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ghulehunknown · 4 months

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Mistletoe’d: Papa Emeritus III x F Reader

“Papa’s going to be coming down your chimney tonight.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 (coming soon!)

**WARNING - NSFW CONTENT - MDNI**

Summary: After the Ministry Christmas party, you join Terzo in his bedchamber for some festive activities.

CW/Tags: characters drinking alcohol, established relationship, clothed female nude male, blowjob, penetrative sex (P in V), condom use, cunnilingus, face-sitting, face fucking

Word Count: 4381

Available on AO3! Primo | Secondo | Terzo | Copia

Author’s Note: This is the third day of the four-part series XXXmas at the Ministry, a collaboration with @copias-sewer-rat, @molly-ghuleh, and @bupia - please read their works too!

Happy Hornidays! ❄️

xoxo, the Naughty Ghulehs 💋

Primo | Secondo | Copia

A HUGE thank you to AlexandrMcQueer on Twitter for the accompanying artwork! Check out the full NSFW version on her account.

Tonight was finally the night of the annual Ministry Christmas party, and Christmas Eve. Papa needed your help to pull everything off, so all week you were scheduling with the bakers, the cooks, the cleaning crew, and decorating.

But after this evening, you could relax. Well, aside from tending to Papa’s needs and making sure the ghouls didn’t get too soused that it ruined their unholiday in the morning. But after the party, you could enjoy the festivities.

Everyone began milling about and socializing in the main hall, picking at the large charcuterie spread and ladling punch or eggnog into glasses. It looked like everyone from the Clergy was there. Even Imperator and Nihil showed up, though they did not seem too sociable, seating themselves at a table in the corner. Primo immediately sat himself in one of the few chairs scattered around the hall with a large mug of something warm.

Suddenly the ghouls began whooping and you turned your head to see Terzo enter in a lavish looking Santa suit - it was made of crushed red velour with flecks of red sparkles and appeared to be trimmed with white feathers.

“Nice suit, Terzo,” you quipped, eyeing him up and down as he approached you.

“That’s Papa Claus to you, principessa,” he said with a snarky grin and giving you a smooch on the lips. “And you’re Santa’s little helper.”

That you were. He’d ordered you the shortest green elf dress, although the skirt was more like a tulle tutu. The outfit was a whole ensemble, complete with an elf hat with ears, pointy shoes with bells on the end, and candy cane patterned tights. You felt ridiculous, but ’tis the season.

Everyone was in their best holiday attire - anything from ugly Christmas sweaters to formal wear. The ghouls were all dressed in elf costumes, with the exception of Dew, who was dressed as Rudolph - an antler headband fitted over his mask and a red nose strapped to the front of his mask.

Cardinal Copia was wearing an old Saint Nick red and gold cloak over his red cassock, and a poorly made attachable white beard. Secondo was dressed in an all black 3 piece suit that had a subtle fleur de lis pattern, and was chatting with one of Primo’s ghouls.

The night went on, and you were actually managing to have fun. The ghouls turned one of the snack tables into a flip cup station (much to your dismay as you shuffled the catering staff carrying fresh trays of food back into the kitchen) and several of the Siblings started Christmas karaoke, with a very drunk-looking Copia taking the lead.

Terzo flitted between you and the rest of the guests, chatting with various Clergy members (and skillfully dodging Imperator each time). He snuck up behind you, squeezing your ass.

“Make sure these old fucks are having fun, eh?” he said lowly in your ear, nodding backwards to the senior members of the Clergy.

“And just how am I supposed to do that?” you said, one eyebrow raised, his hand still under your skirt.

He winked at you, handing you a bottle of opened bourbon before cupping your ass cheek in his hand and rubbing it. “We’ll cheers soon, then I can have you all to myself.” He leaned in closer to whisper in your ear. “Papa’s going to be coming down your chimney tonight.”

He clapped you on the ass then darted between people again. “Everybody - eggnog!” he shouted towards the crowd, raising his arms up. He was herding everyone to the center. You thought you might die on the spot from your cheeks burning red, but everyone was paying attention to him - thank Satan.

As everyone poured themselves another glass and gathered, you went around and splashed a bit of bourbon in everyone’s cup.

“Some bourbon for your eggnog, Cardinal?” you asked Copia, approaching him with the bottle.

“Eh, none for me,” he said, hiccuping and covering his glass. “It’s strong enough as it is! I’ve had th-three already.”

“It’s nonalcoholic, Cardinal,” you responded, blinking at him. He looked puzzled and walked away.

You made your way over to Primo who was almost snoozing in his chair. “Papa Primo?” you asked, holding the bottle out, gesturing towards his half empty mug. You weren’t sure if he was dressed like Scrooge on purpose or if those were just his pajamas but he mumbled something that sounded like “Bah,” and shook his head swiftly, the tassel at the end of his nightcap swinging around.

Everyone was standing in a semicircle around Terzo, who for once seemed just slightly lost for words. “Well, uh - shit,” he began, eliciting a few chuckles from the crowd. “I do not know what else to say, other than it’s been a fucking great year. We had two fantastic tours, and we’ll be continuing into next year… I, eh - met someone very dear.” He glanced at you briefly before continuing. “We won a motherfucking Grammy…!”

The ghouls whooped and cheered while the Siblings and other Clergy members clapped. You glanced over in the corner. Even Imperator seemed pleased - maybe.

“Sì, sì it has been phenomenal. You should all be very pleased with yourselves. So pleased in fact I think you should all celebrate, in eh, whatever means you choose to do. And if I do not see you all before the New Year, have an unblessed holiday. Now, we toast! Tomorrow morning we will celebrate our Savior’s birth. But for tonight, we sin.” He held up his glass and the others did the same. “To Lucifer!”

“To Lucifer,” you said, chiming in with a chorus of voices. You swallowed your bourbon-eggnog concoction - mostly bourbon by your heavy hand, you found as you winced slightly, the liquor burning down your throat. You didn’t drink much and this was your first holiday gathering at the Ministry. Next month would mark your first full year here, and the first time you laid eyes upon him - your Terzo.

“Eh, see you next year, Papa!” piped up Copia, still hiccuping as he nodded and ducked out of the crowd. You smiled at the Cardinal’s little joke. Terzo stopped in his tracks for just a moment and acknowledged Copia before walking away.

He rolled his eyes as he walked towards you then his face brightened. “Hello,” he said, standing very close to you.

“Hi, Papa,” you said, smiling at him and holding up the last bit of bourbon, swishing it in the bottle. “Saved the last for you.”

“Mmm,” he said, leaning in to kiss you. “How much? I need to keep my stamina for later.”

You took a swig and shuddered - Satanas, you still couldn’t drink straight liquor. “Not much now.” He chuckled at you and took the bottle from your hand, knocking back the rest. You coughed a couple of times and reached for some party punch, completely forgetting the one you reached for also had alcohol and coughed again.

He patted you soothingly on the back and asked, “Are you okay, tesorina?”

You nodded, finally grabbing the nonalcoholic punch and chugging some.

“Will Papa have to take care of his little elf this evening?” he said, trailing the back of his index finger over your cheek.

“No, Papa,” you said, clearing your throat. “I’ve barely had anything.”

“Good. I have a surprise for you tonight, amore.”

“Hm. Any hint?” you asked coyly.

“Not a fucking clue. Come to my room in five minutes just as you are.” He picked up a handful of hard candies from the snack table and popped a few in his mouth, staring at you while walking backwards a few paces before turning around and heading down the hall.

You continued to mingle with the other Siblings, trying hard to conceal your blushing cheeks but to no avail.

“Someone’s excited about something,” one said.

“It’s nothing,” you murmured.

“Come on - spill!”

“Well, Terzo and I -”

“Terzo?” said another.

“Oooooh!” the others said in a singsong tone almost in unison.

“He said he has a surprise for me, in his room.”

“So you graduated from office visits to home visits now?” asked the first Sibling, looking impressed.

“Well…I’ve seen his bedroom a few times,” you said, not willing to divulge the full truth just yet. You’d been spending most of your nights in his room and sneaking back into the Siblings’ quarters early in the morning. Even though each Sibling had their own room, you knew your Sisters would hear the door to the suite open.

“I think this is the most serious he’s been with anyone,” said the second Sibling. “I’ve been here a few years and usually he’s done with his fling after two months. But you’ve stuck around.” You shook your head, not willing to believe this hype only to be let down. You just wanted to live in the moment and enjoy what you had with Terzo. “You should go - you don’t want to keep him waiting.”

You smiled and bid your fellow Siblings goodbye as they all made lewd gestures to imitate various sex acts and waved you off, wishing you luck.

You walked down the silent and dark corridors, passing ghouls and Siblings alike shrouded in the shadows to have their midnight dalliances, no doubt egged on by the holiday cheer and the alcohol. You smiled, thinking about not having to hide in a hallway like when you first started dating him. Now you had his entire bedroom to have your sultry romps.

You opened his door and walked into his Papal suite, the familiar lush decor and smell of mahogany filling your senses. You passed by the small and elegantly decorated Christmas tree by the fireplace. You wondered just what his surprise might be when you saw him propped up against the wall, a rose in his mouth and —

What was that?

He was dressed in his Santa jacket and hat, with nothing else on - save one thing. Your eyes trailed along his upper body then snapped to what was in between his legs. On the end of his throbbing hard cock was some mistletoe, tied around his shaft by a red ribbon and a little gold bell below it. He waggled his eyebrows and at the same time isolated his pelvic muscles to make his cock bob up and down, tinkling the bell.

“How long have you just been standing there all hard waiting for me?”

His face fell momentarily and he took the rose out of his mouth. “I thought you would like it.”

“I do!” you said, suppressing laughter as best as you could while stepping towards him. You held onto the lapels of his jacket and leaned in. “I do.” He smiled again, a smug look of satisfaction washing over him.

“Good,” he said, handing you the rose. “Because you’re going to get stuffed and glazed just like Secondo’s honey ham.”

You bit your bottom lip, smiling. “But I don’t think it’ll be quite as delicious as you, amore.”

“It should be. I’ve been eating a lot of pineapple for this.”

“Really? Then I’ll have to taste it for myself,” you said, feeling the heat pool at your core.

He cupped your face in his hands, kissing you deeply, slipping his tongue in. You weren’t sure where to place your hands so you held onto the rose with one hand, the other in his hair. He swiftly brought you closer to him, his quivering cock poking at your thigh under your tulle skirt.

“Mm!” you said, surprised at feeling his hardness brush against you.

“Well,” he said, pulling away to look at you. “It’s not going to kiss itself, tesoro.” He twitched his cock again, making it bob up and down and wagged his hips side to side, making it shake the other direction and sounding the bell.

You eyed him slyly as you bent down, gently falling to your knees before him and placing the rose on the floor. You took his cock in your hand and began stroking his length, eyeing the perfect pink tip at the end. Each time you stroked him, the bell would chime.

“Oh cazzo,” he sighed, leaning his head back, his lips parted.

You flicked the tip of your tongue against the head of his cock and watched his abdominal muscles contract. He was like putty in your hands.

“You like that, amore?” you asked teasingly, his shaft in your palm.

He glared at you from the corner of his eye. “Stai zitto,” he said through moans as you continued to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock. But you could swear you saw a smirk pull at the corner of his mouth as he said this.

You closed your eyes as you took his entire length in your mouth, sliding him in and out and clutching onto his hips. The little leaves on the mistletoe tickled your nose each time the bottom of his cock reached your lips.

Clink! Clink! went the bell each time you slid him in and out of your mouth.

He started to whimper and moan quietly, his eyes closed in pleasure. His hand was on the back of your head, gripping your hair tighter the faster you went. At one point he began thrusting into your mouth, probably no longer able to contain himself.

Clink! Clink! ClinkClinkClinkClinkCLINKCLINK

“Mmm!” you mumbled around his cock as the greenery around his member assaulted your face over and over, scratching your nose and cheeks a little bit each time. CLINK.

Your eyes welled with tears as he hit the back of your throat repeatedly. CLINK. At this point you were hardly doing any work, just kneeling there and being used as a vessel. CLINKCLINK

“Satanas you’re going to make me cum like that,” he panted as he continued pushing his hips into your face.

You smiled around him - well as best as you could - and brought him closer by gripping his ass cheeks.

“Ah - cazzo!” he exclaimed, suddenly pulling out of your mouth and panting.

“Terzo?” you asked, trying to look up but you were unable to as his hand remained on your head as he used you to prop himself up and regain composure.

“I can’t cum too soon and ruin the evening, no?” he said, standing up straight and helping you up off the floor. “Not when I haven’t even taken care of you.”

You kissed his laughter lines around his mouth as he spoke, his Papal makeup smudged from your kisses earlier. “You always take such good care of me.”

He turned to face you and held you in an embrace, kissing you passionately again, his hands roaming all over your body. He began to massage your breasts through your costume, building the arousal between your legs even more. Your breathing quickened as you both moaned into each other’s mouths.

“Fuck this fucking blouse,” he said breathlessly, breaking away and tearing at the front of your green cardigan, the buttons flying across his floor - eliciting a ‘Shit!’ from you. “Mmm!” he mumbled, kissing you again, pawing at your chest.

He fumbled around your back at your bra clasp, unhooking it after a couple of tries. You urgently slid the straps off your shoulders and tossed the bra to the floor. He bent down to take your nipple in his mouth, circling his tongue around it and sucking. He alternated, pinching the other one between his fingers.

“Oh Terzo,” you sighed, running your hands through his hair, fiddling with the silver strands peppering his raven hair. He’d never admit to it, but you saw the box dye left on his bathroom counter.

Instinctively you squeezed your legs together, alleviating some of the need to touch yourself. You felt your heart race and a shiver run down your spine.

“Fuck me, please Papa,” you sighed, breath trembling.

“Mm?” he said, glancing up at you between your breasts with a glint in his eyes. He kissed all over your chest, up your neck and finally, your lips. “Is la mia principessa ready for her Papa to fuck her brains out, hm?”

“Yes Papa, please,” you said, still in a breathy whisper. “Fuck me.”

He nodded his head towards the bathroom and glanced over. “Go get a condom and meet me in bed. I’ll get the lube.”

“Why are there none in our nightstand drawer?”

“‘Our?’”

“Shit. You know what I meant.”

He grinned. “Ti stai dimenticando? We used them all last night and I didn’t have time to take some more out.”

Slightly embarrassed at your gaffe, you made your way into the bathroom and started opening drawers. “Where did you put the box?”

“Bottom drawer!” he called out.

Did he think differently of you now? Would he think you were too presumptuous and want to call the whole thing off? Or potentially, were you just overthinking things as usual? “Found it! Oh fuck, shit!”

“Sorella?” He sounded concerned and rushed over to find you on your hands and knees kneeling near the toilet.

“Almost got it!” You had dropped the roll of condom wrappers behind the toilet and had wedged yourself between it and the vanity. “Help me, Terzo!”

“Ah, I see now,” he said slyly. “Call for me in a panic just so you can entrap me.”

“What? Terzo, no, I really do need help, I drop- ”

“Sì, I can help,” he said, kneeling down behind you, his cock right up against your ass.

“It’s just, argh!”

“Argh!” he imitated you, running his hands all along your body.

“It’s right there I can’t - reach - !”

“Has anyone told you how sexy you look with your ass in the air in candy cane tights?”

You rolled your eyes but you knew he couldn’t see. “Er, no - um, thank you. But I dropped the condoms behind the toilet.”

He craned his neck to see. “Ah. This is quite the pickle we are in. You with your hand behind the toilet and your ass against my cock.”

“No, I believe it’s your cock against my ass.”

“What am I to do, tesorina? What should a Papa do when finding his lover in a compromising position, hm?” He leaned down and trailed kisses along your back, momentarily freezing your arm from the continued search of the condoms.

“Fuck…” you whispered, feeling his mouth move further south and his hands finding their way around your waist.

“What’s that, bella? You think Papa should fuck you? You called me in such a panic earlier that I did not bring the lube…mmm, what should we do?” he said, kissing you just above your ass. “Is la mia principessa ready?”

Your body ached with desire. You needed him inside you. He trailed his finger along your tights-covered behind, poking around where your entrance was. “Darling, I think your tights are just a little wet. Let’s see just how wet you are inside.” He gripped the fabric and you heard it ripping apart.

You let out a surprised gasp as the chill air hit your warm, now exposed nether regions. He entered you with a finger and your body shuddered against him as you whimpered quietly.

“Oh yes,” he said in an amused tone. “You are very ready.” He slid out and up to your clit, playing with it gently as you moaned and rocked your body back and forth to feel the friction against his fingers. “So responsive. Una così brava ragazza.”

“Please, Papa,” you said under your accelerated breath. “Please fuck me.”

“Don’t worry amore,” he said, reaching over you and grabbing the sleeve of condoms that you were having trouble getting just moments before. “I will.” He tore off one and ripped it open.

You readjusted yourself on the tile floor so you wouldn’t bang your head against the toilet or the side of the vanity as you heard the crinkle of the wrapper and the clinking of the little bell still attached to his dick.

“Oh FUCK!” you both said in unison as he entered you. He slammed into your dripping cunt with such ease, you felt him bottom out immediately. The tingle of the mistletoe against your clit heightened the sensation.

Clink! Clink! Clink! Clink! In and out, in and out. You both moaned each other’s names in pure, unadulterated passion.

“Ah - merda Sorella, you turn me into a teenager again. Fucking on the floor out of sheer desperation for one another.” Now he was so deep inside you the bell muffled against your body. CLUNK. CLUNK. CLUNK.

“So - mmm! - you’re d-desperate for me?” you said teasingly against the cold tile.

“La mia diavoletta pensa di essere così intelligente, eh? È ora che chiudi la bocca.” With that he fucked into you so hard, so fast, you couldn’t say another word. He pushed your head against the floor roughly, your cheek pressed against the cool marble so hard you could feel the grout indent. He nearly knocked the breath out of you as he hit your g-spot perfectly each time, a relentless grip on the back of your head.

“Ohhh - !” you moaned as he rammed into you over and over. CLUNKCLUNKCLUNKCLUNK. He was thrusting faster, riding out his orgasm, his nails digging deeper into your hips.

“Fuck - I’m going to - cum - Sorella - !” He pounded into you, tapering off his speed as he came, his cock twitching a final time before he slumped over your back, breathing heavily.

“Satanas,” he breathed, his chest heaving wildly as he pulled out, your body shuddering under him at the loss. You heard the snap of latex and the condom hitting the trash can liner.

You turned around and sat down, leaning against the toilet. You watched him untie the mistletoe and take it off, tossing it aside. “So how was it, with that?” you asked, nodding towards the discarded plant.

“Honestly? It was a little itchy. It might just be a novelty.” He tossed himself on his back against the floor. He looked at you, his chest still rising and falling from being out of breath. “How was it for you?”

“Honestly? It was a little itchy,” you repeated. You both smiled and laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

“Come here Sorella, I did not intend to leave you wanting. Hop onto Santa’s lap.”

You crawled over to him and straddled his lap, gazing into his eyes.

“What do you want this year for being such a good little girl?” He asked, caressing your arms and looking at your breasts before flicking his eyes up into yours.

“I want…endless kisses…and a mind-blowing orgasm,” you said, leaning down to kiss him.

He returned the smooch. “Mm, I did not know a present for you would also be a present for me. Come closer and sit on Santa’s face…that’s it, Satanas yes please.”

You moved up his body until you were straddling his face, then delicately lowered your body on him, doing your best to move your skirt out of the way.

He sputtered, spitting out the tulle from his mouth and pulling your hips towards his face again. He batted at the layers of fabric, cursing in Italian, before finding your cunt.

Your eyelids flitted closed as your lips parted in a silent “oh.” He took your clit in his mouth and sucked on it between his lips. He alternated between that and flicking your sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue. You looked down to gaze in his eyes but his face was completely hidden under a green tutu.

You began to buck your hips against his face as he used the flat of his tongue, building up the friction and feeling yourself closing in on orgasm. He switched up and deepened the suction on your clit, flicking his tongue against you simultaneously.

“Oh fuck Terzo - fuck, I’m so close!” You rocked back and forth as you pinched your nipples, heightening the sensation.

His fingernails dug into your hips again as he sped up his ministrations. Grabbing ahold of your waist, he slid you along his mouth faster and faster.

“Oh, Terzo!” you cried out in ecstasy, trembling on your knees above him as you came hard and fast in his mouth. He didn’t let up the motions or the intensity until you pulled away, giggling from the overstimulation. You climbed off of him and sat down next to him, both smiling at one another.

“How are you feeling? Good?” he asked, stroking your thigh.

You nodded your head. “Yes, very. But can I lay down next time? I’ve been on my knees an awful long time.” You both laughed.

“There’s Papa’s little hoe hoe hoe,” he said with a devilish grin. “Of course, amore mio. Anything for you.”

You held onto his hand, playfully caressing all his fingers. “It’s been a very good Christmas so far,” you remarked.

“Mmm. And you haven’t even opened your presents yet.”

“There’s more?”

“What, you thought this was it? No Sorella, go look under the tree.”

You eyed him suspiciously as you stood up, legs still a little shaky. You walked out of the bathroom and into the living room.

You hadn’t noticed the presents under the tree earlier, but there were a few. A lot, actually. Somehow even your gifts for him were under there. One of the ghouls or housekeeping staff must have moved them for you.

One caught your attention - a gold envelope poking out from the middle branches of the tree. You reached inside the tree, accidentally sending the package spilling onto the floor. Two plane tickets splayed out on the floor.

You picked them up in wonder - your name was at the top of one, and his on the other. You walked in a daze over to him.

“You did not truly think I would leave you with just my cock for Christmas, did you?” he said, following you out of the bathroom and now leaning against the wall. “I love you, principessa. I call you princess because to me you are. My sweet little thing. I want to give you the world, my world…would Italy be a good start?”

You flung your arms around him, tears in your eyes. “Yes, Terzo. I think that will be an amazing start.”

[Stay tuned for a continuation of this story!]

Italian to English Translations

(la mia) principessa ((my) princess)

tesorina (little treasure/darling)

amore (mio) ((my) love)

cazzo (fuck)

Stai zitto (Shut up)

Ti stai dimenticando? (Are you forgetting?)

Sorella (Sister/nun)

bella (beautiful)

Una così brava ragazza. (Such a good girl.)

merda (shit)

La mia diavoletta pensa di essere così intelligente, eh? È ora che chiudi la bocca. (My little devil girl thinks she’s so smart, eh? It’s time you shut your mouth.)

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my future works!

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howlingday · 1 month

Note

I always love the idea of Jaune being ripped but wearing his Hoodie and other clothes that hide the fact. Like someone picks on Ruby so he takes off his Hoodie for safe keeping and is ripped

As funny an idea that is, it's unfortunately not canon. Jaune was skin and bones when he got to Beacon, trained with Pyrrha, and probably got buff all the way to Atlas, where he switched to his turtleneck. BUT WE DON'T CARE ABOUT CANON HERE!

-----------------------------------------------

Ruby: Stop it~!

The little leader, Ruby Rose, kicked in the air as she whined, held aloft by her hoodie. The offending party, one Cardin Winchester, attempted to relieve her of her cloak. The young man had ceased his bullying habits, after a near-death experience with Jaune Arc, but some habits remained in their place. Such habits included being stubborn, aggressive, and very invasive, even if his intentions were less malicious than before.

Cardin: Come on, Red! I gotta do laundry!

Ruby: I'll do laundry when I'm ready to do laundry!

Cardin: When was the last time you washed this damn thing?!

Ruby: I washed it when I washed it! Now let-

Jaune: LET GO.

The two looked to see Jaune Arc standing with folded arms compounded by an angry look. Cardin immediately dropped Ruby, right on her butt. As she rubbed her rump, she looked up to see Jaune walking up to Cardin with a deep, DEEP scowl.

Cardin: Whoa, whoa, whoa! I wasn't picking on her! I just wanted to get her freakin' hood so it can get washed!

Jaune: Then ask her.

Cardin: I did, but she didn't hand it over!

Jaune: Then let her be. That doesn't mean you try to yank it off of her. (Sighs) But you're doing laundry, right?

Cardin: Yeah? Why?

Without another word, Jaune lifted his hoodie from his body. Beneath the cutesy face of Pumpkin Pete was the pinnacle of huntsman physique. Shredded abs, bulky pecs, and rippling arm muscles. Ruby and Cardin nearly drooled at the sight.

Jaune: (Sniffs) Hey... Ruby, did you wash your hood?

Ruby: Huh? Oh, uh, not yet.

Jaune: Maybe you should let Cardin take your hood and-

As Cardin took the hoodie from Jaune's hands, a red hood was tossed in his face, along with some other black fabric he didn't notice because he was blinded by the red.

Jaune: JUST YOUR HOOD, RUBY! DON'T TAKE OFF YOUR SHIRT IN THE LOBBY!

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #cardin winchester #lancaster

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her-satanic-wiles · 6 months

Text

October 30th

Body Worship, Papa Emeritus II x Catholic!Reader

Masterlist

Words: 4.1k.

Warnings: Body Worship (okay, turned out less body worship and more just worship in general but fuck it, I wanted to write it this way lmao); fingering; vaginal fingering; cunnilingus; marking; piv; vaginal sex; unprotected sex; praise kink; y’all this is soft soft, and I love it; religious symbolism; corruption kink; hair pulling; multiple orgasms;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog @saturnhas82moons

Author's Note: This is a continuation of October 3rd, so if you haven’t read that, please go and do so before you read this! Thanks!

Recommended listening: Chase Atlantic with their self-titled 2017 album.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Under the cloak of night, he crept through the ancient cobblestone streets of Rome, heart pounding in his chest like a drumbeat of impending doom. The Vatican’s towering walls loomed before him, a fortress of faith and secrets. Driven by a love forbidden by both church and society, he had come to breach the sanctum’s impenetrable defenses.

His leather-soled shoes barely made a sound as he approached the towering stone wall that guarded the Vatican’s secrets. In the moon’s pale glow, he could make out the shadows of security guards patrolling the perimeter. He crouched low, his heart racing with each passing second, and carefully assessed their movements.

Timing was everything. With the precision of a cat, he found his moment when two guards turned their backs, engaged in hushed conversation. In one swift, heart-pounding motion, he scaled the wall, fingers gripping the rough stone edges, and muscles straining with urgency. His breath held, he cleared the top, dropping silently to the other side, where the hallowed ground of Vatican City stretched out before him. It was almost as if he could feel the soles of his feet burning as it touched the hallowed ground, and forced him to move forward quickly.

Silent as a whisper, he navigated the maze of corridors of the Vatican’s residential quarters. The opulence and history that surrounded him seemed at odds with the clandestine nature of his mission. Portraits of pontiffs from centuries past stared down at him from gilded frames, their judgmental eyes seemingly aware of his transgressions.

He moved with caution, avoiding the gaze of any servants or clergy members who might cross his path, clutching onto his Grucifix pendant in his thick hand in an attempt to shield his true identity. His knowledge of the Vatican’s layout was limited, but the urgency of his desire propelled him forward.

Finally, he found himself outside a front door, familiar to him only by the number he’d been given. He knew this was where you resided, his forbidden lover, a cardinal of the church with all the responsibilities but none of the titles or accolades. With trembling hands, he reached for the doorknob, his heart pounding louder than the sacred hymns echoing through the Vatican’s hallowed halls.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, casting dancing shadows on the richly adorned tapestries that lined the walls. He had finally found your apartments, and with a mixture of apprehension and longing, he pushed the door open, revealing the inner sanctum of the Pope’s daughter.

Inside, you sat at a writing desk, the dim light revealing the weariness etched into your features. Your modest dress hung off your frame just as pristine as you liked it. You looked up from your work, your eyes widening in shock and disbelief as they met his.

Time seemed to stand still as your gazes locked. Words failed you both, as the weight of your forbidden rendezvous hung heavy in the air. You stood from your seat slowly eyes fixed on the now cocky Secondo whose arms were outstretched as though he wanted you to run to him and welcome him into your home. Run to him you did, but no words of welcome were exchanged.

Your palms reached his shoulders and with a force, you pushed him, anger now taking hold of your body. “What are you doing here!?” You hissed, clearly livid by his intrusion. This was not how he wanted things to go. “My father will be here any minute! What do you think he’d do if he found a Cardinal of the Satanic Church in his daughter’s room?”

Secondo grinned, his black upper lip stretching into a lacivious smile. “Hopefully he’d understand my intensions and close the door behind him.”

Your hand connected with his cheek, a red mark forming instantly. Just as you were about to lay into him, you heard a familiar voice sounding from the entryway. “___?” Your father had arrived.

Secondo’s eyes widened, now understanding the gravity of the situation. Though the Catholic church was supposed to be a pinnacle of moral upstanding, it wasn’t uncommon for Popes to take drastic measures to protect their Papacy, even if it meant defying their God’s wishes. Thou shalt not murder - unless of course they pose a threat to your power and need to be eradicated. Secondo knew that given he was a footsoldier of the Devil, a Satanic rat sent to plague the people with “immorality”, your father would have no problem crucifying him on the steps of St. Peter’s Basilica.

“Hide!” You shout-whispered, your panic even greater than Secondo’s.

Secondo wasted no more time, diving into your bedroom and throwing himself under your bed, thankful that you didn’t use it as storage. He did so at just the right time, because while he couldn’t see your father from his position, he could hear him and he was right where Secondo had stood just thirty seconds prior.

“What are you doing in here?” Your father asked, his tone certainly suspicious. “Why didn’t you come when I called?”

“Sorry, father, I was doing some work. Correspondances.”

Your father hummed in acknowledgement. “There’s a meeting tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. We’re gathering officials to discuss how we’re going to remove the vermin.”

Secondo didn’t need to visit the Vatican often to know that the vermin your father was referring to was the Satanic Church. He rolled his eyes and contorted his face to childishly mimic and mock your father - though he knew no one could see him, it was a knee-jerk reaction and he thought it was funny.

You hesitated before you spoke. “Yes, father.”

“Something you want to say?”

There were, in fact, several things you wanted to say to your father and none of them were kind. After spending as much time as you did with Secondo, you had grown to understand that they weren’t the monsters you used to fear and that the way your father and other members of your church talked about them was terrifying. You wanted to yell at your father for not treating you as you deserved, as well. How you were always promoted within the church, but could never retain the title as “women didn’t hold powerful positions”. But he had no problem using you to benefit his politics and Papacy. But all your thoughts would fall on deaf ears, and so you settled on a, “No, father.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow.”

As the Pope finally left the room, you sank back against the door you had closed behind him, your emotions in turmoil. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to collect yourself. That was the moment Secondo had been waiting for. He emerged from his hiding spot, his presence a comfort and a promise in the midst of your forbidden… whatever this was. The silence between you was palpable, broken only by the flickering candles and the distant echoes of Vatican life outside your apartment. He watched as you composed yourself, trying to calm yourself of the anger your father had left you with only to feel it flare up when you saw the Satanic Cardinal standing in your bedroom doorway.

“Why did you come here?” You quietly shouted at him, anger ever present in your voice. “You know what would happen to you if someone saw you - what would happen to me, too!”

You stood there, lecturing him about his behaviour, hands flailing about the room in your frustration and a small amount of hatred dancing in your eyes. As you unleashed your fury, your words cutting through the air like a storm, he couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the raw beauty of your anger. Your eyes blazed with intensity, your voice resonated with passion, and your fierce determination only made you more captivating. In that moment, your rage seemed to enhance your allure, and he found himself irresistibly drawn to you. Never had he seen a woman before so beautiful than you in that moment.

He thought back to when he first met you, how your anger and hatred towards him had fuelled his lust, and how it forced him to act against his better judgement to take your virginity on a desk that didn’t belong to him in the bowls of the Ministry.

Caught between the tumultuous emotions swirling around them, he took a step closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your presence. Your anger had laid bare the depth of your relationship, and he knew that your illicit connection was a flame that refused to be extinguished. As you continued to vent your frustrations, he reached out, gently taking your face into his hands and pressing his lips against yours, silencing you, a fervent promise that he would stand with you against all odds, consequences be damned.

You pushed against him at first, not because you didn’t want to kiss him, but because he had the nerve to silence you when you were talking. But the more you melted into his arms, the less resistance you put up, and allowed yourself to be caught by him as you began to fall from grace. Though your descent from righteousness started when you gave yourself to him, it was that kiss that solidified your feelings, and made you realise that however much you loved your God, you were sure you loved Secondo more.

Passions grew when he pressed you against your door, trapping you between him and the wood. His hands moved from your face, down your arms, and tickled at the bare skin until he finally settled at your hips. Your hands gripped at his cassock, holding on tightly and pulling him as close as he could possibly be to you, but even then that wasn’t close enough. His kisses ignited a fire in you that shouldn’t have been lit in the first place, and had you submitting and bending to his wishes willingly. When his fingers tightened on your hips and began lifting your dress, you let him. When his tongue begged for entrance to your mouth, you let it. When his hand found the gusset of your panties, you spread your legs to allow him easy access. When he dipped below the waistband, and stroked a tentative finger over your clit, you moaned into his mouth to encourage him to do it again.

In this moment, he wasn’t a servant of Satan. He was yours. Your ardent and eager slave, a genie sent to grant all of your wishes even if you didn’t know that he had them. His lips travelled South from yours, roaming over vast expanses of your body in search of a single destination. He moved to your jaw, your neck, your clothed dress, your stomach, hips, thighs. He dropped to his knees in front of you, his glove-covered fingers pulling your panties down with him as he knelt before you. You watched him hesitate for a moment, before wide eyes stared up at you as if to plead with you to grant him permission. His eyes were mismatched and popped against his Cardinal paints, a gentle yet emblazoned fire in his eyes as he waited for you. You couldn’t say no; you simply didn’t want to. You needed him probably more than he needed you. You nodded.

He gently lifted your leg in his hands and kissed it from ankle to knee. The higher up his lips went, the more passionately he kissed, and once more he played using his tongue. But now, in addition to kissing, he started sucking, leaving a trail of numerous dark brown hickeys on your thigh. No one would be able to see them here, but every time you caught a glimpse of your naked body, you would be reminded of them. Of him. Of what he did to you and the shame that was supposed to come with it. Shame that you refused to feel because that would imply you regretted letting him have his way with you. But even when you were worshipping your Lord, when you were in the confessional booth, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret your actions.

He immediately dove in and started licking and sucking at your clit. He forgot to take it easy and instead allowed himself to just take from you what he wanted because he was so desperate and needy for your taste. He was encouraged to continue his movements by the faint and low whimpers that escaped from your partially opened mouth.

“Yes! Just like that!” Due to the strong suction he applied, you whispered, ending your sentence with a particularly breathy moan.

One of your hands flew to his head, gripping onto his hat and throwing it to the side allowing you to rest your hand there, pushing his face into your heat. Your hips bucked in pleasure, riding his tongue and taking what you needed from him. “Secondo!” The hand that wasn’t resting on his head flew up to your mouth, covering your exceptionally desperate moans as you came on his tongue, silencing yourself as much as you could so the Clergy wouldn’t hear your pleasure from the other side of the door.

When your orgasm had completely subsided, Secondo released you from his suctioned hold, his chin glistening with your juices and a small grin on his face. That grin altered your brain chemistry and instilled a confidence in you that you didn’t know you had. You pulled him by his cassock back to his feet and crashed your lips against his, kissing him much harder than before. You could taste yourself in his mouth, your own essence moving onto your tastebuds and heightening your arousal. Your hand gripped onto his and pulled off the first glove, still with your lips attached to his, and once it was off his hand, you threw it somewhere in the room. The second glove met the same fate.

You pushed him away from you and pulled at your zipper, undoing the dress and letting it pool around your feet. Your bra was the next to go, falling to the floor and exposing your breasts to him. You stood completely bare in front of him, looking at his face as his eyes ran over your body, drinking in every part of you he could see and committing it to memory. You then took his hand and walked him to the bedroom.

Before today, all your secret meetings had taken place after or during official meetings between your churches, sneaking off while representatives met to discuss peace or something redundant that both sides would ignore. Your meetings had been limited, but over the course of that week had been frequent. Yet for each of your encounters together, Secondo had taken charge. Despite how much he degraded you, how disrespectful his words were, you had grown to trust him entirely. He would never push you passed your limits, or do something to deliberately hurt you that you hadn’t already asked for or expressed your wish to try. Though he always used his experience to heighten yours, you were very much the pace-setter.

This was never more evident by his willingness for you to push him down onto the bed once his cassock and underwear was on your bedroom floor. How he happily lay on his back and watched you crawl up his body, tongue laving over his hairy stomach and chest and driving you further upwards. In your hubris, as your mouths connected in a passionate kiss, you took his length into your hands and lined him up with your sopping entrance, preparing both of you for the stretch you were about to experience. You felt Secondo’s hands move to your hips, supporting you as you sunk down onto him, taking him inside you in one fell swoop. This motion had you both breaking the kiss, mouths falling open in a perfect ‘o’ and your eyebrows raising while his furrowed, darkening his eyes.

You sat up, taking him even further down, and when you bounced for the first time, you ripped a growl from his throat. His back arched, his fingers tightened their grip on your hips. “Fuck!” He gasped when you did it again.

Your inexperience made it difficult for you to find a rhythm, your hands falling to his stomach to support you but failing to give you both the pleasure you needed. Secondo changed your motions for you, instead of helping you bounce, he used his hands to move you back and forth. “No, grind on me, little lamb.” He told you. You found a rhythm pretty quickly. “Just like that. Good girl.”

This position had your clit rubbing against his pubic mound and his cock moving inside you perfectly. The slight upwards curvature of him meant that each time you moved back, he hit that sweet spot inside you and caused you to cry out.

The more you moved, the more confident you became in your ability and allowed you to relax and just feel him - feeling the way he felt inside you, hitting your walls with each movement, his hands gripping onto you tight enough to leave more marks for you to admire later. While your eyes were closed in pleasure, his were wide open, drinking in every inch of your body and admiring you from below. He got to see you in your full glory, breasts bouncing with each thrust, thighs jiggling, mouth agape in ecstasy. The placement of your bed in the room in contrast with the overhead light created an ethereal glow, almost giving you a perfect halo around your head.

An angel.

You were an angel - you were his angel. The once good, Catholic girl who he loathed to look at, who made his life Hell in all the wrong ways. The righteous child who preached to those who didn’t want it, who was so sure in her decisions being the right one, now warmly accepting her mortal enemy into her body without much of a second thought. Now giving into temptation and pleasuring herself, against the will of her Lord, with the very man her book warned her about. The daughter of God using the son of Lucifer to commit sin after sin within the walls of the most hallowed building. It was almost as if he could feel your soul tainting with each thrust of your hips, your purity disintegrating along with his willpower each time a moan fell from your lips.

“Please,” you whimpered, “talk to me. Like you normally would.”

Degrade you? Now? He couldn’t possibly. He couldn’t find it within himself to tear you apart when you looked as you did: red-faced, sweating, panting and gasping for air as you felt him all the way up in your stomach. “I can’t.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Why?” He didn’t answer at first, hoping you’d drop this crusade. But you were determined to get what you wanted and so, you stopped moving. “Why?”

“Little lamb, move.”

“Why?”

He lifted your hips a little more and tried to thrust into you, but you fought against him. “For fuck sake!” He sat up, his nose mere centimetres from yours, his eyes burning with anger and lust, pupils blown so far out the colour had disappeared entirely. His hand moved to the back of your head and pulled at the roots of your hair, lips brushing against your neck as he spoke, “Because you are divine. Move, please.” When he lay back down you picked the pace back up exactly how you did before you stopped, working towards your orgasm. His eyes remained on you the whole time. “You want me to tell you how sinful you are, hm? How much of a bad girl you are for defying your Lord?”

“Yes!”

“I won’t. I won’t use the same words that they do. Fucking shit! I can’t use those words when Lilith herself blessed you with ethereal beauty. When she placed her most beautiful creation on this Earth to walk amongst the mortals; art amongst the rats. I will not degrade one who was made to conquer men.”

You were breathless, both from the exertion and his words. “I c-conquered you?”

“Body, mind, soul,” he gripped hold of your hand and pulled it to his rest on chest, “and heart.” Your eyes met his in surprise, and your body shook as though electricity was running through it. “Conquered and enslaved. I will forever be yours, and worship you like the goddess you are.”

His large hand that had completely covered yours moved up your arm and began to rub both of his around your body, gripping onto pieces and stroking gently.

“Secondo!”

By the way your walls were fluttering around him, he knew you were almost at your peak. “Cum for me, little lamb. Bless me with your holy water.”

This orgasm was much more intense than your first, your body shaking and your eyes glazing over. Your back arched as it washed over you, your fingers digging into his arms and leaving half-moon prints in his skin. “Fuck!” You screamed softly, like your body had just been plunged into cold water.

“That’s it. That’s right. Give it to me.”

“Secondo! Oh my God!”

He pushed you off his cock and put you on the bed beside him, turning you to lie flat on your stomach. Your hips were lifted just enough for a pillow to sit below you, then you felt him mount you from behind, draping his entire body over you. His lips found their way to your ear as his cock lined up with your hole once more. “Your God doesn’t deserve you.” He told you as he entered you again, pressing you against the mattress. His hand found yours and interlocked his fingers with yours as he began to thrust into you, moving at a similar pace to when he usually fucked you. Hard, fast, dirty. But this time there was something new, something tender in the way he touched you, the way his other hand rested atop your hip.

“I will forever get on my knees for you,” he told you between grunts, “and worship between these hallowed walls.” He kissed your shoulder blades. “I will thank you for all that you give me. I am yours.”

“I’m yours, Secondo.” You turned your head to capture his lips and give him a deep kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth as his cock continued to slide in and out of your tight, wet heat.

He surrounded you, every inch of his body running against yours and trapping you between him and the mattress in a way you’d never felt before - making you feel safe. His words told you that you were loved, despite the violent speed they ran through your head as he occupied every inch of your mind. His scent, woody and musky, filled your nose. His grunts and growls swallowed by your mouth in your unbroken, needy kiss. He loved you. He’d risen to catch you as you’d fallen for him. In that moment, nothing else mattered. God and Satan be damned. They’d ruled your lives too much, you both deserved this.

“Cum for me.” You whispered into his lips. “Give it to me, give me everything.”

“Where can I cum?”

“Inside me. I wanna feel you inside me.”

“Fucking hell!”

His hips snapped faster and more erratically until eventually he pushed himself as far as he could inside you, painting your walls with his cum. His eyes were tightly shut and a growl escaped him. He could feel his heart in his throat. His fingers tightened around yours when he came, gripping onto you and never wanting to let go.

As he came down from his high, he peppered your skin with kisses, black Cardinal paints very much wiped away at this point and his body exhausted from the exertion. He stayed inside you, softening with each passing second but not wanting to leave the warmth of your body just yet. You didn’t want him to, either. But it had to happen eventually. He rolled off you, but kept his hand on your hip as he did and rolled you with him, wrapping you up in his capable arms and holding you close.

The later into the night it got, he knew he’d have to leave the Vatican and wait to see you for who knew how long, and that thought hurt him more than he could possibly. He did everything he could to commit you to memory; how you looked, felt, smelled. He needed something to see him through until the next time you managed to see him. And so, he held you close, doing his best to fight off sleep.

That was until your voice broke the silence. “How would the Ministry feel if I left with you tonight?”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

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drbtinglecannon · 1 year

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This week on "Dadrius can still win" I bring you:

Dana's newest art of the Hexsquad & Hagsquad, focusing specifically on Hunter.

1. That outfit is FAR too fashionable to be clothes Hunter picked himself, or any other adult in his life would've for that matter (no offense to Camila, offense to Eda tho). From the nice dress shoes, to the fitted yet baggy jeans, the sleek jacket, sunglasses, and slicked back hair, this entire look screams "Darius picked it out for me :)"

2. Patches on the jeans & jacket, both a reflection of Hunter's current obsession with mending clothes but also that sewing is a part of his relationship with Darius, being the one who initially taught him & that Hunter observed enough of his handiwork to notably recall details of how it looked vs the sewing machine.

4. Hunter's demeanor. Hunter's a dork, that's what we love about him. Yes he's a competent fighter & has decent parkour moves & has confidence in his abilities, but he's not exactly suave or cool. That air he's got feels so much like Darius', with it being even funnier that Darius is also putting on fronts a bit with it.

3. The patches themselves!!! We got a King face, one polkadot patch & two striped patches (patterns are another fashion thing, aka something Darius cares about), a flower (that looks similar to the ones Willow has all over her jeans), the "Quitter Badge" that Eda made for her Bad Girl Coven that she offered to Luz back in "The First Day" (it took me FOREVER to read it before I realized it was a show reference. Also there's a second connection to the Clawthorne fam on his jacket), a Cardinal wing in the center of his back (rip Flapjack my beloved), and last but not least an abomination coven logo. Hmmm, that's a bit random isn't it! He's never shown a particular interest in abomination magic -- unlike how he has for wild magic -- but also the Coven system was a product of Belos, someone Hunter has finally cut off from his life. So. The abomination logo can only be a reference to Darius, otherwise Hunter has literally no ties to it so it'd make no sense being one of the patches on his jacket. And the fact he has that patch that can ONLY be for Darius feels like an extremely blatant reference to their relationship.

Edit: 3.A. The abomination patch is actually not the exact coven logo, it has a ponytail added to it, which is Darius' signature style. Further points to Dadrius with the abomination patch

Anyway here's teen Darius to match because omg he's so fucking cute & a GOOBER. DARIUS HAS BEEN A LIFELONG GOOBER.

Perry really cuts into the way Darius' cloak elegantly swishes behind him. But he can't be bothered to care when he has to Strike A Pose ✨ And All rn. His giant smirk with his hand cupping his chin is the best detail

#toh #toh spoilers #i guess since it came from a recent stream #dana terrace #toh hunter #hunter toh #hunter deamonne #darius deamonne #im losing my mind over these pics. TEEN DARIUS! LOOK AT HIM & HIS FACE! LIFELONG GOOBER! I WANNA GIVE HIM A HIGHFIVE & BUY HIM ICE CREAM #i wanna buy all of the teen!hagsquad ice cream. like alador needs calories & stat kid is gonna pass out. & maybe lilith will stop scowling #but im just so excited over teen darius art & he still wears a cloak to swish behind him all gracefully. first time we see him w/o heels #anyway back to hunter he looks so mature here that it has to be darius' fashion. also abomination patch! my heart!#dadrius #tc posts

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gravehags · 8 months

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can't find you in the dark

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Mature

Tags: brief Dracopia, both cardinal copia AND reader being awkward little fucking nerds, horror movie discussion, sexy dreams

Words: 1,758

Summary: You've been working at the abbey for three months and there's just something special about the Cardinal. Your subconscious agrees.

a/n: Silly little fic that lets me air out some Dracopia energy while also getting Copia to talk about horror movies. It's my hc that he was practically raised by old horror films from the 50s and 60s on late night tv and he has a special fondness for them. I mean, who else did he learn how to groom his mustache from if not the man, the myth, the legend Vincent Price?

~~~

There was little you loved more than chilly October nights, and your time at the abbey only solidified this. Every night before bed you would open the two leaded glass windows in your room, their diamond panes glittering in the low light from your bedside lamp. You slept best like this, surrounded by cool, fresh air bundled contentedly under your plush duvet.

You’re restless tonight however. Something is amiss.

When you turn over from your side to your back, you see why.

Sitting in partial darkness in the cozy chair of your reading nook is a figure cloaked in shadows. You should feel frightened - should scream for help in the presence of the intruder but something within you tells you one thing.

You know this man.

He leans forward and when you finally glimpse his face, a wave of relief washes over you.

“Cardinal,” you breathe, hand over your heart. “What…what are you doing in here?”

“I had to see you, cara,” he whispers hoarsely, standing as you blush at the nickname. His garb is different from the usual red or black cassock you’ve seen him in - a simple stylized suit - and there is no excess fabric to mask anything. Particularly what is happening at the juncture of his thighs.

You know you’re ogling him as he advances upon your bed but the tight black suit and unusual short bat-like cloak he wears around his shoulders is intriguing, to say the least.

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

You’re fully sat up against the pillows now, hands in your lap when he sits down next to you on the bed.

“Sì,” he murmurs, “dolcezza will you permit me?”

Your heart flutters once more at the endearment he’s never bestowed upon you before tonight. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into but you give your breathless answer anyway.

“Anything.”

You gasp as he turns to fully face you, and you jump when he places a gloved hand on your belly. His body slides closer even as his hand slides further upwards, pushing you flat against the bed until he is cupping your breast through the thin fabric of your nightgown. You’ve forgotten how to breathe as he caresses you, teasing your nipple into hardness. He moves his face close to yours - so close - and you’re enveloped in the scent of his cologne.

“I need you,” he breathes into your neck. “Please let me. Per favore, permettimi di averti.”

Bringing your hand up to the side of his face, you cup his cheek, thumb running along his neatly trimmed sideburn. He looks desperate, hungry even and so you nod, still unsure of his intentions. Copia lets out a shuddering breath before leaning back down into your neck, lips touching your pulse point. With his hand still resting on your breast, he licks at the skin there, causing you to sigh, before sinking his teeth into the supple skin. You start and begin to panic, but he’s holding you so tenderly, fingers toying with your nipple as he begins to hungrily suck. The pain is gone soon enough and is replaced by the most heady feeling of pleasure. His moans echo in your ears and your hips buck upwards, desperate for friction, all the while he drinks from you. And drinks. Each graze of his sharp teeth and swipe of his tongue against your skin makes you gasp and writhe, cunt throbbing. He doesn’t slow his actions, but you’re content to lay there in his grasp as he drains you of life. Your eyes slip into blackness for a moment before–

Before the blaring of your phone alarm.

God fucking dammit.

You haul yourself out of bed and move through your morning routine as if puppeteered by some higher force - putting no real thought into your actions as you get ready for the day. You’re so consumed by your dream still that you bump into someone in the hallway.

Someone very familiar.

“Signorina! Ah, mi dispiace, I did not see you there.”

His voice finally seems to be the thing that snaps you out of your reverie, and you shake your head.

“Oh, no Cardinal, it's my fault. Head too full, you know?”

He nods and gestures with his head to the towering stack of books balanced in his arms, obscuring his face with only his black biretta peeking out.

“Eh, shall we continue our research from yesterday on that sculpture? In my office?”

Your heart skips a beat at the suggestion of being alone with him and if your response is a tad too eager, he doesn’t notice. Now walking by his side down the hall, you reach for a few of the books from his stack to lighten his load. When you see his face for the first time since your dream last night - handsome and freckled - your face heats up and you quickly look away before he can register the deep flush. You’ve only known him for three months of your life but you’ve come to learn that there is something so very special about him. Maybe someday you’ll tell him he’s the only person who has made the abbey feel like home.

The books are heavy and old, and you’re thankful when the two of you finally reach Copia’s door. Usually he would come to your office adjacent to the library for this kind of research, but you were thankful for his invitation today. As Copia finagles the door handle and swings it open, you’re reminded of why you love this room so much. You’d only been in it a handful of times, brief moments at that, but there is something incredibly charming about it. Bookcases line every bare inch of wall, stuffed to the brim with tomes on everything from Satanic scripture to Catholic iconography. You greatly appreciate the diversity of his collection and for a while now have been working up the courage to ask to borrow some texts. At the center of the room sits his desk - a commanding mahogany thing - with one high-backed chair behind it and one in front. Light filters in from the leaded glass windows alongside one corner of the room, bouncing shadows upwards onto the intricate coffered ceilings. The room suits him incredibly well, and immediately sets you at ease with its warmth.

“Are you going to stand in the doorway all day, signorina?” he teases lightly, setting his stack down on top of his paper-strewn desk before removing his biretta. You loved that silly little hat.

“Yeah, yeah sorry I, uh, didn’t sleep well last night.”

Setting his biretta down on his desk he shuffles over to you, brows knit in concern.

“Are you unwell?” he asks, hesitantly reaching his gloved hands out to you. By the time you’ve worked up the courage to take them in yours, he’s pulling away and you’re kicking yourself.

“No, no. Just…had a weird dream.” You fall silent for a moment as you walk over and take the chair opposite him. “You were in it.”

You’re blurting it out before you can control yourself and immediately swearing loudly and profusely in your head.

He sits down behind his desk and you notice that the tips of his ears are red.

Huh. Cute.

“Yeah uh,” you clear your throat, tapping your fingers against your thigh, “you were a vampire.”

It sounds so stupid right now as it exits your mouth but his head cocks to the side in interest.

“Oh? Un vampiro…was I very dashing?”

The tension you’re feeling is broken by the goofy roguish grin he wears and the way he runs his hand over his silver threaded brown hair.

“Very. You had a cape and everything.”

His grin becomes wider. “You know as a child, I watched many old horror movies. I wanted to be Dracula but ah…was never quite smooth enough, hmm?”

“Hmm instead you’ve turned into Vincent Price, which one can argue is far more attractive. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Bela Lugosi but there’s just something about Vincent.”

What the actual fuck is wrong with you today and the way you’re running your mouth? You’re about to blurt out an apology, an explanation, anything when he smooths his leather clad fingers over his mustache, cheeks aflame.

“Eh, you…you think so?”

Double or nothing. “Absolutely.”

“Bella signorina,” he murmurs, avoiding your gaze. “You are far too kind to this old cardinal.”

You think back to your dream, the way his hand cradled your breast as he lapped at your neck. The way your cunt positively ached even after you woke up. You swallow thickly.

“Have you ever, uh. Have you ever seen Nosferatu?”

“Which one?” he replies without skipping a beat. “Murnau or Herzog?”

Now that gives you butterflies in your stomach and makes the edges of your lips curl.

“Both, but for these purposes Herzog. That movie has such a dreamlike quality to it. Kinski portrays him with such sadness. Anyway, that’s the kind of vampire you were like in my dream.”

You pull a large book from the stack on the desk and begin busying yourself with note taking while he processes what you just said.

“Herzog’s Nosferatu is eh…far more erotic. Wouldn’t you agree?”

All the color drains from your face and your hand stills mid-page turn. When you finally work up the courage to respond, your voice is hoarse.

“Y-yes. Uh yeah most definitely.”

“Particularly the way he feeds on Lucy, sì? Caressing her, intimately exploring her.”

His head is cocked and he’s not looking at you, clearly lost in his own thoughts about the film. That’s the only reason you know he’s not tormenting you on purpose with this line of questioning and observation. His hand is under his chin, elbow propped on the desk. The morning light casts shadows on his dramatic profile, illuminating the freckles dusted over his cheekbones and you have to pinch yourself from sighing at the sight.

“Ah, anyway!” he announces suddenly, slapping the leather clad palms of his hands on the surface of his desk. “We have much work to do, signorina. Perhaps if you’ll join me for lunch, we could eh. Continue our conversation? About horror movies, that is.” Now he’s the one blushing, hands fidgeting with the corners of his biretta as he casts you a shy glance.

Wow, you think to yourself, he sure is something.

“Definitely,” you say with an encouraging smile. “It’s a date.”

Your wording makes him choke inelegantly on his own spit as you smile beatifically at him.

Lovely.

#cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #cardinal copia #copia #dracopia #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

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ghuleh-recs · 2 months

Text

Cardinal Copia had his own Fic Rec Friday and now it’s Popia’s turn. I've compiled a healthy mix of x reader and x ghoul below. A little something for everyone! I may have gotten a little carried away— there's a lot to see here so make good use of your ao3 bookmarks!

Take my hand. Let’s read about the HBIC together. ♡

recs under the cut.

Papa x Reader

Don't Go - @ramblingoak - papa iv x gn!reader

While trying to convince Papa to cancel the tour you end up confessing how you feel about him.

Rough Day - @writingjourney - papa iv x f!reader

papa takes care of you after a rough day.

Your Star Wrapped in My Cloak - @sherwood-forests - papa iv x f!reader

You find Copia in the library, in hopes of apologizing.

VIII Strength - @anamelessfool - gn!reader

VIII STRENGTH Strength (Physical and Will), courage, persuasion, influence, compassion Copia is a pent up sort of man, he always has been. He enjoys being Papa but on his worst days the title has a near physical weight pressed across his shoulders. He comes home to you, and you can tell when it's been one of those days. Luckily, he has you to guide him.

Forbidden Fruit - @ink-and-dagger - papa iv x f!reader

It's a pleasant surprise to stumble upon the newly ordained Papa Emeritus IV browsing through the library stacks. Even more pleasant that he happens to be halfway up a rolling ladder, and wearing one of his sinfully tight suits. What better opportunity to give Copia's cakes the attention they deserve. Or No snakes needed to convince you to take a bite out of this apple.

Forever Yours - @sweatandwoe - papa iv x gn!reader

Ever since you had entered into a relationship with him, you had learned three strict rules about Copia. One, he did not like to be tickled in any situation. Two, he always had to have a drink after sex. Three, the make-up stayed on. The first two were easy to follow but the third though, was getting harder to try not to bend.

Worship - @copiasjuicebox - papa iv x transmasc!reader

Tumblr Request: trans!copia worshipping your body after your t shots have had time to work. he understands how to worship your body properly bc he’s been through the transition, he gets it.

on leather wings - @ghostchems - papa iv x f!reader

copia surprises you with a spooky weekend getaway, culminating in some winged bedroom time

Papa IV x Ghouls

tumblr ficlet - @st-danger - papa iv x dewdrop

"Papa," Dew murmurs, and Copia feels a tremor move through him; there's a particular voice Dewdrop uses when he wants something. Silky and dark and slow. A drawl. It's what he's using now, and he hasn't the ability to deny him anything. And if Dewdrop is about to angle for a little action, backstage and hurried with Copia in his papal robes- well. It'd be sinful, of course. And it would be wrong to not take advantage of that, right?

What's My Name? - @copiasjuicebox - papa iv x swiss

"Why don't you ask me how I'm doing?" in which, the audience doesn't refer to Papa as "Papa" and it strikes a chord.

And You Know That It Takes Two - @forlorn-crows - papa iv x dewdrop

“Well, I do. Of course I do,” he assures the ghoul. “Quite fond of you all, actually. It was, admittedly, a little rocky when we first met. But.” There’s that heh Dew was expecting just moments before. “Here we are, no?” When Copia starts rubbing his thumb up and down the inside of his knee, Dew’s brain stops working. His gaze zeros in to the fingers splayed across the side of his thigh, so foreign, so bare, so pink against the black of his casual uniform pants. His mind is full of static and all he can hear is his own blood pumping through his head. But there’s a weird something tugging in his ribcage; something new yet old, unnamed but familiar.

tumblr ficlet - @littlemoon-beam - papa iv x dewdrop

He can't look away from his hands, the way the veins flex under his skin as he expertly plays. Copia hears his own shuddering breath, wishing he could feel them on his skin even if only for a moment. He'd worship every fingertip if given half the chance. What really gets him though, what makes his chest tight and his stomach twist, is when he finishes and smiles, head tilted and eyes bright. "Was that ok, Papa?"

Changing of the Seasons - @kissingghouls - papa iv x cirrus

Cirrus and Copia share an umbrella on a rainy day.

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

Did I forget your favorite? You've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡

#my fic recs #fic rec friday #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost #papa emeritus iv #copia #swiss ghoul #cirrus ghoulette #dewdrop ghoul #queued post

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themotherofblood · 1 year

Note

I would love to request a smutty Daemyra x reader piece where reader is being an irritating brat and they have to settle her down (if you’re comfortable with that!! Pretty please and thank you!)

omg yes!! I can write this one, but just for more context perhaps both daemon and rhaenyra are doing there political work and running dragonstone and reader is just being an attention whore? I hope this satisfies your request

Masterlist

Daemon Targaryen x Reader x Rhaenyra Targaryen

smut, spanking,. Humiliation soft dom! Rhaenyra, mean dom! Daemon. dubcon-ish, clit play. Oral (f) humping pillow

Two week,

Two weeks and four days!

You had woken up alone and gone to bed alone for two weeks, you were a noble lady; you understood the responsibilities that burdened Daemon and Rhaenyra. The spent hours holed up in their study or by the painted table.

You understood and you waited.

What you did not understand is how little attention they were paying to you, first, it was the small things, not being available to breakfast together or take you along dragon-riding while their kids practice. Then it was crawling into bed hours later than they had promised.

You didn’t care.

Then came the interruptions, head buried in Rhaenyra's thighs and Daemon deep within you and yet his squires thought it wise to take Daemon away from you.

You had devised ways, refraining from wearing small clothes as you subjectively rubbed your arse against Daemon’s cock, pawing at Rhaenyra’s breast any shrivel of time she found to embrace you or being bare as you awaited them in bed, only to succumb to sleep alone

Still nothing.

At first, you were understanding, being a good girl and waiting, and waiting.

Then your lusts clawed at your insides, again you tried to be good, they would come to you- you’d thought.

No more!

You were extremely frustrated and touch-starved. A hungry animal lashing out.

You laid your plans out, even if it was to irk them. You would do anything to make them touch you.

Just as you woke up alone this morning, you stopped your handmaidens from dressing you into a proper lady, fuck the silks, fuck the corsets.

You had found your way in your spouse's shared study, humming a song under your breath as the knights stationed by the door let you through.

Daemon was sat at the head of the table as Rhaenyra placed next to him, discussing strategies no doubt. Your husband noticed you first, his eyes having to double take your figure stood by the door in just your white sleep shift and shawl that did nothing to cover you up. Rhaenyra caught your eyes second, she too frowned at your exposed state.

That sleep shift did nothing to cover your body, merely a sham of a garment as the lining of your breasts and perked nipples from the cold were much visible to any suspecting onlooker.

You said nothing, just gave them a loving smile and walked to the library, climbing onto the ladder to grab a book, the outline of your arse much prominently teasing both Targaryens.

The gold cloaks and vassal lords that surrounded the table knew better than to look at you, if it wasn’t Daemon that would carve out their eyes it would be Rhaenyra who fed them to the dragons.

You were kittenish, coy as you padded your way over to where the were sat. Leaning down to press a kiss onto Daemon’s cheek while giving him a good glance at your breasts before leaning up to do the same to Rhaenyra.

You nearly giggled at Daemon’s jaw ticking as you walked out.

Now for the cardinal crime.

Did you know you were not to touch yourself?

Yes.

Did your care?

No.

You’d stripped yourself bare in your shared chambers, walking around leisurely, trying on one of many different necklaces Rhaenyra had, pulling on your pretty mesh stockings before laying your eyes on your victim.

Your imaginations didn’t take much, the thought of Rhaenyra and Daemon punishing you had you pooling in between your folds in no time. You rubbed that little throbbing bud in between your legs, positioning yourself above a pillow as you moved your hips against the soft fabric.

Rhaenyra and Daemon remained at task, sticking to major topic without any diversions. They were out of the meeting within minutes, both of them annoyed at your little act.

Their prim and proper lady wife had now found amusement in whoring. Both of them knew exactly where they would find her, just as the neared their quarters the could already here the loud moans and whimpers coming from their bed chambers. The few guards stationed by knew better than to turn a blind ear to their lady’s moans.

Rhaenyra burst through the chamber door, Daemon a quick step behind her. Both of their eyes fell on your bare body grinding against the pillow on their bed.

Just from the flush on your face and the shaking in your thighs they could tell you had peaked…without them.

“What do you think you are doing?” Rhaenyra questioned as she took off her earrings, Daemon swiftly unbuckled his sheath and disarmed himself of his dagger.

“Nothing.” You chimed, still rubbing your sopping cunt on the pillow.

“Enjoy that did you? Parading yourself like a little whore to the court?” Daemon breathed out, leaning against the post of the bed.

You smirked, nodding as another whimper tore through your mouth.

“Why are you being this way, you are our sweet girl aren't you?” Rhaenyra cooed as she untangled the ribbons holding her dress together.

Daemon scoffed “She is just a little slut, go on then, come for us.” He hardly tweaked your nipple in between his fingers.

You gasped at the hurt coursing through your bosom, a small sinister part of your reveled in it, you got what you wanted. You moved your hips harder, letting your swollen bud rub against the material.

“Look at her, she’s being such a good girl.” Rhaenyra pushed your hair back, as she admired you grinding body.

“Just a needy little slut, aren't you?” Daemon spat

The duality between the two had you hurtling towards your second orgasm in minutes. You cried out as your legs spasmed.

The second you peak wash over you, Daemon yanked you forward.

“I hope you fucking enjoyed that for you have hell to pay, zaldritos.”

Rhaenyra shuffled forward into bed, spreading her legs open as she looked at you adoringly.

“Come here sweet girl,” She motioned with her fingers

“You better make her come for your sake.”

You hesitated, a sheer act of a tantrum

“B-but I want Rhaenyra’s mouth.” You pouted, earning your a sharp smack on your rear, the rings on Daemon’s fingers making it sting that much harder.

You grinned despite the throbbing on your arse

Rhaenyra reached forward to hold your jaw.

“Why are you being this way, your always so well-behaved. Our pretty girl.”

“Our pretty whore, you mean. Showing her tits like that to the court.” Daemon was far angrier than you'd ever witnessed, perhaps you bit of more than you could chew.

“You better start eating that cunt, or I swear your arse will glow red when I’m done!” Daemon bellowed his warning.

“Yes, my lord.”

Another smack on your left cheek.

“Yes, your grace.”

You dove right into a lap at Rhaenyra’s folds, hungrily sampling her cunt. Relishing in the taste of her after so long, with it also followed consistent bare-handed spanks on your rear. You whimpered into Rhaenyra’s core. You wife kept petting your hair like you were her pet cat, moaning and cooing at you as your feasted on her. You spread her folds, laying kitten licks right onto her reddening bud.

“That’s it, my good girl.” She moaned arching her back of the bed.

“Such a naughty fucking whore,” Daemon rested from spanking your ass red as he spread them to find your cunt soaking wet. Rhaenyra held your head as she ground her pussy into your mouth, coating your chin and nose in her juices.

Daemon rammed his fingers into your cunt, with ease curling them down ward to hammer into your cunt.

“Wanted to be a whore just to come? Go on then, keep fucking coming.” Daemon’s finger’s were persistent. Though his movement were violent, all aimed to make you pay for breaking a rule. You couldn’t ignore his hand that rubbed at your throbbing rear.

Rhaenyra squealed, releasing all over your face, her chest heaving as her orgasm wash over her.

“Daemon,” She reasoned with her husband, hell bent in making their wife pay.

“She’s being good now. You’re going to be good now aren’t you?” She questioned, stroking your cheek.

You said nothing.

Another smack on your arse before Daemon flipped your over. Rhaenyra shuffled your body in between her legs, holding your body steady.

Daemon shuffled into bed, tugging at his cock. Clearly prepared to fuck you into oblivion.

He gave no warning as sharp thrust filled your cunt full of him. He set an unforgiving pace, making your eyes roll back, you cunt already sensitive from your past orgasms. Rhaenyra stroked at your face. Whispering sweet words as Daemon treated you like a common whore.

Such contrast had you hurtling towards yet another orgasm, shuffling away from Daemon as his efforts refused to fail. Both of them held you down as your cried from overstimulation.

“What? I thought you wanted to come? Is this not attention enough for your slutty cunt?” Daemon grunted.

“It’s okay sweet girl. Just one more, give him one more.” She cooed as she reached forward to toy with your swollen bed. You cried out, feeling her fingers roll and flick the nub between her finger.

“Please, please I am sorry.” You begged, highly overwhelmed the throb running through your cunt. “Your grace forgive me.” You cried.

She pressed harder onto your nub, making you scream as you gushed in your husbands cock, his thrust led you through your orgasms as he breathed out his spend within you.

Just as the all dwindled to a static calm, your small cries of apologies and mewls didn’t stop.

“Shh, you did so well,” Rhaenyra kissed your temple “Daemon tell her she was good.” She hissed at her husband.

“I’m sorry,” You whimpered at your husband, he caressed your cheek as he pulled out of your weeping pussy.

“Our pretty zaldrititos.”

#daemon targaryen x reader x rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x rhaenyra targaryen #daemyra smut #daemon targaryen smut #one shot #daemon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen smut

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puppetmaster13u · 5 months

Note

@f4nd0m-fun here (I hope they allow us to ask with secondary blogs soon)

Just how wild do you like your Batfam cryptids? I've got ideas for days.

One is a wing fic where all the bats essentially end up half demon. Thomas and Martha make a deal with Alfred to help fix the city and clean up the curses and everything, and. Alfred asks for 'the souls of your descendants' at the point, not caring much for humanity but hoping to get ahead of those pesky demons in his soul collection (so and so said he has Constantine's soul but that's only a piece! What about a bunch of souls that have been tainted by the spirit of a city that has never had reason to hope? Now those are some rare and dark souls).

The Waynes were hoping he'd take their souls instead but he refuses (maybe they're too full of hope or something) but, over time, he grows attached and ends up giving Bruce a shard of his power, allowing him to transform into a demonic winged form based on an animal for his protection after his parents die. When he's young the form is a snowy owl, but once he come back and became Batman his wings have changed. Each of the babies is the same way. As Robin, they gain their baby wings, but, once they move to a new name, their wings evolve.

'The Demon's Head' isn't just a fancy title, the Al'ghul's are demon descended, so Damien is at least a quarter demon even at the beginning, but Alfred's power can't be passed genetically like they thought, so he was born grounded. In this, he shows up sooner, Talkia asking Jason to take Damien with him to his father since she knows her father will kill him for being wingless.

Tim, poor baby. He couldn't fly as Robin because his wings were a shattered mimicry of Jason's Robin wings. He felt like he was in the shadow of the previous Robin, making the 'replacement' nickname sting even more, but, eventually, he grows into the wings of a cardinal and learns to fly.

I'm not sure if Alfred marks Barbara as his person, but if not, maybe he regrets not doing so, thinking that she might not have ended up paralyzed if he'd given her power. But also she's not really considered a 'Wayne descendant' life the kids Bruce adopted, so he'd have to directly make the deal with her. Maybe he does this with Stephanie when she comes along, still thinking about how Barbara might've been better off with a deal. Also, he keeps trying to hold off on gathering their souls because he's grown attached. I figure he'd probably end up wanting to turn them into proper demons too tho when they eventually die but, for now, until the city has been restored (if it ever will be), the Batfam is essentially immortal, and Alfred might be pulling some strings so no one realizes the Waynes are as well. As a side note, I debated Alfred x Lady Gotham for this story.

Then I had a dpxdc version of this where the wings were still demonic in origin but basically Scarecrow and Bruce are many many family lines removed cousins from an ancestor who was siblings with Jack Nightingale. On top of that, Danny had wings but they got charred when he was electrocuted. This one also has Clock x Pariah and they have wings due to something to do with ghosts, Danny gets a cloak made out of their feathers while his ghost side slowly grows its own wings (but he'll never have wings as a living again).

-----

Sorry for the long send, I got a bit carried away, but if you want I can dig up my AU again and share what I have for the wings at least, not sure what else I've got written down.

#colony of bats AU

Honestly I love both of these ideas, but what if they were say, combined.

Alfred gifts Bruce a shard of his power- everyone knows the Waynes have wings, even if in most cases too small to fly. But the wings are feathered, usually bright and flashy for the men who inherit the trait.

Which means they're very identifiable. But like you said, Alfred gets (ugh) attached to this little mortal. He's practically raised him and honestly thinks it's adorable watching him manipulate the other richfolk at galas into thinking he's such a "polite young man." Bruce is practically his baby!

So he gifts him a bit of his blood (which we know via Constantine can extend ones lifespan including giving them a bit of healing) and an itty bitty piece of his own power. Just enough for Bruce to be able to willingly call upon it. Just enough for him to disappear into shadows. Just enough for his eyes to gain a hint of an unholy glow. Just enough for a hint of claws. Just enough for feathered wings to shift into jagged mimicries of his own.

You know what could be an interesting thing? The wings are Realms in origin. We know the FentonNightingales separated into the Fentons and Nightingales some time after Jack, so whose to say that the Nightingales didn't get into magic. Perhaps they were given a gift to thank them after a bit of protection or assistance. And the infinite realms are well, infinite. It attaches to all worlds, including say the more demonic ones. But whose to say none of the Fentons made a deal or three in the generations following. They were witch hunters after all, perhaps they need something to keep up with the "traitors" of their bloodline.

Perhaps a deal which resulted in those matching wings.

Now, how could they find out their relation with the Fentons? While there could be the adoption route, what if instead it was right after Danny's accident.

He died screaming, visibly got electrocuted, his wings are torched, there's no way they're not taking him to the hospital. Which means things like blood tests, maybe even a donated organ or two because someone doesn't get blasted with that much electricity without consequences.

Which, it's the batfamily, they definitely have alarms set up for any sort of family pings for both themselves and their rogues. Just in case.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Also had no idea where to put it but if this includes demons and ghosts feeding on fear, or emotions in general, then Scarecrow could be instinctively attempting to feed and grow his wings. Also he deserves raven or rook wings. Maybe a jay's if you wanna go for color.

Oh my gosh, even if Alfred and Gotham don't get together, they definitely have tea together and spar. They're definitely co-parenting either platonically or romantically, it doesn't matter this is their specialist lil boy. Who then brings even more of the specialist lil ones ever!

God I love the implications of Clockwork and Pariah creating a cloak of wings for a ghostling for them to use as their feathers slowly grow back. Love what that implies for the culture of the ghost zone. Love the idea of it maybe having an influence on Danny's wings in ghost form since a ghost's appearance is influenced by their image about themself.

#ask answered #batman au #batman #dc #dcu #dcxdp #dpxdc #cryptid batman #cryptid batfam #normally I don't really like demon aus #but this is honestly really interesting in implications #I am honestly here for this and am very interested #Would the batfam also get wings (that is feathered ones)#What is Constantine's reaction to Batman #Does it ping similar to a half-demon or something else #Does he just think it's a Gotham thing since like 3+ portals to hell have been opened there #I honestly don't think Alfred would let Jason die #Like demon blood is actually kinda OP in the DC world #We've seen Constantine stabbed through the center (like practically split in half hotdog style) and heal pretty freakin easy #Okay but wings #like wing ideas #Jack has condor wings (very big & also death implications)#Danny deserves lil dove wings as bby before they're scorched #They deserve to be similar to galaxy when grown back #White flecks from Clockwork & the darker bits from Pariah with hints of his own colors swirling together #Jazz has either a finch's wings or cockatoos #OH #Bruce has nicobar pigeon wings #Closest living relative of the dodo #And it is Gorgeous

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you-know-honey · 7 months

Text

𝕯𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘

Chapter I:ℜ𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔶 𝔇𝔞𝔶

Sodo/Dewdrop x fem!reader

Summary: Copia summons a new nameless ghoul

Word Count: 1977

Note: bad english, i'm new to this whole ghost thing, correct me if i'm wrong on anything, I will use a name for the protagonist for more practicality.

Chapter II...→

The place was devoured by darkness, thunder rumbled outside the abbey like cries from heaven in response to profane acts, the wind hit the stained glass windows and lightning illuminated them with a flash of light, stained glass windows that reflected images of Baphomet and other demons. . Regarding Cardinal Copia, his face seemed extremely serious, something unusual for him but the situation warranted it. In each corner of a pentagram were each Ghoul and Ghoulette, the tools of the ritual. It would be an important night, a gift for the group, a refreshing element for the world.

Copia looked up at the sky, looking behind the glass dome above their heads at the moon obscuring the sun, the time had come, he walked down the stairs towards the group, with a light touch to the ground and the gunpowder ignited, burning powerful and bright, until completing the figure of a pentagram connecting with each Ghoul. The group placed their instruments in front of them, giving each other a supportive look.

Montain set the rhythm with the drums, Cumulus took the keyboard with Cirrus, Swiss and Aurora started the singing, Phantom activated his rhythm guitar, Rain shone with his bass and Sodo showed off his guitar. The instrumental flooded the chapel, the melody reverberated in every foundation and made the place shake. The ritual had a single motive, a single need, each Ghoul gave his best, letting some of his essence flow over the fire, calling one of his own, inviting whatever responded on the other side to come out of the darkness and join them.

"Belial, Behemoth, Beelzebub" Cardinal Copia sang, calling to the great leaders, asking for a demon from among his legions "Asmodeus, Satanas, Lucifer"

The place was filled with abysmal and intelligible murmurs, beings from the other side of the pentagram observing from the shadows without daring to cross the threshold. Copia looked proud and excited like a child to feel so many presences present with him, all interested in her vocation. Lightning fell around the Ministry with more force than before, attracted by the power, Swiss and Aurora began their prayers, in a language that only the creatures of the abyss could understand.

A murmur rose from everyone, a shiver ran through the body of all the Ghouls, something had answered the call and had crossed.

Thick black smoke emerged from the gunpowder and condensed into a humanoid figure with no fixed features other than shining fangs. He made small jumps inside the pentagram from one side to the other, looking (if you can put it that way) at each of the ghouls, analyzing them with amusement.

He danced with small childish leaps from one to another, from air to earth, from earth to quintessence, from quintessence to water. She tried to get closer to Sodo, the fire demon. He showed her fangs and the small cloud of smoke walked away scared, it was clear that she didn't want another Fire Ghoul and honestly one was more than enough. She snuck between Montain's drum set cymbals, breaking her personal space several times to check her height in amazement, the ghoul couldn't help but smile nervously.

Cirrus and Cumulus greeted the entity excitedly, letting out small laughs to get its attention. The figure floated towards them and smiled back, playing with the cloaks on their shoulders. She briefly made eye contact with Rain, but out of shyness it wasn't long before the ghoul looked away from her. The specter laughed softly and danced around Phantom a little, plucking the strings of his acoustic guitar with his ethereal hand. Swiss and Aurora laughed at the scene, enjoying seeing how the humanoid being seemed delighted with everyone present, both demons rubbing shoulders in complicity.

Cardinal Copia was excited, this was his first ritual to summon Ghouls from hell, although he somewhat regretted Sodo's bitter attitude, he counted on the others and especially the Ghoulettes to give a good welcome.

The figure took one more turn and his laughter echoed like a child. He returned to the center of the pentagram, looking at the eclipse behind the dome, and raised his hands to the sky, as if he could touch the moon. One after another drops of cold rain began to fall quickly, until they almost became a sea on the ministry, the figure smiled and turned towards Aurora, the latter tensed immediately and one shiver after another crossed her back. The air began to get cold and become salty, capable of hurting the nose when inhaling, everyone could feel it, even demons like Sodo so carried away in their element felt cold, the type that you can only find if you get lost in space or in the last circle of the hell.

Aurora took a step back. The band's instrumental was accompanied by a piano and an energetic female voice, the humanoid figure approached Swiss and extended his hand.

"Hello" the figure greeted before a group of lightning fell again, filling the entire room with absolute white, extinguishing the infernal fire and thus ending the ritual.

Everything returned to darkness after such a dramatic birth, Cardinal Copia applauded excitedly and the lights turned on showing a strange lump covered with a thin and opaque black fabric, a hand with shiny black enamelled nails peeking out of it.

The ghouls avoid the gaze of the lump on the ground, somewhat uncomfortable and extremely tired. But Cardinal Copia waited to see the slightest movement to ensure that the ritual had gone perfectly.

The lump trembled with a movement similar to a first breath.

"Okay, everyone out." announcement, the Cardinal "It's time to find out what they have sent us from hell"

The group's rib cage calmed and a huge sigh of relief escaped everyone's lips. Cirrus and Cumulus crossed their fingers, it was no secret that since Aurora's arrival no girl ghoul had arrived. The ghoul area needs more feminine energy.

"Swiss, can you wait outside?" Copia asked him.

Like owl heads, the group looked at Swiss waiting for his response. Even the disinterested Montain had turned to look.

"Yes," he responded with the firmest tone he could fake.

Aurora approached and pulled one of her sleeves, she didn't have to speak, her concern was obvious. The last time it had been Aether who had stayed at the ritual to bring Phantom. Aether never came back.

Swiss approached Aurora's ear in a hug. "I'm not going anywhere," she whispered, trying to calm her agitated essence.

The ghoulette didn't believe him, clearly. But I trust him, because Swiss never lied.

Inside, Swiss's soul wanted to run after them, but his duty prevented him from showing that kind of rebellion.

He turned to the Cardinal, this walk way towards Swiss handing him a shiny new helmet, accompanied by the usual uniform.

Copia crouched in front of the bundle, lifting the fabric a little to discover what it was hiding, squinting in case everything had failed, giving it more suspense. The figure trembled and both Copia and Swiss took a few steps back.

Little by little the figure stood up, showing a wild tangle of short black hair from which two small black horns with white tips protruded, its tail uncoiled from around its leg and waved behind its back, its hands holding the blanket to avoid being naked.

"She's a she," Swiss sighed with the air contained in his lungs and his lower lip slightly fallen.

"Wonderful" Copia pronounced with some pride, the girl raised her head quickly and the Cardinal was met with a gaze of coal-black pupils and eyelids that contrasted with the glaucous blue of his irises, the creature opened its mouth showing its fangs, perhaps to speak but I don't breathe out any words.

Swiss knocked after the Cardinal, a sign that he should start talking before everything became awkward.

"Do you want to get dressed?" Copia asked in a friendly tone. The girl nodded and the Cardinal nudged Swiss lightly to hand the package to the demon.

Her eyes lit up when he saw her clothes and without shame he completely dropped her blanket, amazed by everything he had before her. Swiss immediately looked at the ceiling and prayed to Satan that Copia had done the same. The lack of what they called modesty was normal in new ghouls, small details that lost importance in hell.

"It would be ideal if you could start with the pants," suggested Copia who had turned around.

They heard the fabric slide down her legs, the metal buttons clicked as she pushed them into the buttonholes of her pants, the next time she put her feet on the ground it was with the boots, giving her a few extra inches of height.

She continued dressing, tucking the Victorian-sleeved blouse into her arms and securing the vest to her body. She looked at herself for a few minutes, satisfied with her appearance.

"Already?" Copia asked, who had turned around with a hand over his eyes, he seemed somewhat uncomfortable or self-conscious about the situation.

"Yes" A feminine and friendly voice answered him.

Copia looked through his fingers to make sure before removing his hand from his face and remembering that he had a script to follow and had to start as soon as possible.

"Ahem…" He cleared his throat and began to speak. Swiss stood silently next to he, holding her helmet. "Do you know why you're here?"

"Yes" replied with a timid tone.

"You are here to be part of Ghost, to help me with your talent to bring the message of the Clergy to the whole world, do you understand that?" The young woman nodded "Do you understand that you are not indispensable and can be replaced if you become a stone in my way to fulfill my mission?" That was the part of Copia that he hated the most because he tended to get more attached to his ghouls and ghoulettes than he should, the punishment of returning to hell was too great for small delusions of fame or prominence, that is, he had forgiven Sodo several of those but He remembered that that was the reason why Papa Emeritus III had been taken out of circulation.

"I understand, sir." He pronounced as seriously as the situation warranted. "My only duty is to help you fulfill your duty to the Clergy and bring our Lord's message to the world."

The girl walked forward, face to face with Cardinal Copia. Now came the fun part, Copia took the helmet from Swiss's hands and placed it on the girl's head, thus sealing the 'contract'.

"Well…I…" Copia took a moment to remember the next step. "What's your name?"

"Aesir, sir," she responded quickly, almost over the Cardinal's question.

"Well…Aesir, the third quintessence ghoul" He raised his voice, proclaiming. "Welcome, dear" Copia lost the threatening and vehemently image that she had maintained until then, when she gave Aesir a warm welcome hug.

The girl seemed happy to have that hug but Swiss was sweating cold.

"He's one of your companions, Swiss," Copia said and the demon approached and extended his hand towards her.

"Hello," Aesir took Swiss's hand, shaking it in greeting.

"Swiss" I call Copia.

He sighed, afraid of the next words the Cardinal might say.

"Could you take Aesir with the others?" The ghoul's mouth opened a little in surprise, he was expecting farewell words "The girls will be very happy to see another female face in the pavilion."

Swiss smiled with deep relief and nodded. "Yes, Cardinal." He directed the girl to the door. "After you," he offered chivalrously.

"Oh, Aesir," Copia called. "If there is any problem, don't hesitate to tell me. In cases of emergencies or things like that." The Cardinal said goodbye.

"Bye," she said as Swiss closed the door behind them both.

I hope you like it, I'm new to the fandom and the lore is somewhat complicated, all help would be VERY welcome.

#sodo ghoul #montain #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghost #cardinal copia #aurora ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #nameless ghost #oc original character #fanfic #slow burn #per sodomizer eriksson #sodomizer ghoul #swiss ghoul #sodo x reader #dewdrop x reader #spanish writer

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copiousloverofcopia · 8 months

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Hey there Ghesties!!!

Here is something a bit unexpected that literally just came pouring out of me after talking with my ghestie, @cardinal-copia-popia, and here it is for you all to enjoy as well...

ITS ALL ANGST in this one ghesties, no smut this time!

Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info!

All Just For Show

Papa Emeritus IV has reached the final show of the ReImperatour and you know what's coming next...

Also available HERE on AO3!

Read below the cut!

The roar of the crowd was overwhelming as you stood quietly to the left of the stage. Your lips still warm from the touch of Papa’s kiss. Tears, pricking relentlessly at your eyes, as your chest tightened up against your breath. Everyone knew it was coming, and while you couldn't change it—it did not make it easier for you.

“Did you really think we would leave you without a goodnight kiss?" Copia asked the crowd, ready to serenade them with his father’s song. You blinked and a single tear fell from the beads collecting on your lashes. Swallowing back the pain as you watched him, ever so magnificent on the stage. A presence that rivaled his brothers, and a voice that was nothing short of lustrous perfection. He was not only the people’s Papa, becoming so beloved among the fans, he was your Papa.

As the song continued your heart began to race within your chest. Pounding behind your breast with the powerful thrust of an engine. The sweat collecting in the small of your back as you waited for the moment the music would begin to fade. The inevitable, drawing closer with each strum of the guitar and note sung.

Then it happened—the moment came when Dew and Phantom’s guitars began to wane. Swiss dropping to the floor of the stage above them. Thrashing around and ripping at his helmet. Snarling at the crowd before turning his sights to Copia.

The delicious ghoul reached into his vest and pulled from it a dagger. The blade, catching the lights from the rafters as he crept across the stage. The whole ritual audience, catching on as they stopped to watch in both horror and awe. Their screams and cheering, filling your ears like the screeching of banshees. The sound, causing your tears to spill faster now than you could ever hope to stop.

In one swift motion, Swiss pounced on Copia. Drawing back the dagger and driving it into him. Over and over in front of the crowd. The thick, rich spattering of blood covering the stage in a red glow. Your heart was broken, the scene shattering to all who also stood in the crowd—both of you powerless to change it. You clutched tight to the pillar beside you, hoping it would give you the strength to endure, but you were already crumbling inside.

It was no secret that your Papa’s demise was coming. The Ministry determined that Copia’s reign would end as all others before him, but now seeing it played out before you, was more than you could bear. Dropping to your knees, face buried in your hands, just as the crew pulled Copia’s body off to the side. A new song beginning to play as Bishop Mary Goore was led out onto the stage. Taking up the mic and bringing forth the new era of Ghost to the masses. Your stomach, turning as the crowd began howling and cheering once more.

You began to tremble–your whole body shaking at what you had witnessed. The ache inside your chest, unlike anything you had ever felt before. The composure you held for yourself, now completely lost as you continued to sob. The tears falling to the ground—their sound cloaked by the music continuing to play.

“Amore?” came a voice from behind you. A man standing in the darkness, revealed only for a moment by the quick passing of the spotlight.

“Cope?” you asked, watching as he ducked down beside you. Wiping his face of the smear of paints and sweat with a towel.

“Amore, what is wrong?” Copia asked you as he pulled you against his chest. Your breathing, slowing as you listened to the sound of his strong, still beating, heart.

“Oh Cope it was awful.” you cried against him, covering yourself in the faux blood that had been saturating his chest. Copia squeezed you tight, bringing his lips to the crown of your head. Kissing you and breathing in the scent of your hair.

“It was hard for me too, but we always knew this day would come…though I think Swiss may have enjoyed it too much.” he nervously chuckled, reminding you of things you already knew.

“I know but…”

“But what amore?” he asked, titling your chin up to face him. Staring into your eyes as if he could see the pain, you still felt deep down inside.

“I never want to watch you die again!” you cried, Copia giving you a soft smile. Kissing you passionately as you melted into him. The warmth of his skin reminding you he was real. Alive and well, as he held you in his arms. The blubbering mess that you were, proving to him just how much he meant to you. When he released his lips from yours, he took in a deep breath before he continued to speak.

“I know…I know…but it is time for the next guy and this is how it's done you know? They expect a performance…and amore…you know that after it’s all said and done, this was all just for show.”

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ghostchems · 1 year

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restroom detour - cardinal copia x female!reader

you're out with your friends at the new local hot spot: the pinnacle lounge. a trip to find the bathroom has you stumbling into something not for your eyes.

notes: 2.1k word count, mdni! 18+! there be smut here. also i just love me some sweet cardi. ao3 link.

You and your friends were chattering away at the bar, drinks in hand. It had been a long work week and you were happy to be out with friends to blow off some steam. The Pinnacle Lounge had seemingly popped up overnight in your town and quickly gained a reputation for being a unique, good time.

The moment you stepped in earlier that night, you could see why. There were people dressed as nuns and priests, some wearing shiny masks and suspenders, mixed in with those dressed for a night out. The color scheme for the bar was black and gold while the lights shifted from neon green to a bright purple as the night wore on.

The music thumps and you all bop long with it. At this point, you are feeling pretty good as you finish up your second drink.

“I gotta pee!” You chirp cheerfully, giving everyone a small wave as you walk away. You set your empty glass down on the bar and take a look around.

“Fuck.”

You realize you have absolutely no idea where you are going. A few people bump into you as you make your way around the perimeter of the bar before you come upon a dark hallway. There is a door that looks like it has some kind of fancy “G” on it and you assume it’s the women’s bathroom.

The moment you open the door and step inside no less than ten eyes are on you. They were all wearing cloaks, concealing their entire bodies and were peering out of their hoods at you. It was dark enough in the room that you couldn’t see their faces. You finally take in your surroundings, the low glow of black candles lining the room, the smell of incense flooding your nostrils. Your gaze settles on the black altar in front of you and you draw in a gasp.

A naked woman is spread atop it, a pentagram drawn in blood on her stomach. A man was between her legs, his fingers digging into her hips as he glares at you, his mismatched eyes sending chills down your spine. His face was painted like a skull and he wore a black robe with gold details, his dark hair hanging in his face.

“Uh…uh…sorry!” Your voice sounds incredibly high-pitched as you back out of the room.

You can feel your heart beating out of your chest as you slam the door shut behind you, your feet carrying you towards the end of the hall. A man exits one of the other doors, stepping out right in front of you and you collide with a thud. For the brief second you are touching, you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Eh, mi dispiace, mi dispiace.” He mumbles, his hands moving to grip your arms to help you catch your balance.

You look up at him and the first thing you notice are his eyes – the same ones that you had seen in the room. A jolt of fear causes you to jump back from him and he releases your arms, his eyes widening. He is wearing a cassock and biretta and his dark paint around his eyes were somewhat smudged.

“Are you alright, cara?” Copia sounds genuinely concerned, his accent thick as he reaches his hand out to you. You stare at it for a moment then you take another step back.

“T-there are people in one of the rooms doing weird stuff.” The words spill out of your mouth, your brain too rattled to describe exactly what you saw.

“Ah, yes… the ritual.” He sighs softly, sounding almost annoyed. “No need to be afraid, cara. They are just, eh, partaking in carnal pleasures.”

“But-but the candles and the cloaks and the blood!”

“How can I explain this to you?” Copia ponders aloud, his white eye glowing in the darkness. He looks around the hallway, his gaze settling on a bench against the back wall of the hallway. “Come.” His hand finds yours, pulling at it gently as he moves toward the bench. You realize he is wearing leather gloves, your eyes falling to the one in your hand, noticing the “G” symbol on it.

You wobble after him, your platform boots clunking as you pull your dress down with your free hand. He settles on the bench, carefully pulling you close to him as your knees touch. His hand still held yours, his thumb brushing it as his free hand removed his biretta. Brown hair spills out from underneath and he smooths it neatly back. His eyes were soft, contrasting with the sharpness of his nose and his dramatic eye paint.

“So, you’ve seen the inverted crosses around the bar, correct?

“Y-yes.”

“Good. I am a member of the clergy that owns and operates this bar. It is meant as a safe space for everyone to come, have fun, be themselves and… partake in sin.” His lips curl into a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. You feel a blush creep up your cheeks.

“But not in a harmful way. The ritual you walked in on is very safe, very controlled. It is meant to represent, eh, the procreation of the antichrist.”

You stare at him dumbly, feeling that you are too drunk for this conversation. Copia smiles warmly at you, letting go of your hand and bringing his up to your cheek to caress it gently. “The things you saw that frightened you are merely decoration to help establish the mood. It’s meant to be fun; it’s meant to be dramatic… it’s meant to be erotic.”

You can feel heat start to rise between your legs by his words, causing you to squeeze your thighs together. Of course, he notices, and drops his finger to your chin, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. Your lips part as you shiver from his touch, your wide eyes meeting his duochromatic gaze.

“Does this make you feel better about what you saw, dolce?” He purrs, inching his face even closer to yours. His smile has turned from sweet to seductive, his eyes shining mischievously. You can only bring yourself to nod and your nose brushes against his as you do so. A shuddered breath leaves your lips as you find your hands find his chest.

Copia takes this as his opening and presses his lips to yours tenderly. You can taste the alcohol on his soft lips, your hands traveling up his chest to the back of his neck. He sighs against you, deepening the kiss as his tongue slips into your mouth as he pulls you in close. His hands start to wander down your sides, settling on your ass before he slips them under your dress.

You moan softly as he starts to massage it, the feeling of his leather gloves on your sensitive skin sending shivers down your spine. His teeth tug at your bottom lip as he pulls away from you, giving you ass one last squeeze as his fingers drift to pull your dress down for you. Copia then grabs your legs and pulls them into his lap.

He is paying so much attention to you, despite the silence between you both. It’s a comfortable silence as he caresses your legs (and you are mentally patting yourself on the back for shaving them that day). The fear of the ritual you had witnessed is completely gone now, your mind and body at ease as you settle into Copia’s lap.

This was not how you thought your night was going to go but you are not complaining. This was the most you’ve been touched by someone in a long time, having given up on dating a while ago and you weren’t typically one to put yourself out there like this. Something about him, the way he gazed at you, the way he cared enough to explain away what you had seen…

His fingers start to drift to your inner thighs, drawing small circles as they continue to move up. You swallow thickly, wide eyes looking back at him as your cheeks flush. Your legs spread ever so slightly, allowing him to continue further up your thigh.

“Is this okay, dolce?” Copia whispers, brushing his fingers even higher. Your face is completely flushed now, the closer he gets to your cunt the more wet it becomes. There is some nervousness buzzing around in the back of your head – despite being hidden by the darkness of the hallways, you were still in a public place. But again… this bar was owned and operated by a satanic organization…

“Yes…please.”

He pulls your underwear to the side, his fingers dipping into your wet folds. Copia hums in approval, then presses one his fingers against your entrance. You shudder, grabbing on to his cassock and pulling him close. His nose brushes against your cheek before settling his face in your neck, breathing you in deeply.

“Such a naughty girl.” He growls against you, his finger curling upward, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside you. Your hips buck at the feeling, squeezing your lips shut as a moan bumbles up your throat. You feel him chuckle against your neck then presses a kiss to it as he slips another finger inside.

He starts to kiss, bite and suck at your neck, and by now you are feeling drunk off of him. You can tell by how roughly he’s moving his mouth on your neck that he’s leaving marks all over you. Your lips are quivering now, trying desperately to hold in your sounds which is all but impossible now as he adds a third finger.

Copia pumps his fingers in and out of you, quickening his pace as he relentlessly presses into your bundle of nerves. Your entire body is trembling, your hips jerking wildly against his fingers. At this point, you’re over being discreet as breathy moans spill from your lips.

Your hands move to grip at his shoulders, nails digging into them as you squeeze your eyes shut. He’s growling against you now and you can feel the vibration rumble of them down through your chest. Your muscles start to spasm and tense as the rest of your body trembles, a sharp cry rising from your lungs as your orgasm falls over you.

Your chest heaves as you start to come down from the high, feeling even more hazy than before. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, hovering there for a moment as you feel his warm breath on you before he pulls away. “I am very glad we ran into each other tonight, dolce.” He purrs, bringing his fingers up to taste them. You’re still recovering as your mouth drops open, watching him. “Ehm… why did you walk into that room in the first place?”

“Oh, well…” You feel a pang of embarrassment in your chest as you chuckle quietly. “I was looking for the bathroom.”

He breaks out into a brilliant, toothy smile. “Tesoro, it’s right behind you — eh, if you still have to go.”

“I probably should now.” You grin as you swing your legs off of his lap, your boots clunking to the floor. He pulls your dress down for you as you stand and you can feel yourself start to blush again. “Thank you.” You squeak before scurrying to the bathroom.

Once inside, you do your business while your mind is exploding, thinking about what just happened. What did just happen? You got finger fucked by a stranger in a bar after witnessing a satanic ritual simulating the procreation of the antichrist. Maybe this was a typical Friday night for The Pinnacle Lounge.

Your legs are still trembling from the intensity of the orgasm, wobbling as you make your way to the mirror. There are very obvious red marks all along your neck as well as some black smudges from his eye paint. You think about trying to wipe some of it off, or at least try to make some of the marks less noticeable for a second before you decide… fuck it.

As you wash your hands, you start to panic, thinking that maybe he won’t be out there waiting for you. It wouldn’t be the end of the world but — you really wanted him to be there. There was something about him that just drew you to him. Again, your mind turns back to how sweet he was with you and how handsome he was.

When you leave the bathroom, he is standing near the bench, waiting for you. He looks like he is almost nervous, his cheeks flushed as he turns his biretta over in his hands.

“Dolce, I’ve realized we have, ehm, kind of done things a bit backwards tonight.” His lips twitch into a small smile, reaching for your hand. You immediately place your hand in his and he presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “I’m Cardinal Copia… ehm, will you allow me to buy you a drink?”

#cardinal copia #cardinal copia x female reader #cardinal copia x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfics #ghost fanfic #my writing

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