Copia X Reader - Blog Posts

Te lo meriti! (CopiaxReader)

Summary: A birthday present for my dearest @nocturnal-birb I did my best and hope you like it. This also goes out to all you folks who feel this way and need a Papa’s support and reassurance.

Copia x Reader || Papa Emeritus iv x Reader || Fluff || Comfort Fic || Established Relationship || Poorly Translated Italian || WC: 1716

You stand before Copia’s door with a manilla folder in hand full of official documents for him to sign off on. There’s a few about his next sermon, some to do with the next tour, and notices from the clergy.

You gently rapped your knuckles against his door, loud enough to get his attention while your other hand brushes invisible dust off your habit and straightens the small amount of wrinkles. You wish you had more time to tidy up. Your hair was being very uncooperative today and you had been in such a rush this morning that you had forgone makeup.

You hoped he wouldn’t mind that you didn’t look your best. However, knowing Copia, it’s not because of your makeup that he’s always staring at your face with his dopey lovesick eyes. You smile at imagining him getting distracted again in the midst of paperwork coercing you that neither of you get any work done.

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restroom detour - cardinal copia x female!reader

you're out with your friends at the new local hot spot: the pinnacle lounge. a trip to find the bathroom has you stumbling into something not for your eyes.

notes: 2.1k word count, mdni! 18+! there be smut here. also i just love me some sweet cardi. ao3 link.

You and your friends were chattering away at the bar, drinks in hand. It had been a long work week and you were happy to be out with friends to blow off some steam. The Pinnacle Lounge had seemingly popped up overnight in your town and quickly gained a reputation for being a unique, good time. 

The moment you stepped in earlier that night, you could see why. There were people dressed as nuns and priests, some wearing shiny masks and suspenders, mixed in with those dressed for a night out. The color scheme for the bar was black and gold while the lights shifted from neon green to a bright purple as the night wore on.

The music thumps and you all bop long with it. At this point, you are feeling pretty good as you finish up your second drink. 

“I gotta pee!” You chirp cheerfully, giving everyone a small wave as you walk away. You set your empty glass down on the bar and take a look around.

“Fuck.”

You realize you have absolutely no idea where you are going. A few people bump into you as you make your way around the perimeter of the bar before you come upon a dark hallway. There is a door that looks like it has some kind of fancy “G” on it and you assume it’s the women’s bathroom.

The moment you open the door and step inside no less than ten eyes are on you. They were all wearing cloaks, concealing their entire bodies and were peering out of their hoods at you. It was dark enough in the room that you couldn’t see their faces. You finally take in your surroundings, the low glow of black candles lining the room, the smell of incense flooding your nostrils. Your gaze settles on the black altar in front of you and you draw in a gasp.

A naked woman is spread atop it, a pentagram drawn in blood on her stomach. A man was between her legs, his fingers digging into her hips as he glares at you, his mismatched eyes sending chills down your spine. His face was painted like a skull and he wore a black robe with gold details, his dark hair hanging in his face.

“Uh…uh…sorry!” Your voice sounds incredibly high-pitched as you back out of the room.

You can feel your heart beating out of your chest as you slam the door shut behind you, your feet carrying you towards the end of the hall. A man exits one of the other doors, stepping out right in front of you and you collide with a thud. For the brief second you are touching, you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Eh, mi dispiace, mi dispiace.” He mumbles, his hands moving to grip your arms to help you catch your balance.

You look up at him and the first thing you notice are his eyes – the same ones that you had seen in the room. A jolt of fear causes you to jump back from him and he releases your arms, his eyes widening. He is wearing a cassock and biretta and his dark paint around his eyes were somewhat smudged.

“Are you alright, cara?” Copia sounds genuinely concerned, his accent thick as he reaches his hand out to you. You stare at it for a moment then you take another step back. 

“T-there are people in one of the rooms doing weird stuff.” The words spill out of your mouth, your brain too rattled to describe exactly what you saw.

“Ah, yes… the ritual.” He sighs softly, sounding almost annoyed. “No need to be afraid, cara. They are just, eh, partaking in carnal pleasures.”

“But-but the candles and the cloaks and the blood!” 

“How can I explain this to you?” Copia ponders aloud, his white eye glowing in the darkness. He looks around the hallway, his gaze settling on a bench against the back wall of the hallway. “Come.” His hand finds yours, pulling at it gently as he moves toward the bench. You realize he is wearing leather gloves, your eyes falling to the one in your hand, noticing the “G” symbol on it.

You wobble after him, your platform boots clunking as you pull your dress down with your free hand. He settles on the bench, carefully pulling you close to him as your knees touch. His hand still held yours, his thumb brushing it as his free hand removed his biretta. Brown hair spills out from underneath and he smooths it neatly back. His eyes were soft, contrasting with the sharpness of his nose and his dramatic eye paint.

“So, you’ve seen the inverted crosses around the bar, correct?

“Y-yes.”

“Good. I am a member of the clergy that owns and operates this bar. It is meant as a safe space for everyone to come, have fun, be themselves and… partake in sin.” His lips curl into a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. You feel a blush creep up your cheeks.

“But not in a harmful way. The ritual you walked in on is very safe, very controlled. It is meant to represent, eh, the procreation of the antichrist.”

You stare at him dumbly, feeling that you are too drunk for this conversation. Copia smiles warmly at you, letting go of your hand and bringing his up to your cheek to caress it gently. “The things  you saw that frightened you are merely decoration to help establish the mood. It’s meant to be fun; it’s meant to be dramatic… it’s meant to be erotic.” 

You can feel heat start to rise between your legs by his words, causing you to squeeze your thighs together. Of course, he notices, and drops his finger to your chin, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. Your lips part as you shiver from his touch, your wide eyes meeting his duochromatic gaze. 

“Does this make you feel better about what you saw, dolce?” He purrs, inching his face even closer to yours. His smile has turned from sweet to seductive, his eyes shining mischievously. You can only bring yourself to nod and your nose brushes against his as you do so. A shuddered breath leaves your lips as you find your hands find his chest.

Copia takes this as his opening and presses his lips to yours tenderly. You can taste the alcohol on his soft lips, your hands traveling up his chest to the back of his neck. He sighs against you, deepening the kiss as his tongue slips into your mouth as he pulls you in close. His hands start to wander down your sides, settling on your ass before he slips them under your dress. 

You moan softly as he starts to massage it, the feeling of his leather gloves on your sensitive skin sending shivers down your spine. His teeth tug at your bottom lip as he pulls away from you, giving you ass one last squeeze as his fingers drift to pull your dress down for you. Copia then grabs your legs and pulls them into his lap.

He is paying so much attention to you, despite the silence between you both. It’s a comfortable silence as he caresses your legs (and you are mentally patting yourself on the back for shaving them that day). The fear of the ritual you had witnessed is completely gone now, your mind and body at ease as you settle into Copia’s lap.

This was not how you thought your night was going to go but you are not complaining. This was the most you’ve been touched by someone in a long time, having given up on dating a while ago and you weren’t typically one to put yourself out there like this. Something about him, the way he gazed at you, the way he cared enough to explain away what you had seen… 

His fingers start to drift to your inner thighs, drawing small circles as they continue to move up. You swallow thickly, wide eyes looking back at him as your cheeks flush. Your legs spread ever so slightly, allowing him to continue further up your thigh. 

“Is this okay, dolce?” Copia whispers, brushing his fingers even higher. Your face is completely flushed now, the closer he gets to your cunt the more wet it becomes. There is some nervousness buzzing around in the back of your head – despite being hidden by the darkness of the hallways, you were still in a public place. But again… this bar was owned and operated by a satanic organization…

“Yes…please.” 

He pulls your underwear to the side, his fingers dipping into your wet folds. Copia hums in approval, then presses one his fingers against your entrance. You shudder, grabbing on to his cassock and pulling him close. His nose brushes against your cheek before settling his face in your neck, breathing you in deeply. 

“Such a naughty girl.” He growls against you, his finger curling upward, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside you. Your hips buck at the feeling, squeezing your lips shut as a moan bumbles up your throat. You feel him chuckle against your neck then presses a kiss to it as he slips another finger inside.

He starts to kiss, bite and suck at your neck, and by now you are feeling drunk off of him. You can tell by how roughly he’s moving his mouth on your neck that he’s leaving marks all over you. Your lips are quivering now, trying desperately to hold in your sounds which is all but impossible now as he adds a third finger. 

Copia pumps his fingers in and out of you, quickening his pace as he relentlessly presses into your bundle of nerves. Your entire body is trembling, your hips jerking wildly against his fingers. At this point, you’re over being discreet as breathy moans spill from your lips. 

Your hands move to grip at his shoulders, nails digging into them as you squeeze your eyes shut. He’s growling against you now and you can feel the vibration rumble of them down through your chest. Your muscles start to spasm and tense as the rest of your body trembles, a sharp cry rising from your lungs as your orgasm falls over you.

Your chest heaves as you start to come down from the high, feeling even more hazy than before. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, hovering there for a moment as you feel his warm breath on you before he pulls away. “I am very glad we ran into each other tonight, dolce.” He purrs, bringing his fingers up to taste them. You’re still recovering as your mouth drops open, watching him. “Ehm… why did you walk into that room in the first place?”

“Oh, well…” You feel a pang of embarrassment in your chest as you chuckle quietly. “I was looking for the bathroom.” 

He breaks out into a brilliant, toothy smile. “Tesoro, it’s right behind you — eh, if you still have to go.” 

“I probably should now.” You grin as you swing your legs off of his lap, your boots clunking to the floor. He pulls your dress down for you as you stand and you can feel yourself start to blush again. “Thank you.” You squeak before scurrying to the bathroom. 

Once inside, you do your business while your mind is exploding, thinking about what just happened. What did just happen? You got finger fucked by a stranger in a bar after witnessing a satanic ritual simulating the procreation of the antichrist. Maybe this was a typical Friday night for The Pinnacle Lounge.

Your legs are still trembling from the intensity of the orgasm, wobbling as you make your way to the mirror. There are very obvious red marks all along your neck as well as some black smudges from his eye paint. You think about trying to wipe some of it off, or at least try to make some of the marks less noticeable for a second before you decide… fuck it.

As you wash your hands, you start to panic, thinking that maybe he won’t be out there waiting for you. It wouldn’t be the end of the world but — you really wanted him to be there. There was something about him that just drew you to him. Again, your mind turns back to how sweet he was with you and how handsome he was.

When you leave the bathroom, he is standing near the bench, waiting for you. He looks like he is almost nervous, his cheeks flushed as he turns his biretta over in his hands.

“Dolce, I’ve realized we have, ehm, kind of done things a bit backwards tonight.” His lips twitch into a small smile, reaching for your hand. You immediately place your hand in his and he presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “I’m Cardinal Copia… ehm, will you allow me to buy you a drink?”

Hi can you pleaaaaassse do HCs about Copias corruption kink I’ll literally die

Have a little short nonny.

Who does Papa turn to for confession with all his predecessors dead?

Copia has to try hard to convince himself once in a while. He’s a good man. He’s an honest man, well, sure, there's a little white lie once in a while, but he’s never hurt anybody with it. He’s never stolen, and he’s worked hard to get where he is now. (Even though he’s almost certain his name was drawn from a hat.) He keeps everything tidy. He’s frank. He’s polite. He’s a good man.

But his eyes are on you.

You’re new to the sisterhood and still wet behind the ears, with your habit on proper and not a hair out of place. You’re bright, you’re shiny, you’re fresh. You have a soft voice, a shy smile, and despite being a Sister of Sin, you have innocent eyes. He always sees you working, helping someone with their tasks or chores, volunteering to do more. You’re wonderful with the children, compassionate with the ghouls, and come up with fun games for both of them. You’re full of energy, your kind, you have such a sweet smile and give it to everyone, including him, you light up like a festive float anytime you cross someone in the halls. You're just so…pure.

And he wants to see you absolutely destroyed. He wants to see your mascara running with tears down your flushed cheeks. He wants to see your lipstick smeared and your lips puffy and kiss swollen. He was to see your neck decorated with a choker of bruises. He wants to see your tits suckled with bite marks. He wants to see your pussy, puffy and gummed with his leaking cum. He wants to take this pure ray of sunshine and turn it into the dirtiest fucking poster whore he can. He wants to wreck you in every way possible. Stain you in such a way nobody else will want you.

He’s a good man. He swears.

But any time he gets alone in his office, he imagines you and his cock throbs. He imagines you in his office dressed in all manner of skimpy things. Sometimes, it's your habit. Sometimes, it's a cute little plaid skirt. But more often, it's something white. Whatever it is he's flipping up your dress to slide off your cute panties (polka-dot, soft little clouds, even kittens) and stuffing his face between your thighs until your legs are quivering and you can barely stand. He imagines fingering your tight cunt and curling his digits until you sob his name just right and licks his lips at the thought of getting you to squelch.

He wonders if you’ve ever sucked cock before. He wraps a hand around his dick as it jumps at the thought that he’d be your first. Your eyes wide in alarm as he reveals to you his thick fat member and guides your hands down to wrap around it and get a feel for just how large he is. He’s the thickest you’ve ever had.

He imagines you swallowing nervously and looking up at him with a hint of fear.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” He promises. Oh don’t worry, he will. He’ll be gentle up until he manages to get half of it down your throat and then shoves in the other half without remorse. He’ll apologize. ‘An accident.’ He swears. But after that first gag and those first tracks of tears down your cheeks you’ll get the idea. You’ll try your hardest to get all of him down your throat, your pretty pink lips stretched around his cock and shiny with precum, spit, and your cherry chapstick.

He’d shower you with compliments and praise. You’d love it. He’ll help you discover your kink for it.

“Doing so good, taking me so well.” Your face would flush, and your thighs would rub together. You gag, you try your hardest to take him but your jaw hurts and he pulls you off gently by your chin and slaps your cheek with his wet, spit slick cock.

“Look at what you're doing to me. All that is for you. You're making me feel so good. Look how hard and wet I am for you." And you're wet and frustrated before he guides you to the bed and has you lay down. He pulls your legs apart and lines himself up.

Belial, you would be so tight, or perhaps it’s just been too long for you. Either way, you grip him like a vice and whimper when he stuffs you with his cock, he can feel your walls sucking him in and flexing around him as he pushes further and further into you and-

Copia grunts as the band in his lower stomach snaps and cum jets from his cock. He tightens his hand over his dick and squeezes before slowly gliding his fist over his shaft and milks himself of his release.

He sighs, slouching on his bed pillows, and lets his orgasm rumble through him. Then he reaches the nightstand and takes a few tissues, and cleans himself up.

This is always where the fantasy ends. He simply can’t help himself.

Satanas, what he would give for the real thing.

He's in the midst of cleaning up for the night when he hears a knock from his door and goes to answer only to finding you there with a flush on your face, that same flush he had been fantasizing about mere minutes ago. You're wearing a simple but thin tee-shirt with cartoon characters and a pair of shorts.

"Hello Papa...do you have a minute to talk?" And you're shifting your thighs just so, and he can't help but glance at your cleavage so obviously pronounced in your shirt. There, he sees a ruby red fabric with white circles, just barrly oeaking out from the low collar of your shirt.

Polka-dots.

And well...

...He does try very hard to be a good man.

Satan’s Toy Box

Hello anon!  Thank you for the prompt and I hope you enjoy what I came up with!  

~ As the owner of the local sex toy shop you find yourself developing a crush on a Cardinal from the local Satanic church ~

The prompt was: attempting to find out if they are single/available

Cardinal Copia x GN Reader (nsfw, 18+, mdni)

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Today was going to be the day.

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