hello! i occasionally like to write and here you will find all my fics! most up to date and edited versions are on ao3 but most are published on here too :)
✯|| AO3 || Writing Tag || Art Tag ||✯
I write for The Band Ghost, BG3 (Raphael) and HotD (Otto Hightower)
comments and reblogs are appreciated so very much!!♡
➸The Band Ghost Masterlist
Papa IV | Cardinal Copia | Papa III
I primarily write Dom!Copia in varying degrees of assholeness.
➸House of the Dragon Masterlist
Otto Hightower x Reader
Captain von Trapp x Fraulein Maria
One shot
Words: 4k
Rating: T
tags: ust, absolute cheese & fluff
Something had changed over the last few weeks, after that puppet show. She had managed to tear down his defensive walls but now there was just a strange and confusing labyrinth before her which was somehow more daunting than the defensive and impersonal shield she'd been confronted with when she had first arrived. He was very confusing.
Maria is caught reading something she shouldn't and the Captain cannot help but tease.
Read on AO3
And while he may have been only three and forty, his countenance was harsh and unyielding. Immediately Jane felt as if he were the embodiment of all the things her aunt had warned her of. The man' s face was always as if set in stone, yet his eyes seemed so full of emotion barely restrained. Jane could not deny he was handsome, if formidable, but the man was arrogant and dismissive of her. Here she found herself tormented between listening to her head; which beseeched her to keep her distance and not give the man any reason to speak with her; and the other part of her, that of which she could not assign to her heart or her gut but possibly to the very blood within her veins, the blood that seemed to be as if possessed. Possessed with an unnatural but truly strong desire to seek Lord Crawford out.
It was this unholy possession that caused her to leave the safety of her chambers and slip slowly out into the dark hall. The night had changed Hartfield Manor into a strange and unearthly realm.
During the day it was nothing more than brightly lit corridors and rooms filled with endless portraits and intricate furniture, but in the darkness the shapes merged and became eerie and unnerving. Jane could feel the eyes of the portraits on her as she walked slowly down the dark hall, her feet not making a sound against the heavy rugs. She came to pause at the end of the corridor and looked down the staircase that greeted her. The foyer was dark and she could barely make out anything at all, save for the outline of one door. A light was emitting from the room, it's warm glow spilling out from the cracks. She knew that he would be there. The lord of the manor always seemed to stay up throughout the night, stalking through the halls as if his soul wasn't permitted to rest. And she found she couldn't find fault with it, for he had suffered many torments, if the things her aunt had told her were true. Aunt Clara did not speak of it much, Jane knew she would wish not to betray her employers' trust, but the little she had been told had painted a picture for Jane and it was not a pleasant one. Lord Crawford's father had gone insane and drowned his own wife in the lake, believing her soul to be troubled and had wished to cleanse her. He had blamed it all on demons. Demons within the house. The man had been locked up and the key rightly thrown away. It was told by many locals that Hartfield Manor was haunted. That the lady of the house slept at the bottom of the lake and the old master wandered through the halls, despondent and mad.
It was nonsense, and when her aunt had told her this, Jane had laughed. But her aunt had told her to never be so hasty to laugh in the face of demons. For they may not all have pointy ears - some are much more clever and manage to hide themselves within the self. Aghast at the serious tone of these revelations, Jane has found herself quite unnerved. Lord Henry Crawford seemed quite sane, though she had to admit there was something about him, that undeniable pull that made her wonder if he was capable of madness. The other maids also loved to tell such stories, nattering and whispering away as they worked.
Her musings were cut short when the door she had been staring at suddenly opened and the man walked out. Immediately she backed away but she had dithered and he had been so quick to notice, though she be cast in shadow.
"Who is up there?" said he, his voice barely louder than a whisper but commanding her full attention.
His body was tense and his face set in that of displeasure as his eyes searched.
"I do apologise," said Jane quickly, making her way to the stairs and walking down as she spoke. "I did not mean to disturb you."
"Why are you walking about at this hour?"
She slowly made her towards him, and had quite forgotten about her lack of dress.
"I was merely restless," she supplied, not wishing to be truthful.
He studied her carefully and Jane felt as if that gaze held her in place.
A loud bang echoed through the house and Jane jumped, her body coming into contact with Lord Crawford. She felt the steady grip of his hand on her wrist and felt her face colour at the contact.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "It just frightened me."
"There is no need to be frightened," said the man, his voice right by ear. His warm breath on her skin sent tingles down her spine. "This house is old, but contrary to the stories there are no ghosts."
Jane took a deep breath and tried to steady her nerves. The man was still so close to her and it was affecting her senses. The hand on her arm was still present, his grip light but commanding of strength. His hand left her arm and lifted her chin up to meet his impossible gaze before his mouth was suddenly upon hers—
"Well that is just silly," muttered Maria.
A soft snap and the book was shut, a piece of brown string making itself useful as a bookmark. She placed the book on her bedside table and stared at it. It was nothing but romantic nonsense, she told herself. Ghosts and stupid maids and stupidly handsome men. It was ridiculous! This she knew to be true but Maria was helpless to deny her want of needing to read further.
The book had been hastily confiscated off Liesl not an hour before. While Maria could not have known the contents of the book upon seeing the simply bound cover, the way her eldest charge had immediately gone bright red and tried to thrust the book under her skirts hadn't been innocent behaviour. It had taken less a second for Liesl to guiltily confess that a school friend had lent it to her —said school friend having taken it from her own mother. Maria had simply said she would return it back to its rightful owner and had promised a beseeching Liesl not to mention it to her father —a promise that Maria had hastily agreed to.
While living in a convent may have sheltered Maria from many things, contrary to the Captain's assumption of her person, Maria was not as ignorant of the world as the man appeared to believe. Yes, she could be naive, far too trusting and sometimes easily lead, but she had not been brought up in the abbey. She had only been there a mere year, before that she had been in Vienna learning to teach and before that she had lived on a farm on the outskirts of town with her weary aunt and barbarous uncle. Summers had been spent with friends her own age and while Maria may have spent the better part of her youth climbing up a tree than having young men try and climb up into her own bedroom, there had been a boy or two that had caught her eye. Nothing had ever come of it, for they had never looked twice at her. Covered in dirt and more interested in practising her guitar than practising how to look demure, Maria had very little experience with the opposite sex. However, this did not mean that she was not curious, as she often was, and many of her friends had spent hours giggling over novels just like the one she found herself with now. These impassioned tales had usually been translated from English, and spoke of grand manors surrounded by lush gardens that banked on great seas. Certainly not the sort of decadent tales that someone who had dreams of joining her fellow Sisters at Nonnberg Abbey should not be reading.
A proper postulant would have handed the book straight over to the Captain and confessed everything. However, Maria had no desire to betray Liesl's confidence and the trust she had built with her, and for purely selfish and very unholy reasons, Maria simply wanted to find out what she was missing out on. If only so that could do just as the Reverend Mother had asked of her and discover God's true path. It made sense, Maria told herself.
Perfect sense.
Of course she had to read more, maybe if she read it then she could determine if it was alright for Liesl to do so. So far she had determined that the heroines in these novels were usually quite dim, prone to fainting and altogether too easily swayed by a few words whispered in their ear. The character in this particular story—though Maria was hesitant to call it a story for she could not discern a plot of any kind—was far too prone to swooning when the male lead was in the same room, and even naive and innocent as Maria was, this girl seemed to be even more obtuse than a kitten when it came to matters of the heart.
It made Maria want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Yet, it was horribly addictive. The male lead was, as they always were, charming, arrogant in his own right, attractive and dangerous. It was exciting, and Maria was finding that she could forgive the naive maid Jane for her attraction towards him. Did Maria particularly like that she couldn't help but picture Captain von Trapp? No. But it wasn't her fault that her only real reference for such a man was the father of her charges. And he was so like the lord in the story; very arrogant and charming, in a way.
And very attractive, the little voice in her head supplied.
Oh how she hated that little voice. Mostly because it was so often correct.
Ignoring the little voice, she sighed and snatched the book, openeing it where she left off. Though she hastily shut it again not a few minutes later, her face burning with embarrassment. The stupid heroine was now being intimately devoured on the library rug after being manhandled by the lord of the manor.
Maria sighed and stared up into the ceiling, trying to focus on the shadows cast by her bedside lamp. She glanced at the book again, as if it were a dog that might bite, and face burning and chest rising with each quick breath, snatched it again once more.
It had been a silly thing to do, staying up so late and reading that ridiculous book—Maria knew that Liesl was never getting it back. She told herself she could stop reading it. But it had been impossible to stop until her eyes were too heavy to stay open. It was now afternoon and after a brief visit back at Nonnberg, Mari was now out in the neatly manicured gardens of the house, sprawled on the grass as she continued to read the wickedly good book.
The Reverend Mother had seemed pleased with her progress here at Aigen though slightly bewildered by how tired Maria had been. Sister Berthe had said it was good to see Maria so obviously worn out by the children, it demonstrated how hard she been working—Maria had also heard her muttered comment that a tired Maria was a much more manageable Maria.
She knew the children were out with their Uncle Max, choosing some brand new puppets. Perhaps she should have gone with them, but the call of that book had been too strong and she had so easily waved them goodbye before darting into her room to fetch it.
"I am very glad," came a drawl above her along with a darkening shadow. Maria snapped the book shut and guiltily glanced up to find the Captain standing above her. He smirked down at her before continuing, "that the abbey believe in charity and that I do not pay you to look after my children." The sunlight glinted off his hair and she couldn't but think how handsome he looked. "Because if I did," he continued in a mocking tone, "I would be furious that I was wasting my money letting you dilly dally around reading instead of watching my children." He steepled his hands in front of his face and tapped his nose. "So I am very glad, Fraulein Rainer, that I don't pay you."
Maria shifted and stood up, brushing the grass off her skirts. "If you do not pay me does that mean that as there is no formal agreement between us, no transaction of money and as I am volunteering on behalf of the abbey you cannot, in fact, fire me?"
He stared at her and Maria, with her chin determinedly stuck out and her eyes ready for a fight, stood and waited for him to either a) go on mocking her b) yell c) fling her into the lake or d) all the above. He didn't move. He just grinned at her in that unsettling way before a low sound reverberated around her, and it took Maria a few moments to realise it was laughter.
She glared at him and added, "Besides, the children are with Herr Detweiler. It's my day off."
He smiled. "Ah, yes. Of course, how could I forget." For a moment Maria thought that would be all and he would walk off. Shouldn't he be entertaining the Baroness? Not that she wanted him to, it made her chest feel oddly tight whenever she saw them together. "Now what has captured your elusive attention?"
Maria swallowed awkwardly and clutched the book tighter, trying to subtly put it behind her back.
It was quite a skill he had, she marvelled, that he both managed to make her at ease in his presence and embarrassed. Maria felt as though he was able to see the inner workings of her mind so clearly that they were nothing but an open book he delighted in perusing. While she knew this was not so, it was hard to shake the feeling and so she felt her face suffuse with heat. She could not bear to meet his eyes and found herself admiring the intricate pattern of a leaf by her foot.
"It is nothing but a novel of fancy, Captain," said Maria to the leaf trying to affect an air of casual dismissal and failing momentously.
"Yet you seemed quite enraptured with it." He sounded like he believed her as much as he believed Kurt whenever he said he had brushed his teeth.
She met his amused gaze then, noting the way his lips were curled in yet another infuriating smirk and the way his eyes seemed to dance with mischief. It was quite a different side to the Captain that Maria was slowly beginning to see more of. Something had changed over the last few weeks, after that puppet show. She had managed to tear down his defensive walls but now there was just a strange and confusing labyrinth before her which was somehow more daunting than the defensive and impersonal shield she'd been confronted with when she had first arrived. He was very confusing.
No, that wasn't quite right, the little voice wheedled. She was confused. Whenever he smiled at her for a job well done, it was not the sense of achievement of helping his children that buoyed her but that the smile was for her. It was a giddy feeling and a selfish one. One that she tried to ignore and throw away as she would a pebble into the river. But the horribly delightful feeling had a terrible habit of washing back up on the shore of her own consciousness. Which was only achieving a state of confusion about her own wants.
Maria told herself that all she wanted was to help the von Trapp family and then return to the Abbey so that she could take her vows, all the while mentally flinging pebbles into the deep end of her mind.
"Well, Fraulein?"
"Huh?" Maria said. She hadn't been listening to him at all. "Sorry, Captain, I was distracted."
"Clearly," he said and she could sense the familiar sound of his irritation. Which was good, she strangely preferred the irritation. "The book must be quite good to have you so distracted. I ask again, what is it about?"
"Oh, it's nothing more than a frivolous tale, Captain," said Maria blithely, giving him a large smile. "I am sure it wouldn't interest you at all."
She thought that would be the end of it and so she gave him another smile and sat back down. Surely he would leave now and let her be? But the Captain did no such thing. She was slightly mortified to watch him so elegantly fold himself down to her level and sit next to her on the grass. He had one leg outstretched and the other bent, an arm casually resting on it as he looked at her expectantly. She felt her heart flit about in her chest.
"Why not?" he asked as a slight breeze ruffled his hair.
Oh Lord, Maria thought, please smite me down now. Is this a test? It must be. She blamed the novel for the way her mind flooded with ideas at the sight of his ruffled hair. She wanted to run her fingers through it, it looked so soft and—! The wind blew gently again and she could smell the cologne he wore. Maybe those heroines weren't so silly, Maria felt as if she was going to faint or perhaps explode.
"Fraulein?"
"It's just romance," said Maria with a shrug trying to steel her nerves and push those horrible thoughts away. Why wouldn't he drop it? Why was he sitting on the grass with her? Internally she groaned but aloud she continued, "From the tales Herr Detweiler tells I am sure none of it would be of any interest to you."
The Captain barked out a laugh. "Do you think me devoid of any sentiment?"
"No!" Maria said quickly. " Of course not."
"Ah," he said in tones of mock understanding. "I am sure you think me nothing more than some brutish sailor with too much money."
"I never said such a thing, Captain," Maria said, her brow furrowing. Gosh, she didn't want to offend him. How she wanted to run for her mountain in that moment.
"You didn't need to say it," he said, unaware of her inner turmoil. "I assure you that there is no truth to the scandalous stories Max tells. At least not anymore." That mischievous look glinted in his eyes again. "I do have children after all."
Maria scoffed at that. "I know that one does not need to be a romantic in order to have children. You just need—"
"Vigour?"
Face burning, Maria looked away. Hastily taking a deep breath, she merely shook her head. He was just teasing her, she knew that. But she couldn't help but react to him.
"You take too much delight in mocking me," she said.
"You make it far too easy," he replied smoothly. "Where did you even get such a book? I'm sure it's not the sort of literature housed in Nonnberg."
"Um, a housemaid lent it to me," said Maria, glancing off towards the lake and avoiding his eye.
"Hmm." She felt him move and looked back to see he held out a hand and was looking at her seriously. "I think you best give that to me and I can return it to the...housemaid. I do think it best that it's not in your room, a room that my young daughters are often in."
Maria simply nodded and handed it to him in defeat. She watched him unfold himself until he was standing, a hand brushing away some grass off his trousers before he swiftly turned around and marched back towards the terrace.
With a sigh, Maria flopped back down on the grass and watched a single cloud drift by. She sent a single prayed to the Lord that was simply:
"Please don't let him read it."
The Captain said nothing later that evening, though when the children had returned with their new puppets and there was all the talk of the upcoming party, there was hardly any time. But then he said nothing the next day nor the one after that. Maria hoped the offending novel had found itself in a forgotten drawer and had been forgotten. But it was a week later when Maria was having her evening debrief over the children that she saw the book again.
"Here," said the Captain, sliding the novel across his desk. She glanced at it warily and then back up at him. "While you may be lacking in certain aspects of childcare, I don't think you would leave this anywhere where my daughters could find it."
Maria took the book and glanced down at the piece of string hanging out of it.
"Did you read any of it?" she blurted and felt her cheeks warm at the small smile that tugged at his lips.
"I may have read a few passages," he said and she noted the smile that hung around the corner of his mouth. "I was curious as to what would capture the attention of a postulant."
Maria has been embarrassed before, quite a lot as a child. And well, Sister Berthe was always making an example out of her. But this was a different sort of feeling. Her cheeks, she was certain, were pink and her palms felt sweaty.
"It was merely an exercise," Maria said, idly trying to wipe her hands on her dress.
"In what exactly?" came the Captain's probing question as he lent forward on his desk, hands clasped together.
"Before I came here," began Maria slowly, "the Reverend Mother said I needed to know if taking my vows was the life I was born to live. I was simply reading this in order to gain a better understanding of the so-called joys that I would be missing out on."
There, she had maintained a coolly dismissive tone and sounded perfectly fine and normal.
"And what have you learnt so far?" asked the Captain.
Maria gave an unladylike snort. "I don't feel I have learnt anything."
"Nothing?" he asked.
"Hmm," said Maria dramatically. "Well, I suppose I know how to faint in a very lady like manor if I think I see a ghost and that running around in your underthings in the middle of the night invites…vigorous activities." She felt her face flush at her own bold words but still she kept his gaze, determined not to be cowed.
"Lucky for you there are no ghosts in this house," said the Captain airily. "Though I cannot promise a lack of midnight rendezvous for anyone wandering about this house in the middle of the night."
Maria couldn't hide her shock. Was he really saying what she thought he was saying? The blush started somewhere in her toes as she curled them in her shoes.
"I—Captain!" was all she managed to say.
He waggled an admonishing finger in her face. "You can deny it all you like, Fraulein, but I know that Liesl has been sneaking off to see that delivery boy." He sighed. "She is not the first to clamber down that trellis and she won't be the last." The Captain gave her a small smile. "I know what teenage girls are like, having been on the other end of the trellis. But I think we should perhaps keep Liesl away from such activities, hmm?"
Maria realised her mouth had dropped open and hastily closed it before giving him an emphatic nod. "Yes, Captain."
He smiled at her again, as if he knew some secret—as if they shared some secret—and Maria took that as her cue to leave. It wouldn't be until after the party that Maria truly understood what that secret was.
A/N Sound of Music? Yes, Sound of Music. This was the first fandom I wrote fanfic for and most of this story was written in 2019 (yeah I know). I had a heart wrenching hit of nostalgia when looking in my old Google Docs (which is basically a graveyard of multiple unfinished TSoM fics, along with many other fandoms).
Anyway, Maria being caught with a book was always one of my favourite tropes and I just wanted to write something a little lighthearted.
author’s note: 18+! mdni! exactly what it sounds like… thank you ghost for releasing a chapter and making me crank out 1.5k words of frater filth. ao3 link.
Frater Imperator has been increasingly irritable the closer the new tour dates and album approaches. To add fuel to the fire, he’s been waiting on his new office space to be complete and he’s currently camped out in an unoccupied room that is unequipped for his role. He's been having angry outbursts, peppered with expletives, as his frustration mounts. The shift away from being in the spotlight seems to be wearing on him particularly hard. Despite the rising tensions, the ghost project continues to progress with Frater's twin taking the lead.
The Staff are caught in the middle.
You’re a transplant from America, having fled due to the increasingly hostile environment. But now that you’re there, there is so much pressure. Most days you return to your quarters with your head spinning, unsure of how things will all tie together in time. And you feel bad for him — of course you do. Frater feels tossed aside but he *is* important and on good days, he’s a sweet man. Always asking about family and pets, how you’re feeling, if you’re enjoying the weather…
But you're starting to see another side of him lately. Change is in the air.
“Your habit is, eh, shorter today, Sister.” His gaze falls to your legs, his voice more rough than you’re used to. It pulls you from your work, collating production packets for the tour crew. Your hands immediately fall to your hem to tug it down, though you know it won’t do much. The thick fabric barely shifts an inch.
You try to keep your voice steady as you reply, "Laundry was backed up this week, Frater. This was all that was available."
He tsks, his eyes still wandering over your exposed flesh. "Come here." Frater beckons for you to come closer, his hand outstretched in a gesture that leaves no room for refusal. Despite your apprehension, your feet carry you forward until you stand before the couch he's using as a temporary workspace. His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, and you can't help but notice how his fingers twitch against the bright yellows cushions.
“I’ve been… thinking that perhaps I need some… stress relief. Only seems fair that you help me… unwind." His voice drops an octave, sending a shiver down your spine as he pats his thigh in invitation.
A darker side had always lurked within him. When he first arrived as Cardinal, glimpses of it surfaced, though they faded as he settled into his role. But now, as his former comforts are stripped away, that cruelty and hunger for control began seeping through the cracks once more. Trapped in this temporary space with him, you feel that same darkness reaching for you.
Hesitantly, you begin to move toward his lap. How could you say no to Frater Imperator? You would be lying to yourself if you hadn’t thought about him in this way.
He shakes his head slowly, a wolfish smile spreading across his face. "No no, Sister. Across my lap." You freeze, eyes widening until his hands take you by the waist, ultimately guiding you until you're bent over his thighs. Your habit rides up further, a heavy palm resting against the small of your back to keep you in place.
"Such a pretty thing," he murmurs, more to himself than to you. His free hand traces idle patterns along your thigh, each touch making you shiver. "But you've been distracting me. Making it so hard to focus."
You bite your tongue, wanting to point out that you aren’t the cause for all of this chaos. But all the same, your heart races as you feel the press of his fingers through thin fabric. Something in his tone, in the way he holds you here, tells you there's little point in protesting. And truthfully, some part of you doesn't want to.
The leather of his gloved fingers skim the hem of your habit, pushing the fabric up to reveal black lace underwear. He exhales sharply at the sight. His palm smooths over the curve of your backside, the cool material rubbing over your flushed skin. The touch is both possessive and exploratory, making your breath catch in your throat.
"Tell me, Sister, have you been thinking about this too?"
Your throat is dry, trying to swallow and find your voice, but all that comes out is a shaky gasp as his fingers continue to explore. Your hips shift against his thigh, drawing a sinister chuckle from above. Another sharp crack of leather against skin echoes through the room as his palm connects with your already burning cheek. You cry out this time, the pain less starting than before.
"Such lovely sounds you make," he purrs, beginning to alternate between gentle, probing caresses and stinging, harsh spanks. Tears begin to sting the corners of your eyes.
“Who is your Papa?”
The question hangs in the air. You’re new, having not been around when he *was* Papa but you know better. You know not to disappoint him now, not when he quite literally has you over his knee.
"You are, Papa..."
“Good girl.”
He delivers one final resounding slap to your tender backside, the sharp sting making you gasp and arch against him. Your eyes are squeezed shut, ragged gasps falling from your lips. He coos, shushing you as he delicately runs his fingers along the edge of your underwear. You relax in his lap for a moment until he’s moving you, firmly gripping your hips to shift you upright. His strength surprises you, effectively positioning you so that you’re straddling his lap.
The evidence of his arousal is unmistakable beneath your dampened panties, his pants visibly straining between your thighs.
“You’ve been in need of some relief, haven’t you? I’ve seen you around the Ministry… always so tense, hm?” His gloved hands splay possessively across your ass cheeks again, kneading the sensitive skin that's still warm from his earlier attention. Frater guides you forward, encouraging you to gently rock your hips against him.
“*Oh*…” you groan out, clutching his shoulders as waves of pleasure crash through you. His hands directing your movements, setting a steady rhythm that’s smooth compared to the harshness of how he spanked you. His eyes have glazed over, lips parted slightly as his hands squeeze your ass tighter. You can feel every breath he takes, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath your palms. A soft groan escapes his throat as you grind down particularly hard.
"Do you like this, Sister? Do you enjoy being used like this by your Papa?” His voice is strained with need, his eyes boring into your own.
"Y-yes... yes, Papa," you stammer breathlessly, your voice trembling with a mixture of desire and fear.
His hands slide up to grip your waist, just feeling you as you start to lose yourself. You begin to roll your hips against him, a sick kind of need filling you. His grip on you loosens, allowing you to get what you need from him without restraint. A deep, almost inhuman growl rumbles from his chest. You find your eyes start to close, your mouth dropping open in a silent moan as your thighs start to tense.
Frater’s hand suddenly has you, gloved fingers digging into your cheeks to force your eyes open. You come undone with a whimper. His hips buck up against you as he reaches his own climax with a strangled groan, the evidence of his release dampening the front of his tailored pants.
The both of you are in limbo for just a moment. Your head swims as you try to catch your breath, still straddling his lap. Your thighs quiver with aftershocks as he smooths his gloved hands over your hips in soothing circles. The room feels too warm, too close, but you can't bring yourself to move just yet, until he begins to shift you off of his lap.
"Thank you, baby. I needed that." His voice sounds lighter now, almost back to normal as he helps you stand. "Go home for the night, yes? Get some sleep. I want you back here first thing tomorrow—looking fresh and ready for our morning meeting." He flashes you that charming smile, the one that makes you forget the darkness that lurked in his eyes just moments ago.
"Yes, Frater.” You turn toward the door, legs still trembling from the evening's activities. The heat from your spanking still radiates through your body, and you're acutely aware of the wetness between your legs.
"Ah! Before you go..." He catches your wrist, stopping you. "Leave your panties with me."
A flush rises to your cheeks as you comply, hooking your thumbs under the damp lace and sliding them down your legs. The fabric catches slightly on your shoes before you manage to step out of them. Your hands tremble slightly as you place the black lace panties into his waiting palm.
His fingers curl around them possessively, and he brings them to his nose, inhaling deeply. "Such a good girl for Papa," he murmurs, tucking them into his pocket. "Now run along."
You *hurry* from his temporary office on shaky legs with a sore ass.
These fics are mostly Copia focused and I write him as dom with an acerbic and mostly terrible personality. All readers are fem!reader and are not named. I do not use Y/N.
If you like Vincent Price, you may like my Copia.
Please read warnings for each fic!
18+ MDNI
Inflight Meal
Papa IV x FemReader
Rating: E
As an air hostess you are used to strange people, especially when they have their own private jet. but this was definitely the strangest one.
AO3
Tear You Apart
Papa IV x FemReader
Rating: E
Chapters: 2 of 2
There were four things you had not expected when you had decided to break into the old abbey on a particular full moon: 1. That it would actually be inhabited 2. That it would be inhabited by people performing a satanic ritual 3. That you would end up being chased through the woods by a satanic madman 4. That you would enjoy it
AO3
Nocturnal Me
(Dracopia)Papa IV x FemReader
Rating: E
The Haze is open from sunset until sunrise every day of the week. Some people, like you, order a margarita with a silly little cocktail umbrella shoved in it and a slice of lemon.
Others order the AB negative and should drink it quickly before it congeals.
AO3
➸Corrupted/Evil Papa IV
there’s total depravity (standing right in front of me)
(Dark) Papa IV x FemReader
Rating: E
As a maid, I tended to pass by unnoticed. Nobody really cared who made their beds or cleaned their clothes—as long as it was done. And I should have just done my job and left.
But I didn't. And now I was stuck here at the mercy of the Fourth.
AO3
Nothing Ever Lasts Forever
(Corrupted) Papa IV x FemReader
Rating: E
“You still wear his paint.” Not a question. Just a statement. He hardly ever asked questions. There were orders, demands, requests—not to be denied. “He is dead, sorella.”
The Emeritus line is finished. There is a new Papa now to serve, but you are hesitant to throw your loyalty and love aside.
But he gives you no choice.
AO3
A Discordant Melody
Cardinal Copia x FemReader, Papa IV x FemReader
Copia and Papa are two separate characters
Rating: E
Chapters: 1 of 2
“Maybe this place is cursed.” I wrapped an arm around Copia’s and pressed myself close, delighting in his warmth and the way he smelled. It reassured me and I pressed my lips against his cheek. “You will have to keep me very close, darling, lest some ghoul tries to steal me away.”
I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped my lips and I smiled when I noticed the tips of his ears had gone pink. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad—and it wasn’t as if we were staying here.
Inheriting an old abbey in a supposedly cursed town, what could possibly go wrong?
AO3
➸Daddy Dom Papa
La Principessa di Papa
Papa IV x FemReader
Rating: E
After days of being sick in bed, you’re feeling restless. But Papa is always there to look after his little principessa.
AO3
Il Cuore Della Principessa
Papa IV x FemReader
Rating: E
Overworked and exhausted, Papa insists you take a break.
AO3
➸drabbles/ficlets
(not on ao3)
listening to Papa read while you lie on his lap
(sfw, 600 words, any Papa)
Copia comes home late to find his princess asleep on the couch (mostly sfw, 800 words, Papa IV
➸ Misadventures in the Ministry (Series)
This series involves the same reader. You don't need to read them in order but it’s better if you do. This reader is not the sharpest sacrificial dagger in the abbey but she does her best.
Freshly Squeezed (Part One)
Cardinal Copia x FemReader
Rating: E
A secret passageway. A far too ditzy curious reader. And a very naked Cardinal.
Hmm.
AO3
A Lesson in Heroinism (Part Two)
Cardinal Copia x FemReader
Rating: E
They say Cardinal Copia is a vampire but you don't believe that…do you?
AO3
➸ Other Stories
Lessons in Pleasure
Cardinal Copia x Maid FemReader
Rating: M (will be E)
Chapters: 1/3
Being Cardinal Copia’s personal maid is not an easy task…but it’s not all terrible.
AO3
The Wager
Cardinal Copia x FemReader
Rating: E
A new Sister of Sin, you feel you are not living up to the expectations of your new church and seek out confession to unburden yourself. Little do you know, that the Cardinal has something he needs to confess to you.
AO3
The Mark of the Beast
Cardinal Copia x FemReader
Rating: E
Chapters: 2 of 2
An imposter has apparently been hiding in the abbey, and there is only one way to prove you're part of the congregation. And that is to submit yourself to an examination to find Lucifer's mark upon your body.
AO3
a little nightmarish, a little maudlin (good golly go get this kid some laudanum!)
(Dracopia) Cardinal Copia x FemReader
Rating: E
Chapters: 2 of 2
A storm hits while on your way home from a party and your coach breaks down. Surely the church you passed by will offer shelter until you can safely return home?
AO3
Our Merge Is Eternal
(Vampire) Papa III x FemReader
Rating: M
Chapters: 2 of 3
Something is not quite right, it makes her stomach twist with a sick sort of anticipation. She should stay right here, she should not leave the library—she definitely should not follow the Cardinal. But if she doesn't, she will never know. Her mother always said curiosity killed the cat, but Cora knew satisfaction brought it back.
(on hiatus)
Hi hi I just wanted to pop in and say how much I love your writing and especially how you write Copia! He's always a little smug, teasing, and so playful. I read most of your fics on ao3 (multiple times hehe) long before coming to tumblr and wanted to spread the love here! - unholyguleh 💖
oh thank you so much, that’s so sweet of you! I’m glad you enjoy my fics and my Copia - he’s basically just Vincent Price in paint hahaha 😅
Cardinal Copia x Maid f!Reader
Chapter: 2/3
Words: 3.2k (5.9k total)
Rating: M - will change
tags: kissing, blindfolds, teasing, power imbalance
L'Arte Del Piacere.
Your eyes flick back to him and he is still grinning at you.
“‘The Art of Pleasure’,” he translates. “I have some time to spare, perhaps a lesson?”
“A lesson?” you repeat, coming down the ladder and moving towards his desk. “I don’t need a lesson.”
Being Cardinal Copia’s personal maid is not an easy task…but it’s not all terrible.
read on ao3 | chapter one
The next day you manage to clean his office without a single interruption—a blessing. You had moved onto his sleeping quarters and were so close to being done for the day. All you had to do was finish changing his towels and make sure the candles were lit before he returned. The infuriating man insisted on fresh candles in the bedroom every evening even though the room was fitted perfectly well with electric light. You were certain that he did it on purpose—once he had even made you return because the wicks hadn’t been trimmed properly!
You hear the door unlock and the unmistakable tap of the Cardinal’s shoes as he enters. Your arms are full of his dirty towels and you spot him lounging in one of his ridiculously gothic wing back chairs as you come out of his bedroom.
“Can you please fetch me some wine, mia dolce?” he asks, his voice a low purr as he removes his black biretta and places it on the little table next to him. A gloved hand smooths his dark hair back as he gives you his little tiger smile.
“Can’t you get it yourself?” you say, throwing his dirty towels in the large laundry basket you have sitting on your cleaning trolley. “I still have to finish in the bathroom.”
“Pah, you would make an old man get up?”
“You are not an old man,” you say, grabbing the fresh towels from the bottom of the trolley. “Besides, I saw you stalking down the hall earlier today and terrifying some poor novice just fine.”
“My knees are aching terribly though.” You glare at him as he adds, “On account of the stalking.”
You sigh as you place the towels back and trudge over to his ridiculously ornate cabinet full of wine bottles. You can see there is a crystal decanter in there already half full so you carefully open the door and take it out, placing it on the sideboard before grabbing a glass. You fill it and then stick it right under his stupid large nose.
“There you go.”
You get halfway towards the bathrooms before his lilting voice calls out.
“Oh, mia carissima e dolcissima ragazza?”
Turning on your heel, you say through gritted teeth, “Yes, Your Eminence?”
“I left my book on the table, can you bring it?” he asks, that expression on his face daring you to disobey. He points to the table near his desk. “Per favore.”
Quickly you walk over and scan the table, it’s mostly bare save for some ledgers, some letters and one single book.
It’s the book you had been looking at last week. Surely a coincidence, you tell yourself as you grab the book and walk back to him, nearly flinging it in his face in your hurry. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles his little devil smile as he sips his wine. You spin back around on your heel and walk back to the bedroom—making it into the bathroom before his voice calls out again. You chuck the towels on the bathroom's marble countertop and stick your head out of the bedroom door.
“Yes?”
“I also left the chocolates on my desk, can you get them for me, il mia dolce angelo?”
“I’m not your m—“
He raises a brow.
“—personal servant,” you finish lamely.
You glare at him and he just keeps smiling back at you. Gritting your teeth and fighting the urge to strangle him, you walk over to his desk and open the drawers at random until you find the chocolate box. Your stomach rumbles and your mouth waters at the thought of the sweets nestled within.
When you pass them to him, he says, “Would you like one, la mia bella ragazza?”
Your eyes narrow. “Yes, I would like one—but I am not letting you play whatever perverted quid pro quo game you have in mind just for some chocolate.” You cross your arms. “And stop calling me names! I can’t understand you.”
“I’m not calling you names, tesero. I’m only calling you the sweetest of things, I promise.” He grins. “Quanto è velenosa la tua lingua, eppure so che la mia presto assaporerà la dolcezza della tua fica.”
“I can’t understand you.”
“I was just remarking on how sweet you are,” he says smoothly, popping a chocolate in his wicked mouth. You scowl at him, not trusting a single word. “Now, would you care for a chocolate, la mia cuero?” He smirks, tilting the box enticingly. “No tricks.”
Carefully you eye him, trying to work out how he could trick you. But it was impossible to read Cardinal Copia. You sigh and say, “Yes.”
You watch a gloved hand rummage within the box before plucking out one of the perfectly crafted chocolates and passing it to you. The sweet scent barely has time to fill your nose before you shove it greedily into your mouth. It melts on your tongue, chocolate and butter and liquor bursting together and making fireworks burst across your tastebuds. It’s already gone before you can truly enjoy it and leaves you desperate for more. You eye the box hungrily but say nothing. You wouldn’t beg, not for chocolate nor his kiss.
“You eat like a starved beast,” he remarks in mock disgust, “what a waste of my fine chocolate.”
“Huh?” you mutter as you reluctantly move back to your trolley.
He waves a hand. “You don’t savour it, Signorina.”
It’s a damn tiny piece of chocolate! How the hell can you savour it?
“Before you leave,” he drawls as you move to finally put his fresh towels away. “You must tell me which page captured your attention, if you need me to translate I’m happy to help…I’m also happy to demonstrate as well.”
Ugh. You groan. “Cardinal, I need no translations or demonstrations…or lectures about how to eat chocolate!”
An eyebrow is raised in response—you swear he practised in the mirror to get it so perfectly able to communicate derisive disbelief with such minimal effort. You wish you had never had any of those damn chocolates. You could still be perfectly content to eat your cheap box of sweets and not have to suffer through these ridiculous games with Cardinal Copia. A little voice in your head, the little voice that sounds too much like the infuriating man, remarks that you enjoy it. You mentally shake your head.
“It’s just sex,” you say. You wave a hand irritably. “It’s all the same in the end. Just like chocolate.”
“La mia angelo,” says Copia, his voice full of mock pity as he sips his wine, “I didn’t realise your education was so lacking. Clearly, nobody has been worshipping at your altar of Venus appropriately.”
“My what?”
“Altar of Venus, la mia luna e le mie stelle.” You make a face and he chuckles. “No? How about honeypot? Quivering quim? Pink purse?”
“Please stop talking,” you mutter.
“You prefer more straight to the point, la mia luna?” He smirks, that devilish look in his eye sparkling as he leans forward. “Cunt?”
You flush at his crass language but try not to let it show.
“My sex life is none of your concern nor business,” you say.
The man ignores your words, a smug look on his face as he continues speaking. “The anticipation can sometimes surpass the act itself.” You think this is the sort of voice he uses on the Siblings during their satanic classes. “Savouring it—like you would a wine…or fine chocolate.”
You stare at him blankly. How you wanted to say you were tired of his little games, and you were…a little. But what were you really going to do when you left his quarters? You know you’d drop your things off in the laundry and then make your way to the servant's dormitories for the night. There was half of a bottle of wine waiting for you and a cheap box of chocolates, and while that would curb the sweet tooth it would not satiate the desire for something more robust and satisfying.
Besides all that, Cardinal Copia was entertaining. Arrogant, overbearing and smug. But entertaining.
“Is that so?” you finally say.
“Care for a demonstration, dolcezza mia?” he purrs.
Your face suffuses with heat but before you can respond, he clarifies, “The chocolate, Signorina.”
You shift on your feet. Truly what could be so bad? Humour the old man—that’s what you tell yourself anyway. It has nothing to do with the memory of his hands on your legs.
“Fine,” you say, his face now looking delightfully devilish as he takes a sip of his wine. “But you are not to try and ‘kiss’ me at all. This is about chocolate and nothing else.”
The man unfolds himself from his chair, clearly miraculously cured from whatever ailed him—though you choose to keep your mouth shut.
“Please, sit,” he says, gesturing at his chair, “I will stop as soon as you say the word. No kisses, I promise.”
You sit, waiting not so patiently for him. The seat is large and warm, you feel swallowed by it as you place yourself on the edge of the seat. It’s much more comfortable than it looks but you feel too highly strung to lean back into it fully, not trusting the devious man in front of you.
“Close your eyes,” says Copia and with a little reluctance and a lot of anticipation, you obey.
There’s the sound of rummaging and then fabric slipping against itself. You feel something cool and silky pressing against your closed eyelids and temples—a silk tie? The Cardinal never wore ties…a cravat? It must be. He had those black and blood-red ones all neatly folded in his wardrobe. The silk is soft and so smooth and it glides against your face and tightens as he ties it at the back of your head. It smells like him, cologne and incense clinging to it and slowly wafting down to greet your senses. It’s oddly comforting, and so is the lack of sight. No matter how you acted in front of him, it was easier not to have to look at him.
“So tightly wound, dolce,” he mutters, walking behind you. “They must work you to the bone, poor dear.”
You smile, unable to help it. “Yes, they do. My boss is very pedantic and overly critical.”
“What an awful bastardo.” You can hear the grin in his voice. “He must always have you on your hands and knees.”
“Always.”
“Hmm.”
His fingers trail against the back of your neck and your skin prickles delightfully in response as you feel him stand next to you. It’s barely there but you’re so hyper-aware of him that your body is alight with such a simple touch. His hands settle on your shoulders, the warmth and weight of them reassuring but also maddening. You’re supposed to relax but how can you? His hands rub slowly, a shiver running down your spine before his thumbs dig in and press against the straining muscles there. It makes your body release whatever tension you’d been holding, and you relax further when both thumbs slide up with the same pressure up your neck to press into the base of your skull. Your shoulders drop and you lean back into the chair with a sigh.
The Cardinal let out a low laugh above you. “That’s a little better.”
He removed his hands and you internally sigh at the loss of contact. But you forget about his hands as soon as you smell the chocolate before it touches your lips, your mouth salivating. You greedily open your mouth and snatch it from his fingers like a starved cat. There’s a light tap on your nose and the blindfold is removed to reveal Copia’s irritated expression.
“A beast, la mia volpe!” He tuts at you and taps you on the nose again with his gloved fingers. “You may have one more but take more care.”
The box of chocolates appears in front of you, a hand now proffering it in front of you. You scan the rows of beautifully crafted chocolate until you spy one in the shape of a heart and pick it out.
“Stealing my heart are we, la mia stella?”
“I didn’t think there was one to steal,” you say, moving to place the sweet in your mouth but his other hand grabs your wrist to stop you before taking it out of your fingers. “You said I could have another!”
The man grins and places the box down on the side table. You go to stand but he’s right in front of you, sinking down on his knees once more at your feet, placing you both at eye level. He shuffles in close, looking like the devil with his little tempting chocolate in one hand and that devious look on his face. He manages to slide himself between your legs, making you thankful for how long your working dress is. You are so aware of him that you find yourself holding your breath. He doesn’t seem to notice—or if he does, he doesn’t care—that he’s placed himself too intimately between your thighs.
His gloved fingers are before you, the little chocolate held between the leather before it moves towards your lips. You open your mouth, eyes fixed on his and softly bite into it. The sweet and velvety taste of chocolate ganache melts on your tongue making you hum in pleasure. You lean forward to take the rest of it, but the bastard pulls his hand away.
“Give me a kiss and you can have the rest,” he says, voice a lilting taunt.
You smile back at him. “Okay.”
Quickly you lean forward and plant a quick kiss on the tip of his large nose before leaning back with a satisfied grin. “There you go.”
“That isn’t what I meant, dolce,” he says disapprovingly.
“You shouldn’t have been so vague then, Cardinal,” you reply. “I thought you would know better.”
His moustache twitches. “Very good.”
You eye the chocolate in his fingers and without another thought grab it and shove it in your mouth with a victorious moan as it sweetly coats your tongue. The man in front of you tuts disapprovingly and you catch the look in those odd eyes of his.
Oops.
“Now that was just rude, la mia piccola volpe,” he says, voice low as he leans forward.
Subconsciously you lean back until you are pressed into the plushness of the chair and his hands find themselves on your arms, sliding up until they are holding your face. Your heart races as he comes closer, the fabric of his pelegrina ghosting against you. His lips are so close to yours that you can feel his breath—sweetened by wine and chocolate—against your own. Your gaze drops and your breathing falters a moment in anticipation but he doesn’t move, merely hovers there and when your eyes flick up to his, that odd eye of his eerily bright, you swallow nervously.
“You owe me a kiss, dolce,” he murmurs.
Your lips part to speak but nothing comes out and you shut them, though you can’t help but wet your lips. You close the distance, pressing your lips against his. He still doesn’t move, instead, he keeps still until with your heart racing you pull back.
That was fine. You survived a kiss. However, there is a lingering feeling of disappointment at his lack of response.
“You told me no kisses,” he says, as though reading your thoughts, “and I am a man of my word.”
“Well…just one,” you say before hastily adding, “on my mouth, nowhere else.”
He leans forward again, his nose brushing the skin just below your ear. “Not here?”
You shake your head and try not to squirm as tingles shoot down your neck from the touch. “No.”
You feel him move, breath skittering against your skin and causing another delightful rush to run down your spine when you feel his sideburns tickle the side of your jaw, you feel a hand skim the side of your breast. “And not here?”
“No,” you say, the word barely audible.
The hand moves down your side, his leather glove gliding against your dress the only sound as you hold your breath. His hand moves slowly but deliberately, his thumb dragging across the top of your thigh until it stops a hairs breadth away from your cunt. Your dress is thick but the feel of his hand burns through the layers and you cant help but squeeze your legs together.
“And not here I suppose,” he whispers, lips so close to your neck you can almost feel them.
You let the breath you’ve been holding out. “N-No.”
His face is back in front of yours and you can’t stand the intense look in those eyes so you close your own. Those sneaky hands of his have managed to pin you in against the lounge as he leans over you. Your own hands are gripping your apron. When his lips finally touch yours again, you sigh. His kiss is much softer than you’d expect it to be and you fall into it with ease, as the chocolate had in your own mouth. Your lips part at his insistence and the softness is replaced with urgency as he dominates your mouth, but you return his fire as you respond in kind. Earlier he had managed to relax you with his touch but now your stomach is twisted with the tension of want as you’re engulfed by the Cardinal and his fiery touch.
Finally, you have to part to catch your breath, your chest rising rapidly as you take in his darkened expression—though he manages to smirk at you. Your hands go to grab his shoulders and bring his lips to yours once more but with a low laugh, he leans back on his heels.
“Only one kiss, la mia bella ragazza, that’s all you owe me.” He stands, offering his hand to you so that you can do so as well.
You try not to wobble on your feet, your head still reeling from his wicked mouth. Trying to regain control, you smooth your dress down and clear your throat. Casually, or at least you try to act it, you give him a blithe smile and say, “Of course.”
The devil winks at you and gently guides you towards your little trolley of supplies and your hands grab the handlebar gratefully.
“I do apologise for keeping you so long, my girl.” He gives you a little pat on the shoulder.
As you go to leave, you hear him call out to you, making you turn with your hand hovering over the doorknob.
“Yes, Cardinal?”
“If you want more chocolate you only have to ask.”
You nod and leave, the sight of his arrogant face burned into your eyes. The bastard.
mia carissima e dolcissima ragazza - my dearest and sweetest girl
Il mia dolce angelo - my sweet angel
la mia bella ragazza - my beautiful girl
Quanto è velenosa la tua lingua, eppure so che la mia presto assaporerà la dolcezza della tua fica - How poisonous your tongue is, yet I know that mine will soon taste the sweetness of your cunt
la mia luna e le mie stelle - my moon and stars
la mia cuero - my heart
dolcezza mia - my sweetness
la mia piccola volpe - my little vixen
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