Hello everyone! I just wanted to let you all know that I've decided to post my writing on my main @twistedandcruel from now on!
I realized I prefer to keep everything in one place, as I feel like it makes it easier to find stuff and clearer for anyone else. The fics that I've already posted here will stay here, but new stuff will go there from now on :)
Werewolf!Copia fic is up on ao3!! You can also read it below the cut. Hope you enjoy!!
MDNI!! 18+ ONLY!! - dividers by @/cafekitsune <3
Summary: It's Copia's first rut with you as his partner. You're in for quite the night.
Tags: pwp, lemon, POV second person, no use of y/n, blow jobs, werewolf AU, werewolf!Copia, monsterfucking, knotting, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, dirty talk, oral sex, outdoor sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, size difference, stomach distension, overstimulation, gender-neutral reader, scent marking, established relationship
Word Count: 2.7k
Author's Note: Please do not repost or use for AI training. I will explode you with my mind if you do.
ao3 link here!
"I want it, Copia," you whispered to him in the dim light of his bedroom.
The moon shone among the stars and through the window near his humble bed. You could see that it was nearly full, likely to reach its peak the next night. Copia was full of anxiety with the knowledge that it would be his first rut with you as his partner. He'd imprinted on you months before, when you first came to the Ministry. There was just something about you he found alluring. Something about your essence that pulled him to you. From the way your smile made your eyes crinkle to how your ass filled out that pair of pants you wore when your cassock was dirty. Your laugh, your voice, how you carried yourself. Just...you.
He was a little slow to act on his feelings but when he did, you couldn’t have been more grateful. Since he’d told you about his condition, Copia had warned you about his rut and how intense it could be. Disturbing, even. It was to him at least.
Although he knew it was meant to be this way, Copia was still terrified at the thought of going into a rut in your presence. He knew you were attracted to him in his werewolf form, all thick muscle and monstrous size, but a rut was different. It was unexplainable to anyone who wasn't like him.
You rubbed your thumbs against his cheeks. "It's going to be okay. You have nothing to worry about, sweetie."
Copia shifted. Arousal and anxiety, arguably two sides of the same adrenaline-fueled coin, flooding his body. The image of you bent over taking his cock in werewolf form left him with mixed emotions. "I don't think I could forgive myself if I hurt you. It could all go so wrong," he lamented.
You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead where deep wrinkles sat. "Just let me take care of you."
Copia knew he could say no if he really wanted to. The only thing standing between the sweet pleasure of having you while he towered above was self-doubt. He took a breath. "Okie dokie," he whispered to you.
And so, the plan was still in motion for the full moon the next night.
----
You stood facing the thicket of woods behind the Ministry. The delicate moonlight was all that hinted at a treeline ahead of you. Passing clouds plunged you back into the suffocating darkness. You had no choice but to wait shivering in the cold autumn air. The gusts of wind could have been mistaken for weary howling. But you knew better. You knew a howling beast when you heard it.
Copia preferred to transform in private. "It's grotesque, tesoro. I'd rather not traumatize you."
You rolled your eyes to yourself at the memory. It couldn't possibly be that bad but you respected his wishes. You tightened your coat around yourself trying to maintain as much warmth as possible while you waited. Each minute dragged on and you increasingly felt like prey separated from its herd and making the unwise decision of staying alone.
"Hello," you heard Copia's soft voice in your head. Imprinting had given you a telepathic connection when he was in wolf form. Still, the graze of his warm maw against the curve of your freezing neck startled you. You turned around and took in his enormous form: Copia's head could easily rest on top of yours, his shoulders level with your eyes. His fur was difficult to see in the night, but you recalled it was ruddy brown with some gray in his muzzle. His eyes took your attention away from the rest of him. Still one bright white, a lantern in the darkness, and the other a soothing green that betrayed the danger he posed in this form. You never got enough of looking at them. They were the only physical signs that this was Copia. Had it not been for the voice in your head and those enchanting eyes, you would likely run the other way if you saw this beast in the woods. Instead, you felt adoration and a sprinkle of lust knowing what you were going to get up to.
Copia rubbed against your hands as you pet him. He licked your palm, eliciting a shudder from you. His breathing picked up after scenting you for a few moments. A low growl emanated from his chest. "Go," Copia urged you in your mind.
Your eyes widened before taking a few steps back, the reality of the situation hitting you like a truck, and running as fast as your legs could take you into the pitch-black forest. The rhythmic crunch of branches and thumping on the ground told you he wasn't far behind. Heart pounding and cold air stinging your lungs, you sprinted over fallen trunks and through tall grass without a destination in mind. You just wanted to run as far as possible to soothe his need to hunt his prey, to hunt his mate underneath the full moon.
You came to a stop by an area of thick grass and a tree that seemed to touch the stars. Nothing but the occasional chirping of crickets came into your ears. Your eyes had adjusted to the night, but it was still difficult to make out anything. A beast Copia's size would surely stand out, though. Your pulse slowed down and you finally felt like you could breathe, but this was part of the game and you knew it. Copia certainly knew it, too.
A deep howl echoed around you. Your head was on a swivel, looking this way and that for Copia. For a moment, you considered running again but no matter where you went, he'd find you. He always would.
A sudden growl in your ear snapped you from your contemplation with a scream. "You're not very good at this, doll. I was hoping for a challenge," he purred. The sound of his voice sent shivers throughout your body and took your breath away in the best way possible. Being tied together this way made you feel a level of intimacy you never thought possible.
"Copia, please-"
"Begging already?"
Your legs quaked and you felt heat spread between them. All you managed was a nod.
"Say it, baby. Tell me what you want." Copia snuffled in your ear and dragged his tongue down your neck. He whined, desperate to feel and taste you.
"F-fuck me. Take me here."
He growled and nudged you down to your knees with one of his huge paws. Still on all fours, he hooked your coat collar with his teeth and dragged you forward, then flipped you over so that you lay flat on your back. It was then that he stood on his hind legs, easily eight feet tall. Copia howled again to the sky, straight out of every werewolf movie you'd ever seen. As you looked over his giant form, your heart threatening to break out of its cage in your chest, you saw your prize standing proud between his thighs: a dark red cock with a knot beginning to swell at the base just above a pair of fur-covered balls. A line of milky fluid leaked down the thick vein on the side of his shaft.
You shook like a leaf. Heat pooled in your stomach and your sex pulsed with need. Copia crawled over you; His pupils swallowed the color in his irises, drool dribbled from his maw and his huffing emitted soft clouds into the night air. Copia's muscles twitched and his eyes shifted as he scanned your body, willing and pliant under him.
You ran your fingers through the fur of his muzzle. "It's okay. Let it out."
A growl rumbled from his chest and his eyes narrowed. Goosebumps littered your skin as your clothes were shredded between his claws. Even though you knew it was coming, instincts took over as you screamed. Having not said or thought your safeword, Copia continued ravaging the remains of your clothing until you lay bare beneath him on the forest floor. He pushed your legs apart, his claws poking at the delicate skin of your thighs, and lapped hungrily between them. No matter what shape he took, Copia took pleasure from giving it to you.
There was no finesse with the way he tasted you. He was all rough tongue and slobber but the pure carnality of it spurred you on further. Copia whined and whimpered into you as you bucked against his lips. “So ready for me, doll. Taste so fucking good. Always,” his voice slid into your mind like his tongue against your most sensitive spots.
Your moans traveled through the woods, echoing deep into the darkness. “More, Copia! Please, give me more! W-wanna taste you, too. Fuck, baby!” The tip of his tongue dipped inside your hole. His soft fur tickled your palms while you gripped handfuls of it.
Copia snarled against your heated flesh. He wanted to sink his teeth into you and tear you apart. But not without fucking you into the ground first. No, not without that. He sat back on his haunches with his back against a tree. The furry legs of his wolf form spread to show off his leaking cock again. Somehow, it was an angrier red than before. A steady stream of precum flowed from it. The top of the knot was glazed in the substance. You stood and approached him, heart racing and hands shaking, as instinct fought against desire. Copia’s dick was even more intimidating up close: It was around nine inches and you found that you couldn’t fully close your hand around it. If he hadn’t gifted you several oversized dildos to practice with, you wouldn’t think it possible to fit the real thing inside. You leaned in and licked his cock from balls to sopping tip. You tongued the slit, his musky scent and salty taste overcoming your senses. He whined as you sucked the tip and moved down inch by inch until your jaw was at its limit.
“T-tesoro, I’m gonna cum!” Copia cried out in your mind. You grinded against your free hand, moaning around him while hot cum flowed down your throat. With each swallow around his throbbing cock, he grunted and moaned. He filled your mouth with too much to gulp down; Strings of cum dripped from your tongue and lips back onto Copia’s slick hardness.
“Still hard,” you thought.
Copia’s ears drooped and he turned his face away.
“What is it, love?”
He whimpered. “It stays hard for a while. Rut and all.” His cock twitched. Droplets of more precum slid down his shaft. He was ready to go again. It looked neglected despite you just letting him cum down your tight throat.
You pressed your face to his muzzle. “Then take more from me. I can handle it.” Moving closer into his space, you took hold of his dick and traced your hole with the fiery tip. It was then that all restraint was lost. Copia grabbed your waist and pushed inside of you. The stinging pleasure made you shout to the heavens. “Copia!” His cum-coated dick stretched your prepped entrance with ease. Copia’s claws pricked against your skin. You felt him stop at his growing knot. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you begged.
He snarled. More drool fell from his maw. He pulled you up until just his tip was inside you and slammed you back down. An animalistic groan came from your throat, one that could match Copia’s own. He set a bruising pace sliding you up and down his shaft like you were nothing more than a cocksleeve for him to fill. He grunted as he fucked up into your now-sloppy hole. The wetness of his cock sliding in and out of you made the most vulgar noises. It was demeaning to feel like you were just a hole to fuck and that made your sex have a heartbeat of its own.
“Keep going! Shit, Copia! That’s so-ah!-so good!” He gripped you even tighter. His claws drew droplets of blood from your sides. Copia stood with both his hands wrapped around your torso, holding you perpendicular to his body, and continued to fuck into you. You clenched around him at the reminder of his sheer size and strength. You dug your fingers into the fur on his paws, hanging on for dear life, as you came around him holding you like a ragdoll.
Copia howled, his cock pulsing and releasing impossibly more cum inside you. Fucking you through your simultaneous orgasms, you felt a sudden pulling of your hole. “Oh, fuck! So fucking big,” you cried out. Your eyelids fluttered at the sensation; An additional drag against your walls and a wet pop pushed you to the beginning of overstimulation. His balls slapped against you, tightening and relaxing in a rhythm, with each thrust he took to keep fucking his seed that just kept squirting inside you deeper. Knotting you. Claiming you. Strands of cum overflowed down your body and desecrated the forest floor. Copia panted above you, hands still digging into your sides. Spit trickled from his mouth. He was hungry and wild like, well, like an animal in heat.
“Need...need to breed you. Make you mine, doll.” He kneeled with you in his arms until you were settled beneath him again. You moved as one oddly-silhoutted creature in the night with his knot keeping your bodies connected. He managed to flip you onto your stomach. You pushed yourself up onto all fours, his cock pushing against you at a deeper angle. Copia’s jaws opened as he cried to the heavens in the new position. He started to pound into you again. “Gonna fill you up! Make you full of my seed. G-gonna get you pregnant!”
You’d never asked if he wanted kids, nor had he asked you. You weren’t sure if the two of you could even have children. But the idea of him keeping you full of his hot cum so you’d keep getting pregnant was so thrilling. The thought was irresistible in that moment. Everyone would know from your swelling belly that you were carrying his young; Everyone would know you belonged to Copia and only Copia.
“Yes! Please! Fuck, breed me. Get that cum deep inside me. Give me your babies! I--Oh! Let me make you a daddy!” You yelled as you felt his cock hit you so deep you saw the bump it created out of your stomach when you glanced downward at your body. Your fingers dug into the weeds beneath you and you screwed your eyes shut as your brows pinched upward. Your hole clenched even tighter around him.
Copia howled as he came a third time inside you, still just as much thick cum as the first two orgasms. A sharp pain shot through the back of your neck. You screamed, full-on this time. Copia bit your nape as his pelvis slammed against yours. His knot tugged and pushed but did not come loose. It made you feel heavy, like you were floating; The arousal flooded your entire being and you felt pure euphoria. Ecstasy made your skin tingle. Your legs trembled and burned while Copia’s cock continued to pulse inside you. More of his cum dripped out of your sloppy hole and flowed down your thighs. It left behind white streaks that glistened in the pale moonlight. You collapsed, your face meeting the chilled ground. A sigh of relief escaped your tired lungs. Your muscles ached and your head pounded. But, fuck, did it feel good.
Copia’s arms wobbled, trying not to crush his beloved. His hovering presence and his hot breath felt like a warm blanket on you. It was then you remembered that underneath the untamed energy, he was still your Copia. He licked against the blood trickling from the angry flesh he bit. It would scab over and you’d heal with ease, but it made him consider truly biting you and leaving behind a permanent branding. He nuzzled into your body and enveloped you in his shaggy fur. The heat of his knotted cock inside your hole warmed you even further. The two of you stayed like this and waited for his cock to finally soften, only to go again and keep satisfying his need to breed.
Hope you liked it!! Reblogs are appreciated if you enjoyed and want to share. Lmk what you think. Until next time, take care of yourself and remember you're loved!! <3
Explicit 18+ MDNI - a lil subby top!frater x f!reader. Premature ejaculation, soft degradation/teasing. (Sorry I had no idea what to tag this tbh) He's had a long day and needs you. ~1k
If the closing of your bedroom door hadn't woken you, Copia's hands sliding around your waist under your shirt would have. You've barely wiped the sleep from your eyes before he's pressed against you, naked, and mouthing at your neck.
The room is pitch black. It's the middle of the night, or maybe the very early hours of the morning and you try to ask how on earth he got stuck in his office this late but, barely awake, you can't quite get any words out. His insistent hands soon push any other thoughts away. You don't need to look at him to know what he needs. Him coming home this late and this needy tells you everything you need to know.
You let your body relax into his, almost going limp and allowing him to ravish you with his touch. It's not long before he's positioning your legs apart and working diligently over your clit to get you ready for him.
"Long day?"
He only nods, focused too much on needing you to speak. His fingers are rough but not purposefully so and he's already shamelessly rubbing himself against your ass with pathetically little restraint. Once he feels your arousal coating his fingers, he immediately enters you with two fingers, making you both gasp.
"Been thinking about this all day," he manages to whisper as he nestles even closer.
You widen your legs, planting a foot on the bed and leaning back into him, displaying yourself and rocking on his digits. It's enough to make him stop and admire the view but only for a moment. His mouth attacking yours takes you by surprise and, soon enough, you're both attempting to undress you without leaving the other's lips. As soon as your pyjamas are off, he climbs over you and firmly grabs your legs to wrap them around his waist.
Looking up at him you see hunger, but also the exhaustion in his eyes. A sadness and a search for comfort in you. You push the hair out of his face and pull him back to your lips, both of you moaning as your tongues entwine.
"Maybe you'd get home earlier if you weren't so distracted," you whisper as you break apart, and Copia nods again before descending over your chest. "Been too hard to concentrate again, hm?"
He can only hum, his mouth occupied by licking and suckling at your breasts as he gyrates over your body which only spreads the slick between your thighs.
"So needy. So desperate, aren't you?" Another nod, another whimper. Your teasing tone spreads a shamed pink across his skin but it doesn't stop him from stroking his cock and positioning himself to enter you. "Poor baby."
Copia sinks forward with a grateful sigh, a spasming shudder spreading from his hips up through his torso and along his shoulders, snapping his head back. With his mouth agape and eyes fluttering, he thrusts into your tight heat with a sob of relief. You allow your own back to bend, arching up to him as he bottoms out as you immediately begin to pulse around him. You grab a fistful of hair and encourage him to move and he responds embarrassingly enthusiastically, filling the air with breathy gasps each time he snaps forwards.
"So pretty like this," you manage between gasps of your own, with a soothing but slightly patronising tone. "Mmmm, that's it."
He doesn't look at you. Instead he cranes his neck, watching as his cock disappears inside you whenever he can drag himself away from scattering kisses over your chest between helplessly lust-filled cries.
"Been thinking about this instead of working? Touching yourself under your desk?"
His nod is furious and the avoidance of your gaze is obvious, but it only spurs him on. If you could see in the dark you would see his cheeks now turn a deep, blushing red. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, bouncing his hips so erratically he never hits the same spot inside you twice.
"Can't even make it a few hours before giving in to your thoughts, can you, Frater?"
A pained groan is muffled in your hair and you clench in response, almost gripping his cock in place. But he continues to stretch you open and you feel wetness leak out of you each time he pulls back, only to buck into you even harder.
"Not going to last long though, are you? I can feel it, already so close."
He props himself up with a hand beside your head on the pillow and rests his head against yours, thrusting with a renewed vigour as you continue to tease and belittle him. Although, your own speech begins to break apart as you feel your own climax building.
"Look at you, barely holding it together. Got yourself so hot thinking all sorts of filthy things all day, didn't you? And now it's going to be over so quickly."
"S-sorry, amore, I just can't—" he almost chokes on his words. "Can't help myself."
"Oh, I know," you coo with a biting undertone. "Still just a pathetic little pervert aren't you, Frater?"
"You feel— you feel too g— ah, cazzo!"
He stutters as he spills inside you with a faltering, shaky moan. Eyes closed and head tossed back until his shivering, jolting body stills besides the heavy breaths fighting out of his chest. When he finally looks down at you again, he looks apologetic and grateful.
"Feel better?" You grin and stroke the side of his face.
"Much. Thank you, amore mio." He kisses you firmly. "I— "
"Will wake me up tomorrow before you leave and make it up to me?"
He stares for a moment, eyes-wide and expressionless, before chuckling and kissing you on the lips, then the forehead. "Of course."
He curls up next to you, satisfied and calm, ready to fall into a peaceful sleep. You soon join him, a lazy smile creeping over your face, also satisfied at a job well done and looking forward to your reward as soon as you're awake in the morning.
5 Tiny Writing Tips That Aren’t Talked About Enough (but work for me)
These are some lowkey underrated tips I’ve seen floating around writing communities — the kind that don’t get flashy attention but seriously changed how I write.
1. Put “he/she/they” at the start of the sentence less often.
Try switching up your sentence rhythm. Instead of
“She walked to the window,”
try
“The window creaked open under her touch.”
Keeps it fresh and stops the paragraph from sounding like a checklist.
2. Don’t describe everything — describe what matters.
Instead of listing every detail in a room, pick 2–3 objects that say something.
“A half-drunk mug of tea and a knife on the table”
sets a way stronger tone than
“There was a wooden table, two chairs, and a shelf.”
3. Use beats instead of dialogue tags sometimes.
Instead of:
"I'm fine," she said.
Try:
"I'm fine." She wiped her hands on her skirt.
It helps shows emotion, and movement.
4. Write your first draft like no one will ever read it.
No pressure. No perfection. Just vibes. The point of draft one is to exist. Let it be messy and weird — future you will thank you for at least something to edit.
5. When stuck, ask: “What’s the most fun thing that could happen next?”
Not logical. Not realistic. FUN. It doesn’t have to stay — but chasing excitement can blast through writer’s block and give you ideas you actually want to write.
What’s a tip that unexpectedly helped with your writing? Let me know!! 🍒
“I… don’t know what to do,” you confess to them, staring at the ground as Cumulus and Cirrus share a look. “i’ve never been with a woman before.”
it had taken you some time to work up the courage to admit that to them, afraid that it would drive the girls away after they’d taken an interest in you. Cirrus laughs, her voice high and light, and you don’t get the feeling that she’s laughing at you— more like she’s just amused by the situation, amused that she and Cumulus had picked the one sister of sin in the Ministry who hadn’t explored the same sex.
“that’s okay,” she says, reaching out to tuck her fingers underneath your chin. she raises your gaze until you’re looking her in the eye, a blush settling over your features as you see the lascivious grin written across her face.
“we’re excellent teachers,” Cumulus adds, stepping forward to wrap her arm around your waist. you’re guided gently backwards, towards the large nest in the middle of their rooms. you feel the softness of the blankets hit you around mid-knee, but she doesn’t stop— she steps forward until you’re bent backwards over the sheets, relaxing back against the pillows as you look up at the pair of them.
as one, they take in the sight of you in their bed and seem satisfied. Cirrus clambers into the nest beside you, pressing against your side as Cumulus busies herself with a few drawers at the other end of the room, pulling out things you can’t see. but you can’t concern yourself with her, not when there’s a ghoulette right next to you demanding your attention.
“lets start with your shirt. do you want to take it off or should I undress you? which would be more comfortable for you?”
you pause, thinking about Cirrus’ hands on you, guiding your shirt over your head. your heart skips a beat.
“…i’d like it if you did it,” you say, blushing as red as a lobster. she smiles at you, cooing softly.
“of course, sweet thing. look at you, all red for me already. I wonder what colors you’ll turn as I expose more and more of you, hm?”
she reaches out to grab the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head, your arms going up into the air to help her along. when she’s got it over your head, she tosses it to the side, eyes drinking in the sight of you with your bra.
at least you’d thought to wear a nice one to meet with Cirrus and Cumulus— it’s black lace and red satin, far sexier than you’d usually wear. she gives a low whistle and Cumulus looks up from what she’s doing to echo the sound.
“you really are perfect,” Cirrus tells you. “you won’t have to worry about a thing. we’ll guide you the whole way.”
You lock Copia in the living room for a little bit when the mailman arrives that morning. Seeing as he hasn’t been caged yet you don’t want to risk any further sudden snaps, and you’re able to get the package in with surprising ease. When you open the door with your hip you find him staring at the TV, grumpily, his favourite hobby of harassing the postal worker interrupted. His gaze is dragged to the box you hold.
“What have you got there?” he asks, trying not to seem interested as you open it up.
“It’s something for you, actually,” you say softly, heart rate spiking when you see the chastity device. His eyes go wide but his tail gives a single wag when you pull the item free.
“I… ah… oh,” he says. The impact is instantaneous and you can see his sweatpants tighten a little, which is good - this only works if you both consent to it. If you both enjoy it.
“What’s that?” he tries to play innocent but there is no hiding what you have. You incline your head to the side.
“Something to stop you being a naughty boy,” you hum, and he whines in a mix of torture and pleasure. “Present.”
The last part is an order from a human, not a request from his lover. Copia rolls onto his back, showing you his soft tummy and slightly twitching cock as he pulls up his shirt and down his slacks. It’s an easy manoeuvre to slip the cage onto his dick when it’s softened enough. You click it into place, lock it, and place the key on a chain around your neck.
Copia whines as you scratch his hairy stomach in a gesture of affection. He yips - puppyboys really like belly rubs.
“There we go, puppy. Can you be a good boy for me?”
“Yes, I can be,” he agrees, cage twitching as his poor cock tries to get hard and fails.
“Do you like that only I can tell you when you can cum?”
Tears of overstimulation make his eyelashes wet, but he nods in submission. You smile.
“Put yourself together, then. We’re going out.”
“We are?”
“We’re going to see Marie and Tobias again.”
He pouts but doesn’t growl, which suggests to you that the cage is already working its magic, and he comes willingly when the two of you head to the park. Marie was very gracious in agreeing to help you test out the effectiveness of your new device, and also agreed it would be good for Tobias to be around an older puppyboy to learn how to ground himself.
The two of them are waiting by the pond, where Tobias is attempting to chase the ducks good-naturedly. Marie glances up from her book and greets you with an embrace when she spots you.
“Hi, honey, I’m so glad you made it! And hello Copia, it’s good to see you again.”
“Hello Marie,” he greets with a polite nod. Tobias looks cautious as he approaches, but Copia extends a friendly hand towards him. “Tobias. I am sorry about how I, eh, treated you last time.”
He seems sincere. Tobias looks to Marie for confirmation and, when met with a nod, takes Copia’s hand in his.
“It’s okay. I get protective of Marie like you get protective of your human,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Copia flushes, perhaps embarrassed at Tobias’s frankness or his own earlier behaviour, but it seems that the hatchet had been buried.
“Would you like to try and get ducks with me? They’re really fast so it’s pretty hard. I’ve only done it once ever but Marie made me let it go.”
“Ah, I am okay, thank you. I am past my duck harassing days. You go and have fun though,” Copia says kindly. Tobias runs off and Copia sits on the end of the bench and pulls out a book of sudokus instead, shaking his head in bewildered fondness.
Copia keeps himself busy with his puzzles as you and Marie catch up properly. She seems to be doing really well with Tobias, he’s good company for her and they’ve clearly bonded quite quickly. Her active lifestyle is more suited to a younger puppyboy and you’re so glad she’s found a connection with someone so devoted to her - it’s very sweet to see the way Tobias will trot back up now and then to show everyone a new stick he’s found.
“Can I keep this?” he asks Marie, who rolls her eyes but smiles.
“Baby, you have lots of sticks at home. If you take this one, you gotta get rid of one of the others.”
He pouts but acquiesces. It’s cute to see how he is totally wrapped around her little finger. It’s not entirely dissimilar to you and Copia.
On that note, your puppyboy is perfectly behaved all afternoon. He puts up with Tobias’s antics and eventually gives in and goes for a walk around the lake with him. It melts your heart to see Tobias talking to him so excitedly, bouncing around his newfound friend with such enthusiasm that his ears bob.
“I told you caging works,” Marie says with a knowing grin. You chuckle.
“You were right. Thank you so much, Marie, you’re a lifesaver.”
She chuckles and bumps against you with her shoulder playfully.
“Puppyboys can be a lot of work, but aren’t they so worth it?” she sighs, dreamily. You look across the lake to see that Tobias has waded into the water to go after a moorhen. Copia is attempting to join in from the bank so he doesn’t get wet, their tails wagging enthusiastically. You go awwww out loud.
“They sure are.”
Copia is a bit worn out by the time you leave, but seems to be happy, too.
“What did you think?” you ask him gently. He chuckles, cheeks rosy from exertion.
“Marie is kind… and Tobias is not so bad. Engergetic, but not so bad.”
“So the cage helped?” you drop your voice low. His face goes even redder.
“Sì. Yes. It eh, grounded me, I think. Thank you.” he looks like he might combust. It lights a fire between your legs.
“You were so well behaved, puppy. We’ll take it off when we get in and I’ll show you what good boys deserve.”
He moans.
And you do. The second the front door closes behind you, Copia’s mouth is on yours. You kiss enthusiastically, his tongue hot and wet against yours. It takes a moment for you to push him off long enough to free the key, then guide him to the sofa and pull down his slacks.
“Good boy, lovely boy. So obedient for me,” you tell him, undoing the tiny lock and releasing his cock. You immediately start to stroke it and he fully hardens in your palm, head lolling back in pleasure.
“Oh… oh, amore mio, you are… this is…”
“Is it a lot, puppy?”
He nods. You can’t imagine how relieving this must be after an afternoon of being locked away. Your hand speeds up and you swipe your thumb across his ruddy skin, gently laughing at the way he whines when you play with his sensitive slit. Pre runs down his length and soaks his balls and boxers, and he grips the sofa to steady himself.
“What do you want, Copia? Your reward for being so good?”
“Please… m-mouth…” he manages, eyes pleading. So you do. You drop down and take his tip between your lips, tonguing around his head, and it doesn’t take much for him to lose control.
“I’m… I’m gonna…”
You keep going as a sign of consent. He cums in hot streams down your throat and you make a show of swallowing which has him whining in joy. You mouth at the softening tip and then reach up to kiss him, letting him enjoy the dregs of his orgasm on your tongue.
“So lucky… I’m so lucky that you take such good care of me, amore mio…” he whispers. You think you’re pretty lucky, too.
some people think writers are so eloquent and good with words, but the reality is that we can sit there with our fingers on the keyboard going, “what’s the word for non-sunlight lighting? Like, fake lighting?” and for ten minutes, all our brain will supply is “unofficial”, and we know that’s not the right word, but it’s the only word we can come up with…until finally it’s like our face got smashed into a brick wall and we remember the word we want is “artificial”.
t. trick or treat for secondo ahain pretty pleaseee i want to kiss his stupid face slash prank his stupid face
heads!
-
“kiss attack!” you cry before pouncing into Secondo’s lap. his office chair goes skidding across the floor under your weight, smoking into the back wall, but neither of you are paying much attention; you’re too preoccupied by the dozens upon dozens of small pecks you’re currently peppering the man’s face with.
his hands settle on your waist, pulling you close to him even as he tries in vain to pull his face away from your reach. Secondo laughs, a deep, gravely sound that reverberates through your body. his paint doesn’t taste the best on your lips and tongue but you don’t mind it so much— you’re used to such things by now as the partner of an Emeritus brother.
finally he fights to the surface under the onslaught, one of his palms coming up to cup your cheek. he guides you gently backwards, ending the assault. his eyes crinkle in a smile as he looks up at you, thumb rubbing small circles into your skin.
“to what do I owe the pleasure, my dove?”
you grin down at him.
“nothing in particular. you’ve just been working for a while.”
“and you wanted attention, I see,” he hums. “I may have to return the favor.”
Copia stops sleeping next to your bed and starts sleeping in it and, oh! It is his favourite thing. How he loves to start each morning curled protectively around you, knowing that he can keep you safe from the world. He wakes with his cock hard and leaking most days just because such close proximity to you sets him aflame, but the two of you rut it out in bed together and he gets to go around carrying the scent of your orgasm for the rest of the day.
He thinks he might strain his tail soon, he simply can’t stop wagging it.
But, he hasn’t fucked you yet. The idea of it is simply overwhelming to him. If he knew how it felt to be inside you, to be encased in your heat and hugged tight by it, he’s sure that he would never leave your bed again. He’d keep you there forever, pleasured and loved and full of him. He barely wants to let you go even now. You are his perfect human, his his his.
So yes, for the moment, this is enough. In fact, if this was all there was, it would be perfect.
You’re just as happy too, content to spend your days with your puppyboy, walking on air from joy. It isn’t just that he seems to make it his duty to make sure you cum at least once a day - though admittedly that is remarkably sweet of him - it’s that he really is devoted to you. He plods around the house after you with a lovestruck, dopey grin which has you melting, will sit outside your office until you’re done with meetings and he can be in the room with you again. On days when you have to go into work in person he’s constantly texting you and you make sure to call him on your lunch break, and he’s so excited just to hear your voice.
You’ve had a couple more visits from the shelter and they seem very happy with your progress together. The fact you’re in a relationship doesn’t seem to surprise your case worker; in fact she’s very pleased for you both and can tell the feelings you harbour for each other are mutual. It’s pretty much settled: Copia has found his forever home with you.
It’s when you’re coming home from a shopping trip that the first non-perfect incident occurs.
Copia is helping you carry your grocery bags to the car when you pass your friend Marie who you’ve not seen for a couple of months - and you’re pleasantly surprised to see that she’s also adopted a puppyboy. Hers is younger, maybe in his twenties, ears pointed upwards and curly tail practically spinning.
“Oh hey, how are you!” you say, bringing her in for a hug.
“I’m pretty great, to be honest! This is Tobias, he’s my puppyboy. Do you wanna shake, honey?” Marie directs the last part to Tobias himself and he immediately sticks out a hand towards you.
“Yeah! Hi, I’m Tobias, it’s super good to meet you!” he closes the gap so you can reach his hand more easily to clasp it - but then Copia steps in between the two of you.
“Get away from my human!” he snarls, and snaps at poor Tobias, who yelps and hides behind Marie. You gasp, boggling at Copia.
“Copia!” you gasp, horrified. He can immediately tell he’s fucked up, falling back behind you, but won’t stop glaring at Tobias. You turn to Marie.
“I’m so, so sorry! He’s never done this before…!” you say, humiliated. She waves the problem away with her hand, and you see that there’s a knowing look on her face.
“It’s fine, babe. I’ll text you, okay?”
You put the shopping in your car and Copia follows along dutifully, quiet. You shake your head when it’s just the two of you.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters, but he still sounds grumpy.
“Copia, you can’t do that, honey. That’s not how we act towards other puppyboys, is it?”
“He was coming at you, coming near you! Wanted to touch you!”
“To say hello, Copia! He wasn’t trying to kiss me or anything.”
Copia growls. You stare at him, and he crosses his arms over his chest like a petulant child.
“Just wanna make sure you’re safe…” he mutters. You sigh and the rest of the drive home is in silence, the radio playing gently in the background to try and mask the discomfort. He takes all of the bags in for you, a silent gesture of apology… and you see you have a text from Marie when you open your phone.
Marie: Your puppyboy is new, right? Have the two of you only gotten together recently?
You watch Copia unpack the groceries for a moment before you shoot off a reply.
You: Yeah, only a couple of months since he moved in, a couple of weeks since we started…
You look at the screen. Dating? Is that the right word? You’ve sort of already made a life commitment to him, so it’s more than that, really.
You: Yeah, only a couple of months since he moved in, been together a couple of weeks. Is it that obvious? I’m so sorry about Tobias, is he ok?
Marie: Nothing some belly rubs won’t fix haha. He was the same when we got together. The thing is puppyboys can get real territorial real fast. They wanna protect their humans, you know? There’s a couple of good ways to train them if you’re together though. Cages worked wonders for Tobias.
She sends you a few links through, and as you wonder about the logistics of caging Copia in a crate overnight, you click on the first one…
And feel yourself get warm as you see it’s taken you to a cock cage site.
You take a moment to scroll through what she’s sent over. Apparently cock caging puppyboys has been scientifically proven to help calm them down, keep their possessive urges for their humans under control. It also seems that puppyboys really, really enjoy being caged by a human they trust. It can be a wonderful bonding exercise and bring you closer.
Puppyboys respond very well to being trained. Maybe that’s what Copia needs from you, a firmer hand…
Plus the idea of him letting you keep him in line makes you throb.
“Tesoro?” he asks from the door, scuffing his shoe against the carpet. “I’m sorry about earlier. I just don’t like it when people come near you like that…”
CW: Exhibitionism, masturbating, sexting, embarrassment, humiliation kink, strip poker but with quizzes instead of poker, alcohol, virtual public nudity, Let’s pretend Copia could use a laptop with relative ease, Don’t ask me how zoom quizzes worked the only interactions I had in Covid times were with my animal crossing villagers.
Amidst the busy schedule of the Imperatour, Copia gets his scheduled Doom calls mixed up.
A reminder for all those attending - What happens in the Clergy Quiz Group calls, stays in the Clergy Quiz Group calls.
AO3 Link
“Copia! Glad you could make i-” you stopped yourself as Copia’s webcam stream loaded in. The greetings from the rest of the group quickly became silent.
“Cazzo!” Copia gasped, slamming the laptop shut.
There was a stunned silence from the entire call as you all processed what you’d just seen.
Papa Emeritus the Fourth, sitting fully nude in his hotel room, had just shown the entire clergy quiz group his raging hard on.
It was a tradition started in the midst of lockdown, with a few members from different branches of the clergy getting together to do quizzes, play games or just drink and shittalk a few times a month.
“Oh.” Your skin felt hot, realising Copia’s mixup. Quickly you muted yourself, grabbing your phone to call him.
“...Hey.”
“I, eh. I am going to retire. Immediately. Maybe move to Antartica.” Stifling a giggle you listened to Copia’s mortified rambling, hand pressed over your mouth.
“Babe. You… you got the days mixed up, huh?”
“... Sì…” You could only just hold back your laugh, having already had a few drinks while waiting for the whole group to get online. But still, you could sympathise with his embarrassment.
“Copia… y’know the way I tried to teach you video calls on your phone?”
“I… yes.” He sighed, recognising that his refusal to learn had led to this, with him being the one who insisted your steamy calls were done over Doom when he was away on tour. “I will learn. Or… maybe I will move into the sewers. Never to be seen again...” He trailed off with another embarrassed groan.
Your eyes flicked to your laptop, tuning back into the group discussion. Oh. Oh, dear.
“Copia…” You mumbled, trying not to giggle. “The… the group would like you to come back.”
“Why? So they can laugh at me?” He huffed, and even through the phone you could see his petulant expression clear as day in your mind.
“No. They’re doing a poll… They want you back on… As you were.” You grinned, hearing Copia let out a choked squeak, while quickly adding your own yes vote to the poll. “It’s an overwhelmingly positive response babe…”
Another groan, followed by him hanging up. You frowned, worried you’d upset him. He didn’t pick up when you tried to call him again. But after a few minutes, your attention was drawn back to the Doom call when the group erupted in a symphony of wolf whistles and cheers.
Grinning, you unmuted yourself, seeing Copia’s video feed returning to the call, albeit now fully dressed in his red sweatpants and hoodie.
“Hey, go easy on him.” You tutted, seeing how he rubbed his palm over his face in embarrassment.
After a fair and reasonable amount of teasing from the rest of them, and Copia raiding a few of the tiny bottles from his hotel minibar, you all managed to put the incident to rest, moving on to talk about what you had all been up to since the last virtual meetup. And of course, how the tour was going, when Copia wasn’t busy stark naked in hotel rooms tugging on his cock.
“So… I have an idea…” Everyone hushed as the quizmaster - one of the Bishops from the French sect, grinned, rubbing their hands together. “Strip quiz.”
The group groaned. Another poll was quickly put together. Another majority yes.
A few members chose not to participate, dipping out of the call, and a few choosing not to join but sticking around to watch.
Everyone split into their usual quiz duos. You and Copia.
Usually you loved being in his team, endeared by how bad he was at the quizzes, getting easily distracted by the group’s discussions rather than helping you answer the questions. But tonight - with multiple rounds, and the losing team giving up an item of clothing with each round. You realised there was a strong likelihood that you would soon end up in Copia’s rather embarrassing predicament yourself.
As you voiced your suggestion to mix up the usual teams, you could see Copia looking away from his laptop, your phone quickly lighting up.
Copia: Your turn ;)
Your skin burned. That bastard. You could see how hard it was for him to hold back a smug smirk as he watched the screen for your reaction, waiting for you to call him out.
Six rounds later, you sat shirtless, trying not to curl up from the embarrassment. He was doing it on purpose, doing his best to answer questions before you, getting the answers wrong to leave you both dead last. Each round ended in more jeers and whistles from the rest of the group.
You’d slung back the rest of your wine just to give you the liquid courage to not dip out of the call. If Copia was so keen on a repeat of earlier, you’d let him have it, even if it meant fully exposing yourself as well.
By the final round, the two of you were already fully nude, you crouched in your seat, trying to keep some of your dignity. Copia, on the other hand, was sitting proud at the hotel desk, angling his laptop just right to give them all the best few.
“So.” The Bishop grinned, wrapping up the final scores, “Congratulations to tonight’s victorious duo - Quiz the go-goat. All of you, feel free to chime in with suggestions of what tonight’s prize should be… Um… Papa- Or, Taint Ticklers, condolences to you both on your loss tonight.”
“What, the quiz or their dignity?” One of the cardinals chimed in with a bark of laughter, setting you all off. As much as you wanted to curl up and die, both you and Copia still managed to laugh it off.
Another one of the bishops - one from the winning duo interrupted with a chuckle.
“I think I’ve got an idea for our prize…”
You all waited impatiently as they privately messaged the quizmaster, who burst into a fit of giggles upon reading it. You grimaced, stomach dropping as you instinctively got a bad feeling about it.
Another poll popped up:
“Papa IV special solo performance? Yes/No.”
A bark of laughter left you, relieved you weren’t being dragged into it, the group quickly locking in their responses.
Clicking Copia’s webcam feed you could just about make out the smug smirk on his lips, knowing that he was loving every second of it as he acted coy, enough to make you roll your eyes.
“Me? You, eh, want me to sing or something?”
“No!” Numerous members of the group exclaimed, drunk enough to be fooled by his played up bumbling.
The quizmaster clarified excitedly, “No, Papa. I think we’d all like to get a glimpse of the show you thought your dear teammate was going to get tonight.”
“Oh! Sì, sì!” Copia laughed, running a hand through his hair, giving everyone another glimpse of his hardened cock that he had been clumsily attempting to cover with his arms. “Well… I don’t see the harm in a little… private performance.”
Your eyes widened, jaw slack in disbelief as he so casually grabbed a bottle of lube from his desk, squeezing some onto his length.
“Copia?” You mumbled, in a state of disbelief that this was really happening. And that smug bastard, his mismatched eyes locked onto his camera, as if looking right through you. Leaning back, he spread his legs as he grasped the base of his cock, giving you all a wink.
In spite of how tired he was from the band’s show earlier in the night, he gave his all to the group, paying it up as he jerked himself off for the camera. You were stunned, eyes fixated on the screen, unsure if you were jealous, aroused, mortified or some sordid mixture of all three as the group egged him on, only turning their attention away from him to occasionally tease you for your gobsmacked reaction.
Teasing you only seemed to get him more excited, hell, he even joined in, stammering jokes about how you were squirming about in your seat as he pulled on his cock with more enthusiasm, a hand moving to rub his balls.
You knew he loved the feeling of having the eyes of an attentive audience on him on stage, but this, this was something else, seeing just how quickly he was beginning to come undone while everyone watched.
“Ah, shit!”
Copia made no attempts to cover the tip of his cock as he came all over his stomach, earning cheers and whistles from his enraptured audience.
He slumped back in his chair, trying to collect himself through shallow breaths. Eventually, he managed to clear his throat, flashing you all a quick grin, as the rest of them all began to settle down.
“Okie dokie. I shall ah, see you all next time. With my robes on, I hope.” Copia made a surprisingly graceful exit from the call, while you just about managed to close the programme and shut your laptop without so much as a goodbye to the group, still in disbelief at what you - what all of you had just watched.
Quickly your phone buzzed as Copia called you.
“You just-”
“I did, amore.” He chuckled breathlessly, as if his actions were only just sinking in, the adrenaline of it all wearing off. You both burst into a fit of giggles. When he spoke again his voice was husky, and you could hear him rattling at the room’s minibar again. “You look good when you get all embarrassed like that. Very cute, sì.”
“Yeah, well don’t get used to it Papa.” You scoffed, still feeling a heat in your cheeks thinking about how exposed you were.
“Oh, amore, don’t be like that… Besides, you didn’t have to fuck yourself in front of them all.”
“Oh god…” You cringed at the mere thought.
“But…” Copia murmured, obviously trying to turn up the charm. “I was hoping for a private show of my own, hm?”
You groaned, but reached over to open your laptop again.
“Fine…” You muttered, unable to hold back a grin as he let out a triumphant aha on the other end of the line, “Since you’d gotten yourself so excited for it earlier…”
“Grazie, amore! And, eh… next time we lose, it’s your turn to, ah, take one for the team…”
I got tagged in a bunch of these ages ago - I was not ignoring them, I just genuinely rarely have any snippets I can post. BUT NOW I DO.
I am fighting the urge to add context to this which is another reason I struggle to post these. All I will say is when the full version is posted, please pay attention to any tags/warnings :)
But for now have a very short snippet below (SFW but rest of the fic won't be)
Dracopia x Reader (discussions of blood-drinking and murdering but no gory details... yet)
"Is he… did you…?"
"Yes, he's dead."
Copia gently turns you to face him. He pouts when you flinch away from his hand as it cups your chin. He cocks an eyebrow and waits.
"I ran out of time," you huff. "It was quick. Too close to painless."
He hides a crooked smile as he hangs his head before pulling you into his chest. "I see."
"So if I don't taste as good, blame th—"
"Shhhhhh."
It had been the same routine for a while now. After a mission, you were always to come straight to him. As fast as possible, absolutely no showering beforehand. Rarely, when circumstances allowed, he would accompany you. He had no interest in drinking from your victims for the most part, their blood tainted by sins too depraved for even him to stomach, and their fear not enough to sugarcoat it. And he wasn't there to help, he would never suggest you needed that. It was a blessing to watch you work but nothing compared to piercing into your skin just as the light left their eyes, your raised heart rate pushing your rage-tinged blood out of his puncture, gushing into his waiting, starved mouth.
Copia gently lifts your hand above your head and rests your arm around his neck as he pushes his weight into you.
"If you need to take it out on me," he whispers between quick kisses, "you know I am only too happy to let you."
~ Accidentally triggering every single Halloween display in the Shopping Centre ~
I LIVE for Copia’s shenanigans and childlike wonderment. He’s just too cute 🎃🖤
Coupling: Papa Emeritus iv x GN! reader
Word Count: 618
A quick stop at the shopping centre turns into pure Halloween chaos when Papa Copia “accidentally” sets off every animatronic in the haunted aisle. Between cackling witches, shrieking ghosts, and one very patient employee, you somehow find yourselves laughing through the mayhem—and maybe discovering that the real trick (or treat) was how easy it is to fall for him in the middle of it all. 🎃💀
The shopping centre is brimming with fake spiderwebs, orange and purple string lights and animatronic skeletons that groan when you get too close. Copia is, of course, enchanted by it all.
“Ah! Cara mia, look at this one! He sings!” He says as he excitedly squeezes the hand of a life sized vampire before you can warn him.
The vampire eyes glow red and it bellows “I vant to suck your blood!”, startling a nearby child in the process. You snort out a laugh.
“Copia!!!” You hiss between laughter, making him throw his hands up in mock surrender. “You can’t touch everything!”
“Ah, but I am appreciating the craftsmanship!” He insists, leaning in extremely close to a crystal ball. “Look! It’s moving! Eh- what does this do-?”
You have no time to answer before he pushes a button and the crystal ball shrieks to life, followed by a cackling witch, the howling of a motion censored werewolf- and like some kind of unholy chorus- every animatronic within 30 feet roars to life.
Suddenly the entire aisle is enveloped in chaos: banshees howling, skeletons clattering, ghosts screeching. A giant Frankenstein at the end of the aisle starts crooning the “Monster Mash”.
Copia freezes mid-step, one hand still outstretched like a small child caught in the act of something they shouldn’t be doing. His hat now slightly askew and his eyes the size of saucers.
“…Ah,” he says softly, voice being drowned out by the loud noise. “I may have…how you say…awoken them all. Heh.”
You try so hard to hold it together. Really really try. It is impossible- the sight of your tall Papa standing amidst a chorus of wailing Halloween props is too much. You break into a laughing fit, clutching your stomach as the vampire beside him starts to sing again.
“Do not laugh! This is a serious haunting!” Copia states through a twitching grin. “They are possessed by the spirit…of good marketing!”
A store employee walks by, facial expression flat and unimpressed as they reach for the master switch behind the animatronic display. One by one the ghosts and goblins power down into silence, the string lights above dim and you were both left in an eerie quiet.
Both of you stand there in the aftermath. Copia rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “In my defense, amore…I was…testing the quality, si?”
You arch a brow holding back laughter. “Testing how easily you can cause a supernatural event at the mall?”
“Ah! But what an event!” He states proudly, hand flourishing dramatically. Leaning in closer to you, his grin softens. “At least I gave you something to laugh about, eh?”
Your laughter melts into a genuine smile as he gently brushes a stray cobweb from the sleeve of your jacket. A by product from standing too close to the out of control animatronic display. As the Halloween lights dim, his face is painted in a soft glow of amber and shadows, the chaos from before slowly fizzling away.
“Next time,” you tease him “we’re starting at the coffee shop, not the haunted aisle.”
“Next time,” he murmurs, as his warm gaze meets yours, “I’ll try to haunt only you.”
You are still smiling from ear to ear as he offers you his arm, leading you towards the food court. The smell of pumpkin spice and cinnamon rolls are wafting through the air. As you leave, one last ghostly animatronic lets out a delayed- “Boo!” And Copia, ever dramatic, clutches his heart.
“Ah see! Even the spirits cannot let us go!”
Your laughing fit starts all over again as you walk away, hands slowly intertwining, the chaos already turning into the magic of a perfect Autumn memory.
so i've had the start of this fic sitting in my drafts for a HOT MINUTE and decided to finally give myself an excuse to finish this WIP so here we are! as you can probably tell, i really like pet play and will continue to write it again and again. as always, i hope you enjoy this!
asks for papas ii, iii, iv & v are open (writing is on hold until kinktober is finished)! if you like what i do and want to support me, i have a tip jar. i'm a broke uni student and things are really tight this month so any support helps me keep doing what i'm doing 👉👈
contents: bottom!copia, oral sex (reader receiving), praise
NSFW under the cut - MDNI
Baby blue was his colour. The pastel tone contrasted against freckled, sun-kissed skin in such a way that it made you wish you could devour him whole. He was beautiful like this, the neoprene stretched across his chest and neck with a little heart-shaped tag dangling from the collar with the inscription ‘good boy’, on his knees on the carpeted floor of your shared bedroom, head perfectly empty as his own drool drips from his chin down to his chest.
There were too many responsibilities and stressors that came with being Papa to even begin to count. Initially, Copia had thought his role as Cardinal was complicated. The promotion to Papa showed him just how wrong he was in believing that position was difficult. Oh, how he yearned to go back to simpler days when he wasn’t as hands-on with the band. As much as he loved performing- between getting to sing and dance for people who enjoyed it, getting to see the world, and the adoring fans- it was exhausting. There was so much work to do that it felt unending, and he just needed the opportunity to clear his mind of it all. Even if only for an hour or two.
His cheek was pressed firmly against your clothed thigh, gently rubbing back and forth absentmindedly as you continued with your work. Whenever he got like this, he was always desperate for contact, no matter what that contact might be— simply high on the need for you approval however he could get it. Occasional little whines and whimpers slip out from his pretty, painted lips as he slowly works at easing his cheek further up, up to where he can see where you strain in your dress slacks.
Just as his nose is about to brush up against your semi-hard on, you give a gentle little tug to his brown hair, pulling him so that his prize is just out of reach. You offer him a chastising click of your tongue, looking down at him with a cocked brow.
"What is it that you want, sweetheart? Come on, you know that you don't get anything unless you ask nicely."
Copia looks up at you with what you think very well could be the sweetest look you've seen in your entire life, eyes blown wide in desire and welling up with unshed tears as he looks at you with nothing short of pure and utter devotion. He sits up a little, hesitant to pull away from your touch, and lets out a few little yips.
You could never dream of denying your sweet pup anything, especially when he looks at you with such love. At his obedience, you coo at him, taking his face in one of your hands while you use the other to work at unzipping your trousers and pulling your hard length from the confines of your boxers. At the sight of you hard and pulsing in your fist, Copia lets out a few dramatic whines.
"Shhh, it's okay, it's okay. Here you are, baby. Here it is, just take what you need, okay?" You pair your calming words with a gentle stroke against his cheek as Copia dives forward.
Always the eager puppy, he begins to lavish little kitten licks all across the head of your cock, taking his time with each little lap of his tongue and kiss he leaves. The sight beneath you seems like a gift from the Olde One himself: Copia's painfully hard dick throbbing between his thighs as he desperately worships your cock, leaving streaks of his black lipstick all across your length.
With a pleased sigh, you release your member, allowing Copia to do as he pleases, and ease your hand back into his hair as he takes your head into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks out around you and giving a firm suck.
"There you go, puppy. Are you gonna be happy now while I finish my work?"
Too busy to give you a verbal response, Copia gives his ass a gentle wiggle, making the silicone tail plug buried deep inside him wag side to side in an affirmative response.
"That's a good boy for me. I'll make sure you get a nice reward afterwards, okay puppy?"
taglist: @assmaster37 @cenotaphghuleh @plague-agent @thegholdenghoulz @fratello-rigatoni @copingcopia if you'd like to be added (or removed) please let me know!
Copia returns from tour—with a different name, a different job, a different life—only to find that your friendship is changing too. He takes this as well as can be expected.
content: 6.8k words, gn!reader, friends with benefits to lovers, angst, hurt/little comfort, miscommunication, grief, anger, mental health exploration, negative self-talk, love confessions, smut (spit as lube (kind of), unspecified penetration, a small dom!copia moment but it’s mostly emotional sex)
Masterlist – Ao3 link – RATED E – 18+
Prelude
It’s the night before he leaves.
Your legs slung around him, mouths pressed together with teeth-deep desperation.
It’s been hours of this. You move on top of him like it’s your last night on earth, ragged breaths, grinding down again and again and he clings to you like it’s his only anchor to the world. It might well be, the thought of leaving has him biting deep marks into your neck, purpling your skin so you won’t forget who fucks you better than anyone else.
“Fuck, C–” you moan and then you come, clenching so tightly around him that he spills inside of you, unprepared for how it knocks the wind out of him. He doesn’t withdraw, doesn’t let you get up—he’s not ready to. He’ll wait and have you again and again until you’re both sore and bruised and disgusting and not even a shower makes you feel clean.
Months. It’ll be months before he gets to have this again.
“You’re my best friend,” you whisper. “You know that, right?”
“Yes,” he says and his heart aches the way it always aches when you say it.
“What will I do when you’re gone?”
Copia’s eyes widen a fraction, he feels himself getting soft, feels how your mixed come sticks to his lap and cools into messy stains. Don’t sleep with someone else, he thinks but doesn’t say. Don’t forget about me. Don’t stop wanting me.
“I will call,” is what he does say. “We can chat. We can send each other funny pictures.”
“Yes, I’d like that.”
It’s ironic, how he can’t bridge over that word. Friends. What does it even mean? You’ve been friends for a long time, since before he became Papa, and yet he’s seen you naked more times than he can count. And he knows in a few hours he’ll hold you, not letting go all night because that’s what he does, that’s what you do, somehow, and have been doing for a while now. Fuck, hold each other, back to friends in the daylight.
It was easy to start sleeping with you, ever since you kissed him for the first time and insisted that it was not a weird thing between friends. He supposes that’s true, it’s not weird, but is it weird to make each other come all night only to get up and watch a movie like nothing happened?
“It’ll go by fast,” you say. “You’ll be back before we know it.”
He grimaces, can’t think about it, this tour ending and what they’ll do to him, who they’ll replace him with, whether he’ll return at all. His end is approaching, years of Papacy coming to a close, and he’s still not sure what will become of him. And you’re a safety net, the only thing that might be able to catch him when they let him fall.
“Sorry,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I know you don’t like to talk about it.”
“It’s okay, tesoro,” he says, hiding his face at your neck. “It will be fine as long as I have you.”
─── ⋆⁺‧₊ ✦ ⛧ ✦ ₊‧⁺⋆ ───
I
It doesn’t happen like that. He does call, you do chat, you send funny pictures, but then it slowly dies down. He’s getting exhausted, bone-tired. Tour gets you like that. He puts on his best show every night, absorbs the energies of the crowd and feels like he matters, feels like he belongs. Then he lies down and his body lets him know that he’s not young anymore, aches, groans, complains. The dread sets in, the premature grief about losing what he loves the most, and then he has to close his eyes to pretend that none of it is real.
He falls asleep and misses your calls. He starts a text but forgets to hit send until hours later and by then you’ve stopped replying, busy with your own work. He wants to tell you how scared he is but you’re thousands of kilometres away and he knows you’d just be fretting about him. You can’t help, not really. The calls you share he spends soaking up the familiar sound of your voice, hesitating to let his worries beat the smile from your lips when it’s the only thing that grounds him.
After a while, it feels like sleep-walking, like he’s a zombie, part of another dimension, struck numb by fear. He misses the signs, misses the way his mother has changed over the past few months, and he doesn’t realise how he forgot to live until she lies dead in front of him.
Now he’s some sort of imposter. Wearing her title, wearing a suit, a fancy brooch. New office, new staff, new responsibilities, and, worst of all, a new brother that he hasn’t even met. It’s been a whirlwind and he feels like Dorothy, whacked out of time, away from home, in a place he doesn’t recognise.
Only he can’t find the golden road that leads him on.
Where he once stood—in front of cameras, on stage, in his favourite outfits, face paint, intricate robes, flirting with the crowd—now stands a man he doesn’t know. A man who looks like him, vaguely, a man everyone seems to love, a man who stole everything Copia ever wanted.
Well, not quite everything.
But even safety nets can be torn apart.
You’ve reunited, somewhat, but it was nothing like he imagined months ago, when he was almost sure he’d finally confess to you his true feelings. No, instead Copia found you waiting for him when he got back and you hugged him so tight and there was such sympathy on your face. But that was it. Sympathy, hard to tell apart from pity, and he didn’t get a better glimpse at what might be waiting underneath. He thought his heart could leap out of his chest at the sight of you, the only good thing left in his life, but then he felt all the baggage he had arrived with and he couldn’t bring himself to demand more, only to crumble in your sight.
No kissing, not in front of others, not even an hour alone together, he barely remembers how your hand feels in his. He’d been dragged around, re-dressed, shown to his new office, and you’d silently removed yourself when you realised there was no space.
A month ago he watched his mother die.
A month, the official period of mourning.
Everyone is wearing black which is not too different from any usual day, only the spots of colour are missing. It’s bleak and he’s not sure what to do with himself. Grief is odd like that, life doesn’t feel much different until you find the blind spots, the ones that once felt alive.
He has no mother left to guide him, though Marika comes close, closer even than Sister, in many ways. But Copia never felt like he could rely on anyone, not when he was so easily discarded, when he had to claw his way up, was never made to feel like he was good enough to be wanted.
Not until he found you.
You sneak into his office, on occasion. But it’s rare that they let you enter between appointments. They started bothering him with his brother now. Social media marketing. Videos. New music. He blindly approves whatever they show him because he wants no part in any of it. And yet, when they step out of his office, the day his first music video airs, Copia turns on the computer screen, fighting the urge to throw up in anxiety when he sees the perfect embodiment of his role.
You step in after a while, interrupt his sulking, and he hits pause so fast he almost slides off the yellow couch they have him sitting on.
“Hi,” you say, hovering by the door, and then, a little bashfully, “Is this a bad time?”
“No, no,” he says, eager to see you. “Come in.”
You do, sitting on the couch beside him but a few feet apart. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve the distance, but perhaps it’s just that it’s been so long.
“Have you seen him yet?” you ask and to hear you talking about his brother makes him want to crawl out of his skin. “His new video?”
“No,” he lies.
“We could watch it together,” you suggest, creeping a little closer, at last.
He hates it. He hates that you don’t look at him like you did before.
“I guess,” he says and grumbles as he hits the play button, acting like he hasn’t seen it before.
The video plays. He watches, arms crossed, his whole face tensed into a frown. Beside him, you smile, your eyes widen, and he wants to jump up and smash the screen. Only he doesn’t. He’s used to this bubbling anger, he’s carried it his whole life, drumming his fists against the unfairness of it all. The pain underneath has widened into a black abyss. If he let go of his rage he'd fall into the never-ending pit of his own regrets.
So he clings to it. Then it breaks out of him.
“I worked hard,” he says. “I worked hard. For years. Decades, eh? And he just– he just got it handed. Just so. He didn’t even show up here before. What did he do, huh? He didn’t work for it like I did. And now I have to sit here in this shit office watching this fucker do my job.”
“C–”
“I know, it is a promotion, bla bla bla.”
“Well, it is a promotion.”
He scoffs, shakes his head and tsks at the monitor in front of him. “I didn’t ask for it. I was going to stay Papa, I did a fucking good job.”
“You did, no one is doubting that.”
“He is only successful because I made it all happen first.”
You stop arguing and it’s good because he would go on for another hour. At this point, you are the only one willing to enter his office without immediately running out again. Maybe you don’t recognise him like this, maybe that’s why you sit far away from him these days. At any rate, his frown doesn’t impress the video he’s been hate-looping for the past hour, watching his twin brother on stage while he’s stuck in this yellow hell of a room.
“I think I should go,” you say, then, and he looks at you with a sudden regret.
“Tesoro–”
“I think you need time,” is what you say. “You need time to process all of this. And I’m here to help, whenever you need me, but I can’t give you back what they took. And I’m so fucking sorry for that.”
He wants to touch you, desperately, reach out and pull you into his arms. But he can tell you’re insecure and not sure how to approach him. Why did he let it out on you? He doesn’t know what to say so he nods and when you leave his office he hides his tears behind angry fists.
─── ⋆⁺‧₊ ✦ ⛧ ✦ ₊‧⁺⋆ ───
II
The meeting drags on.
He blocked out that he’d have to work with you in his new position, and it doesn’t help that you’ve avoided his gaze for the past hour. It’s the first big staff meeting and your department has presented already, so he gets to endure the other reports while you sit opposite him, listening, apparently, to the detailed budgeting of the kitchens while he doesn’t give a shit.
He’s willing you to look at him but you squirm around on your chair, picking at the wood of the table. Copia knows he spooked you in his office, his outburst a sign of the ugly side of his feelings. It shocked him, too, to see you closing up against him. A wake up call, in a way, albeit too late.
Finally, you do glance over and he tries to smile, gives a small wave and you grimace, half-smile, half-insecurity. Your fingers lift as if to return the gesture but then you look away, embarrassed, and don’t turn back around for the rest of the morning.
Everyone trickles out of the room and you end up last, farthest away from the door. You try to squeeze past Copia who catches your elbow and you drop your pen, startled at the contact. He crouches, picking it up for you, and at the touch of your hands a shudder zings through him.
“Thank you, Frater,” you say, keeping your gaze lowered.
His heart shatters, his mouth contorting. “Don’t. Don’t call me that.”
Your eyes lift, his hand still holding yours over the pen, and then you glance around to make sure you’re alone. Some of the tension leaves you but it’s not the same as it was before, the ease gone, the familiarity.
Copia sighs, bracing himself for the speech he’d practiced in his head all night. “I’m sorry for how I talked to you in the office. It was not– not fair to you.”
A sigh falls from your lips, heavy, like you’ve been carrying it for days. “Copia, I’m sorry I just left. It’s– it’s difficult for me. Everything is different now.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” he says.
“But it is. Suddenly, you’re my boss and superior and–”
“But I was before, as Papa.”
“That was different, I didn’t report to you. I didn’t sit through these meetings with you.”
He shakes his head. “It’s fine. We can… we can pretend, in front of the others, that we don’t– that we’re not–”
He stops his stammering. That you’re not what? He hasn’t touched you in months, hasn’t kissed you, hugged you, barely talked to you for more than ten minutes at a time. His lungs stutter with their next breath, the pain, the fear of losing you, the way you can hardly look at him anymore.
You take pity on him, then, or he thinks that must be why you suddenly wrap your arms around him. He deflates, swallowing against the rising panic, grabbing you tightly, tighter than he usually would. He’s afraid you’ll run through his fingers like sand and you wince but that’s it, no moving to extract yourself. It calms him until he can allow himself to loosen his hold.
“I do want to be there for you,” you whisper, your hand wiping over his back, that stupid thick fabric of his blazer hiding the sensation. “I just don’t know how. You were– you were so angry. It scared me.”
“But– but we’re still friends?” he asks, and it is pitiful, even to himself, how he’s basically begging you not to abandon him.
“Of course. Of course we are, C.”
It is okay, he thinks. That’s all he could have hoped for. Friends. Perhaps a step back, for now, until everything goes back to normal. That stupid hope he clings to, that this new life is going to stop feeling foreign to him, that he won’t feel like a stranger to himself anymore.
He knows himself when he’s in your arms. The man he used to be not quite so far away. And he can live with the rejection, he can live with it, as long as he has you. He’ll love you like he did all this time, nothing changed. Nothing changed. Only everything.
“I have to go,” you whisper, then. “I told a friend I’m having lunch with them.”
“Ah, yes.” He lets go, the knife lodged into his heart. “Yes, yes, go eat lunch, tesoro.”
You hesitate, a fraction of a second in which you hold his gaze the way you used to before you hooked up. That spark of longing, the tension before a kiss, anticipation. But it’s fleeting. You disappear through the door, hurrying away, and it feels like you’re fleeing.
Meeting a friend. A friend, like he is your friend? A friend you kiss and fuck and hold all night?
He feels ashamed of the accusation, buries it. He was gone for a while. You have needs. It’s well within your rights. He never had any claim over you, no. He’s a friend.
A friend. Yes, a friend. That’s all he is. Nothing more.
─── ⋆⁺‧₊ ✦ ⛧ ✦ ₊‧⁺⋆ ───
III
He finds you in a hallway that leads to the Sibling dorms. Finds you, as if he didn’t purposely stalk the areas he knows you frequent, pretending to go to the bathroom. It’s been days since he last saw you and it’s been eating at him, that awkward conversation, the implications of it, the image of you fucking someone else.
Everything is calming down now. As much as it can, at least, the mourning over, half-dead flower arrangements carried out to compost, standard operations back in order. It feels like an insult to him. The only things that are not back to normal are the things he wants the most.
You jump when you see him and of course you do, he’s never leaving his office these days.
“Hi,” he says to absorb the shock. “Hello.”
“Hello,” you say, removing the earbuds you’d rounded the corner with. “Uh, were you looking for me?”
He’s tapping his toes, bobbing back and forth. “Ah, yes, yes. I wanted to see you.”
Another Sibling takes the corner, startling at the sight. They move past towards the dorms, glancing back over their shoulder until they’re stumbling up the stairs. He forgot how many people exist. So many people. Was he ever aware of it before?
“So ah, who is– who is the friend?” he asks.
“What friend?”
“The friend you are hanging out with,” he says, trying not to sound bitter. Who did you replace me with? he truly wants to ask. Neither is a good entry question but he doesn’t care.
You furrow your brow and he almost reaches out to smooth it, an old habit. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t visit anymore,” he says, his voice breaking. And you haven’t. Not since he lashed out.
Understanding dawns on your face but he sees the hint of shame as well. He’s known you for too long to miss when you’re uncomfortable. “The’ve sent me away a few times now, telling me you’re not in a mood to receive people,” you explain. “You’re– you’re letting it out on them, you know?”
He does know. He knows. And if he’s being truthful it’s not just his brother that irks him, it’s everything. The hushed whispers about their sparkling new Papa, Psaltarian praising the guy in every meeting, the posts he approves that celebrate his successes.
All he can give as a reply is a short, “Oh.”
It hangs in the air for a moment. You sigh, not annoyed but unsure. Your body language hasn’t changed, at least.
“There’s no one else, no one outside of the usual people,” you say, then you tug at his sleeve, pulling him aside with a frown. “If you– Copia, if you think– I’m not sleeping with anyone else.”
“Ah.” He nods, biting his inner lip until it hurts. “Well, then.” Then I guess you just don’t want me anymore.
“You’re grieving, you’ve gone through so many changes,” you say, like that explains it. “I just didn’t want to add to all that by forcing my way in and demanding your time when you don’t feel like hanging out.”
He wants to scream. Demanding his time? Like you’ve ever demanded anything. Everything was freely given. He’d have given you more, if he hadn’t been such a coward. If you’d only asked.
“I– I miss you,” he says instead. “I need you. I can’t– I don’t know what to do.”
Your eyes are sad when he finally meets them. Your hand is still wrapped around his elbow, slides down to fumble with his glove. His heart skips.
“It just doesn’t feel like there’s space in your life,” you say.
“There is always space for you, you know this.”
“I don’t think there is, C. They just drag you around and I don’t even know when I’m allowed to see you anymore. And when I– when I do get to see you it’s like you’re stuck in your own world.”
He knows you’re right. He’s been wallowing in it, the self-loathing, the grief of it all. Why would you visit him, when all he does is mope and rage and shut you out? When you try to be there for him all he feels is anger and regret, fear that he’d lose you if he showed you the hideous truth of him. But he can’t admit that to himself. His office is like a trap that brings out all these ugly emotions, this job like poison. He’s never let you see him like this before—proud and angry and resentful. He’s a mess.
“I get it,” you whisper before he can reply. “Fuck, I get it, C. Grief is hard, you lost so fucking much. I know. But every time I try to talk about it you blame it on your brother and get so dismissive and angry, like you don’t want me there.”
“I know,” he says and the words tumble out. “I know I am angry– But not at you– Never at you.”
“It’s just– I don’t know that I recognise you anymore.”
The words sting. You might as well have slapped him, in that moment, and the worst is he knows he deserves it. He’s thought it before, after all, only he didn’t know that having it confirmed would hurt so bad. And why would you lie? He doesn’t even recognise himself. Not like this. Not without you.
“We can change that,” he says, desperate now. “You could come over? We could watch a movie. And talk.” And kiss, and fuck, and hold each other, and sleep in each other’s arms. “Like good old times, yes?”
“I would love to but I am on cleaning duty tonight. Every night, this week, actually,” you say, glancing at your watch. “There’s been so much to do now that everyone’s preparing for… for Papa.”
“I can clear your evening,” he offers, latching on to the only thing that doesn’t upset him. “One good thing about this new job, eh? I will assign the work to someone else.”
You hesitate for a moment, considering. He’s willing you to say yes, to nod, to smile, to hug him again, but you just shake your head. “I can’t accept that. I don’t want you to play favourites. It’s messy enough as is. People are already talking.”
“It’s not–” He stops because you’re right, that is what he’s doing, only he doesn’t see why that would be a bad thing. Why should he not use his position to help you? With a smile, he shrugs, tries to lighten the mood. “But you are my favourite, tesoro.”
“C–”
“I know, I know,” he says, glancing away to hide the tears that spring to his eyes.
Your fingers squeeze his arm but he almost doesn’t feel it. “Another time, okay? Next week?”
He nods, his heart sinking to his stomach where it beats shallowly against the pain. “Okie dokie.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, it’s fine. It’s all peachy.” He nods, lips pressed tight. “Some other time, then, yes?”
“C– Maybe we can–”
He can’t stand it any longer. Every rejection is another punch that threatens to finally knock him down. He leaves you standing there, feels the loss as your hand glides off his arm and falls away. He should be back in the office, anyway, sneak in before they come looking for him. If he’s lucky they leave him alone for the rest of the day and he can numb himself with old movies, leave this reality behind and pretend that none of it hurts anymore.
─── ⋆⁺‧₊ ✦ ⛧ ✦ ₊‧⁺⋆ ───
IV
The stone breaks the surface of the water with a splash. Orange ripples vibrate through the tension, a current forming underneath, waves of reflected colours slowly evening out until the water is quiet once more.
He throws another stone.
Copia watches the pond-lilies swaying under the impact, finally alone outside as everyone swarms back in for dinner. He doesn’t like going out these days, the pressure of being perceived. Demoted Papa, incapable leader, it’s written on everyone’s faces no matter how many times they claim it’s a promotion. He’s not truly in charge, the reigns are still in his mother ghostly hands, lead by all the people she implanted over the years, a structure decades in the making.
He’s a pawn, nothing more. Was he ever more?
He doesn’t hear the steps until he startles from a hand, gingerly placed on his shoulder. When he looks up, the sun catches in your eyes so beautifully that he forgets to take his next breath. “Tesoro?”
You sit beside him, staring at the last few ripples in the pond. “You ran off the other day.”
“You didn’t want me there.”
“That’s not true.”
He looks at you, only to find your eyes on him. It may be the first time he notes that you don’t look well and he wonders if it’s true. If they’re overworking everyone to prepare for the era of his brother. He never would have asked this of them.
A part of him softens. Perhaps you don’t look well because you miss him.
“I was looking for you in the office,” you go on, taking one of the stones he gathered and throwing it as well. The impact is softer, the throw not carrying the same anger.
“I’m not needed there,” he says and throws one himself. Then, quieter, “No one needs me.”
“I need you.”
All he can do is scoff. You frown but don’t fight him. For a moment everything is quiet and he can hear the soft breeze stroking through the trees. He thinks you might leave, that all is said between you now, but then you release a breath that rattles in your throat.
You’re nervous, he realises.
“I swapped my shift,” you say. “That’s why I’m here. I thought we could hang out tonight.”
Copia repeats the words over in his mind. “Hang out tonight?”
“Yeah, like–” You smile, mimicking him. “Like good old times.”
He sits, stone-stiff, his heart weighing down his chest, and instead of a reply he leans in to capture your lips. You startle and he tries to pull away but you won’t let him. Your teeth catch on his bottom lip and he groans, presses in firmly to swallow the hesitation. He hasn’t kissed you in months and suddenly every inch of him is trying to fill the hollow you have left. His tongue brushes past your lips, parting you, and at the loss of control you reach to grab for him, a finger hooking into his collar, dishevelling him as you scrabble for hold.
Copia feels your nails biting into his neck and his cock throbs in his pants. With your taste in his mouth all he wants is to let go, push you back and take you right here until the rest of the world blurs into nothingness. But then you push at him, the brooch jangling under your hand.
“Not here,” you whisper.
“But–”
“I still have to help out with cleanup after dinner but I can come over after that, bring some snacks,” you offer. “Then we can talk, okay?”
“Yes.”
“Copia–”
“Shh.” He trembles, rests his forehead against yours, swallows hard against the lump forming in his throat. “Let me hope, tesoro. Don’t take this from me as well.”
─── ⋆⁺‧₊ ✦ ⛧ ✦ ₊‧⁺⋆ ───
IV+I
He traverses barely lit hallways. It’s way past dinner, Siblings huddling in quiet corners, whispering when he passes, nervous, jittering, dropping his keys more than once. He misses his tricycle, how he used it to make people laugh, startle couples out of their kisses with a mischievous tinkle of its bell, racing others down the hall with his cassock catching in the wheels.
Now he can’t look at it without crying.
Copia’s not sure how long you’ll be busy. He tried to gauge, thought about waiting behind the kitchens, but he couldn’t stand being ogled by everyone who passed. He hid in his office, staring at the yellow wallpaper, thinking he was losing his mind like the woman in the book. Still better than sitting at home like a pathetic little puppy, waiting for you to come, waiting for the inevitable pain when you tell him that you only love him as a friend.
The lock clicks only once but his racing heart muffles the sound and he doesn’t notice. He can feel his pulse in his ears, drumming the beat of his fear, his fingers shaking in sync.
Your shoes are waiting by the door.
Copia’s breath hitches, suffocating him. Of course, you still have the key to his rooms.
He closes his eyes for a precious second, lets the wave of panic subside. He can do this. He can tell you what he feels, he can show you. And if not, he’ll accept his fate, he’ll be your friend. He’ll–
The noise from his bedroom startles him out of his stupor. The springs in his bed squeak as you sit down on it. A sound he’s heard so many times that it feels achingly familiar. Copia wills himself to go on but when he sees you he freezes, blood curdling, a hammer falling down.
From underneath the bed, his black Papal robes stick out halfway. The blue robes hang off the side of the mattress in a crumpled heap and in your hands, cradled like a child, you hold the black shirt with the frills you always so loved on him.
At his steps you look up, half-started, half-scared, shame marring your features.
“You hid them,” you whisper.
“You dragged them out.”
“I’m sor–”
His anger bubbles up, half-dormant, now breaking free. “Put it on,” he snaps.
“Copia–”
“You heard me.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you–“
“Put it on–” He presses his lips together. “Put it back or put it on. You can choose. We’ve played this game before, tesoro. We can pretend this never happened or–”
Your eyes, wide and unsure, move from him to the garment. He’s losing his fear, seeing you like this, the way you’re already shifting uncomfortably, aroused from the tone of his voice alone. He’s not spoken like that since he lost the Papacy.
“We can pretend it never happened,” he continues, “or you wear your shame until I’ve fucked it out of you.”
Your lips part but you stifle the sound that threatens to spill, he can see it stuck in your throat. When you move to stand he encroaches, a black, leather-clad hand reaching out to hold the shirt for you. For a moment you merely stare at him, his narrowed eyes, the hint of hope that’s hidden behind them. Don’t back out, he tells himself, and tells you, with a raise of his brow. I want you, I need you. Let me have you. Let me show you what this does to me. Let me show you that I’m still the man you want.
Your fingers lift to nervously fumble with the buttons of your shirt, and he holds back the sigh of relief that shudders through him. You undress, your whole upper body bared to him, a sight so blurry in his memories, now painted over in flesh and blood.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper and he knows you’re not talking about the clothes now. You wrap the black fabric around your shoulders but don’t close it and he stares down at the expanse of bare skin in between. “I was so scared to change what we had. But then it changed anyway and I didn't know what to do.”
A shock, regret and fear and pain and hope building like electric waves, thundering through him until he reaches for you. He wants you so much that it consumes everything else within seconds. He’s never wanted anything more.
“I was scared, too,” he admits, breaking the act, allowing his eyes to well up.
You reach out, a gentle hand cradling his cheek. He desperately pushes against it, as if he could hide in the soft touch you offer. It feels like rediscovering an old habit, an old comfort, but he can’t fall into it yet.
“The pants, too,” he says, more firmly. “I’ll have you in the shirt only.”
You obey, shuffling off the rest of your clothing. He’s seen you naked so many times and yet it never loses its novelty. He can’t tear his eyes away from you. All the months of longing lead to this one moment and somehow he doesn’t feel prepared. So much uncertainty lingers in your eyes, so many unspoken feelings, and he thinks he shouldn’t solve this in bed, should talk and listen and mend, but then his stomach caves and he pulls you close and presses his lips to yours.
His hands move down your body, denting your ass, as if he could feel it through the leather if he only pressed in hard enough. Your lips part for him, the taste of you clouding his self-control and in a fury of need he reaches for your thighs until he can drop you back onto the bed. It creaks, protests against your shared weight. He can’t help but crawl on top of you, fully clothed, the suit so unbearably stiff. The brooch dangles over your bare chest when he glances between your bodies. Goosebumps form where the cool metal touches your skin.
“I missed you,” you whisper against his lips.
He groans, his hips bucking into yours. Pinned as you are, he finally dares to ask the question. “Then why did you leave me? Why did you give up?”
You freeze before moving your hands from his back to his face. “I didn’t mean to.”
He can’t bear to hold your gaze, not when he’s feeling so vulnerable. Instead he sits up, tears the brooch off and wriggles until the blazer falls off. He fights the urge to throw the jewels, forces himself to set them aside gently. When his eyes find yours again he has to blink away immediately.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says.
“Like what?”
“With- with pity.”
“It’s not pity,” you say. ”C–“
He doesn’t listen. Instead he bears down on you again, folding you so your legs are on either side of him and he can drill his hips into yours. When you feel him, pressing in hard against you, your words catch in your throat.
“I don’t want your pity,” he says. “All I want– All I ever wanted–”
He can’t bring himself to say the words. Copia groans, grinds against you again and again, just to feel your body reacting, the only thing he can understand with plain certainty. Your eyes close against the sensation and he forces your attention back on him with a kiss that steals his own breath. You reciprocate eagerly, teeth and tongue, and he struggles to hold himself up. The shirt has fallen from your shoulders, revealing a sheen of sweat on your skin.
“Fuck–” you start, breaking away for air. “Fuck– Please–”
“Now you want me?” he mocks, lips bruised and aching.
“I always wanted you.”
“You didn’t,” he argues but you don’t fight back, the desperation in your eyes is real and he has to relent, suddenly afraid that he’s hurting you.
“Tesoro–”
“Fuck me, Copia, please,” you whine. “Don’t stop.”
He wants so much more. He wants to hear you say it, that you love him, that he’s not just your friend, that you forgive him for pushing you away, that he’s enough, even now, that he’ll feel whole again, that it won’t hurt like this forever. But he’s lost his momentum, his anger. Instead, he fiddles with his belt, with the button of his pants, pushes them off just enough.
He spits into his hand, probes with his fingers, then lines himself up.
“Not Copia,” he says. “It’s Papa.”
“Papa.”
He nods, pushes forward until his tip slides in. “Again.”
“Papa.”
It’s slow, torturous, the way he fills you one syllable at a time. “Again, tesoro.”
“Papa. Papa.”
Tears well up in his eyes as you repeat the title over and over. He fucks you to forget about them, driving his hips forward despite his pants being in the way. It doesn’t matter if he messes them up, nothing matters but the feeling of being inside of you, your hands clawing at his shirt, your thighs squeezing around him and the stuttering of his heart as his love for you beats a fast, steady rhythm.
But there is this nagging thought as well, the fear that he hasn’t been able to erase from his mind. He rolls his hips, watches your eyes close in pleasure, the title tumbling from your lips like so many nights before. Papa. Papa. Papa. Papa.
“You liked me better too,” he chokes, “when I was Papa.”
He glances away so you don’t see his eyes but a tear slides down his cheek and falls to your nose.
“Look at me,” you whisper. “Please.”
He tries, bites his lip to stop it from trembling. Your fingers are soft when they tilt his chin and he can’t help but allow it. His vulnerability is mirrored in your eyes, all the layers shed, and he can tell he’s been a fool. It has never been pity that he’s seen in your eyes. You do love him.
“Papa, Cardinal, Cardi, C, Frater– It doesn’t matter,” you whisper. “You’re my Copia. I don’t care which title you hold.”
More tears fall from his eyes and to distract you he begins to fuck you again, slow this time but deep, his muscles strung tight every time he meets you. He allows himself to cry, to feel the pain, the relief, and bends down to kiss you, salt on his lips, pouring all of himself into every touch. You moan, beg, cross your legs behind his back to pull him in even deeper. It’s different this time, he can tell.
He’s not your fucking friend.
“Copia,” you whisper against his lips and he knows he can’t last much longer, not when the name falls from your lips so tenderly.
He curses, pushes his hand between your bodies to work you there as well, but you push it aside, merely angling your hips a little differently, keeping him tightly pressed to your body. You whimper, a hand buried in his hair, tight grip, pulling in the way that makes him lose his mind.
“‘m c-close,” you breathe. “Are you going to come with me?”
Tears dry on his cheek, the skin pulling, burning. He finds the last of his strength to grind down, thighs shaking, muscles clenched so tight that they hurt, fighting with himself until you fall apart beneath him. He holds you as close as he can, breaking from the inside, his hips stuttering as he finally lets go. Fresh tears wet his face. They dribble down on you, carrying the sweet release from more than just pleasure. You tremble but your arms close over his shoulders, soft hands caressing the sweat-soaked fabric of his shirt, playing with his hair.
“I love you,” you whisper. “I’ve loved you for so long. I’m so sorry.”
“I know,” he says. “I love you, tesoro.”
He falls weakly on top of you, the tensions of months falling away. It’s okay, he thinks, everything is okay now. You smile and he does the same, trying not to break out in tears and laughter at the same time. He feels like he’s opened himself up, raw and exposed—to the world, to you—in a way that he hasn’t allowed himself before.
“You love me,” he says, watching as one of his tears slides from your nose to your lips. “How do you love me, tesoro? Tell me I’m not your friend.”
“You are my friend,” you say, “but you’re also so much more than that. I should have told you before you left. There is no one else for me.”
He huffs a manic laugh, nods, but the relief drives away any remaining anger, any insecurities. The fight has left him. Now, the aftermath that leads to healing. Copia moves you both into a comfortable position, your face a mere breath away from his.
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you as much as I should have been,” you mumble, wiping steadily at the tears coating his face. He almost wants to cry more, just to feel the soft comfort of your touch, to hear the soothing timbre of your voice.
“It’s okay, tesoro,” he says, an echo from a night so long ago that finally rings true. “It will be fine as long as I have you.”
thank you for reading <3 likes, kudos, comments and reblogs are appreciated but most of all i hope you had fun reading this story!
