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#popia ascends
spookyghouly · 7 months
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goodevening ghesties
i luckily tested negative for covid this morning meaning i was FINALLY free from quarantine isolation just in time to go to the ghost concert!! this is my 5th ritual in as many years and it may have been the best (though, you never forget your first 😉). here’s my ghost kia forum night 1 concert breakdown of best moments, in no particular order!
cumulus and aurora ghoulettes twirling each other, blowing kisses to each other, stroking each other’s cheeks. this one was for the dykes <3
popia, drawing out the ending to mary on a cross: “are you guys still saying cross?? I want you to say MARIJUANA!!!!!”
ABSOLUTION F U C K E D LIVE!!!!
Respite ALSO fucked like the BASS IN THE BEGINNING?? I FELT IT IN MY CHEST IN MY LUNGS, I THINK IT MADE MY HEART BEAT DIFFERENTLY. SOUL RESET. I almost cried when copia left the stage thinking about how this is probably my last time seeing him (I completely forgot the encore existed I was too swept up in It All ™ you know?)
Dancing Skeletons. They better release the film because I want to study it to learn their dance.
they had two stages set up, the normal one up front and a mini set up in the back with a grand piano and several chairs. more on that in a sec.
Seestor gave papa a boxing robe and gloves for “fighting” his way back from the small stage to the main stage. the crowd started barking at him to hype him up like he was actually about to enter a boxing ring lmaoo
when he got to the back stage papa said it was so nice to see the people in the back “in the stevie wonder seats” lmaoooo
then he said he wanted to bite us???? and had us all snarl at him like we were biting dogs. deranged behavior. love him.
okay no my true fav moment was the orchestral arrangement of if you have ghosts. it put me in such a throwback to the first ghost ritual I attended in london when he took time to introduce each band member just as ghoul. 5 years later and on another continent, it is an even more beautiful arrangement of the song. The band members were 2 cellists and a grand piano player—I couldn’t tell if the woman to the far right was playing a theremin or vocalizing—if anyone knows can you tell me?
the skeletons picked papa up at the stage right mini stage and had him like crowd surf on top of them all the way back to center stage it was AWESOME?? I hope they got a cool overhead shot of it for the recording.
they definitely knew we were all anxious he was dying tonight and there were many moments where papa faked us out that he was dying. after the first or second song he made a comment like “ah we are quickly approaching the end of this era” and later when he told us to “not be sad it’s almost over, you’ve had a good fucking time and then it must end” I couldn’t help but think he was talking about more than just the concert
on a related note, when the skeletons first came out in twenties they circled papa and I think it was a deliberate fake out/homage to when he ascended in mexico city last year when the nuns circled him.
met many delightful ppl giving away handmade bracelets, stickers, and trinkets, as well as someone who had scooped up a bunch of mummy dust bucks from the confetti gun and was passing them out by the exit 🥰💜 u people made my day
anyway here’s that haul:
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this has been the update from new plushia at the forum, goodnight folks!
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slavghoul · 1 year
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Dear Slav,
Sooooo do you see the Wizard of Oz -ending of Respite on the Spitalfields being about anything else besides Papa IV? 👀 ”He appeared to ascend / So we all stood there in awe” seems very on the nose…
As every album is the first and last album of a Papa (Or in Copia’s case his first ever and last as a cardinal), what do you think that that these lines tell us about Popias demise? We will go softly into the night… 😭
I’d love to hear your thoughts on the matter (if you’ve discussed this before, sorry for bothering you with reruns).
Thank you for all, you keep the Ghesties updated and entertained ❤️✨
I don't really like connecting songs with the lore, I see them as separate entities existing independently of each other. Though, having said that, the line 'We will go softly into the night' immediately made me think of a poem by Dylan Thomas that I like, Don't go gentle into that good night, especially the last stanza which goes like this-
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-and if I were to look at this from the lore point of view.. well, I love drama, I love mess, so if anything I hope that when his time comes, Papa will rage and fight, and not just go softly into the night like a weakling. Go crazy, babygirl. Commit matricide. Karate chop God in half.
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lady-jane3 · 1 year
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°✧ chosen one ✧°
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pairing: popia x fem!reader
warnings: bit of a power imbalance/arranged marriage type of thing, he's a little greedy, & nsfw
a/n: I had to restart this one multiple times & im still not happy with it, I just got tired
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pic from pinterest
The appointed partner, of which Copia could not ascend without, pursed her lips and tried to maintain a stoic facade as she stood before the altar with a veil of black tulle cloaking over her head. Though she hadn’t known him too closely before Sister Imperator’s declared appointment of her, she had been certain that the arising Papa hadn’t been hiding his nature before: unassuming, unconfrontational, unsure, and unimposing. She deduced that the power and privileges of his new position had sunk in when he heard the news of his upcoming ascension, then corrupted his nature with the offer of all the things he now had at his fingertips.
Perhaps it was a good thing, desiring power and using it selfishly after all the times he had been walked all over. Though the veiled Sister wondered how that could be possible when even she – in as simple of a position as she was rising too – had to give up a partial extent of exercising free will when the position appointment had been made. In her mind and the way things had been presented to her, the power came with responsibilities that required sacrifice for the Ministry’s sake  – not selfishness. 
The ceremonial words were being spoken, read from a thick unholy text older than Nihil, and the proceedings continued with the gazes of everyone in the Ministry focused on her. Her head bowed and gaze fixed low on the ground, she waited until the next cue she had to say or do something through the initiation. A few Latin words were spoken there, a lifting of the veil, a drink from the gold chalice between unholy blessings, a drawing of an inverted crucifix on her forehead, and finally a turn towards the audience.
She looked at them without hesitation, thoroughly mentally prepared for this responsibility, but was uncertain at the sight of Copia at the entrance doors of the chapel. He walked assuredly down the center aisle, taking her side for the part of the ceremony that joined them together in the eyes of their Dark Lord. Then it was her duty to anoint him into the higher rank, to make him repeat the words after her and crown him as Papa. He would step up to the altar where she stood then, together, they turned to the congregation and took in the joyous applause from the masses. 
The silence, diligence, and restraint from inside the chapel had vanished behind the closed doors of his newly-prepared chambers. He stood a short distance from the foot of the canopied bed, unfastening and pulling away the extravagant pieces of his costuming from his frame. Things were piled over a nearby plush armchair until he was down to his usual tight black pants, loose poet blouse, and embroidered vest. Then he turned to her, expectation in his expression and his gloved hands folded.
“Are you waiting for me to help you?” He asked, seeming almost bored.
She looked at him through the veil with confusion, “Oh, um, no. I’m wondering what you’re in such a rush to get to, isn’t there some other part of this ceremony aside from the ritual itself?”
He sighed and started to tug at his gloves, lifting the leather material finger by finger then tossing them aside, “Some Papas choose to have another event after the ritual, yes, but I took the liberty of deciding against it. The festivities after are usually for unions that are more… like a marriage. We may have something like that planned for later, if you really wish, but it’s too late to have anything planned for today.”
“Oh…” She nodded, a surprising twinge of bitterness striking her. He could’ve at least framed it differently than to say this was practically meaningless to him and only for the purpose of his ascension.
“You are free to do as you wish, but we are expected to remain in these chambers for the remainder of the day. I am, eh, sure you know what for.” He explained, started to step towards her just slowly enough to let there be time for her to back away. 
The veiled Sister took a single step back but stopped and watched him approach, feeling a breath shudder through her while her feet remained stuck in place  as he reached for the edge of the black veil then lifted it over her head. The thin fabric fell to the ground behind her frame and he watched her reaction with an emotionless gaze, waiting for something. He reached for her hands, looking at the rings glimmering in the sunlight over her fingers. As though in thought, his gaze lingered for a moment before it slowly met her eyes again. 
“You have nothing to fear from me, I have no power to force you to do anything.” He spoke firmly then took a half-step closer, his lips near her ear. “But do not deny yourself. From me and to me. You accepted your appointed role and to rightfully be mine. I did the same, I am rightfully yours. Do not hold yourself away from it if there is no reason for it.”
His fingers brushed along her cheek and traced the line of her jaw, his voice almost a growl in her ear. She had seen him change with the power he was granted and now he was encouraging her to join him, to revel in the privileges that she was now allotted with a new title. There didn’t have to be guilt over greed or power. No, instead it fed a darker impulse, one beyond the ordinary actions people took in the Ministry and narratives that everyone heard within its walls. She could feel a razor’s edge of danger in it, that he perhaps was lording power over her and that she could do the same to him and that all this time she had pitied him for how he was treated as a cardinal when he had transformed into this calculating man taking over as Papa, yet she found myself leaning into it.
His gentle touch lingered along the curve of her shoulder then to her side as he spoke to coax her further into accepting it: “I had chosen you from the start, you know. I am glad you accepted, bella, but you must tell me now to stop before it becomes hard for me to do so. It is difficult with you.”
His partner drew back to look into his eyes once more before feeling the answer come to her, head nodding and a quiet plea breathing out from her parted lips in acceptance. Swiftly, Copia glided around to stand behind her and unfasted the intricate bindings of her ceremonial dress, letting it all fall to the ground piece by piece. Only when all of her skin had been bared to his sight did he offer a hand to step forward, his gaze taking in every detail while his hands seemed to tremble against the impulse of feeling it all under his touch. With a sweeping gesture, he sat at the nearest side of the bed and brought her to sit beside him. Then he brought her legs to rest over his lap, hands smoothing along the skin. 
“Stay here and allow me to take you in, bella.” He directed, his hand gentle along the side of her leg before he stood up and reached for the first hook holding his vest together. 
Though he had asked to watch her, it started to feel much more like she was the one meant to be watching him in his process of undressing completely. Anticipation started to build, lining her spine and making her stomach feel light as she waited for the very moment when he would finally reach for her. He didn’t give a moment to wait once the tight pants were peeled from his legs, retaking his place beside her and drawing her up towards the head of the bed. Her head rested over a plush pillow that felt like what a cloud might be imagined to feel like. His hands reached to her sides, holding her for a moment then trailing his desirous hold down to her hips. Their warm touch glided over the tops of her thighs then between them, drawing them apart with a singular focus in his attention.
He hummed and his eyes met hers again, a wicked gleam to his expression as he looked up at his partner, “I have waited a long time for this, bella, you cannot imagine how many times I have thought of this. Of taking you this way, exactly as I please… you must stop me now if you do not want it.”
Just from the feeling of his teeth scraping gingerly against her thigh, her head seemed to spin. Nothing held her back or made her want to stop him. She reached a hand down to rake fingers through his short hair, tangling it between her fingers as best as she could in order to tug him in closer. A pleased growl rumbled in the base of his neck before his fingers dug into her thighs and he brought his mouth to her.
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ghostchems · 1 year
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May I request prompt 74 and 89 with Popia 👀
"the only way you're getting off is on my thigh" & "if you don't like my teasing why are you moaning" w/ popia copia :)
There are several ways in which Copia liked to relax, to soothe his mind, to focus on something other than his duties. Some of those ways were spicier than others, which is where you came in. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when your arrangement started but you knew it was during his days as Cardinal.
When he ascended to Papa, the stresses only grew so his sessions with you ended up being much more frequent. It made you feel special — he was Papa now, he could have anyone he wanted but he continues to choose you.
You are naked on his bed, laying on your back for him as his gloved hands roam your body. Copia is still dressed in his black papal robes from the recent service, his boney knees poking out from the slits in the length.
Copia leans down, his lips grazing your collar bone as his thumbs brush over your nipples. You are already covered in marks from him, from his paint, fingers and teeth. Heat pools between your legs as you squirm beneath him. He growls against you, teeth piercing your skin as he pinches your nipples.
Your hips jerk in search of any kind of friction while moans spill from your mouth. Copia knows how to play your body like a fiddle, knowing each and every spot and touch that drives you insane. You quickly snake your hand down between your legs only for him to snatch it before you reach your clit.
You whine needily and angrily, your body trembling as he pins your arm above your head. He lifts his head slowly, the paint smeared around his mouth and his dark eyes meeting yours. You groan again, hips bucking into the air. To your surprises, he seems amused by your behavior, when typically that kind of thing usually leads to some kind of punishment.
“If you don't like my teasing, why are you moaning?” Copia hums, the corners of his lips curling into a barely there smile.
“P-please, Papa.” You haven’t spoken in a while so your voice comes out low and hoarse. He breaks out into a full blown smile now, pleased with you and your neediness. “Please.” You whisper, reaching up for him.
Copia snatches your hand and pins it above your head, joining your other hand. He rests his knee between your legs, the fabric of his pants brushing against your clit only slightly but it’s enough to make you whine at the friction.
"The only way you're getting off is on my thigh, dolce.” He purrs, finally giving you permission as his head hovering just over yours. You grind yourself against his thigh with reckless abandon. Copia loves to see you this way, so needy for him, begging him for sweet release.
Copia swallows up the sounds pouring from your lips with his mouth. There is an extreme mix of tension and relief coursing through your — you’re finally able to taste him, tongues entwining while your muscles tense and release, heat pooling in your stomach as you get closer to snapping.
“Fuck, Papa.” You moan once he pulls away from you. His eyes bore into yours as his free hand settles on your throat. He squeezes and your eyes widen, lips parting with a strangled whine. Copia’s grip continues to tighten while your hips snap and stutter, back arching, legs trembling.
You cry out sharply, your entire body tensing as you cum on his thigh. He loosens his grip on your throat, air filling your lungs while you catch your breath. His lips graze your cheek before making their way to yours, kissing you tenderly. He releases your throat and hands, settling his body against yours and nestles his face in the crook of your neck.
Once you come back to Earth, you lazily wrap your arms around him and hold him close to you. Neither of you say anything, there’s no need to.
Despite the teasing and the curious nature of your agreement, you know deep down that what he really wants is to relax next to someone and feel close to them.
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What if I were to ask you to keep going on about needy Copia? 👀
Then I would gladly do so, anon!!
I tried to be as thorough as possible as far as my personal HCs go.
NSFW under the cut
Needy Copia Continuation
Bite and lick and kiss his thighs and tummy, mark him up, make him squirm and whine. Bonus points if you squeeze and knead his ass at the same time. This is a quick way to get him desperate
He used to need to be tied up to keep his hands to himself, but he knows better now. It's become a game as you like trying to get him to lose control and forget, make him so desperate that he has to touch himself or try to get you to touch him (and he's been such a good boy that you give in, at least a little)
The man loves being on his knees, being forced to look up at you (A/N: and tbh I'm sad we don't get to see Papa on his knees like we used to see the cardinal). That's his favorite way to go down on you with you either standing or sitting and him on his knees before you. He'll lose his mind even more if you let him touch himself while he's doing this. (And it's even more arousing to him if he's wearing his papal regalia and/or his face paint)
Unlike Terzo, Copia isn't bratty. Copia wants to please you, to do a good job. He's not one to seek out punishment (unless he thinks he's done something that warrants it, then he'll ask for it). He doesn't have a very high tolerance for pain, however, so ignoring where he wants you most is usually the best way to go as a form of punishment (though I can see him liking to be spanked on occasion). Or making him watch as you pleasure yourself while he isn’t allowed to use his hands or move. That gets him going just as much as if you were actually touching him because he wants to be the one giving you such pleasure.
It's his preference to take care of you first, to worship you, to make your pleasure the priority. He'll kiss you all over, whispering how wonderful and perfect he thinks you are and telling you how much he loves you. He's so sweet and loving that you can't help but return the favor. He's awkward about the attention you're giving him at first, but this is what usually leads to the teasing and working him up into a frenzied state of need and want.
As I mentioned with his love language, he needs to be told he's doing a good job in whatever he's doing. Praise makes him putty in your hands and puts that pretty blush on his cheeks that spreads up to the tips of his ears.
Calling him Papa can have two different effects depending on if he's in a more dominant or submissive role. Calling him that early on will put him in a more dominant mindset, but if you call him that when he's a needy mess, it's been known to make him cum instantly.
And just as a note, I like to think Cardinal Copia would be submissive more often than not. Once he ascends, Popia's got more confidence and likes to be a little dominant more often. But as I've said, the submissive, needy side is still very much there, and you know when you need to give him the control he wants.
It is so easy to make Copia blush, and you love it. Just a little touch or stroke here and there, or the right word whispered in his ear (especially if you're in public), makes him a stuttering, blushing mess, ready to find a secluded place for you two to be more openly amorous. (I also like to think that if you could get away with it, he would totally be into you actually getting him off in a somewhat public place where he has to try to stay as quiet as possible while you tease him and make him cum. And, of course, he would gladly return the favor)
As I mentioned in the love bites post, he's a little embarrassed but turned on by having a visible mark on his neck. As much as it outwardly seems to embarrass him, he loves knowing it's there, that you left it for all the world to see that he's taken, that he belongs to you. He used to sometimes even ask you to leave a visible mark on him, but you know him well enough now that he no longer needs to ask.
When he's not whining, moaning, or whimpering, he talks a lot and swears, usually in Italian, as that's what he seems to default to when he's out of his mind with pleasure. He'll tell you how good you're making him feel, that he needs more, or shyly asks you to do something. He'll practically sob when he tells you how much he loves you. He'll full-on beg sometimes but he's just been so sweet and good that you can't help but give him exactly what he wants the second he asks for it. And he'll usually only resort to that kind of begging once he thinks he won't last much longer. Try to deny or delay his orgasm as long as you want, but he'll eventually reach a point where even just the barest of touches will send him over the edge, often making a mess all over himself. 
At the end of it all, hold him close, give him all the kisses, and tell him how much you love him because that man deserves all the love and adoration in the world and more. And with that love, you'll have him forever.
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copias-thrall · 4 years
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FULL VERSION OF POPIA’S ASCENSION
src Mauricio De Leon on FB
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voldythestrange · 4 years
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Popia has ascended and I am celebrating by wearing my Life Eternal tshirt yall
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misccee · 4 years
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Multifandom Haps
Broke: SPN Ruby 2.0 is back
Woke: COPIA ASCENDS TO PAPA IV
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gasolineghuleh · 4 years
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Pressure Release Valve
Commission from my ko-fi for @gaga-ghuleh! Prompt is a Dom Popia who comes home after a rough day. As his lover, you know the perfect way to tempt him into letting off some steam.
As always this will be posted on my ao3 as well, due to Tumblr being a spaghetti coded hell site.
cw: dom!Popia, choking, teasing, edging, spanking, use of the term daddy very lightly.
You lay spread eagle on the (now) blue clad bed, your shift tousled nicely around your frame. Of course it was artfully fluffed out by you, but he would be none the wiser. You have been waiting for him for what felt like hours now, but you knew how busy Papa was now that he had ascended. The Ghouls needed his attention now more than ever, as the second album for the Ghost project was in the works. That didn’t mean that he didn’t have time for you, however. He would usually fly through the door in a huff and instantly come to your side, burying his face in your hair and complaining about whatever shenanigans the Ghouls had gotten up to that day. It’s one of your favourite things- comforting him as he complains about his day.
The door to his chambers finally swings open as he enters, scowl already evident on his newly painted face. Something about his demeanor tells you that you shouldn’t push him- not tonight. However, you also know that this mood leads to some of the best fucks the two of you ever share. You decide, reason be damned, you’ll push him. Sometimes he needed to be pushed after a hard day for some good old fashioned stress relief. He knows why you do it, and you know that he’s always thankful for the excuse to let off some steam in a healthy way. You sit up onto your knees and address him.
“Welcome home, daddy.” Papa looks sharply to you through the door between the bedroom and the outer office. He clearly takes note of your shift and freshly brushed and shining hair. Copia gives you a quick jerk of his head as a ‘hello’ and returns to slowly removing his papal vestments. You can tell that his mind is preoccupied, presumably with something that happened within the clergy.
You rise from the bed in a slow and exaggerated manner, making sure that the shift exposes the top of your cleavage. Equally slowly you make your way to the door, leaning on the frame and watching as he removes the blue robe, tossing it to an adjacent chair with a sigh. His fingers trail to the buttons of his suit coat as he turns back to you, eyebrow raised.
“You had a good day of doing nothing, it seems. The Ghouls are running me ragged now that the ascendency is over with. So many questions about the next album. ‘What are we calling it, Papa?’ and ‘Do we need more keys, Papa?’. So many damned questions. Why did I get such a chatty bunch?” As he talks, his fingers dance over the buttons of his suit, shucking the overcoat quickly as he toes out of his shoes and kicks them to the side. He tosses the overcoat onto the back of a chair, draping it like he hadn’t done with the robe. Odd that he still shows reverence for his old suits, even though they weren’t the newly tailored papal robes.
“You complain but I think, Papa, that you quite like them.” You move fully into the room, coming forward to help him undo the buttons of the shirt he wears under the coat. “So many layers now. It’s such an inconvenience for me, you know. So much work just to get you down to a base level of comfort, hm?” Finally, a small smile tilts his lips up- you always know exactly what to say to make him feel a little better, no matter the situation. Under the paint he was the same Copia you knew and loved, just with an elevated status now. Lucky for you, you knew exactly how to work up your same old Copia.
“I suppose I do, yes. Right as always, dove. Perhaps I can have the papal tailors look into making these robes ‘easy off’ eh? Just for you. I’ll get some velcro installed so you can tear them off of me at a whim.” His eyes drift shut as you graze the back of your hand across his cheek and he pauses for a moment. Finally he grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles swiftly. “I miss you when I’m gone, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” You pull your hand from his grasp and continue your mission with the buttons, now moving to his wrists. “Copia… I don’t think I like the blue.” You glance up at him and see his eyes narrow just slightly. You know he’d picked blue of his own volition and it was quickly becoming a sore spot. You have a feeling that the Ghouls tease him for the colour choice as well.
“Go on.” He sounds like he’s feigning interest- your opinion of the colour choice doesn’t matter to him one way or the other. He is Papa. He makes the choices.
“Well the other Papas… their colours were so regal and commanding, you know? Red is strong, and green makes me think of greed and envy. Obviously red was a good choice to start the Ghost project with, especially with the tone that Papa went with. Green, now... green just made his paint look good and he knew it. Good examples for the Satanic church, yeah? Purple, well…” You can feel him tense under you as you remove his dress shirt and cast it to the side to join the robes.
“Purple what.” His tone has gone deadly soft- dangerous ground for you, you know. Your spine prickles at the thought of what could come next. Copia had a rivalry with Terzo that had become less friendly in recent years. You know he compares himself to the fallen anti-pope often, even down to how he performs on stage. A few times he even received notes from Terzo on his most recent performance, giving him “tips” on how to perform- something that only left him more incensed at him.
“Well purple just makes me think of opulence. Rich and decadent. Dark chocolate with rich red wine, and laying in bed fucking all day. The Third was a sensual lover, you know. I never got to fuck him, but damn did I try. Some of the other Siblings told me some down right horror stories about how their legs would just stop working after a while.” You laugh softly, and you can hear his intake of breath before he starts to speak. You cut him off. “Not to say that blue isn’t a /good/ choice, but it certainly isn’t the best is it?”
“I am warning you, little bird, tread carefully. Wouldn’t want to clip your wings, would we?” His words are short and quick, belying the slight anger that's beginning to rise to the surface. When your hand comes to rest on his face he snatches it quickly, gripping your wrist slightly tighter than necessary. “What else were you going to say, love?” Inwardly, you smile. This was going to be fun. His smile has a certain coldness to it that usually precedes the most delicious punishments he gives you.
“Oh nothing, Papa. Just. Perhaps we should rethink your colour scheme. It shouldn’t be too expensive to get new robes to replace those rags, would it?” You make sure to keep your tone light and airy, almost conversational.
That worked.
Papa surges forward and presses you back, one hand on your wrist and the other on your hip, guiding you backward until you hit the drink cabinet just a few steps behind you with a thump and a tinkle of glass. He’s over you, raised to his full height and looking down his nose at you. Heart in your throat, you go to move the hand he isn't holding forward before he snatches it and slams it back against the cabinet. Something inside breaks, and you’re vaguely aware of the sound of crunching glass. Papa’s two-toned eyes flick to the cabinet behind you and then narrow. You can hear some kind of liquid sloshing around, and you fully expect some sort of scolding for it.
“And you want to stand by that statement?” You pretend to think for a moment before nodding, smiling innocently. Papa leans slightly down, lips brushing the crest of your ear as he drops his tone, dangerous and predatory. “You’re going to regret this, little birdy.” Biting your own lip, you attempt to raise yourself to meet his eye.
“Then make me.”
Without another word Papa picks you up, heaving you over his shoulder and clamping one hand onto your upper thigh as he does so. As he pulls you away from the drink cabinet there’s another crash and more breaking glass from inside of it. You manage to yelp out a shocked cry before he starts walking in the direction of your shared bedroom, his other hand patting you rhythmically on the ass as he does so. He isn’t spanking you hard, but it certainly is sending the proper message and does nothing for the heat that’s pooled between your legs in the hours you spent waiting for him. It’s a short trip but long enough to make you feel thoroughly owned.
Papa tosses you onto the bed without fanfare and you flop slightly on the mattress as you struggle to regain your bratty composure. He stands facing you and looks down his nose at you- you’re faintly aware that he’s cracking his knuckles inside of the gloves. Eyebrows tilted down and a slight frown at the edges of his lips make you shudder, but the mirth in his eyes makes it clear that he’s not actually upset with you. You scramble up to a seated position on your knees and jut your lip out at him, hands on your hips.
“All I said was-”
“All you said was disrespect to your Papa. Now, you pay. You know the rules of the Clergy, my Sister. You made the deal with your Papa.” Papa makes a show of tugging off his gloves with his teeth as you shrink back from him on the bed. It’s a game the two of you don’t get to play often, but certainly one that you both enjoy. The hand not at his mouth is palming over the swelling bulge in his pants, and your eyes lock onto it. The pants only seem to have gotten tighter since he ascended- a fact you’re acutely aware of.
“Technically I made the deal with my Cardinal. But how uh- how am I going to pay, daddy?” Despite knowing what you were going to get yourself into, the predatory look in his eye has the low simmer of lust burning in your gut, along with a slight feeling of fear as you continue to push him. “Are you going to punish me like I deserve?”
Papa says nothing, but removes his gloves finger by finger with his teeth, almost relishing in the glide of leather across his skin. Copia discards his gloves behind him with a /thwack/ as they land on the cold stone floor. Slowly he comes forward, putting one knee up onto the bed as his eyes never leave yours. He nods just slightly- just enough for you to gulp a swallow before you scoot back on the bed to give him some room to join you. He finally is fully on the bed with you as he reaches down and draws his undershirt off over his head. Instantly your eyes are glued to his chest, granting yourself a moment to appreciate the freckles that dot his pale skin and the smattering of chest hair that he has. With a flourish, he tosses the white undershirt to join the gloves on the floor.
“Come forward, little one. I won’t hurt you too badly.” Copia rises up onto his knees and motions you forward. “On your stomach I think, yes? Oh, and we can be divested of this. Since blue is such an offensive colour to you.” His hands come forward faster than you thought possible, gripping the cleavage of your shift quickly and tearing it from your body with a loud rip as it splits down the front. He whips it away from you and throws it behind him, leaving you completely exposed to him. He gives a slight smile of approval as he notices that you’ve neglected to wear panties today. At this point, he certainly knows that this was your intention from the start. 
“Yes, daddy.” You slink forward on all fours and lay down in front of him on your stomach, as instructed. Your heart beat is pounding in your throat and you can hear the rush of blood in your eardrums as you lay before him, unsure exactly what was coming next. Underneath you the bed sheets are cool on your skin and provide a welcome relief from the warmth of your desire. 
“It’s Papa.” You gasp as his hand comes to your ass, gripping the muscle before pulling back and slapping you. A soft moan finally drops from your lips as you get the contact you’ve been craving- his hand is soft and warm, as it always is. “Here is what we’re going to do, my dove. I am going to spank, and you are going to count. Can you do that for me?” 
“I think so, Papa.” A wry grin climbs its way across your face as you feel him settle into the dominant role. You had been correct earlier- he needed this. To tempt him further you wiggle your hips slightly, moving your ass enticingly in front of him. A slight intake of breath is all that you hear before his hand comes down hard on your ass and you manage to gasp out, “One!”. Copia’s hand rubs softly where he spanked, soothing the hurt with the soft warmth of his hand as your thighs tremble.
“I think ten sounds amenable, my dear.” Before you can respond his hand flies through the air once more to land on the opposite side of your ass, the /crack/ audible in the otherwise silent chambers. You gasp and manage to eke out the number ‘two’, proud of how steady your voice is holding even though you know you won’t be able to keep it stable for much longer.
The two of you continue like this for the rest of the duration, him spanking and you counting. On the tenth strike your voice breaks and a moan slides through, your thighs trembling with the attempt to keep your hips from grinding down into the bed. You twine your hands into the sheet beneath your fingers, gasping and making small abortive movements with your hips. Papa takes note of your diligence and chuckles darkly, bringing his face close to yours and blowing softly on your ear as he speaks.
“My little ghuleh, if I were to touch you right now, what would I find? Are you slick for me? Do you want your Papa to reach between your legs and touch you?” You grip the bed sheets tightly between your fists and groan, every inch of your body fighting the urge to thrust your hips back into his hand where you can feel it hovering just above your skin. “You’ve been such a good girl so far, do you think you deserve a reward?”
Once you nod into the bedsheets, wriggling and panting softly, you feel his hand lightly rest on your ass. You know better than to spread your legs before he tells you. Everything in your brain has focused on that single point of contact- his warm hand on your ass, slightly stinging from the spanking you’d already received. Finally the tip of his middle finger dips lower and glides just lightly over your lips and you buck, a loud groan falling from your lips as you do. 
“Yes, yes, I know. I know you want this so badly.” Again you only nod, panting open mouthed. Copia drags his index finger over your clit and you tremble, finally letting loose a moan as his middle finger slides slowly inside of you. He continues the slow glide of his finger inside you, grazing your clit with every few thrusts inside. “Does my good girl want more, hm?”
“Yes! God, yes!” Everything inside of you wants to spread your legs wide and beg to be taken thoroughly, but you know to do that would only delay it. Papa loves this particular role play of yours- teasing and edging you and only making you wait longer every time you beg or plead for his cock to be inside of you. The desire for more keeps you in line currently as you dutifully keep your legs together until he tells you otherwise.
“I didn’t quite hear you, pet. What was that?” You moan and grumble into the bed sheets, not quite lifting your head up completely. A small yelp leaves you as his hand cracks down on your ass again, the reddened marks from his hand turning into welts as the minutes ticked by. “I said I couldn’t hear you. Repeat.” 
“Yes! I want more!” If you had any more control over your shame, you may even be embarrassed with how wonton you were in the depths of your lust. Copia ekes another gasp and moan from you as he slides his index finger in beside his middle, starting a small pumping rhythm that keeps you gasping with each delicious slide.
“You want more, what?” You can hear the smile in his voice even as he continues to tease you, his two fingers spreading you open so deliciously. In the back of your mind you know that he’s spreading you so you can take his cock, but you’re only focused on him continuing the sensations. You can almost feel the edge of your climax dangling out of reach- that rubber band inside of you being pulled tighter and tighter but still not quite tight enough to snap and send you careening into pleasure..
“I want more, Papa,” you grit out between your teeth. Any restraint you had disappears as Papa pulls his hand away from you, his fingers sliding out slickly. He brings them to his mouth and curls his tongue lasciviously around them, groaning as he tastes you on them. “God, Papa. Please take me, I’ve been waiting for you for hours!” His eyebrows shoot up at your blatant desire and he grins.
“Fine, pet. I’ll take you.” There’s something dangerous in his tone still and you can’t quite shake the feeling that your punishment still isn’t over. Copia slides back and gets off of the bed, pulling you by your hips roughly the edge. His hand slides up your spine and you shiver as he grips your hair tightly. “You stay just like this for your Papa, yes? Nice and bent over so I can see you. Do not move.” 
“Yes, Papa!” Your feet are flat on the floor so you’re bent at the waist, hand still gripping the bed sheets. Gaining a slight bit of courage you wiggle your hips, knowing that Copia was directly behind you. Doing what, you weren’t sure. You instantly regret your choice when both hands squeeze your ass harshly, making the reddened part of your skin ache. 
“I said stay still.” He pats your ass one more time, softly, before you hear two small thumps. You start to pick up your head only to bury your face in the bed once more when you feel his tongue connect directly with your clit. Copia licks the length of your cunt twice before pulling back and gliding his finger around your entrance. “Papa wants dinner, you see. You’ll have to wait for yours.”
Another moment passes before you feel his tongue again. He presses the flat of his tongue to you, sliding easily between your lips and moaning softly when you do. The vibration only furthers your arousal and you’re suddenly thankful that both of his hands have come to your ass- stabilising and holding you in place for him. Copia sucks your clit lightly into his mouth as his tongue comes out to lathe across it. He pulls back with an audible /pop/ and continues licking the length of you, clearly making a meal of it. 
Finally he pulls back slightly, bringing his hands up to spread your lips for his wandering tongue. He swirls it once, twice, three times around your entrance before wiggling his tongue into you, moaning against you as he hears you cry out. Copia slowly eases his index finger back inside of you, twisting until he finds the spot inside of you that makes you sing so sweetly for him- and sing you do. He coaxes you over the edge of your climax and you cum with a full body shudder and a keen, your pussy gripping his finger inside of you as you do so. 
“Good girl, my little dove. So good.” Copia rises from his knees, grumbling when they crack, and slides his hands up your spine lovingly. Once you’ve come down from your orgasm he urges you forward, nudging you back up onto the bed on all fours. He situates you how he needs you- low on your forearms with your ass, once more, presented to him. “Are you ready for me?” You jerk slightly from oversensitivity when you feel the head of his thick cock probing your entrance. 
“Does it matter?” You have enough wherewithal to continue your game of taunting and teasing the man, swaying your hips once more as he attempts to align himself. 
“No.” With a single thrust he seats himself fully inside of you, groaning at the feeling of your heat around his cock. He offers you a brief moment to get comfortable with his size before he starts moving- long and slow strokes that do nothing for the arousal that’s returned, simmering in your core. “No, ghuleh, it doesn’t matter. This body is mine to use.” You have time to moan and nod your assent before he starts fucking into you with harder strokes, hips snapping against your ass with an audible noise of flesh on flesh. 
There’s no more speaking from either of you as he uses your body for his own pleasure, his strokes getting faster as he devotes himself entirely to it. When you have the chance to rise up onto your elbows and glance back, you’re gifted with the sight of Copia utterly ruined and debauched. There’s traces of your slick still around his mouth and chin, and his face paint is completely destroyed and smeared across his face. His head is tilted back and his jaw is dropped open as he moans and pants, his hands grabbing at you reflexively every time he thrusts into you. 
“Copia… Copia take me.” You moan and drop your head back onto the pillow, squeezing your walls around his cock until his groans deep in his throat. “Take me and show me who owns me. Tell me, daddy.” He utters a string of curses as his hips slam into yours, grinding up as his hands squeeze your ass.
“Come here,” he practically growls at you. His hands leave your ass and come to your shoulders, heaving you up until your back is flat against his chest, his cock still inside of you. Copia brings an arm around your throat, holding you taut against him as he continues thrusting upwards into you. You let out a moan of surprise that turns into a scream of pleasure as his other hand leaves your shoulder, trailing to your clit and rubbing in practiced circles. There’s nothing delicate about his touch- it’s a pure onslaught of pleasure and a clear need to make you cum. 
“Fuck, Copia! You fill me so good.” Your words trail off into a strangled moan as his arm squeezes tighter on your throat. He mumbles in your ear, reminding you of the safe word before continuing, tightening once more. Still he’s thrusting into you, every stroke landing on that small spot inside of you that makes you see stars- the pace that he’s setting leaves little room for deep breaths as he continues to fill you. Every time his hips connect with your ass the sharp sting reminds you of your punishment and makes it so much sweeter.
“Can you cum for me, little dove? Can you cum on your Papa’s cock?” When you moan your assent he leans his head down just enough to bite your neck, shifting his arm away from your throat to instead grip it in his hand. He squeezes the side of your throat just enough that you begin to feel the heady dizziness of deprivation before the finger on your clit seems to double in speed, tapping and swirling around the little nub of pleasure. 
You cum like this, twitching and shuddering in Copia’s arms as he latches his teeth onto your neck, biting and licking the skin under his mouth. He groans deep in your ear as you squeeze on his cock, his own thrusts finally stuttering as he nears his own climax. As you come down from yours he lets go of your neck, push you back forward onto your elbows again. His hands come to either side of your ass, squeezing and spanking you once more as he finally thrusts hard into you. You can feel his cock jerking and pulsing inside of you as he fills you, his hips giving small abortive thrusts as he does so. 
Copia takes a deep breath, leaning over you slightly as he regains his composure. Finally he pulls back from you, leaving you feeling slightly empty and bereft once his cock slides out of you. You flop down onto your stomach with a satisfied hum as you hear Copia busy himself in the bathroom, disposing of the condom and getting a wet wash rag. 
“Roll over, love.” He urges you onto your back, bringing the cloth to your face and wiping the sweat from your brow. He moves it lower gently, washing off your chest and even daubing between your legs lightly before you wave him away, giggling in a sudden burst of embarrassment. Copia laughs himself and goes back to the washroom, presumably rinsing off the ruined papal paint. When he returns, you lift your arms to him and clench your hands several times.
“C’mere. I want my Papa.” Copia barks out a quick laugh and comes over to the bed, stopping at the nightstand. He pulls open the drawer and takes out a small bottle of Tylenol, popping the cap and shaking out three of the capsules into the fall of his hand. He puts the bottle back in the drawer and hands you the capsules, which you swallow dry. Finally he comes to lay beside you, pulling a blanket from the bottom of the bed over the two of you. 
“Your Papa, eh? Not your daddy?” You shake your head and plant a kiss on his cheek, pulling back to swipe your thumb where he missed some of the paint. This was how you liked him the best- clean faced and comfortable. 
“No, just my Papa.” You lapse into silence for a moment as Copia slides his hand down to grab yours, twining his fingers with yours and squeezing. “Did you have a bad day today? Did I guess right?” He chuckles softly and squeezes you against him for a moment, resting his chin on the top of your head and pressing a kiss there.
“Yes, you did. You always seem to know how my day was before I even have a chance to process it myself, you know. Sometimes I wonder if you have spies around the ministry.” You can feel him smile against you as he presses his cheek to the top of your head, giving you another squeeze. A moment passes in silence before he speaks again. “I don’t know what I would do with you, my bird. I would be lost.”
“You probably wouldn’t even be Papa.” You surprise yourself with how chipper your voice sounds and follow up your statement with a high giggle. There was some slight truth to your statement, after all. You had sat with him for many sleepless nights as he studied, and even helped with the Ghouls sometimes. Copia laughs himself before bringing his other hand up to pinch your nose slightly.
“I just punished you for misspeaking to a Papa, do I need to do it again?” The tone of his voice implies that he wouldn’t follow through with the threat but you still can’t help the tingling feeling that the words along send through your body. 
“Mm. Maybe later, Papa.” You pull the blanket farther up your bodies and press yourself close to him, tucking your head into his shoulder and turning onto your side, practically draping yourself across him. “Right now, I’d like nothing more than to sleep. You wore me out.” You stifle a yawn by pressing a kiss to his collarbone. 
“I wore myself out, I think. Still, I have things that need to be done before I can sleep. Will you be alright here on your own? Just for a little while longer?” You nod, alright submitting yourself to the cloying clutches of sleep. Still there’s an acute sense of loss as he slides himself out from under you and replaces the blanket, petting your head softly. “I’ll be in the other room.”
“Okay, Cardinal.” The smile in your voice is evident even to you and you curl in on yourself slightly as you try to restrain your laughter. 
“What did you just say?”
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undead-metalhead · 2 years
Text
Predictions:
>Seestor dies
>Popia dies
>Sunshine ascends as the first female Papa
0 notes
copias-thrall · 4 years
Video
The Siblings Undressing Copia
via ghostenespanol_ in insta
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copias-thrall · 4 years
Text
There’s a New Papa in Town
The whole clergy was buzzing about it. Something had happened during the Ritual in Mexico. Sure, there had been hushed whispers about whether or not The Cardinal would meet the same end as the Emeritus brothers—but when the shaky footage of Papa Nihil had leaked, the Sibling’s dorms had erupted into bedlam.
And then the power had gone out.
*power play; power imbalance*
Ghouls slithered out of the darkness—not the feral but somewhat tame band Ghouls—the ones that still hissed and snarled to communicate and watched each human with hungry eyes. Phones were confiscated, and the Siblings were escorted back to their rooms—locks clicking from the outside—where they lit candles and talked softly to their roommates.
And if some of them though they heard howls and screams in the distance, they convinced each other it was just the wind through the old bones of the Abbey.
The next morning, Siblings awoke to the sounds of keys turning in their locks; they warily emerged into the halls where they were once again escorted like kindergartners to the mess hall (and if anyone noticed a slight dwindle of their numbers, no one said so). Sister Imperator stood at the head, stick straight as usual, flanked by her personal Ghouls.
After everyone had sat down, Imperator raised her hand—a subtle order for silence. When she had everyone’s attention, she spoke—her commanding voice loud enough the fill the hall even without the aid of a mic.
“Good morning, everyone. Last night there were higher than normal winds that knocked out some of our wires. The Ghouls were kind enough to help you back into your rooms for your own safety. You should thank them for their assistance.”
When no one spoke, the Ghouls at her side made “go on” motions, and the hall was briefly filled with the murmurs and mumbles of thanks.
“Very good,” said Sister, her voice clipped. “I’ve been told the electricity should be back on soon, but until then we’ll just have to make due with a cold breakfast.”
No one moved—some Siblings were literally at the edges of their seats—waiting to see if Sister Imperator would talk about It. The steel in her gaze seemed to meet everyone and no one at once. She lifted her chin and clapped twice.
“Chop chop! A power outage will get no one out of their chores or lessons. Breakfast hour still ends promptly at 9am.”
Slowly, the crowd in the hall began to move—quicker when they realized they’d have to fight over the potpourri that was set out for breakfast. Sister Imperator turned to leave, her Ghouls following a step behind, and it wasn’t until she’d reached the doorway that she’d turned her head over her shoulder and said,
“And I expect each and every one of you to be extra diligent in your chores today—Papa will be returning home tomorrow morning.”
She left the room before what she’d said even reached half of the gathered Siblings.
Excited chatter broke out as the game of telephone both amplified and muted the importance of her words. By lunch the rumors were flying, but without power, there was no confirming any of them. Their phones had been returned—all mysteriously without charge.
By dinner, everyone had stories of Copia’s favorites being summoned or taken by Ghouls. Some argued that meant The Cardinal was out of favor while others argued for it. That night, Sister Imperator imposed an early curfew and again had them locked into their rooms—for safety—since the power was still out.
At 6am sharp, the bells chimed out—not just a ringing of 6, but a whole unholy hymn. The Siblings were instructed to put on their ceremonial garbs and meet at the main entrance—some very lucky to get a spot outside, the rest congregating down the main hall. The Siblings found banners and their religious totems all done up in blue and gold—but any whispered speculation was quickly silenced by a sharp hiss and a jab of claw.
At 8am, the congregation saw Sister check her watch, and soon after they heard the low rumbling of a car and tires crunching across stone gravel. Some Siblings bounced on their heels, other clutched each other’s hands, and some swallowed in dread.
The Clergy limo finally pulled into view, and Imperator’s Ghouls rolled out a carpet, fibers blue and trimmed in gold. The door opened, and the band Ghouls emerged, sinuously—their polished masks held high, their uniforms new and still a rich black—to flank either side of the carpet.
Then.
A boot emerged.
Over the boot a hem—beautifully embroidered in golds—fell.
Then two legs came into view and with them a shock of blue vestments.
Aether and Swiss both leaned down, each lending a hand to help—
The Cardinal—
No, a freshly painted Papa Emeritus IV—out of the limo.
Like a butterfly out of a cocoon, Copia emerged, resplendent in his new colors and wearing his new title like a fist of iron. Gasps and sharp intakes of breath blanketed the crowd.
Mountain reverently placed the mitre on Copia’s head, and Copia give him the slightest of nods.
“Ah! Papa. Welcome home,” said Sister Imperator—her tone now laced with an emotion that could have been described as joy.
Copi—no, Papa—spread out his arms. “It is good to be home with my flock.”
When he was met with silence, Imperator said, “Well, is this how you welcome home your new spiritual leader?”
Claws were back jabbing in sides, and the congregation erupted into whistles and cheers—some genuine, some not—as Papa IV gestured with the subtly and grace of a ruler who knows not to waste their energy with grand movements.
Sister Imperator held out her hands, and Papa IV began to make his way down the blue carpet, stopping here and there to place chaste kisses on hands and unbless heads—his Ghouls following in his wake. When Papa IV reached Sister, he clasped her hands in his and leaned forward to kiss each cheek. He murmured something in her ear that became a hotly-debated topic for many meals to come—was it Madre, or was it Mater? Or—as some snorted—had it just been a non-verbal Mm?
Some poor fool—just loud enough to be heard—asked, “But where’s Papa Nihil?”
Dewdrop made a throat-slashing motion before Rain elbowed him.
Papa IV bowed his head, then turned to face his—his—congregation.
“It is with heavy heart I regret to inform you. Our dear Grand Papa has joined the Olde One.” Papa IV pointed a gloved finger to the ground. “This was a tour too many.”
The white noise of many whispers all up once filled the air, and Papa IV sliced his hand in front of him for silence.
“But what is a simple Cardinal to do when his superior insists on playing his solo?” Papa IV shrugged, an echo of his nervous rat persona. “Please, un momento di silenzio for Nihil, per favore.”
The congregation all bowed their heads, startled when Papa IV immediately clapped.
“Come! I have been hearing the beautiful Imperator prepared a welcome feast.”
Papa IV practically glided down the main hall, shaking hands and kissing foreheads. He paid particular attention to his favored—who had seamlessly reintegrated into the crowd and were beaming. They had apparently been tasked by Sister Imperator to carry out the celebration’s plans.
The only surprise came when Papa IV stopped in front of Sister Doreen. Sister Doreen had always been vocal on her disdain for Copia, saying her papal love would always be for Papa III. She’d often make chittering noises behind his back. Now she stood, pale faced, as Papa IV considered her. He held out a gloved hand, fingers now adorned with his ceremonial rings.
A Ghoul flinched as if to make for her, but Sister Doreen faltered only for a second before kneeling and kissing his rings. The whole hall let out an exhale it didn’t know it was holding as Papa IV gave her an unblessing and chucked her under the chin as permission to rise. He’d continued on down the hallway then, only pausing briefly to whisper in Cumulus’ ear.
Most of the crowd had their eyes glued to Papa IV’s form as he paraded away, but a few saw the Ghoulette walk over to Sister Doreen and hand her what looked like a square of cardstock.
The rest of that day was filled with pomp and ceremony over Copia’s ascension to Papa—the power having come back on sometime during his arrival. Papa IV sat contentedly—a Sister in his lap, a Brother feeding him fruit, a gaggle at his feet—as he watched most of the congregation gorge themselves on food and lose themselves in wine.
By midday, most of the Siblings were passed out drunk or in a food coma. Even some of the Abbey Ghouls lazed about, their tails slowly swaying in their stupor. The Band Ghouls had long since disappeared with their chosen Siblings. 
Papa IV—looking a little more lax, a little less bright—dislodged his harem.
“It has been eventful, no? It is time for Papa to rest—no, no: not that kind. Enjoy the rest of the festivities.”
The Siblings pouted, but a well-placed kiss here, a cheek-stroke there, went a long way to easing the disappointment as they watched their new Head saunter off to his chambers. 
His new chambers. The one guarded by two Abbey Ghouls, as befitting his new status.
It was a suite in the Emeritus wing, and either a trusted Sibling or Ghoul had carried over his possessions and his babies. Papa IV disrobed down to his tight suit, and bustled about, searching through drawers and boxes until he found the treats.
“Ah yes, sweet ones. Here you go.” The rats with their twitching noses and quivering whiskers rushed over to him as he opened their cage and let them take the treats off his fingers. “Daddy is celebrating today. You shall partake too, yes?”
Copia hung up his vestments, running his gloved hand along the fine embroidery, and he waited.
It wasn’t long before he heard muffled talking outside his door, and then a sharp rap. Copia put on one of the under robes, and answered the door. Sister Doreen stood there, hands clasped in front of her and looking pensive. Papa IV eyed her, then addressed the Ghouls.
“Yes?”
One of them held up the card—an invitation—for Papa’s inspection.
“Ah, thank you, Ghoul.”
Papa IV took the invitation and pretended to peruse it—but he already knew what it said. Knew it entitled the barer access to him to play.
“All is in order. She may enter.”
Papa IV didn’t even glance at the sister again until the door clicked shut behind him and he was seated in a chintz armchair. He caught and held her gaze—defiant still despite the contrition in her body language.
“So,” he said, “what has you seeking an audience with Papa?”
A glare crossed her face before she schooled it.
“You know why.”
“Do I? I must admit ignorance.”
“You ‘invited’ me here. Your Dark Excellency.”
“Sì. But you have come here why?”
Papa IV stood then, and Doreen flinched before holding her ground. He touched her head.
“Have you come to beg?” He slipped his hand down to grip her jaw. “Or have you come for … something else.”
Now she did glare at him.
“What if I’ve come for nothing, huh?”
Papa IV released her and stepped back.
“Then you have only wasted our time and you may go.” He gestured at the door.
“I may go,” she repeated.
“Sì.”
“And then what?”
“And then nothing. Life passes.” He paused. “But a warning: you continue to mock me at your peril.”
Doreen blanched.
“Ah. Not from me, child. I am unmerciful,” Papa IV spread his arms wide, “but some of your fellow Siblings. They are … fervent in their worship, yes? Best you be keeping your rat noises to yourself, mm?”
Doreen considered him.
“And if I don’t go?”
Papa IV crowded into her space, growling lowly. “If you stay I’m going to bend you over everything in here and you’re going to let me.”
He looked down at her again, his skull accents still stark against the white paint, his colorless eye practically glowing.
“Choose.”
Doreen crumbled to her legs and clutched at his robes.
“Please, P-Papa.”
Papa IV ran his hand through her hair.
“You have made an excellent choice, my child.”
He wrenched her head back.
“Now, up on your knees. You have a lot to atone for.”
“Y-yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, Papa.”
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copias-thrall · 4 years
Text
Popia Ascends, I descend into bed
Ok, all right. All right, ok. Time for bed. I gotta be up in 6hrs.
Much love to the Ghost fandom rn. Such a blast frenetically posting and reblogging content with you guys all night.
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gasolineghuleh · 4 years
Note
hello!! could we have some sfw headcanons about what it's like to sleep with papa i/ii/iii/iv? do any of them snore or steal the covers? or end up cuddling whatever's nearby in their sleep?
Oh my god this is adorable, thank you Nonny.
Papa i:
This Papa sleeps like the dead.
No, really. You wake him up every so often to make sure he’s still alive. Deep, slow breathing and no movements are very convincing that he’s not.
He’s got a huge book shelf above and next to his bed that he’ll pull from to read before bed. His bookshelf above the bed has some running lights built into it so he can comfortably read.
He keeps a lot of blankets and pillows in his room, as a lot of the Siblings come to him for comfort. His bed is super cushioned and soft, and HUGE. Don’t be surprised if one or two siblings are scattered around the room sleeping. It’s just really cozy around i.
If you wake up and he’s not near you anymore, check the garden. Sometimes when i can’t sleep he’ll tend to the night garden that he has outside his chambers.
Papa ii:
He sleeps pretty still, on his back. It’s obvious that he’s pretty comfortable like this, and it makes him act as a pretty good body pillow to you. If you use him as once, he’ll huff out a sigh and drape an arm over you, warning “don’t get comfortable”. You do anyway. He does nothing about it.
One or two blankets, but not overkill. They’re plushy and warm, filled with goose down. They’re just enough to be comfortable and warm, but not overwhelmingly cushy like his brothers.
His pillows are in black satin pillowcases because they’re “good his complexion”. He won’t gripe if you bring your own though.
Absolutely not a blanket hog at all. It’s almost like he doesn’t move when he sleeps. Hibernates is probably a better word.
Papa iii:
Cuddly mother fucker. If there’s nothing in the bed that he can actually cuddle (you or a stuffed animal), he’ll ball up a pillow in his sleep and hold it.
His bed is tall and large, covered with purple silk sheets and a large black duvet that’s hardly ever made properly. If his bed is neatly made, it was the Ghouls who did it for him.
Loves cuddling, but he’s an absolute cover hog. He’s the type to roll all the way over and just *yoink* the sheets from you.
Murmurs a little bit in his sleep and shifts a lot, but you can never really make out the words of what he’s saying. Is it Latin? Demonic? Who knows, it’s fucking cute though.
If you’re not there, he’ll splay out on the bed like an overgrown moose. If you ARE there, he’ll splay out on the bed like an overgrown moose. 
Papa iv:
His bed is large, but it’s half books with bookmarks shoved into them.
He stuck with the red bedroom after ascending, since it suits him so well. His bed sheets are a striking colour of red with a large black duvet, similar to iii.
His rat cages are across the room from his bed. He likes to talk to them before he sleeps, and make sure that they’re doing well.
When sleeping with Popia, he favors the spooning position. He’ll tuck you tight to his chest and press little kisses to the top of your head.
He moves a little bit in his sleep, but nothing that would bother you or steal the covers from you like iii.
He talks! He’ll whisper or mutter in his sleep, and it’s usually understandable. Mentioning this to him gets you nothing more than a flapping hand and a “feh” of dismissal.
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gasolineghuleh · 4 years
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what about a sister of sin purposely distracting popia while he's trying to write his sermon? he tries not to notice her subtly shifting her habit to reveal more of her thighs but he can't miss the glimpse of that lacy lingerie underneath it
Ooooh, hello to one of my favourite followers! How are you, dear? Have some teasing Popia, as a gift.
**
“Beati qui ovis ad occisionem…” The scratching of Papa’s pen stops momentarily as he looks up at you, still seated on the chair across from his desk. “Sister, I trust you understand what ‘silent repentance’ means, correct?” 
“Yes, Papa.” You shift slightly on the chair, your bruised bottom making its protests known. The spanking you had received from Sister Imperator earlier for speaking out of turn had set a low fire burning in your belly. Every time you move you remember the delicious sounds you had made which only serves to make the burning worse.
“Then sit quietly and stop rocking. You’re making it difficult for me to get my work done. Sister already gave you the physical penance?” Papa leans forward towards you slightly, tapping his pen on his lush lower lip. Since he had ascended to the papacy, the punishments for speaking out of turn had been reinstated. They weren’t terrible punishments, but it was usually enough to keep the chapel quiet during prayers.
“Yes, Papa. She gave me the recommended five.” You readjusted yourself just slightly, crossing one leg over the other.
“Good. I hope you’re comfortable sitting like that. If you move again, there will be another five waiting for you in the Imperator's office.” Papa lowers his eyes back to his work and continues crafting his sermon for tomorrow morning. It’s only been a minute or so, but you’re feeling the urge to move. Your hand slooooowly creeps towards the hem of your habit, shifting it up your thigh just slightly. The pen scratching on the paper and Papa’s mumbling to himself drowns out any sound that the cloth may make as it moves. 
You cough slightly and his gaze flicks to you. Papa’s one white eye seems to stare into your soul, searching for if the cough was voluntarily or not. You smile back at him, the perfect picture of unholy innocence. He gives you a tentative half smile and goes back to his papers. Your habit rises a little bit more, exposing the lacy top of your stockings, attached to their garter. Another cough.
“Sister, would you like a glass of water?” Papa asks tersely, not looking up from his papers this time. At your hum of agreement he rises, crosses to his serving cart and pours you a glass of water from a decorated decanter. He hands it to you and sits back behind his desk, pausing when he sees your now highly revealed leg. He arches a brow, shakes himself, and goes back to his papers.
You bring your habit slightly higher as you sip quietly. When you clear your throat once more to indicate the empty water glass, Papa makes a startled noise. The habit has now been raised enough to offer the antipope a small peek of your black lace panties and your garter belt attached to the black stockings. He opens his mouth as if to speak and closes it. He finally tries again.
“Sister, perhaps you could fix your habit? I can see…” he trails off.
“You can see what, Papa?” You deliberately spread your leg another inch or so, affording him a clear view of the crotch of your panties. A swell of pride rises in your chest when you see him flush slightly under his papal paint.
“It’s nothing. You’re dismissed.” Papa waves his hand at you, attempting to busy himself with his work again, but clearly flustered.
“But Papa, I have another hour left of my silent penance!” You attempt a sound of innocence, but it comes off as knowing and teasing. His leg is bouncing under his desk and the flush is still deepening.
“Sister...your punishment is over. You may leave.” You sigh, slightly disappointed, and rise to leave affording him with one more glance at your lace-covered ass. “But do come back, should you ever feel the need to repent.”
A sly wink tossed over your shoulder and a flick of your habit is the last thing that Papa sees as you click the door shut behind you. Visit later, you shall.
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