of other Siblings grows louder behind your back. It’s the middle of the day and you are all busy helping in Primo’s garden. The sun is high in the sky, the breeze is warm, and you’re sure you look like a sweaty mess.

Still, the Cardinal remains in place, hand extended towards you. There’s a violent blush on his face, and droplets of sweat fall down from his biretta, pearling his forehead. Oh, he’s nervous, so terribly shy.

And yet, he stands there, unmoving. There’s a glint in his dark pupils, a look of determination. He will not go away until you accept his flower. You do, fingers brushing over the leather of his gloves in the process.

“Thank you,” you say, clutching the flower close to your chest. “But I don’t understand why…”

“This type of flowers… They reminded me of you,” he hurries to explain, wildly gesticulating towards the big, old ceramic pots. “I think this one will look nice in your habits, Sibling.”

“That’s a sweet gesture, but…” You hesitate. “I don’t think Primo would appreciate his garden to be deflowered.”

“I’d like to deflower something else, then.” It only takes a second. The Cardinal’s mouth opens before his brain can react, and you see the guilt and shame gradually fill his stare. He struggles to regain his voice, stuttering. “Not that I believe you are a virgin!”

“Excuse me?”

Fuck. He’s getting even more flustered. The biretta lays lopsidedly on his head, and the hair is a mess underneath it. “Nothing wrong with that! Or with you being a virgin, if you are! I’m just… I’ll leave.”

Utterly confused, you watch him begin to walk away, only to quickly return on his own steps. “This is a bad moment to ask for a date, certo?”

“It’s a weird one, yes.”

“Ah, mi dispiace. I’ll ask tomorrow, si?”

This man is… a strange man. Awkward as hell, not completely aware of how to interact with people and still oddly charming. You’d be lying if you said he hadn't managed to make you smile and laugh, to create a warm sensation in your chest that has spread towards all your body.

“Tomorrow, then.”

This time, he also smiles and Satan, how can someone as weird as him be so cute.

Thank you. I'm not taking more requests, just finishing the ones I already have!

[bupia]

Maybe for the sleep prompts, night 10 with Copia?

Waking up in the morning: Copia, Papa Emeritus IV.

"You're about to fall asleep on your feet."

As you slowly opened your eyes, you found yourself in Copia's bed, wrapped in the soft warmth of his blankets. However, there was no signal of Copia. The bed felt empty and cold without him by your side. You sat up, looking around the dimly lit room, and there he was, sitting at his desk with a small candle providing the only source of light.

Rubbing your eyes, you couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. He was slumped over, almost sleeping, with his head resting on his hand as he stared intently at some paperwork. You quietly got out of bed, careful not to disturb him, and made your way to his side.

"You're about to fall asleep on your feet," you said softly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He looked up, his eyes slightly dazed from exhaustion. "Oh, cara," he yawned, "I didn't expect you to wake up. Did the candle's light woke you up?"

You chuckled, shaking with your head. "It didn't Copia. I woke up because I missed you on bed," you quickly sat on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. "It's not fair for you to be up working while I'm here sleeping in your bed."

"Eh, you want my company, then? sì?" He smiled tiredly, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. "I just had some things to take care of," he said. "But you should be sleeping, not worrying about me."

"Of course, I want your company, always," you said with a tender smile, his hands resting on your waist. "I can't sleep when you're not here," you admitted, resting your forehead against his. "The bed feels cold and empty without you."

He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours. "Then let's remedy that," he whispered, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You giggled softly. "You're a bad influence on my sleep schedule, you know?"

He chuckled, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. "I'll be a good influence and help you sleep, I promise."

You nodded in agreement, "I can't help but worry about you. You need to take care of yourself too, you know."

Copia let out a soft chuckle, "Don't worry about me, amore. I can handle it."

You leaned down, pressing a tender kiss on his forehead. "Just promise me you'll take breaks and not overwork yourself."

"I promise," he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

"So let's go to our bed, my Copia." You whispered.

He carefully got up with you on his arms, and carried you back to bed, wrapping you in his arms as you snuggled against him. The candle on the desk was left to burn out as you both drifted off to sleep.

[molly-ghuleh]

Hi pretty, i want "i think i deserve a kiss" for the prompts with Cardinal Copia, pretty please ? i love you, you're amazing!!!

Kiss Prompts: "I think I deserve a kiss"

Cardinal Copia x reader

SFW! Contains: assistant trope, overworked trope, sickeningly sweet fluff, pining, suggestive if you squint, the titties and beer mug

Thank you for requesting my lovely!!! <3

Kiss prompts

The Cardinal's office is bathed in soft light from his various mismatched lamps. The Sun had set hours ago, but there was an important deadline that had caught up with the two of you. You, as the Cardinal's Clergy assistant, dutifully sit at your little desk in the corner of his office as Copia hunches over his own in the center of the room.

"What time is it?" You ask softly. You're sure it must be past midnight by now. This damned budget report from Papa's most recent tour is due on Sister Imperator's desk by the morning, and that woman wakes up unfathomably early.

Copia pulls up his cassock sleeve to glance at his watch. "It is, eh, twenty-three past midnight," he says. His voice is gravelly with the lack of sleep.

The two of you had been awake since six that morning with the sole intention of compiling every expense report under the Ministry's roof. Receipts, invoices, and account statements litter Copia's desk. He dictates each total to you and you type away on your laptop, entering the data into a mile-long spreadsheet that makes your computer run hotter than the fires of Hell.

Judging by the way Copia runs his fingers through his hair, there's still a ways to go--you'd learned to read his body language during your tenure as his assistant. You sigh and stand from your chair. Your back pops in a concerning manner, but you're far past caring. "Time for another pot of coffee?" You offer. Even if he says no, you'll make one for yourself if only to stretch your legs.

"You are far too good to me," Copia utters softly, looking up at you. His hair falls over his forehead from how often he'd ruffled it in frustration. His biretta had long since been discarded. The top few buttons of his cassock are undone, making him look delightfully unkempt.

You want to run your fingers through his hair.

"Maybe I just like coffee," you tease back, lips quirking with the sarcasm. Being tired makes you sassy. It's something that the Cardinal has said he likes about you. It makes working late more fun, he'd said, and that phrase had fuelled your hopeless little crush for months.

He simply huffs a laugh through his nose and you exit his office, mugs in hand, your slippers (which you kept under your desk for nights like these) scuffing along the tile of the dark corridor. The kitchens are a short walk from the Clergy's office wing. You're surprised there isn't a groove carved into the floor tracing your path from Copia's office to the coffee pot with how much caffeine the two of you manage to consume.

Despite late nights like these, the work is rewarding. You're on good terms with most of the Upper Clergy (you never know where you stand with Sister on any given day), you have special privileges to the Clergy break room, and you get to spend your days with Cardinal Copia, pining after him like some lovesick teenager.

At least you have your hand.

You rinse out the used mugs while the new pot of coffee brews. You prepare yours how you like, and make his with the attention to detail of a coffee shop barista who subsists on tips alone. Copia likes it lukewarm and sickeningly sweet. He would prefer a latte of course, but you don't have the time nor the energy to make one, so he'll have to settle for half-coffee-half-creamer and an unholy amount of sugar. Still, you smile, because you know exactly what he'll say when you place the mug in front of him, and you know exactly which witty retort you'll think in your head.

You make your way back to his office, bumping the heavy wooden door open with your hip while you hold one mug in each hand. His favorite is a plain white ceramic mug with the words 'rat dad' in bold black letters--a gift you'd given him after a year of working as his assistant. Your mug is a hand-me-down from him, his second-favorite, which says 'titties and beer' and which you're pretty sure Terzo had given him as a joke.

"Here," you say softly as you place his mug in an open space on his desk.

Copia sighs in relief and looks up at you. "I don't deserve you, tesoro," he says. He immediately takes a sip of the coffee and hums.

And your witty retort: "Yes, well, I think I deserve a kiss," you think as you turn to move towards your own desk.

The sound of Copia sputtering and coughing behind you makes you jump. Your tongue tingles with the sensation of recent words. They practically echo in the relative silence of his office, and immediately you realize your mistake. Your heart plummets.

You get sassy when you're tired, but you also tend to say what you're thinking.

"You, eh, you-- what?" Copia stutters. You can barely bring yourself to look at him out of sheer embarrassment.

"N-nothing!" You respond, too quickly and too high-pitched. He'd heard you, and you know he heard you, and he knows that you know.

You sit in your desk chair and pretend nothing happened. The monitor of your laptop does nothing to hide your deep blush or the line between your brows.

Copia's office is silent for a few moments, until his chair squeaks in the familiar sound of him standing. You brace yourself to be reprimanded, to be told that it is wholly inappropriate to say such things in front of your boss, or to be fired completely. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Instead, you see the deep red of Copia's cassock at the edge of your little desk, and he clears his throat. You swallow dryly and meet his gaze, absolutely mortified. A bead of nervous sweat rolls down the back of your neck. Stupid, stupid--

"I- I think you may be right, tesoro," Copia says, his voice shaking slightly. His lips quirk up at the corners which makes his mustache twitch. "We have, eh... danced around it for too long, yes?"

Oh, sweet Lucifer take me now.

Copia braces his hands on your desk and leans forward, bringing his face inches away from your own. You can feel his warm breath ghost over your lips. "I think you are long overdue for a kiss, dolce. Many, in fact."

Before you can say anything, he places his lips so sweetly against yours. His mustache tickles your top lip and his nose bumps against yours, but it doesn't matter. You're kissing him, and it's real, and it feels good. Where your heart had sunk before, it practically leaps out of your chest, hammering against your sternum. You lean into the kiss.

Copia pulls away far too soon and you chase his lips, but your cursed desk gets in the way. Instead you stare at him dumbly. Are you drooling? You might be drooling.

"The budget report, tesoro," Copia gently reminds you. Right. The budget report. "But, I plan to kiss you again and again once it is done, si? You, eh... deserve it."

[fishwithtitz]

hannie. 31. satan's butthole, USA. leo. i teach people stuff for a living. wannabe writer. basically a female zach woods.

my masterlist

asks: open requests: closed tag list: comment on this post to be added ao3

I write for:

Papa Emeritus III

Papa Emeritus IV

Cardinal Copia

Mary Goore

Eddie Munson

🖤 fishwithtits/Hannie

dividers: @saradika-graphics banner: canva

[threefandomsinatrenchcoat]

Okay but what if sleep paralysis demons are actual demons and Copia deals with them regularly (not knowing they're real) but one day his ghouls just burst though the door and shoo the thing away with a broom because "WE'RE HIS ONLY DEMONS, FUCK OFF!"

[ghouljett]

Hey Jetti spaghetti, I see your cute prompt list and was wonder Could you do the shimmy swiss in dust skulls?

Swiss My Beloved

I love swiss so much he was such a treat to draw🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[cannibal-rat]

Carved (Day 6)

[milkywaybottles]

could you possibly do a small fic of papa iv spending time with his s/o on a rainy day? thank you!!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A/N: Hi! Thank you for the request, love! Sorry I died for a little bit guys!

For the sake of the fic, the other Papas aren't dead! (or at least, not yet..)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Drizzle - Copia (Papa IV) x gn!Reader Oneshot

Word count: 2k

It had been raining for what seemed like a millennia, each streak of rain falling painstakingly slow against the colourful stained glass of the ministry. The clouds were threateningly dark, thunder rumbling throughout the halls followed by the occasional snap of lightning. This type of weather never bothered you, and if anything, soothed your otherwise racing mind.

It hadn't been cold, nothing of the sort, in the previous days. The air had been hot, leaving your body a sticky mess. The ministry had been caught in an unrelenting heatwave, and while the sky had been black for days, it was only on the hazy morning that the clouds finally spilt rain.

You sighed with relief as the first droplets of rain broke across your skin, welcoming the feeling with a loving embrace. All moods had picked up within the clergy, no longer followed by the tired drawl that the steamy afternoon brought. Instead, many rejoiced in the arrival of the weather, numerous Siblings of Sun deciding to strip in the rain in the name of Lucifer.

You had smiled at the idea but found it best to seek comfort from the extending window sill of your bedroom. The sill gave a perfect view through the muddied stained glass into the rose gardens outside, littered with old concrete statues. As the wind howled its unearthly groans, the statues would shift as if coming to life. Your eyes never left them, fearing if you looked away, they would move ever so closer.

A clap of lighting flashed across the window, your heart jumping from your throat as you fell backwards. A squeak left your mouth while your hand shot out in front of you to catch yourself. There was a muffled thump as you hit the ground, causing you to whine as your rear end ached.

The creaking of a door drew your attention.

“Bella, is everything alright?”

Copia’s concerned face sent relief washing through you. The tips of your ears were engulfed in blush, grateful it hadn’t been a different clergy member.

“Just peachy, darling” you responded shyly, eyes averting his gaze. For a moment, you sat on the carpet before you both fell into a chorus of laughter. Copia’s smile was wicked, hand held on the side of his waist for support.

“You fell off the window sill, didn’t you?”

He was in the middle of the room now, making his way towards you rather urgently.

“No, of course not”. Your tone was dripping with sarcasm, though your inflection rising as a gentle kissed was placed to your forehead. He extended his arm like the gentleman that he was and you took it, standing up once again. You were able to examine your partner, eyes drifting across his more casual ministry wear.

His gloved hands found his sides easily, “Well you’re lucky then, otherwise, you might have been too sore for cuddles”

Your left eyebrow perked upwards, causing crinkles on your forehead, “You’re not working?”

"Bah! I'm never finished. But I couldn't ignore this weather, and I thought it would be the perfect time to spend some time with my favourite person, eh?"

A shadow fell across his wide eyes as the clouds drifted forwards. Thunder rippled throughout the hollow halls of the ministry, the door cracking open with enough force for the walls to shake. Your facial expression dropped and the colour drained from it, your body mindlessly drifting to where you felt safe: under the blankets and in Copia's arms.

-

As the rain beat heavily against the roof, you held back a yawn. The heat of Copia's breath brushed against your neck, your head nuzzling further into the comfort of your plush pillows. Heart swooning, your tongue flicked across your lips as your hands secured Copia's against your waist. Between the bags underneath his sombre eyes and his sluggish mannerisms, you could tell he needed the rest.

"-Cara" He paused, dragging out an exhale. Your eyes peeled open to reveal the darkness of the room illuminate by the glow of the sky's fury. His side of the large king-sized bed was heavy, as was yours, sheets falling across your bodies. For once, the cold nipped at your toes and nose, leaving red marks in its wake.

"Yes...?". You were almost scared to speak back, feeling as though the darkness was creeping in and that your words would get lost in it.

“Would you fancy a hot chocolate? I could really go for some.”. He seemed unsure as the words left his mouth. You almost leapt from the bed, springing into action at the thought of soothing your restlessness.

The ministry was a beautiful thing, the walls looking as though they had been carved from marble. Light seeped through the crumbling cloisters, giving way to the patch of garden just outside your window. You often enjoyed late night strolls in the moonlight, the curfew but a scarce idea lingering in the back of your mind. Your robes would flutter in the wind as you paced.

Of course you weren’t going to object.

You were already at the door before Copia could register. He threw you a sleepy smile at your enthusiasm and bent down to collect his articles of clothing. You hadn’t taken off your pyjamas and stood waiting at the door patiently, eyes drifting across his body as he slipped on his pants and shirt. At the expanse of hair across his chest, you smirked as your eyes fell back on the fluffy carpet beneath your toes.

There was a grunt, followed by a thump as he dressed. You chuckled, observing as he sauntered towards you with a limp in his step.

Always clumsy, you thought to yourself.

His look was reassuring, eyes wide and awake despite the slump in his posture. Your hand inched towards the brass doorknob, your other bawled in a fist to rub against your eye. The promise of the warm drink kept you awake as well as the bitterness of the cold. You could almost taste the sweetness of the cream on your tongue.

As you both stepped into the hallway, Copia’a eyes darted left and right.

The hallway was full of a eery darkness which was broken by flashes of light. The musky smell of rain lingered where no human nor ghoul dared to tread. The halls all the Siblings of Sun once walked now sat empty.

The loving dork beside you was a far cry from the Papa everyone else knew him as. He was sweet and gentle, and while he could be seductive, tended to be reserved. And he loved 3 things the most in the world, beyond anything the ministry could offer him:

You.

His rats.

And sweet treats.

“Cara!” He whispered with urgency, throwing a hand over his shoulder and gesturing for you to follow, “Come! This way to the kitchen”

Your head shook, falling out of your bubble of thought. Breaking into a shuffle to catch up with him, the two of you wandered the halls in search of the kitchen. The rain continued just as heavily, the occasional drip falling from a weathered crack in the ceiling and hitting the floor with a light splash.

Before you knew it, you were at the archway which led into the dining hall. As your eyes feverishly scanned over the elongated tables and hundreds of chairs, it crossed the large arched observatory window. It peered out into the courtyard, which had become a makeshift lake. The candelabras in the cool stone brick walls emitted a dull but warm glow, enough for you to squint to see the outline of a door.

“I found it!” You exclaimed proudly as your hand placed itself firmly on the handle. The door groaned and its tired old hinges rattled as if an old person was scolding your childish mischief.

When you broke into the kitchen, Copia found your side with an impressed smirk displayed across his features. Hesitation consumed him as his arm paused halfway through going to flick on the light switch.

You eyed him curiously.

He had made the decision not to turn on the light for fear you would be caught. Papa or not, it was still embarrassing to be out after curfew if caught by Imperator, who would make sure you regretted it before the night was over.

Instead, he settled for the nearest candle holder and a pack of matches. Within a stroke, the red tip dragged across the surface of the matchbox, a fire sizzling into existence before he placed it delicately to the waxen candle. The flame’s light hovered across his softening expression.

You turned, satisfied, in the search of pot to heat the milk.

Before long, you were cooking with gas as you assembled the ingredients. The milk had been heated virtually silently and the cocoa powder sat on the table, ready to be opened. Copia had come to your side, pressing his side against yours reassuringly as he watched you work. The powder bubbles as it was mixed before dissolving into a murky brown colour. You took the mugs, one in each hand, and handed one to your partner.

He nodded and took it, eyes fluttering expectantly as the drink was brought to his lips. Your gaze darted to his lips as he removed the mug, then to the faint outline of a foamy moustache of milk. Letting out a small expression of laughter, he frowned, unaware.

“Maybe you should grow back the moustache. I forgot how good it looked on you”

Your sly comment didn’t go unnoticed as he raised the sleeve of his shirt to wipe it, only to be met with your protest. You tutted, placing your hand gently on his sleeve and lowering it. Before he could speak, you leaned forward and placed a carefully calculated but deep kiss to his soft lips.

His arm securely found the dip in your back and while he tilted you backwards, a muffle of approvement escaping his lips between kisses. Electricity tingled through you as he released you from his grasp. His eyes burned softly with passion, even in the dim light of the kitchen.

“Maybe I will, for you” he breathlessly laughed.

Mugs in hand, you both turned with a contentful smile toward the door once again. The walk to the bedroom from the kitchen appeared less like a long stretch of dauntingly barren tiles as before, and more as what it was ; a hallway made monster by rain.

In your comfort, you turned the corner with Copia trailing behind you, expecting another empty hallway.

But your heart must have jumped from your throat and into the floor as your eyes lay on Secondo. Beneath his arms were two women of unknown origin, one with ebony hair in ringlets, and the other with numbing blue eyes. From the way their swayed under his grasp, you could assume they were all tipsy.

“Bella what are you-” Copia paused, mouth snapping shut as he rounded the same corner to see you frozen in place.

Secondo’s eyes, glassy and fixed on the walkway ahead of him, pivoted to you. You felt your stomach drop as if you were on a roller coaster. There was a twinkle in them despite the bitterness of his appearance. Without a moment to spare, he winked casually as if to say ‘Don’t worry. I won’t tell if you don’t’ and continued the track back to his room.

You shook your head in disbelief as the man faded into the darkness of night, shushing his company as the giggles ceased. Reasserting a hand on your shouoder, Copia muttered, “That was close”

“Tell me about it. We’re lucky Secondo is the party animal. If it had been Primo, we would have been torn to shreds, Satan forbid, Sister Imperator!” Your whisper almost squeaked out as a loud exclamation, causing you to snap your palm over your lips.

The thought of dissolving into the sheets of your bed with Copia tucked under your arm was the only thing guiding you through the halls of the ministry on that rainy night.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[youwouldntlietopapa]

spamming your inbox with prompts until your wip list is exploding "was that okay"+"nervous kisses"+"stomach kisses" for copia

Listen, I'm just going to remind you that you asked for this. So this is on you.

Warnings: tw negative self talk, negative body image, weight mentions, public scrutiny, anxiety

Contains: 2200+ words, Copia x reader, no smut, hurt and comfort, domestic fluff

Also available on AO3

___________________________________________________________

Some days were good and some days were bad. There wasn’t always a reason, it was part of a cycle that had begun long before you had ever been there. One that you’d learned to spot the signs of, to see the ebb and flow, and how to get out in front of it when it was at all possible.

But today was a bad day that had come without warning. You may have suspected comments online but, in the end, it didn’t really matter what the reason was. Just that the fall out from one heartless comment, one person who didn’t care to see that there was a person behind the personality, would take a terrible toll on the sweetest man you knew and the last person in the world to deserve that kind of shit.

Copia had woken up already a bit off. Clinging a little closer than normal and not shy about how needy he felt. That, at least, was some small comfort. That his own mind hadn’t convinced him to turn inward and avoid asking anything. That he trusted you enough to be vulnerable and open with his needs. It was so much worse on days when he couldn’t even face you to ask for help. When you’d spend hours slowly, carefully, gently reminding him that he was safe and loved, that he deserved to be comfortable and cared for and happy. Most importantly, that you weren’t going to just leave.

But that morning he’d still been open enough to trust. Met without hesitation by every ounce of love and reassurance you could give. A long time spent simply holding him in the warmth of his bed, combing your fingers through his hair and whispering sweet nothings, affirmations, and love next to his ear and brushing against his lips. And though he blushed deeply and buried his face in your shoulder, he did manage to get out of bed in a better mood and still holding on to a little of his confidence.

That evening, however, he’d come back to your quarters looking worse than before. He’d said little and taken his comfy clothes into the bathroom with him, closing the door to be alone. The sounds of him fussing with his semi-formal office clothes were clear enough and the sound of the shower. When the water stopped, you could hear him shuffling around and then… nothing. Eavesdropping is a nasty habit and you knew it, but you strained hard, trying to hear anything. The only thing of note was the sound of a small sniffle.

You knocked softly, calling through the door. “Is everything all right, sweetheart?”

“Si… Yes, all right. Don’t worry, amore.”

It would have been easier to not worry if he sounded less like he was trying not to cry. The handle was unlocked and, it felt like intrusion, but you couldn’t just do nothing. “Copia, I’m coming in.” You offered softly, poking your head in but keeping your eyes down just in case. “Is it all right if I look?”

You heard him sigh and the long pause before answering felt like a no. Any longer and you’d have given up and let him have a few minutes more.

“… Si.”

Looking up slowly, you took in everything you saw. Nothing too terribly out of place. His favourite comfy outfit, his still damp hair. But his jacket was on and zipped up, despite the damp heat left over from the shower, and his eyes looked puffy and red. Worse still, he wouldn’t meet your eyes, keeping his gaze locked onto a random spot on the sink.

“Nothing to see…” His voice cracked and he stopped to try and convince his throat to cooperate. “Nothing at all.”

You open the door a little further and walk right in, over to him, standing between him and the mirror. He still didn’t look up, focusing on your collar bones instead. Only relenting when you lifted his chin to look at him properly. The look in his eyes ripping the heart right out of you. “What do you mean nothing, my love? I see so much and I love every bit.”

“So much…” He mumbled, looking away again. “More each day.”

It wasn’t what you’d expected and you blinked at him, trying to work out he could mean. You reached out to hold him, to wrap your arms around him to trying and keep him grounded. But the moment your hands touched his stomach, he flinched away like it burned.

“Copia… please… what’s wrong? I only want to help.” Not matter how much you wanted to step closer, to touch him, to comfort him, he’d stepped away and you respected the distance he needed.

“Non è niente. Veramente.” He furrowed his brow and chewed the inside of his cheek, looking distinctly like he was trying not to let his tears betray him.

“It’s not nothing if it has you this upset. I know you better than this and I can see how hurt you are. If it’s something I said or I did, please, I want to know. I would never do anything like that on purpose and I if I did it unintentionally, I want to know what it is so I don’t do it again.”

“No, no, no.” His eyes snapped back to meet yours. Any other thought vanishing from his mind. He was hurting, but he couldn’t let you carry that guilt or take the blame. “No, amore. Not you. Never you. You hear what I say?”

“I do. But I don’t understand what happened. If it wasn’t me, then who? If it was Nihil, I swear I will string that old bastard up by his balls.”

At least that got a chuckle. Copia stepped closer finally reaching for your hand. “Not him either, amore. Just… Just stupid shit.”

You clung to his hand, worried he’d pull away again. “Tell me? Please?”

“… They say I let myself go.” It was barely a whisper and he crossed his arm over his stomach like he might hide.

It took an impressive amount of willpower to keep your expression and tone calm when all you wanted to do is strangle whoever said that. “Who, my love? Who said?”

A blush creeps up his neck and he drops his head in defeat. “People. Online. They say I let myself go, that I get old, that… that I don’t look so good now.” He sniffed, wiping his eye with the cuff of his hoodie. “… they are right, amore. Look at me. I am soft… and old… Tutti possono vedere le mie maniglie dell'amore.”

“And what’s so bad about that?” You asked gently. “I am looking and what I see are all the things I love about you. Your grey hairs and the lines that show how often you’ve smiled and your worries and your joys. The way you have, yes, gotten a little softer over time. I love that too. I love knowing that you’re not so stressed you forget half your meals like you used to. And I love knowing that you are healthy and happy.”

He furrowed his brow more and set his jaw. The war between your words and the hateful voices rattling around in his head was plain on his face.

Gently, you gave his hand a tug. “Will you come with me? The mirror is only giving you more to pick apart.”

Reluctantly, he nodded, following your lead. Out of the bathroom and through your quarters to the bed. Watching almost nervously as you climbed up onto your side. With a little encouragement, he joined you, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. You shifted closer, pausing before reaching out for him.

“May I?”

Copia turned his head to look at you, realising what you’d meant, and nodded. Normally he would have eagerly fallen into your embrace, wrapping himself around you protectively and desperately in equal measure. But just then, he simply shifted his arm to let you press against his side and wrap your arm around him.

Slowly, carefully, you placed a feather-light kiss on his neck. Another and another, moving up toward his ear. Your nose nuzzling against his warm skin and his familiar scent. Paying close attention to any sign of him pulling away. When he tensed slightly, it stopped you dead.

“… was that okay?” You asked softly.

He nodded once more, even with his internal struggle clear on his face. Copia closed his eyes and huffed. You could feel him trying to let go of the tension and to relax. You weren’t the people who’d said those things. This was your private place, just the two of you, where he knew he was safe. So why was it so hard to let go of those feelings? He rolled, all at once, on to his side to face you before his nerve gave out. Looking you in the eye again and cupping your cheek.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, amore. And I treat you like the enemy… like I don’t trust you. Forgive me? Please?” His voice was so soft and you could hear the way it threatened to crack.

“There’s nothing to forgive. You haven’t done anything wrong either.” You pressed a little closer, trying to keep your hands to places that wouldn’t upset him. “You don’t have to apologise for being hurt and trying to protect yourself. I’m not angry, not with you. I am very angry with whoever said such horrible things. But not you.”

His kiss was soft and almost timid, like it hadn’t been in a long time. Not since the early days of knowing him. Kissing you nervously, as if he were waiting for you to pull away. Instead, you leaned into his touch and his kisses. Careful not to rush or to push him, just trying to reassure and urge him on, letting him set the pace.

Your fingers softly traced the lines of his face. They’d gotten deeper since he’d become Papa and there were more grey hairs. But they were him and they were perfect. “You are so beautiful, my love. I wish I could show you what I see when I look at you because I think, sometimes, you see a very different man in the mirror.”

“Tesoro…” He protested softly, looking away again.

“No, tesoro. It’s the truth. When I look at you, what I see is the man who can make my heart race with a look. The man who I have to hold myself back from running my hands over at every given opportunity, no matter how public. The man who I thank the Dark Lord for every day because no one has ever done the things you do to me without even trying. And then beyond all that, you are still the sweetest, kindest, most sincere, loving, funny, charming, brilliant, talented man I have ever met in my life.” You kissed his rapidly reddening cheek.

“I know, my heart. I know how loud those angry, spiteful, hate filled voice can get and I know they’re so hard to ignore. How often have you sat and patiently gone over how wrong my own inner demons are? How many times have you had to reassure me of your feelings, no matter how much I know better, because I couldn’t make the logic stick?” Gently, you nudged his shoulder, guiding him onto his back again. Once you’d straddled his legs, you bent down kiss his neck. His hands ran down your sides, settling on your hips. “So what makes you think I wouldn’t be right here, telling you exactly how much I love you and how beautiful you are, as many times and as loudly as I need to to drown out the lies echoing in your head, hmm?”

“Non ti merito, caro.” His voice was barely a whisper and you could see the tears collecting at the corner of his eyes.

“Nulla di tutto ciò.” You sat up just a little to kiss him properly. “Meritare? Decido io chi mi merita, no?” Your kissed his chin and his neck. “E sei tu che scelgo. Voi.” Trailing down his chest, over his comfy old shirt. “Ogni singolo giorno.” You felt him tensing slightly, but his hands on your hips didn’t grip tighter. “Non c'è nessun altro che voglio.”

When your hands slipped under his shirt and over his warm skin, you froze. You could feel him struggling not to pull away. Looking up at him, he stared right back at you and nodded, even as a heavy tear rolled down his cheek.

“Non c'è nessuno più meritevole.”Your hands eased his shirt up higher, exposing his waist and his stomach. First tracing his sides with your hands, they didn’t avoid his love handles but savoured them. “Solo tu.”

Your first kiss pressed into the give of his stomach and then another and another. Slowly, gently, pouring every ounce of love for him into each one, and covering every inch of his skin in kisses. Fingers teased through the dark trail of hair down his stomach as you nuzzled your nose against him.

“You are beautiful, Copia. More than I have the words for. I wouldn’t change you for all the world.”

His hands moved from your waist to grab your arms, pulling you up to himself. He wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly against his chest, face buried in your shoulder. “Per favore, non te ne andare.”

“Never.” You wrapped him in your own embrace, kissing his temple. “We’re partners, aren’t we? That means we fight our demons together. You and me. Always.”

Copia sniffled and nodded.

“Together.”

___________________________________________________________

Non è niente. Veramente. - It's nothing. Really.

Tutti possono vedere le mie maniglie dell'amore. - Everyone can see my love handles.

Non ti merito, caro. - I don't deserve you, darling.

Nulla di tutto ciò. Meritare? Decido io chi mi merita, no? E sei tu che scelgo. Voi. Ogni singolo giorno. Non c'è nessun altro che voglio. Non c'è nessuno più meritevole. Solo tu. - None of that. Deserve? I decide who deserves me, right? And it's you I choose. You. Every single day. There is no one else I want. There is no one more deserving. Only you.

Per favore, non te ne andare. - Please don't leave