#happy death day for terzo. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghoulangerlee · 6 months

Text

are you watching me with eyes of a predator ; swiss/ifrit

commissioned by @wrathofrats, this one got to be so out of control from what I originally planned but I do have to say I'm very happy with how it turned out haha.

7k of sloppy sex featuring newly summoned Swiss and Ifrit who's in charge of his surface acclimation.

content: wing/feather kink, Just The Tip, cunnilingus, Wet&Messy, multiple orgasms, vague play at Innocence kink, Ifrit-bimbofication, Swiss has a cunt in this one though he's not explicitly mentioned to be trans (cunt and clit and folds are used for his anatomy).

read it here on ao3!

fic under the read more:

The summoning chambers are always cold, mostly dark—the ceilings high and grand in a way that makes it feel less like a basement and more like a chapel.

At least, that’s what Ifrit thinks as he stands off to the side, watching Cardinal Copia putter around the chamber, the circle is pristine and stark in the center of the room and each candle corresponding with the elemental symbol sits in its place—it's all too perfect really, so much different from the other summonings he’s been a part of.

He’s only here to be part of the welcoming crew, as his place in the band had been dissolved, much to his own relief. There was an ache in him after Terzo’s death, something about going back on stage with a new face didn’t sit right with him, made him feel jumpy and nervous—he's not sure why, but he knew that once Cardinal Copia became part of it all, he’d need to step back.

So, he did.

But he’s been helping with a few behind the scenes things for now, practicing with Dew, who’s taken his spot in the band, working with Rain, the new water ghoul that Cardinal Copia had summoned—and while it wasn’t the exciting life that Terzo had promised him when he was first summoned, it was definitely different.

The Cardinal is speaking, reciting Latin from a book he’s holding, chanting through stanzas of words as the circle on the floor starts to come to life—around them, the others are waiting with bated breath to see if the offering, if the request is enough to entice another ghoul forward.

It can be tricky sometimes to find the ghouls who want to come to the surface, and while it's supposed to be voluntary, he knows that sometimes it’s not, and in the past, it had been such a big thing within the church.

He likes to think that Cardinal Copia is on the right side of history these days, but it’s always hard to tell—he'd been summoned and promised so many things, only for his summoner to be murdered and his station in church be questioned by the very people who’d carried out the murder.

There’s a hush in the room and Ifrit’s drawn back to the present in enough time to see a ghoul claw its way out of the portal—stark black skin and shining mismatched eyes, the ghoul has feathers but smells strongly of fire, of burning wood and ozone.

Ifrit is almost immediately enamored.

His name is Swiss, at least, that’s what he settles on after the others gather round and toss out name suggestions—they all have names, but some of them are harder for humans to vocalize, most of them unable to properly speak Infernal in a way that’s understandable.

It’s just easier to choose a new name, rather than be referred to as ghoul all the time (though this doesn’t discount the ghouls who do want to be called ghoul; it’s their prerogative, but Ifrit doesn’t like the way the word sits on a human tongue, sounding more like an insult than a name.).

When Swiss grins at being called Swiss, Ifrit has to look away from that sharp yet bright smile, the sparkle in his eyes—one is a soft lavender color and the other a warm brown, because suddenly he wants to be the reason that Swiss is smiling.

Cardinal Copia calls him forth and Ifrit goes, while the others are still fawning over Swiss, he ignores it in favor of focusing on the human, standing with his hands clasped behind his back in front of him.

“I know you’re probably tired of this,” Cardinal Copia says with a wry sort of laugh, “But do you have the bandwidth to acclimate one more ghoul?”

Ifrit grins, looks back at where Swiss is standing in a half-formed circle with the others, then back at the Cardinal, he shrugs, tries not to show his excitement at the prospect of it all, “I could move a few things around.”

The worry lines on the Cardinals face seem to melt away and he smiles, reaches out and gently pats his gloved hand against Ifrit’s sleeve covered arm, “Thank you, I’ll make sure to requisition pay for this,” he says as a promise—and yeah, the money is good, but the idea of having a newly summoned hybrid ghoul almost outweighs it.

Well. He’s getting a bit ahead of himself.

“No worries, Cardinal. I know the song catalogue too; do you know what you’re going to have him do yet? We can work on that once we finish with the acclimation.”

Cardinal Copia looks thoughtful, “I’ll need to think it over first, but I’ll let you know. If you could get him familiar with it all though, that’d be wonderful.”

“No problem,” Ifrit says with a casual indifference that he’s somewhat proud of, “If there’s anything else just let me know. I’m going to go ahead and,” he breaks off, waving his hand in the direction of the other ghouls—they've got Swiss wrapped up in a cloak now, hood pulled over his head, but despite that, Ifrit can still see the glow of his eyes. “We’re going to head up to the den now if that’s alright with you.”

(Expecting a newly summoned ghoul to glamour so soon can backfire sometimes, can be messy and horrifying if they’re not used to the surface, if their magic isn’t attuned to everything, if they’re without a proper pack—not that Swiss had been summoned packless, he’d been, by default, initiated the moment he accepted the offerings, but still, it was better safe than sorry.)

The Cardinal pats Ifrit’s arm one more time before stepping back, “Yes, of course, thank you again. I’ll be in touch about the rest of it all. And you should expect payment within the next week. I trust that you’ll take care of him.”

Ifrit smiles sickly sweet, “Of course, Cardinal, only the best care for the band ghouls.”

Swiss is different, Ifrit learns as the two of them spend a lot of time together—almost immediately after the pack whisk him away out of the basement and up to the den, the tense line of his shoulders goes loose and the drops the hood down from over his head.

He grins at Ifrit, cocking his head to the side—his tightly coiled curls bouncing with the movement of his head, “Didn’t realize there could be two fire ghouls in the band.”

There’s something melodic and mesmerizing about his voice and Ifrit blinks a few times to clear the sudden fog in his mind, “There’s not,” he answers, “I’m not in the band, I just help with the administrative stuff.”

Swiss cocks an eyebrow at him, “So I’m administrative stuff then?” he asks, shifting the cloak around his shoulders enough that the front of it opens just enough for Ifrit to get an eyeful of dark, bare skin; the flash of lavender further down.

He clears his throat, “Acclimation falls under administrative,” he says, knowing how stupid he sounds as he says it, but unable to stop his mouth from continuing the thought, “I’m pretty good at it. Acclimating new ghouls to the surface.”

“Oh?” Swiss asks, his eyes shining in amusement, tugging the front of the cloak together again, “Well, then I’m glad that I’m in your capable hands,” he purrs, stepping further into Ifrit’s space, “I’m sure you’ll teach me all about life on the surface.”

He does, or he tries to, but Swiss is so distracting—on purpose it feels like.

It takes Swiss several days to fully form his glamour, so he spends a good portion of the time before mostly nude; not uncommon because Rain had been completely nude for the first few weeks of him time here, but Ifrit hadn’t wanted to drag Rain to his bed in the same way that he wants Swiss there.

And Swiss seems to know it too, if the way he preens whenever he catches Ifrit watching him, the way he seems to purposely run his fingers through the no doubt soft feathers that Ifrit can see peeking just above the waistband of the slacks he’s wearing.

Unfortunately, Ifrit knows just how far those feathers go down as pants were a new thing for Swiss within the last day, now choosing to mostly walk around shirtless within the den—he’s less feathered below the belt, he’d explained, and every shirt he’d tried on thus far just felt constricting to his feathers.

Again, everything was fine.

He was sure that this was a very normal thing that air ghouls went through, he was summoned after Zephyr, so he hadn’t had a chance to see if this was just how they were on the surface or not, too focused on his own acclimation.

He was sure that his own mind made things worse because of how attractive he found Swiss, because the others seemed less enamored by him, though no doubt just as friendly, like pack were.

Like Ifrit should have been.

Instead, he was here trying his best not to scare off Swiss—sex was a natural thing, as natural to them as breathing most of the time, their nature as ghouls meant they had less reservations about things than humans did so it should have been no problem, just bring it up to Swiss and then it’d be done.

They could fuck about it and move on with the acclimation.

But maybe, just maybe Ifrit had been around humans for too long and now he’s here, reconsidering everything; thinking about going to the Cardinal and letting him know that he’ll need to get someone else to help with the acclimation because he couldn’t do it with a clear head.

Not when his baser instincts were nearly screaming at him to take Swiss to bed, to make him his.

Maybe, if he could just ignore the voice inside his head, telling him that every little thing Swiss was doing was Swiss opening up to him, accepting him as some sort of sexual partner even though he hadn’t asked—well, if he could ignore it, then he wouldn’t feel so awful about the focus he was putting on trying to make sure Swiss understood what life on the surface was like instead of putting his focus on pack bonding.

(If he focused too hard on Swiss and pack then his mind tended to get possessive. The urge to take Swiss and hide him away, the need to be the one to make Swiss smile, laugh, happy.)

Swiss however, was no idiot.

“You smell like you want to fuck,” Swiss says bluntly, head tilted as he corners Ifrit—he's taller, by only a few inches, taller, but not as broad as Ifrit, except when he’s got Ifrit backed up against the wall of the den, Ifrit feels small.

Ifrit makes a noise, presses his hands flat against the wall, “Oh, it’s...almost time for. You know how ghoul biology works,” he says, though it's a flimsy excuse, about six months too early to really mean anything—the pulse of heat under his skin has nothing to do with anything other than the way Swiss is looking down at him.

“Mmhm,” Swiss says, somewhat like he barely believes him and well, fair, even Ifrit barely believes the things he’s said. “I’m beginning to think you don’t like me all that much, firebird,” he plants a hand beside Ifrit’s head and leans down into his space, “But your scent tells me that you do like me and it’s very confusing.”

That’s all fine and dandy because Ifrit is also confused.

“I’m supposed to help you acclimate,” Ifrit says carefully, not wanting to reveal too much about himself or the entire situation, “Cardinal Copia asked me to do it because the others are preparing for the tour coming up, easier to delegate to the guy who’s not going on tour.”

Swiss tilts his head, his mismatched eyes look bigger up close, shiny and wide as he stares into Ifrit’s eyes before leaning back, “I’ve been on the surface before,” he says slowly, “I...am almost certain I mentioned that before. I know how this whole thing works, just not the glamour bit cause I didn’t need one of those where I was last summoned.”

Swiss may have mentioned it once, maybe twice, if Ifrit thinks about it too hard and pushes past the weird feelings he has around that, not that Swiss being summoned previously is a problem—it's actually the opposite of it, it’s something so grand that Ifrit almost wants to propose they fuck about this whole misunderstanding.

(Is it really a misunderstanding if only Ifrit misunderstood?)

“You’ve been really weird this whole time, you smell like you want me but then you shy away from touching me,” Swiss stares hard at Ifrit’s face, almost enough to make Ifrit squirm, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have some sort of weird thing about wanting to fuck me but not wanting to fuck me because I’m new.”

It’s a little judgmental, his words, and Ifrit can’t help the stir of shame, the flood of arousal, he swallows heavily, works his jaw a few times trying to find the right words, “Well,” he says, “I just don’t want to come on too strong or anything.”

Swiss laughs then, it’s a loud and boisterous sound and it fills Ifrit with warmth, “Too strong?” he asks, and then he reaches up, shuffles his fingers through his own hair, lower down towards the back of his neck, works something free—a feather, it’s soft purple on the ends, the color fading into a warm chocolate brown towards the base.

Ifrit watches somewhat dumbly as Swiss brings the feather closer, drawing the tip of it against his cheek, down his jaw, ticking his throat, “I think when you figure out your little shame thing, you should come find me,” he whispers.

He flushes, pale pink against his gray skin, eyes fluttering a little as Swiss drags the tip of the feather across his collarbones, “Maybe we can work something out,” he continues, speaking in a near whisper now as he finally straightens, pulls the feather away from Ifrit’s skin.

“But you’ve got to be the one to make the first move, baby,” Swiss murmurs smoothly, reaching down to take Ifrit’s hand, rubbing his thumb against the center of his palm before he presses the feather into Ifrit’s hand, a clear sign of his intentions.

“Too strong?” he asks as he takes a few steps back, a satisfied grin on his lips as he watches Ifrit for a moment. “You know where to find me, baby.”

Before Ifrit’s able to form a proper sentence, Swiss is gone, melting into the shadows like some kind of apparition, leaving behind a feather and the lingering scent of burning wood and ozone.

It takes him decidedly less time to get over himself as Swiss had put it in not so many words, the feather held delicately between his fingers as he paced the length of the den, sure that if he were to walk any harder or any faster, he’d wear a hole in the stone.

“Oh, he finally told you, huh?” Dew asks, coming into the den, carrying a basket of laundry, “We were wondering if you were ever going to catch on that he was trying to get your attention.”

Ifrit stops walking, turns to look at Dew, who’s stopped by the door, watching him, “You knew?” he asked, “Why didn’t you say something?”

Dew snorts softly and hefts the basket of laundry up higher on his hip, “What? And miss a chance to watch you fumble around? You were the one who decided to think too loud with your dick and ignore what Swiss was saying to you.”

“I’ll admit that I’ve been handling him too carefully,” Ifrit says, only mildly insulted by Dew’s insinuation, “But, the last thing anyone needs is being accosted by the person helping them acclimate when they’re first summoned.”

Unimpressed, Dew finally moves further into the room and places the laundry basket down on the couch, “Yeah, he made it very clear that first week that he wasn’t new to the surface, and one could argue that he made it clearer by accepting your advances, however unconscious those were,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Seriously though, and I mean this in the nicest way I can muster, you smell absolutely disgusting to me right now, will you please go take care of that so things can go vaguely back to normal.”

It’s not a question and there’s an undercurrent of annoyance in Dew’s tone that Ifrit’s not too keen on pushing, “Yeah, sure, I was just thinking,” he holds the feather up, twirling it between his fingers, “I’ll get out of your hair, take care of everything and you’ve got nothing to worry about, big guy.”

Dew levels him with another unimpressed stare, “Just go,” he says, “Satan help me, you’re the one acting like you’ve never bedded a new summon before.”

A fair point that Ifrit doesn’t try to argue on, choosing instead to leave the communal den and to leave Dew to his chores, heart pounding as he heads down the hallway towards the separate dens each ghoul has—the whole time Dew’s words bounce around in his head.

Accepting your advances.

“Was I really that obtuse?” he asks himself out loud as he hurries further down the hallway until he comes to a stop in front of Swiss’s room.

The door’s ajar, just slightly, and there’s low humming coming from inside.

Ifrit pauses there with his hand raised to knock, biting his lower lip. He could knock, could push the door open and announce his presence—he could, but he stops for a moment, steps back and takes a deep breath.

“You can come inside, you know,” Swiss’s voice calls out, amused, “I won’t bite unless you ask first.”

He pushes the door open just enough to slip inside and closes it quietly behind him—Swiss's room smells strongly of the multi-ghoul and little else; the scent of smoldering wood permeates the area, filling Ifrit’s senses, calling to him; there’s an undercurrent of something fresh, the smell of open air on a sunny day.

Swiss himself is lounging on the bed, blankets haphazard like he’d been sleeping; he’s wearing sweats and a cropped t-shirt, only glamoured enough that his wings aren’t visible, and Ifrit feels ravenous all of a sudden.

“My eyes are up here, firebird,” Swiss says, amused, a grin stretching across his lips when Ifrit’s eyes meet his instead of where they’d been glued to his feathery happy trail.

Ifrit’s mouth feels dry and there’s heat coursing through his veins, “I don’t have feathers,” he says, somewhat dumbly.

Swiss pushes himself into a sitting position and reaches a hand out towards Ifrit, “You don’t,” he agrees easily, beckoning him forward with a finger, “Come here and I’ll show you mine.”

A choked noise leaves Ifrit but he shuffles forward, letting himself come to a stop as his knees hit the foot of Swiss’s bed—not that he stays there for long, because Swiss is sitting up further, reaching out and fisting a hand in his shirt, dragging him up onto the bed with little to no preamble.

“Dew said you had a thing for newly summoned ghouls and that once they’re acclimated, you like to invite them to bed with you,” Swiss murmurs in the space between them—this close, Ifrit can make out the specks of white and gold in Swiss’s brown eye, like constellations. “Probably threw you off that I’ve already been up here, huh?”

“A little bit,” Ifrit agrees, his voice low as he plants a hand on the bed beside Swiss’s hip—he's so close to him, half leaning over him, “Doesn’t mean I’m any less interested though, if you’ll have me.”

Swiss grins up at him, “I let you in here, didn’t I?” he asks, rhetorical, “I hope my experience isn’t off putting,” he murmurs then, tilting his head a little bit, lower lip brushing the curve of Ifrit’s in the barest hint of a kiss, “I can pretend to not know what your intentions are, let you show me what it’s like if that’s a deal breaker.”

Ifrit snorts in amusement at Swiss’s words, though the idea is enticing in a way, he shakes his head and brushes their lips together, finally, properly. “We can compare notes,” he mumbles, “Can I see your feathers now?” he asks, ignoring the way his voice goes a bit airy towards the end, like he’s whining.

A hum and Swiss’s hand comes up to the back of Ifrit’s neck, finally drawing him into something more than just a brush of lips—he's a little rough with it, a little bit overeager in the same way that Ifrit feels; sharp teeth catch on his lower lip for a moment before Ifrit’s opening his mouth, Swiss’s scent spiking up sharply as their tongues brush.

The hand on the back of his neck squeezes and it draws a sharp moan from Ifrit, Swiss easily swallowing the noise as the kiss continues, as it deepens further—and it’s different, bedding a freshly summoned ghoul who knows what they’re doing, still smelling of brimstone and ozone, still so in tune with their own instincts without the interference of humanity.

The kiss breaks and Ifrit’s immediately assaulted with the feeling of Swiss’s mouth on his jaw, down his throat, teeth sharp and dangerous against the delicate skin—the rush of it all makes Ifrit lightheaded. Swiss could easily incapacitate him if he wanted to, and Ifrit wouldn’t even try to stop him.

“What are you thinking about?” Swiss mumbles, dragging the sharp point of his canine over where Ifrit’s pulse is beating heavily.

Ifrit swallows thickly, eyes fluttering closed as he tilts his head back, bares his throat more, revels in the low, approving purr that comes from Swiss, “Thinking about you biting me,” he answers easily, breath hitching when Swiss fits his teeth against his throat, just pressing them there. “Shit, yeah, just like that.” he says, feeling nearly faint.

There’s a rumble of a laugh and Swiss’s teeth press inward; the shock of pain draws a moan from Ifrit—he feels shaky and loose, grabs at Swiss’s shoulder with one hand to keep himself centered, “That’s it, pretty bird,” he slurs, shivers when Swiss pulls away and drags the flat of his tongue over the indentions left by his teeth. “Fuck.”

“Who knew all I needed to do was get you in my bed for you to actually be normal around me,” Swiss mumbles, amused, and then he’s nudging Ifrit back onto his knees properly, so Ifrit’s kneeling in front of him on the bed. “It was cute watching you try to be careful though, all while smelling like you wanted to jump me.”

Ifrit groans, brings both hands up to cover his face, “Can we not talk about that, I’m here, aren’t I?” he asks, his voice going whiny again, and Swiss takes pity on him, prying his hands away from his face to kiss him again.

Somehow, at some point, they end up horizontal on the bed, side by side for now, sharing kisses, open mouthed and messy—Ifrit’s fingers find the shock of lavender feathers above the waistband of Swiss’s sweats, and he whimpers into the kiss as he drags his knuckles over them, the soft and downy feeling making him feel as if he’s going to burst.

There’s a laugh, the sound pouring into his mouth right before Swiss pulls away from the kiss, pressing a closed mouth kiss against his lower lip, “You want to see more?” he asks softly, biting at his jaw again, “Wanna feel more?”

Ifrit whimpers again and lets Swiss shove a leg between his thigh, giving him something to grind the hard line of his cock against, “Please,” he mumbles, begs as his other hand claws at the waistband of Swiss’s pants, “Let me see.”

“You’re so hot when you’re like this,” Swiss says reverently, shifting forward to press Ifrit back into the bed, hovering over him, “Begging to get in my pants,” he coos, head tilted as he smiles down at Ifrit, “Never had some beg like this, for me,” he adds and then he’s pulling the cropped shirt off, tossing it aside, allowing Ifrit a moment to feel along the hard planes of his chest, his stomach, fingers immediately going back to his happy trail.

He laughs then, “Oh baby, I think you’ve got a thing for my feathers,” he says, sitting back properly so he can shove his sweatpants down—there's nothing under them and Ifrit’s mouth waters as more skin, more feathers are revealed; they’re a little darker the further down they go, a bit curled and damp with Swiss’s arousal.

Ifrit makes a punched-out sort of noise, hands grasping at Swiss’s hips in desperation—he wants to taste him, wants to get his mouth on Swiss’s cunt, bury himself there until he can’t breathe.

“Can’t say I’ve ever made anyone speechless,” Swiss jokes, shifting around atop Ifrit until he’s able to properly kick off his sweatpants, laughing again when he’s suddenly being pulled forward until his thighs are spread wide over the width of Ifrit’s chest. “See something you like?” he asks, humming a little when Ifrit digs his fingers into the meat of his lower back, a clear sign of restraint.

“These your feathers?” Ifrit asks, the words sticking heavily to his tongue as he lets go of Swiss’s hips and presses his thumbs into the patch of feathers framing his cunt, “You lure all the ghouls you sleep with into bed by flashing them?”

Swiss shudders above him and Ifrit can feel the way his muscles move just under his skin, how they jump at the touch, the feathers ruffling, “Nope,” he says, his voice surprisingly steady, “You’re the first I’ve met that’s wanted them out.”

Something about that makes something inside Ifrit preen, a first—and yeah, okay, he may like being the first at things sometimes, but even the knowledge that Swiss has slept with others in the past does nothing to quell his thoughts.

Ifrit takes a moment to peer up at Swiss, his thumbs still carefully massaging into the feathers—Swiss is watching him with heavy eyes, the black of his pupil thin slits among the color of his irises before they expand and Swiss blinks down at him slowly, rolls his hips forward, trying to encourage more.

Ifrit licks his lips and watches as Swiss’s eyes drop to his mouth, digging his knees into the bed for leverage as he rocks forward again, and Ifrit lets his thumbs inch closer to his core, where he can see the barest hint of dark pink nestled among the feathers.

He lets out a sound, something incredulous, pressing a thumb inward and feeling as if Swiss himself had taken the air from his lungs, wanting nothing more than to fit his mouth over that pink nub, drink from him until Swiss is shaking and begging for it.

When Swiss shifts his hips backwards, Ifrit curls his thumb into the soft, silky skin of his cunt, spreading his lips just enough to make his own want surge—he's so pink, he’s so pretty and Satan, he must say that out loud because Swiss makes a noise, jerks forward until Ifrit’s thumb slides right up into his clit, warm and wet and pulsing.

There’s a flush on Swiss’s cheeks, a constellation of dusky pink and gold, coloring down his throat, towards his chest, his mouth is open, he’s panting, grinding his hips forward in a tight circle, all but manipulating his clit against the pad of Ifrit’s thumb.

The color of his eyes swallowed up by the black of his pupils.

“Up here,” Ifrit manages to get out, grips at one of Swiss’s thighs while pressing his thumb harder against Swiss, “Up, sit on my face,” he gets out, letting loose a tortured noise when Swiss scrambles further up, thighs bracketing right around Ifrit’s head as he settles down there.

Swiss’s scent is thicker here, Ifrit’s nose pressed into the tuft of feathers right above his cunt—he takes a moment to breathe him in, grips both of Swiss’s thighs and pulls him down, and sure he’s eaten others out before, knows he’s got skills, an oral thing he’d been told by past partners, but he’s never had someone on his face with feathers.

It’s not much different to the coarse hair, the scales or the other ghoulish traits he’s had previous experience with, but it makes him feel heady in a way that he can’t describe, the gentle tickle of feathers against his cheeks as he nudges Swiss’s lips apart, licking into him eagerly.

Swiss’s hands immediately come to rest in his hair, one gripping the short strands tightly while the other cradles the side of his head; he’s moaning, a low and happy sort of thing as he grinds down onto Ifrit’s tongue, thighs spasming.

Ifrit makes a noise, shifts his head so his nose nudges against Swiss’s clit, licks deeper into him wondering if this will be the first time Swiss has gotten off since being summoned this time; it’s always easy and quick the first time, getting someone to the edge, that is. The rearranging of their genetic makeup to exist on the surface doing something to them.

It’s why he’s always keen to get a new summon in bed, to bring them to the edge over and over, a pleasant welcome to the surface.

He wiggles a hand in between their bodies for a moment, uses his thumb to hold Swiss open as he works his jaw, presses his tongue in as far as he can get it—in times like these, he wishes he were the type of fire ghoul who could lengthen his tongue, he’s not though, but he manages; using his grip on Swiss’s thigh to hold the ghoul down against him.

Swiss makes a noise in outrage, trying to break Ifrit’s hold on him, wanting to move, but Ifrit just holds him still, keeps him there as he takes his fill, and then he’s shifting his touch from holding Swiss open to drawing slow circles around his clit, his tongue doing something inside Swiss that has his thighs shaking around Ifrit’s head.

And Swiss comes, of course he does, he can’t help it—can't help the way he tightens his grip on Ifrit’s hair and tries to drag his face closer, closer, closer (even though he’s as close as he can be without being inside Swiss), Ifrit’s name falls from his lips as he pulses through his orgasm, gasping almost painfully as Ifrit keeps licking and licking and licking at him until he’s shaking, coming again so suddenly that he makes a wounded noise and tries to shove Ifrit’s head away.

Ifrit’s grip on his thigh loosens and Swiss shifts back and away from Ifrit, still shaking the slightest as he settles back onto the bed to catch his breath.

Ifrit is, of course, grinning this satisfied sort of thing, the lower part of his face a mess of slick; his eyes are glowing as he looks at Swiss—and he’s hard in his pants, a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by Swiss.

“Insatiable,” Is the first thing he’s able to say once he’s caught his breath, splay-legged and lying beside Ifrit, “Absolutely disgusting.”

Ifrit laughs at that and rolls onto his side, bullying his way close to Swiss, throwing an arm over his waist and nuzzling into his jaw, rubbing the scent of Swiss’s slick and Ifrit’s own pheromones into Swiss’s feathers, matting them down and making the two of them reek of each other. “Didn’t hear you complaining,” he murmurs, mouths at Swiss’s jaw for a moment before pulling back to look at him properly.

Swiss turns his head, peering up at Ifrit with his mismatched eyes; watching him for a long moment before he smiles, something small and secretive, “Sounds like you’re fishing for a compliment,” he says, and then he’s reaching up, cupping the back of Ifrit’s neck with one of his hands—big and warm against his already overheated skin, dragging him down into a kiss that tastes like the two of them.

Ifrit’s the one who separates them first, panting softly against Swiss’s mouth as he does it, “Not fishing,” he mumbles, presses another kiss to Swiss’s lips, “But I wouldn’t say no to a compliment if you have one.”

“Of course,” Swiss says with a laugh, scratching his nails through the short hairs at the base of Ifrit’s neck, “You do have quite the mouth on you,” he adds after a moment, leaning in and biting at Ifrit’s lower lip, leaving behind the barest hint of teeth marks.

A moan, low and pleased, both from the bite and the compliment, it’s praise to him, knowing he was able to satisfy Swiss with just his mouth does things to his brain, makes him feel a little floaty and happy, makes him want to do more and draw more praise from Swiss’s lips.

Content to lie there while Swiss comes down, he nearly forgets about his own need until he feels Swiss’s hand tug at the buttons on his pants, “If you’re the type to not need reciprocation, let me know now,” Swiss is mumbling, “But I really want to touch you, been thinking about getting my hand around this from the beginning.”

“Beginning?” Ifrit asks, shifting back so he can help Swiss get his pants undone and pushed down, “Shit, no, no, please, you can do whatever you want to my baby, I’m real easy.”

Swiss hums softly, pleased and happy as he gets Ifrit almost fully nude, “Shirt goes too,” he says, shifting to push Ifrit onto his back again, hands pushing the material up until Ifrit’s able to get it off, “And yes, the beginning. Do you think I just show my feathers to anyone?” he asks, incredulously before he’s climbing into Ifrit’s lap, settling across his thighs. “You really are out of practice with how air ghouls show they’re interested, huh?”

Ifrit feels a bit dumb as Swiss settles his weight down on him, he can feel the heat coming from Swiss’s cunt again, hovering so precariously close where he’s hard and curled up against his belly, “Oh,” he says, and then he laughs about it, because he can’t believe he’d been blind to it, the first flash of lavender, the suggestive tilt of his mouth, “Now I feel a bit silly,” he manages to say as his hands go to cradle Swiss’s hips.

There’s a sly sort of grin on Swiss’s mouth, the corners curling upwards, the points of his teeth pressing into his lower lip as he presses his knees into the bed for leverage, moving from his perch on Ifrit’s thighs, “You are kind of dumb,” Swiss says as he settles his weight on Ifrit’s lower belly, cunt right over his cock, “But in that really endearing way. Chivalrous and concerned about my wellbeing all while denying yourself something you really wanted.”

Ifrit gasps at the sudden weight on his belly, at Swiss’s heat right where he’s hard and sensitive, “Oh Satan,” he says, digging his fingertips into Swiss’s hips, “Yeah, fuck, baby, I’ll be as dumb as you want me to be if you keep doing what you’re about to do.”

Swiss laughs at him, leaning down to kiss him quiet as he rocks his hips, slow and steady, reaching down between them long enough to spread himself, choking back his own moan when Ifrit’s cock slips right between his folds, hot and hard and right against his clit with each thrust forward.

At some point, Ifrit pulls away from the kiss, tossing his head back as he holds Swiss down against him, digging his heels into the bed and letting himself get lost in the slick heat he’s grinding against—he almost misses it, when Swiss shifts a little bit more, bends over him properly and right against his ear, murmurs, “Wanna put it in me?”

Ifrit moans, loud and unbidden, hips stuttering a bit as he tries not to come, he’s nodding trying to tug Swiss onto his cock, feels it slip down just a bit, nudging against where Swiss is wet and open and warm, and he makes a sort of pained noise when Swiss lifts up so suddenly and they’re not touching anymore.

“Just the tip,” Swiss says, firm, there’s a teasing grin on his face as he says it, hovering over Ifrit, “Do you think you can do that? Only the tip baby, don’t think I can take the whole thing yet,” he lowers his voice, pitches it in a way that ties knots in Ifrit’s stomach. “S’my first time, after all.”

He nods, several times, mouth open in shock—it's not Swiss’s first time, something that he’d made very clear from the beginning, but hell the implications of it, the way Swiss plays into it has Ifrit all frazzled, “Baby,” he says, managing to find his words after a moment, “I’ll take such good care of you. Let you control what you take, how much.”

Swiss makes a happy little trill in the back of his throat, settles back down over Ifrit’s cock, rocks his hips in slow circles for a few moments, “You’ll have to teach me how to take all of you,” he murmurs, still in that faux innocent tone, and this time, when he lifts up, it’s so he can reach down between them, “’m so wet, I can take you without any prep,” he continues, wrapping a hand around Ifrit’s cock with one hand and Ifrit has to watch, eyes trained on the feathers, on the part of his cunt, the dusky pink of his hole as he shifts back on his heels, guiding Ifrit’s cock into him.

Ifrit’s sure he passes out, his grip on Swiss’s hips so tight he’s pretty sure there’ll be bruises there, indents of his fingertips left behind, he’s only coherent enough to not let his claws pop, though he’s sure Swiss would have no problem with that—Swiss's cunt is so tight, so warm, squeezing around him like he’s trying to milk him, like he wants more.

“Oh,” Swiss says, high and breathless, stills and just lets Ifrit stay inside, “You feel so good,” he praises, “So big, s’not that much in me but I can feel you stretching me, gonna take a lot of practice to get you all the way in here.”

Ifrit finds himself purring, something he doesn’t do often, but the rumble starts low in his chest as he slowly but surely loosens his grip on Swiss’s hips, instead, running his palms up Swiss’s sides, “We’ve got time, baby,” he says, hoping his voice is steady, “Can take as long as we need. Can do it as many times as you want. Could spend hours stretching you out for me.”

Swiss smiles down at him, shifts his hips a little bit after another few minutes, clenching around the tip before he grinds backwards, fucking himself on just a couple inches of Ifrit’s cock, moaning low and happily in his throat as he does, “You feel so good,” he finds himself repeating as Ifrit drags him down into a kiss.

They kiss for a while, open mouthed and panting as Swiss works himself on Ifrit, almost as if he were trying to chase his own orgasm and not worry about Ifrit’s--and well, that thought does a lot more to him that he realizes, hazy and hot and cunt drunk as he is.

It’s why when he feels himself nearing the edge, he’s barely able to get out a warning, the slide of Swiss’s cunt against his cock and then the way he sinks the tip into him every few thrusts—he doesn’t know the proper thing to do here, if he should make an effort to not come inside Swiss or if he should—how far does showing ones feathers go when it comes to sex?

He’s thinking, probably way too much about this, so when Swiss sinks down onto the tip of his cock one more time, he’s surprised when Swiss just stays there, his own answering purrs much lower than Ifrit’s rumbling deep in his chest, he grinds a little, another inch slips into him and Swiss clenches around him so suddenly it draws his orgasm out of him with very little warning.

Ifrit grasps at Swiss, only at the last second not pulling him down any further, so instead he curls his upper body upwards, pressing his face into Swiss’s heaving chest, shaking under him as he empties inside Swiss—all the while Swiss is milking him again, clenching rhythmically around him until Ifrit’s making soft little uh, uh, uh noises against Swiss’s skin, shivering at how it starts to tip over into the too much territory.

When he slips out of Swiss, spent and softening, Ifrit barely thinks as he grabs at Swiss’s thighs and hauls him upwards, mouth open, tongue out, hoping to catch the leak of his own come out of Swiss’s cunt before any of it gets on the sheets under them.

Swiss has a hand in his hair again and this time, Ifrit lets Swiss fuck down onto his face, riding his tongue, letting Ifrit lick his own come out of him until he’s arching, his own hand coming down to rub at his clit only a few times before he’s spasming around Ifrit’s tongue, coming in such an explosive manner than Ifrit’s sure he’s going to be tasting him for days now.

Which, good.

Good.

Swiss slips off of him this time, curling on his side and pressing his face into the side of Ifrit’s neck, panting heavily as he does so—Ifrit wraps an arm around Swiss and holds him close, holding him through the aftershocks and murmuring softly into his temple.

When Swiss is only mildly coherent, he lifts his head enough to share a kiss, moans at the taste of himself and Ifrit on the fire ghoul’s tongue, before he pulls away and hides away in Ifrit’s neck again—and while Ifrit wants to ask him if it was good again, the tease on the tip of his tongue, he holds back.

He waits, patiently.

“Disgusting,” Swiss mumbles into Ifrit’s neck this time, slurring just a little, “Absolutely filthy, disgusting ghoul. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Ifrit laughs at his words, can hear the undercurrent of humor, the hint of awe—it's a compliment and he takes it as one, rolling them until he can properly cuddle Swiss, letting his warmth seep into Swiss’s skin as the cold chill of the room starts to settle over them now that they’re basking.

“That tongue thing you do should be illegal,” Swiss mumbles with a shake of his head. “I’m fucking inconsolable, right now.”

Ifrit glances down at the top of Swiss’s head, quirks an eyebrow, “You okay?” he asks, a little hesitant, but mostly amused.

When Swiss lifts his head, he looks exasperated, a little hazy eyed, sated, “You fuck, I want to go again,” he says, “I’m so fucking sloppy right now but I just want more.”

That draws another laugh out of Ifrit, surprised and pleased that he’s good and makes Swiss feel insatiable, “Well, if you’re done being in charge, maybe let me take care of you this time?” he asks, rolling Swiss onto his back, looming over him with a glint in his eyes, “Let me make you feel good.”

Swiss covers his eyes with his forearm, lets Ifrit bully his way between his legs properly until he’s got one of them up over Ifrit’s shoulder his cunt spread and exposed—but he’s grinning, biting his lower lip, “Fuck, yeah, yeah, okay, do your worst. Make me feel good, firebird.”

Ifrit makes good on his word, keeps Swiss in bed for the rest of the day, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of him until they’re both too tired to continue.

#Swiss/Ifrit #the band ghost fic #my writing #this goes about as you'd expect a swiss centered fic by me to be written #please enjoy!

63 notes · View notes

ourfatherwhoartinhell · 29 days

Text

"You're set free..."

Word count | 2653

⚠️ Warnings | Satanic subject matter. TW for guns, murder ghouls, blood, injuries, violence, and death (implied).

Plot Summary: It's initiation day at the Ministry and Terzo is welcoming the newest group and leading them in their first unholy sermon. A Christian rat from a neighbouring church is sent to kill him, but realizes too late that his body guards are not exactly human and they are very protective...

A/N: I thought of this on the train yesterday, I didn't expect it to be so long but I hope it's somewhat enjoyable to read!! 🖤 xo Emery

It was no secret that the Ministry of Ghost was an ambiguous topic for many of the townsfolk. Some often thought of them as a branch of the Church. Some thought of them as a type of religious cemetery – worshipping the dead and helping to guide lost souls to the other side. Some thought they were a group of creative LARP extremists who decided to live out their fantasies in the previously abandoned ancient church that sat on the edge of the town limits.

None of these ideas or thoughts would be considered wrong, for the Ministry is whatever you need it to be. For those who turn to them in search of salvation and redemption will always find it and much more.

The Ministry held a unique standpoint with the neighbouring Churches. For most of the year tensions were low. Discourse and disagreements were quiet, settled through written correspondences. One left the other to their own devices for the most part. However, there was always an uproar of displeasure when the Abbey held their initiation day.

The Clergy would never try to hide when it was; printing a section in the newspapers, and posted dates on flyers spread around the town encouraging all those who wish to be a part of something more to come and explore what they had to offer. For Terzo, it was his favourite day. Always eager to be the first face the new initiates met. His charm and charisma often won over the masses within minutes.

A new initiation day was just around the corner. Terzo was in his office reviewing the applications with great fervor. It was his responsibility to guide these impressionable and naive people towards a better life, one not bound by the strict rules and conditions of the God they thought they knew. Once they swore into the Ministry, Terzo took it upon himself to help make sure they found a job most suited to their interests and abilities.

A knock on his office door was heard before Sister Imperator made her entrance.

“It’s nice to see you finally working and not off galavanting with that ghoul of yours.”

Terzo smiled, his fangs peeking through. “Oh we plan to later, Sister. Thanks for your concern.”

She rolled her eyes and moved to the plush armchair that sat on the opposite side of his large wooden desk.

“How does it look this time? Any concerns?”

“Not at the moment, no. There’s a lot of women of course, which is always a blessing. A few more men this time as well, I’m sure the ghoulettes will be happy to have some fresh meat around here.” He flipped through the pages, making small notes as he went along.

“That’s good. If any of them cause trouble, I suppose the ghouls haven’t had a good hunt for a while. I’m sure some of them would enjoy a chase through the forest after being cooped up in here for so long. They worry me sometimes you know? How feral some of them can be. Are you sure they’re safe to be present during this important occasion?”

Terzo immediately stopped his browsing and set the papers down to look at her. “Sister. I would trust my ghouls with my life. They are fiercely loyal. I will not have you question my ability to control them.”

She just scoffed and rolled her eyes before standing. “I don’t want another incident.”

“You won’t get one. There’s a reason the new summons aren’t allowed near the chapel on initiation days. Being chosen to protect me during a service is a great privilege, and one that has to be earned over time.”

Sister nodded and said no more on the topic as she left to get ready for the night’s festivities.

The Abbey really came to life during this time of year. The autumn leaves of the tree’s turning shades of yellow, golden, and green. The chill in the air set the tone just right. The bare branches poking out along the walkway made the gothic church look picturesque in the moonlight.

The stained glass windows flickering as images of the Emeritus brothers in their Papal attire were lit by the many candles burning inside. All the Siblings of Sin chosen to help with this momentous occasion lined the path, guiding the newcomers to the front doors dressed in their best habits and dark makeup.

Terzo awaited at the top of the front steps, he was always excited to meet new people. It was the one thing he sorely missed about not being on tour anymore. He loved interacting with the crowd and seeing new faces every night. When the new initiates began to walk slowly up the path, he may have let out a giggle of excitement, a smile never leaving his face but remaining his charming self.

To his left and right were his two most protective bodyguards. Standing proud like statues in their old uniforms from Secondo’s days. They didn’t appear in their full ghoulish form, instead they were a normal acceptable human height (although neither Alpha or Omega could glamour themselves to be less than 6’2” without it being quite uncomfortable).

Their piercing violet and ember eyes intensely watched over those entering the sanctuary from behind their black masks. Ensuring the safety of the Siblings, the Clergy and of course, Terzo was their biggest priority and greatest achievement.

The group of newcomers walked up the stairs and past the ghouls, Terzo shaking hands and welcoming each and every one of them with a warm appreciation for coming. Most took a look at the ghouls and thought they were there as a deterrent to ward off unwanted visitors, no more than static, spooky gargoyles.

However, one man in particular stood in front of Alpha and studied him intensely. The ghoul never once directly acknowledging him, still focused on surveying the rest, but letting out a low growl that sounded like crackling embers as his eyes moved slowly scanning the crowd.

The man was in his mid 40s, not the fittest but not heavy. His hair was cut short, the grey streaks becoming prominent around the sides and within his short beard. He was not a large man either, only standing about 5’8”, yet both ghouls sensed he was capable of something sinister.

Saying nothing, he scoffed and walked through the open double doors past the others without acknowledging Terzo in the slightest.

Once the last soul passed through the doors, the Siblings trailed in behind before returning to their previous duties. The two ghouls followed them in, making sure to scan the grounds for threats before locking the doors.

The congregation made their way into the chapel, finding a seat in the pews waiting for the sermon to start. Some spoke softly to their new friends, some were taking in the unconventional decor. Each window showcasing one of the brothers, starting from Papa Nihil whose likeness was displayed closest to the front.

As they faced the stage, behind the altar was the largest window of them all. Elegantly designed in shades of red black and orange, the dark one himself prayed over those before him with arms open wide. The room was lit with a wide arrangement of black and red candles on the most beautiful gothic candle holders. At the back was a grand piano and an assortment of instruments.

The chapel doors were always left open during dark mass to allow any passerby’s to join if they so wished. Today was no exception. Alpha and Omega once again emerged to stand guard at their respective sides of the stage before Terzo appeared and stood before the altar, causing the initiates to rise.

“Oh! Please do sit down, you’ve walked a long way. You all must be very tired. Please sit.” He gestured for his prospects to take a seat with a kind smile.

“The walkway is long, no?”

This earned a quiet chuckle.

“I appreciate you taking the time out of your night to come join us. We are very happy that you are here. Let me just begin by saying, this will be a very different experience than anything you have ever imagined. The doors are always open to leave at any time. This is the idea our Ministry is based on, the ability to make your own decisions. Free will.”

He paused, scanning the crowd.

“Free will is what we teach here. It is what so many of us only think we have. When in all reality, you do not. I know many of you have lost faith in the idea of this so-called ‘God’ and are here looking for answers. I cannot guarantee you answers, but I can guarantee we will help you find whatever it is you seek. All of your truths, questions, and desires can be found within these walls. You need only ask for them.”

It was Omega’s turn to find the suspicious man in the crowd. The grey haired man sat alone in the 3rd pew from the back. Glancing around he looked almost disgusted at the others eagerly listening to Terzo’s speech. To him they looked like hopeless children desperately begging for someone to lead them into the light. Omega’s pointed ear twitched under his hood at the sound of the man’s low scoff and his eyes were drawn immediately to where he sat.

“The Ministry of Ghost has been a lot of things for a lot of people. That’s the beauty of it. We do not operate off a book. There are rules but they are for the safety of those who choose to devote themselves to our cause. They are not there to decide what is right or wrong, they are not there to deny you what you yearn for. Let this be your first day of light. Let this be your first day of being who you were truly meant to be without fear of sin or abandonment. Let this Ministry guide you and let you give in to what you only dreamed was possible.

“This is a chance to be reborn, to give your soul a new life in the light of Lucifer. Lucifer who is not the devil everyone fears. He is the devil who holds your hand through your toughest battles and protects fiercely his loyal companions. He gives you the ability to make things happen without fear of damnation. He will not shun you or cast you aside for your sins, he will embrace and encourage you to take control of your life knowing he is the force that made you be.”

There was nodding amongst the majority as Terzo projected such safety and passion. His willingness to help washing over them like a safety blanket as they started to finally see what they truly wanted. What they truly needed and had been denying themselves for too long.

This was the breaking point for that one gentleman.

“You are demon worshippers. Nothing but a no good satanic cult, and this just proves it!” He stood and yelled, his voice echoing off the chapel walls and up into the tall ceiling.

Normally bodyguards would be at the ready at such a display of aggression, but the two ghouls stood stoic and still, never even flinching. Terzo was also not phased in the slightest as he stepped away from the altar and started speaking to the troubled man directly.

“I can see you are troubled with what we have spoken about here today. It’s okay if you aren’t ready to submit to the will of the dark saviour just yet, he appreciates you–”

“Enough with the lies! Enough with poisoning the minds of these god fearing people!” The man starts to address the crowd. “Can’t you see that this is wrong? How can you all be okay with eternal damnation? An eternity in the fiery pits of Hell. An eternity of service at this… demons will!” He pointed towards Terzo, who had to fight back a laugh.

“I assure you sir, I am no demon. I am no more or less than any of those among us here tonight.”

The gentleman’s anger raged on as he became more unstable. “You are a demon. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. Spewing nothing but deception and sin.” He reached into his pocket and looked around to find all eyes were on him. “I will prove you are not of this Earth. You were created by the devil himself.”

A small gun was drawn and pointed in Terzo’s direction, yet his ghouls once again never moved from their places, although their senses were on high alert. Being ghoul’s they were able to sense and notice things a lot quicker than the average human, but still were waiting for orders to do anything other than stand at Terzo’s side.

“There is no reason for such anger, my son. There’s no need for such hate. Is this what your God has taught you? Unfortunately you are not ready to receive the unholy blessing, the doors that were open to welcome you are now closed.”

Terzo slowly looked over his shoulder to Omega, who used his Quintessence to get into the troubled man's mind and force him to drop the gun, never moving from his position at Terzo’s right hand side. The man's arm was pinned at his side, Omega simply turning his head looking for his next command.

“What…. What trickery is this?!”

“No trickery. You just got it wrong, mio fratello. I am no demon, but there are demons who walk among us. Demons that are willing to do whatever I command without question or hesitation. Demons that are here to serve as our loyal friends and protectors from people like you.”

As Terzo spoke, the two ghouls rose to their full height, their ghoulish form still obstructed but were unnaturally tall. Their eyes glowed aggressively through the eye sockets of their masks, their tails revealed along with their long claws and fangs extended that put vampires to shame.

“You are all going to Hell. They will find out and they will–”

“Who said they would find out?”

Omega’s mental hold on the man ceased and he stumbled forward before turning around to run through the doors of the chapel. Terzo gave a slight nod and both ghouls pounced after him, never once grazing those who were nearby. They knocked the man to the floor with loud growls, their claws eagerly latching onto his back.

“Ah-ah! Alpha, not inside please.”

The ghoul was about to rip into the man's throat before recoiling to look at Terzo and nodding in acknowledgement. Settling for digging his claws further into the naysayers back, hoisting him up by his ribcage and skillfully avoiding puncturing his lung as he carried his bleeding body out the doors.

Omega followed close behind, his quintessence shutting the door so the rest could finish their initiation. In their stead, Chain and Earth stood dutifully.

“I’m sorry you all had to see that. You are not in any danger here. The ghouls are normally very approachable and kind.” Terzo cleared his throat nervously.

“While you live within this Ministry, you will never have to look over your shoulder or run in fear. I hope this unfortunate situation was a testament to that. The ghouls are bound to serve us, and do so quite happily. Please treat them as your friends, turn to them if you have issues. They are not to be feared but make no mistake, they are still born of Hell and deserve to be respected as such. Your false prophet gives you no such protectors. Now come, let this dark blessing be the first actions of true free will.”

Terzo opened his arms to welcome them all. Lining up for their first unholy sacrament as the screams of the true sinner were heard off in the distance.

#the band ghost #ghost band #nameless ghouls #ghost ghouls #papa terzo #ghost terzo #alpha ghoul #omega ghoul #ghost band fic #nameless ghoul fic #ghost ghoul fic

25 notes · View notes

emeritus-fuckers · 6 months

Note

Could you do Hc's of the Ghoulette's comforting a polyamourus person. Love your tumblr! Xx

The Ghoulettes comforting a polyamorous person

Cirrus

Honestly, willing to kick ass of anyone who made zir poor partner upset.

She does not take kindly to anyone bullying her friends, let alone people ze chose to date.

You're getting carried around while she and Cumulus organize a pillow fort for you to cuddle together.

Keeps an arm around you whenever.

Growls and glares at anyone who even looks at you wrong.

Plenty of affection, kisses and nibbles. And nuzzles.

Cumulus

I've said it once before and I'll say it again.

Cumulus, despite how sweet she is, is the fucking scariest when she's angry.

Nobody, and I mean nobody wants to get her mad. And while in most cases it's because they just don't want to do anything wrong to such a lovely person... Some of them have actually witnessed her fury and would so anything to avoid it from happening ever again.

For you, though? She's the kindest, most cuddly Ghoulette ever.

She's gonna spoil you with affection, kisses, cuddles, everything.

Cirrus and her will absolutely not leave your side until you feel better.

She doesn't let anyone bully her partner. And neither does Cirrus, since the two come together. You date one, you date both.

Sunshine

She hates it when her partner is sad.

They should be happy and enjoying their partners! Like her!

You will get lots of kisses and love bites. She’s trying to cheer you up in a…chompy way.

Gets the great idea to pick you up and carry you outside to go explore the garden. Fresh air helps her feel better, maybe it’ll help you too!

If it’s a nice enough day? She’ll grab all the other ghoulettes. You’re all dating after all…and picnics are fun!

Plus that’s more people to come up with ways to make you feel better…though Cumulus is quite amused when you get shoved in her tits.

That usually makes things better.

Aurora

If she notices that you're sad, fae will cuddle up to you with a small pout.

They don't like faer darling being sad! She has to help!

She's still used to the standards of the pits, so by default, fae brings you things she likes.

Her favorite clothes and jewelry so you can have some comfort of her being there eve when she has to leave.

You might have to stop faer from bringing you dead animals (Ghoul are... sorta like cats. In many ways.) and ask her to bring you actual food instead.

They're gonna be extra clingy to you and smother you with kisses and hugs until you feel better.

Might get Swiss to help her out with cheering you up. You're probably dating xem, too.

Mist

Mist is…not the greatest at comfort.

He’ll try! But she needs backup.

You’ll be settled in his lap, right in kissing range as he texts another partner for help.

You can talk about whatever with her as you sit there, ranting if needed or just about something that makes you feel better.

Omega shows up quickly to help, just because he’s with Terzo doesn’t mean he’s not still in the polycule of the pack,

You end up sandwiched between Omega and Mist, with the Water Ghoul sliding you snacks and a plushie of either a comfort character or your favorite animal.

Just don’t mention that she has that stuff.

Cirrus, Cumulus and Aurora written by Nosferatu.

Sunshine and Mist written by Death.

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @thecuriouss @nuntia @dio-niisio @mamacarlyle @mybotanicaldemise @igodownjustlikeholymary @natoncesaid

50 notes · View notes

silverofthunder · 10 months

Text

☆ sorpresa ☆

Terzo (Papa Emeritus III) x GN!Reader

summary: Terzo has a little surprise for your birthday.

content: 1.2k words, gn!reader, romance, fluff (tooth-rotting fluff), Google translated Italian (so mistakes are possible), SFW

Happy birthday to me! Yes, I have a birthday and I’m giving myself a little present. :D I wanted something extra-fluffy so here we go!

It was a late night and you were feeling a bit hungry so you had decided to go get something to eat from the Ministry’s kitchen. You held your phone’s flashlight up so you could see where to go, the sound of your steps echoing in the empty hallways. The kitchen wasn’t that far away but you stopped for a moment on the way, looking through the large windows and admiring the way the moon light illuminated the yard.

When your stomach rumbled, you continued your way to the kitchen, turning right from the next corner. You slowed down your pace as you saw the light shining faintly from the small gap under the door and heard some noices coming from behind it.

It was odd – usually no one was in the kitchen so late – and you felt your heart rate rise as you carefully pushed the door open.

A very loud shriek startled you and it was followed by a flat thump as something white – cream? – dropped onto the floor.

”Dear Satan, tesoro,” Terzo said, muttering then curses in Italian. ”What are you doing here?”

You stood there stunned, staring at Terzo and Copia. Their clothes seemed to be covered in flour and the whole kitchen was kind of a mess.

”I came to get something to eat, I’m hungry,” you answered. ”What are you doing?”

Terzo moved quickly in front of the table, clearly trying to hide something as Copia just shook his head, offering you a small smile.

”Nothing,” Terzo said, trying to keep his cool. ”There’s nothing to see here.”

Your brows quirked up and you smirked. ”Nice try. What are you baking?”

Terzo and Copia shared a brief glance and Copia shrugged.

”It’s a surprise,” Terzo said, leaning against the table.

”Oh?”

”Yes, could you…” Terzo motioned to the door but you ignored it, moving your gaze to Copia.

”Was this his idea?”

”Yes, completely.”

Terzo sent a death glare at his brother and you did you best to hold your laugh. They were so dramatic sometimes.

”Well, I can go if I get something to eat,” you agreed. Terzo still didn’t move, so Copia had to go to grab something for you. You waited as he brought one orange and a few bananas to you. You nodded in thanks and Copia eyed you apologetic.

”Sorry,” he mouthed and you sighed.

”Okay, I’ll go now,” you said, glancing Terzo while you took a few steps back towards the door.

”You look cute, tesoro,” Terzo stated, flashing you a wide smile. Smiling, you shook your head and finally turned and exited the kitchen.

You had a good hunch of what was going on but you had to wait until tomorrow to see if your hunch was a right one.

The next day you woke up to familiar voice singing ’happy birthday’ to you and you smile as you rose to a sitting position on the bed.

Terzo was carrying a rose and cake with a few burning candles on top of it. You had been right that Terzo and Copia had been baking that cake the previous night.

“Buon compleanno, amore mio,” Terzo said, sitting on a bed and placing the cake carefully on his thighs. Then he gave you the rose and with a smile you took it, bringing it close to your nose and breathing in the velvety scent of it.

”So this was the surprise,” you stated, pointing the cake.

”Yes,” Terzo said quietly. ”You had a very bad timing last night.”

You laughed a little. ”Sorry, but I was hungry.”

Smiling Terzo shook his head and lifted the cake up, carefully bringing it closer to you.

”Time to blow the candles and make a wish.”

You leaned a bit closer and blew the candles, then closing your eyes for a moment. You felt lips pressing against your forehead and you hummed happily.

”You’re beautiful,” Terzo whispered, his breath tickling your skin and your eyes fluttered open. When Terzo pulled slightly back, your gazes met and your smile grew wider. The soft look in Terzo’s eyes was something you still wasn’t used to even though you two had been together for a good while.

After all, there had been a time when Terzo was known for his moments of fun and you had thought no one could ever fully capture the man’s heart. But somehow you had done it eventually. Or you hadn’t really done anything else than just been yourself.

A light touch to your hand broke you out of your thoughts.

”Time to taste the cake,” Terzo stated. ”Hopefully it’s good.”

You eyed the cake and it at least looked delicious. Without a thought you dipped you finger into the cream and scooped it as much as you could and brought it to your lips, tasting it. Terzo chuckled eyes wide as you hummed approvingly.

”You could use a spoon,” Terzo remarked, nodding towards the nightstand beside the bed. You had no idea how the spoon had ended up there – it certainly hadn’t been there last night. And as if Terzo had read your mind, he answered the question you hadn’t voiced.

”You are quite a heavy sleeper, so it was easy to sneak in here while you slept.”

Of course.

You reached to take the spoon and didn’t waste time to sink it into the cake, taking a good piece and finally having a taste of it. It was so good.

”Good?” Terzo asked and you nodded, taking another spoonful, now offering it to him. He took it, the mix of surprise and satisfaction reaching his face as the taste hit him.

”Well, for once I succeeded to make something edible,” he joked and you couldn’t help but laugh.

”Thank Copia, he’s probably the reason you didn’t burn the whole kitchen.”

Terzo huffed, scrunching up his face as he pretended to look offended and it only made you laugh harder. You scooped the cream again with your finger and swiped it to Terzo’s nose, still laughing as he took the cake away and moved it onto the nightstand. The rose that had been in your lap, slid onto the sheets as Terzo pushed you gently down so that you were laying on your back. His other hand came to rest on your side while the other settled on your cheek as he pressed himself against you.

You could feel his breath on your face as his lips got closer to your own. You thought he would go for a kiss but right before your lips touched he moved so that he rubbed his cream-covered nose against your cheek, spreading the cream over your skin. The squeal that left you was high pitched and you tried to push Terzo away, with no avail.

He chuckled lightly, finally capturing your lips in a kiss and your hands wrapped around his middle as you melted into it, forgetting the mess on your face. The weight of Terzo felt grounding on top of you, his sweet kisses making your heart flutter in your chest, and you were sure you could burst from the happiness.

When you finally parted, your gazes met and the way Terzo’s mismatched eyes shone soft and bright didn’t leave anything unclear.

”Sei tutto per me,” Terzo whispered, his voice holding so much emotion that it made you tear up. ”Happy birthday, my love.”

You didn’t say anything as you couldn’t trust your voice so you just pulled him back into a kiss, hoping it would tell everything you had no words for.

#terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #ghost band fic #ghost band fanfic #jen writes fics

73 notes · View notes

iamthecomet · 10 months

Note

Okay. Headcanons. Bear with me (I'm really high ily)

(COMING BACK FROM THE FUTURE TO SAY THIS GETS TURNED INTO OMEGA ANGST IDK LMAO))))

Ghouls.

What are they? In this essay,

I hc them as lower-level service creatures when they're Below more than anything else, at least the ones contracted to the family Emeritus. As such, they have no elemental alignment when they're down there. They have more of a...passive compatability, let's say, with every element. Their main alignment is assigned upon summoning. (Multi/hybrid ghouls are a lot more common than a lot of people think, but majority of them can only truly channel one of their elements.) Because of this, no Papa is ever quite sure what he's going to get when he summons a new ghoul.

Except, of course, for his very first summoning.

Every Papa, from the beginning, has first summoned a quintessence ghoul. They act as a metaphysical link between realms, Above and Below. A direct line of communication to Lucifer's court itself, so their Dark Lord can check in and make sure his Word is being spread.

In my head, the breakdown is (summoner->ghoul):

Nihil->Special

Primo->Omega

Secondo->Aether

Terzo->Cowbell

Copia->Aeon

The quintessence ghouls are deeply connected to their summoners, tend to attach themselves at the hip to their respective Papa for the first few months of their time Above. Even when power shifts - like when Omega started reporting to Secondo instead of Primo, or when Aether took over in the middle of all the upheaval - they remain close and loyal to their summoning Papa. Always reporting back with news of goings-on around the abbey, even long after their bodies are entombed.

Omega is, perhaps, the biggest exception to that rule.

When Primo was alive they would eat lunch together every day. Since his death, though, Omega has only been back to see him...well, not enough times, he's sure. Not that the old man is alone, Omega has seen Mountain visit him on a regular basis, but he really should be better about it.

Because look, it's not like Omega had planned to have Terzo get all smitten with him. Being the right hand of the eldest brother Emeritus had come with exposure to the family, though, and Omega knew from the moment he saw Cardinal Terzo that he was done for. It had taken exactly one midnight mass for Terzo to corner him in a confessional booth, to taste sin and humanity on his lips, and, well, that was that.

So, every evening, he visits Terzo in his black marble mausoleum. Accented in gold and rich purple, lit by eternal candlelight courtesy of the fire ghouls. He tells him about his day, reads a book out loud, or sometimes sings. Just breathes a little life into the space. Just for an hour or two, after his shift in the infirmary. He used to stay longer, but he's so tired these days.

He knows why. Knows why there's new streaks of white in his jet black hair, and why his horns are starting to crack. He can feel it in his bones, his vessel starting to give. He's seen it before, of course. Many ghouls before him have passed like this. It just feels too soon, like he should have more time.

Some part of him, though, feels grateful. Especially when he visits Terzo. When he can lay a hand on that glass casket and imagine he's touching his face instead.

Omega knows that he's down there, Below. He's known it for years, since the day Special shoved that needle into his throat. He felt it in his chest, like a little ball of ice caught between the valves of his heart. He knows he's down there, knows he's waiting - or perhaps that's more of a hope - for Omega to join him again. The family Emeritus is well cared for downstairs, kept happy. Omega still gets regular status reports long after Aether and Aeon come to be, and selfishly he hopes that will earn him some sway. That it won't have to be a fight to see Terzo's handsome face again, his sparkling eyes and cheesy grin. That all it'll take is a few choice words for Omega to have him again.

He supposes he'll find out soon enough.

.........anyway this was supposed to be about why I think the ghouls should be able to have sick magickal powers but HAVE THAT I GUESS

MIASMA. MIASMA I LOVE YOU AND YOUR BRAIN. I'm not going to add anything to this because it is beautiful and sad and you all just need to read and appreciate it as it is because AHHHHHHH and WAHHHHHH. Oh, Omega. I'M SO GLAD YOU SHARED THIS WITH ME. but also yes, ghouls should be able to have SICK MAGICKAL POWERS.

#comet canons #nameless ghoul headcanons #ghost headcanons #omega ghoul #angst #miasma ♥

57 notes · View notes

delusionalbitchinthehouse · 6 months

Text

So...I usually ignore canon and pretend every ghouls and Papas are alive and well, but I wanted to write angst, so. Here. I don't know what that is, inspiration striked, I hope it makes sense even if most things are implied instead of flat-out stated. Also there's a quick mention of blood, and well, implied death, so fair warning.

Ifrit snarls and shakes his head, the uneasy feeling that settled in his chest this morning growing unbearably stronger by the minute. He managed to ignore it for the better part of the day, but now it's taking over, pulling him forward.

He's going to see Dew. The urge to check on him, to hold him, to curl around his lithe frame, went from an itch under his skin to an overwhelming need. Ifrit is not sure why, but he trusts his instinct more than anything, especially these days.

Since Terzo's forced retirement, there's an underlaying buzz of- something, a smothering feeling of anxiety in the air, that has everyone on edge, especially ghouls. Omega barely ever leaves Terzo's room, standing guard at the door every nights, even as Terzo begs him not to exhaust himself that way ; Alpha spends long nights drinking with Secondo, both trying to drown their anger in alcohol ; Earth tends to Primo's declining health with even more fervor than before ; Copia tries to fight off guilt by overworking himself ; the ghouls stick to themselves lately, avoid humans when they didn't feel the need before ; the Siblings whisper somberly and walk the hallways fast, eyes on their feet, none of their usual happy chatter to be heard.

Ifrit admits he's been more irritable than usual - something so very strange for him, who's usually bright and easy-going. But something just feels wrong these days. Maybe he just doesn't like change, or maybe it's how abruptly, unfairly, unnecessarily this change came. And now there's rumors. Of many failed attemps to summon a fire ghoul. It's not that surprising ; fire ghouls are notoriously hard to summon, fighting tooth and nail not to get pulled out of the flames they've been forged in. What bothers Ifrit is that they're trying. He's still here, isn't he ? He doesn't mind Copia, could get used to him, maybe even build a friendship with the man - and he definitely can play for him. So why try and summon a replacement ?

Well, it's true he's burnt a fair share of carpets and curtains in his time on earth, but it still feels like a petty reason to replace him. Not that he minds that much. He's just puzzled by this decision. Ifrit is nearly at Dew's door when Zephyr chirps at him from the doorway of their own room, calling for his attention.

"Hey, Fritter."

The air ghoul looks tired, dark rings under their eyes, leaning heavily on their cane. Ifrit's heart aches, and he instinctively steps toward them, gathers them in his arms. Zephyr trills, pressing their face in his chest, tail coming to curl around the fire ghoul's leg.

"Have you seen Pebble, love ?" they ask, voice muffled. "He was supposed to meet me half an hour ago, but he didn't, and he's not answering his phone."

Ifrit hums, chin resting on top of Zephyr's head, their soft hair tickling his face.

"No, but you know how he is these days. He's probably out in the woods, his phone left Satan knows where."

Zephyr nods against him, then pulls away with a smile that doesn't make their eyes twinkle quite like they used to.

"You where going somewhere ?"

"To Dew. Need to hold him. He in his room ?"

Zephyr shrugs.

"I'm not sure. Can I come with you ? I could use some company."

Ifrit takes their hand and presses a quick kiss to their knuckles, tangling their fingers together. They fall into step side by side, ignoring the cloaked figures -probably new initiates, who cares - rounding the corner behind them.

Even years later, Dew will never be able to look at the hallway where his former room used to be. The burns and claw marks on the floor, the memory of anguished screams bouncing off the walls, the blood he'll think he can still smell in the air, it'll all be too much.

But sometimes, Dew will sit in his new room, a flame he shouldn't be able to create flickering to life in his palm, and he'll estinguish it with his tears, mumbling apologies until his throat is raw.

#I made myself tear up with this one #nooo why #yes I know I wrote it #i can still be sad about it #ifrit ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #zephyr ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost

27 notes · View notes

therevelationsmessenger · 6 months

Text

What a life.

Summary: Terzo learns an important lesson after his resurrection

TW : depression , trauma , death ,

AN: Maybe this fanfic will find you in a dark time of your life and remind you to keep going. Youre not alone.

He hasnt been present for the first week or two after the resurrection. Terzo didn’t know why, but maybe , it was because his brain decided to not let him remember, in case there was something deeply traumatic. Fuck, it was traumatic, everything was . but especially the moment he died and his soul left to hell. Especially the betrayal has set deeply into his heart

They betrayed him

Stole his future

His dreams

His lover

Maybe it was that what gave him this deep stab inside his already wounded soul. The people who he thought were his family turning against him, and then that he had to leave people he cared about behind. Terzo didn’t even want to know if there were people who had to watch him die. And if, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. Because the last thing he wanted was to leave a painful gap in these people’s hearts. But he knew the last part has been inevitable. What he also knew was that things weren’t the same anymore. But who would he be if he got mad or upset that he was replaced. Why would he be mad in the first place anyway? If he felt something it was worry, worry about that Copia would be just killed and replaced in the same cruel way. He blamed himself for not being able to atleast get him out of this after he found out what the clergy really thought about their papas. His perspective has been changed by being greeted with death in an non peaceful way

Terzo has been through..a lot. Even in an attempt to somewhat heal the cracks in his soul and the turmoil in his mind. The former Papa woke up to a feeling that something wasn’t right in some way. He was a fool for thinking that maybe death would wipe his mind, leaving a pleasant feeling of not remembering what happened on his mind. But this is not how the brain works. It will just repress until he would be “ready” to handle it. But is anyone ever ready to handle ones trauma at all- It was clear that at some point he would have to work through it. And the time came that day. It has been about a month after his resurrection when something was feeling off.

It began with a phase where he was repulsed, if not defensive even when someone addressed him by his title. He couldn’t stand it. Terzo has been never impolite about it. But it was the expression on his first that implied that he wasn’t to happy about being called Papa anymore. All in all, the pride was gone too. It rather has left a sour taste ,which of course got away over time, in his mouth that he was Papa. Some days he thinks about if accepting the title as Papa opened the door towards his death.

Then the wave hit him. It almost crushed him and it drowned him. Terzo was almost completely silent about it if even, he has disappeared from the ministries daily life in those painful weeks of his life. It wasn’t memories, but it was that pain that was in his heart and has spread into his brain, his eyes, his mouth. Terzo didn’t cry much about it, he rather mourned in silence. Starring at the wall for hours, days on end. He was afraid to sleep because he was afraid to remember. Terzo didn’t like confrontation in the first place anyway but this time he ran from it. He was and is still somewhat running from his past. Terzo didnt get much sleep. He was awake and somewhat almost on time every night he was striken with an existential crisis sort of feeling. He knew if he just bathed himself in that water that broke out of his shattered soul, as in drowning in that pain, he wouldn’t get better. He knew he couldn’t pull himself out, that’s just a rational thinking considering how deep the trauma was. But it hurt too mu h to talk about it. It felt like stabbing at a wound which was already bleeding. Touching a bruise what already hurts. And too, he was overwhelmed with the trauma, he didn’t want to make it worse.

It felt like this would never end . That this is all what was left of the confident and cheerful Terzo. Yes, he had his struggles in the past but he never thought that at some point he would hurt this much. It was like rock bottom had a basement.

One day, he understood. He understood that there was no way out but through it and that for this way through he had to drop most of the beliefs he had until now. And fundamentally, his view on life has been changed. After those weeks of isolation and dread, he was found in the garden, in the library, observing. Noticing details, tracing on textures. Fully in the present. It kept him from spiraling. It kept him from going inside the dark he had somewhat fought himself out of. The darkness jad changed him just as much as his death. Like storms and floods have created new lands and islands, like a volcano outbreak left new fruitful grounds for plants. Like a sunset after a long and dreadful thunderstorm where the birds sang. Peace. He has grown soft, observant and still quiet. His tired eyes held a comforting gaze now.

And on some days he was found in the hammock in the garden , just enjoying the sounds and looks on nature. Every morning on his way to get coffee, he observes the stained glass through the sun shining through it, looking at the paint it leaves on the floor. He realized how colorful spring was and how warm summer evenings really were.

Maybe this calm after the storm changes your view on life as well and reminds you that there will be peace after the most painful thing in your life.

Don’t die yet.

24 notes · View notes

belle--ofthebrawl · 9 months

Text

Technically this is for week 6 of the Ghoulette Appreciation Prompts but. In my defense. I don't control what I want to write about. Right now the spotlight is on the Earth Wives: Terra, Pebble, Ivy aka the previous drummers aka Mountain's adopted moms/aunties/sisters (???) who fucked off from the Ministry to start a lesbian commune in the forest or something. Ivy is trans but it doesn't come up in this ficlet. (@jesusbutbetterrr and everyone else who put the prompts together, thanks!)

Murder wives below the cut.

Ivy is the shyest of the trio. She's as close to vegetarian as a ghoul can get, mostly because even the idea of being seen by a human causes her distress. It's why she didn't last long as a drummer; she was good but the crowds and the bus and the disconnect from her element threw her off so badly that Terzo dismissed her as quickly as he could. The only thing that kept her anxiety at bay was the uniform. Being indistinguishable from the others was her saving grace and she never took off the mask if someone else was present. Something about them knowing what she looked like horrified her in a way she couldn't articulate. In time, with patience from her partners, she grew bold enough to set it aside. But only in their company. Should Mountain bring someone else along, she’ll don her beekeeping hat until she feels ready to remove it.

And though she loves Terra and Pebble dearly, considers them as good as her own heart she still needs isolation at times. They're happy to give her this, because they know she always comes back. Glowing with her own unique brand of magic with her arms wide to catch them as they greet her return.

It's on one of these excursions that she killed her first human.

He was a hunter, out late under the moonlight, stepping carefully through the snow. Gun at the ready, he broke through the treeline to a small clearing where she sat on a stump, admiring the stars as she idly played upon a small harp. She had been alright on drums, but a harp was her instrument of choice and there was hardly need for that in the Ghost project. Had he approached from the back, he would have seen the wrongness of her. Her bovine tail, sweeping the dusty snow away. How her dress gaped unbuttoned at the back, corners falling away to reveal skin as rough as tree bark and a hole where there should not be one. He would have seen the private hollow of her back where no organs nestled because she was a maiden of the forest and had no need of it. He would have seen this and he would have turned and left, for his grandmother had told him of the legends of the woodwife and her timidness.

But he approached from the front and saw none of this. All he saw was a woman alone at night. Bear in mind, he had no ill intentions. This is not that kind of tale. But it still ends in sorrow for him simply because he did not see the warning signs and could not follow the rules. He complimented her playing and startled her so badly, she sent a sharp root up from the earth through his chest, killing him.

Not right away though. He lived long enough to see her approach, weeping and sniffling as she apologized, his blood pumping out over the frozen ground. She could not save him, she explained, but if he had a family then she could make amends to them for his death.

He died telling her about them. His wife's name on his lips and the unnamed child she carried in her belly. Ivy wrapped his body as best she could in her vines and laid him to rest in the clearing. Then she set off to find the man’s family and pay her debt. Every year to this day, they are visited by a benevolent and hooded figure, who makes sure they have enough to eat in the winter and that their fire never goes out. The wife guesses, of course, but keeps her thoughts to herself. Her child is fed and warm and she doesn't have to worry.

Ivy is as close to benevolent as any of them get.

_________________

Now, Terra doesn't so much as hunt but lay in wait. She comes with her warnings, her own rumors and legends and her hunting grounds are strung with barbed wire and bright yellow signs.

CAUTION.

TURN BACK.

DANGER AHEAD.

She didn't put them there but she likes their presence and allows them to stay. Her prey tastes better for having chosen their own death freely with no trickery and this sort of honesty suits Terra. You were warned. This is the consequence.

She likes to call it natural selection.

The forest is different past the warning signs. The undergrowth is crowded and thick with great gnarled roots looping up through the earth and diving back down as the trunks search for sustenance. A hiker might clamber over them carelessly, confident in their map and compass and skills. Following legends of a treasure, hidden deep in a cave perhaps. Perhaps it is even this one, so barely noticeable unless seen from the right angle. The hiker stops and stares for a moment. There could be anything in the darkness. A bear, hungry from winter slumber. A fox, snarling and rabid. Or, if this tourist looks closer, they may fancy a glimmer in the depths as the sun hides behind a cloud. Gold? Jewels? Their fortune, whatever it ends up being. Scoffing at the fear of the locals, the cowardice of a so-called “satanic church” this hiker steps into the cave, boldly going where surely no one has gone before. If something crunches under their foot, it is dismissed as a twig.

But as they go deeper, the “twigs” become more numerous. If the hiker looks down they will see the truth, that they aren’t the first ones in this cave, that many others have sought the same glimmer and all came to the same end but they don't look down. They can't. Too transfixed by the light that seems to grow further and further away with each step.

The dirt of the cave floor dampens. Turns to mud. Liquid drips from the stalactites, gathers in pools and puddles as the hiker travels ever deeper into the darkness and with each step the wet earth clings to their feet. What hasn't been soaked yet is stirred up by their movements, fine particles coating their body, settling into every crevice of skin it can reach. The droplets fall. Splash. Splash. Splashing, steady as a drumbeat as they helplessly wander deeper into the cave. How long have they been there? Why did they go into the cave in the first place? The glimmer is long gone, they are surrounded by the cavern, embraced by it. It's warm and wet and they are so, so tired.

The hiker stumbles, puts out an arm to catch themselves against the wall and to their horror it is like touching flesh. They look down to see their shoes eaten away, dissolving into slimy strips as the digestive acids work diligently to strip the outer armor of the prey. The dust, once ignored, now burns everywhere, from the tips of their fingers to the screaming cilia of the lungs. Terra is as old as the earth itself and she does not hunt like other ghouls.

She can't.

She's just too damn big.

____________

Pebble's the boldest of them and the most mobile. She sprinkles her little traps all over the place, even on Abbey grounds because she believes, like Terra, that those who can't abide the rules deserve what they get. She also likes testing the new crop of recruits every now and then. Enrichment, you know?

So when the Sister comes to Primo, carrying a strange looking mushroom to show him, he admires it with her and quietly mourns the loss of another Sibling. Not for long though. They're told the rules on arrival with the key ones concerning their safety being stay out of the woods at night and don't touch weird plants. It's common sense. Some of the First’s plants have produced crossbreeds that by all rights shouldn't exist. And it's dangerous after dark in any woods. Still, every year, there's someone. This time it's her.

He might sigh and shake his head as she leaves to put it on a shelf to admire. It's too late. The moment she plucked it, spores had been released. She's been inhaling them the whole time she was carrying the mushroom. So he’ll keep an eye on her in the coming days, and take down notes for his own curiosity. Compares them to the other symptoms he’s seen in the past. Sensitivity to light, check. Complaints of headaches, check. Found milling about the halls at night looking for something she can’t articulate, check. He guides her back to her room and she doesn’t complain. Obeys his soft words and lays in her bed like a corpse, staring up at the ceiling with glazed eyes. He always wonders what they see towards the end. None of them have been able to tell him.

She is dead by then, of course, but the mushroom has laced itself into her nervous system. Her body twitches and jerks unnaturally until it’s heaved up, a puppet on strings. Her ankles roll with each unsteady step, the fungal infection lurching her body out of the Ministry to where a small figure crouches in the branches. Watching and waiting, yellow eyes aglow in the darkness and small, clawed hands reaching out to catch the dead woman like a long lost lover before Pebble drags her corpse into the forest to feed.

And then one moonlit night, it happens. He watches from his room as she stumbles in the courtyard, clutching at her head. Tearing off her habit and yanking on her hair until she rips it off her scalp in bloody ribbons. He watches passively as she claws her skin away, baring the bone of her skullcap to the moon, screaming in silent agony. He thinks she’s still alive when her skull splits under her fingers, bone falling away like fragments of an eggshell as the fungus hatches. Pebble always did like to play with her food. The Sister holds a small piece in her haking hand, eyes wide in terror before she’s falling, cracking her head further open on the stone, allowing the stem proper to burst forth, unfurling the cap in one awful motion.

Primo shuts his notebook. Places it on a shelf with the others. Picks up his old rotary phone and murmurs quietly to the Ghoul on the other end. Her family will be notified of an accident, her funeral and burial planned. Closed casket, of course. Pebble’s always been a messy eater. No matter how often he and Terra try, there’s just no taming that one.

#murder ghoulettes #ficlet #i can always queue it up for the proper week but any writing at all at the moment is good writing.#didn't make sense to hide it until February #cw gore

39 notes · View notes

the-hole-in-terzos-shoe · 2 years

Text

When a Paradise is Lost

Papa Emeritus IV x Fem!Reader, mentions of Papa Emeritus III x Fem!Reader (18+ ONLY, MDNI)

TW: this thing is angsty, death, pregnancy, pregnancy loss, grief, and of course smut.

Word Count: 13.4k

Hey Ghesties... It's finally here ❤️ I was hoping to have this out about 2 days ago, but life has inevitably happened. It's been a great escape working on this though. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it! I've written in the past for other fandoms but this is my first big boy story for Ghost, so please feel free to drop constructive criticism if there's any way I can make future stories more immersive. Okay, I leave you alone now, love you, bye! Enjoy 😉

Silence fell over the chapel as the head of the church apathetically entered through the heavy wooden doors. Even Sister Imperator froze mid sentence upon seeing him.

No one, save for a few of his closest ghouls, had seen Copia since that tragic night. The whole abbey felt very melancholy in the days following, and with no Emeritus progeny left, Sister Imperator had no choice but to take over some of Papa's duties, including leading mass, like she was now.

Paint clearly brushed on haphazardly and not doing a great job of hiding the red puffiness around his eyes, he stalked up the main aisle between pews, only stopping when Sister called to him by his nickname, "𝘊?"

Keeping his chin down but moving his eyes to look at her, he replies, "Please continue, Sister," before turning his eyes back towards the floor and moving to his intended destination: the open spot next to you.

Sister Imperator, who rarely ever hesitates, calmly tries to keep going with her lecture on the fight against corruption. A subject that frankly felt out of touch in this moment in the ministry, but it was probably in an attempt to take everyone's mind off of what had happened.

Not wanting to make a spectacle of your Papa seated next to you, you quickly peek at him out of the corner of your eye. He simply stared blankly straight ahead. Perhaps he thought it would look like he was listening, but he was clearly a million miles away. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦? You had only encountered Copia typically in formal settings or on the days that you hung on Terzo's arm while strolling the grand halls of the abbey. Perhaps it was the only open seat he saw, but it seemed more directed than that, to you at least. 𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦?

Lost in your thoughts, you almost don't hear the whisper that squeaks from his sore vocal chords. You turn your attention to him, eyebrows upturned with worry, "yes, Papa?"

"How-" his lip quivers, "h-how did you deal with it? How did you handle... this pain?" Still staring blankly ahead, a tear falls down his cheek.

Instantly searching your pocket for a handkerchief, you now understand what he's come to you for. You've had to admit to yourself that Copia's loss reminded you of your own, bringing up a flood of memories of the days, weeks, months after Terzo was killed. You're unfortunately all too familiar with what the antipope must be feeling after losing his own Prime Mover.

Just days prior, the ministry bubbled with excitement over the prospect of the newest member of the Emeritus bloodline arriving soon. Copia's Prime Mover could be seen wandering the halls, hand on her swollen belly, surrounded by ghouls and handmaidens who had been tasked with protecting her and keeping her as comfortable as possible, respectively. She really was a brilliant woman. Everyone liked her, as it was hard not to find her charming, and she brought out the best in her Papa. It made everyone immensely happy.

Naturally, it hit everyone very hard when news travelled that her labors had turned fatal for both her and the baby.

Now here you are, faced with a grieving man, asking you an unanswerable question. Gently, you bring the handkerchief you'd finally found to his cheek. For a moment, he furrows his brows as if he's angry and doesn't like you so close to him, so you make quick work of touching him up before giving him the only honest answer that comes to your mind: "There's no right way to deal with it. It's just important that you do deal with it; don't push the feelings down, but face them straight on."

He stares blankly again for a long time, before moving his eyes to look at you. His face softens, eyebrows quirking up, as he meets your gaze. "Grazie, Sorella," barely came as a whisper, before he turns his eyes back to the stained glass window at the front of the room.

He sits right there, unmoving, as mass ends and Siblings and ghouls quietly shuffle out, not wanting to disturb their Papa. As the room empties, you're unsure whether you should stay or go; clearly he had been seeking you out and you don't want to abandon him in his time of need. Even though he sits in silence, you can see the storm raging behind his eyes, the hurt in his heart from losing his love.

"Would you like company, Papa?" you gingerly ask.

"Sì. I would like that very much."

And so you sit with him in the chapel in silence as his mind races. It isn't much, but you know how lonely that feeling is, and how sometimes just having someone nearby can help ease that, if only a little.

• • •

There was no feeling in the world like being loved by Terzo.

He could make anyone feel important, as if they were the only one that ever mattered to him, just by talking with him. You reflect on just how important you felt when he lifted that veil from your visage and closed the space between your lips, making you 𝘩𝘪𝘴, forever, in the eyes of Satan, and before the eyes of all members of the ministry piled into the chapel that had started to feel like home. But not as much as 𝘩𝘦 felt like home.

As he twirled you on the dance floor at the reception of your Prime Mover ritual, you'd never felt so safe as you did in his arms. The promise of forever on his lips whispered softly into your ear. But that forever was cut short, sooner than you ever could've imagined.

• • •

A couple days later, as you're messily shuffling through papers that Sister Imperator was breathing down your neck about, a Ghoul sneaks up on you to request your presence in the papal suite. You aren't as familiar with Copia's group of Ghouls as you had been with Terzo's, but you can tell through the dark goggles of his mask that he seems a little nervous. Something must be wrong.

You quickly grab the arm of the Ghoul, muscle memory taking over as you walk hurriedly towards the space that once was so familiar to you. You haven't seen it in years...

You're quickly met with a "Sorella-" after a frantic knock on the door, "are you alright? It was not my intention to worry you." He grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles gently. He looks a lot better than he had in the chapel, but still not fully pieced back together; frankly, he never would be, and you knew this from experience.

He turns to the Ghoul, "Thank you for guiding the Stellina here safely."

"Uhhh..." he mumbles and tenses up, scratching the back of his neck with his finger tips, "It was more like she guided me," he chuckles nervously.

A small smile of realization crosses Copia's face, "Of course she did." It hadn't previously crossed his mind that you once lived here.

The Ghoul turns to leave, as Copia invites you inside. It looks very different than it had all those years ago. It hasn't lost it's elegance since you and Terzo resided here, but all the decor is much more elaborate now.

You chuckle at the memory of Terzo essentially just wanting to throw black silk on everything and calling it a day. "𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦... 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘰 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘢 𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘰." Satanas, even the memory of him could make you blush.

"Everything okie dokie?" Copia snaps you out of your thoughts; you must've been just staring blankly and smiling like an idiot.

"Oh- yes, it just all looks so different. Everything's all moved around." You surely look like a deer caught in headlights.

"Is it to your disliking?" Copia is such a considerate man, almost to a fault; naturally he would be concerned if a guest didn't like his quarters.

"No! No, not at all. It's just..." you look up at the ceiling trying to find the right word so as not to cause him more concern.

"Unfamiliar, sì?"

"Yes, unfamiliar," your eyes drop from the ceiling to finally meet his, full of kindness, but still red and puffy.

"Please, sit," he motions to the sofa that faces the marble fireplace; at least that still looks the same, although you suppose it would be a lot of work to replace all that marble.

Taking a seat beside you, Copia startes to fiddle with the tea glasses on the coffee table in front of you, "Would you like some, topolino?"

You let out a giggle at the nickname, appropriate considering his obsession with his pet rats. "Please, Papa."

"Oh, please, no need to call me Papa; I remember the days when I was just a cardinal to you... but that's enough reminiscing for now; I have a few things I wanted to discuss with you- or uhhh, just say to you really." He hands you a little cup of tea, having added a swirl of honey to it; you aren't sure what kind it was, but it's good. "Let me start by apologizing for pulling you away from your duties in the main offices," he gently squeezes your hand, "I know Seestor already has so much on her plate with everyone in mourning, especially having to see to my tasks, and now I've taken one of her best workers away for a little while. I'm sure she'll be frustrated," he sighs, seemingly in regret; he doesn't want to get you in trouble.

Now it's your turn to squeeze his hand, reassuring him, "It's 𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘦," you start, imitating him, "I can handle her."

He sips his tea and makes eye contact with you. For a moment it looks like tears threaten to build up in his mismatched eyes, the pain of loss clearly still fresh on him. You know how quickly it could bubble up, seemingly out of nowhere, while talking about things somewhat unrelated. But that was the thing about death hitting so close to home: it made everything related to it; every thought was about them, every little thing would remind you of them.

"Thank you..." It comes out as a whisper as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, clearly trying to maintain composure. "I'm just so tired of crying. Sometimes I think I've run out of tears, but then somehow, more come." You sit with him patiently until he's ready to talk again.

In the silence your eyes drift back to the room, scanning over the beaded black lace of the bed canopy, the lush deep blue rug on the floor with metallic gold trim, the collection of art glass vases-

"Sorella." It comes out bluntly. Maybe you hadn't heard him the first time he tried to speak.

"Hm? I'm sorry- um, yes Papa?" you fumble over your words.

The tiniest smile tugs at the corners of his painted lips, "Sorella, I also wanted to thank you."

The deer-caught-in-headlights look is back, "What for?"

He puts his tea cup down and fidgets with his hands, looking down at them. "Throughout the last weeks, you're the only one that's been honest with me. Everyone else-" he chokes up for a moment, but pulls it back together, "everyone else just looks at me with pity, horror in their eyes because they can't imagine it happening to them." He grabs your tea cup, setting it down, and turns to face you, taking both of your hands in his. "That's why I knew I had to seek out someone who would understand, someone who wouldn't cry just because I was, someone who wasn't trying to sympathise with this... unimaginable feeling. It had to be real. It had to be you, Stellina."

You're taken aback. You had no idea how much your words would have affected him when you spoke them in the chapel. Of course, you had no one to turn to when you had been in Copia's shoes. At the time that the Emeritus brothers were killed, Primo's Prime Mover had long since passed, and Secondo's, stubborn as he was, ran off out of anger. You were the only connection left to their bloodline, and you hadn't even had the chance to provide Terzo with an hier. In that way, Copia's experience differs from yours; at least he has someone to talk to who understands the grief.

He continues, "I know we never had any deep conversation before they took Terzo away from you, and I've done horribly at keeping touch with you since becoming Papa; that wasn't fair to you, cara, I'm sure it only made you feel more isolated; that's why I appreciate your, ahhh... willingness to accept me. And my grief. I know it must be a lot-"

"Copia," you whisper, stopping him from rambling, "it's okay." You cup his cheek in your hand. "Or 𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘦, rather," you give him a warm smile, and get a laugh in return. "Now, was that all you brought me down here for?"

"Um, sì," he replies with a cringe, realizing maybe he shouldn't have pulled you away from work just to talk.

"Ahhh, using your Papa power just to get what you want, huh? Some things never change," you laugh as well.

For the first time in a long time, Copia calls you by your name, grabbing your hand again, "Please stay."

• • •

Although it was now late in the afternoon, you're back in the office to at least sort out some papers, getting your things in order to work hard tomorrow. You'll have a lot to catch up on since you'd practically taken the whole day off.

You don't regret it though. You knew Copia needed to get some things off his chest, so you simply sat with him again, but this time you talked--a lot. Everything from reflecting on old times, listening as you shared little secrets about Terzo that no one knew, laughing about goofy memories or things you never knew you had in common, all the way to literally being a shoulder to cry on. Papa still has a lot of feelings to feel and you're just trying to be there for him; based on his little speech earlier, he needs it.

"And where have you been sneaking off to?"

Imperator. It comes across cold and unforgiving.

"I'm sorry, Sister Imperator, it won't happen again."

"Hm. You say that now, but I remember how you are when you start seeing somebody. You'll be my best worker, until you find a distraction."

"Sister, please. You know I apologized for that." She was referring to the times when you started seeing Terzo, and again when you briefly were seeing someone to try to get over losing him. "You know how grateful I am that you let me have this job back." After you were no longer a Prime Mover, the clergy didn't know what to do with you. They weren't sure if you would get angry like Secondo's lady, and they needed Copia's transition to power to be as smooth as possible.

"Well perhaps if you kept your head in your paperwork, we wouldn't be struggling as much as we are to keep up the pace of things around here."

"Sister. You know very well why we're struggling. Papa losing his Prime Mover hasn't been easy on anyone in the ministry, least of all him. He's broken! At least I'm trying to help put the pieces back together!" You may have kind of yelled that last part, but damn is this woman hard to put up with.

"What was that? How would you know how he feels?" Her voice is softer than before with a touch of concern.

"Now you know where I was all day. He summoned me to his chambers."

"Oh. Well. I suppose if Cardi- I mean, Papa wants to see you, then I suppose I can't argue with our figure head." The only thing in the world she has a soft spot for is Copia; she'll protect him however she can.

As you dismiss yourself from the offices, Imperator stands there, frozen to the spot. That same part of her that wants to protect him from the feelings he's having also wants to protect him from you. She worries what you could do to usurp the power she has not only over the ministry, but over her Copia as well. (It's called enmeshment babes ��✨)

• • •

Your meetings with Copia continue on for several weeks, often with the rollercoaster of emotions that he feels each time you met: release of sadness, laughter, comfortable silence, caring. You really start to care for him not only as the Papa of this ministry but as a person. It kind of makes you feel silly for not getting to know him better before, maybe then you would've had a friend after Terzo left you.

The thought made your eyes wander over to the bed, again. It often caught your attention; it was only of the only things that was still in the same place you and your beloved had yours.

"𝘈𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦..."

"𝘠𝘦𝘴?" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘰'𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴.

𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘥, 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘬 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴. 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘣𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴.

"𝘐𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘰 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦... 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘰, 𝘴𝘪?"

"𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦," 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.

"Non ti lascerò mai. Nemmeno lo stesso Lucifero potrebbe tenermi lontano da te." 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

It was a promise he couldn't keep.

"Cara?"

Once again, Copia pulls you from your thoughts. You were unaware tears had welled up in your eyes as you stared at the bed, lost in a different time. As you turn to face him, your tearducts betray you and tears spill down your cheeks.

"Oh, no no no no no.... Stellina, you're always the strong one," he says pulling you to him, your forehead cradling against his neck and hands finding his chest. "What's gotten to you, piccolina?"

His endless stream of pet names did attempt to soothe you, but in the end your feelings won. In that moment, you realize it had been a long time since you'd let it all out, which is exactly what you'd been encouraging him to do. Funny how you didn't take your own advice. You harshly sob into his chest for a few minutes, hands balling his shirt up into fists. He feels solid like a brick wall for you, supporting you, letting you beat your fists against him in frustration until you calm down, although it's more that you tired out honestly.

One arm around your waist and the other hand cradling the back of your head, he holds you tightly to him. He wants to offer you the same comfort and support you offer him, he's just perhaps more 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘯 about it.

"Hey Copia?" you prompt, drying the last of your tears and sniffling lightly.

"Yes?" he counters by using your name as well.

"Let's go see Primo's garden."

"Okie dokie, Sorella."

Sun on your face is just what you need, and to get out of that room. The gardens haven't been the same since Primo himself no longer tended to them, but they are still beautiful nonetheless, and everyone still calls it Primo's garden; it feels wrong to call it anything else.

Walking right into the greenery, running your fingers gently along the flowers, Copia starts after you, "You know Primo wouldn't want you walking among the plants..."

"Hmmm... Little do you know," you smile over your shoulder at the man, "I used to work in the gardens, and Primo taught me all the best hiding spots." You wink, before running off quickly.

"Hey! Sorella!!!" Papa hollers after you, picking up his pace, but it's nothing to match your knowledge of the twists and turns of the foliage. He probably never would've found you if it wasn't for your uncontrollable laughter. By the time he turns the corner to the little clearing in the tall bushes, you're already laid back on the soft grass, habit pulled off, and shoes kicked aside. You reach your hand up for his, pulling him down roughly. "You're stronger than you look, Sorella," he chuckles as he settles on his back in the grass next to you.

You lie back in silence for a while, just enjoying the sun, the breeze, the sounds of nature. But it can't last forever.

"Mia cara, you never answered my question."

"Hm? What question?" you play dumb.

"Cara... What have you been teaching me about talking about our feelings, facing them head on? Do those rules not apply to you?" Copia turns on his side to face you, "What was bothering il mio topolino back there, huh?"

"It was, uhhh..." you search for the right words; you don't find them, "It was stupid. I'm okay now, Papa."

"If stupidity made you cry like that, I'm afraid you'd be crying all the time around me. Now," he places his fingers on your chin, making you look him in the eyes, "what was it, tesoro?"

"You're not stupid, Papa."

He addresses you bluntly by your name, letting you know he's serious, "Stop avoiding the question. And I know you're only calling me Papa to distract me from getting my answer." He keeps a straight face for a long moment, then sticks out his tongue at you, breaking his stern look. It's his way of letting you know that you aren't really in trouble, but he does expect you to be honest with him.

"It was the bed."

"Hm?

"The bed."

"Che cosa? Do you not like it?"

"No, it's, uh," you knit your eyebrows together in frustration, "it's a lovely bed, but it's where Terzo and I had ours. It's one of the only things in your chambers that's in the same spot as it was before."

"That is all, mia cara?"

"Well it reminds me of him."

"Do you not want to be reminded of him?"

"Not in that way, no. Those memories are so... intimate, and they're the hardest ones to take." You feel vulnerable telling Copia this, but it had been bugging you for weeks.

"Well then... We move the bed, sì? Problem solved."

"Copia... I don't want you to rearrange your room on account of me," you reach up, resting your hand on his arm, which was languidly lying across your waist.

"It'll probably be saving me the trouble of some of those memories in the future, no?" he gives you a bittersweet smile, "Come now, we have some work to do!" He sits up, grabbing your shoes before running off. Now it's your turn to chase him...

Back in his chambers, your shoes wait neatly by the door as Copia returns from the small kitchen with two glasses of ice water. He has a smug grin on his face as he practically makes you drink from the glass. "I believe you left your habit in the gardens, Sorella."

Damn it. "Ah, fuck it. Sister Imperator already wants to kill me for missing so much work. I'm sure the habit is only a minor infraction."

"Sì, and you look bellissima without it."

That comment makes you blush a little. He'd never commented on your appearance before, but luckily your cheeks were already flush from running after him.

Copia shrugs off his vest, rolling up the sleeves and unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt. You have to admit that it looks good on him. Now you're blushing about commenting on his appearance, albeit internally.

"What do you think of putting it here, hm?" He gestures to the nook in the wall that had a huge dresser and his art glass vases.

You sip your water, "Hmmm??"

"The bed. We move it here, sì?"

"You meant right now?"

"Of course, I meant right now. I don't want this to cause you another minute of worry, Stellina."

Next thing you know, you're gently wrapping art glass vases and placing them into a box. It is only when the sound of furniture scraping against the floor becomes obvious that several Ghouls come rushing to the door, worry written on their faces even behind their masks.

"Ah! Perfetto! Extra hands to help!" Copia invites the Ghouls in to help move the massive bed and dresser, which they handle in no time thanks to their otherworldly strength.

As you unwrap the last of the art glass to place back on top of the dresser, now in its new place, Copia remarks, "Sembra fantastico, dolcezza!"

"Someone's in a good mood," you turn to look over your shoulder at him.

"Sì, it felt good doing something other than sitting around here. Not that I don't like sitting with you," he takes your hand, thumbs rubbing your knuckles.

"No, you're right," you smile up at him, "it did feel good. Change of pace."

"Sì," is all he says before a wicked grin spreads across his lips. Suddenly, he wraps his arms around your waist, scooping you up, and throwing you over his shoulder.

"PAPA!!! Put me down!"

"I can't, not yet, Sorella! The floor would be too hard!"

"Too hard for what?!"

"For this!" He grabs your waist and pushes you high into the air, letting you come down hard on the bed.

"You-" you grumble at him, straightening out your skirt and fixing your hair

"Who, me?" he asks bewildered.

"Yes, you! You little shit!"

He tuts his tongue at you, "Now is that any way to speak to your Papa? Especially one who just moved half his room to make you comfortable?" He sheds the look of disapproval, and sits next to you, taking your hand, "Really, mia cara, is this better for you?"

His soft voice coaxes you to recline back on his pillows, observing the room only half seriously, "Yes, Copia, it's perfect... Thank you." And you really mean it, because you know that you don't have to sleep in here, he does, but it still means enough to him to move the bed so your thoughts won't haunt you anymore.

• • •

As the months went on, Copia started working again. It was good to see him leading mass again. At first the topics were perhaps more basic, helping him dip his toes in the water, so to speak; it was still so easy to strike a chord that would make him spiral. But he was happy to be back in his office working on translations with his cute little assistant. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵?? 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘐𝘚 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦, 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘐'𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘓𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦...

He had even started working with the Ghouls making music again. You didn't know exactly what went into all that, but you have to imagine he has to take that slow as well. For now, you've heard they're just rehearsing old songs to get back into the swing of things. They even invited a few (which of course turned into more than a few) Siblings of Sin to a short performance, the Ghouls insisting it would help their Papa to be in front of a crowd again.

"What did you think of our little show, mia cara?" Copia shyly asks you, pulling you out of the crowd of Siblings; his small voice such a sharp contrast to what you'd just seen up on that stage.

"Papa, I think you know what everyone thinks of your performance, everyone is absolutely gushing seeing you reach your full potential again."

"Ah, sì, but my timing was a little late a few times, and I forgot a couple of the lyrics... Besides, I wasn't concerned with what everyone else thinks. I want to know what 𝘺𝘰𝘶 think, Stellina."

"Papa Emeritus?" a Sister nervously approaches the two of you.

"Yes, my child?" he turns to them, always charismatic after a performance.

"Um, uh," she holds out one of the CDs from the Ghost Project, "will you sign this?"

"Of course, dolcezza," he chuckled, delighted over the attention. You have a sneaking suspicion that the Ghouls told everyone to really play it up and act like adoring fans rather than people who get to see Papa regularly. The girl waves her friends over and a small group of Siblings and Ghouls all come over to shower their Papa with praises. As he's drawn further into conversation with them, he turns over his shoulder to look at you, almost as if asking for approval, as he did not want to disappoint you by leaving you alone.

"Go!" you mouth, shooing him away with your hands, "Go have fun! Go see your fans!" You had to yell the last part as he slowly got pulled away from you.

They don't mean any harm; they just want to let Papa know how much they adore him, but you did get a weird pang in your stomach when he called that other Sister "dolcezza," one of the many names he used for you. You quickly shake off the feeling and try to enjoy the atmosphere, it isn't every day you got to see Papa and the Ghouls perform.

After being dragged to a wild after party by the Ghouls, you quietly walk back to your quarters. You had left a little early, knowing the party would rage into the night, but you need to say least 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵 to work tomorrow. Plus you don't think you could take the sight of Papa with that girl anymore--the same one he called dolcezza--sitting in his lap. You knew it had been several months, and he would start to seek comfort in others eventually, but still, something about it felt wrong. Of course, you never mean to judge your Papa, it just feels too soon and you worry if he's ready, if his wounds are healed enough.

As you dig in your pocket for the key to your room, you feel hands grab at your waist from behind. Gasping, you drop your keys before being pinned to the door by the tall slender form behind you. "Going to bed so soon, dolcezza?" 𝘏𝘮𝘱𝘩. 𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦.

"Yes, Papa. Some of us have work tomorrow," you threw him a small smile over your shoulder.

"Ahhh, but how often do we get to party like this, mia cara? Especially as of late." He reaches down to get your keys, and you turn, leaning your back against the door.

"You really came all the way down here, just to drag me back to the party?"

"No, Sorella. I came to party with you," he leaned his against the door, hand next to your head, trapping you to the spot.

"Papa, I think you're drunk."

"I might be, Sorella," he giggles, clearly still riding the high from performing again. Terzo used to act similar after a performance with the inflated ego, knowing everyone wanted him.

"Besides, I thought you would have other 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘺 this evening..."

"Che cosa? The sorella from the party? Don't tell me my little topolino is jealous..."

𝘑𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘕𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭... 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦? 𝘞𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴? 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵... 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵?

"Piccolina, your silence says more than you know," he coos, lifting your chin with his fingers.

"I'm not jealous, Copia," you squirm beneath him, looking down at the floor, "Our relationship isn't like that." Technically that is the truth. Yes, he was handsy with you, but he was handsy with all the Siblings. You'd never thought about him in that way, and now, as the thoughts crept up now, it felt wrong. You're supposed to be his friend, his confidant.

Copia seems to sober up for a minute, inhaling sharply before dryly stating, "I suppose you are right, Sorella."

"Goodnight, Papa."

"Goodnight, amore," he replied, kissing your knuckles before letting you retreat to your room, ever the gentleman.

All you could think before crashing hard into your pillow was 𝘈𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦? 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦.

• • •

A few days passed and you hadn't heard anything from Copia, you hadn't been called to his suite or anything. You were certain he likely had another Sibling warming his bed, the thought making you sick. You feel guilty. Guilty for feeling possessive of your Papa; he isn't yours, he could belong to anyone he wanted now. Not enough time had passed since he belonged to another, the most spectacular woman he could've asked for. You feel like you're trying to replace her, and it isn't your intention. She was amazing and always deserved to have a place in Copia's heart. And then there was Terzo... You feel like your were betraying him. Every memory you make with Copia pushes Terzo further and further from your mind. That also makes you feel guilty. You don't ever want to forget him. It feels like you're trying to replace him, too, and he deserves to live on in your heart, just as Copia's Prime Mover will for him.

Without even realizing, your feet wander quickly through the halls of the ministry; you hadn't even bothered to put shoes on. Your feet pad against the floor hard as you rushed in what direction you aren't even sure. Tears fill your eyes making everything blurry. You're sure someone probably could follow your trail by the amount of tears you left on the cold marble floor. Before you know it your feet stop, looking up through weary eyes, you make out the silhouette of Copia's chamber door. 𝘜𝘨𝘩, 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦? 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦?

You knock before you can even stop yourself.

The whole door shifts slightly, it was cracked open, and you hadn't noticed. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘢. 𝘏𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘺.

Worried, you pull the door open gently, not sure what you'll find behind the heavy oak.

And there he is... leaning against the doorway between the little kitchen and rest of the space, taking the breath right from your lungs.

You can barely say his name, "Terzo?"

His eyes gently lock with yours, and he moves towards you, suave as always.

"Teh... Terzo? Wh-what.. whatareyoudoinghere..."

It makes no sense. You're clearly in Copia's room, the bed in its new place and all.

"𝘈𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦..." his arm effortlessly gliding around your waist, and his other hand brushing your cheek. "What makes you cry like this? I'll put an end to it right this minute."

You're not even able to speak as you lean into his chest sobbing. His scent envelops you, bringing back a flood of memories.

"Bella, you must calm down, you'll worry yourself sick, mia cara. Try to breathe." He holds you tightly to him, white-gloved fingers laced in your hair. "Shhh, shhh..." he coos, humming to you like a mother would to her child.

After a while of trying to dry your sniffles and tears, Terzo leads you across the room to sit at the foot of the bed with you.

"Terzo," you whine, "what's going on?"

"You always were un uccellino curioso. Do not worry piccolina, you will get your answers in time," he reassures you, placing a kiss on top of your head.

"I just- I've missed you so much!" Tears threaten to spill once again. Immediately they're met with a white glove wiping them away.

"I know, mia cara, I've missed you too, così tanto. But I'm here now, and it breaks me to see il mio cuore hurt the way she does." He gently guides your chin towards him, softly kissing your lips. That familiar spark flies through you; electricity seemingly coursing through his veins, you can feel it on your skin with every little touch.

Absentmindedly you open your mouth, ready to receive anything he has to offer, and his tongue never did disappoint. Even after all these years your body still aches for him, made obvious as you hastily works on the buttons of his shirt. Terzo's hand, now bare, creeps under the hem of your skirt, "They put my Prime Mover back in her old habits, huh? This simply won't do..." He tugs your skirt up around your waist and quickly makes work of pulling the veil from your hair. Almost like muscle memory, you lift your arms for him to pull the simple black fabric from your form in one fluid motion. "Quello è meglio. Satana, quanto mi è mancato il tuo dolce corpo," he mumbles, lips immediately attaching to your collar bone.

This draws a sigh from you as you run your fingers through his hair. He throws his shirt off his shoulders, discarding it on the floor, and your fingertips greedily take in the feeling of his bare skin.

With a hand behind your head and a strong arm around your hips, he moves you further up the bed, then crashes his weight down on top of you. His hands roam your body, grabbing at your waist, your panties, your breasts, your hair, until one of his hands find yours, interlocking your fingers. His lips work on the sensitive skin at your neck, drawing his name accompanied with several moans and whines from you.

"Oh, please Terzo... Don't ever stop," you let out, nails scratching at his back and scalp.

"Forever and ever, sì? I'll make love to you 'til the end of time, amore." With one hand holding yours above your head, his other scoops up your thigh, hooking your leg on his hip. You feel his hardness grind down on your sex, layers of fabric trapped between you, and you both hiss with pleasure.

You want to yell at him so badly, demand he take you right then and there, but the words wouldn't come. What if you lost him again? Instead it's best to savor the time you have.

You reach your hand between your bellies, nails lightly dragging from the waistline of his pants up to his belly button, a move that drives him crazy every time. As he practically attacks your mouth with his, your hand finds his erection and starts to palm at it. Within seconds, your lover is becoming putty in your hands, and as you unzip the annoying fabric to take his hot girth in your hands, an indecipherable stream of Italian flows from his vocal chords, something about a sex goddess handcrafted by the Dark Lord himself.

His hands glide along your hips, fingers hooking into your panties as he rips them right off of you. "Please, cara," he begs, kicking his pants off into the floor, "mia cara dolce seduttrice, please let me take you."

You feel his cock, slick with precum, pressing against your folds; he looks up at you panting, eyes blown wide with lust, "Per favore." You have mercy on him, allowing him to enter you, the stretch drawing loud groans from both of you. It feels like two strong magnets had finally collided, and once he was seated comfortably inside you, he looks down at you, ever-so-gently pushing a strand of hair behind your ear before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. His hand rests on the side of your neck, thumb stroking your cheek, never breaking the kiss as he starts to roll his hips. You let out a light moan, threading your hands in that beautiful raven black hair.

He only broke this kiss when neither of you could hold your breath any longer, but he didn't stray far, as he nipped at your jaw. "Va bene per te piccola?"

Terzo continued to rock his hips at a deadly pace, making you want more and more of him, "Sì, Papa, molto bene." His heart absolutely beamed when you spoke Italian to him, only pushing him to snap his hips faster.

He always knew exactly how to please you, his throbbing member scraping against that sweet spot inside you over and over again. It doesn't take long after his fingers find that little bundle of nerves at your core that you fall over the edge; the only word on your lips is his name.

"Brava ragazza, una brava ragazza per tuo Papa," his praises making your heart swell for him.

"Ti amo, Papa," you mutter, bones turned to mush as he continues to careen against that soft spot inside you, "Ti amo, Terzo."

"Ti amo, il mio amore... Forever," he pants hotly, right in your ear, "Tesoro, I don't think I can hold on any longer." He groans loudly.

Without hesitation, you grant him permission, practically begging him to finish inside you. His hips halt for a moment before evenly rocking them back and forth, letting out a needy whine, riding out his orgasm.

He relaxes on top of you, laying his head on your chest and lacing his fingers with yours.

"Amore," Terzo starts, looking up at you through his lashes.

"Hm?" you ask, a silly grin on your face as you twirl a strand of his soft hair in your fingers.

"I know you won't forget me."

You knit your eyebrows together, confusion washing over you.

"You shouldn't be afraid to be with him, I know you'll never forget me. Remember, tesoro, I told you not even Lucifer himself could keep me from you. I live on in here," he says, putting his hand over your heart.

"Terzo- I-" you feel the lump forming in your throat, making it hard to speak.

"You need each other. Maybe more than two people have 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 needed one another. He teeters on the edge of madness, and I'm afraid without you, it would topple the scales. Take care of him, soothe his soul, just as you did with me." He leans up leaving kisses on your forehead and eyes.

When your eyes flutter open again, you're outside. You look around taking in Primo's garden.

"Come, bella," Terzo stands next you offering you hand to help you up, "let's play a game like we used to."

He gives you a shit eating grin before running off, into the maze of bushes and shrubs. Both laughing hysterically, you chase after him, following the well known paths. As he turns a corner, you lose sight of him, but you won't give up so easily as you press on to catch up with him. Trailing just behind him, you reach out only brushing his waist for a moment before he peels away from you again. He turns the corner to your old hiding spot with you hot on his trail.

As you reach the clearing, he's nowhere to be seen. You realize you're the only one still laughing. Just like that, he was gone.

You drop to your knees, that empty feeling creeping in all too quickly...

• • •

"Tesoro?" You hear Copia call your name, "mia cara, are you there?"

You crack your eyes open slowly, "Co- Copia?" you breathe out, voice raspy.

"Hi! Hey. There she is," he attempts to sound cheery but clearly he is worried out of his mind. He cups your cheeks and places a hand to your forehead, making sure you didn't have a fever.

"Wh-where am I?" you glance around at the all white everything. The bed you're on is cozy but certainly not homey.

"The infirmary, cara," he chuckles nervously, "You gave us quite the fright."

"What happened?"

He doesn't want to worry you with the details, but he knows you won't rest until you have answers. "Well the morning after the party, you didn't show up to breakfast, which isn't like you, Stellina, so a few Ghouls and I looked all over for you. You weren't in your room and it wasn't until someone-" he stopped suddenly, clearly choking up.

"Someone heard you screaming in the gardens," a cold voice supplied. You turn slowly to see Sister Imperator standing opposite Copia.

"I was in the gardens?" you ask, turning back to Copia.

"Sì... In that little clearing you took me to. You, uhhh, you were screaming for Terzo. Cara, I've never seen anything like it. It was like you were in a ritual trance, I didn't know you'd practiced communing with the Dark Lord before."

"I, uhhh, I haven't."

You and Copia both look equally shocked, but not wanting you to be stressed, he insists on you relaxing the rest of the afternoon. And of course, despite the nurses working in the care ward, Copia stays right by your side, sending various Ghouls to get whatever you need. It really is probably overkill, you are just a little dehydrated, after all.

Not needing to stay in the infirmary for more than a day, Copia has you moved back to your room, insisting you need bed rest and lots of fluids. "Take the day off, amore, the week if you need it, it's my turn to handle Seestor after all," he chuckles, helping you into bed. He looks around to make sure you have snack, water, medicine; you can tell he's getting ready to return to his duties.

"Papa," you reach out, grabbing a couple of his fingers.

"Sì, piccolina?"

"Stay with me? Just for a little while," your eyes practically beg him. You'd been craving some proper alone time with your Papa.

His face softens and he begins to sit down on the edge of the bed, but you pull him towards you, urging him to lie down with you. He obliges, facing you, draping an arm over your waist, and you do the same to him.

"Copia..." you whisper to him, not even really sure what you wanted to talk about.

"Yes, dolcezza?"

That triggered it, and before you could stop yourself you blurted out, "Did you sleep with that girl?"

"La ragazza from the party? No, Stellina," his lips pull slightly into a frown, accentuated by his face paint.

"Oh... I was hoping it went well," you lie.

"Topolino," his tone disappointed, "do not start being dishonest with me now, after all these months."

𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘯𝘪𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭.

"I'm sorry, Papa, I just-" you look up at him, making him drop the stern look he had, "I don't want to hold you back."

"Amore, you could never hold me back, you do nothing but support me, lifting me up when I need it most." His free hand finds yours to draw shapes on the back of your hand with his thumb. You look down at his hand, then carefully move to lace your fingers with his. Feeling the warmth of his hand through his leather glove, the butterflies swarm in your stomach; a feeling you hadn't felt in a long time, but unmistakable nonetheless.

Copia lets out a small sigh, silence washing over you both as your minds race; thoughts ranging from "I like this, I want this, I want 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦" to "What if this ruins what we have?" to "What if I'm not ready to move on?"

Always knowing the exact right thing to do, Copia leans forward, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead, and it immediately quieted down the noisy chatter happening in there.

"Get some rest, mia dolce Sorella," he commands, sitting up next to you. "We still have much to discuss, but don't you worry your pretty little head over it." He accents his point by gently scratching at the crown of your head. You knew aside from your newly forming feelings, Copia still wanted to know what the hell happened to you the other night.

"Yes, Papa. Now, you should go back to your office before Imperator blows a fuse," you lean up too kiss his cheek then whisper, "or I may keep you here all to myself..."

If it weren't for his paint, you were fairly sure his cheeks beamed bright red.

• • •

Days go by before you see him again. Pulled in every possible direction, he simply has too much on his plate between rehearsals and the mountain of work that had backed up over months of not being in the office. Plus Sister Imperator fired his assistant and reassigned her to your office... Seems like a strange decision considering how much pressure Papa is under.

When your lunch break rolls around, you decide to order take out, ordering a little extra for Copia, knowing he often works through meals when he gets his mind set on something.

Lightly tapping on his door, food cartons in tow, your hear him grumble something before yelling, "Come in!" in a not so nice tone.

Pushing the door open, you let him know, "I'm sorry, Papa, if it's a bad time, I can just drop this off and leave."

"Cazzo, Satanas, Sorella. I'm sorry I thought you were- ...someone else." You could tell he meant Sister Imperator. "Please, make yourself comfortable wherever you can."

You scan the room to see piles of books and papers and files and folders everywhere on nearly every surface. Even one half of the couch had a few stacks of documents. "Goodness, Copia, are they trying to work you to death?!"

"I suppose so, Stellina," he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well..." you start, needing a minute to think, "okay, here's the plan: you take a break, we sit down and eat, and after we get our bellies full, I'll stay here and help you sort through some of this."

"Mia cara, you don't have to do that." You could read the appreciation on his face though as he twirled a small strand of your hair between his fingers; he really needs the help.

"I don't have to, but I want to. You don't deserve to be stuck in this office burning the candle at both ends."

His hand moves to your cheek, "Grazie, cara, you always know exactly what I need."

Forcing him to sit back in his chair, you take a long pause to stand behind him and rub his shoulders, causing him to let out a nearly inappropriate groan. At the sound of your giggle, he questions you jokingly, "You think your Papa's tension and pain are funny, Sorella? Watch yourself... I may have to punish you." Then it's his turn to giggle as your cheeks heat up at that remark.

Out of the corner of your eye, something catches your attention swishing past his office door, but you don't let on to it, not wanting to worry him further. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘺 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘵, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬.

You push the thought from your mind and instead move to distract yourself and Copia with food. And boy is it delicious! It's just what you both need.

As promised, after lunch, you hop right to work helping him organize ALLLLL the papers, which ends with you sitting on the floor, sorting things into neat piles.

"Sorella, I never would've thought to sort things out in this way, but it makes so much sense." He saunters over to you, placing a hand on top of your head, like a pet.

"Maybe now you'll be able to chip away at all this a little faster," you smile up at the man towering over you.

"Sister!" Imperator's voice boomed from Copia's office door. "Your lunch ended hours ago! We have a lot of work to get done before Yule next week!"

"She 𝘪𝘴 working, Seestor," Papa defends you.

"What? By playing in the floor like some toddler? C, don't let this girl distract you."

You can tell he wants to remark on the informality of her using his nickname.

"I'll have you know, Sister Imperator," his tone stiffer than normal as he used her whole name, "She's implementing the organizational system used in your offices. The one she came up with, and I think it will be a great help to me, especially seeing as I lack an assistant now. I believe it's in the ministry's best interest if their 𝘗𝘢𝘱𝘢 is able to work as efficiently as possible."

𝘖𝘰𝘰𝘩! 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘫𝘢𝘣 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦! You can't help but silently root him on.

"Unless, Seestor, there is some reason I'm being held up in every way possible?" his eyes lock on hers as he stands protectively in front of you, still in your spot on the floor.

"What are you implying, Copia?" she practically spits back at him; he's onto her, and it's making her nervous.

"I'm not implying anything. It's the hellsent truth. We have more work than ever after I was out for so long, and I am getting less and less help. It keeps me right where you want me: in this office, closed off from the ones I'm 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 to be leading, offering guidance to."

You had never really heard him speak this way. He's suddenly almost... Cold? Confident in a different kind of way. You can't quite place your finger on it, you just hope you're never on the receiving end of it.

Imperator opened her mouth to speak but was quickly cut off. "Sorella in here will be my new assistant. She's supported me more than anyone since the passing of my Prime Mover, and I'll not have her disrespected anymore. Not by going back to that office, and certainly no longer by you."

Your eyes go wide at the last part, along with Sister Imperator's. "I understand, Papa. As you wish," was all she replied before leaving you both.

Closing the door and pressing his back to it, Copia chuckles nervously, "I can't believe I just spoke to her like that." His eyes lingered on the floor before tracing their way up your form. "But it needed to be said..."

"Papa... I," you let out a shaky breath; you are so proud of him and honored by the way he defended and complimented you, but also made nervous by the whole situation. "Papa, I hope you know I didn't start doing all this just to get a promotion."

Copia's face broke a smile with breathy laughter as he got on his knees in front of you, looking you straight in the eyes. "Of course you didn't, topolino," he presses a kiss to your cheek. "But you take care of me better than anyone I know. I'll be stronger with you by my side."

If your chest wasn't overflowing with emotions and your eyes weren't filled with tears, you would've taken him right there on the floor, dealing with damn papers later. But for now, you just let him hold you as your eyes wander over him, his torso, his shoulders, those wild mismatched eyes you could never get used to. Not with Terzo, not with him.

Delicately, like you would break him, your hand snakes up to his hair, combing back the gray locks on his temples. Gently, you close the small space between you, finally taking comfort in those lips over the course of several long, chaste-for-the-most-part kisses.

You both pull away before things can progress any further; at this point, you were used to waiting. Eyes still closed, you hear Copia call your name. "Seestor reminded me... Would you like to accompany me to the Yule Ball, amore?"

You can't help but laugh; after that whole heated thing, all he could think about was spending Yule with you. "I'd love to, tesoro."

Once again blushing under his paint at you finally using a pet name on him, in Italian no less, he wraps you in his arms, nuzzling his nose to yours, "Okie dokie."

• • •

Before the night of the big dance, you spent the evening pampering yourself. You drew a nice bath, did a face mask, styled your hair just the way you like, put on a little makeup.

You were just stepping into your gown as your hear rapping at your door. It's a beautiful deep purple gown made for you in your Prime Mover days, and boy did it make you and Terzo look like a pair! He adored purple; you weren't sure exactly the last time you'd worn it, but you were sure it ended up on the floor quickly after Terzo got you alone.

"Just a minute!" You quickly slide the gown up and into place at your waist then sliding your arms through the proper holes. Clutching the dress, hanging loose, against your chest, you scurry over to your door to see who was waiting.

"Buona sera, amore mio."

None other than Copia, of course, but he isn't Copia this evening; tonight, he is Papa Emeritus IV. He steps into your small quarters, looking far too regal to being here. Dressed in full papal regalia, the silky blue robes and bejeweled mitre making him look larger than life.

"Oh, Papa... You look so nice." You're practically breath-taken.

"Nonsense. I pale in comparison to you, Stellina," he steps towards you, noticing your hand still holding your gown in place. "May I?" A hand on your hip urges you to turn, other hand carefully sliding the gown's zipper up your spine. He stands behind you in your dusty little mirror, his ceremonial gloves, beautifully adorned with golden bones, rest on your hips with his fingertips tickling at the top curves of your thighs.

"Assolutamente sorprendente..." It comes as a whisper before he presses a kiss to your shoulder. You like the portrait painted on the looking glass in front of you. If there was one thing you could change, it would be that you wished you had a blue gown to match his vestments; though you suppose your violet fabric against his blue silk is a reminder that you've belonged to two great men.

"Copia... Do you think they'll ever let us be together?" The question falls out of you suddenly.

"Who?? Who wouldn't let us be together, mia cara?" He whips you around to face him as if you were in trouble for asking that question, but his face reads nothing but concern.

"Well, I guess Sister Imperator mainly... And then there's the clergy. Are they going to let you take a second Prime Mover, especially one who belonged to another Papa?? And then there's the ministry... your followers, your fans. What if they get jealous that someone took their Papa? What if they don't like me because I took someone else's shot at being the PM when I already had my turn? What if-"

Copia cuts you off, your name leaving his lips like he's just been knocked in the chest. "You've thought about being my Prime Mover?"

That's when you realize you said the quiet part out loud. 𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘔𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘥𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘺. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵? "I know this is all new for us, Cope, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't want more."

"Mia bella ragazza, it seems you want 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵," he says, attempting to be suave, but it does pull a laugh from you regardless. He cups your cheek in his gloved hand "Dagli tempo, amore mio, avrai tutto quello che vuoi e anche di più." His hands thread through your hair, pulling you into a fiery kiss that simply wasn't long enough. "Speaking of time, I must be going, Sorella. The clergy will be expecting me. I'll leave Aether with you, sì? No one as bellissima as you should enter the Ball empty handed. I wouldn't want someone to think they could take you from me..."

He presses one more kiss to your lips before turning to exit, leaving you reeling at his words.

• • •

The Yule Ball is buzzing already. Siblings and Ghouls pour into the ballroom, already tipsy on eggnog and spiked hot chocolate, chatting and laughing, and a few even dancing to the light music that played as you all await Papa Emeritus IV. You were grateful to have Aether with you, giving you company in the flood of people. In fact he's oddly tame considering the amount of attention some of his fellow Ghouls are gathering; he must be on orders from Copia to be on his best behavior.

The energy is simply electric as everyone hardly pays attention to Sister Imperator's opening speech. It had been a rough year for everyone; they all need the release the Yule celebration can offer.

When Papa steps onto the stage in his ceremonial garb, the whole place erupts with applause, shouts, and a few lewd whistles. You see that familiar look of pride well up in him; not pride for himself, no, pride for the ministry, the church, everyone who worked so hard to spread the Olde One's message. "Good evening, my children. Multa Yule beneficia omnibus. How are we tonight, eh?"

He absolutely dazzles the crowd, everyone hanging on his words of praise for their devotion and support this year. He chokes up a bit mentioning the trials and tribulations he and everyone had faced this year, you knew he would, but a few Ghouls cheering their love for their Papa perked him back up and he made it through. Keeping his sermon brief, Copia just wants everyone to have a good time; they all deserve it.

As Papa moves onto the ballroom floor, he's swarmed by ministry members all wanting to dance with him, but he always handles a crowd well. Offering several of them a quick spin and kiss on the cheek, they swoon over him, and this time, it didn't make you the slightest bit jealous; you know who he has eyes for. A few couples even brought their kiddos over to meet Papa, watching him quickly bless a couple of babies then hold a young girl on his hip, "dancing" with her made your heart feel like it may burst. He doesn't realize how adorable he is with that sweet smile on his lips as he greets his congregation.

A tap on the shoulder catches your attention. Aether holds out his hand, clearly an offering to dance with him, perhaps trying to distract you from staring at Copia. You giggle at him before taking his hand. He wasn't the best dancer, but rocking back and forth, slowly spinning did allow you to get a chance to look the room over. The event committee did a great job with this one: handcrafted swags made from evergreen, holly leaves, and berries hung between each stained glass window, with golden bells cascading out from the base of each one; spreads of candles everywhere in black, dark green, and gold; they had even adorned the Renaissance-style painted ceiling with twinkling lights, a beautiful representation of the Winter solstice night sky.

"Ahem, Aether," Copia's voice lightly commands over your shoulder, "may I cut in?"

"Of course, boss," Aether quickly straightens up, releasing you from his grip as he wipes his palms against his vest.

Copia lets out a chuckle as his hands comes to rest on your waist. "Sorella," he whispers just behind your ear, as Aether disappears into the crowd, "I have a very important question for you."

"Yes, Papa?"

His hand glides around the small of your back as he dramatically walks around to meet your eyes, hand now gripping your other hip. He looks just as stunning as he had in your room an hour ago, but it's only enhanced by the ambient lighting, the gemstones and metals on his mitre and gloves absolutely sparkling.

He bows deeply, lowering his head until he's eye-level with your waist. This catches the attention of everyone nearby, as Papa bows for no one, especially in his formal wear. Looking up at you as if you're the only thing in the room that exists, he asks very simply, "May I have this dance?"

It's a very public display that lets everyone know his intentions. You could only imagine that Imperator must be fuming, but your attention is fully ensnared by the man in front of you. "Of course, Papa, it would be an honor."

He slowly moves back up, eyes clearly drinking in the curves of your body, "It is I who should be honored, principessa."

𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦. 𝘚𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘭𝘺.

Suddenly, his arm snakes around your midsection and pulls you tight against him, a twinkle in his eyes as you start dancing together. This dance is much more energetic than it had been with Aether; Copia wastes no time in taking you out on the floor, twirling you in his arms, leading you gracefully. You remember being impressed with his moves back when he was a Cardinal in the way he would enthusiastically move against whomever he may have been courting at the time; no one had expected such a performance from the shy awkward man in his cassock and biretta, and you certainly never thought you'd get to experience it firsthand.

In one final move, he spins you away from him, arms outstretched between you, before he stops and cracks a grin at you before breaking into a few of his stage moves, "ass wobbling" as he calls it. It elicits a great deal of laughter from you, then he saunters back over to you, scooping you back into a kiss, like you were in a movie or something. You get a peek at the chandelier above his head, spotting the mistletoe hanging there. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘥. You could almost roll your eyes at how corny he could be, 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵, but it's hard to think of anything when his lips are against yours.

It's only when a group of Copia's closest Ghouls start hooting and hollering that you recall that you are in fact surrounded by most of the ministry. As Papa stands you back up and turns to hush his Ghouls, your face colors bright red, realizing almost everyone was watching that little display. You notice a few envious eyes cutting daggers at you.

"Come, mia cara," the man offers his hand to you once again, this time for an escape. As you rush from the room, embarrassment is quickly replaced with excitement. You and Copia run hand in hand through the halls of the ministry, laughing at what you aren't really sure, but you don't stop until you get outside to the walkway overlooking the courtyard.

The cloister is always beautiful at night, the gargoyle

s casting shadows that looked like demons, and the tall arches allowing a perfect view of the stars, but keeping one dry if it happened to be raining. It also always had a nice breeze, which on a night like this, the longest night of the year, chilled you right to the bone.

"Here, principessa, take this," Copia says, unclipping the top layer of his vestments.

"Oh, no no no, I couldn't take that. It would be inappropriate," you argue.

"Stellina, it is only cloth, and I won't have you freezing your plump little ass off out here." His word is final as he drapes the beautifully embroidered chasuble over your shoulders.

𝘖𝘩, 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘴𝘴?

After clipping up the chasuble, Copia wraps his arms around you for an added layer of warmth and leans you against the waist-high wall behind you.

"Mia cara, you look beautiful against the stars like this." He brushes a piece of hair behind your ear, seemingly one of his favorite things to do to you.

"You look very handsome yourself, Papa," you admire him, running your hands over the blue silk that now runs up to his shoulders, no longer covered by the chasuble.

"You still call me Papa after all this time," he points out.

"Well, I didn't want anyone to think I was getting special treatment..." You practically stare a hole in his chest.

"Stellina," he lifts your chin to meet his gaze, "I don't think you were fooling anyone."

Your cheeks start to flush, whether from the cold or the intimacy of the moment you aren't sure.

"You know, Copia..." Tears start to well up in your eyes at that... dream? hallucination? memory? You weren't sure what to call it. "Terzo... He, uhhh..."

"Tesoro, if you don't want to do this because of him... Well, I'll know I've missed out, but I'll understand. I could never dream of replacing him; his shoes are much too big too fill."

"No, Copia!" you whine, tucking yourself into his chest, "That's not what I was going to say." You pause for a moment, collecting yourself. "Terzo came to me that night I went missing. I don't know how to explain it... It felt so real. But he told me that we needed each other, and that I should take care of you."

"I know, amore, I had a similar dream that night. It was perhaps 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 than yours however. I saw my dear Prime Mover, holding our child in her arms, and she reassured me that they were being taken care of. They had all of the opulence and prosperity that Satan promises his followers. I just 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 that I couldn't give it to them-" His eyes turn dark, and for the first time, you understand what Terzo may have meant about Copia going mad.

You gently reach up, gracing your fingertips over Copia's lips and chin, bringing him back to reality. Your face soft but concerned as you search for the soul behind those mismatched eyes.

As if you're some sort of grounding force, he stiffens up, inhaling sharply as he looks down at you; a tear rolls down his cheek as he chokes out your name followed by, "I do need you. I need you so much, cara." His lips hit you like a wave, crashing down on you wherever he can make contact: lips, cheeks, nose, jaw.

With both of yours and his emotions running high, it's easy for the sadness and grief to cradle itself away inside, while new feelings make their way to the surface. His tongue urgently finds it's way into your mouth, as your fingers card into his ashy brown locks, knocking the mitre to the ground. It's heady and desperate, but it's exactly what you both need.

As he nips at your neck, tongue tracing various shapes over the sensitive skin there, his strong arms lift you to sit on the cloister wall, drawing a gasp from you. As if your arms didn't have enough of a hold on him, your legs locked around his hips, pressing him close to you--but not close enough. It felt like you could fall over that wall with him and dive head-first into pleasure; it's exhilarating.

One hand roughly rips open the snaps on the chasuble that had been keeping you warm, leaving it cascading down the wall. Certainly preoccupied as his lips search yours again, you aren't even sure how he got the blue underlayer of his vestments off, but it left him in a stunning little combo: black jeans, black skirt with billowing sleeves, and a tight little vest. How that man wore so many clothes you didn't understand, but you didn't care, as long as they came off.

His gloved hands scratched up your thighs, pushing the hem of your gown up. With your arms already locked around his shoulders, he asks, "Ready, baby?" before sliding your weight off the wall and onto his waist before he quickly carries you in the direction of his chambers.

It's nothing short of miraculous that you make it back to the room without bumping into anything or knocking any expensive sculptures over, seeing how Copia was pretty much navigating blind; his lips hardly leaving yours for a second.

Inside the cozy suite you'd come to know so well, even growing to like it the way Copia had it decorated, he flops you both down on the little sofa you'd had so many chats on. Hands on his chest and legs on either side of him, you shift to get more comfortable when you find his sex with yours. You both groan against each other's mouths, desire growing to become unbearable. Your fingers work his shirt and his vest open as your hips gently grind down, searching for that sweet sensation again.

Papa's mouth leaves you with a pop as he gasps for air; his eyes are dark again, but this time for an entirely different reason: you. Having you is the only thought on his mind as his hands fumble for the zipper on your back. His lust-blown eyes devouring each new inch of skin exposed to him as your dress hits the floor.

"Satanas, mia bella, your Papa Terzo was a lucky man," he mumbles as he presses a string of kisses to the tops of your breasts. "You could make the Dark Lord himself blush in this little number."

You cradle him against your chest as his flattery pulls a giggle from you, "Keep talking like that and you'll get lucky too, Papa."

He groans happily at the sound of that, his hands cupping at your lacy bra.

"Oh, so now you like being called Papa?"

"When you are dressed like this, sì, call me whatever you like, mia principessa." He looks up at you, strands of hair falling out of place, chest exposed as his shirt falls off his shoulders, his lust evident against his jeans; he looks like debauchery personified.

"What if I call you mine, huh?" Your boldness surprises you, but you roll with it.

"Hmmm... Okie dokie. Papa is all yours... to do with as it pleases you, topolino." Now, that last part makes you blush, but you don't hesitate to start loosening the laces on his pants. With the laces undone, you untuck the tail of his shirt from the tight demin, allowing his erection to spring free.

Your fingers gently grace over the shaft, eliciting a shaky breath from Copia. You both look at each other like nervous teenagers for a moment; it has been a while for you both. He leans forward and delicately kisses you, and it was the push you needed to fall over the edge with him. Your hand grips him with more confidence, bobbing up and down, while his moans are muffled against your lips.

His nimble fingers drift under the edge of your panties, teasing at the lace on your hip before gliding to circle the damp cloth over your clit. You match his noises, a blissful harmony filling the room. The sensation is only heightened when his fingers push the lace aside to slide into your slick folds. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴? You pull away from his lips to let out a whine as he teases your entrance, and a hiss escapes Copia as you tighten your grip on his dripping member.

"Copia," you gasp, "Papa, I need you."

"Cara-"

"Right now, Papa, I need you right now," you demand, head thrown back as you grind against his fingers. "And please don't say 'Okie dokie.'"

"You took the words out of my mouth, bella," he gives a half-smug half-goofy smile while he pulls your hips closer to him.

Letting him pull your panties aside, hooking them on that plump ass he remarked on earlier, you line up over him, impatiently taking him. As the tip enters you with that delicious pop, you both attempt not to buck your hips. You both fail. His arm snakes around your waist, urging you down onto him. It really is a desperate sight; you hadn't even properly gotten either of your clothes off, yet you still seek to become one.

Slowly seating yourself fully on his length, Copia calls out your name, "Ti amo, tesoro, così tanto, da così tanto tempo... Ti amo tanto." It came like one of his chants during Mass, like it was well practiced, like he couldn't wait to recite it.

You cup his cheeks, holding the the last bit of resolve he has, "I love you, too, Copia." Your hands slide down to his shoulders which help stabilize your movements on top of him. Instantly his hips move up into yours, matching your rhythm in a delightful way.

The antipope's hands reach up, sliding your bra straps off your shoulders to free your breasts, and his mouth quickly starts to work on your budding nipples while one of his hands reunites with the bud between your thighs. "Voglio adorarti, mia dea. Ti farò piacere. Prendi il mio seme come offerta."

That stream of Italian has your head soaring through the clouds; the hand holding a death grip in his hair might be the only thing that keeps you from derailing. How he could manage to press every button you had all at the same time is beyond you, all you know is that it has you barreling towards your orgasm faster than anything you've ever experienced.

Suddenly, Copia pushes you off of him, your back landing on the sofa. He hungrily pulls your panties off and lines back up with you, filling you again in an instant. Instinctively, you want to wrap your legs on his hips, but Papa has other plans. He hooks his hands behind your knees, holding them straight up and squeezing your thighs together as he relentlessly pounds into you. This has you screaming his name within seconds as the head of his cock drags over that sweet spot inside you over and over and over again.

The feeling is so overwhelming, you can't stop the wave of your release from crashing over you, "Oh, Satanas, Copia, I'm coming!" Your eyebrows contort and your jaw relaxes while your thighs shake violently beneath him. The sensation causes his hips to stutter, and as he finds a shallow but steady movement, you know he's reached his end as well.

A warm sensation fills you as he gives you his offering, just as he'd promised moments ago.

His hips continue to buck, riding you both through your climaxes. He lets your legs go weak, gently letting them down to either side of him as his movements come to a halt. He finally shrugs his shirt and vest from his arms then carefully pulls out to lay next to you on the scant little couch, but he holds on tight so you don't fall off. Propped up on one arm, his eyes observe all of your details: the flush of your cheeks, the marks he left on your neck and collarbone, the way your chest rises and falls as you try to calm your breathing. Everything about you looks perfect in his opinion.

Copia grabs your bra, which has just fallen around your waist at this point, turning it so the fastening is in the front, and he makes quick work of discarding it. "We did this a little out of or order, sì?" he chuckles.

"I wouldn't have had it any other way, amore mio," you lean up to kiss his nose.

"No one has been blessed more than me this Yule, Stellina. I'm grateful for it, and for you." Before his blush becomes too evident, he leaves you, only for a moment to retire to the big bathroom connected to his bedroom. He returns wearing a big soft robe, with one just like it thrown over his shoulder for you, as well as a warm washcloth.

Soft as kisses, he smooths over all of your love bites, calming the red wounds; he then wipes away any proof of your love making before bundling you up for a long night of cuddles and sweet nothings. Maybe even another round... Or three.

393 notes · View notes