copia loves kissing you everywhere. on your lips or your cheeks, shoulders or stomach. he presses kisses to the tip of your nose because he thinks you're cute. he just can't resist you, ever. he kisses you right after you wake up and right before you go to sleep, saying he won’t have a good nights sleep if he doesn’t kiss you. he puts you gently on the bed, kissing you from your cheeks to your nose and chin down to your jaw. moving down to your neck and shoulders, he goes lower, gently kissing your belly and inner thighs, a smirk on his lips, his mismatched eyes never leaving yours as he reaches his treasure.
thinking about copia sucking cock/the strap so beautifully.
he's on his knees, staring up at you while you push the tip against his lips. there's a twinkle to his eye as you praise the way he opens them. he's warm and inviting.
"sweet thing," you coo, cupping his face with your hands. "so obedient for me."
a hand comes up to brace against your hip. his thumb strokes with reverence across the flesh there, and he takes the tip into his mouth. he whimpers a little at the weight of it atop his tongue.
"you want it?"
he mumbles a "mhm" around your cock and bobs his head just a little, eager to take you in even further.
and who are you to deny him?
so you thread your fingers through his greying hair and squeeze gently, guiding his head down the shaft. it's a small movement, allowing plenty of time for him to begin adjusting to the intrusion.
he lets out a muffled groan as he bobs his head again, making a show of how much deeper he's taking you with each back-and-forth movement. both hands are grasping your hips now, gently tugging them towards his face.
the noises he makes turn more choked and strained as the tip of your cock nudges the back of his throat. his nose inches further and further towards your pubic bone. tears prick at his eyes, and as he blinks them away, a few fall down his cheeks.
he's never looked more beautiful.
he pulls himself off after a rather enthusiastic suck at the tip, panting and puffy-lipped. it must be something important if it pulled him away from such bliss.
"use me." he presses the shaft to his open mouth and kisses along the side of it. "please?"
his eyes are expectant, hopeful that you'll fuck his throat just the way he likes. you both know how good he'll be. he can take it.
For the "hold me closer" prompts: "I didn't take you to be the 'big spoon' kind of guy" with Copia!
(Copia reads pretty definitively as "little spoon" to me, so him as big spoon should be interesting to explore!)
see, i feel like i think differently of him... here's a lil somethin somethin:
Papa Emeritus the Fourth’s robes were smooth beneath your fingertips.
You gingerly removed the stole from his shoulders, folded it, and draped it on a nearby chair. He stayed still, his shoulders sloped, his breath deep and slow.
This was its own ritual. Black Mass had just ended, a late-night edition. You prepared the clothing, ensuring everything was ready for the next mass. With that came undressing Papa after each one.
You started a job that once made you blush, but now the routine and his quirks were familiar.
He was quiet today.
“Ready, Papa?”
A nod. No words.
You unzipped the back of his black robe, the orange and gold detail catching in the soft light of the vestry. The fabric was lush, soft in your hands as you pulled it from him.
You expected him to step out in his undershirt and trousers and dismiss you as usual. Instead, he lingered, watching as you hung the robe.
“Something you need, Papa?”
“Eh, actually — yes. Yes, I had something to ask of you.” He shuffled his feet, fiddling with his hands. Copia was looking at you now, tiredness in his eyes. “It is… you can say no, of course.”
Papa was obviously nervous, which made your own chest bloom with a strange kind of anxiety. He always seemed to be a ball of nerves,
“A cuddle. Would you… would you have a cuddle with me?” He nearly cringed at his own words, turning his head away from you. “It doesn’t— we don’t have to—“
Your mind raced as he stammered. This was not a request to deny. Papa was asking, and you couldn’t say no.
That’s how you ended up beneath his crushed blue velvet duvet, waiting for him. He hadn’t expected you to say yes, so delight lit his face. He quickly took your hand, leading you to his quarters.
You shakily slipped off your habit, setting it aside so you wore only a camisole and underwear. He unbuttoned and slid off his slacks, leaving himself in tight black boxers. You’d seen him scantily clad before, but now, knowing you were about to share a bed, your skin buzzed with anticipation.
To your surprise, any earlier awkwardness seemed to have disappeared when Papa left the vestry. His movements were now smooth as he walked around the bed, a small smile resting on his lips as he prepared to join you.
“I’ve needed this.”
The bed dipped as he dropped his knee, crawling in beside you. His skin, already flushed, felt warm against yours. A breath caught in your throat when his arm wound around your middle, tugging you close.
How good it felt to be held by him. His frame was strong, yet comfortable. His hand drifted up your arm, fingers circling your wrist. You sighed deeply, your body shuddering with sudden comfort.
“Oh. I didn’t take you to be the ‘big spoon’ kind of guy.” Mentally, you facepalmed at how casual you sounded.
Papa chuckled into your neck. “There’s a lot that’s unknown about me, tesoro.” His words held surprising weight. You spent so much time with him, yet do you really know him? It was your duty to serve—to dress and undress him for each mass.
Is he different behind closed doors?
He was already proving it.
You settled into him as his fingers laced with yours. “I’ve needed this. Some downtime with another.” His breath ghosted the sensitive skin behind your ear. “It’s a lonely job. If you’ve ever wondered.”
Silence stretched.
You were comfortable but overwhelmed, eyes darting for something smart to say. All you managed was: “I will do this whenever you ask, Papa.”
What I look like checking a specific X reader tag for the fourth time today, only to realize I’ve truly read everything…
This problem is more regular than you might think… and this being a problem in itself might also be an issue, but that’s not what we’re here to talk about 
Please think about warm and comfy copia cuddles... And then he makes the worst joke you've heard in your life 😌
His arms are tightly wrapped around you, your bodies so close that you can feel his heart beating against yours. It’s been a cool day but his warmth has radiated into every one of your cells, melting away any worries or insecurities that usually linger. Copia is breathing kisses to your forehead, his lips soft like the wings of a butterfly. In the background, his record player is providing a static sound, the music long run out but neither of you willing to get up and turn the vinyl.
You move your hand up and down his chest, feeling the roughness of the faded Star Wars print on his shirt. He sighs whistfuly, pushing his leg between yours to get even closer. You shift as well, moving further on top of him, tangled up and struggling on the narrow bed until you finally feel more of him. Right as you swing your leg over his you hear a thud but you don’t care to investigate it.
“Amore…” Copia asks, already snickering. “What did the blanket say as it fell off the bed?”
short n sweet snippet of puppy play with copia under the cut!
"Sit."
Copia tucks his knees underneath himself and sits back on his haunches, straightening his posture as well as his body will allow. His fingers are curled into his palms, an endearing effort to further immerse himself into the scene.
Click.
"Good boy."
His eyes shine with adoration, an eagerness to please so insatiable he hangs onto every word as he waits for his next command.
"Speak."
He lets out a little vocalized huff, meek in nature. It's not shy but rather reserved, holding back what deserves to step out into the light. He waits for you to press the button but your thumb doesn't do so much as twitch.
"I said speak, pup." You hope the emphasis signals what it needs to.
"Ruff!" His head jerks upward as he barks and his hips wiggle slightly, causing the tail plug to swish behind him. If this wasn't enough proof of his excitement, the sight between his thighs seals the deal. A small gathering of pre starts to drip down his shaft and you swear you can see it twitch as it stands against his abdomen.
Click.
"Good boy. One more and then I'll make you feel good, okay?"
Copia whimpers, a keening sound in the back of his throat as he anticipates the perfection of your touch.
"Present."
The sheets rustle as he spreads his thighs even further, straightening his back and holding his hands behind himself. His cock bobs cutely as he moves, aching for the tenderness only your hands can provide.
Click.
"Good boy. Are you ready, puppy?"
Copia barks once again before nodding, fully absorbed into the headspace. Your heart swells at his commitment to the moment.
"Oh- OH!" Copia's body stiffens and trembles as you collect the pre that's continued to pool at his tip, stroking him until he's coated with it. The sliding of wet flesh coupled with Copia's incessant whining sends you both into a daze, entranced by the pleasure that courses between your bodies.
"Such a good boy for me... my sweet, perfect pup..."
Copia's noises have been reduced to high-pitched "uhs" and "mmms" as he fights the urge to cum. He knows all too well what happens to puppies who finish too early. Instead, he locks his gaze with yours and tries to blink away the bleariness. Your fingers and palm are grazing, squeezing, and tugging in all the right places... he doesn't know if he'll make it this time.
"Hold."
The seconds float by agonizingly slow and the pressure builds impossibly stronger in his abdomen. The slick sounds coming from between his thighs and the jolts of pleasure that race through his lower half are almost too much to bear. Your hand just feels so good and he knows that he'll be a bad boy if he doesn't follow this command but if he just lasts a little while longer he'll hear th-
Click.
"Good boy."
Copia cries out as his seed spills from him in hot, white spurts. It stains the sheets, lands on his chest, and dribbles over your hand that strokes him through the orgasm. All the while you're showering him with praise, telling him what a good pup he is and how you're so proud of your perfect boy.
Shuddering gasps are all that leave him now, still obediently holding his "present" pose. The thought of how much his back must be aching at this point is enough for you to give him his final command.
"Free."
Copia slouches immediately and reaches for you, crawling over to nestle into your side. You set the clicker down on the bedside table and wrap warm, welcoming arms around his still-trembling frame. Reaching a hand up you scratch the space between his clip-on ears. He melts even further into your embrace and a rumble resounds through his chest.
Papa Emeritus IV Copia x gn!reader (no description, no pronouns, no use of 'y/n')
Rating: G
Word Count: 3,300
Warnings: Author really winging how the Ministry works, references to the current state of the world, crying, brief reference to cannibalism (it's really not as intense as that sounds), embarrassment, overheard conversations, struggling with new authority and a lack of affirmation, and ambiguous relationships.
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Prompt: "Tell me you meant every word."
Sometimes, you weren't sure how the Ministry managed to function.
Beyond the confusing power structure and dubious funding, you just really weren't sure how you were earning a place to live and three meals a day by doing random bullshit chores. It was also incredible that none of those chores seemed to be done on a regular basis, given the sheer number of Siblings who lived in the Ministry.
Fortunately for you, you had a friend with you that day. You and Nina had been banished to the far reaches of the Ministry, sent to clean one of the rarely used storage areas. Judging from the thick layer of dust on everything, no one had bothered storing anything in this room in quite some time.
You had been there for the entire morning and the rumble of your stomachs said that lunchtime had to come soon. Nina gamely went along with your methodical nature, helping you move all boxes and shelves out of the room so you could thoroughly dust and clean it before moving things back inside.
You had dragged a ladder in to change some burnt-out lightbulbs, but had to remove the glass covers before you could get to them. Nina was wiping the dust from each globe that you passed down to her, intermittently handing you fresh lightbulbs and cleaned covers so you could reinstall both. Even the insides of the covers had been caked in so much filth that you didn't know whether the lightbulbs had actually burnt out or if the light just couldn't get through.
"We should have started with this," Nina told you, handing you one of a dozen tiny screws so you could reattach the cover.
"It's definitely getting easier to see the screws as we go," you agreed. "Maybe we'll even find some of the ones we dropped earlier."
"I'm just hoping it'll stop smelling like hot dirt in here."
Something in the phrasing or the disgust in her voice struck you as being funny. Your amusement made Nina laugh and soon you were both in tears - you clinging desperately to the ladder so you didn't fall off.
"I wou-wouldn't hold my breath," you gasped.
Nina snorted hoarsely, handing you another screw. "I don't think I have much of a choice until it stops stinking in here."
You shared another weak laugh, both exhausted by the random fit of laughter.
"Shit, I needed that," Nina told you, wiping her eyes on her forearm to avoid the grime on her hands. "I've been so stressed lately."
"Stressed?" you repeated, carefully threading another screw into place so the light fixture could support the cover's weight without you having to hold it. "My dear Nina, we live in the headquarters for a fringe segment of the Satanic Church during an upswell of Christian nationalism and fascist ideology. Whatever could you have to be stressed about?"
Nina rolled her eyes pretended to kick the ladder out from beneath you. "Uh, for starters… our new Papa and Frater?"
"What about them?" Two more lightbulbs and you would be done with the fucking fixture. Your arms were burning.
"Pretty sure Perpetua is a vampire."
You barked out a laugh, glancing down at your friend in surprise. "What?"
"He's super pale, even without the makeup and I'm pretty sure I've only seen him at night." Nina frowned, shrugging a moment later. "Well, never in the sunlight, anyway."
"Again: Satanic. Church. I've never seen anyone in the sunlight." You beckoned for another lightbulb. "Except Nihil. Interestingly, it was after he died."
"See?"
You shook your head at her. "Vampire or not, he's the head of the Ghost Project now. And the Skeletour was popular, so people must like him."
"Well, I'm still worried," Nina decreed. "What if he shows up in my room the next time I get my period?"
"Judging from the stories, say 'Thank you, Satan,' and enjoy the ride."
You were busy laughing at your own joke when she added, "And don't get me started on Copia as Frater Imperator."
"What's wrong with him?" you asked, caught off-guard at the change in subject.
Nina shrugged. "I don't think he knows what he's doing."
"Well, he's only the second person to have ever done the job. Give me the last lightbulb, will you?"
"He just doesn't seem confident," she concluded, handing you the lightbulb.
"I… actually disagree," you said, putting in screws one by one to hold the last remaining cover in place. "Think about how well he did as Papa."
"Longest-running for sure," Nina admitted after a moment of thought. "But you're saying he was better than Primo and Secondo? Better than Terzo?"
You shook your head fondly at Nina's unending devotion to Terzo. As you climbed down off the ladder, you continued, "Primo was unholy and got the whole Ghost project up and running again. Secondo was cool - still is cool, actually. Terzo is flirty, and I know everyone loves that, but Copia is the one who led the Ministry through the biggest growth period it's ever had."
"The church grew a lot during Terzo's run." Nina folded the ladder and moved it out into the hall before you could answer. As she came back, she added the most oft-referenced Terzo achievement: "He won a Grammy!"
You handed her a dust rag and said, "Yeah, but could he have kept that kind of growth and success going during a global pandemic that shut down live shows for a year?"
"Probably."
You grinned at her. "Your obsession with Terzo aside, he was good at making everyone feel wanted. Copia makes everyone feel seen. He appreciates the unappreciated. That's what I like most about him: he cares."
"Yeah?" Nina asked, laughing openly at your passion. "And how many conversations have you had with your boyfriend the Frater?"
You tossed your own dust-crusted rag in her direction, but it fluttered harmlessly to the floor before it got even halfway between you. "You would treat me this way, Nina? After all the times I've listened to you wax poetic about Terzo's ass?"
"It's a great ass." Nina sighed dreamily. "Copia's isn't bad, either."
You snorted at that and the dust in the air made you cough for a moment. "I'll agree with that. If we're listing qualifications for being a good Frater, having a nice ass isn't high on the list…"
"-but it sure doesn't hurt," Nina chorused, finishing the statement along with you. It had been something of a running joke between you for all the years you had known each other.
"Let's sweep and pull the furniture back inside before lunch," you suggested, swiping your wrist across your forehead. "I don't want to take care of it alone. I don't even want to try."
Nina agreed gamely, offering another apology for not being able to keep helping, but you shrugged it off. She had an appointment she needed to keep and you didn't begrudge her a few hours of personal time. Especially since you got all the large pieces of furniture dusted off and rearranged in the room before you took a break to grab lunch.
And so, full and cozy and trying not to stop for a nap, you went back to the storage room alone that afternooon. Everything from that point on was simple - take a quick look through each box in the hallway. If something looked interesting or important, set it aside to be looked at by a member of the Clergy. If not, close the box back up, dust it off, and put it back in the room. If you could manage to arrange the boxes using some kind of organizational system, that was a bonus, but not an expectation.
It was slow going and you started to wonder why you weren't writing the contents on each box. No one was going to ask you about your organization and it would make things easier when the next person came down here ito look for something. Judging from how things had looked when you and Nina started, it would be at least a decade until that happened, but still.
There was a small supply closet down the hall from your storage room, and you were sure it would have a notepad and pen, along with tape so you could add the makeshift inventory to the side of each box.
Visions of a beautifully organized and unrealistically clean storage room danced behind your eyes as you picked your way through the detritus on the way to the supply closet. Your memory had served you well, and you quickly located the closet, grabbed a stack of supplies, and retraced your steps back toward the storage room.
Something odd caught your attention. A noise.
The Ministry was full of strange sounds. It was an old building full of strange people and everyone was fairly sure it was haunted anyway. But this noise had sounded slightly less typical than the random chanting or creaks that happened to fall like footsteps (both typical for the building). It sounded like the hiccuping breathing that happened after a crying fit.
You froze, one foot still in the air as you listened intently. The sound came again, interspersed with one loud sniffle. Definitely someone crying.
It wasn't your business.
If someone had come all the way down here to hide before they started crying, they probably didn't want to be comforted. You weren't going to interfere.
It really wasn't your business.
There was a particularly piteous-sounding sniff, followed by another shaky gasp for air. Your heart gave a pang for the stranger.
It wasn't your business, it wasn't your business, it wasn't your business…
"Hello?"
You were already cursing yourself as you ducked back into the supply closet to snag a box of tissues. There was no sound, but in a startled way, as if you had surprised someone who would rather have some space.
"Where are you?"
No answer, but you hadn't really expected one.
"I understand if you don't want to see anyone," you said loudly, over-enunciating each syllable so they could understand you through the echoes of the empty hallway. "If you don't say anything, I'll just leave this box of tissues in the middle of the hall so you can get them after I leave."
You had set the box down on the floor and taken a half-dozen steps back toward the storage room when you heard a congested voice say weakly, "In here."
In a matter of seconds, you had snatched up the box of tissues and tracked the voice to where it had come from - another storage room. This one was full of books, held on floor-to-ceiling shelves that may have been wood or metal or papier-mache. It was impossible to tell under the thick layer of dust that coated every surface.
The mysterious person was tucked somewhere between the seventh and eighth shelves. They were hunched over and facing the shelf in front of them too closely for you to see their exact features… but they were instantly recognizable all the same.
"Pap- uh… Frater? Is everything okay?"
"Yes!" Frater Copia said quickly, swiping at his eyes before gesturing to the books in front of him. "The dust, you know. It's… eh, my allergies."
"That happens to me sometimes," you agreed magnanimously. "Here, take a tissue. If you wipe your eyes with dust on your fingers, it'll just make things worse."
Copia sheepishly accepted a tissue, dabbing carefully under his eyes to avoid smearing the black Frater paints. With a quick little fold to keep from depositing any paint elsewhere on his face, he blew his nose in a few loud honks that made you half-turn to hide your smile.
"Thank you," he said stiffly, shoving the used tissue into his pocket. "I had no idea this room was unused this long."
You chuckled. "That seems to be the norm for this part of the building, Frater. But I'm surprised someone so busy bothered coming here personally. What are you in here looking for?"
"I… Oh, I-" Copia glanced around himself, obviously caught off-guard by your question. It was a little cruel, asking that while knowing that he had been having a private emotional moment, but it would have been weird if you hadn't asked at all.
Just when you were ready to take pity on him and excuse yourself to finish with the storage room, Copia snatched a thick book bound in black leather from a nearby shelf. "This. For reference, you know."
Your eyebrows shot up before you could bite back the reaction and Copia twisted his wrist to look at the cover of the book. It was an ancient copy of Liber Necessitatis Et Famis - or translated - the Scroll of Need and Hunger. This had to have been one of the first versions to be bound in a book rather than a scroll and would be interesting for that alone… but not as interesting as the content itself.
Half Kama Sutra, half Hannibal Lecter, Liber Necessitatis Et Famis was famous within the Ministry as being the ultimate guide to kink of all kinds. And while the Ministry frowned upon cannibalism in general, some of the recipes in Need and Hunger were supposedly quite good. Tested with pork or other proteins, of course, but everyone thought the same thing when they tried it: these recipes had been created with a different meat in mind.
Copia blanched when he caught sight of the title, but he gamely tried to keep up his charade. "For- for research purposes, of course."
"Of course," you agreed with a half-hearted nod.
He seemed to realize that using Need and Hunger for research was probably only slightly less creepy than using it for its intended purpose. He placed it gingerly back on the shelf, posture slumping as he admitted, "That is not the truth."
You smiled gently. "That's probably for the best."
Copia's answering smile was weak and anxious. "The truth is that I came here to check on you."
"Me?" you echoed in surprise. "Why?"
"You are efficient. Decisive." He allowed the fist he had clenched with the last word to lower to his side. "I admire it, but I worry. You so rarely ask for help. So I came down here to make sure you did not need anything."
Your face went hot - partially because of the idea that the head of the Ministry not only knew who you were, but knew enough about you to know that you wouldn't ask for help. However, you were filled with horror remembering the variety of expletives and colorful phrases you had used that afternoon when you were fighting the Ministry's lack of organizational system. Hopefully, he didn't think less of you.
"Oh, uh… Frater, I'm sorry. I said some things I probably shouldn't have…"
Copia's expression inexplicably fell. "That- that is fine, my dear. When one is speaking with a friend… Well, it is different. Sometimes you say things- eh… Hmm. Yes."
You hardly heard his nonsensical rambling, all of your attention on the horrible dread bubbling in the pit of your stomach. "Wait, a friend? Frater, how… Um, how long have you been down here checking up on me?"
"Since late this morning."
The way he avoided making eye contact with you told you everything you needed to know about how much of the conversation between you and Nina he had overheard.
"Oh. Frater, I'm sorry," you apologized instantly, letting all of your desperation for his forgiveness seep into your tone. "We didn't realize anyone was listening. We probably got a little carried-"
"You said I was a good Papa," Copia interrupted, taking one of your hands and cradling it between both of his. The cool leather of his gloves felt buttery and soothing against your skin. "That I- I would do well as Frater."
You nodded, breathless at the way his thumb brushed over your palm.
Copia's tone went utterly serious, his mismatched eyes burning at you from within their rings of black face paint. "Tell me you meant every word."
All the air seemed to have left the room. Copia was ever the friendly face around the Ministry, bumbling and silly but always genuinely kind. But now… the Copia standing in front of you was closer to his onstage persona, commanding and utterly sure of himself.
"I did, Frate- Copia," you amended, feeling the sudden but undeniable instinct to use his name instead of his title. It was a fairly intimate conversation and something about dropping the 'Frater' just felt right. "I mean it. I believe it."
His gaze stayed intense as he gave a slow nod. You nodded along with him exactly once before his face crumpled and he began to cry again. Before you could think better of it, you wrapped the venerated head of your religion in a hug.
Copia wasn't the tallest man, nor the most muscular, but he had a comforting warmth and solidity. He immediately latched onto you like a drowning man clinging to an outstretched hand. This close, his hair and clothes held a hint of spicy scent, though you were at a loss to tell if it was cologne, the soap he had used during his last shower, or the lingering smell of a breakfast cinnamon roll.
Abruptly, Copia was a real person to you in a way he hadn't been before that moment. As you rocked the sobbing Frater in your arms, humming soothing nonsense, your stomach panged with guilt.
"We all pile a lot of expectations on you, don't we?" You said it using the same reassuring tone in which you had said everything else, but you knew Copia had processed the words when his posture stiffened. You rubbed his back, adding, "That's a lot of pressure. I hate to make assumptions, but… Well, if no one has told you directly, you're doing a great job."
He pulled back far enough to give you a watery smile. "You're going to make me cry again."
After a millisecond of thought, you realized that it would be less than helpful to point out that he hadn't actually stopped crying yet.
"I don't want to make you cry," you promised. "But if you heard Nina and I earlier, you know I said that you appreciate the unappreciated. It's not okay with me if you're the one left feeling unappreciated."
Copia smiled - not the polite grimace he gave to the Clergy or the mysterious half-smile he gave when he was amused by something private, but a real smile. You had only seen that smile once before, when it was directed at one of his rats who had hidden away in a pocket of his robes.
"Thank you, my dear." He took your head again, giving it a little squeeze. "It is lovely to feel… seen. It has been quite some time since I felt- felt as if someone… believes in me."
This time, when Copia started to cry, he was the one who initiated the hug. With his head tucked over your shoulder, he said, "And it is always nice to hear that I have a great ass."
You straightened up, shocked by the reminder of yet another ill-advised piece of your conversation and by the casual tone in which Copia mentioned it.
Copia's genuine laugh was a nice sound, especially so close to your ear. And, after you got over the pulse-pounding fear of being excommunicated, you even managed to join him.
---
Author's Note - As I put in the warnings, I'm definitely flying by the seat of my pants about how the Ministry is organized and what the Siblings' daily lives would be like. I also refuse to believe they wouldn't each have a favorite Papa and argue about which one was/is best!
As I also put in the warnings, this is another very ambiguous one-shot where Copia and reader's relationship is concerned. You could read it as pre-relationship or just bros helping bros (gn) and either one would be valid!
Thank you for reading! I'll be back next week with Perpetua fluff (as soon as I write it, oops). If you have any thoughts about Copia or advice about writing him, I would love to hear it!
Copia is being worked to the bone by Sister Imperator. His wife is begrudgingly dealing with it, until he misses date night and at last, she needs to teach him a lesson.
18+, sub Cardi, pegging, spanking, all that good stuff, 2.1k words
Copia sighs to himself, rubbing his temple with two fingers, and shuts down the computer on his desk. He looks to the clock mounted on the wall next to one of his many filing cabinets to the left of the door to his grand office, reading it as 8pm. Another late night for me. Good thing I live a floor away.
He picks up his briefcase and biretta that had been long discarded, throwing it on his head haphazardly, and marches himself out of his office.
The Cardinal was the only one wandering the office halls at this time; the other upper clergy would already be retiring to bed, finishing up at dinner, or partaking in evening prayer. But not Copia. His overbearing boss, Sister Imperator, decided that work came first and though Copia has an excellent worth ethic, the amount she was piling on him at the moment was quite frankly too much.
And it was just as he reached the door to the ministry-assigned apartment he shared with his wife that he realises he fucked up.
He'd missed date night.
Shit. Fuck.
Every curse word ran through his mind as he reaches his free, shaky hand to the doorknob. And he regretted it as soon as he walked inside.
The smell of homemade lasagne wafted through the door, freshly blown out candles sitting on the table alongside two plates. The one thing missing: you.
Copia throws his biretta on the small table next to the door alongside his briefcase, and runs his hands through his hair, “Amore?” He calls into the apartment, but receives no response.
He walks deeper into the apartment and opens the door to the bedroom, spotting you sitting on the bed, reading glasses on and a book in hand.
“You’re late.” You state, not looking up from the book in your hand.
His face falls, walking closer to the bed and sitting on the edge, “I’m sorry, amore. You know how hard Sister is working me at the moment.” He tugs his shoes off, depositing them in the corner.
You sigh and close the book, leaving it on the table next to the bed, “Copia, you promised me you would try to leave early today. What happened to, ‘Amore, of course I’ll be home for date night, I don’t care what Sister says’?”
“I lost track of time-”
“That’s what you say every night, Copia. I feel like I don’t even see you anymore.” You sigh out, frustrated, “You leave before I wake up and come home after I have dinner.”
He rises to his feet and begins to unbutton his cassock, “You know how much pressure Sister has me under- she's preparing me to become Papa. Yes, it’s exhausting, but I have no choice but to deal with it.” He hooks the discarded cassock onto a hanger and leaves it on the back of the door. He is left in his black clerical suit, suspenders pressing against his chest.
You can’t help but feel your panties getting damp, the urge to undress your husband you haven’t seen in what feels like weeks rising.
He continues to talk about the pressure Sister has him under, but all you can think about is pushing him onto his knees and forcing him to make it up to you.
“Papa Nihil still doesn’t see me as a worthy candidate to succeed the Third-”
You wander over, tugging the suspenders down his shoulders and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his clerical shirt. He stutters the next few words of his sentence, clearly as touch starved as you, allowing you to run your hands over his furry chest.
“Amore- what are you doing?”
“You want to make it up to me? Missing our date night? Making me feel like a single woman again?” You can see the blush rise to his face, “I don’t remember the last time you touched me. I’ve been relying on my old vibrator.”
He looks slightly embarrassed as you tug the shirt out of his tight dress pants, “Trust me, amore, I’ve been just as deprived.”
“Yeah? Why haven’t you done anything about it then?” You ponder.
He attempts to answer, but you rub your thumb over his sensitive, erect nipple. His response flies out of his head as all blood rushes from his brain downwards.
You notice the tent in his trousers, rubbing up against the side of your thigh, “Look how needy.” You pout mockingly in response to his almost inaudible whimper, “You want me to look after you?”
He nods, allowing you to fully strip him of his shirt and unbuckle his trousers, “Please...” He forces out.
“I think you deserve a punishment first, don’t you? For neglecting me all this time.”
His breath hitches at your words, becoming impossibly hard, “Si, si. Please, punish me.”
You allow his pants to drop, leaving him in his tight boxers, exposing his obvious boner.
“Kneel.” You demand, and he obeys quickly.
He drops to his knees, looking up at you with those large eyes. “Wait there.” He nods in response, adjusting his knees under his weight.
You march over to the closet in the corner, feeling him turn his face to watch you, “Face forward.” Once again, he does as he’s told obediently. The thought of him following your every order so happily turns you on more than you can admit.
You grab some things from the box at the bottom of the closet; rope, a blindfold, a cock ring and his favourite dildo- seven inches and nice and girthy.
You throw the items on the bed and sit next to them, “Underwear off. Now.”
He obeys, standing and tugging the boxers down his thick thighs. He stands in front of you completely naked, cock standing to attention, harder than he has been in months as a result of the deprivation.
“Come here.”
He understands what you want immediately, bending himself over your lap at the edge of the bed. You position his hard cock between your thighs, making him whimper at the feeling of your plush thighs hugging it, the only stimulation other than his hand that he’s had in months.
You run a hand over his pale ass cheeks, thumbing closer to the crack where his needy hole awaits.
The silence between the two of you and the feeling of your hand smoothing over his ass sets Copia on edge.
However, he is quickly broken out of his confusion when your hand meets his ass cheek, the stinging pain making him whimper out against the bedsheets.
“I think you deserve ten...” You muse, rubbing a hand over the reddening mark on his skin, “for the neglect.”
“Si. I deserve it.”
You hum at his words, “Good boy, always taking what you’re given.”
His eyes almost roll back at the words, how he’s missed this.
Your hand strikes his skin again, and again, alternating between his ass cheeks to make them bloom a rosy red. It hurts so good. Copia moans out as you continue, feeling his precum drip down onto the bedsheets from between your thighs.
“...And ten.” You bring your hand down one last time, reveling in the sharp sound that echoes in the room, alongside Copia’s adorable little whimper.
“Are you done, Padrona?”
Oh, he knows how much that nickname turns you on.
“I have other plans for you. On the bed.”
He lifts himself off your lap, getting on his hands and knees in the middle of the bed.
You almost moan at the sight; his smooth ass is blooming a gorgeous red at your hand, back arched just the way you like it.
You kneel on the bed behind him, taking his arms and tying them at the small of his back. You pull to verify he can get out if he really wants to, before tying the blindfold over his eyes, leaving him in anticipation of what’s next.
Copia rests his face against the bed, hearing the bedside draw slide open, the one he knows holds the lube, and feels himself getting even more excited.
The cold lube touches his cock as you rub it over him, sliding it over his velvety skin, before sliding the ring on to the base of his hard cock.
“You can come when I tell you to, yes?” You smirk at him, watching him completely at your mercy. He doesn’t respond, so you raise a hand to smack the underside of his thigh, “What do you say?”
“Si, padrona.” He groans out, feeling your hand inching closer to his needy hole.
The erotic sound of you lubing up your fingers fill the room, before you bring them to his asshole.
It puckers and twitches at your cold fingertips, and you press down to encourage it to give. Copia's body opens up for you, allowing you to experimentally push a finger down to the knuckle.
Copia's breath quickens, having missed the feeling of being filled.
“Good?” You check in quickly.
“Si, please keep going, padrona.”
You slowly add another finger to his puckered ass, slowly moving them in and out, trying to find that bundle of nerves that would drive him insane. His cock drips, precum leaking from his swollen head on to the bedsheets, where a small puddle is forming.
A third finger enters, and you drip some more lube onto his hole, allowing you to move them in and out at a quicker pace.
Your panties must be completely soaked through by now, the sounds Copia is making and the sight of his needy hole sucking in your fingers sending you mad.
At one particular movement, Copia cries out, throwing his head back and you know you’ve reached it. You continue hitting his prostate with the tips of your fingers, deep inside of him.
“Please, Padrona! It feels so good!” He cries out, back arching deeply.
You can feel his used hole pulsing against your fingers, before removing them abruptly, before he cums. He whines at the loss of your fingers.
You pull his ass cheeks apart, admiring the beautiful gape of his ass, clenching desperately at the ruined orgasm.
You deny him even touch as you rise off the bed and undress, not allowing him to see your naked body. You clip the harness around your thighs, before slotting the discarded dildo into the ring.
Despite not being able to see you, Copia knows exactly what you are doing, whimpering out a short, desperate please as you rejoin him on the bed.
You drip lube onto the large dildo, making sure it is nice and slick to avoid hurting him, and press it against his stretched hole. He lets you in easily, back arching to accommodate the large girth as you sheath the whole thing inside of him.
He stretches around the dildo, the pink rim of his asshole clenching desperately on the silicone.
His fists close around the bedsheets as you thrust, the large head of the dildo pressing against his sensitive prostate and making him sing. His hips press back against yours, meeting every thrust enthusiastically.
You reach down between his taut thighs to grab at his almost-purple cock, harder than you’ve ever seen it before, and jerk him quickly in rhythm with your powerful thrusts.
“Please- please, Padrona!” He hiccups out, “Please let me cum!”
You’re sure that the whole floor is able to hear him, the thought paired with the rubbing of the harness against your sensitive clit almost sending you over the edge.
“Imagine if the other siblings could see you now.” You sneer, “Papa prospect, taking it in the ass so well. If only they could see how beautifully you open up for me.”
His moans turn animalistic at your words, pressure building in his cock rapidly. He whimpers out a few little pleases with each thrust, body turning into a ragdoll as you grab at his bound arms and pull him back against your cock.
You can feel your own orgasm approaching. Wanting to come with him, you moan out a quick, “Cum, now.”
He obeys instantly, cum spurting from his softening cock and leaving a puddle of him on the bedsheets below. His used hole clenches desperately against the cock as he cums, and you give him one last thrust as you cum yourself, burying the large dildo deep inside him.
You two stay connected for a few more moments, before you pull of him, watching him gape around nothing, before untying his arms and blindfold.
He turns to lie back on the bed, watching you as you take off the harness and grab a damp cloth to wipe off your bodies.
A dopey smile creeps across his face, welcoming you into his arms as you both drift off into a dreamless sleep, the most peaceful sleep Copia has had since Sister Imperator began working him to the bone.
