Sign The Fucking Papers, Danny

"Smoochs all of them especially terzo"

My HCs on How the Papas Feel About Their Looks:

Primo presents himself as not giving a fuck about something as asinine and tedious as to whether or not he’s good-looking. It’s unimportant and stupid. Internally, though, he thinks he’s quite good-looking even now.

Secondo is aware that he is good-looking and isn’t above using it to his advantage with a willing party. He also knows he’s a bit of an acquired taste and takes no offense to that. It just means he’s gotta work just a tiiiny bit harder to get the one he has his eye on to openly swoon over him:

Terzo is aware others think he’s good-looking, and is willing to play around with it. However, he doesn’t actively see himself as particularly handsome. Not anymore, at least. He probably thought better of himself in his youth when he was still “new and full of hope (and cream pies)”, but that has since dwindled until he hated to think about himself. I think on average, he knows he isn’t necessarily ugly but doesn’t think he’s that far above average. But he’ll willingly present himself as completely confident in his looks and try to fulfill the image expected of a handsome man.

Copia is similar to Terzo in that doesn’t think he’s good-looking but will play along as such. But I think they differ in why they do so. Terzo’s is more akin to just sighing and going along with it — might as well, he’s already become begrudgingly used to playing along for the sake of others. Copia’s is born more from growing up lonely and ridiculed and associating that with something about him being wrong or unpleasant. That, and we know he apparently has some specific ideas of what a Papa should look like. He’s pretty positive the only reason anyone is “attracted” to him now is because of his power and the charisma he must exert while performing. Otherwise, he only has sparse moments when he thinks highly of his looks. But I think he’s learning to become okay with himself.

Conclusion: Smooch these stupid old men🫵🏽

A stale one at that.

(ID in ALT text!)

This is my new canon from now on

I really can't get over this post by @ficandkaboodle about V admiring Copia but being shy vs. Copia interpreting everything as a personal attack, so I had to draw it. No idea what their dynamic is actually going to be, but I want to play in this space for a bit.

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I will read it later

Dawn Chorus - VII

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 6.8k.

Reading Time: 28 min.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, blood drinking, corruption kink, drunk sexual content, dubcon (due to drunk sexual content), fear kink, fingering, frottage, graphic injuries, getting drunk, masturbation, mentions of sexual harassment, multiple orgasms, nipple play, PTSD, rape kink, vaginal fingering, virgin kink

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @dolceterzo @whitepawfics @howlingco @sirianisrock

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this fic is quite dark, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my decision. Thank you.

Copia winced at the sound of Mountain’s screams, the agony in his voice too much to bear. Still, he didn’t look away. He wanted to show that he was there for his loyal ghoul, even if this whole ordeal was his fault in the first place. He couldn’t look away because he wanted Mountain’s pain to be his, and prayed to the Dark One that his ghoul would heal soon, and more painlessly than this. The guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of the unintended consequences of his actions.

The medical staff were doing their best to treat the demon’s burns, using Hellfire to cauterise the would and hope that it would heal his burn, and strengthen him. But, they could only hope, as none of the staff were old enough to remember the last time an angel fell into the hands of the Ministry and had to do this. Hell, even Copia wasn’t old enough to remember that and he was pushing 300.

Copia felt a sense of shame tightening its grasp on his heart like a vice as his mind returned to the terrifying scene of your fall. When you needed your wings the most, they failed you, and he had watched helplessly as you crashed into the ground. He’d been overcome in that little moment by a feeling of dread, a deep-seated terror that seemed determined to swallow him whole.

He had never been one to run from difficulties, but seeing you in pain had touched something deep inside of him, bringing regret and grief that he had long buried to the surface. He carried the heavy burden of ensuring the security and welfare of his fellow demons as the head of the Ministry, but he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he had let you down when you were most in need. You were in unbearable pain, as was Mountain, and Sister Imperator was breathing down his neck the entire time because he was disappointing her as well. The world was spinning too fast and he just wanted to get off.

Copia felt sorry for you, going over the day’s events in his head in an attempt to find any indication that he could have done more to keep you from falling. Had he been too complacent, too consumed by his own goals to notice his imminent danger? Or had circumstances worked against him, creating a tragic mosaic that was out of his control? Was this infernal intervention to get him to admit to his wrongdoings, and his deep-rooted emotions that he pushed down and down until he could no longer feel them? Perhaps the Dark One was disappointed by him, too.

Copia’s thoughts were plagued by the image of your fall, a constant reminder of your frailty and the harsh turns of events that have the power to break even the most resilient souls. He could still clearly remember the awful feeling in the pit of his stomach as he saw you fall from the sky, your elegant shape swishing and tumbling through the air like a leaf caught in a hurricane. His stomach lurched.

In that heart-stopping moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl, each passing second stretching out into an eternity as Copia’s mind raced with a thousand unanswered questions. How had it come to this? What unseen force had conspired to bring you to the brink of disaster? And most importantly, what could he do to save you from the impending doom that threatened to consume you whole?

The weight of guilt settled heavily upon Copia’s shoulders as he confronted the painful truth that lay at the heart of his turmoil. In the business of the medical wing, with Mountain’s cries as background music, and the echoes of your fall still ringing in his ears, he could no longer ignore the role he had played in your suffering.

The regret he felt for his deeds, his brutality, and his selfishness returned to haunt him with every instant that went by. It was like a never-ending wave of shame that was about to swallow him whole. He remembered the way he had kept you trapped, a helpless prisoner in his domain, subjecting you to unspeakable torment and degradation at his hands.

The insight came to him like a tonne of bricks, bringing to light the depths of his own depravity. He had wielded his power over you like a weapon, using your vulnerability to satisfy his own twisted desires and gratify his basest impulses. In his arrogance and pride, he had convinced himself that he held dominion over you, that you were nothing more than a plaything to be used and discarded at his whim.

But Sathanas, he couldn’t ever forget the way you looked on your knees for him, his thumb in your mouth and those big, wide, innocent eyes staring up at him in confusion, hatred and fear. The way the pigment of your lips stretched over his thumb, the feeling of your tongue laving over his skin as you sucked on the appendage, completely oblivious to the way all the blood in his body was gathering at his cock, and his half-full length screaming at him, begging him to push you onto your back, lift your robes and defile you completely. He couldn’t help but think of the sounds you’d make, if you enjoyed it or would want him to stop. How loud would your pleasure make you scream for him? Or would you long for the safety of your cage as he ravaged you not two metres away from it?

Of course, when he finally had you hanging off his cock, it would be consensual. He was a lot of things, but a filthy misogynist wasn’t one of them. That was the thing that separated the Satanic church from their Catholic siblings, and something he prided himself on. If he fucked you, it would be because you wanted him to. It was half of the reason why he spent so long being so kind to you - that whole event in his chamber where you were on your knees taking what he gave you, you didn’t consent. It was likely that you had no idea that you even needed to, meaning you couldn’t give your consent. He’d broken the one rule he told himself to abide by, and the guilt was eating him alive. And while none of his subsequent actions could make him atone for his sins, he would do the most to make sure he got close enough to it.

But the fact that he’d never do that again didn’t stop him from thinking about it all the time, wrapping his hand around his cock in the shower and imagining how you’d feel beneath him. You’d get so wet for him, willingly or otherwise. Those big, wide eyes staring at him as he took you on his chamber floor, using your body for his own pleasure. You would be his vulnerable, little plaything, and you’d come to enjoy the feel of him buried deep inside you eventually, if you didn’t enjoy the first time you spent together.

Those fantasies would remain thoughts he had in the shower, though. And he’d only act on them with your permission further down the road. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He’d be better than he was before. He swore that. He could and would never hurt you again, no matter how much his mother wanted him to.

Mountain was going to be okay. The nurses worked hard and tirelessly to take away his pain and make him comfortable, but it did mean that he would be out of commission for a short while. Copia couldn’t help but count his blessings at this, now that everything in his life was quiet save for you. And it was to you that his thoughts turned to next.

He made his way back towards his apartments and opened the door slowly, unsure of where you’d be. You were nowhere in the living room, and so he assumed he’d find you in his bedroom - the assumption being correct.

You’d healed, Copia had no doubt that was to do with the fact that you wore your halo for the first time in a long time, and so he didn’t brace himself to see you as the mangled mess you were not one hour ago when you made impact with the ground. But you were curled up in a ball in front of your cage, your wings wrapped around you as though you were holding yourself, comforting yourself like a child who’d been hurt or abandoned by the ones they loved the most.

When Copia saw you curled up on the ground with your wings wrapped around you like a shield, his heart fell. His chest constricted with a twinge of empathy as he saw the anguish carved into your features and the tears still glistening on your cheeks.

He stood motionless in the doorway for a moment, not knowing what to say or do. He wanted to be there for you, to give you some measure of solace, but he was too consumed by the guilt that still weighed heavily on his mind. It was him, after all, who had placed you in this situation, who had caused you to endure unspeakable horrors, and who had caused you to suffer unfathomable pain.

Copia sighed heavily and moved slowly towards you so as not to startle you. He squatted next to you, his hand tentatively hovering over your shoulder before settling it gently. “Angel,” he said quietly, his voice full of sincere worry. “Are you alright?”

He was waiting tensely for your reply, praying beyond prayer that you would let him confide in you, that you would let him feel your suffering and give you the comfort you sorely needed. However, he knew deep down that his regret would always be overshadowed by the weight of his actions and that words could never make up for the harm he had done.

You were silent for a moment, slowly raising your head to meet the Cardinal’s gaze as the significance of his presence began to register. Your eyes scanned his face for any indication of sincerity or regret, a mixture of pain and uncertainty.

“I…” Your voice caught in your throat as a tumultuous storm of emotions whirled around you. When you did finally say, “I do not know,” your voice was hardly audible above a whisper.

Your words carried a heavy weight of vulnerability, a silent cry for empathy and understanding. You wanted to think the Cardinal genuinely cared about you and was sorry for the suffering he had brought upon you. However, uncertainty lurked in the background of your thoughts, muttering flashbacks of past crimes and broken pledges.

The Cardinal’s hand stayed on your shoulder, a reassuring touch in the thick of your unstable feelings. You leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his closeness despite the doubts that kept popping into your head.

You were overcome with a hectic mix of emotions following the fall. Your body was in excruciating pain at the time, a never-ending reminder of the blow and the wounds it had caused. Though now healed, you could still feel how your body had snapped and bent with gravity, your teeth numb with the fear that rose in you, and the flashback of falling from grace. However, the most excruciating part turned out to be the emotional turmoil.

As you struggled to accept your vulnerability, anxiety took hold of your heart. Any illusions of invincibility had been shattered by the fall, and you were suddenly very much aware of your own existence. You felt exposed and defenceless, in stark contrast to the confident persona you had previously projected.

You felt torn about the Cardinal’s attempt at consolation. You recognised the sincerity of his concern in his gesture, and you were grateful for it. Knowing that he was concerned for your welfare was comforting, particularly during such vulnerable times.

But his presence also acted as a sharp reminder of your complicated relationship. It was impossible to get rid of the remaining mistrust and anger that had built up over time, even with his best attempts to provide comfort. Anything sincere he did now was clouded by his past deeds, which included taking you captive and causing you pain.

A part of you wanted to give in to his comfort and let yourself be supported by him. However, there was also a part of you that was cautious, unwilling to lower your defences and make yourself more vulnerable. He had slashed deep wounds, and healing would require more than words of consolation.

“The ghoul,” you began, sitting up from your position and looking at the Cardinal with wet eyes, “will he be alright?”

The Cardinal nodded. “Takes a lot more than angel tears to bring down the Mountain.” He smiled half-heartedly. “What happened up there?”

“I do not know… not completely. My muscles cramped and I could not regain strength. It did not matter how hard I tried, I could not get my wings to work again.” You started to cry again. “I beg of thee, please do not put me back in that cage again. I did not mean to hurt others.”

It was almost as though you could hear the Cardinal’s heart shattering at your words. The Cardinal’s face softened, regret and sympathy present in his features. He extended his hand hesitantly, as though he wasn’t sure if it would be accepted or rejected. He softly reassured you, “I won’t put you back in the cage,” his voice full of genuine sorrow. “I promise.”

There was silence for a brief moment, broken only by the sound of your sniffles and the gentle hum of the room’s ventilation system. You found yourself grappling with conflicting emotions, torn between the desire to accept the Cardinal’s comfort and the instinct to maintain your guard.

You were nervous as the Cardinal helped you off the floor, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He fastened your wings firmly to keep you from escaping by tying them together with the same chain he’d used previously. He had plans for you, plans that involved taking you somewhere, and you felt a twinge of uneasiness.

He told you to follow him, and you did, keeping quick steps to make sure you didn’t fall behind, as he walked you through the Ministry’s corridors and down multiple flights of stairs. Your mind began to race when you realised he was taking you to the basement. Your memory flooded with how you were treated and how you felt when you first were taken there, and your heart raced with the fear that it was going to happen again. Your whole body froze, making the Cardinal turn around a few paces in front of you, and study you for a moment.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I do not wish to go down there again.” You said quietly.

The Cardinal paused, clearly confused, but when he fully registered your body language, he sighed. “You’ll be fine.” He told you, walking back towards you. “We’re not going all the way down to the bottom.”

“Where will we go?”

“Somewhere you can relax and forget about today.” He tugged at your hand. “Let’s go.”

At the base of the stairs that led to the cellar, you hesitated, but the Cardinal steadily held your arm and led you on. The air was thick with the smell of aged wine, and the stone walls were covered in long shadows by the low light.

“Come on, Angel,” the Cardinal urged, his voice soft yet insistent. “It’ll do you good to relax for a bit.”

With uncertain glances up at him, you twitched nervously behind your wings. Even though you weren’t sure about it, there was a part of you that wanted a little break from your problems.

The scent of aged oak and fermenting grapes filled the air as he guided you down to the wine cellar. The long shadows that the low lighting cast against the stone walls heightened the atmosphere of mystery in the subterranean room.

Shivering from the cold, you let the Cardinal pull you deeper as you sighed, taking in the new surroundings. The walls were lined with rows upon rows of wooden barrels, each one holding priceless liquid gold. Stone archways covered each of the rows, as though they were doorways to entirely different rooms.

The Cardinal moved with purpose, selecting a particular bottle and uncorking it with practiced ease. He poured a generous measure of wine into a crystal glass, sparkling in the orange glow of the candlelight, the rich red liquid glinting as it gathered in the cup.

“Here you go,” he said, offering you the glass with a small smile. “A little something to take the edge off.”

You accepted the glass hesitantly, your fingers trembling slightly as you brought it to your lips. The Cardinal watched you intently, his gaze unwavering as you took a hesitant sip.

The wine was unlike anything you had ever tasted before, the flavour bursting across your tongue in a symphony of sensations. It was warm and velvety, with hints of oak and berries dancing on the palate.

Despite your initial reservations, you found yourself taking another sip, then another, until the glass was empty. A warmth spread through your veins, suffusing you with a sense of contentment you hadn’t felt in ages.

The Cardinal placed the bottle down onto a nearby table, and wandered to a different archway, grabbing a bottle you recognised. It was one of the bottles he’d used the last time he’d drained you. He poured himself a glass as well, taking a long sip before setting the glass down on . He leaned against the wall and gestured for you to sit, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“You alright there, Angel?” He asked, his voice soft with genuine concern. “You seem a bit… tense.”

You nodded slowly, the alcohol already starting to cloud your thoughts. “I’m fine,” you replied, your words slurring slightly. “Just… adjusting, I suppose.”

The Cardinal chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, you’re in good company,” he said, taking another sip of blood.

“Cardinal,” you began once you took another sip of wine, “why have you not told the Sister the truth about my halo? Why have you stopped the second ritual?”

The Cardinal sighed and sat down opposite you. “So many questions.”

“I would appreciate an answer.”

“You ask one, I ask one. Deal?”

You nodded. “Why have you not told the Sister the truth?”

“At first it was because of… because I was drunk. But then, I just didn’t want to.” He took a sip of blood. “Why haven’t you escaped yet?”

“At the outset, it was by reason of my frailty. But at present… I find myself in doubt. Pray tell, why did you halt the second ritual?”

“As an apology for my actions.” He refused to make eye contact with you. “I violated you once… the second ritual meant I’d have to do it again.”

You knew that, of course, but hearing him admit to it was something else. “What course of action do you intend to pursue?”

“No, it’s my turn to ask you a question. What’s Yhwh’s plan?”

As far as you knew, even angels were in the dark about Yhwh’s plan. You had been raised to believe that everything takes place in accordance with God’s divine plan and to put your trust in His wisdom and guidance. But recent occurrences had called into question this belief.

You have seen the pain and injustice done to His children, the cruelty and deceit committed in His name. It caused you to wonder if God really did have a plan or if He has just let His creations go free, to be determined by human foolishness and the randomness of luck.

You could only speculate as to the details of His plan. Maybe it was putting His children to the test in terms of their faith and courage, challenging them to overcome hardship and grow stronger as a result. Or perhaps it was about pointing them in the direction of righteousness and enlightenment by imparting to them the true meaning of forgiveness and compassion.

You’d not seen much of that forgiveness and compassion. You wondered if it was even there at all.

You cleared your throat. “If I were privy to such knowledge, I would readily disclose it. Alas, it escapes me, for I am not allowed such insight. Only the Ophanims and beings of higher echelons hold such secrets. What about the second ritual - what does it include?”

The Cardinal nodded in understanding, then spoke. “We have to tempt you with the thing you really wanted; we have to make you need it, crave it… do anything for it. We know what you want, we were going to make you beg for it.”

You paused, considering asking a follow up question but remembering he wouldn’t let you.

“Tell me about the angels. This hierarchy you mentioned… what are you?”

“There are 9 levels of divine power, and I am on the ninth level. I am just a regular angel, there is nothing special about me. The closest to the Almighty are the Seraphims, followed by Cherubims, Ophanims, Dominions, Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangels… then me.” You let your information soak in before you took another sip of your wine, you could feel the lightheadedness really begin to take effect now. Your entire body felt warm, relaxed, almost limp. It was a fight to stay upright. “What happens when the Sister finds out that you are lying to her?”

“I don’t know exactly - I just know it’s not gonna be good.” The Cardinal’s words were beginning to slur, the effects of your blood clearly taking hold of him as the wine had taken you. “I’d be forced to step down as head of the Church probably, and she’d take control of your interrogation. And she has so many plans for you. She’d be so much worse than me.”

That you didn’t doubt. In such a short time, and with little interactions, you had a feeling she’d take joy in destroying you. And suddenly, you found yourself grateful for the Cardinal.

“I can’t stop thinking about the other day,” the Cardinal began, looking at you directly in your eyes, “what I did to you when I had control of your halo. I know Celestial beings are supposed to be pure, but did you know what I was doing?”

“I knew that it was sexual.” You replied, honestly. “And I saw that you liked it. Why did you stop?”

“Because you didn’t consent. Did you want me to stop?”

You nodded a little. “Then, I did. But now…”

The Cardinal let out a short exhale, “You’re unsure.” He finished his glass and poured you both another. At this point in the night, it was your third glass each.

“Why did you feel the need to exert control over me in that way?” You asked, taking another sip. “Was it just a display of power, or was there something else driving your actions?”

“Something else. I wasn’t in control of myself. My body did what it wanted. And the sight of you, on your knees, eyes wide and unsure. I wanted to make you cry. I wanted to feel you from the inside out.”

The Cardinal’s words were having an effect on you, more than you ever knew could be possible. A weird feeling swept through you as the Cardinal’s words passed over you. It was a stirring of something deeper within you, not fear or disgust as one might expect. There was an irresistible charm to his candour, a rawness that appealed to the primitive urges hidden deep within your celestial essence, even though his confession was unsettling.

You were drawn to his vulnerability in sharing such personal thoughts with you and enthralled by the intensity of his desires. It was as though a curtain had been drawn back to show you a side of the Cardinal you had only ever seen during the shadow of secrecy and darkness. It was odd, but you found yourself drawn to it, drawn to him, in a way that excited and scared you at the same time.

Something inside you sparked at the Cardinal’s admission, an innate desire that throbbed beneath the surface of your celestial body. Something pulled at the very fabric of your being, a sensation unlike anything you had ever felt before—a blending of curiosity and desire. And as you locked eyes with him, there was a silent understanding that grew between you, an acceptance of the unspoken truths that united you in ways you could not have fully imagined.

If he did the same thing to you now - you weren’t confident you’d push him away.

The Cardinal studied you intently, his eyes following the minute changes that danced over your heavenly body. Your essence seemed to pulse with a newfound intensity that reflected his own desires, and he could feel the shift in your energy. You had a hunger in your eyes, a primal longing that expressed so much without saying a word.

The Cardinal felt a rush of excitement and anticipation as soon as he realised that you were sincere about your feelings. It set his senses alight and made his pulse race. He was drawn into the depths of a connection that felt both forbidden and irresistible by the flicker of desire dancing in your eyes. It was a silent invitation that beckoned him closer.

He stood and walked over to you, that same predatory look in his eye that this time, you welcomed. You were going to blame it on the alcohol, but perhaps that would be your first lie.

“Do you like the thought of that, Angel?” He teased, approaching you slowly as if you would run from him at the slightest movement.

You found yourself nodding, unable to stop yourself before you realised the implications of what you’d just confirmed. He stood in front of you, reaching his gloved hand to place it on your chin and allow the leather atop his thumb to graze over your lips a second time.

You swallowed, “Wh-why are you turning m-me into a demon?” You asked, breathlessly, still trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy despite the alcohol running through your veins, and the heat pooling between your legs.

“Because we thought it would make you easier to control.” The Cardinal whispered, dropping his face close to yours. “We didn’t know how to bend you to our will using your halo, so we wanted to drag you to Hell with us. How old are you, Angel?”

“Older than matter.”

“And you’ve been so deprived for so long? Sweet angel, no wonder you’re the way that you are.” His face was now mere centimetres from yours, you could feel his breath fanning above your top lip as he spoke. “You’ve already committed the worst sin imaginable for an angel, haven’t you? Questioning him and being shunned for it.” He put his gloved hands on yours and pulled you off the chair, raising your left one to his lips. “One more sin couldn’t hurt, could it?”

His lips trailed up your arm and ended their journey at the crook of your neck, where he licked and kissed at the sensitive skin. The heat between your legs became unbearable, as your fingertips clutched onto his arms. Your body was fighting against itself, your arms pushing him away, but fingers pulling him towards you. You sighed at the newfound sensitivity, now realising how incredible it felt to have someone there, lavishing you with gentle touches and sin.

This was a sin. You should fight against it, and fight harder.

“It is God’s will that I should be sanctified,” you muttered, breathlessly, recalling the words of the Almighty that you’d remembered, “that I should avoid immorality; that I should learn to control mine own body in a way that is holy and honorable, not in passionate lust like the pagans, who do not know God.”

You felt Copia smile into your neck, his ministrations stopping temporarily. “Matthew 26:41: ‘Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.’” You felt the Cardinal’s hands move to your waist and pull you flush against his hard body, something particularly hard poking out from beneath his cassock and hitting against your hip. “All flesh is weak, Angel. Even yours. Can you do it, I wonder? Can you resist me despite your body calling for me?”

You lifted your hand to his hair and tugged it, pulling his head away from you. You looked into his eyes, dark and lustful as they bore into your soul, reading you like an open book so willing to be read. Your mind was screaming at you, yelling at you to push him away. But your hands, of their own free will, grasped onto his neck and pulled him towards you, your lips crashing onto his with such force, it almost hurt.

His tongue entered your mouth desperately, leading the kiss despite you initiating it. It was your first, and it had taken your breath away whilst heightening all your other senses. You could feel the way his moustache tickled your upper lip, the ferociousness of his tongue sliding against yours as he gave himself over to the pleasure with no resistence. His gloved hands tightened on your waist, and pushed you against the table, forcing you to sit on top of it and spread your legs, inviting him between them.

That tongue tasted like your blood, and you should feel repulsed by the monster who took what he wanted from your body, now in more ways than one. But the iron tang of your blood on him excited and thrilled you in a way it shouldn’t - in a way that would have you cast into the Abyss with no one looking back.

Your nipples hardened beneath your white robe, and wetness seeped out from between your thighs. Your heart was rushing a million miles per minute, and your lungs could barely keep up. And all the while, the Cardinal’s hands roamed over your body, travelling, gripping, groping, and pulling at your flesh.

He could feel your nipples poking through your robes, the way your hips unknowingly bucked against his hardness, begging for him to ravage you right there. Whimpers had begun to fall from your lips as you lost yourself into the warmth of his body, allowing his own to swallow them and feed him, fuel his desires to have you.

You moaned deliciously when his gloved hand rested on your thigh, pulling the white fabric up to expose your skin, and you truly sounded heavenly when the same thumb that had been in your mouth weeks before, and traced over your lips today, made contact with a sensitive bundle of nerves and you gasped, breaking the kiss and looking into his lustful eyes.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked, his voice gravelly and quiet. You shook your head and it earned a chuckle. “So innocent.” His voice was gentle, filled with a condescension that made your stomach flip. “So neglected. Given a body and not shown how to use it. This is called a clitoris.” He kissed you again and put more pressure on your clit, making you moan a little louder. “When I play with it, I can make you sing. I can make you reach a place more divine than Heaven. Does it feel good, Angel?”

“Yes!” You hissed, your eyebrows furrowing upwards and your mouth falling open. Your nostrils flared as your body tried to take in as much oxygen as it could, especially when the Cardinal picked up the pace and continued to rub circles into your flesh.

“You never touched yourself, have you?” He asked. He knew the answer, so he didn’t expect you to respond. “You should. The beauty of this form is that you can give yourself pleasure whenever you want.” He nibbled at your jaw. “However you want.” Your body tensed. “Virgins are so easy to please. So quick to cum.”

Your toes curled, your back arched, your voice screamed out as your nails dug into the thick fabric of his clothes. His fingers kept working the surface, never dipping inside or changing their speed.

“Can you feel it, Angel?” He asked, licking over your top lip. “The pressure building inside you? Feeling like you’re about to burst open?”

“Y-yes!” Your moans were wanton now, unabashed. You didn’t even think to be quiet, this felt too good to think of anything else.

“When you’re ready, let it happen. Let yourself feel it. Let yourself explode.”

“It’s too m-much!” You cried out, hips bucking of their own accord into the Cardinal’s hand.

“Aw,” he feigned sympathy, “I know, baby. Your first orgasm. Don’t look away from me. Look into my eyes when it happens, okay?”

“Okay-ah!”

It didn’t take much more until your whole body spasmed. You didn’t know what the sensation was, and there was a little fear in your eyes as it first began to take hold of you, freezing your body down to your breath and holding you there. The sensitivity on your clit spread everywhere, to your toes, up to your brain. You could practically taste it on your tongue. All the while, you continued to look into your tormentor’s eyes, mouth agape and lungs fighting for air that left your body long ago.

The Cardinal stared at you the whole time, eyes pinned on your face and studying your reaction to your first orgasm, taking untold pleasures from it.

“How was that?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“G-good.” You replied, breathlessly, eyes closing over.

The Cardinal laughed, something small and new. “Don’t rest on me, yet.” You watched him fumble at his crotch and pull himself out from between the buttons of his cassock, but you didn’t get the chance to see… him.

You felt him rub against your folds, the tip stroking against your clit as he rocked back and forth. Both of you hissed at the contact, for you because of your sensitivity, and for him because he was finally getting some pleasure. He was thick, and heavy, and slid against your folds so well you had to grip onto the desk just because your hands needed something to hold.

Every now and then, you could feel the tip at your entrance where he’d pulled back a little too far, and the first time he did it your eyes shot open in panic. “Not in - ah! - not inside! Please! He’ll s-see.”

The Cardinal groaned, pushing forward involuntarily and sighing at the feeling of your wetness coating him. “I won’t.” He reassured you. “I want to, though.”

“You can’t!”

“I know. You th-think he’s watching, Angel?” The Cardinal chuckled as he picked up the pace. “You think your god is watching one of his angels get - fuck! - ruined by a son of Satan?”

You felt your hole clench around nothing. You shouldn’t - but you did.

“Good,” the Cardinal continued, holding onto your hips to help him use you, “let him see. I want him to see what happens when he neglects his creations. When his creations discover themselves. Fuck, you’re so wet!”

Your back arched further, pressing your hips against him more firmly. You leaned back, allowing your shoulders to hit the wall behind you and rest against the brick, as much as your tied wings would allow anyway. He watched your body jiggling as he rubbed against it, wondering how much more you’d do so when he was thrusting in and out of your virgin hole. He thought about how tight you’d be. He knew a virgin being tight was nothing more than misogynistic propaganda, but he couldn’t help but think about it. He watched your tits bounce with each thrust, and stared at the way your nipples continued to poke through the fabric, begging to be teased and bitten.

“Pinch your nipples.” He ordered.

You moved your hands up to where he wanted them and began to rub over the peaks, pinching them between your thumbs and forefingers and moaning loudly at the sensation - feeling your hole clench around nothing again. Everything he was doing to you, everything he got you to do to yourself, felt exquisite. You understood, now, why you’d watch entire civilisations descend into madness and violence just to feel the warmth of another body in the victorious afterglow. You understood why this would be a celebratory act because you felt nothing but pleasure - a high you’d never experienced before, not even up in Heaven serving the almighty.

The thought should scare you. The fact that you were turning to sin, and had done so so easily should have terrified you beyond belief. But you pinched your nipples harder, crying out as the Cardinal’s cock grazed over your clit for the millionth time, about to reach your second orgasm of the night.

The second one was just as powerful as the first, so earth-shatteringly good your toes curled again and you bit your lip so hard, you could taste your own blood. Your whole body tingled under your touch and his, barely registering his groan before you felt something wet on your pubic mound and dripping down your labia onto the table below you. You sat up and looked, finally seeing him in his entirety. The Cardinal had orgasmed, too, except his was much messier. Your body and his was covered in the whiteness that had spewed from him, and while you didn’t know the name, you knew that it was needed to bring life into the world.

The Cardinal was red-faced and panting from the exertion, as were you. Both of you spent and clear headed.

Clear headed.

Your mind began racing, thinking about what you’d just done. When the passion faded, a flood of contradictory thoughts and emotions swept over you along with a wave of clarity. You noticed the Cardinal’s laboured breathing and his conflicted expression of vulnerability and satisfaction. You realised that what you had just shared was more than just physical pleasure; it was an intimate moment between two creatures who had previously been bound by circumstance and desire.

But as the reality of the situation settled in, so did the weight of guilt and uncertainty. You couldn’t ignore the implications of what had transpired in the wine cellar. Despite the intense connection you had felt in the heat of the moment, you knew deep down that this was not how things were meant to be. You were an angel, a child of the Almighty and a being of righteousness, and he was a vampyre—a man of the cloth, sworn to uphold the debauchery of his Satan’s might.

As soon as the Cardinal’s eyes met yours, you could see the same turmoil in them. He was obviously thinking about the consequences of what you had done. Now that the lines between you had been crossed, you had to deal with the fallout.

When you looked at the potential repercussions of your sin, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret. How would this affect your relationship with him, which was already tense? What about the Sister, who would be furious after learning everything the Cardinal had revealed to you?

What about your God? How disappointed He’d be if He saw you now, nothing more than a whore for the Devil? Giving yourself so willingly to him despite all of the Almighty’s teachings… letting Lucifer into your heart when you should have cast him out.

But in the middle of all of this chaos, there was also a moment of brief relief from the bonds that had held you captive for so long. For a split second, you had given in to lust and accepted the forbidden fruit of passion.

The Cardinal grabbed a serviette from one of the shelves and cleaned you both up, before straightening himself out again. He watched you, saw your demeanour shift back to the wariness you used to have when he first let you out of the cage. You couldn’t ascertain his thoughts, but he knew you were absolutely regretting what had just transpired between you.

One thing became obvious as you sat there, trying to make sense of the tangled mess of emotions whirling inside of you: the relationship between you and the Cardinal would never be the same. The friendship that had been formed in the wine cellar had changed your lives forever, for better or worse. You had no choice but to wait and see where fate would lead you as you faced the uncertain future that lay ahead.

That morning, as you both made your way into his chamber and he’d removed the restraints from your wings, you willingly crawled into your cage, curled up, and hid yourself from his view. You didn’t get much sleep that day.

Prev./Next

He's probably doing it for copia's own good tho. That man likely to crash the walls of Ministry and hurt himself

Nihil when copia does something annoying

🜏⛧ 𝙋𝙖𝙥𝙖 𝙀𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙪𝙨 - 𝙄 - 𝙄𝙄 - 𝙄𝙄𝙄 - 𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝘾𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙖 - 𝙄𝙑 🜏⛧

All sources

Papa Emeritus I

Ghost (2of2) live @ Fortarock Nijmegen 2011-07-02 Ghost B.C.

Ghost - 6/10/2012 Download Festival - Castle Donington, England

Ghost-Live At HellFest 2011-Intro/Con Clavi Con Dio/Elizabeth

Ghost - "Ritual" live 2010 at Hammer of Doom IV

Ghost - Ritual clip

Ghost - Prime Mover/Genesis/Ritual || live @ Roadburn / Midi Theatre || 14-4-2011 (3/3)

Papa Emeritus II

Ghost B.C. - Secular Haze

Ghost B.C. - Year Zero (Censored)

Ghost B.C. - The Olde One - Papaganda Ep. 1

Ghost - Secular Haze - HD

Ghost B.C. - What Happens in Vegas... - Papaganda Ep. 2

GHOST - Monstrance Clock (Live at Main Square Festival 2014)

Papa Emeritus III

Ghost - Square Hammer (Official Music Video)

Ghost - Jigolo Har Megiddo (Live Acoustic) | HardDrive Online

Ghost - He Is (Music Video)

Ghost: The 2016 GRAMMY red carpet | Billboard

is papa emeritus iii okay? (No, not at all)

Ghost BC - Cirice (2016 Grammy Winning Song)

Cardinal Copia

Ghost - Rats (Official Music Video)

Ghost - Full Show!!! - Live HD (F.M. Kirby Center 2018)

Ghost - Chapter Six: The Visit

The Tunnel — Ghost - Dance Macabre (live)

4K - Ghost - Live at the Fillmore - Jackie Gleason Theater - Miami Beach, FL 11/24/2018

Ghost - Full Show!!! - Live HD (F.M. Kirby Center 2018)

Papa Emeritus IV

Ghost - Hellfest 2022 Headline Announcement

Ghost (Papa Emeritus IV) & The Hellacopters - Sympathy for The Devil "Live 2021" (På spåret)

Ghost - Watcher in the Sky - Live HD (CURE Insurance Arena 2022)

Ghost - Spillways (Official Music Video)

Ghost – Call Me Little Sunshine

Ghost - Mary On A Cross (Live In Tampa 2022)

GRATUITOUSLY DETAILED DISLIKES

muse name.   john constantine.

least favorite nickname. call him any variation of 'johnny' or 'johnny boy' when he already doesn't like you and he's spitting in your eye. he's learned to own 'gutter mage', but if you're rich and you're saying it to denigrate, you're now on a list.

least favorite season. winter. he's not a fan of christmas, and since his sister died he doesn't really have anywhere to go for the holidays, so that whole block of time is just an ugly mess of don't-think-about-it for him.

least favorite  —  hot or cold? hot. he layers his clothing, and there's only so many layers you can take off when it's hot out before you're simply stuck with the unbearable. also, connotations re: hell that have left a sense-memory so deep he's never climbing out of it.

least favorite holiday. halloween. uninformed pissants playing with fire around every corner, and every year it seems like he's the only fireman in town.

least favorite food.   deep-fried anything that's not a pastry. he's not a fan of all the grease and the oil.

least favorite flavor.   artificial grape flavoring. it's just slimier cough medicine to him.

least favorite drink. american sprite, and clamato.

least favorite scent.  blood, rotting meat, hospital smell, and death. really helpful in his line of work, where all are constant.

least favorite sound. the buzzing of an electronically-locked door being opened makes him feel aggressively unsafe. also, someone talking out their ass about shite they don't understand.

least favorite tv shows. any kind of kardashian, flaunting-our-wealth reality show, and bloody doctor phil. the levels of out-of-touch and quackery drive him up the wall.

least favorite area of school. recess. he was pretty good academically and liked to learn, it was the bullies who were the problem.

least favorite aspect of their job. the tough calls that he has to make on his own and stand by afterwards. he doesn't sacrifice friends and betray people's trust because it's easy, he does it because he has to. he keeps doing it because he's the only one who will.

least favorite trait in others.    three-way tie between blustering cowardice, carelessness towards other people's lives/wellbeing, and sick enjoyment in kicking people when they're down who don't deserve it. he'll go far out of his way to teach some selfish wanker a lesson in a little fucking empathy.

least favorite place.   hospitals. bad enough to be stuck where he can't smoke, but every doctor he meets wants to experiment with his damn demon blood, too.

least favorite thing to talk about. the events with rosacarnis. he lost his memories, the mental equivalent of forty years, his bodily autonomy, and his sister in one fell swoop. there will never be a way to package all that up into one neat conversation, and the pity it incurs makes him sick.

least favorite thing about themselves. he can't turn off the hellblazer. his reputation is what keeps him alive, and maintaining that reputation is a full-time job. even if he settles for a few years, keeps his head down, leads a quiet life, someone or something will find him, or he'll find someone or something. there's no life of magic without hurting people, and there's no life without magic anymore. he's trapped himself by trying to survive.

least favorite daily chore.   taking out the trash. he's forgetful and he's squeamish, which tends to leave him with a rank mess that takes forever to remove between bouts of gagging.

least favorite type of clothing. polyester, or anything overly restrictive.

least favorite superpower. mind-reading, truth-compelling, or hyper-empathy. his lies are his armor; the more people peel back the layers, the more they see all he's gone through in life and how truly vulnerable he is at heart, and the last thing he wants is to be treated like a victim. he'll fight tooth and nail against anyone trying to strip those defenses from him, and he'll fight dirty.

least favorite thing about falling in love. knowing it'll end ugly and it'll be his fault, but not being able to stop either the falling in love or the ending.

least favorite thing about death. the pain. he's never been good with pain.

𖤐 Encyclopedia of Terzo 𖤐

I've been thinking a lot about how the personality of Papa III was created. Tobias set the basic framework, the archetype, the cliché from which he drew. But the real implementation of Papa was on stage, where his image developed through improvisation. Some things were conceived on purpose, some were invented on the spot, some came out unplanned, due to circumstances. Papa turned out to be as lively and unpredictable as life itself. In many senses, he lived on stage.

Thanks to the research of concerned fans, there is quite a lot of material. It occurred to me to collect them in one post for those who want to get acquainted with the canonical image of Terzo. This catalogue uses materials from two users, Cityofmeliora's and myself. You can use them for fanfiction or just for your own amusement. So, allow me to introduce Papa Emeritus III!

Cityofmeliora: Transcriptions and facts

Radley @cityofmeliora has an academic degree in Terzo Studies. He did a great job watching probably 100% of the Terzo videos and bringing us some interesting insights about his personality from the Terzo mines.

▸ notes / thoughts on Terzo's characterization (Terzo is so disappointed and depressed and i love him)

▸ Terzo's mom was mentioned twice

▸ quotes on Secondo and Terzo's age gap / the Emeritus brothers having different mothers

▸ TF on the archetype of Papa

▸ about Terzo's height...

▸ Terzo's sweet tooth 🍰🍫

▸ Secondo lied about being able to speak Swedish, and Terzo lied about *not* being able to speak Swedish

▸ according to the Nameless Ghouls, Terzo is better than Secondo because he has hair and is "less smelly" 😂😂

▸ TF breaks character a little too much and accidentally makes it canon that Terzo has a child 💀👶

▸ Who is Mysterious Spectre?

▸ transcript: Terzo's first concert - Linköping, Sweden (June 3, 2015)

▸ transcript: Sweden Rock Festival (June 4, 2015)

▸ Terzo lying about his knowledge of Swedish AGAIN!

▸ Terzo talking about his mom <3

▸ Papa Nihil taught his sons to sing

▸ Terzo hates it when people are bad at clapping 👏👏👏

▸ Terzo knows he's always yapping <3

▸ Terzo is hard of hearing 🦻

▸ Terzo did WHAT in Poland? 😳

▸ Terzo totally not bragging about his Grammy 🙄

▸ Terzo + children 🥰

▸ Terzo had eye infections???

▸ "And it is very important that you respect the fact that there are kids and there are"

▸ Terzo thinks 'Cirice' is a sad song

▸ Terzo getting angry

▸ Terzo's fucked up sore throat voice 🤒

▸ Terzo mentioning Secondo 😎

▸ Terzo mentions his parents 🧑‍🤝‍🧑

▸ Terzo + family 👪

▸ Terzo + being old 👴

▸ Terzo saying quesadillas are his favorite food 🧀

▸ Terzo is NOT a fluent / native Italian speaker 🤭🇮🇹

▸ Terzo + musical instruments 🎹🎸🥁🎺

🆕 Terzo hates it when people pronounce "Meliora" incorrectly ☝️🤓

🆕 What does terzology know about the overthrow of Papa III?

🆕 sad, sad Terzo + 'If You Have Ghosts' 🌙

Blackbird: Observations and analysis

My modest contribution to terzology was an attempt to summarise observations and look inside the head of the mysterious Papa III.

▸ Part 1: Terzo's responsible attitude to work

▸ Part 2: The jokes about height

▸ Part 3: The relationship between Terzo and Secondo

▸ Part 4: The ideas behind the birds and the bees speech

▸ Part 5: Terzo's other beliefs that he broadcast

▸ Part 6: Terzo and his loneliness

🆕 Part 7: Terzo is referring to Cartesian philosophy?

That’s it! Where’s my John Constantine Pride comic and cover!? I don’t give a shit that it’s pandering or if it’s just shitty capitalism. I want that piece of shit Brit drawn in the sluttiest little outfit surrounded by bisexual flags with Zatanna on his left and DC Lucifer on his right! I want it to be the dirtiest shit imaginable! Enough to make those conservative bigots lose their minds and claim that it’s devil worship! WHERE IS IT!? >:(