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Listen even if Tobingle Farthingale kills Copia I’m still gonna resurrect that bitch and bounce on it in my mind palace, nobody can stop me and I can’t be controlled
You're not the only member of the clergy with a crush on the new Cardinal.
Siblings speak highly of him, and even the elder ghouls seem drawn to his presence. His intensity radiates from his very being. The mark of the Old One manifests in a white eye that shines sinful wisps of light.
This eye was what set him apart from the rest, the eye that only a potential Papa Emeritus could have. It's as if it can peer directly into your soul, reading your deepest thoughts and desires and tucking them away into its pocket.
His sermons are nothing short of passionate, delivered with a passion that ignites the congregation. All want to be in his presence. All want the chance to be seen by him.
You’re easily pulled into his orbit.
You find yourself eagerly volunteering for tasks you once found mundane to have a chance to speak with him and tell him how inspired you are by him.
Today, you're lighting candles in front of the newly unveiled stained glass portrait of the Ministry's dearly departed Papas. It depicts them in their full regalia. Papa Emeritus the First stands tall, his thurible in hand, smoke twisting around the brothers. Papa Emeritus the Third is captured mid-sermon, the light reflecting on the golden details of his robes. Papa Emeritus II flanks him with his staff, his face drawn in an intense scowl, his eyes somehow still burning.
You hear the snapping of the candles’ flames and the thought dawns on you that no one else is here. No one else setting up the stations for mass, no one else preparing the sacred vestments.
The realization makes you nervous.
It’s unusual.
The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as the room fills with the sound of slow, clicking steps.
You know who it is.
The nave lights dim with his mere presence.
"Such devotion," his familiar voice hisses behind you, sending a shiver down your spine. You turn to see the Cardinal in all his unholy glory, his cassock black as the shadows that surround both of you. He moves closer, sweet-smelling smoke filling the air around you. The white eye seems to glow, shining through you to the stained glass. ”While your dedication is admirable, we mustn't dwell much on the past."
Slowly, he reaches past you, his arm barely grazing yours as he pinches out one of the flames. The wisp of smoke resembles his eye for a moment before floating off.
"The future holds so much more potential, doesn't it?"
He blows the rest of the candles out.
“Yes, Cardinal,” your voice cracks.
The future, a current theme of his sermons: “to focus on what lies ahead rather than what has already passed,” as he would say. His gaze is intense, settling on you with such force that you dare not look away. “Is there something else I could be doing?”
This is the first time you’ve found yourself alone with the Cardinal, and from the gossip of the clergy, this type of thing does not happen often. Silence passes between you, though there’s some kind of whirr in the air. Tension. Perhaps you’re imagining it, but it’s difficult to think he wants anything else other than…
Hey! Your Copia/virgin reader was so hot 🥵 Would you be willing to do a follow up where Copia teaches reader how to give a blowjob? I think he’d be very sweet and gentle at first before eventually losing control, but that’s just my opinion so I’d love to know what you think!
Hi! I'm so glad you liked it! Honestly, even if you hadn't asked this, I had a feeling it was something that I was gonna have to revisit. I enjoyed writing a very different side/version of Copia than usual and I was very happy to explore it a bit more. I don't know if much "teaching" happens in this, but they definitely both enjoy themselves ;)
Here is part 1 if anyone has not read it: this can be enjoyed without though.
Cardinal Copia x f!reader - You give your first blowjob to the Cardinal. dom!copia who tries his best to control himself ~1.3k words, Explicit, 18+ MDNI.
You had learned a lot about the Cardinal since that night - how and where he liked to be touched, the way his legs would shake when he was close and every filthy thing to whisper in his ear to get him there. You knew he liked to be in control, but he loved it when you tried to take over.
Your confidence had grown, but you still had so much to learn and Copia was a willing teacher. He tried so hard to be patient and you were grateful, but you could still recognise when he was holding back for your benefit. There was part of you that relished his pained whines as he restrained himself; the other part of you was desperate for him to snap.
On your knees in front of him, your hands caressing his thighs as he sat on the bed, a familiar flash of uncertainty coloured your eyes as you looked up at him. The way he bit into his lip made it clear that your remaining innocence was far from an issue - 'enthusiasm can always make up for a lack of experience' was a sentiment he had repeated to you throughout your burgeoning relationship, and it had been a very effective means of encouragement.
You knew, by now, that a little hesitation and clumsiness wasn't a bad thing - in fact, it seemed to wind Copia even tighter to the point you sometimes contemplated leaning into it even more. He would probably be able to tell, but would that matter? Right now, however, you didn't need to pretend.
Eyes trained on his face above you, you start with some tentative licks to his tip. Then a little lower. Then a little firmer. A little more tongue for a little longer. Your hand grips the base as your mouth explores, each lick and kiss growing in confidence.
"Talk to me. Tell me what feels good?" You ask softly, and notice Copia's jaw tighten.
"Of course, my angel," he breathes. "So good already…"
His praise reverberates through your body and you can't help but smile bashfully and press your thighs together. As you move to take him in your mouth, you wipe at the spittle around your lips, but the Cardinal simply leans to grab your chin and shakes his head to stop you cleaning yourself - you were already practically drooling. He strokes the side of your face, gently coaxing you to continue.
"That's it, as slow as you need…" he purrs, as you slide down the first couple of inches of his shaft, already resisting the urge to thrust. You already wonder just how much of him will fit in your mouth as his hand slides to the back of your head, his fingers entwined in your hair. When you stop, you swallow and smirk as his grip tightens.
When you start to move, Copia makes the most beautiful noise you've ever heard and he only grows louder as your mouth sucks his sensitive skin. You relax your tongue, letting it drag over him as you bob your head as he showers you in praise.
"A little more, please. Can you take it?" You nod, the motion itself allowing him deeper, and you moan in unison as you feel him hot and heavy against your panting tongue, starting to leak down your throat. "Fuck, good girl."
You manage a few more inches, almost to where your hand sits, and you massage your fingers around him. Copia circles his hips, needing to move in some way but knowing he can't fuck up into you like he wants to. It's so warm and wet, and you're looking at him searching for approval and even he doesn't understand how he can still think.
"Tighter, baby… I need— ah, yesss," he hisses as you try to purse your lips around him and - fuck, he doesn't even need to touch you, just knowing you can do this with just your mouth thrills you enough for you insides to pulse. "Don't be shy, faster."
You obey. You don't need to think. You just need to hear him. Every noise he makes, you start to match.
"Oh you like it, don't you? Being on your knees for me, tasting what you do to me?"
His words shoot through your every nerve and he feels you shiver. He might have held on a bit longer, but when you actually try to answer him and the sound is stifled by his cock, he can't help himself. Hand firmly in your hair, he pushes you down. You gag and brace yourself, hands on his legs with fingernails digging in. Even as your eyes water, you stare back at him with determination, silently pleading for him to continue.
"Want me to use that pretty mouth?" You nod again, but your eyes betray your apprehension. "Don't worry, we'll start easy. Tap me if you want to stop."
He guides you, gently at first, up and down, but it's not long before he starts to thrust. He manages to keep them shallow for a while, but when your now free hand flies between your own legs, and Copia notices before feeling your throat vibrate around him, he bucks forward with force. You gag again, fingernails now digging into his flesh, but you don't ask him to stop. He experimentally pushes deeper, harder, rougher, occasionally letting his eyes flutter closed but never for long, wanting to watch his cock disappear into your eager, drooling mouth.
He takes you right to the edge of what you think you can handle. You breathe hard through your nose as he loses himself and, as the pace quickens, Copia's ability to speak breaks down completely. You feel his hand over yours and he guides it awkwardly underneath his balls, now no longer able to ask you to do anything. You squeeze, fondling with your fingers, and measure his reaction.
"Like that, fuck, good, so fucking good, this mouth— ughhh, mine." Words just tumble from his lips. "Just for, FUCK, this cock."
You moan around him once again, resigned to whatever he wants to do to you. The power you felt building inside you knowing he was falling apart for you was a feeling you knew you'd be chasing forever.
As his movements grow even more erratic and you feel his muscles twinging, you continue touching yourself and try to increase the pressure with your mouth, sucking harder and pressing your tongue against his length. Both of you are moaning messes, each sloppy movement getting you closer to the edge, getting louder, higher and needier.
"Close…" Copia tries to warn you, but as soon as he says it, he gushes into your mouth. You feel it spurt on to the roof of your mouth and then down your throat, and you try to swallow but, there being too much and it taking you by surprise, you cough and sputter and pull back off of him before he's done, just in time to watch his face contorting with pleasure. His cum drips down your chin and down on to your chest and, as you start to try to wipe it off, you realise Copia is staring at you, mouth hanging open.
"I'm sorry, I tried to-" your apology is interrupted by him diving off the bed to you and his tongue diving into your mouth. You hum and let your body go limp against him.
"No apologies, no need," he mutters in between kisses. "Incredible. You enjoyed it too, yes?"
You grab his face and look at him, giving your most innocent, wide-eyed stare. "Hmmm… I think so. But I might need to try again to be sure."
It's Copia's turn to be wide-eyed and surprised. He had created a monster. His perfect, insatiable monster.
hey! i recently got back into ghost and stumbled across your blog and wanted to say i love your writing so much!
could i request some cardinal (or any you’d prefer!) copia and his newish partner when they go to have sex for the first time together, then they tell him they’ve never been with anyone before?
Hey! Thank you so much, I'm glad you have enjoyed it! Welcome <3
So yeah... might have got a bit carried away with this one (shocker i know that never happens). I cut out a whole section and it's still as long as some of my AO3 fics. I just had to jump on the chance to write something a little smuttier. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it <3
Cardinal Copia x f!reader - The Cardinal takes your virginity. ~2k words, MNDI 18+
Like many nights before, you had ended up underneath the Cardinal on his couch. He was very respectful that you wanted to wait to have sex with him - you could have fun in plenty of other ways, and he made sure you did. Even through a layer of clothes, you burned where he touched you. You could feel how much he wanted you and how much he was holding himself back and it only made it hotter.
The last time you had seen each other had almost been the night. You had gotten as far as both getting down to your underwear, him on top of you pressing open mouthed kisses everywhere he could reach and grinding into you. But, for some reason, at the last possible moment you told him you still weren't ready. He had tried to climb off you but you pulled him back in to continue rolling your hips against him. He watched you intently, like he wanted to devour you, as you rutted against him. It wasn't long until you were both moaning wildly, close enough for your lips to touch and gasping into each other's mouths. After you had both screamed through the climax, the first thought you had was, 'why am I still waiting?'
Tonight had started in a very similar way, but Copia immediately noticed a subtle shift. You were more forward this time, putting his hands where you needed them and actually telling him just how much you wanted him. He didn't want to make any assumptions, but when you straddled him and made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, he was pretty certain he wouldn't have to wait much longer.
When he tore down the top of your blouse and latched on to the flesh at the top of your breast, you yelped. Pupils blown wide, you pulled him off by his hair and managed to gasp, "Fuck, I need you."
You were suddenly on your back again, Copia undressing you with impressive speed. As much as you needed him to keep going, you knew you had something to tell him first.
"I should probably - ah fuck - tell you something first."
Copia made a noise of acknowledgement but he didn't stop kissing sloppily down your neck and shoulder.
"I haven't done this before."
He freezes like you were worried he would. He looks down at you with an unreadable expression. "You mean…? That's why you wanted to wait?"
You nod, embarrassment now adding to the flush of your skin. "I'm done waiting, Cardi. Please."
"Are you absolutely sure? You want it to be me?"
"If you still want to."
He sighed, resting his forehead against yours. "Of course I do. I want to make you feel good, amore."
"I don't want to disappoint you," you whispered, barely audible. "I want to make you feel good too and I-"
"Shhh, come with me."
He takes your hand and pulls you to your feet to lead you to his bedroom. He gently guides you down on the bed and nestles on top of you. He kisses you torturously slow, relishing the way your hands immediately start to explore him but refusing to increase the pace. You whine and try to pull his full weight on top of you, the nerves that had kept you from him now replaced with unbearable anticipation, but he remains steady.
"We have all night," he whispers in your ear. "Gonna take our time, okay?"
You almost break his resolve when your reach into his underwear; he hisses at the contact, the touch of someone else's hand around his cock feeling almost foreign after such a long time. But he knows if he lets you continue, it will over before it's begun.
He slips out of your grasp and removes the rest of his clothes, never taking his eyes off you. He's almost disappointed that you remove your own instead of letting him, but he would not deny that your eager yet nervous enthusiasm was unbelievably hot. Such a pretty young thing in his bed, with deep, longing hunger in her eyes, was enough to almost make him snap. All the things he could teach you ran through his mind, all the ways he could make you scream. He had to stifle a groan as he saw you look down to his cock and gulp - how desperately he wanted to know how that would feel while he fucked your mouth.
Not tonight, but he needed it soon.
He climbs on top of you once again, and scatters kisses across your goosebumped skin. "I'll take care of you, just relax. I need you to be loud for me, okay?"
Copia didn't need to ask, apparently, as barely brushing a finger near your folds made you buck and whimper. He touches you everywhere but where he really wants to and you're already a mess. He doesn't do it to tease. If asked, he might say it's to ease you into your pleasure, to make sure you're ready for him when he finally gets what he wants. And that is true, to an extent. But, seeing how wet you are for him with so little effort, making him wonder if he even needs to grab lube from the bedside cabinet, fills him with an all-consuming lust he's not sure he's ever felt before. He had known how sensitive you would be, especially given how many times he'd felt you shudder dry-humping on his sofa, but this was better than he ever could have hoped.
When he cups his hand around your mound, your hand flies into his hair, gripping hard to try and ground yourself. Any shame or misgivings are gone and the only thing you feel is his attention, his presence, his control and his hot breath against your cheek as he starts to circle his palm. Light and lazy at first, but increasing in pressure as you moan louder, mimicking his movements with your hips. When he teases just a single finger tip inside you, your legs instinctively move to close.
"Good?" The Cardinal chokes out, the only indication that this is affecting him just as much as it is you.
You think you reply yes, but it's hard to say anything at all. Mercifully it is enough for him to continue, and he begins sliding his finger in and out, a little deeper each time. When he adds a second, you feel pressure and a little stretch and it's delicious and, fuck, you know that this is nothing compared to how his cock will feel but it's already so much. You feel his erection pressing into your leg and you take him in your hand, imagining it's already inside you and stroking in time with his fingers. He begins to rock into your delicate fist, his until now careful strokes become faster, more forceful and intent on reaching new depths. Your muscles involuntarily spasm and clamp around his digits.
He tells you to relax and just focus on the feeling but you don't have any control over how your body is reacting, or any noise that you're making. You feel heavy and light at the same time. You know his fingers are inside of you but the sensation and pleasure affects every inch of you and you feel it everywhere. When he adds his thumb into his movements over your clit, it's like you disconnect from your body for a second before a crushing wave of pure ecstasy overcomes you. You snap and contort as the warmth of your climax envelops you, mind and body, with a wail that rips through your chest.
Copia keeps his fingers inside you as you ride out your orgasm and waits patiently for the aftershocks to fade. When you finally open your eyes, he's looking at you like a starved animal. His free hand gathers some slick from between your legs and rubs it over your thigh - you, him and the sheets beneath you are completely soaked - before bringing it his own mouth, humming as he tastes you. Your arousal is intoxicating, and he is drunk on making you fall apart for him.
"I think you are ready." He positions himself so that the space between removing his fingers and pushing his already leaking tip inside you is as short as possible. The whine at the loss of his fingers is the same gasp at the sensation of his cock and, despite his own impatience, he stops.
"This might feel a bit uncomfortable at first. It may even feel like it hurts a little, but…"
"I don't care, Cardi, please." It comes out more pathetic and needy than you mean it to. You're grateful that he has prepared you so thoroughly but- "We've waited long enough. I want all of you, I need to feel all of you."
Copia doesn't need to be told twice - he thrusts forward and your tight, wet hole taking him immediately makes him curse. You mold around his cock perfectly, like you were made for him and any thought of restraint is fading fast. You expect him, as he did with his fingers, to work you slowly and offer himself inch by inch, thrust by thrust until you're ready for all of him. But after the first thrust, he pushes as far as he can, burying himself to the hilt with a grunt.
You arch up into him as you try to adjust to his size, his girth stretching you with just the right amount of pain to make your eyes water. And when he starts to move, the friction sets you ablaze and you give into it completely. Copia tries to lean back to watch you, overcome and at his mercy, but you need him closer. You need him on top of you, smothering you, and so you grip onto his shoulder, digging in deep with each thrust. He tries long, slow movements, but you're holding on so tight he can't pull out much.
"Too much?" he whispers in your ear.
"No- ah! Yes, but- FUCK, Copia! So good."
He chuckles darkly. "Taking it so good for me. That's it. Just lie back and enjoy how good I can make you feel…"
He lifts one of your legs to drape it over his hip and jolts forward just as you think you can't feel any more full. It's his turn to be loud as he picks up the pace, grunting and moaning with every snap. It's too fast, and too hard and you almost feel like you can't breathe but you never want it to end. You don't know the difference between agony and ecstasy anymore, and anyone who could hear you both wouldn't either.
"So tight, fucking perfect, fuck, all mine. Worth the fucking wait," Copia practically barks out through gritted teeth as he fucks erratically into you.
You feel your next orgasm building - the coil in your stomach, the ache deep inside you hot and tingling across every nerve. The only thing you can cry out is his name, over and over and, as he begs you to cum for him, you crash over the edge almost on command. With just a few more pumps, Copia is right there with you, gripping on your hips to keep you still as he fills you.
After one last kick of his softening cock, he leans down to capture you lips with his. You hum into his mouth, your body still feeling the fading ripples of arousal as you taste his tongue. As you both catch your breath, smiling in sweet relief, you hope this is the first night of many entangled with Copia. He knows it is.
decided to start an actual tag list so if you'd like to be added, shoot me a message with anything you do/don't want to be tagged in
For the writing prompts! I'm thinking either Copia or Secondo! Maybe masc reader?
"I am the way
And you invited me to stay
However fair and pure, you crave the wand"
And/or:
"I am the one who preys on weak
I offer everything they seek
And I am the one who comes richly endowed
Harvesting crops of fields that others have plowed"
Hi friend :) this ask went off the rails... again. I feel I need to explain myself. In my mind, I replaced wand with cane and then, well... you're aware of how the Copia cane brain rot afflicts me.
Word count limit FAILED. Followed the prompt? Barely. But I hope you enjoy it anyway <3
18+ MDNI. Frater Imperator x Reader (neutral). Karaoke night lets Copia relive the glory days. Reader goes absolutely feral and Copia may be more bark than bite. ~1.5k words.
One of the silver linings of Copia's promotion to Frater was that he had a lot more time to attend Ministry social events and karaoke night had quickly become a favourite. He got to perform to a captive audience again and those who had devoted their lives to the organisation got an intimate performance from their retired Papa.
He was on top form tonight. Confident and more than comfortable with the attention and adoration from his crowd, which was absolutely raucous by the time the song was over. He definitely noticed that you hadn't taken part in the standing ovation afterwards, or the wolf-whistling and cheering. In fact, you hadn't moved at all, having been completely transfixed. The moment he grabbed his cane, twirling it before rubbing it against himself, you had been too flustered to visibly react at all.
It had always been one of your favourite songs but it had never quite had this effect on you. His choice of clothes for tonight hadn't helped; his leather suit jacket and those painted on trousers left little to the imagination. Although it was certainly stoking yours.
He definitely did notice the way you had bitten your lip as he had pointed the cane at you during the last verse. And so, after he had taken in the applause, he made a point of sauntering across the room to the seat next to you. In the few minutes that had taken, you had thankfully composed yourself and decided that neither of you would be staying at the party much longer.
There is a little conversation, but he lets you take the lead. He graciously accepts compliments on his performance and you make it clear it has lead to a curiosity about how many of the lyrics apply to him personally. He deflects in an enigmatic sort of way, still high on the adrenaline of the stage and asks the same of you. When he makes a quip about craving the wand while making a point of spreading his knees apart, you simply stand and ask how close his room is.
The journey takes twice as long as it should given you can't keep your hands off him. At first, he responds enthusiastically and just as desperately, grabbing handfuls of you and lapping at your neck as you press yourselves into the nearest solid surface. He groans at every filthy offer that comes out of your mouth, each promise you make getting him more and more riled up until he can barely function.
The gruff noises shrink into whimpers as your insatiable attention overwhelms him. You palm over his erection as you stumble towards his door, begging to see just how "richly endowed" he is and he practically yelps, flinching back slightly. Even as he fumbles with his keys, your hands crawl all over him and find their way back to his bulge. His body stutters and he lets out a high pitched giggle before grabbing your wrist to stop you.
"What's wrong?" You ask in between open mouthed kisses to his neck. "Suddenly feeling shy?"
"No!" He squeaks almost an octave higher than he means to. "No, ahem, just give me a minute to, uh—ah! There we go."
He opens the door and stumbles through. You give him some space, cautiously following him inside but allow him to catch his breath and set down his cane by the couch. He paces a couple of times with his back to you and when does dare to face you, all of that intense eye contact and swagger is gone. He actually looks a little terrified. You feel shame burn its way up your neck, a little embarrassed by being too much for him.
"You want me to go?"
He doesn't say anything, which somehow feels worse than saying yes. His mouth quirks upward into something close to a smile. You feel as though you are about be let down condescendingly gently and are more certain as his arms slide around you.
"All of those things you said," he whispers as he pecks kisses along your jaw. "Did you mean them? That is what you want… from me?"
"Yes," you reply with zero hesitation. "Afraid you might disappoint?"
You regret the words as soon as you speak them and he physically deflates. You're relieved however when he allows you to pull him back into your arms.
"I promise you, you won't," you assure him. "From what I felt already, I know you'll be more than enough for me. And if not… you can show me what else you can do with that cane." You drag his hand up your inner thigh and plant it firmly over your own arousal, to show him how much you want it. "Or we can find something else I'm sure you'll be comfortable playing with."
You're afraid you may have scared him again as when you force him to meet your gaze - his eyes have almost popped out of their sockets. He swallows hard and opens his mouth to speak, but he can only gasp for air.
"I can leave. Or you can tell me what it is you want."
"I'm just not— not sure I can—ah, I am sorry. If you wanted the man on that stage, I'm not sure if you will get it. But I am sure that I want you to stay. Please. I want all of it. Everything you promised."
You accept his invitation with a searing kiss. He flounders for a moment before allowing his hands to begin to roam. Unbuttoning his shirt as you move, you guide him backwards towards the sofa until he trips back into the cushions. As you look down at him, dishevelled and still a little uncertain, a realisation hits you. The thought alone makes you throb.
His reactions to all of your lust filled ramblings had been genuine - and he couldn't fake the tenting of his trousers now. The idea of a little pain as an appetizer to pleasure hadn't scared him; the decision on who would be doling out the punishment had just not been clear. His hand rests on the metal cane topper and his fingers flex around it as it settles in the chair. His other hand reaches out to you, beckoning you to his lap and a flash of the performer breaks through.
But that isn't what he really wants. You move forward to stand between his legs but, instead of taking position over his knee, you snatch the cane for yourself. You push its end into his chest, just hard enough to make him squirm, before dragging it down over the hair peeking out of his shirt, all the way down to the erection currently threatening to tear out of his trousers. He hisses as you apply more pressure, wincing but not making any effort to stop you. His eyes are just still just as wide, but now with a hunger you plan on thoroughly satisfying.
He has done enough performing. Enough giving. In all those years of fulfilling his duties, you wonder how often his own needs were taken into account. It's someone else's turn to take the reins and take care of him. To remind him of his own cravings, and how to give in to them.
You strip slowly standing over him, with the use of only one hand, blushing as he watches hungrily while rubbing up against the rod between his legs.
"We may need to be quicker than this," he says," if we are to get to everything you wanted. It was a long, colourful list."
You again start to feel a little bashful, confronted by your own forwardness. You feel a confession coming.
"Well," you begin, "maybe you need to remind me of some of those. I don't exactly… remember them all. They sort of just came out. You, tonight, just did something to me. Maybe I came on a little strong, but I couldn't help myself."
It's true. You don't consider yourself shy but you're also not in the habit of throwing yourself any somebody the way you had tonight. You don't usually want someone so badly that it makes you weak at the knees and so desperate for them to do unspeakable things to you that you actually tell them.
The admission switches the energy in the room again. Both of you take a breath as Copia considers your admission and its implication. You can't read his expression, but you see something switch on in his mind.
He's out of his seat and on you before you can react, grabbing you and bending you over the couch. The cane is ripped from your hand and brought in front of you to be pressed firmly between your thighs. Suddenly, with just the right kind of ego stroking, Copia is very confident he can provide what it is you seek.
Lyric prompts you say? Popia, please. "Now there is nothing between us, from now our merge is eternal". Gender neutral reader perhaps? Thanks ❤️
ALL OF MY RULES WENT OUT THE WINDOW FOR THIS ONE, THANK YOU FOR THE PROMPT FRIEND! I hope it was worth the wait <3.
Thanks @cenotaphghuleh for helping me get this finished and @thevoidinyourstomach for helping me talk through my ideas :)
18+ MDNI. Popia x reader (gender neutral and no specific terms used, but may be inferred/read as P in V sex, hope this is okay) Ritual sex, blood, idiots to lovers ft. Satan as wingman. ~3.3k words
Standing before him, both of you lit by the surrounding candlelight, the butterflies in your stomach knock you slightly nauseous. Being his oldest friend only adds to the honour it is to be asked to take part in his first official ritual as Papa. You understand why he would ask you - very few people had known him as long as you have. But there was also a reason he was slightly hesitant to ask, the same reason which informed your apprehension.
To bless his ascension with a carnal offering should be straightforward; it is a rite that all Papas before him have indulged in and it's not as if you haven't had entanglements before. But, his insistence that this was simply a task, as if it were nothing more than red tape, and that it did not mean anything beyond his duty and your devotion to Him prickled you in a way you hadn't expected.
You did not share with him that you had lost sleep over those words. Maybe if you could find the words to explain why, you might have. Then again, each time he joked about the upcoming formality, the urge to question it would shrink. You tried to push down the memories of those entanglements almost becoming something else, developing into something more, and decided that his flippancy toward the matter solidified your relationship as nothing more than friends and occasional bed mates.
But he sees it now. The way your eyes dart to avoid his and the way you fidget with your oversized robe, almost wishing you could disappear inside it. He finds your hand under the fabric, taking it gently and asks a silent question. He gives you one last chance to change your mind, with his soft, patient eyes and, even as you nod, a quirk of his brow asks if you are sure.
Your smile assures him and he turns to the altar to light the last of the candles. Along with the ones circling you both, there is a small cluster of them next to the bowl on the altar. In contrast to the black ones littered around the room, these are thicker in size and more colourful - a mix of pinks and reds and lilacs bound with ribbon arranged in an arc. You don't think it looks particularly satanic, but you were never the greatest student and suppose you should put your faith in the expert, even if he is struggling not to burn his own fingers and reading from what looks like a hastily scribbled list of instructions.
After a deep, steadying breath, he turns back to you with the dagger in hand. He unwraps the piece of silk from its hilt to tie it around his wrist, and then around yours. You step together, your free hands reaching behind the other's neck to unclasp your robes. The weight easily pulls yours from your frame. It thumps to the floor and almost pulls you down with it, but Copia catches you, not without a lingering look over your now naked body.
While it is nice to know he still appreciates it, you clear your throat and he ignores the knowing look you give him and instead turns his attention back to the altar. He grabs the bowl and gathers the robes beneath you, guiding you to kneel on them rather than the rough stone floor.
You don't understand the Latin he begins to recite; he had explained it briefly and in vague terms of gratitude and devotion but had left out most of the details, other than to prepare you for what was required of you. Your own offering of blood and its mixing with his had raised some questions, but you had found yourself agreeing to it regardless. And so, as he brings the blade to your palm, you barely flinch. He makes a quick, clean cut and does the same to his own hand, holding them above the bowl to collect each drop you give.
As his voice grows stronger, calling out earnestly to whoever may be listening, he tightens the silk around your wrist and hand until you are firmly bound together. You grimace as your wound stings against his, but Copia continues completely unfazed. The sound of his voice is steady, comforting in its confidence. You can't help but be drawn in by it and, by the time he finishes his oath, your lips are already touching.
With a final 'nema', he closes the gap to capture your waiting mouth. You gasp in surprise and relief as the tension breaks and your bodies finally meet. His embrace is painfully easy to fall into. The frigid air seems to dissipate immediately, replaced by a sticky humidity as you race to explore and rediscover each other. Both eager to reacquaint yourselves, he helps you climb on to his lap and instinct takes over. You grind down as he rolls his hips and, despite the unfamiliar surroundings, your body remembers how to fit with his.
He groans as he struggles to break the kiss, reluctantly pulling back from you even as you chase his mouth. He lifts the dagger again.
"We need. One more," he huffs, struggling for breath. "Another, uh, connection point."
You guide his wrist and, lifting up slightly, press the blade to the top of his thigh. He completes the action, slicing his own flesh with quick cut. You then guide him to the underside of your thigh where he does the same. As you sink back down on top of him, this wound seems to hurt worse, now agitated by sweat and more movement as Copia wastes no time in starting to move again.
The dagger clatters on the stone floor, Copia discarding it carelessly to hold on to you instead, snaking his arm around your waist as he kisses you deeply. He grunts into your mouth with each thrust he attempts, so close and so desperate to be inside you but at the mercy of how you move. The burning of your wound has you hissing between quiet hums and gasps, and soon blood is coating Copia's thigh, dripping into the soft robes you sit on, only adding to mess between your legs.
It's so easy for him to slide inside you that it takes him by surprise when, as you feel his tip catch, you sink further down and take him fully in one fluid motion. You mouth slides down his jaw to find his neck, allowing him to sigh loudly at the sensation. You suck over his pulse which earns a hard jerk of his hips, and you quickly fall into this cycle of pleasure he had always made so easy to find.
Every sound from him echoes around you, each moan and mewl amplified and encouraging your own as much as the feeling of him bucking up into you does. But it is gentle touch that is your undoing. Reverent, as if you are sacred and may shatter in his grasp. His hand travels slowly to all of the places he knows you want them, all of your most sensitive spots committed to memory, while the one tied to yours can only squeeze and squirm. His mouth knows where to ghost over and where to suck and nip, only breaking away to moan into the taste of you when he cannot keep it in any longer.
Overwhelmed by its precision, you drag his mouth back to yours but his tongue flicking playfully over yours only brings you closer to falling apart entirely. You had always had fun, on late nights and the rare lazy weekend, and moments that hinted at something more but this was something else entirely. It's a brutal intimacy; you feel completely bare and the intense burning in your chest feels like something latching on to your soul. And when he looks at you, his fingers tipping your chin so he can take all of you in, you can only look back terrified. Scared but still pleading for more.
His other hand is then planted on the small of your back, encouraging you to rock faster and roll harder. His mouth falls open in a silent cry and you know he is close; a tug of his hair or the right kind of whisper into his ear would get him there but you also know he is trying desperately to wait for you. As you realise it, you feel a crushing wave of pressure and almost immediate release. Your body stutters, taken by surprise at the force of warmth and pleasure and relief and a similarly shattering realisation that you're looking at each other with something more than fondness, or even lust.
Every sensation seems to double in intensity in a split second. His cock sliding inside you and your body trying to take him deeper, impossibly wet and hot, sends a scorching need through every nerve. Your lips feel bruised by his kisses that only become more clumsy and desperate but the dread that fills you when they leave you makes you whine. And when he looks at you, it's crushing to see your own awe and admiration reflected back at you. You know you have never looked at anyone else like that.
You love him.
You hear the cold breeze before you feel it, whistling through the old stone in the room and extinguishing the candles around you. All of them, except the cluster at the altar. In an instant, you clench around Copia as your inside spasm, he spills inside you with a strained grunt and the flames from the still-lit wicks flicker and burst higher in a violently red hue. Neither of you having control over your limbs quite yet, you can only let it blind you.
The shock and confusion steals the rest of your high. The flash fades and the room clears mostly, only slightly hazy with wisps of disappearing smoke. When your eyes adjust, they search for Copia, hoping his expression will bring answers but, on finding him, he looks dumbfounded.
"C?" Your voice startles him. "Is that… good?"
"It's…" His voice cracks. "That is…. unexpected. I, uh, I don't…"
His panic spreads through you and is not eased when he unceremoniously lifts you off him with a half muttered apology, and scrambles to the corner of the room. He grabs a book, stashed beneath his clothes, and brings it to the altar and begins furiously flipping through its pages. You fidget nervously, toying with the edge of the silk still wrapped around your wrist in an effort to remain patient.
"That's not right," he mutters to himself, more angry now. "Doesn't make sense. How did—"
The dead silence is even less comforting than his frantic rambling. A little more confident that your legs are no longer shaking, you move towards him slowly. Your hand on his arm makes him jump.
"Talk to me, please? You're scaring me."
He sighs, exasperated. It prepares you that you may not like the explanation, if he has one at all.
"The ritual, it's not… either the candles stay lit, or they go out. Honestly, I was expecting nothing at all, a mere formality. Tradition, a symbolic… I don't know. But that, ah… you felt it, yes? That was something. Something here. A connection."
"Yes," you reply. There was no denying it.
"A true presence. He… in that way, the ritual was successful, I suppose. I felt Him, here." Oh.
"But… but I don't understand what it means. Whether that was a-a-a blessing, or, well, the opposite. It didn't feel like a bad thing. It wasn't, was it?"
You try to speak but no words come out. Maybe that is for the best, you think. Part of you wants to tell him: of course not. It was beautiful and world-shifting and perhaps the most intense emotion you had ever felt. How could that be bad?
There is more rifling through pages and shuffling of handwritten notes and before long they are scattered across the whole altar. Copia stares as if willing the answer to jump off the paper and slap him. Your fingers sliding into his gives him a brief respite and causes a hint of a gracious smile, followed by a haggard sigh. He breaks contact far quicker than you would like to go back to his papers.
Two pages seem to suddenly catch his attention. He lifts them, squinting a little in the dark, and his eyes dart between them and the book.
"Ah."
The noise he makes is frustrating non-committal.
"I, ah— oh. Oh that's. Right."
You liked non-committal much better than that.
"What is it?"
"So, a lot of these old books are ah… a lot of the writing is illegible. And some rituals have been updated or, or, have evolved over the years. So, we have notes, additions… instructions like these kept in the book. Slotted into the relevant pages. Or, they are supposed to be."
He flips between two sections of the book, scanning it and then the handwritten pages again.
"So, what you're saying is… you read the wrong page? But, C, you can read Latin. I know you can. You would have noticed it was for something else."
There is a pause as his mouth and his brain try to get in sync. "Well, yes I can read it. Pretty well, mostly. And it did sound correct! You know, giving myself to Satan, binding—" He almost chokes. "Binding myself to Him."
"But if it was wrong… something happened. What did you— we do?"
He skims the pages yet again, flicking back and forth a few more times for good measure. Searching for an explanation. Maybe a conclusion different to the one he has arrived at. But then something else catches his eye. His gaze remains fixed as some of the tension drops from his shoulders. But not all of it.
It is his turn to startle you. He turns, snapping on his heels to look at you. His hands cradle your face for a fraction of a second before they awkwardly retreat. He looks strange. Troubled, you would guess. Relieved but not completely. His eyes sparkle like he is smiling but the rest of his face resists.
He clears his throat and all of it fades.
"I should have known. The binding of our wrists, the mixing of blood… I have been so busy and tired and it made me careless."
"Are we… did you accidentally marry us?"
As soon as you've asked the question, you realise how juvenile it sounds. When you awkwardly giggle, he really does smile.
"No! Um, I don't think so." He takes your hands in his. "Not really. Like I said, the wording of it was, uh, very similar to the other rite. It is about asking for His blessing in a way. It can be performed for many reasons. A blessing, or a question, or a test, or—"
"Copia."
"Sorry." His brow furrows for a moment as he reins in his need to explain every detail. "We, um, offered ourselves to Him in, ah union. And presented ourselves, bound together. He then passed judgement."
"Judgement?"
"Yes. Well, maybe that is too harsh a word. It is said, allegedly, that He will see if you are… compatible. It says here, in the book, I see it now… 'He looks into your souls to see if they move as one'. To see if… feelings are true. Mutual." He looks down at the book and plucks another quote. "'If your mind, heart and soul are truly aligned.'"
You release a shaky breath you hadn't noticed you were holding. "And is this binding… well, binding? If you present yourself and He sees that you are, um, aligned?"
"I don't think so, no. No. It is more of a way to commune with Him. Ask a question. I think. I'm pretty sure. I am not familiar with it but I will do some more research. If that would make you feel better."
You nod slowly, still trying to wrap your head around it all. "So what did He say about us? Does it say in the book?"
He takes a long pause. "Like I said, I will need to do some more research. I'm not sure I know what we asked him."
He was never any good at lying, but you give him the benefit of the doubt this time. He probably wants to make sure he does not get anything else wrong. You can see the guilt he feels for breaking your trust, even accidentally.
"May I ask," he says, almost too quietly to hear him, "when the candles blew out, what were you thinking? What were you feeling?"
"We were fucking, you know exactly what I was feeling," you deflect with a smirk.
He huffs appreciatively at the sentiment and thankfully does not push you further, instead picking up a robe to hand to you while he collects your clothes. You both get dressed in near silence, preoccupied by the evening's events and concerned about how you both proceed from here. As he collects his notes and slots the loose pages back into the book, you can't help but push him for something, anything else that might ease your mind.
"Copia? You really don't know what it means? No idea at all? The flames, they were red. Is red bad?"
His instincts take over as soon as he sees and hears the worry shaking you. Given his mistake, he owes you honesty at the very least.
"Red is… good, in this case. I will check. Double, triple check but the candles at the altar staying lit. The cluster of colour remaining would suggest we were a-aligned."
"And what exactly does that mean?"
"Well it could mean a number of things but… whatever we asked, or presented, or thought, it was enough. We felt the same, and it was strong enough, and it was worthy of His blessing. It is more likely than not that, uhh…" He gulps. "He approves. Of us. That if we were to…"
Your mouth opens and his face goes blank. Copia, sensing he has somehow made things worse, scrambles to find something to say to ease your mind. But he struggles to look you in the eye anymore.
"But that would mean…" Your mind whirs, questions and unease clouding any rational thought. Until, one question settles. "You asked me what I was thinking."
"Yes. To try to understand how this happened."
"But you said we would have to be thinking the same. Feeling the same. About each other. For it to have this result. So surely you shouldn't need to ask?"
His eyes snap to you, shining and wide, all pretence gone as he finally begins to accept reality. "No, I suppose not. I did not think… I dared not believe it."
"I don't think I realised. Not until tonight."
"Me either. Or, I did not let myself."
The admission, the removal of all doubt, should calm the air between you but Copia still looks terrified. You step towards him and hold his hand.
"When you said this wasn't binding," you say, stroking over his knuckles. "Is that because you don't want it to be? You do not want to feel that way about me?"
"What?" He exclaims, jolted out of his nervousness. "No! I mean, maybe I was a little unsure, but no! I just did not imagine— I did not want this, for you to feel tricked into telli—"
You interrupt him with your mouth on his and, now with both hands at his disposal, he latches on to you like he never wants to let go. You hope he understands - and if not you will make him - that with or without Satan, you had always been bound to him.
