#papa emeritus x f!reader

[molly-ghuleh]

Camellia: Copia x f!reader - Chapter 7

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

Summary: You slowly chip away at Elizabeth's diary. Copia takes you for a little break to clear your head.

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: Hey hi hello!! Thank you once again for your incredible patience with these chapters. You all are so very close to my heart and I cherish every single like/reblog/comment (I cry when people say nice things to me, help). That said... let me know your thoughts!!

Warnings: possible mention of anxiety (very brief), Sister Imperator being shady, mentions of ritual sex (no graphic depictions)

AO3 / 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

You live in limbo for a full week. “A few hours” of working in Copia’s office had turned into a full day and well into the night. Then one day turned to two, and two to four, and then you found yourself in his office without him asking, simply because it would save time. 

The atmosphere between you and Copia during these days is oddly comfortable. You’ve always preferred to work alone, feeling that any noise or talking would be a distraction. Your translations would always turn out more eloquent and faithful to the original text when you could place yourself into the author’s headspace, and that requires near silence or, at most, the ambience of the room around you. 

With Copia, though, you find that you’re able to focus even when there is noise or talking in the corridor outside his office. Part of you wants to believe that it’s just the change of scenery. His office is opulent, as the rest of the Abbey, but understated. The wall to the left of the door is lined with bookshelves filled with books and little relics or knick knacks. The desk you work at, which sits nestled in the back corner of the room, had been piled with papers and books which you’d helped him organize (a task which he insists he owes you a favor for), but now it houses your own materials. His desk is still fairly cluttered but since you’ve started spending the days in his company, he’s made a significant dent in the work. 

He’d said that having a study buddy helps him stay on task. You’ve always thought you were the opposite, but perhaps you’d never found the right person. It’s as if Copia radiates this aura of calm and focus that you can inhale by just sitting in the same room as him. Your notes are clearer, you can decode letters faster, the Latin flows from your pen smoother. 

That’s not to say you always stay on task. 

There have been times when a little observation or comment turns to an hour-long conversation, or an invitation to the refectory for lunch turns into a walk through the gardens to take advantage of the warming weather. Or a little glance his way turns into watching him work, memorizing the pattern of his pen’s dragging across a signature line. Watching the little cowlick he tries so desperately to keep in place as it falls back over his forehead. Spotting a tiny smudge in his black paints and remembering how his face had looked, soaked in rain and bare and flushed at your touch. 

Yes, you have been living in limbo between being Copia’s study buddy and being something more. 

You know, he’d said. You must.

You do know. If the past week has shown you anything, it’s that you know, more surely than you’d expected to, that you’re dangerously close to falling in love with him and that every day you tip further and further over that cliff. The abyss below is deep and if you fall you have no chance of climbing back out. 

Copia… Copia is already plummeting. There’s a pleasant heaviness that settles in his chest at the thought of you, increased tenfold at the sight of you. Just existing in the same space as you makes him content with how his life has been, like every moment he’d spent alone only led him to you. Oh, yes, Copia is hurtling downwards at terminal velocity and it’s a long way down.

Somewhere within the last few minutes, Copia noticed you’ve stopped writing. Your eyes stare blankly at the letter grid, one hand pointing to keep track and the other holding your pen a few inches off the notebook page. You must be lost in thought. 

“Tesoro?” Copia calls gently. A small smile plays on his lips. He’d gone for the informal paints today after staying in his office far too late to complete some work the previous night, and not at all because you’d accidentally let slip that you like his freckles during a particularly sunny walk. “Where did you go just then?” 

At the sound of his voice, your eyes flick up towards where he sits at his desk, watching you. You blink. “Mars, I think,” you say with a little laugh. “I’m stuck on this one phrase.” 

Copia rises from his desk chair, stretching his arms above his head, and you try not to stare at the little sliver of skin exposed when his shirt rides up. “Would you like another pair of eyes on it?” He asks. 

“Here,” you nod, pointing at the line in your notebook where you’d written the deciphered phrase in Latin. “Collige virgo rosas. Literally, ‘pick, girl, the roses’.”

“Ah, so… what is that phrase? ‘Stop and smell the roses’, yes?” 

“Yes, exactly,” you say. “But in the context of this, it doesn’t make sense. She’s not talking about something good.” 

Copia’s brows furrow as he rounds your desk and comes to stand beside your chair. He leans over to read what you’ve deciphered in your notebook. The words of Latin slide effortlessly off his tongue as he reads your work out loud, and not for the first time, you’re reminded of how smart he really is. Not that you ever doubted it—he’s proven time and time again through answering your questions about the Ministry’s history that he’s Papa for a reason—but it’s a quiet intelligence. The two of you could be joking about something entirely inconsequential and then suddenly he’s telling you about the theistic anti-religious undertones of the works of Marcus Aurelius and somehow he makes the transition make sense. 

“Oh! I see,” Copia says with a jaunty little snap of his fingers. “Here. Further down, read this part.” 

Your eyes follow his gloved finger down the page of your notebook to a passage you don’t quite remember deciphering. Using the letter grid is mindless now. After spending a week doing nothing but mapping and mapping and mapping every single letter in Elizabeth’s diary, you’ve learned how to let your mind drift just enough that the translation is still accurate but your mind is elsewhere. 

In horto moribundo, elige rosas sanas, Elizabeth had written. 

In a dying garden, choose healthy roses.  

You continue to read the rest of the passage, and yes, now that first idiom makes more sense. It’s oddly… optimistic, for Elizabeth. 

“Huh,” you say dumbly, suddenly all too aware of how close Copia is standing. “I don’t remember writing that at all.” 

“Because you were on Mars,” Copia laughs. “Come back down to Earth and we can go for a walk, si? You seem to be, eh… zoning out.”

You smile at him. His eyes are already on yours. From this close you remember that, on top of his intelligence and kindness and wit and charm and empathy, he’s devastatingly handsome. And then you remember how you feel about this man, and how this man feels about you, and your heart kicks up a gear. There haven’t been any romantic declarations or passionate kisses, but every time you pass the romance section of the Library on your way to return Elizabeth’s diary to its lockbox at the end of the night, you’re tempted to borrow a book or two, just for the catharsis of it. 

Carefully, you close the diary and wrap it in its linen to protect it while you’re away. Copia moves back to his desk and fishes his key out of the top drawer. “Let’s go to the front gardens today, cara mia,” he says.

“How come?” You ask as he opens his office door for you. 

He shrugs. “It’s something different. And the sun is over there right now.”

He doesn’t mention the conversation he’d had with Terzo the night before. How he’d approached his brother, the master of romantic gestures and wooing, and asked how exactly he might tell someone he has feelings for them in a way that won’t leave anything in question. He doesn’t mention how Terzo had (embarrassingly) made him roleplay how his confession might go. He also doesn’t mention that, at Terzo’s suggestion, he’d gone to Primo to ask where the prettiest places in the Abbey gardens are, and Primo had told him that the front gardens are full of Japanese camellia bushes on their last leg of blooming for the Spring season. Copia doesn’t mention how, after that, Primo had lent him a well-loved copy of Linguaggio dei Fiori. 

When you’re finished organizing your materials, Copia leads you out his office door with a warm hand placed on the small of your back. The touch, little as it is, makes you shiver. 

“I haven’t been to this side of the Abbey,” you tell him. “Not since I arrived.” 

Copia watches you as you speak. “The front of the Abbey is very, eh, overlooked. Most people prefer the back gardens because they are bigger. There is more to look at.”

He seems nervous, you notice. You can hear the creaking of his leather gloves as he wrings his hands behind his back. And despite his calm facade, his voice sounds… different. Not weaker, but less sure. 

“Copia,” you say quietly. You always say his name with such softness and it makes his heart pound. “Are you alright?” 

He smiles at you but it isn’t very believable. “Oh, yes, tesoro, I’m alright,” he says too quickly. 

You tilt your head. 

“Well…” 

You can read him like a book, he knows. Fitting—you can read almost any book in the Abbey’s library, no matter the language, and you choose to read him. And he can read you, too. Like scholars with their manuscripts. Cheesy, he thinks. I’ve been talking to Terzo too much. 

“It’s alright,” you say after a pause. “We can just walk, if you’d like. But you have my ear if you need it, or if you need some time—” 

“No, no, I…” Copia gently takes your hand as if you’d drift off if he didn’t. “Please, walk with me. There are just… things on my mind, which I need to sort out.”

You squeeze his hand, relieved. “Okay. I’m with you.” 

Sathanas. You’re with him. Copia breathes in and out again, shakily. You’re with him, it’s just you. Nothing to be nervous about. 

It’s just… you. 

You, who he’s about to bare his soul to. You who came into his life and who will stay for such a short time. All he has is a few months with you, and he’s been kicking himself for a week, trying to tell you that he can’t bear to waste any more time, not when you’re both well aware of the feelings you each hold. He can’t go another hour without knowing how it feels for you to know. He knows you know, of course, but you don’t know—

The hallway seems too long. Copia’s working himself into a spiral. His brain keeps telling him you’re as good as gone already. That if he tells you how he feels, you’ll reject him and he’ll lose you. But he’s going to lose you anyway, and he needs to know if he can have these few months with you or no time at all. 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, he thinks. And sorry I could not travel both…

The two of you come to the front door of the Abbey. The old wood creaks when you push it open with your free hand, your other still holding Copia’s. You emerge outside and you hold the door open for him to follow after you. He gives you a small smile, not entirely present. Perhaps on Mars, visiting where you’d been.

The front of the Abbey is picturesque. You remember seeing it as you rode up the driveway that first afternoon. It had been so imposing then, gothic and ancient and huge compared to Marseille. These things are still true as you emerge into the sunny lawn, but in the sunbeams, with a breeze that holds only a little bit of bite compared to the air when you arrived, it begins to feel safe.

Your mind reels against the Abbey being a safe place. For your entire stay thus far, you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you don’t like it here, that you aren’t absolutely titillated by Elizabeth’s diary, that the massive Library doesn’t make your mouth water. This is just a temporary work placement, nothing more. Nothing can keep you attached. Not even Copia. 

You almost have to laugh, because you know immediately that you’re lying to yourself. You’re already attached. The thought of leaving the Abbey burns in your gut, but the thought of leaving him almost makes you crumble. 

You squeeze Copia’s hand. “Still with us?” You ask gently.

Your voice brings him back to this realm, but he’s already mostly through his mental recital of The Road Not Taken, and it’s better if he finishes it. It helps him breathe. Decide. 

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

“Yes,” Copia replies after a moment. “Still here. Sorry, cara mia.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be. Would it help to talk out loud?”

Copia turns his head and looks at you. All the words he’d practiced with Terzo are suddenly lost to him, nowhere to be found in his brain. Now he just sees you, feels your presence in his chest, and he knows he can’t use some rehearsed line with you. That’s not him. And more importantly, that’s not you. 

The two of you walk along the blooming camellia bushes. You recognize them from the first time you’d walked in the back gardens with Copia. They’re the only flowers in bloom at this time of year, bright white and pale pink on a backdrop of evergreen. You wonder why more Siblings don’t spend time in the front gardens, especially at this time of year. The flowers are big and supple, if not just on the verge of wilting for the season, and the springtime breeze carries their sweet scent on a hint of warmth to come. 

“Tesoro,” Copia begins, his voice soft and quiet, just for you. “I, eh… well, I wanted to… tell you that I, eh…” 

You wait patiently. Your heart kicks and you think you might know what he’s trying to say, but you give him time. Neither of you have spoken the words out loud, and in your head, it exists only as the thing between you. The thing that is happening, the thing you feel.

Instead, Copia turns the subject. “I read about camellia flowers recently, you know,” he tells you. “Primo leant me his book, Linguaggio dei Fiori, the language of flowers—well, eh, you must already know that, of course, you are fluent…. Anyways, I was reading about camellia, and I learned that this kind is native to Japan, isn’t that interesting? They only bloom in late winter or early spring, and go dormant in the summer, but they don’t die because they are evergreen shrubs, which means—”

“Copia,” you interrupt gently, “breathe.”

“Right, yes…” He takes a deep breath and his shoulders drop. “What I mean to say is that these flowers will be gone soon, when the warm weather comes. I wanted to take you to see them before they were dormant.”

You stroll along the line of camellia bushes, observing the large blooms closely. The sun almost makes them glow against the dark green leaves. There are a few early bees gathering pollen for their stores, until it’s time for the summer flowers to blossom. You reach out to brush your fingertips against the outer petals of one pink flower, feeling the satiny texture and the dewdrops still clinging from the morning. “They’re beautiful,” you say softly. 

“They remind me of you,” Copia replies. 

Oh sweet Satan, you think, your heart suddenly pounding in your ears. 

He continues after a brief pause. “In that book, Linguaggio dei Fiori, it said…” he clears his throat. “It said that camellia symbolize admiration and affection and desire.” 

You look at him then, and he meets your gaze. Admiration and affection and desire. 

“And longing, for someone who is far away.”

Copia steps closer to you. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, as if to tell you that it’s alright, he won’t ambush you, that these are those feelings and now he’s saying them out loud. Your eyes stay locked on his own, watching as his green eye grows more vibrant against the backdrop of the camellia bushes’ leaves. His other hand lightly runs down your arm to take yours. 

“I’m not far away,” you whisper. 

“No, you are not,” Copia says, and he’s close enough that his breath wisps over your face. You have to tilt your head up slightly to hold his gaze as you stand nearly chest-to-chest. “You are here, and the camellia are getting ready to close their flowers.” 

“And when I go, they will bloom again.” 

“Yes. And when they do, I will long for you, Camellina.”

Camellina. Little camellia. His flower, his blossom in the cold. Here until you’re not. “Copia…” 

He reaches up and brushes a stray hair from your forehead, then traces his fingers down your cheek until he cups your jaw tenderly. “I don’t want to keep dancing around each other,” he tells you softly. “If we only have so much time, I don’t want to waste it.” 

Your eyes flick back and forth between his own, and you’ve committed your own cardinal sin. You’ve gotten attached. So very attached. Incredibly, deeply attached, and you’re terrified, but Lucifer below, how can you be scared when he’s looking at you like that. Like he might already love you. 

“No,” you say. “I don’t want to waste it, either.

“Then please, camellia mia, let me kiss you.” 

He waits for just the slightest nod of your head before he draws you in and presses his lips to yours. 

It’s really not a kiss at first, just a light brushing of lips together. He wants to know you’re sure that this is what you want. And when you don’t run, or disappear, or turn into a frog like some fairytale bastardization, he kisses you for real. Your lips fit together like they were cast from the same mold, built as the perfect opposite by Satan himself. He kisses you like you’re ethereal. 

His hand on your jaw pulls you closer while his other hand slides around your back, and your own find his shoulders to keep yourself upright. He tastes like overly sweet coffee and whatever the refectory had served for breakfast and something else you can’t really place, but has the same distinctness as how he smells. The subtle oakiness of his cologne fills your nose as it sweetly bumps against his. His thumb gently pushes your jaw up, tilting your head to kiss you deeper at a better angle. You feel his tongue swipe along your bottom lip and you don’t even have to think before you let him in. 

Your hands trail down from his shoulders to his chest and you press slightly, feeling the warmth of his body under his vest. You can feel the quick pounding of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips and you know from the thundering in your ears that yours is paced the same. 

When he pulls away, it’s barely far enough to stop the embrace. With every slight movement, your lips brush together in the lightest touch possible, an echo of the kiss you’d just shared. 

“Impie… seigneur des ténèbres en bas,” you breathe against his lips. It seems the only words that can escape you now are those thanking your Dark Lord for the man standing before you. What else can you say when Copia has just drained your brain of any coherent thought? “Embrasse-moi comme ça pour toujours.” 

Copia laughs, the puff of air brushing against your lips and cheek. “I’ve broken her, I think,” he says. “She’s lost her English.”

You swallow and try to suppress the heat rising to your face. “I, uh… merde, I can hardly think. Maybe you did.” 

“Is this a good thing, camellina?” Copia asks, his thumb brushing against your cheek. He’s still wearing his leather gloves but you wish that he’d take them off. You want to feel his palms against you. 

“Oui—sì, er… yes,” you stumble. 

Copia laughs again and presses another kiss to the apple of your cheek. “You know, I thought I was going to be the one tongue-tied,” he says with a little smirk. “But I’ve rehearsed this in my head about a million times, so perhaps the shock hasn’t set in yet.” 

“Oh? It hasn’t?” You ask, finally coming back to your head. You lean up and kiss him again, simply because you can. 

“N-no, not yet. Sathanas, do that again.”

You oblige, and kiss him once more. This time you linger, your fingers gripping the fabric of his vest and pulling slightly. You feel him smile into the kiss. He’s still smiling when you pull away. “I don’t think you ever finished your thought,” you say, remembering what he’d said before… all this. 

“No, I did,” Copia tells you. “I had this whole speech planned, telling you how much I adore you, but I kind of… stumbled through it.” 

You smile, imagining what his rehearsed speech might’ve been like, but it doesn’t feel right. You can’t imagine it going any other way than it did. “I adore you, too,” you say softly. “And your speech was perfect. Very you.” 

“Awkward, long-winded, but somehow made sense?” Copia asks. He draws you into his side and takes your hand again, resuming your stroll through the front garden. 

You laugh, and Lucifer below, it’s the sweetest thing Copia’s ever heard. “Exactly.”

Oh, this is bad. Maybe you would’ve gotten away with a mild heartbreak when you left if you hadn’t kissed him. But you had, and you know that when you leave you’ll be devastated. Kissing him, allowing yourself to finally feel the feelings you’ve been desperately pushing down since you first met him, is just digging yourself deeper into the hole you find yourself in. 

But how comfortable and warm and perfect this hole is. 

You remember the passage from Elizabeth’s diary you’d been having trouble with. In a dying garden, choose healthy roses. Find the good within the bad, the light in the dark. 

When you spare a glance at Copia as the two of you continue strolling through the front gardens, you find that there’s a dimple on his cheek that hadn’t been there before, and little crinkles beside his eyes. He’s smiling. You smile too, and look forward again. 

Pick, girl, the roses. 

~~~

“You remember what we talked about, I’m sure?” Sister Imperator asks Secondo, who stands in her office rather against his will. 

“Yes.” 

“And you have kept it a secret?” 

“Yes.” 

He hasn’t. 

No, in fact, he’d done the opposite of what Sister Imperator had asked him to do, just to slight her. He’d told you exactly how old Elizabeth’s diary is, and what he knows about Prime Movers. Although it seems like Sister Imperator knows more than he, if she’s so adamant about keeping it hidden. 

“Good,” Sister nods. “We wouldn’t want some little French girl getting any ideas.” 

Secondo huffs and looks out the window of Sister Imperator’s office.

There you are, walking hand-in-hand with his younger brother, looking quite cozy. From the second-floor vantage point, Secondo can tell the two of you are talking, but he can’t tell about what. The window is situated at Imperator’s back—she’d given herself the corner office, of course—so she can’t see what’s happening just under her nose. Secondo’s lips quirk up at the corner at the sight. From the little interaction he’s had with you, he knows you’re not some naive little French girl. 

“Sister,” Secondo begins, “I do not understand what is so important about it that it has to stay a secret.”

Sister Imperator is irked. “Because it must,” she says, as if that’s a good explanation. “We can’t have just any Sibling with a womb vying for Papa’s attention because they heard a silly rumor. Not everything is full of sunshine and butterflies.” 

“And what rumor is that?” 

Sister sighs. “Being a Prime Mover is not glamorous, Secondo. The role is barbaric and dehumanizing, and I would not have any Siblings think otherwise.”

Secondo turns to leave with a huff. “I was hoping you would tell me something I did not already know.” 

“Ask your father,” Sister Imperator says, and perches her reading glasses on the tip of her nose in dismissal.  

~~~

March 29

I woke up in Papa’s bed this morning, alone. I do not fool myself when I say I had not hoped differently. 

Mother says the ritual went well. She says the candelabras in the garden chapel stayed burning all night, a sign of approval from the Dark One. She says that candles lit from the fire of burning ritual bedsheets will burn until the sun takes over, but I think it is just because the candles were large and extra care was taken to ensure the chapel is not drafty. 

He was very gentle. He was very… skilled with his hands and mouth. He treated me like a lover when we were alone in the chapel. It was as if the ritual bed was my own, and all I could focus on was how I felt and how he felt. Whispered words and praises and caresses on my skin. He was human for those moments. He became Papa once more when the knocker sounded. 

Mother said to be glad that he was gentle at all. She said, ‘pick, girl, the roses.’ 

I want to believe that Papa hates this as much as I. He seems kind. Perhaps a man obligated by faith into such a demeaning practice, but kind nonetheless. I want to believe he cares for me in some regard. If not now, I hope he will grow to, as we will be spending much time together. But he was kind, and he was gentle. In a dying garden, choose healthy roses.

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

Tag list: @bonelessghoul @gbatesx @the-did-i-ask @leah-halliwell92 @archive-obsess @rosacrose @nikkyatoyourservice @sodoswitchimage @portaltothevoid @lightbluuestars @thesoundresoundsecho @stephnthangss @enchantedbunny @jackson5611-blog @copiasprincipessa @kadedoesthings @justheretoreadleavemealone @tiedyedghoulette @bl00d-mxxn @honimello @deetz-ghuleh @copias-sewer-rat

[cupfullofpapas]

(Yes I'm reusing this image too busy to doodle a new one :''( life has been super crazy as of late ) Second Vol in The Assistant series: In the arms of a Devil Rated: E F/M Cardinal Copia x F!Reader Papa Emeritus IV x F!Reader

Also read it on my Ao3 here Previous Vol. : The Assistant Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Part 6: Scent Your patience was nearing its end as you stood by the window looking over the ministries garden watching your fellow siblings of sin some tending to the gardens, some sitting below the few trees that offered an abundance of shade, the weather had decided to act right for once and allowed everyone a day outside, you however, decided to stay indoors. 

As much as you tried to convince yourself that things were okie dokie they weren't, you missed Copia like hell and your chest ached from it, well it was either that or allergies or perhaps both. You've considered talking to Gemma,  the only Prime mover you knew of who had been with her Papa during his touring era.

Each time you went to talk to her you gave yourself excuses not to bother her those excuses now becoming ridiculous. 

With everyone outside enjoying the sunny day the Abbey was quiet so you chose to sit in the cafeteria once the walls of your dorm room started to get to you feeling as if they were closing in. Sitting down at one of the many tables with a muffin you had gotten from the kitchen, picking little pieces off of it like an overgrown crab. 

Sweet Satan, you felt weird, you never thought you could miss someone this much you didn't even miss Secondo this much when he was out of the office for a long period of time... pausing you frowned, with all that had happened that sounded pretty harsh, being lost in thought you plucked another piece of the muffin popping it into your mouth followed by another.

"Child what's got you down in the dumps?."

The sudden voice made you jump looking up to see Sister Twist looking down at you her hands on her hips concern written all over her face. "Satanas, Twist don't spook me like that."  The redhead only shrugged before sitting in the chair across from you the thing giving a slight whine. 

"I forgot how cheesy these things were, you'd think with how much Imperator bitches about the budget and cash there would be a stockpile for new cafeteria chairs at least, things look like they're from the fuckin sixties" Twist snickered however when she didn't hear you join in either laughing or ragging on Imperator she knew something was on your mind. 

"Hey."  Twist snapped her fingers a few times getting your attention.  "Talk to me, what's eating at you, and don't say nothing 'cause momma Twist knows."   You rolled your eyes before answering.  "Just with the tour and all and.."  You trailed off looking for the right words. "You miss your man". Your cheeks turned a light shade of red nodding adverting your eyes from the older sister of sin.

"You miss Copia and you feel weird for missing him so much because you've never missed or depended on someone else who wasn't blood-related that and you feel like your heart is being ripped out through your rib cage."  You opened your mouth to speak however Twist held up her hand silencing you. 

"And even though you still talk to him on the phone or text it feels like it's not enough and yadda yadda."  You stayed silent staring at her before uttering a little 'fuck you' which made the older sibling laugh.   "There's nothing wrong with feeling this way, it's natural to feel this way when you miss someone you love."  

Love, you did love him right?, you remembered the day you told Secondo that you loved him back when he declared his love for you the thought put an uneasy pit in your stomach which caused you to push the muffin aside, why were you even asking yourself this?, you just had teenage phone sex last night with the man. You felt a hand rest on your shoulder Twist wore a kind smile.  "You'll know the answer when he comes back, sweetie."  You smiled and rested your hand above hers the moment was short-lived as Lenti came running into the cafeteria. 

"Twist! Omega, Divine, Alpha, and Terzo are fucking in the music room again!."   "Oh for the love of sweet Satan, those fuckers are gonna get a boot up their ass."   "Careful they might like that." You chimed in as Twist pushed the chair in heading to the music room complaining the entire way, the last time those four got into it in the music room Pebble's drumset was a casualty and Sister Imperator was furious about having to buy a whole new set for the ghoul. The sound of something hitting the floor and the yelling of Imperator's voice pulled you from your thoughts. "You daft idiots!, Be careful with this equipment it's very important and very expensive!."  Getting up from your seat you wandered over to the door seeing that the ghouls were moving a bunch of medical equipment, was someone sick?

"Sister?." you asked stepping from the cafeteria, Imperator turned quickly to face you a smile coming to her face her demeanor changing quickly.  "Hello dear." "What's all this?." "It is for Papa Nihil when he gets back from tour with Cardi, don't you worry about it I have everything under control" She offered the fakest of smiles before following the ghouls walking away her red heels clicking and clacking on the floor. 

The 'short time apart' felt more like years apart the only good thing that happened in your opinion was that Sister Imperator had given you the option of going back to your old dorm room or staying in the current one alongside Copia given the fact that you two were an item, you of course chose to stay in the shared room one because you did not feel like packing everything up and two once Copia got back you were going to stick to him like glue. 

Your day off finally came, the day when you could just lay around your dorm room and not have to worry about anything other than flopping your face into Copia's pillow and breathing in the fleeting scent you hadn't even bothered to change out of your pajamas.

 Rolling over in bed you went face-first into the soft depths of your Cardinal's pillow breathing in-- it was then that you realized that his scent was gone from the fabric, you started to think, what could you do? you needed his scent you needed to feel as if he was there, the worry was starting to set in, and then it hit you.. but were you that desperate?

.....Yes, yes you were...

 Scooting closer to the edge of his side of the bed you opened the nightstand digging around in the drawer. Sometimes the lack of organization of his personal items got to you and made you want to shake him but on the other hand, it also gave you things to do. While you were on your search you looked at some of the things he had tucked away in there. 

A list of numbers, a few unopened juice boxes, several pens, pictures, loose change, and receipts however it wasn't just any receipts they were from the couple nights you and him half-assedly eloped there was even one from the gas station. A smile had worked its way to your face as you looked over each one recounting each item there was also a list there in his scratchy handwriting of things you liked and didn't like, your smile only grew wider as your fingers slid over the indented paper following the pen marks the Chinese menu you both had ordered from. 

You remembered when you accidentally launched a shrimp at the television screen that night, the memory earned a quiet laugh, putting the items back you were on the move again until your searching fingers finally found what you were looking for.

Closing the nightstand's drawer you sat up holding a bottle, it was Copia's cologne your thumb ran over the elegant lettering feeling the different textures on the label, after mentally telling yourself how crazy and weird you were several small sprays were sprayed onto his pillow and one on yourself.

The bottle was placed back inside the nightstand drawer, and the pillow now damp with the scent was turned over the damp side against the bed sheet once again you flopped face-first into it this time being hit with the strong scent of your man. You felt your whole body tingle and warm up as soon as you breathed in his scent your skin prickling with goosebumps, it made you giddy picturing Copia there with you tangled up in the blankets enjoying your time together. 

It was weird sometimes, how a simple scent could make a body heat up, your thighs squeezed together dulling the throb that started as soon as his scent filled your nostrils, your mind thinking about those hands of his and the way they felt when he slid them along your body and gripped your soft flesh the smooth of the leather.   Your hand has started to trace the patterns on your body picturing that they were his fingers, his palms, and you were a willing victim under his expert touches, your Cardinals name was whispered past your lips as your fingertips came to the swell of your pussy lips.

You could picture him there staring down at you, kissing you his fingers teasing you driving you wild, his tongue swirling with yours in the timeless dance of love. You were about to sink your fingers inside of yourself when there was a knock at the door making you halt your actions and look up. Rolling your eyes you stayed quiet maybe if you didn't make a sound whoever it was would just go away thinking that you weren't home, you thought it had worked but there the knocking was again, flopping your pillow over your face you groaned into it before getting up washing your hands and answering the door.  Unlocking the handle and deadbolt you opened the door being face to face with Sister Imperator once again at this point you almost swore this woman was stalking you. 

"Sister?."  You asked doing your best not to sound annoyed. "Evening, I have some-- unfortunate news for you."  -------------------------------------------- TAG LIST: Please message me if you would like to be added to the tag list! @thesoundresoundsecho @xpapaemeritus @copiasprincipessa @siouxbauhaus

[copias-sewer-rat]

IN HIS IMAGE [SECONDO x f!reader] - CHAPTER II

Secondo is absent and you deeply miss him, what antics will you too come up with to make the separation a bit more tolerable?

Welcome to the 1% plot of this fic. I wanted to try something fantastical/ritualistic for this one, hope you don’t mind.

tw/tags: smut, +18 warning, established relationship, m/f relationship, phone sex, dirty talk, use of sex toys, satanic ritual mention, mention of dagger, semi public sex (kinda?), dom!Secondo, possesive Secondo, p in v action, cowboy. 3.7K words

Read also on Ao3 | My masterlist

Previous chapter | Next chapter

————

You feel fucking lonely.

Secondo had left for a business trip, for a week! How dared he? Didn’t he know how much you love him? How much you miss him? It is only Wednesday, he is supposed to come back on Sunday. You cannot take it anymore, wearing his clothes, chatting with him, looking at his pictures, everything makes you even sadder and you are at your limit.

There is something you could do, something to quiet the ache existing between your legs (and in your heart, but right now your pussy is winning the battle against your heart). A few weeks back you had acquired a dildo with the form of your lover’s shaft… However, the thought of using it alone felt almost sacrilegious… good thing then that you were a Satanist. Good fucking thing…

————

A month earlier…

The altar was dimly lit with a few black candles and the light of the full moon hovering over the chapel. Secondo stood there, atop of the set of stairs, preparing the altar. A beautiful ornate dagger in his hands, a simple dark green robe covering his body, the same one you were wearing. It was cold but somehow you could feel Secondo’s body heat reaching to you from the considerable distance that separated you both. The Olde one must have been present, must have known how much you long for each other.

“It is ready, tesoro. Are you sure you want to do this?” You smiled at him, going up the stairs slowly, meticulously, without breaking eye contact. “I know what you said cara, but this bond is meant to last forever… Are you absolutely sure?”

You grabbed his face, careful to not smudge his paints, looking into his powerful gaze, his eyes full of love. After your first adventure with the dildo, you had opened up to Secondo. Everything that worried you about the relationship, all that you felt and still feel about him: pure and unconditional love, but also anguish. Feeling like only a side plate, just a peaceful place for him to return to and nothing more. Secondo’s gaze softened when you had told him. Guilt wasn’t an emotion that he was used to feel, but when it comes to you… He felt guilty for not noticing it, for neglecting that side of your relationship for so long. After that, the laid his true feelings for you bare, raw, passionate. He also loved you deeply, fervently, eternally. He wanted to make everything official with you, it was not that he felt ashamed of being seen with you, he was afraid that the pressure, the title, the responsibilities and of himself. He feared that he would scared you off if he let you in completely. He knows better since then that you are there to stay, forever, no matter what.

“Caro, I love you, and I want to be with you always. I think that’s not too much to ask, is it?” You put your index finger over your closed lips, a mocking gesture of pondering. Secondo couldn’t avoid to laugh at your antics.

“I think that that is the most noble of reasons, tesoro…” He answered, grabbing your hand in his and pecking your lips. Before he could part you returned the kiss, a loving confirmation of your devotion. He closed his eyes and when you separated you were already looking at him when he opened them again.

“Yes, my love, I am sure…”

Without any other words he started to chant in perfect Latin, a prayer he had learned by heart so he could just focus on you, nothing else. He laid you on top of the altar, revealing your naked self to him and he did the same, taking his robe off and tossing it to the ground. Secondo took your hips, his face dimly lit by the candles, harsh shadows marking his features, his mouth still chanting in Latin something that you could not understand:

“Duo unum sunt.

Domine satanas buius caritatis testis mugire,

aeterne.”

He took you there, made love to you, so sweetly. The dagger came to play later, he made you drink from him and he drank from you. Then, he came inside of you and you came around him. Lustful union, eternal.

————

Present day…

You pick your phone, sending a quick message to your partner:

‘Caro, are you free to talk?’

‘Aren’t we talking?’

‘I mean like in a phone call!’

‘ah…’

‘What you mean ah?! Are you free or not?!’

‘I was just teasing tesoro… relax… what has gotten into you?’

‘Nothing… I just miss you…’

‘Oh, you sweet thing. Give me due minuti.’

‘Okay… thank you.’

You wait, so impatiently, and then you remember that you need to get it ready. Quickly you sprint towards your bedroom wardrobe and retrieve the object you long for: the dildo. It looks like the first day, big, wide, a bit fantastical but so unmistakably him. You want for Secondo to know how much you actually miss him, how deeply you want to feel him… all-the-time.

You rush back to your bed and take off your pajama pants, leaving you only dressed with one of Secondo’s old tees and your black lace panties, one of Secondo’s favorite pairs . The shirts are always too big for you, but you do not care. Secondo himself was known for being somewhat of a monster in terms of size (all the sizes). Being as tall as some of the tallest ghouls, buff and a bit tender, soft tum, perfect to lay your head against to take a nap, voluptuous man boobs and a firm butt and thighs. He is also very strong, like dead lifting strong. Even at his age he was able to carry you around using only one arm.

You began to picture it, Secondo lifting you up, slapping your ass like a raw piece of meat, whispering in your ear all the depravities he is going to do to you… You start to feel hot again, your nipples poking the cold fabric of the shirt and you take a whiff of it. It smells like expensive alcohol, mint and burnt wood… and of his sweat. You asked him to wear a couple of shirts before he left so you could wear them yourself. This particular one, an old Missfits tee, was one of his favorites (and yours too). Particularly, he had worn it right before he left, while exercising. You saw him lifting himself on the exercise bar that hangs on your bathroom door, wearing only a pair of boxers, which absolutely let on the fact that he was hard all the time while exercising, and that tee… let’s say that the boxers didn’t stay on for far too long after that.

The memory is enough to get you soaking wet. You are about to act on your desires when suddenly the phone rings. You groan, but then you remember who is going to be at the other way of the phone call.

“Hello handsome…” You say, trying to sound seductive, but it sounds more needy than anything.

“Buonasera cuore mio… Is there anything wrong?”

“Yes… a lot of things actually, but first… are you alone?” You ask, a playful grin adorning your lips.

“Si… I had to excuse myself on behalf of a very urgent phone call… They told me I could use a private office to do so…”

“Good… the matter is very urgent indeed.”

“What is it tesoro? Are you hurt?” Secondo asks and you have to use all the will power in you to keep a straight face.

“Yes, I am caro, very hurt. My feelings are hurt, I miss you so much I cannot sleep, I want you to hold me close, I want to feel you everywhere, to make me yours again…” There is a long pause… you can only hear Secondo’s deep breaths, not in an exasperated manner, but in a trying to control himself way.

“Tesoro… we had a very long goodbye session to avoid these kinds of issues, remember?” You blush at the memory.

“Well… yes…” you answer, trying to sound hurt “it is your fault thatI need you all the time…”

“Maybe it is…” Secondo agrees with a thinking tone. “Do you have any idea that might lessen your pain tesoro?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I do.” He hums, trying to control himself, but you can hear his elaborate breathing through the speaker. “I have remembered that there is something here with me that can help me… maybe you could guide me with it?”

“Oh, glorioso Satana. Do you have it with you now?”

“I do.”

“Bene…”

“What should I do first Papa?” You ask, sounding so submissive, so ready for him.

“Fucking- first you should take off your pants dear…”

“Already done sweetie. I am wearing nothing but your shirt and my lacy black panties.” You hear a deep groan at the other side of the call.

“Tesoro, you know how much I love those… and you are wearing my shirt… holy fuck you must look so fucking perfetta… so sinful, so tempting, la mia mela…” The tone is sultry, slow, sensual… how bad you wish you had him in front of you. His breath slows down, it sounds heavy, it even feels heavy. It is wet, needy, full of lust and you can only swoon.

“More caro, tell me more… what next?” You ask, biting your lip.

“Mmmm, remove your panties for me you sweet thing, slowly… leave the shirt on, I want it back smelling of you, of your arousal…” It is inevitable, the moan that escapes you and you want him to hear it so badly. You do as he says, the wetness in you getting hit by how cold the air of the room feels. The contrast makes you shiver slightly, but it only feels uncomfortable for a moment.

“It is done, I am bare now but for your shirt.”

“Fuck… give me a moment dear…” The sound of fabric rustling does not escape you, neither does the sound of the zipper going down. He must be getting his cock out of the confinement of his pants.

“What are you doing caro?” You ask knowingly, trying to hold a giggle.

“I am letting my fucking cock free so I can fuck you like you deserve my sweet…” You blush, deeply. “Nothing else but my cock can fuck you, only me… only my cock.”

“Yes Papa…” You agree and he groans. He must have done something, how badly you wish you could see him. However, the intrigue… it fuels your imagination to no end. In your mind he is in front of your, sitting comfortably on the armchair at the other corner of the room, guiding you, stroking his cock, groaning in pleasure, telling you how good you are fucking his cock.

You are waiting for something, a word, a command. Secondo is taking his time, teasing you. He knows how imaginative you are and he is letting you suffer. That fucker…

“Caro, please… What should I do now?” You whine and Secondo chuckles deeply. He is pleasuring himself, you imagine and you almost want to do the same yourself, fuck his orders, you want to fuck him so badly it is eating you from the inside.

“Così poca pazienza… Va bene, spit on your hand and stroke my cock with it dear, I need it nice and wet for you…” You do, slowly but surely you coat his entire member with your spit. It feels a little weird doing this to a dildo, but then you hear Secondo’s soft moans and you know the ritual is indeed working. The dildo is even emiting some sort of bluish glow and then you know. He is before you, you are stroking his real cock and it feels so warm.

“Brava ragazza, I can fucking feel you, your hand… is that weird?” He asks and your breath fastens.

“I can feel you, my love. Your dick, it is so big… fuck…”

“Cazzo, tesoro… I am going to fuck you… so much, so good, so perfect per me…”

“Please, Secondo, please fuck me already. Don’t tease me any longer.”

“Such a beggar, so needy for my cock… Sit on it my sweet, and let me hear you.”

You oblige once again, grabbing the toy. Sitting on your knees, you lift yourself up a bit and place the dildo right bellow you and descend slowly until you fill it rubbing your entrance. It is difficult, but you manage to sink on it with only one hand, the other one busy holding your phone, a very desperate Secondo breathing your moans through the machine.

“Fucking hell, fuck, fuck, fuck, so big…”

“Ecco, mia cara, stai andando così bene, prendimi intero…” He says as you slowly as you continue your descend, Secondo’s form stretching you. Suddenly, it is filling you entirely and you gasp. You know your knees will be hurting in the morning, but you don’t give a shit. What matters is that he is inside of you, you can feel him, pulsating inside, a faint glow coming for your wet entrance. The ritual did indeed fucking work.

“What are you doing now tesoro?”

“I am seating on you cock, gosh, it is so big, so perfect. The perfect fit.”

“Fuck… move up and down for me bella and let me hear how wet you are against my cock…” You do as he says and put the phone on speaker, placing it on the bed next to where the action is happening. You lift yourself slowly and then go back down with force, gasping for air once again once you make it all the way down again. “Dammit, that sounded so fucking wet, and I can feel it, your pussy, so tight… Is it all in?” Secondo asks almost without breath.

“It… it is, my love, you feel so good… I have missed you so much…”

“Tesoro, I have missed you so much as well… cazzo.” You wish you could see him right now, he must be so fucking hard.

“What are you doing, caro?”

“I am fucking deep inside of you, that’s what… And I am going to let you ride me, baby. Can you do that for me?” No words leave your lips, just a simple hum of confirmation. “Brava. Lean over and place your hands on the mattress, imagine it is my pecs.”

“Yeah… dear Satan bellow…” You moan, as you feel the dildo move slightly out of you, granting some relief.

“Very good, that’s it. Now rise your hips slowly.” You do as he says and the dildo slowly gets further from your core. “Now start with a rhythmic motion, circular, up and down, take whatever you need from me my dear…”

You are too lost to do anything else, Secondo’s voice feeling like master guiding every move of a puppet. You go up and down, feeling his actual heat, his twitching, his very form. Your hands even if they are on top of the mattress do not feel the soft sheets, but a pair of hairy pecks, hard and voluptuous.

“Caro, ah- where are you?” You ask, trying to fuel your mental image of him.

“I- I am on top of a desk, laying up, shit- I can feel you on top of me tesoro… can you feel me too?”

“I fucking can Secondo, holy shit… You are right here with me- ah- fuck- so good…” You moan, when you feel a pair of hands grabbing your thighs. “Fuck me! FUCK! Secondo I need to go faster… can I go faster? Please-ah?” The plead escaping you with the remnants of your breath.

“Donna peccatrice, cazzo, vai più veloce per me… yes, my love, go fucking faster.”

You pick up the pace, the circular motions long forgotten, you are just going up and down and you swear that there is a noise of flesh hitting flesh in the room. You wonder if Secondo can hear it too. The wetness inside is out of this world. You have learned by heart how Secondo feels, his muscles, his body hair, his mouth finding all the spots that make you wild, his cock… How he parts your folds with it with such ease, how he thrusts into you like you were about to disappear, trying to keep you by his side with each slam of his hips. This is something else, the ritual must have enhanced your lust, your core is already tight, you are holding for dear life. In this position it feels like he is impaling you, the erect member between your legs like a sword thrusting to hit the exact spot that will make you cry of pleasure.

There is no sound for a moment, just muffled hums, praises and curses filled with lust. You feel like you are abandoning your body, going to a plane above this one, the ecstasies filling every inch of your body with every movement of your hips.

“Tesoro, I need to see you, per favore-ah-cazzo. You are taking me so well, I need to see your tits fucking bouncing in front of me. I need to see your face while you cum around my fucking cock ah-ah- I know you are close, I can feel it, so deep inside, it is making me go wild, tesoro.” As best as you can, you video call him, placing your phone on the pillows in front of you, trying for your whole form to be visible for him. One ring, two, then he picks up.

Secondo looks like a beautiful mess. He has placed the phone on a chair facing the desk he is lying on. His dick bouncing with every movement you do, his chest covered by a black shirt that is a couple of buttons away from being completely open. A necklace of the Ghost project falling from his chest… You don’t see his papal robes so you assume he has discarded them somewhere in the room. Once he sees you, his t-shirt hugging your sides, your pussy meeting and letting his cock in and out with such ease, the dildo glistening with your juices and the small glow from the ritual… his mouth just hangs open in pleasure.

“Fucking shit, my love, la mia colomba perfetta, amore della mia vita, sei così perfetta, così bisognosa, così lussuriosa…” You open your mouth to let out a silent scream while you observe Secondo raising his arm. His clothed finger finds your open mouth as it always does and you suck hungrily, your tongue twirling around the invisible digit. “Fuck I can feel your wet mouth around my finger, that fucking ritual… the best decision we have ever done.” You can only hum around his finger, bouncing like a happy rabbit. “Let me feel you more, you are doing so good for your Papa. I fucking love your tight pussy, your tits, your ass, so fucking ah- good.” He takes his finger from your mouth and aligns it alongside his other one to where your tits are supposed to be. He looks at you, tears wheeling in your eyes, lost in divine pleasure and he goes for it, testing the reach of the lust ritual.

He grabs your tits with force, an once again faint glow meeting his touch, his thumbs caressing your hardened nipples under your shirt. Fuck, you can feel him under your shirt. Secondo manhandles your tits expertly and you just lean back a bit, throwing your hands from his pecs to his thighs, digging your nails into them.

“Fuck Secondo, fuck, I am going to cum, I- fuck, fuck, fuck me- ah, I am going to cum, I- I-” You scream, the tightening in your abdomen getting more and more desperate by the second, you have been holding it for a while, waiting for Secondo to get there as well.

“Cazzo, tesoro, come together with me, feel my seed inside of you, let me fill you up, my precious little thing…”

With a couple of more thrusts you explode, the walls of your pussy contracting around the toy and also Secondo’s cock. Through your phone you can see it, his cock getting milked, your invisible walls clenching his member into blissful release, the glow around his member shinning brightly while you cum. He does as well, shooting ropes into you, and you can feel them, his hot seed filling you up. Not only that, you can see it. Through tearful eyes you see his release hitting your walls and falling into his balls and him legs. His teeth are clenched and his hands are grabbing your tits with even more force, trying to get the most pleasure out of the moment. He is so far gone that he even draws a bit of blood from his lips.

Everything feels otherworldly, the light in the room like halos, the glow from the places you are touching each other slowly fading, your shared breaths filling your ears and you suddenly collapse on the bed, as many times before. With the motion the dildo gets out from you and Secondo gasps.

The t-shirt is wet with your sweat, but it still smells like him, you sniff as you hum contently. Secondo composes himself quickly and grabs the phone. He sees you laying on the bed, a blissful smile adorning your face, your eyes closed with exhaustion and he smiles back.

“Tesoro…” he whispers “are you ok?” You just nod slightly. “You need to clean yourself my dear…” You shake your head. “My love… I need to go, please know that I love you and… I cannot wait to see you again…”

“I- I love- you…too” the phrase comes alongside a yawn, your eyes still closed, they feel too heavy, as if every bit of energy had been taken from you.

Secondo ends the call, gets himself to look decent and parts from the office room. Of course, his mind is already rummaging on what to do to you next with this newfound power of lust.

----

Italian /Latintranslations:

la mia mela: my own apple

così poca pazienza… va bene: such little patience… ok

brava ragazza: good girl

per me: for me

ecco, mia cara, stai andando così bene, prendimi intero: that’s it, my dear you are doing so well, take me whole.

Duo unum sunt. Domine satanas buius caritatis testis mugire, aeterne: Two become one. Lord Satan bellow be witness of this love, eternal.

Donna peccatrice, cazzo, vai più veloce per me: Sinful woman, fuck, go faster for me

La mia colomba perfetta, amore della mia vita, sei così perfetta, così bisognosa, così lussuriosa: My perfect dove, love of my life, you look so fucking perfect, so needy, so lustful.

----

Taglist: @da-rulah @m0rbidmacabre @jogjosmowwdkfs @foxybouquet @oh-my-beel @allthisandtea @st4rving4in @deetz-ghuleh @redthefieryginger @mae-mei-m @sodoswitchimage @discountdemonwarehouse @molly-ghuleh @ghulehunknown

Let me know if you would like to get tagged!

[demonicdames]

A little writing project of mine that I have on A03 that I'm going to throw here to. Rated: E F/M Papa Emeritus II x F!Reader Cardinal Copia x F!Reader (Later chaps) Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 "Now is that clear?."  Sister Imperator asked as she picked up the stack of papers tapping them on the table before handing them off to Nihil, you nodded hands folded in front of yourself, you weren't new to the ministry you had been there for a few years now and you knew most of the senior members. 

"Very good, now go to Secondo and see if you can help him get things in order." 

"Yes, Sister."  You replied with a nod before leaving the room and heading down to the North wing where the second oldest Emeritus son worked, Primo was East, Terzo was West and Nihil at the moment watched over the South wing.  You smiled as you watched several youths walk down the hall surrounding Primo all talking and asking questions, you liked Primo he was such a father figure to the little ones some orphaned and others left on the doorstep of the ministry you waved to him as you passed the old male giving you a smile and wave back along with an 'evening sister' to which several little voices copied him greeting you a good evening. "Little imps." You chuckled stopping at Secondos office door and giving it a knock.  "Come in." With that you opened the door the office was dark aside from a few candles that were lit giving the room a dim glow. Sister Imperator wasn't lying when she said there was a lot of work that had gotten backed up.  "What do you need Sister?." He asked without looking up, dipping his pen into the ink before continuing his writing.  "Sister Imperator sent me here to assist you." You watched as Secondo stopped his writing the pen being placed back into the small jar of ink, fingers folding as he looked you from foot to head.  "An assistant eh?, tell her that I do not need another disappointment around me, good evening Sister."  His voice was stern. "But Secon-." "Sir." He corrected

"Ah, Sir you don't know how competent I am until you allow me to demonstrate?." Secondo leaned back in his chair thinking about your words. "Fine, you see that stack of folders? organize them." Secondo motioned towards the work before returning to his own, you were relieved that he gave you the chance to prove to him you were capable. 

It took you a half hour tops to get everything sorted and done, the folder being placed on Secondo's desk his mismatched eyes looking up at you a single brow arched the folder being taken and looked at his expression unchanging. "Well, I stand corrected." The Emeritus spoke as the folder was placed down, you watched as he stood up walking around the desk towards you, you backed up until your back hit the door you felt small under his gaze.  "Perhaps I will keep you around cara mia." 

That was three years ago.

The desk whined and creaked below you your hands grabbing onto the edges your head was thrown back as your boss buried his cock deep inside of you. The Emeritus hunched over you as he drew closer and closer to his end when he finally hit it hot streams of cum filled the condom he wore with each throb of his cock. Secondos hand moved down between you two his thumb rolling your clit. "Cum for me cara mia." He panted as he rode out his orgasm slowly adding to your pleasure until you met your end shaking under him calling out his name. 

A few minutes passed before he pulled out of you the condom was pulled off and tossed into the trash with a grumble, he hated them but thankfully the ultra-thins felt okay enough, you hated them too but it was either that or risk getting pregnant. Finally, after a few minutes, you sat up shakily meeting Secondo with a kiss and another as he stuffed his now soft cock back into his pants.  "Thank you for your assistance cara."

"Always at your service Sir." You replied sliding from his desk and grabbing your panties from the floor, this wasn't your first time doing this, there had been countless times that Secondo had you laid out over his desk be it for an evening meal or to deal with a boner. 

"Sorella?." Secondo asked from his desk as he wrote on several pages. "Yes Sir?."  "How would you feel about coming to my room for a drink or two?."  "I'd like that very much." You replied with a smile, you enjoyed spending time with Secondo he always made you feel- wanted the way he would stare at you and undress you with his eyes you always felt your face getting warm when he did. 

When the end of the day came you walked with Secondo down the North hall some paperwork in your arms both chatting about the day and greeting siblings as you walked. Getting to his room Secondo locked the door once you both had entered. "Excuse me for a moment cara." He spoke heading out of the room to remove his robe and put it up leaving him in a black suit returning he poured you both two cups of wine. "Come cara sit sit sit." He nodded to the couch to which he took a seat himself settling beside you and offering you the wine. 

"Thank you, Sir-."  "Secondo, you know when we are in private you can use it." "Secondo." You spoke getting a grin from him as he sipped his wine. "Today was a good day, sì?."  "Today was indeed a good day, though not much work got done." You tried to hide that smile of yours behind the glass of wine. "Yes, we had to have several little- meetings."

You giggled at that watching as he finished the wine in one good gulp. "Speaking of, I'd like to have another after-work meeting." To that, you smiled a brow arching in interest. 

The next thing you knew his lips were on yours kissing he had eased you back onto his couch, hovering above you your arms wrapped around him your body arching up against his as you stretched out, Secondo moved one of your legs up over his hip you could feel the bulge in his pants grind down against your clothed pussy making you pull back from the kiss gasping his name, a second one following as he ground down against you harder dry fucking you into the couch cushions your arms wrapped tightly around him. 

"S-Secondooo." You panted as he continued your clit thick and throbbing beneath your panties which were getting moister by the moment your hand moved from around him to grip the couch. You were on the edge almost there when he pulled away from you, you gave a loud groan of disapproval when he did so which was shushed with a kiss to your lips then to your neck and lower kissing his way down your clothed body while hands pushed your skirt up over your hips. Coming to rest between your legs Secondo took in a deep breath, breathing in your scent. 

"Meraviglioso."  Leaning up he bit down on the thin waistband and pulled them down, a sticky strand of your wetness connected your panties to your pussy for mere seconds. Secondo left them at your knees a type of restraint as he hooked your legs over his shoulders. "Ringrazia il signore oscuro per questo pasto." Spoken before his tongue dipped between the folds of your pussy from bottom to top, his tongue cupped to collect the sticky mess between them swallowing it with a hum of approval. 

Your breathing hitched as his tongue pressed flat against your soft flesh, following your slit slowly hands hooking around your thighs tight enough to leave bruises on the soft skin. Your lips parted moaning and panting for him to quicken his pace your hips arching trying to fuck yourself on his tongue however his hands moved to grip your hips pinning them down harshly making you whimper. "Ah, ah, Sorella." He spoke against your puffy lips his sharp fangs teasing the sensitive flesh. "B-b-bu- but Secon-OH!." You gasped as his tongue finally slipped inside of you, your hand rested atop his head as he ate you out mercilessly, bringing you closer to the edge closer and closer until a flick at your clit sent you over.

You cried out as you came you could feel the throbs in your pelvis the clench of your pussy you felt your blood rushing from your pelvis down to your legs and back, your hips arching up against his talented tongue as you came. Coming down from your high you felt the couch below you shift and the sound of a belt clicking about. You opened your eyes in time to see Secondo rolling a condom over his cock, the paint on his chin smudged he was breathing hard. In seconds he was above you crushing his lips against yours you could taste yourself on his lips especially when his tongue forced its way past yours. 

Taking hold of the base of his cock Secondo teased your pussy tapping it against your clit making your legs twitch with each tap. The grumble you gave into the kiss made him break said kiss to chuckle darkly. "Fuck me Secondo." You breathed at another tap against your sensitive clit.  "In a moment sorella, I'm savoring the look on your face when craving to be filled by your Papas cock." Secondo breathed as his condom-covered cock twitched against your clit.  "Ah- pl-please!." Another tap. "Secondo!." Two more taps. "Papa!." 

With that, he guided himself inside of you his hand left the base of his cock to take hold of your wrists pinning the above your head in one hand as he filled you completely making your breath hitch. "Bellissima, bellissima." Secondo panted as he settled against you enjoying the feeling of your walls around him, or what he could feel with that damn condom on.  He kept your wrists pinned as he started a quick hard rhythm within you, his tip colliding with your cervix each time. You wrapped both your legs around him as he fucked you.  "H-Harder!, oh Secondo fuck- fuck me harder!." You gasped out.  "Cazzo-." He breathed giving a deep bloodthirsty growl his hips increased with both speed and strength the couch below creaking and whining. 

"I-I'm so close, so cl-sloooseee Secondo!." You panted out as you felt that pressure within your pelvis about to snap, his free hand grabbed your chin roughly making you look at him.  "Eyes on me when you cum sorella," Secondo growled his mismatched eyes staring into yours as he fucked you bringing you to your end, your gaze never leaving his as your brows arched your pussy clenching tightly around his cock as you came again your whole body shaking and trembling. Secondo rode out your orgasm keeping his eyes on yours even when he came to his end hot streams of cum filled the condom tip, finally, you broke the gaze your head falling back against the couch both your bodies covered in a thin layer of sweat.  "Sei meraviglioso mio caro."  Secondo breathed out his hips giving two more slow thrusts before pulling out of you. 

You could feel your pussy twitch and clench at the withdrawal, it took a moment before Secondo stood up to take care of the filled condom the thing pulled off and tossed, he felt that it was such a waste of good seed, what he wouldn't give to really fill your womb, plant his seed and watch you swell with his child... Secondo shook his head to clear his thoughts you were his assistant nothing more... right? he glanced over his shoulder at you as you came down from the high body trembling. Even he could not deny that you looked so beautiful recovering from a good fucking.  "Sorella." "Yes, Secondo?." You asked from your spot on the couch.  "It is getting late, you should return to your dorm room."  You tried hard to hide your disappointment nodding as you sat up to retrieve your panties.  "Buonanotte, sorella." He spoke heading into his room and closing the door.  Slipping your panties back on you collect the folders and finish your wine before leaving once you made yourself presentable... what exactly were you to him?, or what were you to Papa Emeritus the second?. --To be continued--

[honey-tongued-devil]

HUITS (last chapter)

Before posting the link to HUITS, I want to let you know that I decided to post both the final chapter and the first chapter of the sequel together. I’ll put both links on this page, but you can also find the sequel’s link at the end of chapter 19.

Comment, ask questions privately, anything serves as feedback and everything is welcome.

Disclaimer: All the characters mentioned are fictional and do not refer to real people. Even Kevin does not refer to the actual staff member, but since he appears as a character in the chapters and the film, he is included as a character. I’m not using his appearance, only the name and his role as the former pope’s right-hand man. I didn’t specify this in the previous story because I took it for granted, but I want to emphasize it now.

HUITS (Hide us in the shadow) last chapter:

CTM (Close to midnight) first chapter:

[daisydeacks]

The Sister

Chapter 1/? Cardinal Copia x Sister!Reader (female pronouns/sex used, reader is y/n) 

Father Copia finds you in the chapel. You learn more about the newer priest and his ulterior motives.  Warnings: smut. gross floor smut. unprotected sex, incorrect religion, some manipulation? consent=key tho, always. 

A/N: this is me dipping my toes into writing for ghost. I kind of have plans to make this a chapter series? enjoy:) Ao3 LINK, Chapter 2

You were kneeling in the church pew, your forehead leaning against your clasped hands. In them was your rosary, the crucifix and strand of beads dangling between your fingers. You found yourself with furrowed eyebrows as you prayed, a sense of annoyance filling you when you couldn’t think of the right words, quietly stumbling over the whispered prayer. It wasn’t long before you exhaled an irritated sigh, murmured an apology, and leaned back on your heels as your hands dropped themselves into your lap.

“Sister, are you alright?” An accented voice spoke from behind you and you jumped, head turning around to greet the person. It was Father Copia. He greeted you with a kind smile, and the sight of his different colored eyes sent a chill up your spine as it did most times.

Not an entirely unpleasant feeling, although, it happened each time you were alone with the man.

“Father! I-” You found yourself trying to scramble to stand before Copia quickly shook his head, his hands motioning for you to stay kneeled. You couldn't help the blush that grew on your face as he came closer to you, the man now kneeling next to you in the pew.

“You do not need to stand, Sister, it’s quite alright.” His kind smile did not waver as he kneeled next to you, a small huff leaving him as he settled on his knees. The two of you were silent for a few moments before he cleared his throat.

“You’ve been in here for quite some time. You like to make sure your Lord hears you correctly, no?”

There it was again. Your Lord. Not our like you heard from everyone else in the church. You eyed Copia a bit nervously before slowly nodding at his question. “I..” You sighed, looking ahead at nothing in particular. Your eyes happened to settle on a stained glass window of Virgin Mary. You always found yourself looking at that one. Even though made of glass, the depiction of her made her seem kind and understanding. It was comforting. “Yes.. Father. Although, I don’t think I could even get a complete sentence out tonight.” You admitted quietly, hands clutching your rosary tightly.

The man hummed in understanding to your words, his own eyes following where yours were looking. “What is on your mind, Sister? If you don’t mind me asking.”

And that too. He always made sure you were okay speaking with him, that you wanted to. Not that there was an issue with that, but the other priests did not give you a choice when asking you to admit what was on your mind.

You found yourself hesitating a moment before your eyes fell downcast, focusing on the rosary in your hands. “I found out this morning that one of my residents from when I worked in a care home has passed away. Not that it’s.. surprising, he was 80 or so years old,” You found yourself smiling at the memory of the man. “But I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye, and it-” You felt a lump form in your throat now, eyes burning. You cleared your throat, tears spilling over when you blinked.

A gloved hand covered your own hands, the leather warm against your cold ones. His thumb rubbed against the back of your right hand comfortingly, his hand now holding both of yours. “It’s okay to cry, Sister. You do not need to hide it or your thoughts around me. I do not see it as weakness or lack of faith.”

Any other priest in the clergy would have asked why you would have needed to say goodbye when you knew you would see him again in the afterlife. That the thought of being able to see him again one day should be comforting enough, that he's with the Lord now and safe once more.

Copia removed his hand from your own and you tried to ignore the drop in your stomach at the loss of contact. You looked over at the man as he dug in the hidden pocket of his black cassock before a soft “ah” left his mustached lips. He pulled out a dark red handkerchief and held it out towards you.

“It is clean, Sister, I promise.” He gave you a small smile again, forehead creased as he watched you with concern.

You couldn’t help the sad laugh that bubbled out of you at his statement, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you’ before using the soft fabric to pat your cheeks dry.

“I can see you cared quite a lot for this resident.” Copia’s voice was gentle as he watched you and you shrugged your shoulders, feeling small under his mismatched gaze. “No, do not...” He paused, trying to think of the right words. “You did, and that’s okay, Sorella. You’re allowed to be sad about his passing.”

You were fiddling with the now damp handkerchief, eyes still downcast towards your lap. It was silent between the two of you for a few moments before you furrowed your eyebrows, feeling something embroidered in the handkerchief.

“Ah, Y/N-..” 

You unfolded the fabric to find an upside down cross. It was different than your regular every day cross, it seemed to have a circle with it, almost making the upside down crucifix look like a G.

You felt your mouth go dry, face dropping as you studied at the embroidered cross. You could feel Copia’s eyes on you.

“...Father, why do you have this?” Your voice was quiet as you hesitantly looked over at the man next to you. You felt a twist in your lower abdomen at the sight of him looking at you. It seemed his white eye was almost glowing as he stared at you.

You could tell he was choosing his words carefully.

“You know, Sister,” he reached a gloved hand out towards you once more. He gave you enough time to pull your hands away if you did not want to be touched or held. You didn’t move.

Copia took your right hand as he turned more towards you on the floor, your left hand now holding the handkerchief and rosary. He took a breath before continuing. “I was sent to this church for you specifically.”

Your stomach dropped again. You weren’t sure how much more twisted it could get. “What? What do.. what do you mean?”

“My church sent me here for you,” He explained as if it were simple, “We had heard about you. The Sister that does not quite fit in. The Sister who wears her heart on her sleeve, who refuses to hurt another who does not follow the same faith or questions it- the Sister that those wavering in their faith go to knowing she will not judge.”

All of those things were true, yes, although you spent hours repenting against your sins of questioning. Your sins of unholy and sinful thoughts. The sin of thinking differently.

You felt warm under Copia’s gaze, your ears burning hot. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him.

“What faith do you practice, Father?” Your voice was quiet, hesitant. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer.

“I think you know, mia cara.” A gloved hand reached up towards your cheek, his thumb warm against your skin as he wiped your new tears away. His voice was as soft as the leather that made his black gloves. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch, subconsciously turning more towards him.

“You know, I am not even a priest?” His words brought you out of your daze and you blinked, looking up at Copia in confusion as he continued to rub your cheek with his thumb. “Sí, yes, it’s true. I’m a Cardinal in my church, higher up than your regular priest, I suppose. I guess you could say I was.. undercover?”

You were silent as Copia spoke, still watching him carefully but not daring to move. Even when admitting he was a worshiper of Satan he still made your chest swell with a feeling you of which you weren’t sure to call. The corner of your mouth twitched a bit in amusement at his words. Undercover.

“Yes, F-..” You took a stuttered breath. “Cardinal. I know what a Cardinal is. Most people do.”

“Twinge of a smile I see, signorina?” The Cardinal’s voice was still gentle, surprise evident in his tone. “Does this mean it will be easier to take you back with me than we thought?”

You felt your stomach twist again, your mouth going dry. Betray God? Eternal damnation? Sure, you had your own ideas about Heaven and Hell and your faith in general but you had kept them to yourself, scared to be outcast or worse. Except for when-

“Bible study.” You mumbled, realization dawning on you. “When you would..call me into your office. For Bible study.”

The man nodded, watching you curiously. “I wanted to know your true thoughts. You know, they are very similar to my church’s beliefs. I could see why they sent me here to recruit you.” He gave you a smile, thumb still brushing your drying cheek. “You had opened up easier for me than I thought you would, Sorella, considering I was still quite new.”

“And you never corrected me for my.. opinion.” You would be lying if you didn’t feel the slightest bit foolish for thinking he was just different than the others in the clergy.

Well, he was.

It was then you realized he had been inching closer to you during your conversation, that he was now facing you in the floor of the pew you two had been kneeling in, his face only a few inches from yours, free hand holding the back of the benched seat in front of the two of you. You swallowed as his gloved hand moved down from your cheek to the back of your neck, his hold on you still light, gentle, allowing you to pull away at any moment if you pleased.

Once again you didn’t move.

Copia watched you carefully before leaning forward, mouth near your ear. You could feel his breath against your skin and you tried to suppress the involuntary shiver that left you, heat pooling in your lower abdomen.

“Leave with me, dolcezza.” It was almost a command. The only one he had ever given you. You blushed at the pet name. “They will never know.” He leaned in closer, nose brushing against your ear. “Or maybe they would. Maybe they will think I took you, the strange new priest-” it came out as a quiet hiss, it was no question people were wary of his different characteristics and mannerisms- “or maybe they will think you seduced me and we left to be damned forever, together.”

It was almost as if on cue a bright light flashed throughout the church from the windows, followed a second later by a distant roar of thunder. Your free hand clutched Copia’s cassock at his words, the other that still held the handkerchief and rosary trembling. His hand on your neck tightened just so, enough for you to whimper and tilt your head to the side. A silent message of consent.

Copia inhaled deeply before he smiled, eyes squinting. “No one would hear us, Sister.” His voice was still quiet, followed by another flash of light and rumble of thunder from the storm brewing outside. “Not with the storm. And it’s dark enough in here, no? With just the candles?”

You turned your head to look at the Cardinal with wide eyes, your grip on his robes unwavering. Despite the smile his stare was intense, hungry, his white eye stark in the darkness.

Give in to the temptation? You could get up right now, go back to your room, pretend this never happened. Pray for forgiveness. The Satanic Cardinal would probably be gone by morning, disappearing into the night forever.

Or you could disappear with him.

“Our Lord loves a sinner, Sister. Celebrates it, really. Almost the whole point...” It was almost as if he read your racing thoughts. You felt your face flush warmer at his words. You hesitated a moment, your eyes taking a quick, sweeping glance around the empty chapel before you pulled Copia towards you and closed the gap, your mouth crashing against his.

You swore you heard him growl against your lips, the hand that was around your neck immediately taking a possessive hold on you. His mustache scratched against your upper lip and you dropped the handkerchief and rosary, your other hand coming up to cup his face as you opened your mouth to his prodding tongue.

A squeal left you as you fell back on your ass, the tile floor cold through your skirt. Your legs came back in front of you, the floor length skirt of your habit pooling around your thighs. You wrapped your legs around Copia’s waist best you could manage to, pulling him on top of you as you fell onto your back.

The man grunted against you as he tried to soften your drop to the floor before he pulled back, staring down at you with blown away look in his eyes.

“May I?” His hand that had been on the back of your neck reached up, tugging on your veil gently as if to accentuate his question.

You felt yourself hesitate. This was it. You were giving in. The faking and lying each day leading to this moment. You nodded, closing your eyes at the feeling of Copia pulling the fabric from your head, revealing your hair that was hidden underneath.

He was silent longer than you would have liked. You opened your eyes to find him still staring down at you, his jaw slack.

“You’re beautiful, mia cara.”

You blushed at his words, not sure how to respond. He smiled at your bashfulness, gloved hand cupping your cheek again, his other inching up your thigh and under your skirt.

“What do you say, Sister?” Copia leaned down over you, face nuzzling into your neck as his hand inched higher, more inward towards your core. He inhaled deeply as he reached your underwear, fingers stopping at the hem of the thin garment. “Will you give yourself to me?” His hand that was on your cheek was now holding himself up over you as he nipped at your skin. You shivered at the sensation, hands fisting in his cassock as you felt his fingers under your skirt continue to mess with the hem of your panties. “Betray your God in the name of Lucifer? Everything you’ve worked for?” It was almost a growl but nevertheless he waited for your answer, ready to pounce as soon as he knew you accepted your fate with him.

You found yourself breathing unevenly, eyes staring towards the dark ceiling in the dimly lit church, flashes of light from outside illuminating the beautiful craftsmanship every so often, followed by the loud boom or crackle of thunder.

You closed your eyes. “Yes.” It came out as a whisper.  

Your eyes snapped back open and a gasp tore itself from your throat as Copia bit down on the base of your neck as soon as you gave your answer, the man all but growling again as his hand pushed your underwear to the side. A gloved finger teased at your entrance, circling just so before he slowly pushed into you. You brought a hand up to your mouth to muffle your gasps, your eyes rolling back as Copia brushed against that sensitive spot inside of you.

Copia pulled away from your neck to look at your face, expression feral as he took you in under him, strands of hair falling into his face. He shuffled himself back onto his knees so he was kneeling before you, your legs spread wide for him as he continued his languid movements. His free hand brought one of your legs up, your ankle now near his head. He pressed a few wet kisses to whatever patch of skin of yours he could reach, groaning against your leg as he continued his slow movements with you.

“Oh, Satanas, you love a good orgasm, sí,” He watched with a darkened gaze as he pulled his hand from you, the finger and knuckles surrounding it wet on his glove, “this one will be a good one...”

He pressed another kiss to your leg, watching your face contort in pleasure as he added a second finger to you this time. Your arm was thrown over your mouth, muffling whimpers as you rolled your hips against the actions of his fingers.

Copia reached his free hand down, pulling your arm from your face. “I want to hear you, mia cara, He wants to hear.” It came out as a low growl, his white eye seemingly growing brighter in the dim room.

A whine tore itself from your throat as Copia pressed his thumb to your clit, your hands reaching above your head, trying to avoid covering your mouth.

It was then the sound of a door opening reached both of you, your eyes widening in fear. Copia cursed under his breath, quickly but carefully moving your leg before hurriedly leaning back over you. His fingers never halted their actions inside of you and you writhed a bit under him, your core clenching around the digits.

“I could have sworn they were in here, Father.” A voice echoed throughout the room and you clenched your eyes shut, hands re-tangling themselves in Copia’s robes. The Cardinal shushed you quietly, pressing a kiss to your cheek before a gloved hand clamped itself over your mouth.

Your eyes snapped open at the action and you watched him, your breathing becoming more labored as he continued his assault below.

“Perhaps they went to his office again. He’s been helping her with Bible study, Sister. You know she’s been struggling lately.”

Copia couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped his lips as he looked down at you under him, his thumb pressing against your clit once more as his fingers still worked inside of you, your mouth opening under his hand, “Yes, Bible study.” He murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose.

An involuntary moan tore itself from your throat, muffled against Copia’s glove as your hips continued to try to roll against his hand. The Cardinal grinned at your reaction before it faltered.

“What was that?”

A flash of light followed by the crash of thunder filled the building. You froze under Copia, the man above you stilling his actions.

“It’s windy outside, Father, I’m sure it’s just the old building.” The Sister responded, the man with her making a noise of uncertainty.

“I suppose. Come on, let’s make sure power is still on in the rest of the monastery.”

The two of you stayed still as you heard their footsteps come closer, Copia cursing under his breath, mismatched eyes darting in the direction they were coming from. You watched Copia with bated breath as you waited for them to pass by.

They passed down the aisle by the two of you without a passing glance, soon the slam of a door confirming their leave. You exhaled through your nose a sigh of relief, eyes rolling back as you all but deflated against the floor.

“Oh, amore, I for sure thought we’d be caught.” Copia’s words were soft, his hand leaving your mouth to tangle in your hair. He continued his movements inside of you now, a surprised whine tearing itself from your lips, no longer muffled by his hand.

You reached a hand up to grab Copia by the back of his neck, pulling his mouth to yours. “Please,” your words were muffled by the kiss and the man made a questioning noise. “Please, Cardinal..”

“Please what?” He pulled back to look down at you, expression expectant. “Use your words, what are you demands of me?”

You felt your stomach tighten at his words. You had never experienced anything like this before. His hand that had been fingering you below was now gripping your hip, fingers warm against your skin.

“I…” you found yourself flushing with embarrassment, face impossibly warm.

Copia’s expression softened. Your name fell from his lips sweetly. “I’m sorry, dolcezza, I know this is not easy for you. I shouldn’t be so… ah,” he sighed before leaning down, pressing a kiss to your cheeks, forehead, and then your lips. It was not missed by you that it was in the same pattern as crossing yourself before or after prayer- right, left, up, down.

You found yourself smiling a bit in amusement once more, although the sweet actions didn’t help alleviate the new, almost empty feeling ache between your legs. “Please, Copia,” you reached a hand up, fingers tangling in his hair as you scratched at his scalp. The man over you groaned at the feeling, forehead leaning against yours as his eyes fell shut. “Take me. I want you so badly, more than anything I’ve ever wanted, please-“

His eyes snapped open as your words became ones of begging, expression once again turning to one of a certain level of ferocity. He kissed you rather roughly, his hips now pressing against yours as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

You moaned into his mouth as the feeling of him against your center, hands reaching down to pull his cassock apart. Thankfully it was buttons, easy to snap open. Copia pulled back with a labored gasp, reaching down to undo his belt before he pushed his pants and boxers down. He reached a hand under your habit’s skirt and tore your panties from your body, the sound of tearing fabric filling the chapel.

It was then the Cardinal leaned back on his knees, eyes emotionless as he looked you over. You felt another drop in your stomach as he kept his gaze on you before you yelped as you were flipped, your stomach suddenly against the floor as you were pulled back to him by your legs. You were lifted onto your knees with ease and you shivered at the feeling of your habit’s skirt being pushed up over your ass, his fingers groping as he pushed the heavy fabric up to expose you, the skirt now pooling around your waist. You propped yourself up on your elbows, your face and neck burning in embarrassment at how exposed you were to him.

You heard him inhale behind you before the feeling of his hot breath exhaling over your wet core sent another shiver throughout your body. His teeth grazed the skin of one of your cheeks before he moved back, now lining himself up with you.

Your head dropped down against the old, tile floor as you waited for Copia, the man behind you letting out a deep chuckle.

“You’re patient, Sister.” His voice sounded different, another chill running through you. “More patient than I could ever be.” He ran himself along your wet folds before pressing himself into you, the man soon draping himself over you. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan as he bottomed out, your elbows sliding out from under you, causing your face and chest to be pressed against the cold tile.

Copia growled over you, his mouth soon finding your neck. He nipped at your skin rather harshly, mustache rubbing against you. “I want to hear you, amore.” It was another command, one of his hands reaching down in front of you and easily finding your clit.

A choked sound tore itself from your throat as he started to roll his hips against yours, his fingers working in time with his movements. You could feel his mouth moving against your neck, words you could not quite understand leaving his lips. It almost sounded like a prayer.

You couldn’t help the gasps and whimpers that tore themselves from you, your hips pressing back against Copia the best to your ability, the weight of him covering you overwhelming. His own gasps and moans reached your ears in-between the words he was murmuring. 

Soon another flash of lightning filled the chapel, followed by the loudest clap and crackle of thunder yet. A different chill ran up your spine, goosebumps raising along your skin.

You heard Copia growl against your neck again, his movements picking up pace. “Non soli sumus, soror.” He reached the hand that had been bracing himself over you up, pulling your hair back, forcing you to crane your neck to see him. His white eye was glowing and he craned his own head forward to capture your mouth in a sloppy kiss. He pulled back with a gasp, grin wicked. “He is here, Sorella, watching us. Watching me make you His, make you mine.”

Your cheek was pressed against the cold ground as Copia let go of your hair, eyes rolling back as you moaned, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the chapel between claps of thunder. Your fingers attempted to dig against the tile, desperate to hold onto something. A tension was building in your lower abdomen, your legs attempting to spread wider for Copia as his thrusts started to pick up pace.

A sob tore itself from your throat, involuntary tears sprouting from your eyes. “Yes,” You gasped, eyes falling shut, “Please, Copia- Cardinal, Father-” You started to babble as pleasure started to wash over you, your limbs trembling as you came undone under him. A sound between a sob and a cry wracked your body, legs shaking as Copia continued to ride you through your orgasm.

The man above you was soon bucking into you with abandon, a string of curses leaving his mouth before he bit down on your shoulder, his thrusts stuttering as he finished in you. He was still rubbing slow, tight circles on your clit as he stayed seated in you, your legs continuing to shake as you became overstimulated, more tears spilling down your cheeks and onto the tile below.

Copia shushed you quietly at the sound of your whines, his hand moving from your clit to caress the skin of your hip. “You’re okay, Sorella.” His voice was gentle now, breathless, a complete contrast to his tone earlier. “Bellissima, truly.” He was pressing kisses to any part of you he could reach, his arm now holding your hips up to him as your legs started to give out under you.

You laid limp under him, still catching your breath. You smiled at his sweet words, eyes falling shut as you felt both his and your releases start to drip from you and down the inside of your thighs. It was then you realized how slick with sweat you had become, parts of your habit sticking to your skin.

“Ah ah, don’t fall asleep on me now, Sister.” You heard Copia above you, the man gently pulling himself from you as he started to soften. You bit back the whimper that threatened to escape at the feeling, your hole now clenching around nothing.

He exhaled sharply as he looked down at you, gloved fingers spreading you apart to look at the mess he helped create.

“Cardinal.. Evening mass starts soon, we need to go.” You looked back at the man and he blinked, almost coming out of a daze.

“Y..yes, it is, isn’t it, Sister?” He sighed, looking you over one last time. “I wish we could stay right here a bit longer. It’s a beautiful sight.” He retracted his hands from you and pulled his pants and boxers up before he hurried closer to you, helping you sit up. “Do you need help back to your room, mia cara?”

You held onto Copia’s arm, face warming at the sight of your bruising knees. You nodded in response to his question, the man giving a small hum as he helped you stand. Once you were standing up stronger he helped you put your veil back on and fix your habit before you held his arm.

“Ope,” He moved away from you, grabbing your torn underwear from under a seat before shoving them into his cassock’s pocket, “can’t leave those there, can we, Sorella?” He gave you a small smile, hand patting yours as you retook his arm to help resteady yourself.

You couldn’t help the snorted laugh that left you, your first few steps a bit unsteady as the two of you began to walk towards the main doors of the chapel. “No, Copia.” You agreed, amusement evident in your voice.

Copia shared your laugh, his other hand holding yours that held onto his arm. He opened the door for the both of you and you looked up at the sky as you stepped outside, your eyebrows furrowing. It was perfectly clear, stars twinkling in the night sky. The only evidence there was a storm was the smell of rain that filled your senses, and the certain crispness in the air.

“The storm is gone.” Your voice held confusion, your grip tightening on Copia’s arm as the two of you started to walk through the courtyard.

“Hm? Yes.” He smiled down at you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. He frowned at your creased brow. “Amore, you did not think it was a real storm, did you?”

You opened your mouth to respond before you blushed once again that evening. “Oh.”

Copia’s smile returned and he stopped once the two of you had reached the middle clearing of the large courtyard. It was surrounded by tall shrubs, mostly used by those wishing to sit outside and have a moment of peace or privacy. He glanced around before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

You made a noise as he pulled away, eyes growing wide. “Copia!” You hissed, looking around the hidden clearing.

The man smiled, mismatched eyes squinting as he looked down at you. He pressed another kiss to your cheek before continuing down the pathway towards where your dorm was located. “You know, I quite like the sound of my name coming from you.”

You felt a tug in your chest at his admission, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “You know, I quite like the sound of mine from yours as well, Cardinal.” You whispered his title, the sound of him chuckling warming your heart, “I suppose that’s one of the ways you won me over.”

“Oh? Just that?” He hummed, turning towards you as the two of you reached the main door of your dormitory. “Nothing else?”

You shrugged, allowing yourself to drop Copia’s arm as your smile grew. “Nothing comes to mind.”

Copia laughed before he returned your smile, his gaze soft as he looked down at you. He sighed after a moment, a gloved hand reaching up to brush a piece of your hair that had slipped from your veil. You frowned a bit at his change in demeanor and you crossed your arms as a breeze blew past the two of you, a chill running up your once sweaty spine.

“If you would still like to join me, meet me here before morning mass tomorrow. While it is still dark.” His voice was soft, only for you to hear. “Or, if you wish, you can stay. I will be gone and respect that decision you made, Sister.”

You felt your knees grow weak, that nervous twist in your stomach from earlier returning.

“I see you are still nervous.” His tone was cool, as if he were trying to protect himself.

“I am.” You looked down at your crossed arms and you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, a blush crossing your cheeks at the feeling of the sticky mess between your legs. “But I am a nervous person.” You looked back up, giving Copia a small smile. “I will see you in the morning, Cardinal.”

You hesitated a moment before you leaned up on your toes, pressing a kiss to Copia’s cheek as a silent promise, not caring who might see. The man’s shoulders seemed to sag in relief, and he returned your smile. 

“Goodnight, Copia.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He gave your hand one final squeeze before turning to leave, heading back towards the chapel. He paused, glancing back at you. “I will let them know you and I had a private session so they don’t come looking for you.” 

You stifled a giggle, bringing your hand to your mouth. The two of you shared one final smile before you turned to go inside the building, realization now hitting you. 

You had to pack if you were going to go with the Cardinal. 

[spectralmagpie]

Added a crappy edited bg and some silly little lighting attempts 🫠

Please just let the man have his gloves so he can perform his retired anti-pope duties

[ghostchems]

longing - papa emeritus iv x f!reader

at a certain moment during a performance, copia thinks of you.

a/n: the mic holder fingering will always be in my thoughts. 1.1k words. fingering, obviously. 18+! mdni! ao3 link.

He had done it again.

Every night he loses himself, a brief moment where his mind wanders off beyond the crowd, beyond the crushing responsibility of furthering the the Clergy agenda. Copia thinks of you. He closes his eyes and feels the music, drawing in a sharp gasp as his hand drifts up the mic stand. You’re so far away back at headquarters with your own duties. It hurts for him to be away this long. He misses how soft you feel in his arms, how you laugh at his really dumb jokes and the more suggestive sounds you make when he touches you in just the right spot.

Copia’s finger pushes into the mic holder and fingers it, eyes squeezed shut and lips parting at the thought of it being between your legs. The roar of the crowd brings him back down to earth, back down to the moment. Eyes shoot open and he wrenches his finger from the mic stand, a mix of shock and disgust on his face. He’s learned to play it up because of how often it happens. He thrives in front of a crowd but after being away so long he yearns to be back in your bed, buried under the covers with an old movie on the tv. A quick turn and he’s marching back off stage with the ghouls wrapping up the song.

Long, slow exhale as he walks up to the golden mirror, taking a moment to regard himself. He smoothes out his jacket and fidgets with his cravat when he’s distracted by a figure in the mirror behind him. A gasp! And then he gives noises that can only be described a Copia noises when he realizes it’s you. Oh, it’s you. He’s on you so quickly, boney arms wrapped around you and pulling you in close. Heart is pounding in his chest as he continues making excited noises until the words finally come out.

“I was just thinking of you.” Copia is breathless, burying his face in your hair to drink in your scent. How he missed you so. He’s nearly trembling, overcome with deep love and affection for you.

“You’re doing so great, Copia.” You whisper and hug him back just as tight. “I… I don’t want to distract you, though. I can wait in the wings until you’re done for the night.” He feels you start to move away from him but he tightens his grip to keep you firmly in place.

“Nononono. Stay here.” Copia runs a gloved hand through your hair. “I eh, have some time.” He leans back to look at you and my god, does it stir something primal and deep inside of him. Thoughts flit back to the mic stand. “I have something to show you, actually.” He hums and takes you by the arms and pulls you off into a dark corner of backstage. His heart pounds in his chest. There’s not much time but he can’t let this moment with you slip away. Once he has you out of view his mouth finds your earlobe, catching it with his teeth as his hands desperately paw at your clothes.

“P-papa!” You squeal as his lips travel down your neck.

“Shhh-shhh, amore. They mustn’t hear us.” Copia huffs and nips just below your jaw. You gasp as his hand slips down the front of your pants and he takes a breath to lean back, taking in your wide eyes and how your breath quickens with a groan. You are so delicious he can hardly stand it. “I’ve longed for you. Every night I think of you, wishing I could touch you again.” His voice cracks and he presses his forehead to yours. You’re speechless. Copia’s fingers toy with the hem of your underwear, humming in approval at the wetness that pools through the thin fabric. He pushes the fabric aside and slips a finger inside your slick folds.

Your mouth drops open in a low groan that Copia quickly swallows with his own lips. Both sighing together, with him peppering you with slow, deliberate kisses as he works another finger inside. He stretches you open and sinks his fingers as deep as he can, languid strokes that make your toes curl in your shoes. You want to cry out, to moan and huff but you can’t — you can see some movement behind him, the stage crew doing their jobs of moving equipment and instruments. Copia’s other hand snatches you by the chin and forced you to look into his eyes.

“Stay with me, amore.” He hisses against your lips before claiming them with a fiery, possessive kiss. Tongue invades your mouth, drinking in all of your sighs and moans. He thrusts his fingers inside of you at a rough pace, curling them once they’ve sank in as far as they’ll go. Your knees start to buckle, core impossibly tense from how he tears you into pieces. Nails dig into his black jacket, gasping into his mouth while half-lidded eyes meet his mismatched gaze. A growl rumbles up from Copia’s throat. He loves seeing you like this, utterly under the spell of his skillful fingers.

“I-I’m here.” You choke out, breaking away from the kiss but tugging him in closer so that your noses touch.

"Va bene." Copia whispers back, his voice a soothing balm over your senses. His fingers continue their relentless rhythm, drawing you ever closer to the precipice. Your breath hitches, body trembling as he coaxes you towards a shattering release. The world narrows down to just the two of you, lost in each other, hidden in the chaos backstage. Heat rushes to your face and spreads throughout your body until it’s too much to take. Your body convulses and a shattered cry falls from your lips, your climax overtaking you. He groans in approval, pressing slow kisses to your temple and then down your cheek before ending with one unbelievably tender kiss to your lips.

“I must return to the stage, amore.” Copia muses as he pulls his fingers from you. He brings them to his nose, taking a long whiff of the heady scent before licking the slick off his gloves. “I am… so happy you are here.” You see that twinkle in his eyes that made you fall hard for him in the first place. He cups your face, thumbs stroking along your cheekbones to soothe you from your high. You take him by the wrist, a shuddered breath leaving your lips.

“Burgers after?” You manage to crack a smile between huffs. His face lights up and he pulls you in for a warm hug.

“Burgers and fries, baby.” Copia plants one last kiss to your cheek and gives you a squeeze before skipping off to back to the stage.

[da-rulah]

Come Home to Me - Secondo x f!reader

Summary: No one ever thought to question why Papa Emeritus II was such a bitter man. People assumed it was a product of his upbringing, of the pressures being an Emeritus brought him. But they had no idea that years ago, he was a completely different man. A man that you so easily fell in love with... 

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 10.3k (can I EVER write anything short?)

Warnings: MAJOR ANGST. jealous themes, themes of abandonment, poor childhood, mentions of alcohol addiction, domestic fights, anger, hurt, mild violence, bad break-up, description of panic attack, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v sex 

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

Secondo doesn't get anxious.  

At least, that's what people would think to look at him; the burly, scary, angry looking Papa who would practically glide through the hallways of the Ministry he headed. And to look at him now, today, people wouldn't suggest anxiety be the baseline emotion for him either. But it certainly was; masked by a particularly foul mood, but it was definitely anxiety.  

Because he'd just heard from his elder brother, that you were returning to the Ministry. 

It had been years since he'd seen you; he'd been a Cardinal then. He'd always been a hardened man, bitter from his childhood of neglect and abuse at the hands of his deadbeat father, but... you had been the softness to balance him out. Until he'd fucked that all up, as he was always destined to do. He always knew his fiery temper would fuck him over someday.  

And he'd been right.... 

8 Years Ago. 

"You can't go," he told you firmly, no hint at all that he was willing to compromise on this.  

"Secondo, please..." you tried to reason with him, "I have to! This is my job!"  

Secondo chewed on the inside of his cheek, shaking his head as he looked down at his gloved fingers picking wool bobbles from his cassock. He stood awkwardly across from you in his quarters, letting you hover near the door as if you weren't welcome in here. The atmosphere felt cold, frosty even.  

"You know, it's really rather telling that you would rather go swanning off on some tiny little tour of Europe with mio fratello than stay by my side," he rages, "This new little project of his is bound to fail, you know. It did for our father, it will for him."  

Frankly, you were dumbfounded by the idea he thought you'd prefer to spend time with Primo than him. Of course you didn't, but you had no choice. Your job at Primo's side was an important one and not exactly negotiable. Secondo had never mentioned any form of jealousy before now, so why on earth would he bring that up if not just out of sheer spite? 

"Ah, your silence says all. You know what? Go. Go ahead. But do not expect me to wait for you, Sorella."  

"W-what... what do you mean?" you asked, tears welling up in your eyes.  

"You want to disappear for months on end with Primo? Fine. But I have needs, and I cannot be expected to wait for your return. I will not become some idiota with blue balls because his girlfriend is too busy fucking his fratello in another country."  

"You really think... what the fuck is wrong with you?!" you shrieked. How dare he. "Secondo, if you loved me at all you wouldn't even think of doing such a thing. And you'd trust me enough to know I would never!"  

Secondo scoffed, turning in his place and heading towards the small liquor cabinet he kept in the corner of the living space. He wrenched open the door and pulled out a bottle of whiskey along with a tumbler, and poured himself a small drink.  

You stood and watched him, tears now silently trickling from your eyes. You couldn't understand why he was reacting like this. You'd been happily in a relationship for almost ten years, celebrated so much together. But ever since he became a Cardinal, he'd been overworked, stretched thin by the clergy and reminded consistently that he was only second best to his eldest brother. Secondo by name, Secondo by nature, he had confided in you numerous times. He had a bitter side to him, you knew that. It had been present his entire life, a product of a neglectful childhood.  

But he'd never, not once, projected that side onto you. Until becoming a Cardinal, slowly imploding on himself at the weight of the pressure put on him.  

"It's one way to establish yourself, I'll give you that. Quicker than sleeping with a mere Cardinal, eh?" he chuckled, devoid of humour and instead laced with venom. Had he... really just insinuated that?  

"You don't mean that." 

"Do I not?" he asked, arching an eyebrow with a vile smirk. He quickly necked the drink in his hand, hissing at the burn of it down his throat that he'd come to relish more and more lately. He was soon pouring himself another.  

"My job requires me on this tour. It's eight weeks, Secondo. That's all. Sister Imperator said-" 

You were interrupted by a sudden smash - Secondo had thrown his half full glass against the far wall of his living space. It splintered into shards, leaving a splatter against the fading wallpaper. You felt droplets of it hit your arm, a few splinters of glass reaching too without harm. You flinched naturally anyway, both at the sudden noise and the feeling on your skin.  

"I DON'T CARE WHAT IMPERATOR SAID! IF YOU LOVED ME AS YOU SAY YOU DO, YOU WOULD STAY WITH ME. BY MY SIDE. NOT HIS!" he screamed, storming towards you and grabbing your arms by your sides. You stiffened in fear - he'd never laid a hand on you before. "You say you love me, and yet, you abandon me."  

"N-no... I'm not-" you were shaking in his grasp, your eyes wide and words failing you.  

"If you go, I will never forgive you."  

You stared at him, your reddened eyes wide with fear and desperation. You were stuck... You had to go, you had no choice. Being fired from your job would mean the end of your residency at the Ministry and you would lose everything. But go, and you lose Secondo.  

He was overreacting, and you weren't sure why. Did he truly believe you were trying to sleep your way to a top seat within the clergy? Did he really think you'd run off with Primo, given the chance?  

"I... I love you..." you whimpered, voice shaking and quiet as your lip trembled. His piercing monochrome eyes searched yours, waiting for you to tell him you'd stay. But you couldn't. The Ghost Project needed you, and Primo needed you. You had no choice, but he couldn't see it that way.  

Without a word, he shoved you backwards, letting you stumble to keep your balance as he stepped back, picking up the open bottle of whiskey from where he'd left it.  

"Just go," he snarled, taking a drink from the bottle, before storming into his bedroom and slamming the door, your body jolting from the sound as you stood and broke down on the spot.  

Not going, you would lose everything. But going... you had lost him. 

Those eight weeks on the road were hell - and not the Hell you had been promised.  

Secondo hadn't spoken a word to you after you'd told him you were going. Your relationship was over the second he slammed that bedroom door. You spent any down time you had hiding from the world, crying into the last scrap of his clothing you had snuck from his things that still smelled like him.  

You would wonder constantly what had changed in him, why suddenly he couldn't see past his bitterness and had thought so little of you. He had ignored your phone calls, your letters... He had stewed in his anger and his growing alcohol dependency, buried his sorrows in anyone who would consent, and driven himself into the ground until his younger brother, Terzo, had decided enough was enough and harshly forced him to face his reality. 

But it was too late. 

As soon as you had come back from your first tour with The Ghost Project, you had put a request in for a transfer to an Abbey across the country. You had been hurt too badly, the thought of having to see Secondo in the halls, leading sermons, hosting seminars had burned in your chest. Primo had tried to talk you out of it, but your mind was made up and solidified only by the look of dismissal Secondo gave you when he'd seen your face for the first time during Mass.  

The grief you felt was not only for your relationship, but the man you once knew and loved so deeply. He wasn't him anymore; and you couldn't watch him live in indifference while you were so incredibly heartbroken.  

Within a week of your request, you were packed up and on a bus to a much smaller, more quaint Abbey in the midwest, where you would help to lead a congregation as a Sister of elevated importance.  

Over time, your wounds healed. You dated, albeit in brief stints. You devoted yourself to the church and rose in the ranks of your own volition - not because you had opened your legs to a Papa or higher ranking clergy member, as had been predicted by your former lover. 

You were doing well, focussed on you and your congregation.  

Secondo, however, had never been the same since you left. 

As if he wasn't already an angry and bitter man, he became insufferable in the years following your departure. Sure enough, Terzo's intervention had managed to quell the alcoholism, but it had done nothing for the anger that consistently simmered at surface level at his father, his brothers, his childhood... but mostly at himself.  

He'd never been able to forgive himself for the way he had treated you; the only good thing he had ever had in his life, and he managed to torture you slowly, like a child plucking the wings from a butterfly before delivering the final blow. Even when he'd seen you for the first time after the tour, he couldn't look you in the eye.  

Then he'd never seen you again.  

Now that Primo had told him you were coming back, your latest promotion to the highest ranking sibling beneath Sister Imperator herself bringing you back to the Ministry and the headquarters of the Satanic Church, he was petrified.  

He wanted to run. He wanted to hide. Given the option, he'd abdicate from his position with immediate effect and live out the remainder of his days in a cabin in the Italian Apennines. But that wasn't an option, and he had to face this.  

He had to face you.  

Sister Imperator had called a meeting of the higher Clergy to welcome you back, and to explain your place in the Ministry to those you'd be working closely with. That included Papa Secondo.  

Papa.  

When you'd first heard that news, you couldn't help the small smile that had tugged at your lips. He'd always wanted that title, always deserved it. You were happy for him, glad to see that he was where he rightfully should be.  

But when you saw him for the first time in that meeting room, sat in his chair at the head of the table, that happiness had dissipated. Fear and dread had filled you, a pain in your chest you thought you'd got over long ago. But the scowl on his face told you the feelings he had toward you were still just anger, spite, bitterness. And no matter how much time you'd had to heal, that scar still pulsated and burned in you.  

You remained professional, hardened much like Imperator. You had to be. If you showed him how weak he still made you feel, your authority might be brought into question. You'd worked too hard for that. 

As the meeting adjourned, the table got up to leave and you along with it, until you heard his deep and commanding voice from the end of the table.  

"Sorella _______, I ask you stay for a moment."  

You froze, too frightened too look back at him, too weak to tell him no. Primo and Terzo, who had both been sat on the opposite side of the table to you, shared a look that read as 'oh, shit...' before their glares fell on their brother. Secondo ignored them, shooing the rest of the clergy out of the doors.  

Nobody said a word, simply leaving quickly and quietly until you were alone with Papa. 

A moment of silence passed between you both; Secondo had so much he wished to say to you, so many apologies and regrets he'd practised so often in the last eight years but they all vanished when your eyes fell on his. He saw the fear in them; it reminded him of that night. 

"I... It's... You look well." 

That was it? That was all he could say to you?  

You drew in a deep breath, allowing yourself a second of composure before clasping your hands together in front of you and masking your disappointment and hurt with a business-like demeanour. 

"As do you." 

"How have you been?" he asks, although it's cold and merely to fill a silence.  

"Busy. Yourself?" you mimic his tone; you'd rather be anywhere but here right now. 

"Troppo (me too)." 

You nodded. "Congratulations. 'Papa'... what you always wanted," you forced a smile, gesturing at the robes and mitre he adorned.  

"Ah, sí, sí..." he kicked at the titles at his feet, shuffling as he stared down at them awkwardly. "Sorella, I-" 

"It was good to see you, Papa," his head snapped up at the use of his title, it sounding foreign and wrong coming from you. "Now if you'll excuse me..." you dismissed yourself, bowing your head to him slightly and gathering your notebook and pen before making your way out of the meeting room. Secondo stared after you, lost with his apology he'd finally found and mustered up the courage to deliver still dangling from the tip of his tongue.  

Re-familiarising yourself with the Ministry's halls was hardly needed as you traipsed through them late into the evening. But that had just been an excuse...  

In fact, what you were truly doing was torturing yourself with the ghosts of a past life. It was as if you could see them, plain as day; the ghostly figures of a young and fresh faced Sister of Sin with a smile that beamed so bright, and of a young Bishop, his face free of deep set wrinkles and the permanent scowl the world knew today.  

They run through the halls ahead of you, hand in hand. Her laughter bounces from the stone walls as he tries to shush her, stifling his own laughs and the grin across his face. You followed them, chasing the memory through the halls.  

Rounding the corner, they stop outside of a door. The young Bishop pulls the Sister close to him, tumbling back into the doorframe with a thud and another string of stifled giggles. His palm caresses her cheek, a look of pure adoration in his mismatched eyes before he leans in, pressing his lips to hers as she melts into his embrace against the door.  

He reaches behind him, turning the doorknob and the two spectres disappear through the wood, the door remaining closed and leaving you alone in the empty corridor.  

You kept staring after them, tears heavy and building in your waterline. Your hands trembled at your sides, a nauseous feeling settling in your stomach as you remembered so clearly the night those ghosts ran through the halls together, spending their first night alone and in each other's arms in secret.  

From what you knew, he still lived in the same suite. The door you stared at still belonged to him, and the likelihood was he was in there right now. 

A part of you ached to talk to him. You wanted to know what had changed him all those years ago, still craving answers to questions long since forgotten. But part of you knew it was a conversation not worth having; after all, what good would it do now? 

Footsteps echoed from the opposite end of the end hall, stomping on the stone as they drew closer. You ducked behind the corner, barely peeking from your hiding spot as Secondo drew closer to his quarters, that scowl still etched onto his face when he pulled his keys from a pocket beneath his robes. Before unlocking the door, he hesitated, pressing his forehead to the wood and shutting his eyes to take a deep breath. 

You allowed yourself a better view, peering out from the corner to take in the look of exhaustion, of sadness on his features as he leaned against his door. Pain seared through your chest, flashbacks of that exact expression from years ago flooding your memory, from times where the world would get on top of him and threaten to crush his shoulders with the weight they added.  

You were the only thing that could comfort him then. Nothing else would work – you wondered what he did these days to ease the ache. Little did you know, nothing could.  

He’d mask it well, yes, and attempt to bury it deep down beneath layers of a personality that wasn’t totally his, but the fact remained he was still just so sad beneath it all.  

Secondo straightened himself up with a deep breath, and pushed the key into the door turning to unlock it. You sighed quietly to yourself and turned to leave out of sight, but Secondo stiffened, his head whipping around to the corner where he caught the back of your head as you turned. He’d heard that sigh, known who it belonged to instantly.  

“________?” he asked, his voice softer than you’d have expected, like anything above a whisper would have you darting down the corridor never to be seen again.  

You froze in place, aware he can now see you but unable to move. You don’t want to face him. You don’t want to run from him.  

“Wait, don’t... don’t go,” he whispered; something he wishes he’d said to you the day you’d left the Ministry instead of hiding in a pit of his own self-loathing and self-pity. He thinks you’re going to run; but you can’t. You’re just... stuck. 

He doesn’t know what to do, just staring at the back of your head as his heart rate raises and his breath quickens. He’s panicking; he knows that. He’d learned what a panic attack was in the days after you’d left the Ministry; like a heart attack.  

You heard him behind you, the sound of his panic as words failed him. Your head whipped around to see him stood there, clutching his robes over his chest as he stared wide eyed at you. You’d never seen him like this, and it frightened you.  

“S-Secondo? Are you... are you alright?” you asked, rushing to his side on instinct, yet stopping yourself just a few feet away from him with your hands outstretched. You weren’t sure if you should touch him, if you should cross the boundary that not only he, but you had put up so long ago. 

“C-can’t... can’t breathe...” he panted, leaning against the stone doorway and squeezing his eyes shut.  

Get him inside, make him comfortable, your inner voice told you. You looked to the side, seeing his keys still dangling in the lock and turned them for him, pushing open the door to an empty and cold apartment that sent such a wave of nostalgia through you it could have knocked you clean onto your ass. But you shook it off, reaching for Secondo’s shoulder and gently guiding him through the door.  

“Sit down,” you instructed softly, reaching for the light switch behind you, your arm working on muscle memory alone. You didn’t have to think about it, no time in the current predicament. Secondo stumbled to the couch, sitting down with a thump and leaning back into the pillows while you shut the door and made your way over to the kitchen.  

Reaching for the cupboard you knew had glasses in – nothing had been changed since the day you’d left – you picked one out to fill with water, then coming down to his level and kneel at his feet to remove any feel of intimidation standing before him would have brought.  

“Secondo, hey...” you caught his attention, his white eye opening to look at you through his lashes. “Can you sit up for me?”  

He took in a deep lungful of breath and sat himself upright, his forearms coming to rest on his knees as he hunched over. His breathing was erratic – some deep and long, some short and staccato. He was trying desperately to regain control, to not come across as weak in front of you but he feared you being in front of him was truly the reason he was so breathless.  

He always did used to say you took his breath away... 

“Here, drink.” You held up the glass in front of him. He stared at it for a moment, his eyes still wide and panicked. “Papa, please...” 

“Don’t... D-don't call... me that...” he told you, but he didn’t sound angry. He sounded tired, mostly, between the panicked breaths. You chose not to argue for the time being.  

“I’m sorry... Still, drink. It'll help,” you promised, raising the glass again.  

He took it from you, gulping a third of the glass down and swallowing with a loud exhale. The irregular pattern calmed considerably, the cold of the water cooling the heat that had risen to his face and chest in his panic.  

“Good... See? It helps. Now just... breathe with me, okay? Copy what I do,” you told him, taking in a deep breath and counting to four in your head as you did so. He copied you, no questions asked, no arguments; just breathing in as you did. After four, you slowly began to exhale, counting to eight this time. He copied you again, his exhale a little shaky as if his lungs were clawing at his exhale, trying desperately to hold it in.  

You repeated the pattern a few times, holding eye contact the whole time. He seemed to be searching for something in your face, any hint of hatred, anger, resentment... but nothing. His panic eased when all he found was concern, and the same softness he remembered so fondly. Able to find no negativity in your expression, he could relax and give your breathing technique the room to work and calm him down.  

“Mi dispiace. I... I don’t know what came over me,” he says, embarrassment and sadness in his tone. He wanted to hide again, staring down at the glass in his hands instead of at you, sitting quietly and awkwardly on your knees in front of him.  

“No, it’s... fine. I’m just glad you’re alright,” you smile awkwardly, shuffling back and standing, dusting the non-existent dust from your knees. “I’ll see myself out,” you said, turning around to leave, “Just rest for the eveni-”  

You stopped dead in your tracks, your eyes focussed on the wall by the front door.  

The wallpaper had never been changed in all those years, the colour of the pattern worn and yet, there were small rips in the paper, tiny grooves carved into the wall and a very distinctive faded brown stain.  

Your eyes zeroed in on it immediately. It wasn’t particularly large, or even that dark against the wallpaper but you couldn’t help but notice, and your chest tightened. 

“Ah, I uh... have been meaning to redecorate,” Secondo chuckled from the couch behind you, with no humour at all. His tone was different to earlier that day in the meeting room; that cold indifference had vanished, as if the curtain had fallen and his mask had dropped. He was too weak to put up a front, too tired of playing the resentful scary Papa character. 

You turned to look at him, a slight look of pity mixed with something akin to longing that he tried to ignore for his own sanity. It would do him no good to delude himself into thinking you might have missed him as much as he had missed you in the last eight years. 

“But then... I suppose it served as a reminder,” he shrugs, averting your gaze and taking another sip of water where he sat.  

“Of what?” you asked, fragility to your voice. Secondo sighed, meeting your eyes again.  

“The biggest mistake I ever made.” 

An uncomfortable silence settled between you, his eyes watching you closely as you shuffled in your spot.  

“Do you... get panic attacks often?” you asked, trying to divert attention away from that conversation. You weren’t sure if you were ready to have that just yet, if ever. Why cut into a healed scar? 

“Not anymore, but... I used to. After you left,” he said matter-of-fact, no hint of accusation at all. “It used to start as shortness of breath like this,” he waved his hand in the air to illustrate his point, “but eventually, I suppose, I had to learn to breathe without you.” 

Tears welled in your waterline, and you had to look down at the toes of your boots to flush them away.  

“I’m truly, so incredibly sorry, amore mio...” he whispered, willing you to look at him, to hear him finally say what he’s wanted to for years.  

“W-we don’t have to... do this...” you stuttered, holding back a sob as a tear fell to the floor where you stared at your feet. Hearing him call you that again... If you weren’t careful, it would consume you. Secondo didn’t miss your tear, his chest tightening when it hit the floor. 

“No, per favore... Let me say this, I need to get this out,” he begs, standing to move towards you, his hands outstretched like he wanted to take yours in them, to hold onto you as he apologised. You whipped your hands from in front of you and took several steps back. 

“That’s not fair,” you scolded, “you need to get this out? What, to clear your conscience? So you can feel better?” you accused. Your anger wasn’t unwarranted, he knew that. But he could see how much what he’d done had affected you – still affected you. The guilt ate him alive. It would always eat him alive, no matter how many times he apologised. 

“No, I just... I didn’t want to hurt you, I want to make it right!” he pleaded. You shook your head with a smile at his audacity. 

“Make it right? Now? After eight years?” you scoffed. 

“Well okay if I can’t make it right, just... bearable. Per favore, amore mio!” The nickname slipped from his lips without thought; it still felt natural to him. You were still his ‘love’ after all – you never stopped being that. But hearing it again for the second time that evening was like the venomous sting of a scorpion’s tail to your heart.  

“Stop calling me that, you lost that right,” you cried, having to bite your tongue from unleashing all of your anger, all of your hurt on him.  

“I... I know. Mi scusi...” he quietened his voice, looking down at his hands in shame. His shift in demeanour stunned you into silence, your chest heaving with uneven breaths as you calmed yourself from the point of near-eruption. “You should be angry at me.” 

You scoffed at his audacity. “Thank you for your permission,” you spat.  

“Where do we go from here?” he asked, looking up to meet your eyes finally. His looked strained, tired. Even disguised by the paint, he seemed weary and frail. “Can I say anything at all?” 

You mulled it over in your mind, running in circles. Was there anything he could say? Would you listen to anything right now, or were you too riled up to care about his excuses? The younger you, the you who loved him so deeply all those years ago was dying to get the answers she craved. She reached out to you from your past life, desperate for closure, just to understand no matter what those answers were. 

“You can tell me why.” 

Secondo’s brow furrowed. “W-why?”  

He seemed scared, like he hadn’t expected this but how could he not? What was the point in him apologising if neither he nor you knew why he was apologising, what his 'sorry’ was for? 

“Yes. Tell me why. Tell me why you suddenly thought so little of me, that you genuinely believed I would try to sleep my way to the top. Tell me why you were so adamant I was choosing your brother over you. Tell me why you turned into a bitter and twisted shell of the cardinal I adored. Tell me why you chose the bottle over me when you came home at night. Tell me why you ever doubted how completely, soul-destroyingly in-fucking-love with you I was!” you screamed at him, getting louder and louder with each passing syllable and pointing an accusatory finger at him as tears of rage freely flowed down your cheeks.  

“Because it was easier!” he yelled back, meeting your gaze, “It was easier than watching you leave with him! I was jealous, sí, because everybody always chose Primo. Ever since I became a Cardinal, I was told that was as far as I could go, that was it for me! Primo was the golden boy, he was Papa, he was going to find a wife, have a kid and that kid would be Papa and where would that leave me? Cast aside, again, as always! Fuck, even Terzo got more attention for his damn looks than I ever got for my hard work, my devotion!” 

You shrugged and stared at him incredulously as he yelled. “Why was any of that my fault?” you screeched. 

“B-because you... you were choosing him too!” his chest heaved, and for the first time ever you saw tears in his eyes too, glinting off the light of the room. “I needed you, ______. You were the only one who saw me for who I was, and you chose him too!” 

You tried to protest in anger, shaking your head and taking a step towards him to defend yourself but he continued before you got the chance. 

“Nihil... he always said I would never be Primo. But as Cardinal, I was expected to do everything for him. I lived in his shadow every... fucking... day. It drove me mad...” he looked up at the ceiling as he screamed through grit teeth, trying to let gravity defy the building tears, “And then Papa was to go on tour again, to bring back the Ghost project and perform for thousands of adoring followers and I was to sit here and wait for the only person I’ve ever loved to forget me and fall for him like the rest of the masses...” He was sobbing in anger now, forgetting the fight against the onslaught of waterworks and giving in to the pain he felt.  

“I never... I never thought you slept with him. Not really,” he admitted. “But I was told over and over it was only a matter of time... And I believed them. So, you ask me why? Because it was easier to believe you had already fallen under his spell and remove myself from the equation, than to watch it happen while I was still by your side.” 

You were stunned into silence, watching the man you believed for the last eight years had become void of emotion spill every single one he’d buried spill from him. He’d never told you any of this, not once expressed any resentment to his elder brother. And Nihil... you wanted to ring that old man’s neck. 

“I just... I got lost, amore. The more I drank, the worse it got. The bigger the disappointment,” he’d stopped shouting at you, his voice strained and quiet, “You started to hate me, and I took it as proof of my suspicions that you would someday leave. And then when you did...” his voice cracked, the words sticking in his throat. He sank to sit on the edge of the couch, defeated and weak. He removed his mitre and held his head in his hands, quietly sobbing with cloudy black tears from his makeup dripping to the floor. 

You stood awkwardly playing with your fingers, wiping your own tears away with the back of your hand as they fell. Your lip trembled holding back a breakdown. Now, you were beginning to understand the weight of the responsibility he’d bared back then, of the pain of his dismissal and rejection throughout his life. It still hurt you deeply that he couldn’t see past it to know you would never have chosen anyone over him – but at least you understood. 

“Terzo got me clean after you left,” he said, sniffling and raising his head but still unable to look you in the eye. Instead, his gaze focussed in on the corner of the room, at where the liquor cabinet used to sit. You followed his eyes and noticed it wasn’t there anymore, now an empty corner he’d never filled with anything else. “But it took a long time. I knew what I’d done, but... I didn’t want to face it. I’ve been so angry at myself, amore. Angry at everyone, but never at you.” He looked you in the eye then, “it was never your fault.” 

“No, non è vero, fottuto idiota, (no, it wasn’t, you fucking idiot,)” you seethed, taking a deep breath and shaking your head. Secondo chuckled humourlessly. Oh, how he’d missed you scolding him in Italian. 

“Sí, sí... fottuto idiota,” he sighed, dragging his palms down his face and smearing his tears with his paints. He looked down at his gloves, smeared with grey stains where the white mixed with the black, and he chuckled again. “Sono un disastro, no? (I am a mess, no?)” he said, holding his hands up briefly for you to see the mess before he removed both gloves, dropping them to the couch beside him. You scoffed again, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips; but you hid it from him, looking down at your feet again. “In more ways than one, I have always been a mess. But it was never your job to clean that mess up.” 

“Didn’t stop me from wanting to,” you told him. You looked up again, now that the almost-smile had faded, “I loved you more than you ever realised.” 

Secondo nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. “My biggest regret is not seeing that at the time. I’ll never know love like that again...” 

You tilted your head to the side in pity, scanning the man before you who looked and sounded so much more broken than you could have imagined. You had no idea this was affecting him still to this day, no clue that the angry persona you’d left behind hadn’t just created a bitter old man who’d forgotten what he was bitter at – he was, in fact, bitter and angry toward himself. He’d never forgiven himself.  

But how could he? How could he ever forgive himself for what he’d put you through, for treating you like he did. He was disgusted by himself, but in true Emeritus fashion, he didn’t know how to deal with his emotions, and it spiralled out of control. This was his personality now, a figurehead to be terrified and intimidated by.  

You remembered how he could be though. Those figures you followed through the halls earlier that evening, that had guided you back to Secondo’s front door just when he’d needed you; they reminded you, however painfully, that there was a time when he was happy. Both of you were so happy. 

“Do you remember the first night I spent here?” you asked him after a few moments of silence, raising your arms to hug at yourself, enveloping yourself in a protective shield in case this train of thought went terribly awry and you needed your defences up.  

Secondo looked up at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. You continued, giving yourself no time to back out of your train of thought, and no time for him to reply.  

“Sister Imperator had almost caught us in the gardens. We were making out, behind one of the bushes when we heard her heels on the cobbles...” you laughed. Your smile was so beautiful to him still, just like all those years ago when you’d met eighteen years ago. It infected him, tugging at the corners of his own lips as he smirked and let his mind wonder back to that night.  

“Sí, I had hair...” he chuckled.  

“We ran... we just, ran...” you sighed, smile widening as you took a small step towards him. “You dragged me through the halls until we stopped hearing her heels.” 

“The old bat could never have kept up with us.”  

“No...” you laughed. “You kept shushing me, as if you weren’t the one making me laugh.” 

“As much as I enjoyed your laughter, amore, you were going to blow our cover,” he teased. “I believe I had no choice but to silence you... if memory serves me.” His smile faltered as he remembered that kiss in his doorway, leading you inside his quarters for the first time, spending the night entangled in and bewitched by everything you.  

What would he give to kiss you again? What would he sacrifice for a chance to hold you in his arms one more time?  

Everything. Anything.  

“Eighteen years passed by so quickly,” you sighed. “I always thought I would spend the rest of my years with you...”  

“Sí... anche me... (yes... me too...) I took you for granted, amore mio- oh...” he caught himself, a sinking feeling in his chest, “Mi scusi... I must stop calling you that.” 

Guilt settled in your stomach for the way you’d scolded him for that earlier. Truthfully, you desperately wanted him to never stop calling you that. 

“You... you don’t have to... stop, I mean,” you stuttered, twiddling your fingers and avoiding his eyes. When you did look up at him through your lashes, you saw the look of confusion in his features, and the faint flicker of hope in his eyes.  

“But... I thought you said-?” 

“Y-yeah I did, I just... I was angry,” you shrugged, folding your arms protectively again, as if literally shielding your heart. 

“Are you not angry now?” he asked gingerly, gently ‘poking the bear’ as it were. 

“Yes... No... I am, but...” you stopped yourself, sighing and dropping your arms by your sides in exasperation. “I want to be. I want to be so angry at you. I want to hate you and scream at you. Hell, I’d punch you if I could but...” 

He stood then, taking a step forward. “But what, amore...?” You met his eyes, biting your lip as he took another small, yet significant, step towards you. Could you say it? Were you brave enough?  

“If I’m angry, it’s because I still care, isn’t it?” you asked rhetorically, “I’m angry because... because I still love you.”  

Time stood still for Secondo. His heart pounded in his ears, his chest tightening at the admission that you – sweet, wonderful you – still loved him, despite the hell he had put you through. 

He acted on impulse, no coherent thought process registering. Closing the distance between you, he pulled you to him by your waist, desperately pressing his lips to yours. As if you had expected it, you immediately melted in his hold, your eyes fading shut and lips encapsulating his in submission. You were tired of hating him, tired of being angry. Being honest with yourself, you had only ever wanted to be in his arms again since that night he told you to leave.  

Finally, here you were.  

His bare hands grasped at the fabric of your habit like he was clinging for life, dangling over a gorge only you could pull him up from. You felt much the same, your fists balled in his robes pulling him to you by his chest. Your lips fit together as they always had, moving in nostalgic synchronicity. You felt alive again, synapses in your brain firing in every which way and alighting the spark you’d let dim to nothing but an ember until now. 

Secondo pressed his forehead to yours when he parted from you, his eyes remaining shut while he coped with the racing of his heart. It wasn’t until he raised one of his hands to cup your cheek that he realised your cheeks were wet with fresh tears. 

“Amore...” he breathes, tickling your lips below his, “I have loved you every single day of the last eighteen years...” 

You don’t bother holding back the sob that jumps from your chest – you couldn’t if you tried. Secondo’s thumb swept over your cheek, wiping away the tears as he shushed you gently. Your fists, balled so tight in his robes, had started to shake as your bottom lip did.  

“I-I’m scared, Secondo... If I let you in again, I-I couldn’t... couldn’t handle losing you again,” you wept.  

“No, no no no amore mio, I wouldn’t be so foolish. Not again. Per favore, credimi... ti amo (Please, believe me... I love you,” he begged. 

“Sí, credo che tu, (yes, I believe you,)” you told him, your lips finding his once again and fists pulling him impossibly close to you. He huffed a sigh of relief into the kiss, his fingertips ghosting over your jawline gently despite the desperate nature of the act.  

You tilted your head to reach a more comfortable angle; one where you could run your tongue along his bottom lip, begging for progression. He submitted with no hesitation, allowing entry with a low hum from deep within his ribcage. The hand around your waist squeezed at your hip as your kiss deepened to desperation.  

Breathlessly you pulled apart from him. “This is where I’m supposed to be,” you told him firmly with a sob, slamming your fist to his chest, “this is home.” 

“Sí, amore,” he gripped your wrist, holding your fist tightly against him, “come home to me.” 

You crumbled then, your knees buckling as you wept into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, giving in to his own sobs as he held you upright. He pressed his lips to your forehead, peppering kisses across your face wherever he could reach until finally he found your lips once again.  

Truly, his arms did feel like home. You hadn’t felt so complete ever since the last time he’d held you, an emptiness you’d tried to fill with work and frivolous relationships but nothing and no one could ever fill the void he’d left. Now you were home, you wouldn’t dare let go again.  

You’d never kissed anybody so desperately in all your life, bruisingly desperate in fact. Your lips pressed and moulded together so hard, it was bordering on painful – yet nothing could have been more painful than the last eight years. No, you needed this. You needed him.  

“Take me to bed, Secondo...” you mumbled into his lips. Secondo stilled, his hands coming to sit at your waist and pushing you back; not even half a step away from him, yet you already missed the warmth of his chest along with the rhythmic thumping of his heart.  

“Amore, I don’t wish to rush you...” he spoke cautiously, his eyes scanning your face. “We don’t have to go there tonight...” 

There he was; for a split second, you could have sworn you saw a glimmer of the man you’d fallen in love with eighteen years ago... His paints vanished, his deep-set wrinkles smoothing out, his hair tucked and poking out from beneath his Bishop’s biretta. That same kindness, that care and cautiousness of the night he first brought you to his quarters...  

He’d said the same to you then, ever so chivalrous at all times but you knew then as you knew now – you were ready. You needed him. 

Slowly, you raised your palm to his cheek, noting the strange feeling of his paint-covered skin on your fingertips. You traced the lines where the white met the black, smudged together in places where his tears had streaked down his face. It amazed you how much the years had aged him, what the stress had done to him and yet, he was just as handsome to you as the day you’d met. 

“I think we’ve both waited long enough, caro,” you smiled, relishing in the way his brow softened, and his eyes glinted with happiness. He brought his hand to yours, holding it in place as he turned his head to press kisses to your palm. He laced his fingers with yours turning to the direction of his bedroom and leading the way. Once inside, Secondo took a step away from you.  

“Un momento, amore. There is something I must do...” he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, letting go before he stepped into the bathroom to the left. You could hear the faucet squeaking as he turned it, the unmistakable rush of water hitting the porcelain sink below. 

In his absence, you couldn’t help the way your gaze wondered as you remembered the details around you. The furniture remained unchanged but worn slightly with age, the shine of the dark wood not as prevalent as it had been. The bookshelf in the corner was still covered in tiny knick-knacks and ornaments, some of which you had bought him. One still sat on his nightstand; a small statue of Baphomet depicted as he traditionally was. On the other nightstand – the side that used to be yours – sat the same deep green glass vase you remembered, all the shine gone as it sat empty and covered in a layer of dust.  

That vase used to never sit empty, fresh flowers in it constantly. Secondo made a point of it, always replacing the flowers before they could wilt too much with different varieties all the time. He loved how it would make you smile, how you would bury your nose in the petals to smell the latest additions. Seeing it sat so sad and empty stung a little, but you understood.  

So enthralled in your journey down memory lane, you didn’t notice the end to the running water next door, nor the footsteps of the man coming to stand with his chest to your back as one arm snaked around your waist, the other tilting your chin up to look back at him so he could press his lips back to yours again.  

You turned in his arms, sinking into another slow and passionate kiss. When you raised your palms to his cheeks, you distinctly felt the smooth skin now void of the greasy and smeared paints. This was how you remembered him; not with the full skull paint and certainly not smeared with tears and despair. He removed his paints for that very reason. 

Secondo removed your veil from your head, letting your hair fall around your face in that beautiful way he always loved. Within seconds his fingers were threading their way through your roots while his other hand held you tightly to him by your hips. It was all too easy to lose yourself to his kiss, quickly becoming more needy as time ticked by.  

He made sure to move at your pace, though. It wasn’t until you started to undo his shirt buttons – his robe removed and folded in the bathroom moments ago already – that he even attempted to undo the zipper at the back of your habit. It wasn’t until you kicked off your boots that he did the same to his loafers. It wasn’t until your hands scrambled for the belt around his hips that he let it slip from your shoulders and pool at your feet. It wasn’t until he was stripped bare by your frantic hands that he allowed himself to unclasp your bra and drag it down your arms, followed by your panties that hit the floor with the rest of the hastily removed garments.  

He was too frightened you would startle easily, realise what you were doing and suddenly slap yourself with the reality that you still hadn’t forgiven him, and run off feeling embarrassed and angry. He needed to give you the space to run safely, if you needed to.  

But as you had already told him – you were going nowhere. He was certain of that now.  

Now completely exposed to each other, there was nowhere to hide. The warmth of his bare skin under your palms sent a thrill through your body, already responding to the way his fingertips dug into the meat of your hips as he kissed you with a new fervour.  

With your hands cradling his jawline, you stepped backwards, bringing him with you until you were able to sit on the edge of his bed, shuffling back while he crawled over you. It was too easy not to separate your kiss from each other, in tune with one another enough that you could move as one. You felt the pillows behind you, laying back and bringing him with you as he settled between your thighs.  

Already, you could feel him pressing against your core. You ached for him, desperate to have him. It was as if there were pulses of arousal flowing through your body and accumulating at your core, where heat had begun to pool.  

As much as Secondo wanted to dive in, to take you as he once had so many times, he knew this was not a moment to rush. Instead, he focussed his efforts on trailing his lips down your jawline, following the curves down your neck and collarbone as his palm kneaded at your breast opposite his mouth. Slowly, he savoured the velvet smoothness of your skin on his tongue, taking your nipple into his mouth while your back arched up into him in pleasure and anticipation.  

Secondo had missed these little noises you would make. The mewls and whimpers as he brought you to the brink of desperation; he adored them. If he himself hadn’t missed you the way he did, he could spend hours working you up to release. Another time though, perhaps. If you would want another... 

The hand that kneaded at your other breast snaked its way down between the two of you where his length was resting against you at the inner junction of your leg and hip. He allowed his fingertips to brush over himself only for a moment, before he dragged his middle finger through your glistening folds and circled your clit once, twice...  

You gasped under him, hips chasing the high and in turn grinding into his hardness which earned a deep moan from him against your breast. He could feel you were ready for more, drifting his finger to your entrance and starting with just one as he pushed inside, feeling your warmth envelope his digit. His cock twitched against you at the feel, like a silent plea to be buried inside you. All you could do was hold him against you, an arm around his waist and one around the back of his head forcing him flush against your body.  

From the way you rolled your hips against his finger that slowly but surely curled over and over inside you, Secondo knew you needed more, and so alongside his middle finger, he slid his ring finger too. The way he curled them both inside you had your eyes rolling back in your head – he always was good with his hands, and just as he could then, he could read you like an open book, reciting verses of pleasure and passion from your pages. 

He began to move them inside you, readying you for him. As the seconds ticked on, his need to sheath himself inside you grew increasingly hard to ignore, his hips grinding into you from above. His lips found yours again, abandoning your breast in his frenzy to be close to you.  

He overtook your senses; all you could do was see him, hear him, smell him, feel him, taste him. You decided in an instant that was all you wanted for the rest of eternity. Just him. 

You needed more of him, all of him, and so you lifted your legs from the mattress, spreading your thighs wider in a way of presenting yourself to him to hopefully, finally, fill you with more than just his fingers. Secondo growled against your lips, his resolve crumbling. His hand slipped from inside you and instead came to grip the back of your thigh, pressing it back to give him the room to easily slide his member through your folds, effortlessly catching his tip on your entrance so that slowly, maddeningly, he could push himself into you.  

For a moment, neither of you could focus on anything other than that feeling; of filling you, of being filled. Both of your jaws went slack, moans spilling from your lips and mingling in the millimetres between you. When Secondo was fully enveloped in your heat, his forehead met yours while he gathered some form of composure. He could feel his chest tightening, the wounds of the last eight years stitching themselves back up. He let out a sob through gritted teeth, and whilst you too were completely enthralled in the overwhelm of emotions, it was all you could do to console him in that moment. 

“I-I’m here, caro. I’m right here,” you reassured him, your fingers tracing patterns across the nape of his neck. He had to take several heavy, deep breaths that puffed his cheeks up on the exhale each time before he could even bare to look you in the eye. When he did, he found nothing but love in them, your irises swimming with it.  

“Ti amo, amore mio...” he repeated, his voice cracking with emotion. You smiled at him, such softness in your features as a prickle of tears glistened in your eyes.  

“I love you too, caro.” You always had. You pulled him to you for another kiss, quickly falling under his spell once again. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him as his hips started to sluggishly roll against yours, dragging his length through your heat achingly slow. Both of you needed to savour that feeling, one you had missed out on for so long.  

As your tongues danced together, so too did your hips, meeting in the middle as the two of you picked up a comfortable pace, effortlessly working together to drag the groans and whimpers from the other.  

Neither of you were under any illusion that this would last particularly long, despite dragging it out to relish it at first. But the longer you stayed banded together, the harder it was not to give in to the pleasure, to that familiar heat coiling in both of your abdomens.  

Secondo squeezed the underside of your thigh as his cock twitched and kicked inside you, begging for a release he was trying too hard to stave off. Your walls fluttered around him, rippling and sending jolts of electricity through you. Your bodies worked together, keying into a frequency you had only ever been able to register together. Nothing and nobody else had ever come close to understanding either of you. It was the two of you; it was always supposed to be.  

“A-ah!” you cried against his lips, squeezing your eyes shut while your body dangled over the edge of a sensational orgasm. “S-Secondo...”  

“Ooh, say that again, amore. Let me hear you...” you asked, ready to let go at the sound of his name from your lips once more. 

With a few more thrusts you gathered the strength you needed, opening your eyes to meet his beautifully mismatched ones and holding his cheek as you moaned his name one more time for him. 

“Secondo...”   

That was it for him. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried, his cock spilling inside you and his thrusts becoming erratic. You could feel him inside you, length pulsing and warmth spreading that triggered an almighty break in your body, orgasm ripping its way through you. The shouts of pleasure the two of you made together sounded like a symphony to your ears, and the both of you gripped onto each other for dear life as if this were a dream, and you might wake up at any moment.  

But neither of you disappeared; no puffs of smoke, no fading into the darkness. You stayed in each other's arms, coming down form your highs and catching your breaths while the weight of the world seemed to drift from your shoulders. That baggage you’d been carrying for years, the pain and hurt... it didn’t exist in that moment.  

You weren’t kidding yourself into thinking that everything was perfect, and you could instantly go back to playing happy families with Secondo; not at all. But that moment? That was perfect. It offered you a relief of your woes that you’d needed for so long. And now, instead of bottling up your emotions, the two of you could begin to heal. Really heal.  

It would take a lot of work, probably some shaky moments; hell, maybe even some therapy for the both of you but for the first time in eight years, you felt peace.  

Home. This was home.  

A sliver of golden sunlight shifted slowly down the wall as the sun rose outside, pouring in between the curtains that hadn’t been drawn completely closed the night before. Eventually, it hit your eyes like a blindfold, waking you with a squint and a grumble as you flipped onto your other side to avoid it.  

The white spots in your vision cleared after a few moments, and you found yourself staring at a bed that wasn’t yours. At least, not anymore. It once had been, shared with the love of your life.  

And yet, he was nowhere to be seen, the sheets on his side wrinkled and haphazardly strewn aside. You sat up slowly, wiping the sleep from your eyes and holding the deep green sheets against your bare body. Even the bathroom door was wide open, no sign of him at all.  

For a moment you almost convinced yourself last night had never happened, but even you couldn’t deny the evidence of being sat completely nude in Secondo’s bedroom. Perhaps he’d had second thoughts about what had transpired. Maybe it was too much too soon.  

It wasn’t until you looked around at the room and your tired eyes fell upon your nightstand – or at least, the nightstand that was once yours – that you relaxed, a warmth spilling through your chest and raising goosebumps on your skin.  

Your vase shined in the sunlight, newly polished and casting a green imprint on the wall behind it. Inside it, a fresh bouquet of queen of the night tulips with splashes of white jasmine offsetting the deep purple. You could smell the jasmine from where you sat, a favourite scent of yours.  

Secondo regretted nothing of last night. He, much like you, saw that as your fresh start – as fresh as the bouquet before you. He felt the same relief as you did, the same hope for some kind of future together. 

Staring at the flowers, a smile spread over your lips you couldn’t contain. Part of you knew why that vase had sat untouched and empty since your departure. Secondo bringing it back to life again the moment you came back to him was all the reassurance you needed that you were welcomed home with open arms.  

“Primo will be angry when he sees the stalks in his garden,” Secondo chuckled, breaking the silence as he leaned against the doorframe looking devilishly handsome with his skull paint fresh and crisp, his black shirt tucked into his slacks and cinched with a belt. His arms were folded over his chest, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. A smirk played on his face, enjoying the look of shock in your features when your head whipped around at his sudden voice. 

“You didn’t...” you scolded playfully.  

“Oh, I did amore...” he smiled, pushing off from the doorframe and coming to sit on the end of the bed in front of you. “Let him be mad. He will understand in time.” 

A comfortable silence settled over you as he lifted his hand to brush your bed hair from your cheek.  

“You were always most beautiful like this, dolcezza,” he spoke dreamily, taking you in in the morning sun, wrapped in his sheets with messed hair and a bare face. Your eyes fluttered shut, chasing the feeling of his fingertips. You let yourself enjoy the blissful silence for a moment, but one of you had to break it eventually. 

“We’ll need to work on this, Secondo. All that time... we can’t erase it in one night,” you told him, bringing your knees up to rest your arms and chin on shyly. 

“Sí, sí, quite right. It’s only a start, amore. I will prove things are different, te lo prometto (I promise).” 

“I don’t doubt you, my love,” you smiled, reaching out for his shirt collar and pulling him gently to meet your lips in a soft, gentle kiss to seal his promise.  

A promise you knew he would fight both heaven and hell to keep.  

Major thanks to @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading once again! There's no tag list for this one since this is a request from two people that got out of hand... I hope, dear anons, you enjoyed this!

[molly-ghuleh]

Camellia: Copia x f!reader - Chapter 6

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

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

Word count: 4.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That last point… he never did accomplish. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How come?” You ask. 

“I do not know.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~ 

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

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

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

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

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

His, and not. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She didn’t.” 

“Good, that’s… good.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Me, too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Forgot to be starstruck?” 

“Forgot that you are Papa.” 

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

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

“No,” Copia says softly. “I don’t.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Papa,” you nod, smiling. 

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

March 27

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cupfullofpapas]

(Yes I'm reusing this image too busy to doodle a new one :''( life has been super crazy as of late ) Second Vol in The Assistant series: In the arms of a Devil Rated: E F/M Cardinal Copia x F!Reader Papa Emeritus IV x F!Reader Also read it on my Ao3 here Previous Vol. : The Assistant

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5: Screen Share

Sleeping was difficult that night, you tossed and turned until your body was too exhausted and you passed out, when morning came you reached out expecting to touch your Cardinal's sweet face but found only cold sheets, the confusion it hit you before your memory did. “Ah.. the tour,” you thought out loud with your hand still on the sheets.

Your Cardinal would be lying beside you, waking up to him you would crease his cheek and get a genuine smile from him, a smile you missed already. Grabbing your phone and tapping in the security pin, the envelope icon had a 1 on it. 

Copia:  Goodnight Cara Mia <3, call me when you get up

You smiled looking at the message the little heart he typed out made you giggle as you pressed the call button on his name, it rang a few times before he picked up.   "Dolcezza, good morning!."  He greeted putting a smile on your face as you sat up in bed leaning against the headboard.  "Morning Caro, how did you sleep?."  You heard Copia groan.  "Without you by my side, horrible I used to be able to wake up to an empty bed and not think anything of it, and now? it is the worst feeling in the world."  You couldn't help but chuckle at the dramatic tone of his voice her hand cupped over your face to keep any noise from escaping.  "Well it's only for a few months Copia, remember-"  "Cara" He interrupted "If you are, going to say 'absence makes the heart grow fonder  please Mountain has already given me the entire lecture about it, no wonder he  is Primo's favorite ghoul."

 A smile came to Copia's face as he heard you laugh on the other end ahh what a laugh you had he could listen to it for hours, there was a moment of silence the Cardinal swallowing hard trying to decide if now was the right time to say those three little words to you, he shouldn't be this nervous about it he'd already slept with you several times. Copia opened his mouth to speak however Rain appeared in the doorway his thumb pointing over his shoulder.  "Ah, dolcezza, I need to go and get started first concert is in a few days."  "I know."  You replied swinging your legs over the side of the bed and getting up.  "I need to get my butt up too."  At that moment there was a quick rapid knock on your door as one of your siblings of sin stuck her head into your and Copia's dorm room as you and Copia said your goodbyes. "Come quick!, Sister Gemma has gone into labor!." 

You stared at the sister in shock. "But" You started. "She isn't due until next month."  This made you get up quicker throwing on her habit, instead of brushing your hair you shoved it into the hat there was always time to brush it later. The closer you got to the infirmary the more siblings of sin and ghouls alike littered the hallway, pushing one of the shorter ghouls aside. 

"Sorry, Lenti!." You called back finally pushing the door open and heading down the hall.   "Sorella." Came Primo's worried voice taking your hands in his.  "We were in the garden when the pain started."  "Has her water broke?" you watched as Primo stared at you blankly.  "I'm not sure, I do not remember Sorella"  You knew he was worried and some information could have escaped his mind especially with everything moving so fast and his fear of losing a second wife. 

You heard Gemma call for him it took you aback for a moment to hear her like that, fearful, fearful was one thing you would never classify Gemma as. Primo had let go of your hands and rushed to Gemma's side.  "Mi amore, do not worry everything will be okay."   "I hope ah!- so caro."  You watched them for a moment and wondered.. if one day that would be you and Copia, shoving the thought aside you stepped into the room. "Gemma how close are the contractions?"  Before Gemma could answer you heard Sister Imperator behind you.  "They are close now, if you would please step out into the hall."  You wanted to argue about staying there, however, Lenti was already tugging you out of the room to stand with the rest of the ghouls, ghoulettes, and siblings of sin. The heavy doors kept Gemma's cries at bay, time seemed to stand still as you worked your way to the outer edge of the group squeezing out of the crowd. 

"You!." You heard a voice yell out and before you knew it you were tackled to the ground and with weight sitting on your stomach the air had been knocked out of you.  "Divine!." You heard Alpha's voice as he picked the ghoulette up off of you the blond giving a nervous laugh, meanwhile, Terzo and Omega helped you sit up you were about to thank them but only glared at Terzo. 

"Yes, yes I know I was a dickhead, look I've already called and apologized to him, as much as I didn't want to-" "He felt awful after the fight, he didn't even do his skin routine or bubble bath" Omega butted in, thankfully the young Emeritus had worn his paint or else you would have seen his cheeks go red. "Shhhh! Omega!."  He spluttered "What? it's not like it's a secret" You mustered out a small laugh looking up as Alpha walked over still holding Divine by the back of her top, like a cat that had been caught.  "What do we say Divine?" the ghoulette hissed only to get shaken slightly. "Okay! okay!."  The female huffed.

"I'm sorry for tackling you, I saw you and got too excited- now put me down Alpha!!." The Ghoul opened his hand dropping the girl who landed on the floor with a thud. "Ow! you motherfu-" She started but huffed making her way to Terzo on all fours taking a seat by him and Omega grumbling.  "I see she's still pretty feral."  "We're working on it." Alpha shrugged before asking.  "Any news on the baby yet?."  You shook your head. "Nope, Sister Imperator had Lenti pull me from the room, I think she's pushing right now." 

"She pushed you from the room? the old witch"  Terzo grumbled running his hand through his hair in annoyance. "She better be kind to my niece or nephew" Terzo hissed quietly. 

It felt like forever until the door finally opened and Sister Imperator stepped out.  "It's a girl."  She announced to the waiting crowd Primo being the next to step out of the room holding the baby girl wrapped in a yellow blanket.   "Alessia Anna Emeritus." He announced blinking as several of the crowd members were pushed aside Terzo forced his way to the front his eyes having a shine to them. "Fratello, she is beautiful"  He spoke his voice a whisper as those tiny mismatched eyes looked up at her father and uncles her little head was covered in soft blond hair.  "How is Gemma?." You asked as you made it through the crowd Omega, Alpha, and Divine having acted as bodyguards. 

"She is doing well, come"  Primo spoke as he turned allowing you and the others to walk in the older Emeritus considering you part of the family now.  Gemma looked up from her place on the bed. "Sister, there you are." She held her arms up allowing you to hug her Terzo was next followed by the two ghouls before Alessia was handed back to her mother. 

"They said she was early but strong with everything fully developed." Gemma smiled as Alessia's little hand took hold of her finger, you turned your attention hearing the door open only to see Secondo standing there he looked surprised or maybe shocked?, to see you there, you couldn't pinpoint it. 

Saying your goodbyes you headed out of the room so the brothers could marvel over their new niece, thankfully the crowd outside had departed making it easy for you to be on your way.  Time seemed to slow down and you hated it, you hated going to bed alone at night sure Copia and you would talk for a few hours until you both eventually fell asleep while still on video call there were a few times you woke up seeing him fast asleep you had learned a few things from this:  One Copia was a heavy sleeper. Two he sometimes talked in his sleep. And three he sometimes passed gas in his sleep, the first time you heard it, it sent you into a fit of laughter that woke the poor man up out of a dead sleep. When he asked what was so funny you spared him any humiliation and simply said that Bisscoti had done something funny, from then on if it happened again you always muted your side to laugh or giggle. 

Two months in and time started moving faster, thankfully mostly because you were watching little Alessia, rather watching Primo gush over his bundle of joy you had to remind the eldest Emeritus to take his medications and of his appointments with the abbey's doctors. You watched as Primo gave his daughters' belly a raspberry which made the youth squeal in laughter, feeling your phone buzz before ringing the screen and flashing Copia's name you waved to the two happy new parents before taking your leave and answering.

"Hey babe."  You answered giggling as you heard a wheeze of surprise on the other end.  "Hello sorella, how are you?." Your Cardinal asked once the camera had been turned on allowing you both to see each other, you swore he grew more and more handsome each day.  "I'm good, missing you, you have what, one or two more shows before you return, yeah?."   "Si, and non too soon." "Oh?, trouble in paradise?." "I wouldn't say trouble more like ehhh.."  He rolled his wrist looking for the right words to say. "Getting the ghouls and ghoulettes to listen to me, especially Omega and Alpha but enough about work how is la mia nipotina doing?"

You stared at him for a moment. "My little niece."  He respoke as you gave a thankful look. "She's doing well, a little small, other than that she's in perfect health." "Does she have the ehh, eye?." 

"Yeah she does, it's so weird, seeing a tiny set of eyes like that makes me wonder if there are any baby pictures of you lying around."  You laughed as you heard Copia wheeze a 'no'. You laughed while heading back to the dorm,  flopping onto the bed while holding the phone above you. 

Copia watched as you flopped down onto the bed seeing your gorgeous hair fanned out and the way the blankets hugged you... his mind started wandering, wandering right down into the gutter it had been too long since he had pleased himself, so long that seeing you sprawled out on the bed made him stand at attention. Copia was mentally thanking Lucifer and the infernal princes that he had remembered to lock his bunk door for some privacy. 

"Ahh, cara mia the things you do to me."  He whispered which put a smile on your face as you rolled over onto your belly the phone held out in front of you.  "Oh?, and what do I do to you?, my Cardinal?."  You watched as his face turned a soft shade of red.

"W-Well I-I that- that is uh... um.. eh... that- you see ehh..." He was flustered and you loved it.  "Well?."  Your voice took on a flirtatious tone. You watched as he smirked feeling the rare boost of confidence. "How about I show you, eh?."  Now it was your turn to turn red as you heard the rustling of clothes and a zipper and with the turn of the phone, you were face to face with his cock standing erect and proud. Copia's leather-dressed fingers came into the frame to stroke at himself slowly. You watched biting your bottom lip as you felt a tingle between your legs watching, listening to his breathing grow deep. 

"I see you miss me quite a bit hm?."  You giggled lifting your hips from the bed and rolling them feeling yourself starting to grow moist. You had almost forgotten how good it felt when he was inside of you, how good it felt while your Cardinal slammed into you hitting all the right spots while he had you on your hands and knees taking you from behind.

"More than you know tesoro."  You watched as his hand pulled away his cock throbbing, you watched it bounce with each pulse. Biting your lip you looked around as if to make sure no one was looking at your screen in your own damn room.

"You know- letting it go like that isn't good." You whispered. "Perhaps you should take care of it mio caro." You rolled your r and you swore you saw his cock bounce harder.  "Si, si dolcezza" You heard your Cardinal gasp as he took a firm hold of his cock starting to stroke his erect member soft moans passed his lips, moans that went right to your core making your slick walls throb and grow slicker, they gave a harder throb as you heard him groan your name.  "Fuck that's hot." You wheezed out in a whisper.

"Bellezza, what I wouldn't give to have you here with me right now bouncing on my lap, to be deep- so deep inside you." Copia panted out.

"Oh fuck, yes Copia."  The words came out in a hushed gasp of a whisper, they seemed to just spill out on their own as your hand snaked down between your legs slipping past your panties and feeling your moist lips.  "Sweet Lucifer, I'm so wet."  

You breathed you felt a slight wave of embarrassment however the feeling was pushed away as you sank two fingers into your cunt making yourself gasp his name, before you knew it you both were masturbating listening to one another, the phone had been moved so you both could also see each other while your hands went to work.  "Fuck, cara I want you, I want you so fucking bad."  Copia breathed as his hand pumped his leaky cock, beads of precum had welled and started to spill giving his erection a soft shine. 

"Ragazza birichina... I can hear your wet cunt from here."  Copia breathed making you clamp around your fingers.  "Oh fuck, C-Copia-."  You panted as you thrust your fingers in and out of yourself faster. "I want you here in me so fucking bad." You whined your back arching into the huge mound of pillows. 

"Ohh.. you have no idea how much I wish I was there." Copia breathed. "Amore I'm close." 

"Hold it baby, just a little longer wait for me."  You gasped as your second hand joined in rolling your clit, as good as it was it couldn't compare to the feeling of Copia's hands on you. Your mind trying to trick yourself into thinking it and surprisingly it works bringing you closer to your peak.  "Cara-."  Copia started but you cut him off.

"Now, now, oh fuck- now! oh baby I'm cumming I'm cumming!." You moaned as you felt the pressure snap in your pelvis it felt as if your blood rushed from top to bottom and back while your cunt squeezed your fingers.  Copia had sped his hand up until his balls finally contracted as he released. His head was thrown back as thick streams of cum splurted from his cock splattering onto the camera, you could only hear a faint breathless 'ah shit' as your body was starting to come down from its high falling back onto the bed. 

It took a few minutes before you finally had enough energy to get up and clean your mess, Copia doing the same on the other end wiping his phone clean.  Afterwards, you lay in bed with a pillow propping your phone up next to you as you both continued to talk into the night feeling even more in love as you said your goodnights and blew a kiss at the screen.  You were settling down for bed when you heard a knock at your door, mumbling you dragged yourself from the bed to answer it finding Emilia at your doorstep, your brow arching. 

"Mi dispiace, sorella, for coming to you so late but you are the only one I could think to ask."  "What is it Emilia? and it's okay."  "Mi dispiace, but do you- umm."  Her pale face grew red as her dark eyes looked away, she looked kind of cute that way almost too innocent to be in the church of Lucifer.  "Do I?."  "DoyouhaveanyextracondomsIcoulduse?."  She said quickly her voice hushed, there was silence for a moment while you both stared at each other before you laughed which made her face redder.  "Yeah yeah I do, come on in." You waved your fellow sister of sin into your dorm room while you vanished into your room grabbing the box from the nightstand and popping it open pulling a line of the foil packages out. 

Folding them you headed back to the living room where Emilia was still standing her face still red with blush.  "Here you go." You handed them to her as she gave a thankful smile.  "Grazie."   "No prob and don't think there is any bad blood between us just because you're with Secondo okay?." Emilia stared at you as if you had read her mind and seen right through her fears, you watched as her hazel eyes welled a little.  "Grazie, grazie sister."  She spoke smiling as you hugged her. 

"Now go, rock his world sis." You snickered as Emilia squeaked at your words, one final hug and she was off to nail the man of her dreams, you couldn't help but feel a little jealous that she could go right to her lovers' room and be with him while yours was miles and miles away. Your final thought that night was if this was how Gemma felt when Primo was on tour during his era as Papa, if she could get through it then hell you could too!. Tag list: Please message me and tell me if you would like to be tagged! @thesoundresoundsecho @xpapaemeritus @copiasprincipessa

[gravehags]

your sin, your preacher

Pairing: Papa Emeritus II x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: jealousy, possessiveness, rough sex, tender love confessions

Words: 1,618

Summary: You really should be used to this kind of thing by now but watching him with others never fails to make your blood burn.

a/n: AHA REMEMBER ME have a horny secondo fic based on a dream i had several weeks ago that i can no longer remember any of the pertinent details to. anyway cheers i did not intend for this to get so sweet at the end but i can't help myself. tender bitch disease status: terminal.

divider by @ghuleh-recs

It wasn’t like it was the first time you’ve felt that pang of jealousy when the two of you were out but Sathanas did it sting.

The two of you are currently in Secondo’s bedroom both silently undressing after a Ministry event at a favored local club. All the upper clergy were present that night with only a handful of siblings - you being one of them. But you know you’re no ordinary sibling. Everyone knows you’re no ordinary sibling. Papa Secondo’s favorite. Papa Secondo’s mistress. Papa Secondo’s faithful little lap bitch. You’ve heard it all at this point and none of it really bothered you. What did however, despite internally chastising yourself every time it happened, was your reaction when you’d see others hanging all over your lover. And oh, did they hang. Painted lips close to his ear, promising him a night he’ll never forget as hands slide along his inner thigh. You had been speaking to Cardinal Copia that evening, the two of you complaining about your dislike of the music and the volume at which it was being blasted, when you saw a woman in a short dress, hanging on his side, her hand dangerously low on his belly. Secondo didn’t acknowledge her - instead electing to continue his conversation with Papa Terzo - but his disinterest didn’t stop her from continuing the path of her red-clawed hand. When she cupped your lover’s clothed cock, bile rose in your throat until the observant Cardinal took it upon himself to step in front of you and break your line of sight. You should be used to it by now, you chastised yourself, it’s part of the job. All part of the game he has to play. 

Yeah well it didn’t mean you had to like it.

Having stripped yourself of your clothing and jewelry, you silently grab your nightgown - a short black silk sleep chemise gifted to you by the man watching you carefully from across the room - and head towards the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind you. As you diligently remove your makeup you wonder if he could sense your irritation, feel the ugly green jealousy seeping off of you through the wall that divided the two of you. You wouldn’t be surprised, he’s always been startlingly good at seeing what you try your best to hide. Face washed, teeth brushed, you slip your nightgown over your head and loosen your hair with a sigh. With your hands on either side of the sink supporting you, you look up at your reflection. 

He chose you.

You smile at yourself and push yourself off the porcelain and put your hands on your hips.

But it doesn’t hurt to remind him.

Turning around you shut the bathroom light off and open the door. He’s already in bed, mismatched eyes watching you like a hawk as you pad across the rug and fling back the luxurious sheets to climb in beside him. You don’t have to say anything as you lie on your back with your eyes shut and simply wait. He’s predictable like that. And before long, you feel a long, elegant hand slide across your belly and up to your breast. You pretend not to notice him even as dextrous fingers circle your nipple. When he pinches insistently, hard, at the bud you finally let your eyes fly open and as soon as you do, he’s upon you. He doesn’t kiss you but instead drags his crooked nose along your neck and inhales deep.

“Amore…” he breathes and you can smell the expensive whiskey he drinks on his breath mixed with the mint of his toothpaste. “You looked delicious tonight.”

“Did I?” you ask, attempting to sound disinterested even as heat and slick pools between your thighs. “Kind of you to notice.”

That makes him pause and you seize the opportunity to flip him onto his back and straddle his hips. He’s half hard between the two of you and you know he can feel your wetness as you pin his forearms above his head. There’s a fire in his eyes now and you grind down on him with a sigh.

“Diavoletta mia,” he growls, “you play a dangerous game.”

“Oh?” you idly lift your hips and grab his cock to tease the head at your soaked entrance. Your hands are no longer holding him down but he obediently stays in place, electing instead to watch you sink down on him with a groan.

“Fuck,” you breathe, eyes rolling back at the way he stretches you. Frantically your hands search for the hem of your nightgown and in a smooth motion you lift it over your head and fling it aside. When his eyes meet the sway of your breasts you can’t help but smile with pride. You’ve never seen him look at anyone else with that gaze. Slowly, your hips begin to undulate as you slide off of him then take him back in. When his hands twitch you have to laugh - you know all he wants is to place them on either side of your hips and guide you.

“Ah, ah–ah!” The chastisement loses its bite when on the last syllable, his hips thrust upwards to fuck into you. He’s smirking at you now and with your brows furrowed, you take your hand and wrap it around his throat.

“So dominant, agnellino mio,” he taunts, “tell me does it lessen the sting of seeing that woman with her hand on my cock tonight?”

Your jaw drops and your face flushes in anger as you squeeze on either side of his throat. Bastard. Ruthlessly you begin to ride him, watching even as his iron control slips with each clench of your cunt. 

“You’re–lucky–” you pant, flinging your hair back, “almost went home with someone else tonight. That–Cardinal Copia–is such a sweet man. I’m sure he would treat me right. Might–might even be able to fill me better than this too.”

You knew you’d gone too far even as the words left your mouth. With a roar, Secondo flips you onto your back and with one large hand, effectively pins both of your wrists above your head. You’re about to throw a retort back at him when he slams inside of you with such force your head nearly grazes the headboard. All you can manage to is moan, higher and higher, as he pounds into you at a bruising rate.

“Never–forget–amore,” he snarls in between thrusts, “you are mine. You are mine and I am yours, capisci? This body–ah–this body is yours. This–ugh–soul is yours. This bed is ours and this cock is yours.”

Your lips form the words but no sound manages to come out - how could it at the rate he fucks the breath from your lungs? - so you nod frantically, tears sliding down your temples. The pleasure is bordering on pain but you don’t even care, how could you when you feel so deliciously used? When your spine begins to tighten and you feel your body bend off the mattress, you come with an exaltant scream of his name, cunt spasming around the thick length of him. If he was wild before, feeling and hearing your pleasure makes him positively feral, grunting and swearing profusely. When his previously precise thrusts become erratic, his hips stuttering, you know he’s close and so you end his suffering and sweetly clench around him once, twice, thrice and he comes with a hoarse shout, pumping rope after rope of seed into your cunt. When he finally relinquishes his grip on your wrists your hands immediately cup his cheeks and drag him down for a fierce kiss. He remains inside of you as his body sags and leans into your touch, momentarily breaking the kiss to pant into your mouth and nudge your nose with his.

“Amata mia, amata cara ragazza…do not ever doubt your Papa’s fidelity. I am yours, mi hai sentito? Only yours.”

With one final, uncharacteristically soft kiss he slips out of you and collapses to the side. You lament the loss of him inside you but your heart is so full to bursting tears begin sliding down your face once more.

“Secondo?”

"Sì, bellezza mia?”

“I love you.”

Those words were rare to pass between the two of you and always have been but you have never felt it more fiercely here, in this moment, as your body aches beautifully from his touch. You dare not look at him, instead choosing to stare at the coffered ceiling of the bedroom as tears continue to pour freely. There is a moment, then another, and you realize he’s staring at you so you finally turn to meet his gaze and oh, what you see there makes you gasp. Those mismatched eyes you love so dearly regard you with such raw feeling a hiccup bubbles in your chest. Gently, he reaches up and with two fingers, brushes the hair out of your eyes, followed by your tears.

“I do not know why the Unholy Father has seen to bless me in my old age but cara…you are my greatest treasure. Dolcezza mia. The words do not do how I feel justice but I will say them all the same. Ti amo.”

When you were watching siblings of sin grind on each other to the tacky thump of club music earlier that evening you had never anticipated this is how your night would end. You’ll pay for it tomorrow - you both will - your body bruised and used and his knees and back aching. No matter, you think as you curl your body into his, hand carding idly through the dark hair on his chest. Anything would be worth this.

[library-ghoulette]

Now There Is Nothing Between Us

Pairing: Copia (Papa Emeritus IV) x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: second person POV, established relationship, VHS and chill, their first time, my kink is being loved and wanted, crying, reference to past heartbreak, hurt/comfort, discussion of sexual fantasies, pillow princess!Reader, oral sex (f receiving), handjob, p in v sex, coming inside (please fuck responsibly), Copia being tender, Copia fucking the self-doubt right out of you

Words: 2435

Summary: Anxieties about your first time with Copia rear their head at the worst possible moment, but luckily he knows just how to ease your fears.

A/N: I wrote this because I was stressing out about writing sex scenes for the first time in a long time, and I thought it might help to have my favorite Papa sweetly talk me through it. This was supposed to just be for me, but I'm sharing it for anyone else who needs a therapy session with their smut.

ao3 link

divider by @gothdaddyissues

“Amore mio, what’s wrong?”

The question takes you by surprise. You were mid-kiss when Copia pulled back, his mismatched eyes searching yours with concern.

“N-nothing’s wrong,” you stammer, reaching for him again, eager to pull him back in, keep his mouth occupied, so he can ask no more questions.

But he stubbornly avoids your advances, catching your hands in his and holding them between the two of you, restrained. He settles onto the pillow beside you, face-to-face.

“You think I know you so little that you can lie to me?” he asks. “That I can’t feel it when you’re all stiff?”

He pulls his shoulders up and grimaces in a comically horrified expression that makes you smile in spite of yourself, but still you say nothing, merely look down at where he holds your hands clasped in his much larger, much stronger, ones. He runs a reassuring thumb over your knuckles.

It was supposed to be a special night. At long last, it was supposed to be the night.

The two of you had gone from stealing glances at one another in the halls of the Abbey, to sharing friendly movie nights where you sat on opposite sides of the couch, both too timid to make a move, to significantly friendlier movie nights that devolved into heated kisses long before the end credits even rolled.

Each night, there would come a moment where the kiss would break, when a heavy pause descended and there came an unspoken question that you knew you had to answer.

Every night before, the answer has been no. You would remark on the lateness of the hour and go back to your own room. And there you lay awake, burning with thoughts of all of the things you could have done if only you had stayed. All the places where Copia could kiss you, could touch you, as you touched yourself.

But not tonight. This time, when that silent question made itself known, the answer had been yes. You had stayed, followed Copia to his bed, let him lay you down with a gentleness that spoke of brutal desire barely contained. Pressed yourself against him, returned his kisses, helped him shrug out of his sweatshirt and pulled his T-shirt over his head with obvious eagerness. You had thought that you were doing well, doing it right.

Apparently, you had been wrong.

Great. Now you’re on the verge of tears. Very sexy. Definitely not a surefire way to spoil the mood.

Copia is still looking at you, his unpainted face soft, searching, utterly open. You don’t deserve his attentiveness, his care. It makes you want to hide.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” He kisses your knuckles. “You are maybe having second thoughts?”

“No! No, I– I really want to do this.”

“But something is bothering you. And we’re not doing anything until you tell me what that is. Until we fix it.”

Why does he have to be like this? Why can’t he just let it go? 

“Tesoro, you can tell me anything. You know this.”

Copia has never given you a reason to distrust him, has never judged you or made you feel silly for any of your anxieties. Still, you struggle to put this into words. 

“I don’t know. I’m just a little nervous, I guess?”

I sound so dumb.

“It’s okay to be nervous! Is this…”--he casts about for a tactful phrasing–”your first time?”

Satanas, it just gets worse and worse.

“No, it’s not my first time. But it’s been… awhile.”

“What’s the saying? Something about riding a bicycle?”

But in truth, it’s more than just the fact that it’s been awhile. Things did not end well with the last person you chose to share yourself with. 

You’ve worked so hard to heal from that relationship, not reinventing yourself so much as peeling back layers of hurt, finding yourself again bit by bit. You’re better now. But even after all of that healing, after finding your place here with the Ministry, after the wonderful surprise of falling for Copia, the scars of the past have a way of lingering.

Maybe the deepest of those scars is the lingering suspicion that no matter what you do, no one will ever truly want you or love you again. And worse, that you can’t trust anyone who claims that they do.

“It’s just.. I’ve imagined this so many times, and I guess I’ve gotten a bit too in my head about it. Wanting it to be perfect. And I’m afraid of doing something wrong. Of not”--and here’s the heart of it, the scary, vulnerable thing that you don’t want to admit–“of not being good enough for you.”

And now you are crying, when all you wanted to do was fuck your boyfriend like a normal person.

“Oh, topina.” Copia pulls you close, rolling onto his back to nestle you snug against his chest. “How could you ever think that you’re not good enough?”

“But you could have anyone you want,” you sob.

“You flatter me,” Copia chuckles. “But say that is true. I can have anyone I want. And where am I right now?”

“Here?”

“Yes, here. And who am I with?”

You sniffle. “Me?”

“Yes, you. And there is no one else I would rather be with. You are so precious to me. I feel lucky to have you in my bed.”

Your heart flutters at his tender words.

“And what I want, more than anything, is to make you feel good. To give you the pleasure that you deserve.”

Something considerably lower flutters at that.

“Copia…” 

You wriggle out of his grasp and pull yourself up onto one elbow, one hand resting lightly on his chest as you bend to kiss him again. 

When you break away, he thumbs a stray tear from your cheek and insists, “But I only want to do that if you’re comfortable. So you have to tell me if something makes you uncomfortable, yes?”

You nod down at him. “Yes, Papa.”

He groans low in his throat at your cheeky use of his title, the sound stoking something low in your belly.

“You said that you have been thinking about this night for a long time, tesoro?” 

His hand, resting against your hip, grips you tighter, drawing you closer against him. When he speaks, his words resonate with a note of command. 

“Tell me what you’ve imagined. Tell me how to make this perfect for you.”

This should be mortifying. It should, more than anything else he’s said tonight, activate your urge to run away, to hide. It’s been so long since you’ve really given yourself permission to want, to desire, much less to voice those desires full-throated, absent of shame. You’re so afraid of sounding silly. Of being too much.

But you can tell how turned on he is by you, by the way that your body feels pressed against his, fuck, by the very thought of you entertaining filthy daydreams about him. He wants you. Just as much as you want him.

And so, you push past the shame you have no need to carry any longer, that you never should have been made to carry at all.

Even if you stammer at first. Even if you don’t sound as confident as you wish you did. You find your voice.

“I– I’ve thought about you touching me?”

Copia brings a hand up to caress your face, tracing a feather-light line from cheekbone to chin. “Here?” he asks.

“Lower,” you reply.

“Ah.” His hand trails lower, making you shiver as his fingers skirt along your neck, your collarbone, before finally cupping your breast through your top. “How about here?”

Your mouth falls open in a gasp when he squeezes gently, his thumb sweeping across your nipple. Almost as an afterthought he wedges one thigh between your legs. Even through fabric the contact sends a pulse straight to your core, and you can’t help but grind against him with a whimper.

“What do I do next? In your fantasies?”

“You take off my clothes.” You’re desperate to feel his skin on yours. “And– and you lay me down on the bed.”

He flips you over effortlessly and takes his time undressing you, carefully undoing each button and zipper, revealing your body bit by bit with utmost tenderness. When he hooks his fingers over the waistband of your panties and pulls the silky fabric down your hips, your legs, exposing you completely, he does so with what could never be mistaken for anything but reverence.

Your legs fall open naturally and Copia kneels between them, resting his hands on your thighs, awaiting instruction.

“And now?”

You know that you can have anything you want, but only if you ask for it.

It’s everything you can do to keep your voice steady when you say, barely above a whisper, “And then you go down on me.”

“With pleasure, amore.”

Copia settles himself between your thighs and presses a hand against your mound, firm and grounding, acclimating you to his touch before spreading your lips with skilled fingers and bringing his mouth down to meet your slit. He runs the flat of his tongue up through your slick folds, lapping up your arousal. When you look down at him, he meets your gaze and flicks his tongue over your clit, smirking when you blush and cry out in pleasure.

And then he begins his work in earnest.

You had imagined that it would be good, but your daydreams left you unprepared for this level of skill, for how he would relax into the task before him with a patient eagerness, savoring you, taking the time to bring you ever closer to your peak. 

“Fingers,” you beg, barely coherent, “I need your fingers, please, please, Copia– oh!”

He finds your entrance and presses a finger inside of you, never losing the rhythm of his tongue tracing tight circles around your clit. You’re soaked, and it slides in and out with ease, and it feels so good to have any part of him inside of you, even before he pulls out and then presses back in with another digit, crooking his fingers up to find that spot deep inside of you, hitting it just so as he sucks your nub between his lips, and you’re crying out and twisting your fingers in his hair to pull him closer, and–

Your orgasm overtakes you ruthlessly, wave upon wave of pleasure breaking over you, leaving you a gasping, trembling mess in its wake. Copia crawls up your body to kiss you, letting you taste your own musky sweetness on his tongue.

“Do you want to hear what I’ve been thinking about?” he asks.

You’re unsure of your ability to speak, but you nod eagerly. You’ve never wanted to hear anything more.

“I’ve been thinking about your hands.”

“M-my hands?”

“Sì, your beautiful hands. And how good they would feel wrapped around me.”

How could you do anything in that moment but oblige, reaching down to free him from the confines of his red sweatpants. His cock springs free, what seems almost painfully hard, and you watch with satisfaction as you pump your fist up and down his thick length and pleasure nearly overtakes him. Eyes squeezed shut, he’s clearly struggling to hold back, to stop himself from rutting into your soft palm and coming right now. 

“I’ve also been thinking about your pussy, dolcezza,” he pants. “How good it would taste. How pretty you would look playing with it for me. But mostly what it would feel like to spread it open and fuck it until you come around my cock.”

“Yes, please,” you beg, feeling as though you might die if you don’t get to feel him inside you right now.

The stretch is deliciously intense, even as wet as you are, prepared by his fingers and his tongue. He works himself into you inch by careful, patient inch, until he bottoms out with a groan.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and you nod your assent, whimpering a “yes” as you wrap your legs around his soft waist, urging him on.

You open more and more with each slow, shallow thrust that becomes faster, deeper. There is no room for your self-doubt anymore, no thought to spare for anything that isn’t Copia: his weight on top of you, his mouth against the side of your neck, the scent of his cologne mingling with the salty tang of sweat, the overwhelming pressure of his cock inside of you. 

He murmurs your name with what sounds like wonder, like disbelief that you want this and that you feel so fucking good.

And then he rolls his hips just so, finding an angle that grinds his pelvis into your clit, making you cry out sharply.

“Just like that,” you beg him, breathless, “please don’t stop, please—“

And then you are coming apart again, your head thrown back and your pussy spasming beyond your control.

It’s almost too much for him. He rears back from you, gathering you more firmly in hand, tilting your hips up and gripping your ass to hold you in place as he fucks into you, hard and rough. You’re still reeling from your orgasm as his pace becomes erratic, desperate, and with a sharp snap of his hips his cock kicks inside of you, filling you utterly.

He pulls out and collapses beside you with a sated groan, forearm thrown over his eyes as he comes down, chest heaving, spent cock softening against the curve of his belly. You fold yourself in under his arm, head pillowed against his chest again in a semblance of how you lay earlier as you cried. But now all you feel is love, comfort, and the pleasant soreness creeping through your lower body.

“Well, tesoro…” He settles his arm around you, tracing lazy circles on your skin with the tip of his finger. His voice is unspeakably fond when he asks, “Was that everything you imagined?”

It wasn’t, of course. Your daydreams hadn’t started with you crying awkwardly in his arms. In your daydreams, everything had run as smoothly as a scene in a novel, you the assertive heroine who always knew exactly what to say, without any help.

But maybe, you think, if Copia is the one helping you, that’s okay. Maybe you don’t need to be anyone but yourself, sometimes awkward and insecure, but no less beloved.

And so you are telling the truth when you say, “No. It was better.”

[demonicdames]

A little writing project of mine that I have on A03 that I'm going to throw here to. Rated: E F/M Papa Emeritus II x F!Reader Cardinal Copia x F!Reader Part 1 Part 2

Chapter 3: F, is for friends who-

The weekend was finally here and you had planned to relax and stay in binge-watch your favorite shows and eat junk food, okay well maybe not too much junk food but a fair amount! and better yet you were gonna spend it with your bestie Copia it had felt like forever since you last spent time with him, not since he gave you that folder- when you had taken a quick peek into it there was nothing but invoices and receipts you partly started to think Imperator was fucking with you.

The folder was put away when you heard a knock at your door the being on the other side was of course Copia, who greeted you with a hug he'd brought so many tasty treats. Both of you flopped down onto your couch snuggling up together and settling on some old cheesy rom-com that the both of you could laugh and poke fun at.  None of you accounted for there to be an exceptionally steamy part of the movie in which you two could barely make eye contact while the characters on the television screen went at it. It took you a full two minutes until you remembered that your remote had a mute button. 

"Well that was-." You turned your attention to Copia your next words died in your throat seeing the tent the Cardinal was now sporting, only when he noticed that you were looking did he grab one of the pillows that you kept on your couch to cover his lap with. A laugh exited your mouth and you immediately felt bad considering the gooey mess that was currently between your legs.  "I... I.. I.. I-." He paused to swallow hard, hard enough for you to hear and see his Adam's apple bounce. " I better uh..uh... I better go and take care of this b-before we continue the movie, sì? yes?."  Without letting you answer Copia went to get up the pillow still held over his lap. "I could help you." You suddenly heard your voice say it was like it acted on its own, Copia paused and turned like he usually did on stage you swore he was going to take a tumble, his face flush jaw moving as he attempted to find his own words the poor man looked like a horny fish standing there. 

You giggled rolling your eyes and reaching out taking the pillow from his gloved hands your finger hooked into the waistband of his red lounge pants tugging him closer, his lips parted just slightly mismatched eyes wide, you had this poor man in a trance.  part of you didn't know where this bold bravery came from as you tugged his pants and boxers down just enough for his erection to pop free. "Sor-Sor-Sorella.. you know you don-don't have-."  His words were cut off by a shaky gasp, your tongue slowly running over his cock head Copias hands grabbed at your shoulders to steady himself his face twisted in pleasure, he was sensitive, oh so sensitive and it was a well-known fact that he didn't have a special someone, always buried in paperwork or getting hounded on by Sister Imperator or Nihil, he never had time it seemed. oh, your poor dear friend. 

Copia gave another shuttering breath as you sucked him into your mouth swallowing him down halfway. "C-Cazzo-."  He cursed his legs moving to gain some more stability as you swallowed him completely down your nose pressed against his body, Copia whimpered as your hands reached up to cup and massage his ass squeezing each cheek.  "Your-your mouth feels so good mio caro." The cardinal moaned eyes closed, at that moment you felt your phone buzz in your pocket having silenced it for the movie, while sucking your friend off your eyes glanced at the screen after fishing it out. 

One new message from: Secondo

Txt: Sorella, I know it is your day off but I will be needing your assistance in the office.  Taking Copia deep into your throat you texted back quickly.  Txt: Can't sorry spending day with friend already planned sorry

your phone was placed back into your pocket your attention now fully on Copia, you'd be lying if you said his moans didn't turn you on more or the whimpery Italian babble falling past his lips. You pulled back panting his cock falling free from your mouth the cardinal grunting at the loss, "You know Copia." You started as your fingers ran along his throbbing need.  "Y-Yes sorella?." He asked his chest still heaving. "I do have condoms in my room." The next moment you both were kissing feverishly down the hall toward your room articles of clothing marking the path from couch to room, you pushed Copia down onto your bed watching both him and his cock bounce on impact before going through your nightstand finding one of the foil wrapped contraceptives, you could feel Copias hand rub over the swell of your ass as you tore it open.

Straddling his hips you worked the slick rubber over the Cardinal's cock, sweet Lucifer you needed him inside of you, you could feel your slick walls throb in excitement lifting your hips you sank onto him slowly feeling his cock stretch you have to pause a moment before settling on him. "Oh fuck." Your voice was breathless 'Having a big dick had to be a dominant fucking gene' crossed your mind feeling hands slide up to rest on your hips.  "T-Tesoro are you- okay?." You have no idea why that made your chest throb at the concern in his mismatched eyes 'it's was just sex, just sex, friendly sex' you thought to yourself as you nodded. "I am I am." You breathed hands resting on him as you moved your hips gasping his name, okay perhaps you could just pretend at least for a little while. Your moans grew louder as Copia's hips arched to meet each of your thrusts your bed below creaking and groaning. 

Copia pulled you down into a kiss, one that grew even more feverish than before as he rolled you both over settling you under him. You were about to see a side of this man that you didn't know existed as he grabbed your hips his thrusts growing faster and harder hitting at your core, abusing your poor cervix with each slam. 

 "Cazzo...cazzo- cara mia you take my dick so well." Copia panted hooking his hands behind your knees and bringing your knees up, the new position seeming to allow him to get deeper cursing your hands moved to grab at the sheets of your bed, you could feel that pressure winding up. "I-I'm cl- cloooossee!." You moaned voice bouncing each time Copias hips collided with yours.   "Yes yes, Tesoro cum with me!." Copia gasped out his thrusts becoming erratic until you both met your ends your back arching off the bed crying the cardinal's name out into the night. He had to catch his breath before pulling out of you and disposing of the filled condom, rolling to the side you expected him to get dressed and leave like Secondo but you were shocked into silence as he climbed back into bed with you his bare chest pressed against your back an arm laid over you, wrapped around you a lazy kiss being pressed against your neck making you giggle and twitch at the tickle of his mustache. 

This was something... entirely new being enveloped in his warmth, held close and not falling asleep in a cold bed, blinking your eyes slowly closed as sleep took hold of you, out in the living room an unread text read. 'Very well then, I expect to see you tomorrow Sorella.'

--- To be Continued--

[daredvssy]

Insatiable

I've been really struggling to finish writing anything over the past few months, but this idea has been consuming me ever since the copia rizzchat on twitter was discussing it. So, for your enjoyment- approximately 1500 words of Copia being a 🐱 eating fiend. If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Ship: Papa Emeritus IV x Reader

Rating: 18+!!!!!! No minors PLEASE!

Wordcount: 1530

Warnings: smut, f!receiving oral sex, overstimulation, dom!copia

Throughout the course of your relationship with him, you had come to know that there were a lot of things to love about Copia. He was an incredibly hard worker, who had earned every bit of power allowed to him by his position as Papa; and it was a role that he excelled in. He could command large crowds with ease, and there were very few at the Ministry who would not bend to his will should he decide he wanted something.

 Despite this, he was still an awkward, rather silly man, constantly making you laugh at his antics. He was extremely kind hearted. He cared very deeply for those who looked to him for leadership within the Ministry. You had no doubt he would do almost anything for any of the siblings who lived at the abbey. 

His love for his pet rats was one of the things that had drawn you to him in the first place; you had never seen anyone who treated the small creatures with the reverence he did. He was an incredible listener too; you could always tell you had his full attention whenever you spoke to him. 

As a partner he was as close as a person could get to perfect, as far as you could tell. He always found ways to let you know he was thinking about you throughout his busy day, and no matter how much he had on his plate he always made a point to set aside time to spend with you. 

Yes, there were plenty of reasons to love Copia. Though right now, one of those reasons had your attention more than all the others: the man was a pussy eating fiend. 

At any possible opportunity he would be in between your legs drinking you down like he needed it to survive. He'd go for hours if you let him, making you cum over and over until you had nothing left to give. It was almost like he was doing it solely for his own benefit, and your pleasure was just a fortunate side effect of him taking what he wanted from you. 

Today he seemed particularly desperate for you. He had been working you over for what felt like an eternity. After he gave you not one but two mind-shattering orgasms with no signs of stopping you had made the mistake of reaching down to push his head away reflexively in your overstimulated state.

Doing so had lost you the privilege of having your hands free. He had tied your hands to the headboard above you and was back between your legs, sucking on your clit as though his life depended on it. 

You looked down at him as he worked his tongue around your sensitive nub. His hair was disheveled, and there was more of his papal paint smeared on your thighs than there was left on his face. While you were fully naked and vulnerable, exposed to him, he had only partially undressed; his jeans and vest had been discarded on the floor, but his shirt hung from his frame unbuttoned. He was rutting against the bed through his boxers as he ate you out, little grunts of pleasure escaping him as he worked. The sight of him like this would have been too much for you even if he wasn’t currently latched onto your overstimulated clit. You thrashed against your restraints, bucking your hips involuntarily. 

"None of that, dolce," he snarled, pinning your hips to the bed with an iron grip before returning his attention to your drenched core, shoving his tongue deep into your cunt. 

A pathetic, keening noise escaped you, your eyes rolling back in your head as he worked his tongue within you, his nose stimulating your clit just enough that you found yourself rapidly approaching your third orgasm of the evening.

"Oh, fuck Papa," you whimpered, the overwhelming sensations making your legs start to shake.

"That's it, tesoro, come for me again," he instructed, pulling back for a moment before returning his attention to your clit once more, sucking around the sensitive bud. 

You were almost instantly thrown over the edge, your back arching and a stream of incoherent babbling escaping you as your mind went fuzzy with the overwhelming pleasure. 

Copia diligently worked you through your orgasm, continuing to suck on your clit as you came down from your high. As the haze of your orgasm cleared, you came to the horrifying realization that he still wasn’t done with you yet; the feeling of his mouth against you sending bolts of sensation through you like a hot knife. 

You once again thrashed helplessly against your restraints, crying out as you fruitlessly attempted to clamp your legs shut to stop his onslaught. He was having none of that though, and your efforts were met with a snarl as he wrenched your thighs open once more so he could continue. 

"Papa, Papa please, please Papa" you begged him, your voice hoarse as your eyes began to well with tears. He leaned back for a moment to consider you, giving you a momentary reprieve from the burning pleasure he was giving you. 

"Do you need to use your word, amore?" he asked, considering you seriously. 

"No Papa," you replied, tearfully but honestly. 

"Then you will give me one more," he said sternly, beginning to lightly apply pressure to your oversensitive clit with his gloved thumb. Your hips stuttered involuntarily in response, your body unsure if it wanted to move closer or further away from his ministrations. 

"I don't know if I can Papa," you whimpered, practically panting at this point. 

"You want to be good for me, yes? You want to please me?"

"Yes Papa."

"Then you will do as you are told," he demanded harshly, leaning in to lick you with a flat tongue. 

You whined in response, but didn't argue the issue any further, trying with all your might to relax into the sensation of his tongue laving over you. He continued lapping at you in broad strokes. Normally this would only serve to tease you, but in your current state even that was almost too much, you had to fight to keep yourself still for him. Your efforts did not go unnoticed. 

"You're being so good tesoro," Copia praised you inbetween licks. His praise reignited something within you, and you could feel something begin to build slowly in your core. 

"Oh, Papa," you whined, fully overwhelmed. "It's so much."

"Shhh, I know, dolce. Don't worry, Papa is going to help you," he said in mock sympathy. He brought two of his gloved fingers up to your opening, easily sliding them up within you. You cried out, clenching around the intrusion as he began to slowly pump them in and out fluidly, grazing your sweet spot each time. 

As he returned to lapping gently at your overstimulated clit, he gradually began to increase the speed at which he worked his fingers in and out of you. Very suddenly, you felt as though you were right back on the edge; the burning, gentle lapping of his tongue against your clit and his talented fingers repeatedly brushing up against that spot inside you proving to be just what you needed to get there. 

"Are you going to come for me now, dolce?" he asked, already knowing the answer.. 

"Yes, Papa, yes," you practically sobbed.

"Good, you're doing so good. Let go," he encouraged in a low, soothing voice. 

You didn't fall off the edge so much as you were yanked over, set fully adrift by the burning pleasure that ran through your full body as you clenched around his fingers. 

As you came back down to Earth you were vaguely aware of Copia releasing a shuddering moan against you; he had come against the bed from how he rutted against it as he had tormented you. You let out a weak whine at this realization. 

Copia only took a moment for himself to recover before he was crawling up the bed, reaching over you to release your wrists from their restraints. You let your arms flop back against the bed, feeling boneless after how he had worked you over. 

"You did so well for me my dear, so very good," he praised, brushing a stray hair back behind your ear. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and you hummed a happy sound into the kiss. 

As he pulled back, breaking the kiss, a small smile graced his expression, his eyes shone with adoration as he studied you for a moment. 

"How do you feel, amore?" he asked. 

"So good. And so tired," you mumbled, a sleepy grin plastered to your face.

"Is there anything you need, tesoro? Anything I can get you?"

In lieu of a verbal response you reached for him with grabby hands. He quickly got the hint, moving to lay beside you with an arm raised in offering. You wasted no time in snuggling up to him, burying your face in his chest as he brought his arm down around you to hold you.  You drifted to sleep in his arms, feeling sated, happy, and safe.

[leezlelatch]

Petrichor - Part I

Papa Emeritus III x F!Reader - fluff, rainy days, burgeoning friendship Terzo is feeling introspective on a rainy day. Perhaps he doesn’t have to spend it alone?

“What do you think Terzino, eh? Should Papa play tonight?” Terzo watches with a lazy smile as the tuxedoed cat jumps from his perch on the window to settle into his lap. Long fingers stroke delicately through plush fur as he heaves a sigh. “You will be getting hair on my pants, you rascal.”

Terzino blinks slowly, a rumble starting deep in his throat the more Terzo gives him attention. The cat’s nails dig into Terzo’s leg as the little thing gets more comfortable, the man giving a small grimace but making no move to push the cat off. “You know, I am thinking I am getting old.” Terzo glances down at the cat and scoffs. “Ah, do not try to argue. I have more grey hair than I can keep up with.“ He lifts a hand to his neck, his fingers brushing the soft, loose skin. “And may have to consider turtle necks.”

Terzino stands and stretches, his little body shivering, before turning and lying toward Terzo’s knee, facing away from him. “Ah, Terzino, if you turn from me too, I will not know what to do,” Terzo sighs, lifting a hand to drag his fingers through his wavy, black hair. “The Siblings, they like the power. What little I have of it, ha. But one can close their eyes and think of someone else. Do they think of someone else?” His brow furrows, and he glances out the arched window, eyes scanning the manicured lawn. “Perhaps I should take up gardening like il mio fratello.”

He glances down amusedly. “Sì, you are right, amico. I am far too much of a masochist to change my ways now.”

Terzo carefully picks the cat up and places him down, standing from his desk and swatting at his pant leg until most, but not all, of the cat hair is gone. The tinkle of Terzino’s bell sings through the room as he trots away, perhaps to play with one of Copia’s little companions. Terzo places his hands on his hips, looking out the window once more. “I think it is going to rain.”

ᰔᩚ

It was luck, finding this place. The way his shoes clack against old stone, the gilded candle holders on the corridor walls covered in wax from wicks long burnt. Stained glass of varying shades of purple, red, blue, and green. There were some renovations made when the Clergy first purchased the building half a century ago. Cracks filled in the walls, ceilings reinforced, foundation repaired, but they ultimately chose to maintain its old warm charm. This place may have a Catholic history, but Terzo did not view that as bad, or something needing to be cleansed. There was an energy in these old walls, full of the stories of residents long passed who prayed, and hoped, and dreamed for a better tomorrow. It would not do, he thinks, to forget that. No matter if their god was above or below.

The corridor leading from his office transitioned into a breezeway, four pillars covered in the delicate drawings of one of their more artistic Siblings opened into one of the inner courtyards. A perfect place to watch the rain. A crack of thunder rolls across the sky, and Terzo glances up at the swirling clouds, leaning his shoulder against painted vines. It seems, however, that he would not be alone with his thoughts this storm.

You sit on a stone bench just under the roof, your legs pulled up, arms resting on your knees as you hold a cup of tea in your hands. There’s an open book at your feet, and Terzo catches a glimpse of a few words which makes him arch a brow. “Hello,” he says, his accent curling around the words. “You know, I have heard it be called very dirty words, but never ‘velvet wrapped steel.’ That is a new one.”

You glance up, your lips quirking in a half smile. You cross your legs and lean forward, setting your bookmark between the pages and closing your book. “Sort of makes you feel like you’re grabbing a stick shift in an old car.”

Terzo pauses for a moment, just looking at you, before he tilts his head back and laughs. A deep, belly laugh, dragging out the final note with a shake of his head as he leans forward. He crosses his arms and clicks his tongue. “That is very funny. Yes. Well, sometimes it is like handling a stick shift. Satan forbid you stall.”

“Pfft,” you snort and shake your head, your smile growing. You glance up at the sky as another rumble of thunder echoes overhead. Pinpricks of rain dot the ground, ever so slowly increasing. “Come to watch the rain, Papa?”

“It appears we had the same idea,” he nods, watching intently as the rain flicks the leaf of a plant growing in the little garden some of the Siblings tend to. “Perhaps you intended to watch the rain alone?”

“I intended,” you say, tilting your head a little as you regard him with a curious air. “But this is better.” Terzo glances back at you, his heavy brow slanting down. He takes a few steps toward you, slow and deliberate. You take a moment to glance over him, appreciating the slacks, loose black button up, and the brocade evening jacket draped over his shoulders.

“Better how?” He asks, his voice genuinely curious. “And what is that look for, eh? Admiring Papa?” It wasn’t just a superficial question. She could see his face, a rare sight without the paint, the lines deepening around his mouth. His strangely beautiful eyes burn into yours and you understand that he’s serious. It isn’t playful banter.

“I don’t get to talk to you,” you answer truthfully, sincere in the small smile you give him. “Your attention is usually taken, and I understand that there are more Siblings in this building than clergy. You can only get to so many people.” His frown deepens, and you continue. “So it’s nice. It’s nice to talk to you. I want to watch the rain with you.”

“Cara mia, you can request time, you know this, sì? I have office hours. Please do not be thinking you cannot come to me,” Terzo talks with his hands, his fingers waving in the air, punctuating his words. He looks so concerned, his body angled toward you, features twisted in worry.

You huff a laugh, shaking your head as you adjust on the bench. “I’m okay, Papa, really. I just mean I can’t come by to say hello, or make an appointment only to chat.”

“Why not?” Terzo shoulders rise and fall and he stands with one foot forward, hands on his hips. “You are more than welcome to come and say hello. Antichristus, and here I was thinking I come on too strong. Unless, that is the problem?” He looks at you, and you have to smile from the sheer befuddlement on his face. But you can tell, also, that he’s hurt. And that doesn’t make you feel good either.

“No. Papa-“

“Terzo,” he corrects you, sitting down at the end of the bench next to your feet. He rests his hands on his legs and gives you his full attention, and it’s altogether exhilarating and nerve-wracking. You’ve never spoken to a Papa like this, for this long, outside of anything that really has to do with your duties or other Ministry matters. It makes you blush, and Terzo takes notice, leaning a little closer to watch the pink pass over your cheeks with great interest. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“I would explain if you let me get a word in,” you say, not unkindly, your lips pulled into a gentle smile. Terzo chuckles to himself and nods, waving a hand in your direction, and then he pinches his fingers and pulls them across his lips in a zipping motion. “Thank you,” you continue lightly, laughing. “What I mean to say is, yes, I’m nervous. And it’s not for reasons you think. I don’t think you’re unapproachable. I don’t think you would show me any unkindness or give me reason to believe you aren’t totally invested in what I have to say.”

Your eyes pass over his face, taking in his dark features, and you briefly wonder why he doesn’t wear his paints less. His face is aging to be sure. Pocked and marked and wrinkled, but he is so expressive. So soft in the curve of his mouth. The way his lashes brush his cheeks when he blinks. His white eye, meant to be intimidating, reminds you of freshly fallen snow. The warmth of a cup of hot chocolate on a winter’s day near Yule. It was truly beautiful, and you realize you’ve stopped talking.

But Terzo doesn’t move. He doesn’t prompt you to continue, he just stares back. The rain falls around you in heavy drops, a steady stream that wets the ground and mists your faces as it bounces off the stonework.

“I think I would fool myself into thinking that we could be friends,” you finish, your voice soft, caught in some kind of new understanding, a breath of realization. Terzo tilts his head very slightly, and he pulls in a sigh.

“Friends,” he murmurs, as if the word is foreign to him. His eyes fall away from yours and he focuses on nothing as he processes your words. And then he’s looking back at you and smiling, and it only occurs to you then that you’ve never quite seen his smile reach his eyes the way it does now. “Not many peoples wish to be my friend, dolcezza.”

“You are very frequently surrounded by people.”

“Yes, but what is that saying, eh? You can be in a room of people and still be alone. I am an old man, as much as I cover this face,” he gestures to himself. “Or dye my hair. I have my brothers, sì, but they are not so understanding at times. It has been many years since I have had someone who I can talk to as Terzo and not as Papa.”

“Someone your own age?” You ask quietly, expecting rejection.

His lips soften. “Not necessarily.”

You smile, and look out over the courtyard as thunder once more cracks overhead. The scent of rain and wet soil fills your nostrils, and you feel very at peace. For a moment your heart is full sitting next to this man. “I’m a Sibling, and I know I’m supposed to act a certain way around my authority figures. But sometimes when you’re giving a sermon, or I see you at events, or feast days, I just want to know if you think the potato salad is as delicious as I do, or if you wished whoever was in charge of the playlist would stop, for the love of all that’s unholy, playing Cruel Summer.” You laugh, and Terzo laughs with you. “I want to know who you are, and I don’t know if that’s okay.”

Terzo taps your shoe with an amused smile, and he looks happy. He looks like you just told him he won the lottery, his eyes sparkling with a kind of glee. “You know, just this morning I was talking to Terzino about this very thing. He said I should be more open. Open to change, which I scoffed at. Papa cannot change, not now. Not so late in his life, yeah? But…” He reaches a hand out into the pouring rain, watching the water cascade over his skin. “Rain renews. And I think I am ready for something new.”

He brings his hand back in, and grasps yours, a few droplets falling between you onto your closed book. “It is more than okay, amica. Now, tell me about this smut.”

You squeeze his hand, your fingers sliding over his slick skin. You smile. “Your cat talks to you?”

Terzo pinches the top of your hand and you gasp, swatting at him. He laughs, low in his throat, a wild brow arching. “Shush.”