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sister-juniper · 6 months

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Reciprocated Feelings (Terzo x GN Reader)

⋆˙⟡ Fluff with some sexual references ✮⋆˙

Summary: You and Terzo are friends with benefits, but you had developed romantic feelings. Unbeknownst to you, Terzo feels the same.

☆ Word Count: 1446 ☆

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You and Papa Terzo had been fooling around for quite some time, a few months to be exact.

It all began during one of his sermons, you were sitting in the front row, right in Terzo's line of sight. He noticed you gazing lustfully at him. You see, Terzo had a knack for being able to read people, especially through their eyes. He could tell the intention behind that look you gave him by simply studying your eyes for a few seconds.

In return, he shot you the same stare, which caught you off guard. The entire rest of that sermon was spent with you getting more and more desperate, while you and Terzo practically eye-fucked each other.

An hour after all of that began, the sermon ended, and the entirety of the congregation filed out of the main hall and into the dining hall. You however, chose to stick around a few extra minutes. This proved to be a great decision, as Terzo did the exact same. As soon as the two of you were given some space, he was able to whisk you away to the privacy of his quarters. That was the first time of many when you two did anything.

From the start, your relationship had been strictly sexual and platonic. No romance or exclusivity involved. One would message the other when in need of some sexual favors, and the other would show up at the other's room a few minutes later. You two would do it, and then part ways once again.

Of course, Terzo had others, he was Papa Emeritus of course. You were not the only one he lusted after, and you knew this. You played along with his act, you acted okay with it, and you hid how you felt internally. You would rather have him like this than not have him at all.

You tried to give the impression to him that you had others as well. You didn't want to look too "needy". In reality, nobody else really interested you in that manner like Terzo did. The only person who you wanted to touch you was him. You didn't care to invite any other siblings or ghouls into your bed. Your body would only enjoy the touch of Terzo.

He knew how to please you, he could play your body like a game of chess, but most importantly, he was the one you fancied. He was your type.

Each time the two of you finished doing it, after you parted ways, you wondered what it would be like if he stayed just a bit longer. If he stayed to coax you to sleep, run his fingers through your hair, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear. You began to crave that, but still, that never happened.

At first, you brushed your feelings to the side. You ignored your heart gnawing at you. After all, there wasn't much you could do or say. You felt like Terzo was the one calling the shots, and you were just another sibling of sin.

But after a few months of this, it was getting too intense. Every single time the two of you did things, you held back so hard from letting an "I love you" slip out of your mouth. Every single time, you could barely save yourself from asking "could you stay a little while longer?" as Terzo was putting his shoes on to leave.

You began to realize what you felt would eventually slip out. It got harder and harder to hide it each time. It was only a matter of time before the confession left your lips.

You decided to put together a plan, a plan to ask him out on a date. You decided you would rather risk losing the sexual encounters, instead of just continuing on like this. You couldn't do it anymore.

Your plan was fairly simple, but also quite cute. You would go to a flower shop, buy a bouquet of purple lilac flowers, and show up at his office to ask. You knew Terzo would love those flowers, as he usually kept a vase of them on his desk. You were only about 50% sure of this actually working in your favor, but you chose to go along with it anyways.

The next morning, you went to your usual services, did your daily chores, and then when you finally had a few hours of free time, you took the bus down to the flower shop.

Something that you thought was odd however, was Terzo's absence during the daily sermon. Instead, it was his younger brother, Cardinal Copia, who took over. It made you a bit anxious, but you chose to shrug it off as him just being busy with something.

You bought the flowers, and got back on the bus with a sense of hopefulness. Maybe this would work out, you prayed to Satan that it would. Still, you had to be realistic, and were also mentally preparing yourself for the worst to happen.

You arrived back at the Ministry, and rushed upstairs to your room to do a few things first. You had to be quick, as dinner time is soon, and Terzo would not be in his office during that time. You made it to your room, applied a bit of makeup, sprayed on some of your best perfume, fixed your habit a little bit, and then you were ready to go.

You took a deep breath, clutched the flowers in your hands, and started walking down the corridor to Terzo's office. Quickly, of course.

You had turned the final corner to his office, when you suddenly collided with something. You panicked and reached down to pick up the flowers, before looking up and realizing who you just bumped into. It was Terzo.

He too was picking up a bouquet of flowers off of the floor, black dahlias, and looked a little flustered.

"O-oh hi Terzo. Im so sorry I wasn't looking where I was going"

You stared at him, wide-eyed, feeling the blush began to creep onto your cheeks. This is not how you wanted this to go, and why did he have flowers too?

"Ah tesoro, it is okay. Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Terzo said, seemingly equally as flustered.

"Oh uh..." you searched your brain for some sort of excuse, any kind of excuse, but you couldn't think of any. What other excuse would there be to you rushing in the direction of his office holding his favorite flowers? "I was coming to see you."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you waited for him to respond. He looked at you, then the flowers, then back at you again.

"Coming to see me? With that beautiful bouquet?"

You nodded and looked away with embarrassment.

"Well uh, actually tesoro, I was headed to do the same."

You looked back up at him and studied his face. He had a small smile, and you could see a little blush under his paints, and wait a minute... he was holding black dahlias. Your favorite flowers.

"W-wait... you were coming to give me those?" You questioned as you pointed to the bouquet.

He nodded "Sí, and you were coming to give me those?" he questioned while pointing to the flowers you held.

You nodded. "I actually got these for a reason you know..." you said as you trailed off

"What reason is that, cara mia?"

"I wanted to ask you on a date."

Terzo smiled warmly and stepped a little closer. "I was coming to do the exact same thing."

You looked at him in bewilderment. "You were??"

"Sí, that is why I wasn't at the sermon this morning. I was out buying these" He said in reference to the flowers

You smiled a wide smile as he handed you the beautiful arrangement of flowers. You took it from him, and handed him the purple lilac's in return.

"How did you know black dahlia's are my favorite?"

"I took a guess, I saw them in your room. How did you know I like purple lilacs?"

"I also saw them in your room" You said with a giggle

"Ah well, we are both quite observant aren't we?"

You nodded with a smile and a small "mhm"

"Well... what do you say to that date tesoro? You free this Friday night?"

You perked up and nodded enthusiastically "Yes, I am free"

"Perfetta. I will pick you up from your room at 6 p.m."

"I will be ready"

Terzo smiles at you "I can't wait"

The two of you share a kiss and part ways. As soon as you get back to your room, you place the gorgeous bouquet in a vase full of water. Terzo does the same in his office. You can't believe that just happened, but you are overjoyed to say the least.

He feels the same as you do.

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kissingghouls · 15 days

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'leave me behind' and Terzo if I may ☺️ you can chose if you want to break my heart or just let him be the drama queen we know and love 💜

Oh my goodness Cake this took so long! I am so sorry 😭

Here's 1k words of Drama Queen Retired Terzo Fluff 💜 (Terzo x Reader [gender neutral reader, but there is a mention of wearing a dress], established relationship, relatively SFW but suggestive, MDNI, not beta read)

Terzo Emeritus is a magnificent bastard. Magnificent and beautiful. The warm light of the morning shines on your lover’s bare face—a luxury very few are allowed to see even now in his retirement. Trouble is, he’s as charming as he is handsome. The Third has completely stolen your heart and—if you were inclined to search through his room—probably some of your clothes as well.

The suite is just as dreamy and over-the-top as he is, all luxe velvet and silk in the deepest violet built to house royalty. An opalescent gleam dances over every surface thanks to the large stained glass window on the far wall. Touches of gold and marble from the fireplace to the valet where his suit waits for him seem to sparkle at this hour. Even the bed feels softer than the night before—as if Papa Emeritus III would sleep on anything less than a cloud.

It's hard to leave this place. As much as you’d love to dramatically drape yourself over every opulent piece of furniture in the room and pose like a Victorian woman waiting for a letter, there were things to do. You were happy Terzo was enjoying retired life—even more so that he was spending his leisure time with you—but he’s been pretending to be asleep for a half-hour and you really need to get out of this bed.

You’ve tried wiggling, huffing, and physically trying to pry his fingers away from you, but Terzo will not let go. Normally you think it’s sweet the way he clings to you, but he knows you have important meetings to attend. And he knows exactly how it will look if you are late.

“Terzo, please,” you finally try, your voice hitting a pitched whine you hadn’t intended. You hope it helps to make your point.

“Amore,” he whines back. His eyes are still shut tight, but he’s fighting that sweet Terzo smile you usually enjoy.

“You have to let me go, Terzo.”

He groans in response, tightening his grip on you. “I will never.”

“Terzo, darling, I need to get dressed. You know how they get if I’m late for a meeting.”

He sighs heavily and slowly releases his hold. Before he can change his mind, you slip from the bed and gather your clothes for the day. He watches you dress, eyes following the line of your body as you move through the room. He knows every part of you now, loves every part of you. There isn’t a dip or curve he hasn’t traced with his fingers or his tongue. He’s committed each freckle and scar to memory, knows them better than all those songs he used to sing. Songs he’d still sing at your request, but only for you.

Maybe he is a selfish man, but he can’t help but want you to stay in his arms. If not forever, then at least ten—no—sixty more minutes.

“Go on then,” he laments, dramatically throwing his arm over his eyes. “Leave me behind.”

The mattress dips under the weight of your knee as you sigh and climb back onto his ridiculous bed. You straddle his waist, leaning forward to press a kiss against his chest—that perfect pretty space right over his heart. “Terzo?” Your voice is soft, but you know he can hear you. You repeat his name, but he doesn’t respond, doesn’t move at all. “Terzo, look at me.”

“I can’t,” he pouts, his bottom lip jutting out a little more as he keeps his arm in place.

“Why not?”

“You’re too beautiful. Like staring into the sun,” he admits with a sigh. “And if I look at you now, you will never make it to that meeting. What kind of man would I be then? Contributing to your delinquency?”

You bite your lip and pry his arm away from his face, pinning it to the mattress instead. “I think you would be the same man you were last night—the same man who spent the entire evening with a hand up my dress.”

“Well, that’s not my fault, amore. You have bewitched me, temptress. I’m nothing more than a possessed man.”

“I wasn’t complaining.”

“Oh?” He asks, his left eyebrow quirked up. “Perhaps you could tell me what you meant, so I can understand.”

“I like you. I like being with you. I like being around you. I would rather stay here with you and let you worship me than sit in that stuffy conference room for even one second.”

“Sì, sì. I like where this is going,” he teases, raising his hips under you.

“But—” You pause to pin his other arm to the bed, holding him firmly. “If I miss this meeting, you better make it worth it—”

“Oh, amore, I—”

“And you are coming up with a much better excuse this time.”

He frowns. “And what was so bad about the last one?”

“Telling you brother I ‘choked on something’ isn’t exactly subtle.”

“Copia? He wouldn’t know an innuendo from his own fist.”

“You know the Siblings call him ‘Fuck Machine’ right?”

“They what—”

“It doesn’t matter, but you should be very proud.”

“Ah, sì, good for him I suppose…Why do you know they call him that?”

“Shush darling, it’s just girl talk.”

“Wait, what do they call me?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m going to work.”

His body shifts and twists until his hands are free. He grabs your waist, easily pushing you onto your back before he climbs over you. He softly traces his lips over your jaw as he speaks. “You said you’d stay.”

“I said if I stay. And that you better have a good excuse.”

“Hmm,” he hums, drawing a hand between your legs. “I don’t know, amore. I think it feels like you might be getting a fever.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm, Hell Flu is deathly contagious too. We should quarantine for at least a week I think.”

“A week, huh?”

“At least. You may need even longer to recover. I’m afraid you are very, very ill. I’ll call Copia and let him know you aren’t feeling well. You go ahead and get undressed, amore. Let me take care of you,” he says with a wink and hops up to call in sick for you.

#my writing #prompt request #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #reader insert #the band ghost fanfiction #terzo fanfiction #papa emeritus iii fanfic #x reader

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fishwithtitz · 7 months

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Was It Worth It? (Cardinal Terzo x Reader)

Summary: Worth (n.) - the value equivalent to that of someone or something under consideration; the level at which someone or something deserves to be valued or rated.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Cardinal Terzo x AFAB reader / 6.2k words

Warnings: language, graphic description of piv sex, religious trauma, alcohol, poorly translated Italian, angst

aO3 link

Part One: What Goes Up...

Sometimes, when the sun was low in the sky like this, and you could still feel the occasional pitter of droplets dispersing against your skin, you took the risk of abandoning your responsibilities and popping outside for the evening. It was peculiar how the salmon rays of the sun peeked through heavy, sodden clouds. The beams heated the water in the air and made it sticky and heavy. “Hot rain” your Granddad had called it. It reminded you of simplicity. Of home.

You stepped right outside the cloister on the farthest corner of the abbey to soak the weighted air and shafts of light inward as self-anointing. The grass was springy under your feet, verdant, and you lost track of your steps as you meandered out into the less-manicured side of the grounds towards the wooded border of the property’s boundaries.

It had been two years since you decided to join the order. Your family, long gone at the prospect of you choosing a life of sin and vulgarity, and your friends feigning happiness that slowly dripped away as time wore on and contact faded into simple memories. You didn’t mind it. If being a part of the ministry had taught you anything, it was that change was normal - healthy, even - and that embracing and adapting was necessary to find self-fulfillment and true absolution.

The first year as a Sister of Sin proved a heady challenge. With scripture and philosophy to study, on top of a laundry list of new procedures and rituals and ways of living to memorize, you had your hands full. There were some nights where sleep was truly a blessing from below and you started to understand the pull of addiction as you filled your coffee for what seemed like the umpteenth time at breakfast before starting your shift washing the ministry’s linens.

Uncertainty and impulsivity had inspired you to join. Desperation had encouraged you to stay. Like a mid-life crisis happening 20 years too soon, you clung to any open window to find purpose and opportunity. You longed for a defined path outlined in thick black marker on a map with an ‘x marks the spot’.

It wasn’t until a year and a half into your tenure as a Sister of Sin, fresh out of novitiate, that you met a young Cardinal Terzo (as he liked to be called) and your outlook on this new life began to shift. You couldn’t exactly point to why he had chosen you out of all the other sisters. You didn’t feel as though you were the most attractive, or the most seductive, or the most educated or intelligent. You didn’t feel secure in any specific talents and you didn’t feel a drive to accomplish anything specific. If anything, your energy was spent on yearning for direction.

Perhaps he had noticed your propensity to velcro into anything novel or interesting. Or maybe it was your enthrallment and willingness to engage. Whatever the reason, Terzo had chosen you to devote his time to.

You had been assigned to his detail as a temporary member of his small team of siblings. Though your past experience noted a range of clerical skills and literary study, you had instead been chosen to keep his chambers. It had taken all but a few days to learn Cardinal Terzo’s particulars. His sheets, which were a stereotypical black satin, had to be positioned just right (heaven forbid the fitted sheet have a loose corner…one would think that Papa himself had been murdered). Because of their color and Terzo’s…life choices, both the top sheet and the fitted sheet had to be changed nearly daily to save them from resembling Pollock’s “Lavender Mist”. His clothing had to be organized by occasion and style (and as you quickly found out, by random personal preference that seemed to change on a whim). Terzo required his wine fridges (plural) to be stocked twice weekly (including the large collection of reds that rested atop each fridge at room temperature), and it wasn’t uncommon to fulfill last minute requests for antipasto, fruit, candles, or other carnal delicacies to be brought to his room for later that evening.

Completing tasks was a nightmare. You never knew if your assigned shift would lead you into an empty (and disarrayed) room with Terzo having been up and out early in the morning, or an occupied suite that stayed inhabited up into the early afternoon. The latter still caught you off-guard and you made frequent mental notes to work on your stuttered apologies as you awkwardly left his bedroom to wait until it was empty to resume your duties.

However, one day that seemed all but special, you entered his bedroom to change his linens and refresh his wardrobe, only to find Cardinal Terzo hunched over the mantel in front of the fireplace. His head hung low, browbeaten, and a rocks glass of scotch was perched between heavy fingers while his fist was clasped to his right. If you listened closely enough, you swore you could hear his aggravated breathing laced with tears. You froze at the sight.

“I’m sorry, Cardinal. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you eventually peeped out, trying your best to keep your tone even as to not portray any perceived judgment.

Terzo hadn’t turned to face you, but was quick in his reply — his voice gravely and gruff. “It’s best if you go, Sorella,” he responded, gripping even tighter onto the glass. The air felt thick and you could feel your own sweat (whether from the heat of the fire or the anxiety of catching Terzo at an inopportune moment, you weren’t sure) pooling on your forehead.

Despite his request, you stayed stationary.

You couldn’t help but look over the way his hair hung down to frame his painted eyes, tracks of tears threatening to wash away the intricate circular design and painted bow, and how his lips pursed in the firelight. Do you dare overstep your professional boundaries to show a touch of common humanity? To show that despite his role as a prominent Cardinal in the church, he was still a human being that deserved empathy and kindness? It was then that you decided to be bold. You took a deep breath.

“Do you need a hug?”

Your words seemed to catch Terzo off guard, and he suddenly raised his head and craned his neck to look at you, eyebrows furrowed. You gently set down the basket of clean laundry and took a step towards him, wringing your hands in apprehension as you approached him.

Upon seeing you, soft-faced and vulnerable in the dim light, his own expression dampened and he turned his body to face yours. “I think I would like that, Sorella,” he replied.

It was from the moment that your small frame enveloped him, your head tucking in against his chest while your hands moved comfortingly against the smooth fabric of his jacket that hugged against his back, that you felt your heart beam against his. And maybe, you reasoned, you weren’t crazy in thinking that you felt his beam back against your own.

Over the next week or so, your daily visits to his chambers began to change. You could almost bet on him being present for your visits now, and while it had made you nervous before, you had begun to look forward to seeing him lounging about in his chambers, coffee in hand as he greeted you with a warm, “Good Morning, Sorella.” Dinner in the refectory had been previously uneventful, but now was punctuated by stolen glances from (and to) the head table, with Terzo occasionally lifting his ever-present glass of red in your direction — a subtle, yet definite nod to your existence. You couldn’t help but internally swoon.

The second week after your fireside interaction, after replacing the linens, replenishing the firewood, and restocking a few choice wines in Terzo’s chambers, you were met with a personal request from the Cardinal.

Like many nights during weeks prior, Terzo had left his room with a special request for the evening. “A sensuous feast” he had called it, and having fulfilled his wishes before, you knew exactly the way it was to be done.

Ignoring your disappointment (and the pang in your chest when you read the note), you worked with the kitchen ghouls to create a charcuterie board to remember, rife with various fruits, cheeses, nuts, and the homemade rosemary focaccia you knew he enjoyed at dinner. A bottle of prosecco sat on ice in a marble wine chiller on the low mahogany coffee table (and you made sure to stock a couple extra in the nearby wine fridge for good measure), and two glasses were perfectly polished beside it, waiting for eventual effervescence. A low fire was kindled and warmed the plush rug that lay in front of it as it waited for its future occupants.

Swallowing the sharp spasms that assaulted your chest, you gave the room a small, unreturned smile and surveyed your work.

“Beautiful job, Dolcezza.” Terzo’s silken voice frightened you as it broke the quietude in the room. You let out a breath, a chuckle laced between it and your words, and you replied with your same gentle smile.

“Thank you. Will that be all, Your Eminence?”

You had been prepared for the Cardinal to shoo you away, possibly thanking you with another one of his thousand-yard smirks, but to your surprise, he didn’t. Instead, he wrinkled his brows in thought, walking slowly over to the velvet-tufted loveseat across from the mantel. His gloved hand stroked the back, fingertips brushing so lightly that they didn’t even leave a mark.

“Actually, no, Sorella,” he said, eyes fixed on the raspberry-hued fabric. You felt your lungs tighten. Had you forgotten something? You’d be the first to admit that you’d been distracted in your work lately, and it wouldn’t have surprised you to see that you missed something crucial. Terzo interrupted your worried visage, his duochromatic eyes flickering up to you with a sultry gaze. “...would you like to stay?”

His words had hit you square in the jaw, which you were sure was now hanging open just slightly at your surprise. You swallowed and stammered out, “I-I don’t want to intrude on your company, Cardinal.”

“I was hoping you would be my company tonight, Dolcezza.”

It was the first of many evenings spent with Terzo. The debut of your time together, if you will — and it was not at all what you had expected.

Tentatively, you agreed to the invitation, only doing so because you knew that his room was the last on your list to freshen and you were now technically done with your duties. You had watched as Terzo held his hand out to motion towards the seating by the fire, and you hesitantly moved to take a seat on the plump leather couch across from the loveseat.

To say that you had been nervous would be a gross understatement. Your senses drank in the stimulus around you — the pop of the bottle of sweet wine, the fizz of the bubbles blooming in the glass, the spicy, floral musk of Terzo’s cologne drifting through the air as he held out the flute for you to timidly accept — they all became cataloged in your mind as sensory memories of this first excursion.

If Terzo’s smooth, charming attitude hadn’t calmed you down, the prosecco surely had. Not long after you’d taken your first sip, Terzo had sat on the other side of the couch with his own glass in his gloved hand, his cardinal cassock floating down over his crossed legs like sin, and he had struck up a conversation. His body was turned towards yours, eyes always drinking in your form like it was the preferred spirit of the evening, as he asked you more about who you were.

He was easy to talk to (far easier to talk to than you’d expected). You divulged your history with the church and briefly described your one and a half year commitment with a peaceful pride. As a Cardinal, you were sure he spent the majority of the time discussing the intimacies of the ministry and you didn’t want to bore him.

“And what led you to the light bringer, Sorella?” he had asked you, fingertips stroking the stem of the champagne flute delicately, tenderly.

Even though you’d initially fabricated walls to guard you from revealing your past, Terzo’s soothing yet fascinating energy knocked them down almost instantaneously. You explained the falling out with your parents over your decisions for your career and lifestyle, how they’d refused to support you following your passions as it didn’t seem “financially prudent” to do so. With forlorn fondness, you recalled your relationship with your Granddad that had ended abruptly with his unforeseen death and how it had cracked your mother’s inward countenance and plastered it back up with vodka and Valium. The final straw, you explained, was your decision to openly renounce your faith and begin the exploration into different forms of spirituality. Terzo had listened intently, his face bleeding sympathy and compassion as you unraveled your past in a way you hadn’t since joining the order.

But despite the heavy conversation, the night turned to one of true connection as you both polished off the first bottle of prosecco (and eventually, most of the charcuterie). Laughter frequently permeated the air after the second bottle had been opened, and you giggled over shared stories of gossip about the ministry — Terzo even letting a few more secretive and scandalous pieces about the clergy loose after his fourth glass of bubbles.

By the end of the evening, you began to see Terzo in a new light. Before, he’d been the suave, debonair Cardinal with a reputation of philandry. But now, Terzo felt like a true kindred spirit. As you’d gotten up to leave (sea-legged from the alcohol, you might add) the Cardinal had offered you his hand to steady you. After helping you up, he continued holding onto your hand, his body advancing closer to you with a half-step.

You remember the light of the fire reflecting off the yin-yang black and white eye as he took in your features. You remember the notes of apple and pear on his breath. Most of all, you remember the words he purred out in a low, dulcet hum.

“I’m going to kiss you now, Dolcezza.”

And he had. Searingly slow, his lips lingered on yours for countless seconds before he pulled away completely.

It was the beginning of the downfall.

🜏🜏🜏

A mere two days after your memorable night with the Cardinal, you arrived at the workroom connecting the laundry to the housekeeping stores in increased anticipation to start your duties. Yesterday was your day off, and as such, you hadn’t had the opportunity to see Cardinal Terzo.

As soon as you set down your coffee thermos, Sister Teresa, a senior Sister of Sin, approached you with a jollied clap on her hands. She explained that the sister you’d been covering for had healed quite nicely from her surgery and was returning to work early — today, in fact — and your services in housekeeping would no longer be needed. With a chuckle, she reached out to touch your arm, saying, “It’s a blessing of timing from the Dark One. We have been running behind ever since you left!”

Outwardly, you nodded and thanked the sister for letting you know before heading through the connecting door to the laundry. Once out of sight, you sighed, turning to make your way down the walkway towards the oncoming chutes, closed fist lightly pounding against a pile of folded bedsheets as you passed. You weren’t exactly sure when you’d get to speak with Terzo again, which of course disappointed you, but you were arguably more disappointed that you’d spent the time shaving your legs and fussing over the exact flavor of lip balm before leaving for work today — all for naught.

That evening, you took your usual seat in the refectory with a slogged posture. Your hands smelled of bleach and detergent, and your skin felt dry from the dryer sheets you’d spent the afternoon picking from the dryer vent. After pouring yourself a healthy glug of table red from the decanter, you sighed and leaned back, watching as other siblings filled the room. After a few lengthy sips and more disassociation than you’d care to admit, you saw a flash of a black cassock from the corner of your eye. Towards the front of the refectory, seated at the clergy table, was Cardinal Terzo. He was mid conversation with one of the bishops and looked surprisingly pleased as he took a seat and accepted a glass of red similar to yours. His glance turned to your direction by chance and he met your eyes, smirking before raising his glass as he had so many times before. You raised yours back.

And on this went for the remainder of the week — you, successfully seeking out his gaze and him acknowledging you with a raised glass, a smile, or as of the night before, a wink. Each time made your heart patter so high in your chest that you could taste it in your throat (or maybe that was the pinot noir).

This particular night, after placing your napkin on the table and sipping the last drop of wine from the globe of the drink ware, you realized that this week put you into a state of melancholy. You’d felt trapped (an odd feeling in a church based on free will) and you craved a break in your monotonous routine. A walk would do you good, you'd decided. You breezed past a group of siblings and out the refectory doors so quickly that you hadn’t heard the voice calling your name from the other end of the room.

Down the cloister and to the gravel path your feet traveled, and just after you felt the crunch of the rocks beneath your shoes, a hand reached out to cup your shoulder. You’d turned with an inward huff, nearly frightened, but each muscle seemed to relax when you’d seen that it was just him, just Terzo, and a smile crept across your cheeks.

From an outward observer, the walk would have seemed ordinary. It wasn’t out of character for siblings to peruse the gardens in the evening, and members of the clergy indulged too, of course. But as you made your way through the carefully pruned rhododendrons and lilac-lined pathways, Terzo admitted something that made the stroll all but ordinary.

“I miss seeing you in my chambers, Dolcezza. I hope our kiss did not frighten you away.”

And of course you had assured him that it was anything but, explaining the predicament that brought you to the housekeeping staff in the first place, along with the reassignment to the ministry laundry earlier in the week.

As time wore on, you kept to your work in the laundry and he to his in the clergy, but both you and il Cardinale continued your joint traditions — the hushed glances at dinner, the occasional stretch through the church’s gardens. You shared the stories of your respective days, with the conversations always morphing into a mishmosh of memories or past experiences, with the occasional smattering of theological conversation. Sometimes you sealed the evening with a kiss, sometimes you didn’t. However, regardless of how the night ended, you always thought of the taste of his lips on yours (wine-bathed and smoky and soft).

Luckily, on occasion, the senior Sisters of Sin pulled the laundry staff to help out with housekeeping duties in the event of someone falling ill or needing to take time off. Each time this was proffered, you quickly volunteered, buttering the situation with the explanation that you had already filled in before and knew the routines and procedures, including the particulars of the clergy members. It made you appear as if you were flexible, hardworking, and willing to help the ministry in any way needed. Deep down, however, you knew that your real motivation was the off-chance that you’d get to see your raven-haired Cardinal.

One of these days you had all but physically jumped at the opportunity to help out with housekeeping. Your enthusiasm was nearly crushed when you found out that not only were they short staffed, but they had fallen behind due to a fairly extensive disaster left behind in an upper clergymen’s room by what appeared to be an entire pack of ghouls. In spite of your utter exhaustion at the end of the day (and shudders at the recollection of all the oddly sticky surfaces you had to wipe down while tidying up the ghoul pack’s aftermath), you found yourself

making the familiar trek to Terzo’s chambers. Ghoul juices aside, you had a slight jaunt in your step. The day’s unfortunate proclivities wouldn’t put a damper on your excitement of seeing the Cardinal. As soon as you entered his room, however, you noticed something felt strange.

Hoping to finish your more formal duties quickly, you beelined into the bathroom to replace the towels and gather the dirty laundry before passing through to his bedchambers. Removing and replenishing his sheets was like child's play now, and after a couple of minutes you had already balled up the used linens and placed them in the basket with the other laundry before turning to exit his bedroom.

You heard the crackling of the fireplace in his living space before you saw the dim flames, and the occasional scribbling sound of a pen against paper was even more of a telltale hint that you were not alone. Setting the basket down, you padded over to the leathered couch that reminded you of your first visit with the Cardinal and rested your hands against the back of it. Terzo was sitting against the rug, feet outstretched by the fire, with a notepad in hand. It had indeed been him slugging the fountain tip across the page, and from the balled up sheets of paper littering the floor, you gathered that whatever he was getting at was not a success.

“Your Eminence?” you rasped out softly, so quietly that he didn’t hear you. “Cardinal?”

With your slightly louder inquest, Terzo’s head shot up and his pen dropped against the paper pad with an audible clunk. The delighted expression on your face dimmed, though, when you noticed his own.

His usually slicked-back hair hung down in messy strands across his forehead, barely covering the lines that had formed there undoubtedly from a frequently furrowed brow. His eyes looked a little glassy, and although the paint around his eyes and upper lip didn’t seem to be tear-scathed, you could tell that he had rubbed at his face more than once by the blurry edges of the black makeup. In sum, Terzo looked doggedly stressed.

“Dolcezza,” his voice perked up with a hint of surprise, “What a treat it is to see you here.”

You could feel the color creeping into the apples of your cheeks like ripened fruit. “They needed a little extra assistance and I offered to help,” you explained, your voice calm and surprisingly steady at the scene in front of you.

“Ahh, bene.” Terzo threw the notepad down to the floor with a little more oomph than you expected, stretching his feet out in front of him. You noted that they were dangerously close to the fire.

“Is everything alright?” you asked as you came closer, rounding the couch to sit down next to him on the floor, “you seem a little —” you paused, unsure of whether to continue lest you come off insulting, yet decided to risk it, “ —stressed.”

The Cardinal sighed. “SÌ,” he breathed out, slipping his hand through his hair for what had to have been the dozenth time that evening. “I am to give the sermon at black mass tomorrow.”

Your lips curved into a proud smile. “Black mass? That’s…well, an honor, really.”

Terzo nodded. “SÌ… however, I have yet to finish it. I keep coming to a stop, like a eh—” he paused, his hand motioning in circles as if to demonstrate that he was searching for the correct word, “ —barrier, in my mind.”

Folding your legs underneath you (and being careful to adjust the skirt of your habit), you turned to face him. “You have writer’s block?”

“If I am to be completely honest, I have never delivered a sermon at Black Mass before.” He sighed again and you noted that there was a lot of weight in that sigh. He looked down, flipping the pen to and fro between his slender fingers. “A lot is riding on this performance and I fear I will be nothing but a disappointment.”

At this, your body stiffened. Terzo had always seemed so confident, so demure, and you were taken aback by his insecurity. “Cardinal,” you began, inching just a bit closer, “you are anything but a disappointment.”

At this, the painted man beside you laughed. “Ahh, yes, il stronzo, perhaps…”

You rolled your eyes at his self-deprecation. “Based on our conversations during our walks, I think you will do beautifully. You have quite the mind for theology, and you speak eloquently and with conviction.” You licked the curve of your lips, craning a bit to try to see his downtrodden eyes. “Maybe it’s yourself you should have some faith in?”

At your kind words, Terzo raised his head, his hair partially hiding the milky white eye that you had never quite become accustomed to. “I’m afraid I will just disappoint you, cara. As well as the congregation.” At this, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his fist clenching as he softly pounded the ground in frustration. “Figlio di puttana…”

The way he looked right now reminded you of the first moment you approached him: vulnerable, closed in on himself, raw, and before you knew it, you reached out your hand to gently touch his left arm, your own fingertips brazenly trailing up and down the wool-covered limb. Your touch surprised the Cardinal, and his eyes met yours once more — this time, the widened emerald one peering straight through you.

What you didn’t know was how touched Terzo was by your compassion at this moment. Of course, he knew how much you cared and sacrificed for others, but you never ceased to amaze him with your empathy and tenderness. His heart beamed in a way he hadn’t felt since childhood, and as he drank in your alluring stare, he couldn’t resist the urge to study your beauty in the firelight. He noted the way the flames etched against the contours of your cheeks and jaw, shadows drawn across bone.

Putting his gloved hand on your own, he found himself leaning towards you, his fingers squeezing yours as his breath stilled in his throat. Warm lips — one painted and one bare — pressed against your own and you felt at home again. Your kisses with Terzo had always felt this way, and although they were a bit of an unconstant, you relished in the moments you’d get to feel him like this.

Your eyes fluttered closed. Head tilting ever so slightly, your body mirrored his own as you melted into the touch. Faint wine and the bitter tang of paint touched your tongue while you moved your lips against his, the slower series of pecks diverging into something a little more heated, urgent, needy.

As you sat like this, all you could hear was the crackling of the fire in front of you, the light smacking of your lips moving in unison, and the intakes and exhales of shared breath. It felt much more intimate than you were used to with Terzo. But most of all, it felt right.

His hand trailed from yours and danced across the flesh of your neck to your jawline, cupping it gently as he tilted to deepen your connection, tongue tasting your lips (for self-gratification or permission, you weren’t sure). You also weren’t exactly sure how you ended up lateral on the thick rug, or how your hand had found purchase in his slicked back hair, or how his own had pushed the fabric of your skirt up around your bare thigh, or even how your bodies had been pulled so impossibly close. Nevertheless, you found yourself wrapped in air thickened with firewood and his cologne and the humid heat of your kisses and exhales, and Satan below the way his trouser covered leg had parted your own to tangle you both into one being had your mind swimming.

“Let me take you,” he had whispered to you, his breath warm against the corner of your lip and the curve of your cheek, “let me have you here, like I’ve always wanted to.”

That was all it took. The look in his eyes had been flooded with desire and it overcame your ability to do anything but completely submit to his request.

He moved over top of you, his arms lifting up criss-crossed to pull his jacket and button up off his slender, muscular frame. Flamed illumination danced across the ridges of the muscles of his chest, the smooth, lightly tanned skin that still seemed so deliciously pale for an Italian man, and your eyes took in stills to catalog in your memory while he slid his hands up and under your dress uniform.

Terzo mimicked the action with your dress, pulling it over your head quickly before tossing it casually to the side. His hand slipped underneath you and before you realized it, the tension of your bra loosened and the garment was quickly abandoned. As cool air pricked the skin of your breasts, the Cardinal’s eyes wandered down to stare at them in the dim light. He bit at the tips of his gloved fingers to loosen the silken material, pulling them off to reveal slender, strong hands that reached for your soft skin.

He must have noticed he look of insecurity that painted your face, of shyness, because he began to trace your curves with his fingertips, just barely, butterfly wings against the surface, and murmured out “Cosi bella…” as they shimmered across the peak of your nipples.

Far back in the recesses of your mind, you felt dips of worry. Was this something that he said to everyone he was with? Was this how he treated all the women he’d brought back to his quarters — the quarters that you’d cleaned and prepared? But each time your mind wandered there, you pulled it back with a yank of a leash to the present. You were here, this was now, and you were going to enjoy what was happening in this moment.

Your mouths connected again, this time more wantonly, and all you could taste was the uniqueness that was simply Terzo — the wine, the smokiness, the dark face paint. A groan escaped his lips into your own and he moved to box you in with his thighs on either side of your body. One hand found room just by your head against the ground and held him above you, while the other clutched to your left breast, kneading and squeezing at you with a mix of adoration and longing.

When he brought his hips down to press against your own, you let forth your own series of moans into his mouth, and he all but combusted as he ripped your lips apart, hands hurriedly unbuckling his pants to shimmy them down his legs. Your reaches crossed one another’s as you both grasped at each other’s undergarments and tandemly pulled them down over hips and skin, revealing your bare forms in communion.

From there you lie naked on the rug, Terzo on top of you, with sweat-slicked skin osculating as tongues and teeth gnashed passionately. Veil and shoes were long forgotten. You could feel his hard length pressing against the space between your sex and your thigh and it made a chill wash over the expanse of your body. As his hips rutted against your pelvis, he slid between your folds, slick coating him with delicious friction, and your arms wound under his own to curl around the strong muscles of his back and shoulders. You broke the kiss with a whimper and crooked your neck to the side.

“Cardinal,” you hummed out, a little more needy than you had intended to, “don’t make me wait any more.”

He lifted his head to look in your eyes, a chuckle reaching past his lips as his hair nearly dripped across your forehead.

“The virtue of patience isn’t something we celebrate in our faith, Dolcezza,” he purred as he brought his face close to yours, breath pricking across your lips and cheek as he moved his mouth to ghost your earlobe, “ —and I think you’ve waited long enough.”

With that, he pulled his hips back and you whined at the brief loss, your breath stilted as he pushed forward almost immediately, his cock pushing past your folds and into you firmly. You let out a choked groan and your eyes ripped open, watching the darkness of his pupils overtake his unmatched irises as he sank into you to the hilt.

Your leg came up to hook around his hip and thigh as he pistoned in and out of you. Your hand gripped the furry fibers of the rug below, the other still curved around his back to hang onto his shoulder like he’d disintegrate if you let go. With every thrust you found God, and every retreat you went searching for redemption.

Your Cardinal found solace in the arch of your neck, teeth nipping at skin and tendon as he grunted along with each forward movement.

“Così buono con me. Sei così buono con me.”

Tension built up inside of your core, tugging at the muscles of your abdomen, and you felt your grip tighten around Terzo. Despite the stricture, you could feel your core blooming, softening taking everything he had as he worked himself inside of you, hips rolling and grinding.

The smell of the sweat on his skin and the burning wood of the fire lit your own flames deep within you and you could feel your impending release begin to blossom. “More,” you cried, the noise so sweet in taste and sound to Terzo that he couldn’t help but obey.

He pressed his lips to your neck in a series of wet marks. Your hand abandoned the rug and came up to card through his air, fingertips winding around the strands with a needy tug as you felt your pussy begin to contract around his thick cock. He knew you were close because he kept going, never faltering in his pace or touch, moaning little praises into the skin of your clavicle until lightening rushed through your veins.

You came and it felt like everything and nothing all at once. You weren’t sure if you’d made any noise at all, but as your jaw hung open, eyes fluttering back into your skull, you were certain that within the Cardinal’s arms was the only place you were meant to be. Here, now, releasing yourself to him completely, with the firelight plaguing the walls as a reminder of your devotion to him, your Cardinal, and to the flames of hell and the one below.

Terzo was soon to follow with his own orgasm. You could sense him tensing, his length twitching as his hips began to jolt against your own unrhythmically, throaty growls punctuating his movements. And as he filled you, you trembled against him from the fiery char of your release, your own inner muscles twitching as you welcomed his spend as sacrament.

Breath stilted and waned as he lay collapsed against you, skin slick with the proof of your union, and your fingertips found purchase soothingly stroking against his scalp. A beat passed and you relaxed in the aftermath of just the two of you. Terzo was the first to speak.

“Was it worth it?” he hummed out, eyes peering up at you from his head that rested against your soft breasts.

You furrowed your brows with a small smile. “What do you mean?” you asked.

He tittered and brought his hand to trace along the line of your jaw. “The wait,” he clarified, thumb rubbing sweetly over your chin, “Was it worth it?”

You felt warmth course through your chest and leak into your limbs. It was different than before. It was new, yet oddly familiar — like remembrance, uncovering a dusted memory. Your hand came up to clasp over his own on your chin, and you brought it to your lips, pressing them slowly, repeatedly against his skin.

“You’re always worth it.”

🜏🜏🜏

Yet now, as you soak in the humidity that paints your skin while you move across the courtyard and to a lesser occupied area of the Ministry gardens, your mind replays your words from that night. “You’re always worth it.” Always. So finite, so absolute.

You continued to walk, searching for a prayer, a sign from the one below that everything will click into place and the grand plan will be revealed over time. And as you settled down onto an earthen stone bench overlooking an old statue of the Emeritus family, eyes cast towards the statue that partially formed the man you’d fallen from grace for, you realized that there was no hot rain.

Only tears.

Tag list: @copiasghoulfriend @copias-juicebox @the-lisechen @anamelessfool

Image Credit(s): Pinterest

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bupia · 7 months

Note

bael hello

13 on smuts with Terzo…

FACE SITTING

"Makes me want to wreck you."

There's a smut under the cut, +18 only, please.

(AFAB!Reader: oral sex; dirty talk; Terzo is very sweet and romantic)

Available on AO3

Day 12 | Day 14

"So, what do you think?" Terzo inquired, a mischievous grin gracing his lips.

You hesitated, feeling a surge of uncertainty. "I... I'm not entirely certain," you admitted, your voice laced with insecurity.

"Why the hesitation, amore?" Terzo's brow furrowed. "It was a simple request, just sit on my face."

You gazed at him and closed your eyes. "I... I can't do it."

"Why not? Don't you want to make your Papa happy?" Terzo's tone held a hint of offense.

"No, it's not that," you sighed, resting your hands on his chest. "I want to make you happy, Papa. It's just... what if I..."

"What if you?"

"What if I accidentally break you?" you wondered, meeting Terzo's gaze.

Suddenly, his expression transformed, and he burst into hearty laughter, covering his face with his hands.

"Terzo, please stop!" you protested, ready to rise from the bed.

"Amore, amore, I apologize deeply," he said, still chuckling, as he sat on the bed and reached for your lower back, pulling you close.

You nodded, offering him a small smile. Terzo leaned in, gently pressing a quick, tender kiss to your lips. He gazed into your eyes and then shifted his attention to your mouth, showering you with a series of kisses. The affectionate onslaught continued as he planted sweet kisses all over your face, causing you to break into a fit of giggles.

Terzo reclined on the bed, resting his hands on your thighs, his thumb tracing delicate patterns. Your own hands remained on his chest, and you began a slow exploration, trailing your fingertips downward, savoring the sensation of his warm skin, the contours, and the shared heat between you.

"You won't break me," he reassured you in a gentle tone. "And even if you did, that would be an honor."

You sighed, lowering your head, avoiding his gaze. His hands shifted from your thighs to your hips, and he pulled you closer, making you sit on his chest.

"Come on," he urged, squeezing your hips. "Don't act like that, let me do it, I'm trying to be romantic and more... passionate today."

You lowered your body, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead before resting your head beside his. Your eyes met, and you both shared a smile. Although uncertainty still lingered, you contemplated whether or not to go through with it. Terzo desired it, and you found yourself wanting it too. You lifted your body slightly, positioning yourself, yet the fear of sitting on his held you back.

"Take your sit, amore mio," he whispered looking hungrily at between your your legs.

Your heart began to beating rapidly as you slowly lowered your body onto him. The warmth of his breath caressed your skin causing you to shiver. Terzo wrapped your arms around your waist pushing you down onto his face, you gasped and the vibrations of him giggling tickled your wetness. You looked down seeing his eyes looking straight at you, then suddenly you felt his tongue sliding across your flesh. You threw your head back letting a soft moan escape your lips.

You shivered in pleasure as you felt his tongue delved deeper inside you. His tongue lapped on your juices, causing you to moan in pleasure. He withdrew his arms from around you, reaching up for your ass, pulling you closer. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment as his tongue slid up and down your slit.

"Mmm... Papa... Ah..! Papa... T-That feels good... Very good..." you moaned softly, your tone a little breathless from the pleasure that was already built inside you.

The tip of his tongue reached for your clit, flicking it, causing you to shudder. His tongue slid deep into your wetness, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His tongue was so warm, it felt like it was touching every inch of your core. Your hands went to the headboard of the bed, and Terzo wrapped his arms around your thighs, keeping you in place.

"Oh, that's... yes... Papa! Fu-Fuck!" you rolled your eyes to the back of your head in pleasure, biting your lower lip. "Yes, just like that, that's so good... yes!"

The sensation of his tongue sliding up and down your slit made you feel even more aroused. You began to grind against his face, moaning a little more louder. Your hips were moving back and forth, grinding your clit on his nose. His tongue lapped at your juices, darting inside of you. Once again, you felt the tip of his tongue on your swollen clit, teasing it, making you ache for more. You began rocking your hips faster, feeling the pleasure building within you.

You closed your eyes enjoying the sensations, throwing your head back. Terzo reached for your clit with his mouth, sucking it into his mouth. You opened your eyes, looking down, watching him lick at your wetness, loving the sight of him enjoying you. Your breath became heavier, your heart beating faster. You grabbed onto Terzo's hair, pulling him closer. He moaned against your core sending waves of vibrations from your core to your body.

"Oh... Oh... Papa! Mmmm...." you purred, pulling his hair slightly. "Your mouth is... so... good..."

Terzo pulled away from his core, looking at you with a smirk. "My mouth is good, sì? Wait until you have my cock inside of that delicious pussy of yours."

"Oh! Pap-Ah!" you whimpered as you heard his words.

Terzo went back with his mouth to your core, lapping his tongue hungrily. Your eyes widened and a loud moan escaped your mouth. Your hips were rocking back and forth, grinding your clit against his mouth. He was devouring your juices and you were crying out loudly.

"No! Yes! Papa! Fu- Oh! I... I'm going... If you keep going like this... I- Ah!"

He lowered his mouth going with his tongue to your entrance, inserting it inside you. You arched your back, pressing your core harder against his mouth. He started to thrust his tongue inside you, licking your walls. You clenched around his tongue, squeezing it tightly. You were moving your hips, making small circles. You raised your hips, grinding your clit against his nose, your hands gripping his hair and the bed's headboard.

"Papa...! Papa...! Pap-Ah!" you screamed out, feeling your body tensing up.

You slammed your hips against his face, grinding your clit hard against his nose. Your body shook, your legs trembled as he continued to eat you out, drinking your juices. You screamed as you came hard on his mouth, riding his face. Your body convulsed, your juices flowing from you. He didn't stop eating you out. He continued lapping at your juices, drinking it.

You collapsed on your back on top of him, breathing heavily. You rested your head on his thigh, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm. You slowly sat up on his hips, looking at him. His hands went to your hips, gently caressing them. You giggled as you saw his face glistening, and his paint smudged around his lips.

"See, amore?" Terzo began, "I told you that you wouldn't break me."

He sat on the bed, holding you on top of him. He lowered your body on the bed, laying you down, staying on top of you.

"But I unfortunately have bad news," Terzo whispered. "Sì, sì, terrible news."

"What? What's wrong, Papa?" you asked concerned.

"I'm afraid that I'm the one who will break you," he said, grinning devilish. "Because the way you rode my face and moaned for me, only made me want to wreck you."

You bit your lip as you saw the lust in his eyes. Terzo leaned in, kissing you deeply. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. You kissed him passionately, your tongues dancing with each other, with your bodies entwined and your hands caressing each other's skin.

#kinktober #ghost band #ghost bc #the band ghost #papa emeritus x reader #ghost the band #terzo #terzo ghost #terzo x reader #terzo smut #smut #papa emeritus 3 #papa emeritus iii #terzo fanfiction #ghost terzo #papa terzo #papa emeritus terzo

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leezlelatch · 7 months

Text

Terzo x GN! Reader

A very kind person pointed out that I had a gendered term in here and I apologize if it took anyone out of the story. It has been fixed!

~6,200 words, contains diner shenanigans, dancing, and sad to happy Terzo. You spend your evenings writing at the old diner in town, looking for your next great story idea. And then Terzo Emeritus walks through the door.

The neon diner sign of rocket red and electric blue illuminates the small parking lot and the few cars strung about haphazardly in their spots. Next to the dumpster in the back, a young couple attempts to get a few heated touches in before the back door swings open, sending them running while the whistling cook pours a bucket of grease into the grassy patch nearby. The few patrons inside sit on different ends of a diner that hasn’t changed a wink since it was erected, although the same couldn’t be said for the diehards who have been coming since their kids were kids or since they were kids. The lone waitress on duty pours another cup of coffee for an overworked cop, while a businessman in a booth runs a hand through his well-oiled hair, his eyes vacant while he comes up with another excuse for his wife as to why the paycheck is short again this week.

You make eye contact with a young boy sitting at a table with his sister and parents. He smiles at you, and your lips curve in a genuine one yourself. There’s a diversity here. That’s the reason you keep coming back, although the cheeseburgers certainly make their own argument. You make a silly face at the boy and wink, his smile broadening as he giggles before turning back to the chicken nuggets his mother is trying very hard to get him to eat. You take a breath and rub your fingers against your palms before turning back to your laptop, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you regard the blank document.

Writing is so damn difficult, and honestly, you wonder how James Patterson gets away with publishing a hundred books a year. At this point, we all know it isn’t him writing. No, the real writers are out here, plugging away in old diners and trying not to go insane. At this point, you don’t even know where the plot is going, and you regret not making an outline. But you need ideas for outlines and you’re fresh out of them.

“I should just go back to writing fanfiction,” you mumble, resting your chin on your hand while sighing in frustration.

The dainty ring of the old bell above the door draws your attention to the front, and you watch with interest as the newest addition to this motley crew enters. You’ve never seen him before. In the weeks that you’ve made this place your writing home, you’ve gotten to know most of its patrons. They’re typical small town people with problems, just like you have problems, but they’re the type of people who always have a good morning on the tip of their tongue and call you honey. But this guy. Boy, did he break the mold.��

He’s older, maybe above 50, close to 60. The wrinkles around his eyes and forehead are cut deep, and it draws your writer’s curiosity to wonder if they’re from laughter or pain. His face is set in a neutral expression as his eyes scan the diner, and you feel yourself inching forward in your seat, squinting a little.

Am I seeing right? you think, watching as the man moves toward the counter. His left eye looks strange, milky from where you’re sitting, and you immediately conclude that he must be blind in one eye.

You quickly look away and down at your table, your eyes a little wide. Judging much? you scold yourself. Jesus, get a grip. You’re not that damn bored.

Despite your internal reproach, your eyes flicker back up to watch the man as he takes off his jacket and lays it over one arm, politely waiting for the waitress to turn around as she refills the coffee pot. He’s wearing a dark purple button-up, sleeves rolled up to expose dainty wrists and forearms covered in dark hair. He’s that dark and debonair type, his hair that kind of black that’s almost unnatural, probably dyed. His bangs fall into his face, a long-fingered hand coming up to brush it away from his eyes. Your eyebrows raise as the errant lock of hair settles in a perfect wave with its brethren, unmoving. So the handsome older stranger has perfect hair, entirely unsurprising and very much appreciated.

You quickly glance down at your laptop when his eyes sweep across the room, likely looking for a place to sit, and you’re faced with your blinking cursor once more. Ignore the most interesting person you’ve seen walk in here in weeks, and write your damn story.

“Hello, how are you doing?” His accented voice floats across the diner.

Fuck it.

You watch him greet the waitress with a smile, his arm not holding the jacket coming up to rest on the counter as he casually leans, crossing one foot over the other. Penny, the poor woman caught in the clutches of that peculiar stare, flounders like a fish for several seconds before asking what she could get him. You try to peg his accent as he asks for black coffee with a squeeze of lemon, but all you can think about is how lovely the words sound coming out of those full lips. At this point, you begin to wonder if you’re in heat.

“You sure you don’t want cream, honey?” Penny asks him, pouring his coffee in one of those chipped porcelain mugs.

“No, thank you. I am lactose intolerant,” the man chuckles lightly and presses a hand to his stomach. “It will come back like a ghost.”

“A ghost?” Penny frowns.

“Eh, to haunt me. Stomach troubles. This is what I get for trying English phrases, no?”

“Oh. Right,” Penny laughs a little uncomfortably and slides his coffee across the counter. “That’ll be a dollar fifty.”

The man slides a twenty across the counter and smiles pleasantly at her with a quiet, lilted, “Keep the change, per favore.”

He turns and makes his way to a table about two away from yours, and reaches into the pocket of his jacket. He pulls out a small notebook, moleskin, and leaves the jacket draped over the empty chair beside him before taking a seat. Your eyes peer over the top of your laptop, watching as he warms his hands on his cup for a moment, just staring into the mug with an unreadable expression. There is something sad about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on. Honestly, you shouldn’t be trying. It’s rude. You’re rude. And the poor man probably just wants to enjoy a cup of joe before going home for the night.

As he lifts the mug to his lips, his eyes catch yours. His left eye isn’t milky, the iris is entirely white, pupil like a pinprick. God, you just wanna fling your laptop across the room. You are so goddamn nosy, and look what happened. Embarrassed, and thoroughly blushing, you look away for a moment before compelled, you return his odd gaze. He smiles at you and tips his mug in greeting before taking that first sip which prompts a satisfied sigh to escape that perfect mouth and you want to die.

You start to type on your keyboard, nonsensical stuff to make it look like you’re working and not obsessing, but all you can manage to write is, “I am as thirsty for this old man as he is for his cup of coffee.” Oh my god, delete that now. What is wrong with you?

I’m never leaving my apartment again, you think. I’m not doing it. He’s been in here for 10 minutes and I am acting like a looney toon.

Taking a deep cleansing breath, you take a big bite of your nearly cold cheeseburger like a feral animal before cracking your knuckles, determined to get back to your story. You begin to write a descriptive opening for the scene, and as the story progresses, seemingly slipping from your brain to your fingers to the document on the screen, you decide that it’s going to be a romance. Perhaps entirely inspired by the man a few tables away from you, but hey! That’s the reason you come here. It’s paying off.

Your eyes unwittingly fall on the man once more, and he’s hunched over the little notebook, a pencil in his hand as he writes. His lips move, silently reading along with each stroke of his pencil, and he more than once has to brush that bang away from his forehead, causing a smile to light your face. Not so perfect hair after all. Ah well, who are you kidding? Even the messy bang is its own perfection.

His fingers rise to his face and he pauses for a moment as if he’s remembering something before shaking his head a little with a barely perceptible smile and scratching his nose. He heaves a sigh and looks about the diner again, his eyes falling on the sign that claims the diner sells Pepsi fresh. You watch his eyebrows turn in, deepening the wrinkles which pucker above the bridge of his nose, giving him an angry look which coupled with his white eye could make anyone shiver in intimidation.

The family sitting nearby finish their meal and stand up, the kids talking exuberantly as they put their jackets on. The little boy runs ahead of his parents and nearly trips, the man on instinct half-standing, his chair scraping across the linoleum as he makes a small lunge toward the boy in order to prevent his falling. The kid rights himself without help, and looks at the stranger with a nervous, wide-eyed stare.

“It is alright, little one. I fall very often,” the man says with a soft smile, making a show of nearly tripping and falling back into his seat with an “oof!” The little boy starts to giggle, and you feel your own cheeks heat as you watch them interact. It’s so incredibly sweet, and the way the man’s eyes shine as he nods the family out the door makes you wonder if he has his own children at home. Likely grown. But the lack of a ring on his finger says otherwise, although…that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

Your stranger turns back to his notebook and picks up his pencil, taking another sip of his coffee with his free hand. When he presses the lead to the page, it snaps. He stares down at the broken piece for several seconds before his hand curls into a fist, and it looks as if he may throw the pencil across the room in the very same way you considered throwing your laptop. His expression changes, no longer soft and sweet as it was with the boy, or politely curious. It crumbles as if he was just given bad news, his mouth cutting a severe line. That bang falls into his face, and he doesn’t bother to push it away, letting it hang limp in front of his eyes that are hollow, vacant.

And then he looks up. And it’s gone. He looks only minorly inconvenienced, his gaze once more falling on you. He leans across the table slightly, an arm reaching across the expanse as he attempts to catch your eyes which are hyper focused on your laptop. You are the master of being inconspicuous, for sure.

“Excuse me? May I bother you for a moment?” Such a basic question, and yet his accent caresses each word with a musical quality.

“Hi, yes?” You inquire, finally meeting his gaze. If there ever was a moment to ‘audibly swallow’ as so many fanfictions describe, it would be now.

“Well, I must have a very strong grip because my pencil broke before I could get a single line on paper,” he says, holding up his broken pencil. “And as my brother would say, I do not have a brain, and forgot to bring another.”

He pauses for a moment to admire your amused smile at his words which bolsters his own. He gives a little shrug, “He also says to get out of my room and write, but I cannot do so without a pencil, sì? I end up bothering a lovely young person like yourself who have better things to do than entertain such an old chatterbox.”

“Is there a question in there?” You tease, arching a brow. You tilt your laptop screen down to better see him, and you don’t miss the way his eyes scan your face.

He puts his hands up and you take note of a signet ring on his right hand, but from this angle, you are unable to see the symbol adorning it. “What did I say, huh? I talk too much. My question is, do you have a pencil? Or a pen, if it is not too much trouble.”

“Are you a writer?” You ask, picking up your bag to rummage through for the pen you know is hiding at the bottom.

“Perhaps it is one of many things I do.”

“Perhaps?” You find the pen, and pull it out, scooting back from your chair.

“No, no, please don’t get up,” he says, slipping from his chair to approach you. You feel a rush in your chest as he comes to stand beside you, your head tilting up to meet his eyes, immediately entranced by the lovely shade of green in his right one.

“One would have to write to be a writer, no?” He continues, lightly taking the pen from your hand. His ring has the sigil of Lucifer carved into the face.

“Which is what you were doing, until your pencil broke,” you point out.

“It is more of a hobby than a profession.”

“A writer is a writer no matter if you do it day, night, or in between time spent staring into the void,” you say, your eyes returning to your half-closed laptop.

“Ah, I am familiar with the void,” the man chuckles softly.

“Hell?” You question, your gaze once more falling to his ring.

His handsome features turn confused for a moment, following your gaze before stretching out his fingers and making a small noise of acknowledgement. “Ah, my ring! Sì, sì,” he laughs again, turning his hand this way and that to admire the gold. “Do you believe Hell is a void?” He asks you then.

“I don’t believe Hell is particularly anything,” you return, watching as he pulls out the chair next to you, pausing for a moment to give you a questioning look before you nod, and he settles himself in.

“What if I told you Hell is a beautiful place?” The man asks.

“Are you preaching?”

“Preaching is one of the things that I do,” he shrugs.

“Usually one introduces themself before trying to convert another to their religion…or cult?” You smirk.

His eyebrows fly up into his hairline and his full bottom lip drops open. There’s a beat of a second before those fingers are once more running through his dark hair as he leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I am being not very nice,” he shakes his head. “You can call me…Terzo. And no, I am not trying to convert you. And no, it is not a cult.” He slaps his lips, waving his hand around like a conductor. “Okay, maybe it is a cult, but it is a good one!” He pauses. “Sometimes.” He pauses again. “It is trying to be.”

“Interesting,” you say slowly.

“I am bothering you,” Terzo mumbles, placing his hands on his thighs as he moves to stand. “Mi dispiace. Sorry. Sorry.”

“Hey!” You reach out a hand to touch his arm. As your fingers wrap around his wrist, the both of you freeze - you in your seat floundering like a fish and Terzo half-standing, the oddest expression on his face. You quickly let go with a small apology before saying, “I meant interesting as in actually interesting. I’m interested.” The last part comes out almost like a quiet plea.

Terzo nods slowly and sits back down, his knees cracking as he does. He gives you a weak smile as he reaches a hand down to rub at one absently. “Do not get old.”

“Are you Italian?” You question.

“What gave it away?” He teases, arching a bushy brow.

“Accent and interwoven Italian words aside, it was your name. Terzo means third, right?”

“Do you know Italiano, uh…okay, now you are the rude one not giving me your name, huh?” He smiles.

You laugh and hold up your hands, “You got me.” You provide your name, and Terzo lights up, tilting your pen still clutched in his hand toward his chin. “What’s that sneaky expression for?” You add.

“Names have power, don’t you know? You have given me a gift.” He wiggles his foot, tapping the pen against his chin.

“Are you going to take my name back with you to your non-cult cult?” You reach out to close your laptop the rest of the way, wholly invested in this conversation.

“Only if the owner comes with it.” He leans forward, a glint in his white eye.

“Ha! Knew it. You are trying to convert me.”

The both of you break into easy laughter, and you notice that Terzo’s smile has finally reached his eyes, so unlike the half-smile built into a blank face he provided Penny earlier, or the melancholy which overshadowed his playfulness with the little boy. His smile is crooked, wide, and his eyes wrinkle deeply at the corners. It’s sweet, and so very beautiful.

“You did not answer my question,” Terzo continues, tilting his head to the side slightly. “Do you know Italian?”

“Ah, no,” you laugh shyly. “I just know primo, secondo, and terzo mean first, second, and third. Among other random vocabulary.”

“Well, you just named three men of the Emeritus family.”

“Emeritus? Is that your last nam-…wait,” you arch a brow. “I named them?”

“Eh sì, my eldest brother Primo, then Secondo, and myself. My fratellino is Copia, he was spared the numerics,” Terzo shrugs amusedly.

You start to speak and then stop, looking down at the table, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you fight a smile.

“I realize it sounds ridiculous. Our father, as Copia likes to say, is a dickhead,” Terzo supplies.

“Okay, it’s funny,” you concede, grinning. “But it’s not…it’s not bad. Terzo is a very lovely name. I like it. After all, three is considered the perfect number. Full of magic.”

“I have been known to carry a few tricks up my sleeve,” Terzo says with a charming smile. “Do you believe in magic? In the alteration of space and time? Conjuration, for example.”

“I believe that there are things in this world that we don’t fully understand.”

“Ah! And Hell is so hard to believe?”

“I don’t know. I guess if I had to believe in something, it would be what you said. That Hell is beautiful. I’d want it to be accepting of flaws. And mistakes. Lucifer was the original rebel, right? I don’t want to believe in a place of pain,” you say, unable to believe that you’re discussing the afterlife with this man, virtually a stranger. Really, you can’t believe you’re talking to him at all. Your night at the diner is certainly not the quiet, uneventful one you expected it to be.

Perhaps a new story began the moment Terzo Emeritus walked through that door.

“That is a Christian concept. And excuse me, fucking wrong. I know this, I am Papa,” Terzo delivers this line as if he’s done it a hundred times and believes it to be one hundred percent true.

“Papa?” The word comes out of your mouth as if he just announced himself as “big daddy” to the entire diner.

Terzo’s expression drops in an instant. The confidence he exuded moments before melts away, his fingers twitching and tapping against the table with a nervous air. He tries to smile, but it wobbles, becoming a strange half-frown. “Forget I said that,” he says. “Per favore, eh…please.”

“What are you trying to write?” You ask, gesturing toward his little notebook which still sits at his table, closed. Terzo gives you a small smile of thanks before getting up and collecting his things, returning to your table to sit and open his notebook to the page he was working at.

He wags a finger at you. “Big mistake inviting me to sit, now I won’t fuck off. Dispiace. I say fuck a lot. And shit.”

“Every writer needs a colorful vocabulary.”

“Ah, sì. And you are so intent on hiding yours, huh?” He makes a playful grab at your laptop. You almost shout in alarm, pulling it back, before looking apologetically around the diner. Penny squints at the both of you suspiciously. Terzo snickers beside you, his hand to his mouth.

“It’s not done,” you hiss quietly.

“You expect me to show you mine then, tch tch tch!,” Terzo shakes his head. “Have you ever heard of a little tit for tat, darling?” Terzo’s smile widens and he ducks his head to try and peer under your half-closed screen which you swiftly close with a click. He tilts his head, gazing at you from beneath long lashes. “Is it erotic?”

You give him a withering look, your cheeks flushing a pink that makes his eyebrows raise with a gentle smile that replaces his teasing smirk. He appears fascinated, his eyes scanning your features for several seconds. You have no words for the sudden change in his demeanor, and you look at him with equal quiet reverence. Something unknown passing between the two of you.

“I should not tease you,” he says then, his voice a few octaves lower. “I never show my writing to anyone, well…that is going to change soon.”

“Why’s that?” You ask, your gaze falling to his notebook where his messy cursive loops across the page, rendering you unable to read it from your position at the table.

“If you must know, curious thing, I am writing a song. I am a musician. A singer,” he says, bending his hand at the wrist which he flings to the side with a grandiose flair.

“Really?” The incredulity in your voice makes him frown at you, a bushy eyebrow arching.

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“No! No, it’s not that. I just would think as a songwriter, you would sing or…like someone would have heard your work at some point. Why keep it a secret?”

“You are full of questions, volpino,” he says with a little smirk, tilting his head to regard you with amused eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you answer immediately, shying away from his gaze. “I guess I’m prying pretty hard. Tit for tat, right?”

“I never said your curiosity was unwelcome. Believe it or not, but I like to talk about myself,” he winks, and it makes you laugh. Terzo closes his eyes and hums a little.

“I’m writing romance. Which, I know. Not exactly original.”

“Che cosa?” His eyes open and he shakes his head. “Not original, pah! Some of the greatest works in the literary canon are romances, yeah?”

“I can hardly write like Jane Austen,” you scoff.

“Sì, but perhaps you are more like a Brontë. Ah no,” he snaps his fingers. “Mary Shelley.”

“Frankenstein isn’t a romance,” you say, laughing softly as he holds up both of his fingers, leaning forward in his chair.

“Then you are not reading it correctly,” he says, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment which momentarily distracts you. “Who do you believe is the true monster? Victor or the Creature?”

“Victor,” you answer immediately.

Terzo smiles and nods, gesturing at you with his hand. “Then it is a romance. Albeit, a tragic one.”

“The Creature wanted to be loved,” you say quietly, looking into Terzo’s eyes, and unintentionally focusing on the white one. “They saw him at face-value, not the soul who celebrated nature, who yearned for purpose, and was cast out by the man who was supposed to be his father.”

“Exactly,” Terzo whispers, nodding slightly. That heavy melancholy was back, settling over the lines of his face like a shadow which he hid behind a mask of easy smiles and witty banter. His Creature.

“Are you okay?” You finally ask, unable to hold yourself back when this mysterious and beautiful man looks so incredibly sad. If you were being honest with yourself, there is something about his melancholy that feels familiar to you, like a beast you are too afraid to poke.

Terzo merely smiles, and leans his head back to laugh a little, rubbing his hands together before picking up his notebook. “Sì! I am always okay. Always good. You asked me about my song, correct?” He enunciates the word, landing hard on the ‘T’. “It is called Zenith. I am not usually the songwriter of my eh…little group. This is a first. And I expect it will not go over well.”

“Go over well with whom?”

“Now you are asking the right questions, volpino. There are…individuals, hmm…authority figures in my organization. Let me rephrase that - there are individuals in my organization who think they have authority. They have to approve the song.”

“And you think they won’t?” You ask, suddenly feeling like you are hearing things that perhaps you shouldn’t be privy to. Secrets unraveling, another chapter of this mystery opening the more the man talks.

“Perhaps they do not like me very much,” Terzo says wryly, a dry smile on his lovely features.

“I don’t see how anyone could dislike you,” you say, that pink touching your cheeks again. Your words make Terzo chuckle quietly, and he rests his elbow on the table as he brings a thumb to his mouth, wrapping his lips around the tip of it as he looks at you with nearly hooded eyes.

“Do you like me?” He asks softly.

The old jukebox in the corner, its light flickering faintly, comes to life with a squeaking click as one of the worn tracks slides into place. It takes a moment for the speaker to push out the song, crackling before settling into a low static hum behind the vocals of none other than Frank Sinatra.

“I love this song,” Terzo says, looking pleasantly surprised as he stands and strides closer to the jukebox, placing his hands on the glass to peer closer at the inner workings of the old thing. You breathe a small sigh of relief, or is it disappointment, as you dodge his question.

“That thing turns on by itself all the time. Something inside must be busted,” you say, standing up to move beside him.

“Ah, not broken. Simply yearning to sing, sì?” He says, glancing over at you with an amused smile. “You know this song?”

“Frank Sinatra?”

“Molto bene, mio volpino.” Terzo takes a step back from the jukebox, a hand pressing against his chest as he tilts his head up and closes his eyes. “Over and over I keep going over the world we knew,” his voice floats effortlessly, soft and persuasive, in the space between you. “Days when you used to love me.”

You watch him sing with parted lips, your brow furrowing as you’re filled with awe, but also an ache deep in your chest. A yearning for the strange man you fear will disappear from your memory forever when you leave this diner. He opens his eyes and pins you with a stare, his smile very soft, but quirks in a way which whispers mischief. Terzo holds his hands out to you, fingers curled slightly as he tilts his head to the side. “Dance with me?” He says, his tone gently demanding. “With Papa now, sì?”

“That’s the second time you said that,” you note with a small grin, reaching out to place your hands in his. His fingers are chilled as he pulls you in, a hand naturally falling to your waist. Your breath catches, and he smiles.

“Ah, slip of the tongue,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning the blush on your features.

“Something you do often?” Your voice is a little breathless as he turns the both of you, and you look down at your feet, chewing on your bottom lip as you beg whatever deity out there to not step on his.

Terzo lets go of your hand for a moment to gently tap your chin. “Eyes up, tesoro. And as for your question…,” a wide smile crosses his face, a tiny chip in his front tooth. “I use my tongue very often.” His pink tongue wets his bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth for a moment before slowly and sensually letting go.

Your eyes widen and you giggle nervously, “You are…something.”

“Something good?” His eyes flicker with amusement before his mouth pops open in a little ‘O’ shape. “Ah, yes! You never answered my question.” He pulls back to spin you around, laughing again when you do an awkward little turn on your heel. He draws you even closer then, his hand flexing against the small of your back. “Do you like me?”

“We just met.” Your voice is small, and your eyes focus intently on the dark chest hair peeking out from his purple button-up.

“Sometimes meeting is all it takes,” he murmurs.

Your eyes find his again, and you don’t think you’re dancing anymore, but you’re still swaying - your heart, your mind. Swept up in the softness of his eyes as they look back at you with…hope. Glaring desperately from green and white depths. The vestiges of a younger, happier man. And there’s a part of you that wants to cry.

“I like you very much, Terzo Emeritus.”

His response isn’t what you expect. His head raises slightly and he peers at you with curiosity, his brow furrowing as he searches your eyes for some kind of answer to a question you aren’t privy to. You get the sense that he doesn’t believe you, that he’s waiting for the punchline to some cosmic joke. “Well!” He says finally, his face dropping back into that easy smile. He waves a hand. “I am an old man. Do you see? I moisturize but,” he clicks his tongue. “The lines, they grow. I appreciate you entertaining me, eh?”

Your brow furrows and your mouth presses into a thin line as you gaze past him with the intent to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. “You think I can’t like you because…you have wrinkles?” The word comes out slightly high pitched and confused. “Make it make sense, Mr. Emeritus.”

Terzo’s bushy eyebrows fly into his hairline and he looks vaguely disturbed. “I am not called that often…it is weird.”

“Oh, right. You’re Papa,” you wiggle your brows, and the man groans. His fingers dig into the small of your back and he pulls you closer, dipping his chin to regard you with a heated stare that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You should be careful with that, amore,” he murmurs, his voice low like the crackling of firewood, flames licking over the endearment. “I could have you saying ‘Papa’ in a more…breathless manner, hmm?”

His words alone are enough to knock the wind out of you, and he knows it, a twinkle in the man’s eyes that tells you this isn’t his first passion play. The song is long over, the jukebox having gone back to its eerie nostalgic silence, yet he turns you again, his shoes sliding along the faded linoleum floor like butter. You are, perhaps, less graceful.

“I thought you were too old?” You ask him, narrowing your eyes. Terzo looks briefly affronted, and the nearly outraged expression on his face makes you burst into giggles. He wags his finger in front of your face before placing both of his hands around your back, lacing his fingers together and drawing you forward until your hips are flush. That shuts you up very quickly.

“I know what you are doing,” he purrs. “But I can play, too.” He smiles and sighs, looking up at the cracking ceiling before returning your gaze. “And yet I see your point. But it is true, volpino. I am much, much older than you.”

“I think whether or not I’m bothered by that is my decision, don’t you?” You ask.

Terzo concedes, tilting his head a little. “In my faith, it is encouraged to follow your desires.”

“Oh, right. Your non-cult cult. How could I forget,” you tap your finger to your temple and Terzo chuckles. You smile back, wrapping your arms around his neck. A million possibilities, a million ways the night could have gone, and you got the one with Terzo. Your smile softens, your eyes taking on a tender reverence, and you can see pink dance at the edges of his cheeks. His wrinkles smooth as his face falls into almost boyish wonder while the two of you sway to nothing. No, that’s not right. You’re swaying to a music all your own.

“You have a really nice face,” you murmur, your voice coming out in a soft hush.

“You aren’t lying.” It’s said as a statement. Confusion lining his words, his eyes widen just a fraction. This isn’t the first time in the night where you wanted to just…ask him if he’s okay? Hug him. Your words appear to confound him, and a hand lets go of your waist to touch his cheek, his fingers following one of the deeper lines. “You know, in my line of work, I usually wear a full face of makeup.”

“Is this where you tell me you go by…Paprika Smear or something?” You tease, eyebrows raised.

Terzo laughs so hard, everyone in the diner, who isn’t already watching you like you’re the first interesting thing to happen in decades, are gaping now. Penny hasn’t turned the page in her National Enquirer in the last ten minutes. “No, no, no. Ah, my naughty volpino. What I am trying to say,” he clears his throat. “I do not show my face often. What you said…grazie mille. I am often not kind to myself.”

“I have no reason to lie. We just met, Terzo. This is my perception of you. My honesty. I feel like you’re looking for a different answer or…looking for deception.”

“I am looking for something real,” he says, with vulnerability in his eyes. “It has been a very long time since I have had something real.” Terzo releases your waist and removes your arms from around his neck, but he holds your hands in his. His thumbs rub circles into your skin, admiring the contrast of your hands together, and he brings them closer, cradling them near his chest.

“I can be real,” you say, turning your hands to lace your fingers through his despite his tight grip. Terzo takes a deep breath, his lower lip quivering slightly as he thinks.

“And if I told you to know me is to know Satan? If there are dangers in my life, amorino? Things your beautiful, sweet mind could perhaps not comprehend?” His voice has turned nearly desperate in his speech, pained. And yet despite his warnings, you don’t feel afraid, or concerned. There are no red flags waving over Terzo’s head. You just see someone very alone.

The shrill ring of a cell phone slices through the tension like a heated blade, and the two of you freeze for a moment before Terzo sighs, heavily, his shoulders falling like rocks have been placed on his shoulders. He gently pulls away from you, his hands lowering yours back to your sides before he’s digging into his pocket. “Sì?” He snaps into the phone, listening to the voice on the other end. “Perhaps I am not ready to come back…because I am Papa and I say so…of course I understand!” Terzo runs a hand through his hair, the strands sticking up in a few places. “You tell that stronzo he can wait…ah-but…dai!...alright, alright. I will see you soon.”

Terzo puts his phone back in his pocket, and looks at you with an apologetic smile. “It seems our dance comes to an end, eh?” You stand facing each other, and panic seizes your heart in a fist. If Terzo walks out that door, you may never see him again. It almost strikes you as odd, the way he managed to wrestle his way into your very being in your short evening here at the diner. There was no feasible way you could sit back down and go back to writing, surrounded by the same monotony while this man is somewhere in the world.

“You know,” you begin, taking a step toward him. “I’ve been really into theistic Satanism lately. Gosh, if only there was a place, or someone, that could guide me.”

Terzo stares at you with an unreadable expression, and then he takes a step forward, and places his lips against your forehead. He chuckles softly, “My evil plans worked, volpino. I am converting you.” He pulls back to wink. “You like me.”

“I already told you that-”

“Sì, sì, I am only teasing,” his smile broadens and he smooths back a strand of hair from your forehead. “This is a big thing for Papa, no? Something real.”

“You’re going to have to tell me why you keep calling yourself that,” you giggle, shaking your head. Terzo’s fingers cradle your jaw and tilt your head to meet his gaze.

“Come and find out.”

Another look is shared between the diner writer and the mysterious stranger. But this one? It’s a look of yearning. Yearning for a future that changes the both of you. That a man can learn to love himself again. That the walls of this diner will let you go. Terzo grabs his jacket and his little notebook, and you slip your hand into his pocket to grab his phone.

“Already, amore?” He says, his grin wide, and you laugh and swat him with a hand. You type your number into his phone and slip it back, but Terzo grabs your wrist. He brings your hand to his lips and gently kisses the soft skin. “I will see you soon,” he promises.

“Arrivederci, Terzo,” you sigh dreamily.

“Eh, we will work on your Italian,” the man rolls his eyes playfully.

Terzo walks toward the door of the diner, and you sit in your seat. Is it possible to change in a single evening? You don’t feel like the same person who watched this man walk in with the perfect hair and pretty accent. And you get the feeling that he isn’t the same person now either. Terzo stands in the doorway, looking back at you, and he smiles. A smile that lights up his whole face, and is really, truly…happy.

When he’s gone, you open your laptop and stare at the pages you had written earlier. With a wry smile, you shut your laptop off and gather your things. Walking to the front, you toss a few bucks on the counter.

“Gettin’ cozy with that eye-talian man, huh, honey?” Penny asks, chewing her bubble gum as she looks you up and down with the eyes of a seasoned gossip. “Be back tomorrow?”

Your phone buzzes and you glance down, grinning before taking a breath and looking back at Penny, the diner, and its forever patrons.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

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deetz-ghuleh · 2 months

Text

cw: Papa Emeritus III Terzo x gn! reader, smut, explicit language, domination, rough sex, toxic behavior

Thinking of possessive, feral Terzo who's so enamored with you that sometimes he terrifies you.

You love him desperately. So much it makes your chest ache. But he's boderline obsessive and won't let you out of his sight. Gets jealous even when his own brothers look at you.

His insatiable sexual appetite can be too much for anyone to handle, but you try, and you are so used to the fucking by now that you get wet almost involuntarily when you see him.

He fucks you anytime he has the chance - in the corners and alcoves of the abbey, the kitchen, the old library, that one secluded area in the garden, the confessional. You can't name a place in the whole church where he hasn't fucked you senseless. But somehow, he always finds a new area.

Siblings complain about the constant screaming and moaning coming from the Papal suites. They can't sleep. For a week or so, Sister Imperator had gotten involved, but the truth is that the Clergy doesn't really give a shit about what any Papa is doing behind closed doors, so it continues.

No matter how torturous his affections, you love to feel his skin against you, the warmth of his ragged voice beside your ear, the filthy praises he loves to use, and his constant need for domination and control.

"You'd never leave me right, amore mio? Even if I'm not- hmph - fucking perfect? You're all mine-fuck-all mine..." He asks as he thrusts into you so deep from behind that you feel your heart will burst. Only thing you can do is nonsensically babble in between gasps and shake your head. How you swallow his pain is almost addicting. You wonder if he feels your own just as intensely.

He feels guilty sometimes if he's been too rough with you and shows little gestures - showering you with gifts, bringing you food, singing your favorite songs.

He promises he'll give you a break, that he just can't help himself around you.

But that same night, he's biting your neck and pinning your wrists above your head as he fills you again so deliciously.

#ghost band #the band ghost #ghost band fanfic #ghost fanfic #papa emeritus iii #papa terzo fanfiction #papa terzo #terzo x reader #terzo emeritus #terzo fanfiction #terzo smut #papa emeritus 3 #papa iii #ghost band smut #papa emeritus iii smut #dom terzo #possessive terzo #my writings #drabbles

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ghulehunknown · 6 months

Text

Papa Headcanons! 💋🫂

Day 13 of KINKTOBER is here! 🎃

**RATED PG-13, borderline NSFW**

My headcanons of making out and cuddling with the Papas

Primo

Talks very sweetly; lots of cute but old-fashioned pet names

Lets you rest your head on his chest

Doesn’t use tongue unless you initiate

Big spoon, holds you gently

Serene for the most part, but abruptly interrupted by his coughing fits ):

Always falls asleep before you, usually mid-kiss or mid-cuddle

Secondo

Holds your head very firmly in his hands while kissing you

Slips in tongue

Plants kisses on your neck

Takes control but wants to be on the bottom while cuddling so you’re laying on his chest otherwise he’s big spoon

Holds you protectively, rubs your back soothingly and runs his hands through your hair

Gives massages

Terzo

Sticks his tongue down your throat and goes straight to your pants but complies when you ask just for kisses and cuddles

Presses his body against yours

You can always feel his erection through his pants, purposefully on his part

Kisses like he hasn’t seen you in years

His phone keeps going off

He doesn’t care if he’s big or little spoon

Leaves hickeys and bite marks

Cardinal Copia

Nervous and sweaty

His mustache tickles your face

You can always feel his erection through his pants, accidentally on his part

Usually one of his rats will crawl on you if you stay still too long while cuddling

Wraps all his limbs around you while snuggling as if he’s afraid you’ll fall off the bed or escape

Likes to be little spoon

Popia

Starts with a sweet little peck on your cheek

Usually ends with his hands around your waist and feeling you up, but it’s a slow build up to that

Holds your chin in his hand and kisses your nose

Tells you what his every next move is so you know what to expect

Tells you about his day/asks you about yours

Adjusts his position if he senses you are uncomfy or smushed

Nihil (for shits and giggles)

Sneezes and sharts himself

You run away because it smells

#the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band smut #papa emeritus x reader #ghost band fanfic #copia is my husband #papa emeritus iv #terzo #copia emeritus #kinktober 2023 #papa emeritus smut #papa emertius #terzo x reader #primo x reader #secondo smut #terzo fanfiction #secondo x reader #cardinal copia x reader #copia x reader

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writingjourney · 1 year

Text

soft, sleepy sex with the papas

summary: Four short-ish scenarios, one for each Papa, in which you get to do some crossword-solving with Primo, come home after a night-out with Secondo, wake up with Terzo or watch a movie with Copia.

content: 4.8k words in total (each is 1k-1.4k words), f!readers, sort of established relationships, dom/sub undertones if you squint, obviously these contain smut, more detailed warnings in each part, 18+ MDNI

Masterlist – Ao3 link

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Primo

content: p in v because peepaw can still get it

Half-asleep on Primo’s bare chest, you draw lazy patterns into the fuzzy hair on his left pec, your palm resting just above his steady heartbeat. He keeps one arm wrapped around your shoulder, holding a weathered little book that is open on a half-done crossword puzzle, while his other hand slowly fills in the empty squares. It’s Italian, so you gave up trying to help him a while ago, dozing to the sound of graphite scratching on paper.

But you know you won’t sleep yet. There is a gentle but very persistent simmer in the pit of your stomach. You’ve wanted your Papa all day but when he got home earlier, tired and irritable after an argument with Sister, you hadn’t wanted to bring it up. Now, after a light dinner and some restful time with you curled up against him, he seems a lot calmer.

Inhaling his slightly herbal scent, you decide to at least try – he’s going to let you know if he’s not up for it. A kiss to his wrinkly neck and your fingers start trailing from his chest down to his belly. Slow circles with your index and middle finger, caressing the saggy skin with as much affection as you can pour into such a delicate touch.

You feel him stir, so you move your hand further down, stroking his abdomen. A soft hum deep inside his chest. His hand sinks, the pencil slipping from his fingers. It’s your cue to keep going, so you toy with the hem of his pajama pants. When you let your hand slip beneath the elastic, you’re excited to find him half-hard, curved against the left side of his pelvis.

He’d been struggling with intimacy as of late – his age, all the hard work and general worries catching up with him, a sort of vicious cycle that led to some changes in your shared bedroom. He takes care of you in other ways, very generously, but tonight, for once, he seems truly relaxed, and you feel him slowly harden against your palm.

“Do you feel good?” you whisper. “Should I keep going?”

“Mhm.”

You stamp wet kisses down his neck, sucking on the spot that always makes him shudder. You continue to slowly stroke him, a leisurely pace, until he’s fully hard and leaking onto your fingers.

“I thought you are tired,” he murmurs.

You smile. “I am, but I just miss you so much.”

“I’m right here, la mia rosa. Every night.”

More kisses. You softly suck on the spot below his jaw, and his hips buck up into your touch. “You know what I mean, Papa.”

Primo draws a sharp breath, the arm he had wrapped around you slowly uncurling as he throws the book across the bed. His hand moves to your ass, a tight squeeze and he urges you to move closer. You crawl on top of him, hot, liquid excitement flowing through your veins at the prospect of finally having him inside of you again.

With one hand, you prop yourself up on his chest while you move your sleeping shorts out of the way with the other. You settle on his cock, rubbing your wet folds over his length and slicking it with your arousal. You grind on him a few times and you both gasp at the feeling. His hands fly to your hips, sharp fingernails digging deeper into your flesh when you finally place him at your entrance. He slips inside, the stretch immensely rewarding after going without it for so long, and despite the sleepiness still clinging to you, you try your best to move on him. Limited energy has you resting your upper body on his, chest against chest, only separated by your shirt. You lean in for a kiss as you slowly roll your hips. The pace you’re setting with your mouth as well as your body is slow, almost sluggish, but even so you can feel the ripples of pleasure all over your body.

“Amore?” Primo whispers against your lips and you hum into his mouth. “I missed you, too.”

And then he’s suddenly thrusting up into you. You moan against his tongue and he does it again, chuckling as you keen and cling to the headboard. A shudder tears through your whole body and your mouth slips from his, your face slotting against his neck instead when he gives another thrust.

Primo wraps his arms around you in a hug. “You’re tired, let me do the rest.”

You want to protest, remind him of his back issues and the pain he’d felt in his hip joint all week, but he’s already rolling you over. He knows you wouldn’t have been able to cum from your slow movements alone and he also knows you wouldn’t have minded, but he always tells you that making you cum is the highest form of worship for him. And Primo loves to worship.

As soon as he’s on top of you he shifts into position, propped up on his elbows on either side of you pushing back into your dripping entrance very slowly. You hold him steady, arms wrapped around his shoulder to try and keep him for overexerting himself. His rhythm isn’t much faster than yours, but his movements are more deliberate – precise thrusts hitting you exactly where you need him. Already you clench around him, moaning as more pleasure pools into your lower belly.

Primo is breathing heavily and the frequency of his pants tells you he’s close.

“Touch yourself for your Papa, amore,” he whispers.

You move your hands between your bodies and start to rub your clit. It doesn’t take much until you completely let go. You come almost simultaneously, moaning into each others skin as your bodies tremble with pleasure. You can feel his hot seed dripping out of you when he shifts, a sharp hiss as you eventually untangle your limbs.

Primo slowly, carefully, rolls off of you, sinking back into his pillow with a low, pained hmpf. You lean over and open your mouth to ask if he’s okay but he’s already waving his hand to stop you, a delighted sigh leaving his lips as his body relaxes. You snuggle back into him, kissing the hot, sweaty skin on his cheek. This has exhausted him but the blissful expression on his usually so grim face tells you he won’t regret it no matter how much his joints are going to hurt tomorrow.

“I love you, la mia rosa,” he mumbles into your hair. “Thank you for reminding your Papa that you still desire him so.”

“Hm, I love you, too,” you mumble, already drifting off.

The last thing you hear is his chuckle and the click of the switch as he turns off the light.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Secondo

content: biting, praise, v fingering, p in v sex, dom/sub undertones if you squint

The smell of smoke, sweat and liquor still lingers in your nose, now accompanied by the sweet and woody scent of Secondo’s sandalwood shower gel. The club had been packed, despite it’s exclusivity, and after a night of dancing and being pushed around by other bodies, you’re ready to fall asleep with his heavy arms draped around you. After all of the noise and the heavy, blasting music, you welcome the soft quiet of his bedroom, the dull buzzing of his toothbrush and your own even breathing the only sounds in your ears.

When Secondo exits the bathroom, the open door casts a narrow ray of fluorescent light onto your half-sleeping form. He quickly flips the switch and closes the door as quietly as he can. In the near-dark, he observes the silhouette of your body, all the curves and lines and edges he’s grown to love so much. You haven’t been sleeping in this bed for very long – it’s only been a few weeks since he decided he won’t let you leave again. Now, as he sheds his bathrobe and crawls under the silky sheets to join you, he thinks that it was probably the best decision of his life.

You can feel his naked body settling against your back, the warmth of his soft skin drawing a sigh from your lips. His strong arm wraps around you, pushing under your armpit to press flat against your front, pulling you even closer. As his hand moves to gently cup your breast, you can feel a tired exhale against your neck.

“As much as I love going out with you,” he murmurs. “This is my favorite.”

His lips softly press to the velvet skin below your ear. A few slow but needy kisses leave a wet trail all over your neck, his hand squeezing your breast in tandem with each one.

“You looked so beautiful tonight, amore.” Another kiss, this time to the back of your neck, and a shiver rolls down your spine. “Everyone in the club envied me.”

You chuckle softly, tilting your head to the side to grant him more space. “I’m pretty sure they were staring at you, my love.”

“Ah, che sciocchezza!” His lips attach to your skin, sucking gently at first, then with more force. You indulge him, the stinging sensation barely registering with your exhaustion as he bites into your flesh. He keeps busy there until you whimper at the burning sensation.

But Secondo knows he is right and it’s the reason why you have this big purple bruise blossoming on your neck right now. He is nothing but attentive, observant, and it gives him great confidence to watch other people admire you, then flinch away when they notice that you’re with him. He loves to subtly show you off – until someone actually tries to chat you up like today. It’s always the same, a sudden surge of need to show everyone that you’re his and he’s all over you, the public setting quickly forgotten. Secondo almost fucked you right there on the dance floor, not unprecedented, but after someone repeatedly rammed their elbow into his side he decided that it was too busy tonight.

But it’s okay because by now the high wore off, leaving him only mildly horny and mostly sleepy just like you. He thinks he wants to be gentle now, slowly fuck you both to sleep.

His lips come off your neck with a wet pop. He pushes his other arm underneath you, fingers searching the heat between your legs, but when he lets his hand slide down your middle, he’s met with the fabric of your panties.

“Ah.” He tsks softly into your ear, pulling them down slightly. “Since when do we wear clothes to bed, eh?”

You groan tiredly but don’t object, lifting your leg to help him remove the piece of fabric. Soft fingers slide between your legs now, pressing against your mound. He’s tentative, sensual, wet lips running over your neck and up to your ear.

“Will you let me have you, amore?” he whispers. “You know your Papa wanted you all night.”

You wake up your voice with a soft hum. “Yes, Papa.”

“You’re so good for me, always so good.”

More kisses, this time to the shell of your ear, your earlobe, your cheek. You smell his minty toothpaste and turn your head for a proper kiss. His free hand moves to cradle your jaw, thumb pressing into your neck to adjust the angle. The kiss is languid just like his fingers working on your clit now. A soft whine escapes you and his tongue sweeps inside to meet yours in a gentle greeting. Your mind gets hazy with his taste, the soft ripples of pleasure in your core, his now hard cock pressing into your back. You want him, need him, and so you wriggle, pushing your ass into his groin. He accommodates you by sliding two fingers into your wet entrance, increasing the pressure.

“Secondo, please,” you whimper.

“Ah.” He stops altogether, pulling back to look at you with intense mismatched eyes. “Being tired is no excuse for misbehaving.”

“I’m sorry, Papa. Please.”

“Mhm.” His movements resume. “Brava ragazza. So tired and still you beg for your Papa’s cock.”

Your head falls back into the pillows as Secondo shifts, removing his hands to adjust your hips, slotting them together. His cock slips between your legs then and you moan softly when you feel it slide right against your folds. He slowly pushes in, using his free hand on your belly to keep you pressed tightly to his chest, the other one lifting your leg up just enough so he can move inside of you. The stretch is beautifully slow, his mouth back on your ear now, and you reach over to scratch the back of his neck.

He hums at your loving caress, a low rumble that gives you butterflies, and then he pulls back, pushing back in deeper. You close your eyes and revel in the gentle rhythm he sets. For a while, all you hear are your soft gasps, his low moans right by your ear and the sound of his skin meeting yours. Your orgasm builds slowly but you can both feel it approaching, Secondo spreading out his fingers on your abdomen until he can reach your clit again. He speeds up just slightly, squelching noises filling your ears whenever his cock slides in to hit that sensitive spot deep inside of you. His own breaths are ragged now but he’s holding back until he gets you there first, always.

“Come for your Papa,” he whispers against your ear with surprising softness. “Be good for me and come on Papa’s cock.”

You do, clenching around him as his words send you over the edge with a voiceless cry. He joins you, growling, hips stuttering into yours a few more times as he draws out both of your highs. Your exhausted body goes limp, only shuddering again when he eventually pulls out.

A soft exhale as he wraps you up in his arms, his sweaty chest warm against your back. You vaguely feel his thumb caressing your arm, the gentle pattern lulling you to sleep. Neither of you is going to move again before the sun rises and the birdsong inevitably wakes you.

“Sleep well, amore,” Secondo whispers, kissing the purple bruise on your neck one more time.

You sigh deeply, weaving your fingers through his, and slowly drift off.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Terzo

content: cunnilingus, v fingering, mentions of mental health issues

A tickle at your neck. You stir and scrunch up your face, shifting onto your side to get away. It’s adorable, Terzo thinks, so he does it again, a featherlight kiss just below your ear. You twitch slightly once more, the duvet slipping from your shoulder and revealing your bare upper body to him. Half-hovering above you, it’s easy to press yet another kiss to your neck and watch your irritated pout, eyebrows pulled tightly together. Your hand flexes then, and he’s almost sure you’re going to swat him away like a fly but your fingers uncurl after a second, smoothing out on the mattress.

Waking up with you in his bed makes him unnecessarily giddy, weightless in a way he hasn’t felt in years. And after looking at your peaceful form for a moment longer he decides that he needs your attention more than you need your sleep. So the next kiss is harder. He finds an almost faded hickey right below your jaw, licking over the skin he traps between his lips and sucking with more fervour.

You give a soft groan that vibrates against his mouth. “Terzo, ’m still sleeping.”

He breaks away with a loud smacking sound, then boops your shoulder with his nose. “No, you’re not.”

“But I’m still tired,” you whine, burying your face deeper into the pillow.

“Aww,” he cooes. “Too tired for your Papa?”

You hum sleepily, your brain not yet fully awake. Terzo won’t let you off the hook. He wraps an arm around your middle, pulling you into his warm body. Looking down with your blurry gaze, you notice a tendon in his arm twitching as he slots his pelvis against yours. You can feel him rock hard against your ass now, poking into the supple flesh of your butt cheek. So this is why he woke you up early on a Sunday morning and not to get you croissants and coffee.

“I am shocked,” he says. “Offended. Mortally wounded.”

“Mhm, Terzo…”

“You know, you’ve been wriggling against me in your sleep,” he interrupts your complaint. “I bet I’d find you already wet for me, dolce. Tell me, did you dream about your Papa?”

Shifting your legs, you realise that he’s right. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’d really been dreaming about him just before he woke you. For the past month, he’s been occupying your every thought, every fading dream, every waking moment. What you thought would be a one time thing turned into a two and three and many more times thing, late night McDonald’s runs, hour-long phone conversations when he can’t sleep after his anxiety attacks, countless lunch dates just to have one extra daily hour in each other’s company… and now actually sleeping together, staying the night. This is uncharted territory but as your mind slowly regains its grasp on reality, you’re more than ready to explore what it means.

“I must have,” you admit. “I often do.”

“Oh, really?” His lips trail from your shoulder back to your neck, his voice a low whisper against your ear. “Well, I dream about you too, my little dormiglione, every night.”

You feel your circulation coming to live, heat rushing into your cheeks and between your legs. “Really?”

“Mhm. Do you want to know what my favorite dream is?”

You fight the urge to rub your crusty eyes. “Yes.”

His grasp on you loosens and he turns you onto your back, gently cradling your face. You don’t feel self-conscious about your sleepy, unkempt state for more than a second because there is nothing but pure affection in his mismatched gaze.

“I will show you, amore,” he promises. “A little demonstration is just what we need to wake you up, sì?”

His words register only after he’s kissing down your neck. With an insistent mouth, he latches onto your breast, sighing when he feels the soft flesh against his face. You bury your fingers in his raven hair, gently scratching his scalp, and he moans lowly against your skin. The vibration has you arching into his touch and his eyes snap up at you. They never leave yours as he scoots further down the bed, leaving a wet trail of kisses all over your belly.

Terzo settles between your legs, spreading them just enough to nuzzle one of your inner thighs. Unshaved, his cheeks feel scratchy against your skin and he rubs them against you a few more times with an almost boyish smile. He’s beautiful, even more so in his unkempt state, stubbly jaw, messy hair, eyes still a little puffy. For once he is not tense, not on guard, and you can’t help but reach out and brush a stray piece of hair out of his face. You look at each other in shared vulnerability and for a moment, he leans into your touch, a tender, loving expression softening his features. But then his eyes glint with mischief as he grins and stuffs his face right into your pussy.

You keen, arching your back. His nose is pressed against your clit, tongue pushing into your entrance, and your hips buck involuntarily. You can’t help but moan – loudly, desperately – and he pulls away with a chuckle.

“Ahhh, there you are. Good morning, sunshine. Not so tired anymore now, eh?” All you can do is whimper at the loss of his touch and his lips curl into a satisfied grin. “Per favore, will you let your Papa have his breakfast now? You know I have a sweet tooth.”

You nod, teeth digging into your bottom lip in anticipation. His face is glistening with your arousal and his eyes narrow just slightly.

“Words, dolce.”

“Yes,” you croak, throat still scratchy. “Please, Papa.”

He chuckles again, moving his hands up your thighs to open them wider before he brings one to your abdomen, the other slowly spreading your folds for him. “So wet, dolce. Your dreams must be even more exciting than mine.”

Words have long since escaped you. Just watching him so readily offer you pleasure is enough to make you light-headed. He licks a broad stripe up from your entrance to your clit where he stays, sucking gingerly at first before he hungrily starts to devour you.

Your eyes flutter close again but not from sleepiness this time.

“Eyes on me,” he demands immediately. “We don’t want you falling back asleep, yes?”

There is no danger of that, your body is burning, muscles clenching with the little energy you have, but you still follow his order. His eyes are on yours as he breaks away, creating space to push one and then two fingers into your waiting hole. You tighten around him with a moan, your whole lower body pulsating with need. A wicked grin and he rubs his fingers against your inner wall, looking for the spot that makes your toes curls. By now, he’s practiced, so in tune with your body that the firm, constant pressure brings you close very fast. When he sees your shudder, his mouth is back on your clit, sucking, licking, humming until you clench around his digits, hips bucking into his face as you ride out your climax.

You only notice how tightly you’ve been gripping the sheets when Terzo crawls back up to you, gently taking your hand in his. He kisses each of your aching knuckles before he uses your hand as an extension to his, cleaning up his messy face and sucking your fingers into his mouth with such tender care that it makes you smile, your heart almost bursting with love for him.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he says.

“Terzo, I haven’t brushed my–”

His mouth collides with yours, tongue dipping into your mouth hungrily. You taste yourself on him but there is barely any time to take it in, your brain still hazy and clouded from your high. When he breaks away, he gives you a pointed look. “Do I look like I care?”

You softly shake your head and wrap your arms around his back, keeping him close. Fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck, your breathing slowly evens.

“I love waking up with you,” you mumble with a smile. “Not just because of this. If you let me, I want you to be the first thing I see every day for the rest of my life.”

“If I let you?” His eyes soften and he gives an almost pained smile, struggling to accept the truth behind your words. But then he huffs out an exhale, pushing his hip back against you. “Amore, do you honestly think I will ever allow you to leave this bed again?”

With his painfully hard and leaking cock pressed against your thigh, the answer to his question is quite clear. You mentally say goodbye to breakfast. There are far more inviting things to sustain you than food.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Copia

content: soft!dom copia just bc I can, praise kink, thigh riding, v fingering, gloves

A murmur right by your ear. “I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.” A short pause. “Chianti.”

You’re about to fall asleep on Copia’s tiny bed, dim candlelight and his warmth surrounding you. The Silence of the Lambs is running in the background on a grainy VHS tape, Copia mumbling most of the dialogue to himself, practically lulling you to sleep. You’re half on top of him, legs intertwined, a mess of tangled red limbs in matching sweatpants. He knows you aren’t paying any attention to the movie with the way your nose evenly exhales against his windpipe, but after the long day you had that’s no surprise.

His arms automatically close around you, squeezing your tired body closer to his. The shift pushes his knee further between your legs and you feel a slight pressure against your clit. Copia continues to mumble but your focus shifts to the burning sensation in your core. His thigh is firm against your pussy and you tentatively move your hips a little. It’s innocent enough at first, a wriggle to get more comfortable. Copia presses a kiss to your hair, a searching hand finding your waist for a comforting squeeze.

It only serves to make you more restless. You roll your hips, desperate for more friction. He catches on by the third time you do it, the hand on your side sliding down, fingers spreading over your hip as he pulls you in closer. You continue to grind on his thigh, slow but steady, soft moans tumbling from your lips. After a few seconds he starts to massage you through the fabric of your sweatpants, pulling you forward so you slide over his leg even harder. You keen and grab at his t-shirt right above his chest, scrunching up the fabric. The pressure feels too good, shivers running down your spine and into your core.

“So needy,” Copia whispers on his next exhale, tickling the skin just below your ear. “Your Papa loves it when you use him to get off, tesoro. When you make a mess all over his thigh.”

You whimper again, louder, higher, too exhausted to move as fast as you’d need to find some actual relief. His hand slides under the elastic of your pants, warm black leather against soft, delicate skin, and he gives an encouraging squeeze.

“Do you want me to help you, topolina?” he asks, voice low and deep.

“Mhm.”

“You have to ask, my baby,” he reminds you. “I want to hear it.”

“Please, Papa, help me.”

“Tell me what you need from me.”

“I n-need your fingers, Papa. Please.”

Soft lips brush your temple. “Hm, so good for me. But you sound tired, amore, are you sure you can take it?”

Your voice comes out in a strangled whine. “Yes, Papa. Please.”

He stops your movements, and you wail in disappointment as he pulls his leg away from you, a dark red patch staining the red cotton. But his hands quickly find your hip again, rubbing soothing circles into your skin as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t worry, amore,” he says, pushing the hem down to your knees. “Your Papa is going to take care of you.”

His fingertips dance up your thigh and move straight between your legs, probing at your entrance. Rubbing along your folds, he spreads out your arousal all over the black leather. Copia hums when he feels how ready you are for him, pushing two fingers inside of you with ease. You moan at the stretch, clenching around his digits as he curls them inside of you.

“Hm, you like that, amore?”

You hum, pressing your hot forehead against his neck. He slowly starts to move, an almost languid pace but his thrusts are deliberate, hitting you right every time. Rippling waves of pleasure run all over your body and leave a trail of goosebumps. You’re getting close, shifting, wriggling. The wet noises of his hand moving against you drown out the sounds of the movie. With your last remaining effort, you move your hips, joining his rhythm.

Copia hums in approval. “Hmm, yes, use my hand, make yourself come, topolina.”

You cry out as you clench tightly around his fingers, the sound muffled by his sweaty skin against your lips. He can feel you shuddering against him, and you slowly turn into a panting, whimpering mess in his arms. With a few last curls of his fingers, he carries you through your orgasm, smiling at every little tremor he can coax out of you.

“Hmmm, so good for your Papa.” More wet kisses to your face. “You did so well, amore.”

You come to, smiling softly at his praise as the room around you becomes clearer. You notice the lights of the tv flickering off the walls. Buffalo Bill probably just murdered someone, but Copia must have turned down the sound because all you can hear is his slightly increased heartbeat when you settle on his chest. He pulls up your sweatpants and continues to hold you against him, kissing your hair so softly you can barely even feel it. Your body starts to feel heavier, drowsiness taking over now that you’re sated. You close your eyes and let the lingering feeling of bliss carry you into a peaceful slumber.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

if anyone skipped over primo I am going to find you and haunt you forever.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Any sort of interaction or feedback is as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlist – My Ao3

1K notes · View notes

ramblingoak · 5 months

Note

Hello! I apologize if you don’t take requests btw but if you do , do you think you can write head cannons of what the papas would do for their s/o with Covid when you can? <3(I totally didn’t js find out that I had Covid 😀) again super sorry if u don’t take requests!🖤

Hey! I hope you are feeling much much better. Apologies this took a bit to finish. I ended up getting Covid last week myself so clearly karma got me for taking too long xD. This did end up being more for readers that are just kind of sick in general but I hope you still enjoy the little drabble I did for each Papa 💙

Warnings: short and sweet, pretty fluffy and fairly silly, there are some suggestive comments but these are mostly sfw, readers are all gender neutral, not beta read so pls ignore any mistakes

Mayo Rub ~ Primo x GN!Reader

“Are you going to be grumpy about this the whole time I’m sick?” Primo scoffed and continued to aggressively turn the pages in his gardening magazine. “Well?”

“You are mistaken, I’m not grumpy about anything.”

“Then why are you pouting over pictures of tulips?”

“They’re not tuli–” Primo stopped abruptly, roughly closing his magazine and getting up from the couch. When he glanced over your way you raised an eyebrow at him. “They’re lilies.”

“Fine, lilies.” You took a moment to cough into your elbow, knowing that he was now frowning because it had been getting progressively worse as the day had worn on. “But you admit that you’re pouting.”

“Why must you be so difficult?” When you couldn’t answer right away due to another coughing fit he wandered over to the bed, wringing his hands with worry. “Fogliolina, I’m only trying to help.”

He was ready with your bottle of water when you were able to look up, meeting his concerned gaze sheepishly. With a shrug you took the bottle from him, taking a deep drink to try and soothe your throat before attempting to answer.

“The store bought stuff is working fine.” You ignored his muttered ‘clearly’ and pressed on, “Look I just don’t buy into the…you know.” Primo raised his eyebrow as you wiggled the fingers of one hand in his direction. “Plant magic.”

“It’s not magic, my little leaf.” The unspoken ‘idiota’ hung between you but you decided to be gracious and ignore it. “They are natural remedies that have been used for hundreds, no, thousands of years!”

“Fine. If I let you work some of your plant magic will you stop pouting?”

“It’s not–” He took a deep breath, blowing it slowly out through his nose before continuing. “SÍ, I will stop pouting.”

“Alright then, have at it.” Primo gave you a pleased smile before leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead. He was frowning when he pulled away, bringing his hand up to press against the warm skin his lips just touched. When he muttered something under his breath in Italian and turned away you grabbed at the sleeve of his sweater and tugged him back. “Fogliolina?”

“Just promise not to rub mayonnaise or whatever on my chest.”

“Che cazzo? Why wou–nevermind.”

You had to bite your lip to stop from laughing at the impressively annoyed look on his face. He took a deep breath before shooting you a look that usually either predicated a lecture or him demanding you remove your clothes. Unfortunately you knew that right now it meant the former. You decided to go easy on the man that was about to work his…whatever on you.

“I love you Primo.”

“As you should.” The both of you shared a smile before he clapped his hands together and turned back to head out the bedroom door. “Sit tight fogliolina, I’ll be back with the mayonnaise in just a few moments.”

Your laughter quickly brought on another coughing fit but you waved him away when he looked back at you.

“Go! Get your potions old man, I’ll still be here.”

“I’m going to make sure of it, my little leaf, don’t you worry.”

Secret Ingredient ~ Secondo x GN!Reader

“Is it salt?”

You hid your face in the neck of the sweater you had borrowed. The fabric was soft and warm, with the bonus of smelling like the man it belonged to. Secondo let out an aggrieved sigh from where he was standing over the stove before turning around with an eyebrow raised.

“Salt? Really?”

“Fancy salt?”

“SÌ, the secret ingredient of the chicken noodle soup recipe passed down through my mother’s family for generations is fancy salt.” He gave you a little smile when he caught you pouting. “Would you like a taste, dolcezza?”

“Yes, please.”

Secondo got a spoonful and blew on it as he walked over to the kitchen table. He held it to your lips with great care, watching the expression on your face change as you tasted it. When you gave him a pleased smile he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“You feel a little warm again, would you like to lay down?”

“No, no I’m fine. I want to stay out here with you.” That earned you another kiss before he turned and went back to the stove. You licked the taste of the soup off your lips before taking another guess. “Rosemary?”

“That’s not much of a secret, dolcezza.”

“Parsley?”

“Parsley is a necessity, certainly not l’ingrediente segreto.”

“Ok fine, how about Primo’s parsley?”

Secondo chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled two bowls from a cupboard and started to fill them with the soup he’d labored over almost all afternoon. You had been stuck between desperately wanting him close because you felt bad but also not wanting him to get sick. When you’d tried to explain this he had gone on about some nonsense of the Emeritus line having strong constitutions and rarely becoming ill. Whatever. You’d remember his speech the next time he was whining over a cold.

“All of the ingredients are from Primo’s gardens, as you know.”

He set your bowl down in front of you before taking a seat himself. You let yourself get distracted for a bit looking at his exposed forearms. It was one of the reasons you enjoyed watching him cook. He’d roll up his sleeves and you’d get to daydream about his arms while he worked. Your eyes finally looked up from staring at the dark hair covering his skin to find him smirking at you.

“Get over yourself.” He knocked his foot against yours under the table and you flashed him a smile before bringing a spoonful to your lips. Like most everything he made it tasted amazing. You let out a delighted little hum before taking another guess. “Basil?”

“Again, not a secret.”

You frowned down at your bowl as you tried to think of what was so damn secret about his soup. He had even refused to tell Copia earlier when he’d come by asking for the recipe. It had to be something extremely uncommon for him to be so weird about it. But he always got a little weird when he was making you something special, especially if it was an old recipe of his mother’s. Secondo always took such great care when he recreated them, like he was pouring his love for his mother into them as he worked…oh. You reached across the table and laid a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently when he looked at you.

“I love you too, Secondo.”

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?” When he didn’t elaborate you pulled your hand away and crossed your arms over your chest. “The secret ingredient. It’s love.”

“Love isn’t an ingredient.”

“Yes it is.”

“No dolcezza, it isn’t.”

“I bet your mother would agree with me.”

Secondo snorted, rolling his eyes as he moved his chair closer to yours. It was close enough he could wrap an arm around your shoulders and tuck you close to his side. After placing a few kisses into your hair he pulled away and cupped your cheek.

“I have no doubt that if my mother was still here you and her would run circles around me.”

“Just admit it. I promise I won’t tell anyone.” When he didn’t say anything you grinned, his silence was all the confirmation you needed. “It’s love.”

“It’s paprika.”

Satan Magic ~ Terzo x GN!Reader

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Terzo groaned, muttering under his breath as he pulled you closer to his chest.

“This is my church I can be wherever I want.”

“Oh your church, huh?” You dug an elbow into his gut, grinning when he swore in Italian. “Besides, you know what I mean.”

“SÌ, sÌ. I know.” He shoved a leg in between yours and rubbed his cold foot along your skin, holding you tighter when you tried to wiggle away. “Ai! Quit it, I'm trying to help.”

“How are your freakishly cold feet supposed to help me?”

“You have to warm them up first.”

“Satan’s dick, Terzo.” A fit of coughing came over you then and you tried to ignore how nice it was to have Terzo’s hand rubbing your back as your body shook. It took you a moment to catch your breath and you sniffled as you shamelessly pressed back against his warm chest. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“How many times must I say this? I don’t get sick.”

“I seem to remember a few days last year that you were definitely sick and whining in this bed just like me.”

“Those were allergies and completely different.”

“Whatever you say Papa.”

His chest vibrated against your back when he groaned.

“Don’t talk like that right now, it’s not fair.” You giggled as you pushed back against him, trying to get as close as possible. He was so warm, it was exactly what you needed right now. Terzo tightened his arms around your waist for a moment before pressing his lips against your ear. “Would you like to hear a secret?”

“Always.”

“It’s because I’m a Papa that I don’t get sick.”

You frowned, turning your head to the side to look at him as best you could.

“What?”

“My family line has been blessed by Lucifer himself. It is not often that an Emeritus falls ill.”

“But he’ll let you suffer through allerg–hey!”

He got another elbow in the gut after he pinched your hip and you both wrestled a bit under the blankets. Terzo managed to turn you so that your chests were pressed together and you took advantage of the new position to tuck your face into his neck. Your nose was severely stuffed up but you could still smell his cologne and it was so good you let your body go limp in his arms.

“Don’t worry about me, eh? I want to be close to you, to take care of you.”

“Alright, fine. I just hope your Satan magic protects you from this.”

Terzo snorted and started to card his fingers through your hair. It didn’t take long before the soothing movement helped you begin to drift off. You felt his lips against your temple and you smiled, opening your eyes to meet his gaze.

It was unfortunate that it was the exact moment he sneezed into your face.

Stolen Soup ~ Copia x GN!Reader

Copia always got a little anxious when you were sick.

It was part hating that you felt bad at all and also part him not wanting to catch what you had. He hated getting sick and was always the worst patient. In contrast you generally preferred to be left alone. All you wanted to do was sleep and unfortunately you just found yourself getting irritated when Copia kept bugging you.

“Copia I’m fine! I just want to sleep.” Oh here we go, the pout. You groaned, rolling your eyes as you fell back onto the pillows. “You’ve got better things to do anyway.”

“The only thing I need to do right now is take care of you.” He had that stubborn look on his face, the one he gave Imperator when it was time to ask for a bigger costume budget. “Amore, please? Let me make sure you’re going to be alright. Would you do this for your Papa?”

You could never win in a battle against that dopey look on his face so you just huffed and nodded your head. His dazzling smile would be worth listening to him gloat later when he claimed it was only through his care you survived at all. Copia began to hum to himself as he grabbed the big tote bag he came in with, quickly pulling things out and setting them at the foot of the bed.

“What’s all this?”

“Ah, well I stopped by Primo’s for some salve to rub on your chest,” You snorted when he wiggled his eyebrows at you. “He also gave me some tea that will help your throat. Secondo had some of his homemade soup in his fridge so I brought that as well.”

“Does Secondo know you took his soup?”

“I left a note, he’ll get over it.”

There was definitely no way Secondo would get over it but you decided to let it go. When Copia started pulling some books out you sat up again and reached out for one.

“I don’t think I have the energy to read right now.” You ran your fingers over the worn cover of the book, flipping it open and seeing a short passage written in Italian on the first page. “What does this say?”

“It’s a note to Terzo.” Copia walked around the bed and gently took the book from you. “From his mother.”

“Oh, Copia, maybe you should take it back. I don't want anything to happen to it.”

“No no, this is what the book is for. Sick days.” He gave you a warm smile, leaning forward and kissing your forehead. He was frowning when he pulled away, muttering something about taking your temperature. “Terzo’s mother read this to him when he was a child and then Terzo used to read this to me.”

“So now it’s my turn?”

He looked over at you with a fond smile, his hands full of remedies and stolen soup.

“Si amore, now it’s your turn.”

My Masterlist

My Archive of Our Own

Thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers and @foxybouquet with the Italian help 💙

#my fics #my writing #the band ghost headcanons #copia x reader #terzo x reader #secondo x reader #primo x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #copia fanfiction #terzo fanfiction #ghost band fanfiction #ghost band fanfics #copia headcanons

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marrieart · 4 months

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Undress him game part 3

#the band ghost #ghostbc #ghost terzo #terzo emeritus #papa emeritus the third #terzo #cardinal terzo #terzo my beloved #terzo fanfiction #terzo fanart #terzo x reader #papa terzo #terzo smut #papa emeritus fanart #papa emeritus lll #papa emeritus iii #papa papaiii papaemeritusiii thebandghost ghostbc ghost papaiv namelessghouls tobiasforge papaemeritusii froqueyourself

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kissingghouls · 8 days

Text

LET'S TALK ABOUT THE PRINCE

A LITTLE PREVIEW AND TAG LIST UPDATE.

💜 Hello beloveds, how are you? It's been a very long time since you've heard from our crop-top wearing himbo vampire, but I am happy to say you won't be waiting much longer.

💜 If you would like to join the new tag list for part five please leave a comment below.

💜 Catch up with The Prince on ao3 or on tumblr - One // Two // Three // Four (18+, MDNI)

💜Or if you wanna start from the beginning check out The Count (vampire!Copia) and The King (vampire!Secondo) (18+, MDNI)

💜 Thank you all so SO much for all your support and encouragement over the last year. I love you all ✨🦇

Below is a little taste of The Prince - Part Five. Beware of spoilers!

“Did you sleep well, piccolina?”

Primo’s deep voice carried from the far side of the kitchen barely audible over the rumble of thunder outside. It was somewhere between morning and afternoon, though the storm made it difficult to tell one from the other. Heavy rain pelted the outside of the cottage in a steady thrum in time with the howling winds. You used to find this type of scene so comforting but watching water bead and trail down the windows just seemed to make you anxious now. Sitting across the room and trying to make small talk with Primo Emeritus didn’t seem to help either. As kind and inviting as he was, he was still a complete stranger. An immortal stranger with superhuman strength you were supposed to stay far away from. Instead, he’d insisted on baking cookies for you.

Shaking your head, you jolted a little as the kettle began to scream from its spot of the stovetop. Sleep had been the furthest thing from your mind after Terzo’s spell. A full night’s rest would have been a dream, but there was no getting comfortable in this situation. How long could you be safe here in the middle of nowhere? How long would they wait this time?

“Primo, can I ask you something?” You wondered aloud, hoping the impending conversation would drown out the sound of the storm and your own thoughts.

He inclined his head, silently urging you to continue. A loose piece of his long, white-blond hair fell over the painted lines of his face as he moved; the rest was carefully tied back with a thin black ribbon. His focus remained on the pale green kettle in his hand as he transferred water into a dainty teapot at the edge of the counter. He moved with such precision, yet still maintained some impossibly delicate grace—the opposite of the way Terzo carried himself. There were other differences—far more than you could count—but where Terzo’s softness was an edge blunted by time, Primo’s seemed to be gently blurred into everything he did.

A flash of lightning filled the kitchen with bright light, the bank of windows on the eastern wall providing the perfect vantage point. You shuddered as thunder followed, too close and too loud for your own comfort. The storm blew a gentle breeze through the cracked windows and the ceiling fan above dragged it further in as it spun in lazy, lopsided circles. The kitchen smelled of florals and tea and rain, feeling like a Sunday afternoon you shouldn’t have access to. Everything was a little too dreamy, made fuzzy by a filter tinged with warm yellow-green like a flashback to someone else’s nostalgic past.

Someone else’s life.

“Why settle in this place?” you asked, vividly recalling the cracked asphalt and sun-bleached everything you’d passed on your way through town. “Why…here? The secluded cottage makes sense, but why live at the edge of some abandoned nowhere town?”

He turned to look at you for a beat before reaching for two teacups. “Well,” he started as he dropped a teabag into the pot. “It wasn’t always abandoned, piccolina.”

He set a cup in front of you before joining you at the table, a sigh leaving his lips as the wooden chair creaked beneath him. “This town…it used to full of a unique vibrance that drew me in. I suppose on some level I grew comfortable here, much like the other remaining residents. But mostly I stayed for the work. That’s what I told myself anyway. I have no doubt that Terzo would have you believe otherwise, but immortality can be incredibly mundane. When I found myself in this little town, I watched it grow from nothing just like I had done with a thousand other little towns in my lifetime. But this one—it was easier to fight that feeling of boredom here, to find a purpose. I chose to put my energy toward something, to have a common goal with the people here while I could. There’s a darling botanical garden on the edge of town, built something like seventy years ago, give or take. I helped fund the project.”

“Really? So, it had nothing to do with the cute girl that delivers your groceries?”

Black and white paint may have covered his entire face, but you could see Primo’s ears turn bright red. “That—she—hmph. She wasn’t even born yet. Neither were you for that matter.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s not the reason you stay.”

“The garden—“

“Sure, sure,” you teased. “Work, work, work.”

“Don’t start picking up bad habits from your beau, piccolina,” he warned. “Youth is wasted on the young indeed.”

“Not if you have an eternity to do something about it.”

He laughed quietly as he poured the most delicious smelling pink tea into each cup. “I forgot how much I enjoy such a human point of view. What of you and your eternal boytoy, hmm? What will you do when this is all over?”

You shrugged, pausing to consider his words. “Haven’t really thought that far. I think…I think I’d like to do all the things I never could before. No matter what happens I can’t go back to my old life—I wouldn’t want to go back, knowing what I know now. If I have to build a new life, it might as well be a better one than before. And if that sounds good to Terzo, then I’m happy to try building it together.”

“Hmm,” he replied with a thoughtful nod and faint smile playing on his lips.

“Belleza, I am happy to build you anything you want. But boytoy? Is that really what you’ve settled on, fratello?” Terzo grumbled as he appeared in the doorway, half-asleep with pillow marks on his face. He dropped into the seat next to you with a heavy sigh and rested his head on your shoulder. “Is that really all I am to you?”

“No. Sometimes you’re more of manbaby,” you replied and kissed the top of his head. “It’s ok though.”

“Ugh, I am so glad you two are getting along,” he teased sarcastically. “You are a bad influence on her, Primo.”

“Me? What did I do?” Primo mused as he took a sip of tea.

“You encourage her—”

“Ah.”

“—to be mean to me,” he whined. “What happened to that wide-eyed naïve girl from before, hmm?”

“I have no idea who you are talking about,” you responded flatly.

“Ah, yes. What happened to the fierce and terrifying woman who pretended not to be watching me sleep every night?”

“She met an unbelievably arrogant vampire.”

He sat up and shot you a big, toothy grin. “Oh, bellezza, was I your first?”

Primo groaned loudly and pushed away from the table. “Whatever you’re trying to do fratellino, do not do it in my kitchen.”

“Ah, calm down old man. I’m only teasing.”

“You were the one I liked enough to save. Even with your baking skills.”

Primo nearly spat out his tea. “Oh, Terzo, tell me you didn’t.” “I was trying to do something nice for you, bellezza. But fine, fine. Let’s all pick on Terzo!” he grumbled as he stood. For a split-second the life left his eyes, the light within him dimming like a flickering lightbulb in a haunted basement. He was completely blank—jaw slack and body limp. Primo crossed the room before you could even think to react, rushing over to keep his brother’s body from collapsing to the floor.

more stuff by me // my ko-fi tip jar

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ghoulette-knell · 7 months

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Touch Starved

Omega x Terzo

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Word Count: 2,158

TW: Rough Dom!Omega; Sub!Terzo; anal penetration; flirting to make another jealous; mild bondage; oral; handjob.

Terzo knew the exact way to make the fans scream with glee. That was flirting with his Nameless Ghouls. It always got the crowd going, and although his main target with this flirting was always Omega, today would be different. Ifrit, one of Terzo's other guitarists, would be receiving his teases and taunts tonight.

Terzo considered this payback as well as a punishment towards Omega. The Ghoul had been distant lately, not even willing to hang out with his Papa. Terzo suspected his little Ghoul might've been seeing someone else in the ministry, so two could play that game.

Papa Emeritus III galloped around the stage as Mummy Dust played; the crowd going wild as Zephyr grabbed his keytar, preparing for his iconic solo.

As Zephyr took the stage, Terzo took his opportunity to skip over to Ifrit; his eyes hungry for Omega's reaction.

He could feel Omega's eyes burning holes in the back of his head as he laid his hands softly into Ifrit's chest. The fire Ghoul gasped, not anticipating such a move from his Papa, but he wasn't upset with this. Underneath his mask, the Ghoul was smirking,

"What's this about, eh?" Ifrit yelled over the loud keytar solo, "What will Omega think?"

"Fuck Omega," Terzo growled while cupping Ifrit's face in his gloved hand, "That asshole doesn't even give me head anymore. I'm a busy man, and I can't wait around for him if he's not interested anymore."

Ifrit purred a bit and nodded, "I can surely help you out with that anytime, Papa. All you need to do is ask."

Terzo growled a little bit, the noise echoing through his chest. He loved it when his Ghouls referred to him as Papa. He was their Papa,

"Good boy," he whispered while patting Ifrit's cheek one more time, winking at the Ghoul.

Ifrit licked his lips, his smirk devious. He watched hungrily as Terzo skipped away to attend to the fans; his tail swishing around in anticipation.

As Zephyr raced back to his area in the back with the other air Ghouls, Terzo couldn't help but turn to face Omega. The Ghoul was staring at Terzo in disbelief. Even his mannerisms were off.

Usually Omega was wild on stage, always jumping around and showing his eager crowd how amazing he was. Now, he just stood still; glaring at Terzo.

The band quickly wrapped up the rest of the ritual as planned; Papa blowing kisses into the crowd as Pebble threw his drum sticks towards the screaming fans.

Before Terzo was even finished saying goodbye to everyone, he felt a hand wrap around the collar of his jacket; pulling him towards backstage.

He gasped, trying to catch his step as he was ruthlessly dragged away; the crowd erupting in laughter. They could see it was Omega dragging Papa backstage,

"Let go of me!" he growled once the two of them were backstage. He noticed it was Omega, and his anger melted away into amusement, "Ah, my sweet Ghoul. How did you enjoy the show?"

"What the hell was that?" Omega growled while pointing his finger right in Papa's face, "Do you want Ifrit to fuck you or something? Screw you, Terzo. You're such an asshole."

Terzo couldn't help but laugh as he led Omega towards the exit of the venue. Terzo was tired and wanted to take this back to his hotel room, which was strikingly-close to the venue, "At least Ifrit is willing to fuck me. You haven't paid attention to me in weeks."

All of the Ghouls decided to walk back together, and no one said a word about anything as Omega and Terzo fought back and forth. They could tell Omega was pissed, and Terzo would just fuel that flame.

Terzo told everyone goodnight as he got into the elevator. Although all of the Ghouls' bedrooms were beside one another, and Terzo's was down the hall, Omega opted to leave his fellow Ghouls to get an explanation from Terzo. Now that they were alone, Omega really lashed out,

"You have some nerve, Terzo," the Ghoul growled as Terzo unlocked his hotel room; walking inside, "Flirting with Ifrit? Really?"

"That's the only way to get your attention these days," the man rebutted while glaring at Omega, "What have you been doing these last few weeks instead of letting me fuck you? I'm sure nothing important."

Omega, once the door had shut, grabbed Terzo by the neck of his jacket and slammed his lips hungrily into Terzo's. The man groaned in pleasure, letting Omega take the lead without hesitation,

"Yes, Omega," Terzo growled while grinding his clothed bottom half across Omega's thigh hungrily, "Show me how much my antics with Ifrit has angered you. Punish me~"

"Just shut up," Omega growled against Terzo's lips; forcing the man down to his knees, "And don't think I didn't hear about what you said to Ifrit. About how I won't even suck your cock? Well, now you're gonna suck mine and I'll tell everyone the ministry how you were begging for it."

Terzo's eyes sparkled excitedly as he watched Omega fumble with his belt buckle as he spoke; his words full of anger, "Don't threaten me with a good time, little Ghoul."

Omega growled, removing his belt as soon as Terzo said that last sentence. Then, he got an idea. He looped around behind Terzo and grabbed his wrists; binding them together with his belt. Terzo's heart began to hammer in his chest. His mouth was watering.

"Because of how bad you've been, I won't even let you touch yourself while I have my way with you," the fire Ghoul spat while removing his dick from his boxers, pumping it a few times in front of Terzo's smirking lips.

"Now that's just mean," Terzo pouted; his mouth opening slightly to allow Omega to slip his dick inside.

That just caused the Ghoul to laugh,

"Aw, it's kind of cute how much you want my dick right now," he said while slapping it against Terzo's lips, "Alright, baby. I'll give it to you."

Terzo's tongue rolled out as Omega inserted his dick into the eager Papa's mouth. Terzo wanted nothing more than to touch himself while Omega had his way with his mouth, but the belt forbid this. Terzo groaned in annoyance over this; the vibrations running up Omega's dick.

"Lucifer... you feel so good with your mouth wrapped around my dick like this. Such a good boy," Omega groaned, his eyes slamming shut from the pleasure.

The Ghoul entangled his fingers through Terzo's neat hair; affectively ruining its perfect nature with his tugging and pulling.

Omega began thrusting in Terzo's mouth, using his Papa's hair as leverage to get a deeper thrust. Terzo's eyes had rolled back into his head as Omega had his way with him; his throat making unearthly squelching noises with every thrust.

"You're so good for me, Papa," Omega groaned while slowly his thrusts down to the point of clogging up Terzo's whole throat; restricting his breathing for a few seconds, "You better not think about Ifrit again. You're mine, you hear? Mine."

Terzo began to cough and sputter around Omega's cock. The Ghoul would occasionally remove his dick to make sure Terzo wouldn't pass out from lack of oxygen; a cocky smirk on his face every time Terzo gasped for air.

Then, during his final thrust, Omega groaned with an animalistic nature; burying his dick down in Terzo's throat. Ropes of thick seed immediately filled Terzo's mouth and trailed down to his stomach.

Omega removed his dick and smirked down in satisfaction as Terzo started coughing. There was still a line of saliva connecting Omega to Terzo, from dick to lips.

Terzo had a devious look on his face as some of Omega's cum dribbled down his lips, "Come clean me up, Ghoul."

His voice was hoarse from the rough throat fucking he had endured. The gravelly nature of his voice turned Omega on even more.

The Ghoul got down on his knees in front of Terzo and kissed him lovingly; his tongue occasionally trailing along Terzo's lips to clean up any of his mess that he may have left behind.

Then, Omega made it abundantly clear that he wasn't finished yet. He grabbed Papa by the belt that held his hands bound, pushing his face down onto the dirty hotel carpet below. With no hands, Terzo wasn't able to steady himself or regain balance. He was stuck like that; head down, ass up.

This dominance that Omega was showing turned Terzo on. He could feel his own dick pulsating from underneath his pants.

Without a single word, Omega took care of that pesky clothing that protected Terzo from the Ghoul. He grinned, noticing how hard Terzo was for him,

"You want me so badly, don't you, Papa?" he asked, emphasizing the word 'Papa' as he grabbed the man's dick; pumping it a few times in his hand, "I wanna hear you say it."

There was a growing sense of ecstasy growing in Terzo's abdomen; one that could only be cured by Omega's huge, throbbing cock, "Yes, Omega," Terzo whispered, his voice still horse from his throat fucking, "I need you now! Ifrit means nothing to me! Take what's yours!"

Omega, under normal circumstances, would've kept Terzo begging for his cock for hours, but his own instincts were fighting against him. His dick had already been lubed up thanks to Terzo's saliva, so entering his Papa wouldn't be too difficult.

"Just because you're our Papa doesn't mean you have free reign to us," Omega growled while probing Terzo's hole with the tip of his dick, "You don't just get to flirt with anyone, Terzo. You're mine and mine alone."

"Omega," Terzo growled, inching his ass back in a desperate attempt to force Omega's cock into him, "I get it. Lucifer... just fuck me!" he croaked out; his gloved fingers flexing in an attempt to untie himself.

"Good boy," Omega purred, pressing a kiss to Terzo's forehead before completely shoving his cock into Terzo's hole.

The pope screamed in pleasure as his demands were finally answered. Omega had his Papa wrapped around his little finger; the older man mewling like a kitten due to the pleasure Omega was giving to him.

Omega, with his left hand, grabbed Terzo's bound hands, and with his right, entangled his fingers into the man's hair. He pulled with every thrust, causing Terzo to grow overstimulated. The Satanic Pope was moaning and groaning with every thrust.

Omega gave all he could give in these precious moments with Terzo. His dick felt like a hot piston as it desecrated Terzo's asshole. Every thrust sent stars across Terzo's vision; drool beginning to trickle from his lips,

"F-F-Fuck," Terzo groaned; his hips moving in unison with the Ghoul's in hopes of maximizing pleasure, "Y-Yes!"

Omega bit into Terzo's shoulder as continued to deepen his thrusts. The Ghoul finally reached Terzo's prostate. That was enough to get an animalistic howl from Omega's mate; cum shooting from Terzo's exposed cock, which signified his orgasm.

White ropes of seed coated the dirty carpet below.

"Yes, cum for me," Omega growled low while quickening his pace. He was almost there himself, his Papa's orgasm pushing him ever so closer.

Using all of his strength, Omega continued to pile drive Terzo's asshole; the Papa laying tiredly on his face, subtle moans leaving his cum-covered lips.

Then, it happened.

Growling, Omega's pace began to grow sloppier and sloppier, "Fuck," he groaned, using both his hands to grab at Terzo's hips; burying himself balls-deep in his mate.

He filled Terzo's ass with bucket loads of cum. Stars overtook Omega's vision as he reached his peak; a real threat of passing out becoming reality. The pleasure was simply too much.

Both of the men breathed deeply and rapidly as they came down from their high. The Ghoul slowly removed his dick from Terzo's hole, a smirk on his face,

"So, what are we not doing to do anymore?" he asked his submissive partner, a hint of amusement laced in his words. He playfully pinched Terzo's blushing cheek.

Terzo looked back at Omega and blinked; the look of desire still in his eyes, "Look, if flirting with Ifrit will entice you to fuck me like that again, I might start doing it more."

The Ghoul chuckled and grabbed Papa's face, causing their lips to touch briefly, "I'll fuck you like this anytime, baby. Just don't flirt with Ifrit. You're mine.

Mine."

#fanfic #fanfiction #oc #oneshot #one shot #smut #ghost #ghost band #terzo #papa terzo #papa emeritus iii #terzo x omega #omega x terzo #terzo fanfiction #terzo ghost #omega ghoul #omega fanfiction

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bupia · 6 months

Note

18 with Terzo bc HONESTLY that's the plot of jigolo har megiddo

FORMAL WEAR

"I can't wait to take your innocence."

There's a smut under the cut, +18 only, please.

(Female!Reader: unprotected sex; fingering; teasing; dirty talk; Italian swearing; swearing; semi-public sex)

Available on AO3

Day 26 | Day 28

The night of the Halloween ball had finally arrived, and you had eagerly awaited it the entire week. Excitement coursed through your veins as you counted down the hours until the event. Papa Emeritus III, affectionately known as Terzo, was renowned for hosting the most extravagant parties, and tonight, he had something special in store: a Masquerade party with a Halloween twist. The concept was peculiar, as it required guests to dress up as monsters, witches, or creatures, but with the added mystique of masks.

However, you felt an inexplicable urge to defy convention. Instead of donning the typical ghoulish attire, you sought to bring an air of contrast to the evening. Your heart was set on something more elegant and formal. You had decided to opt for a graceful, floor-length dress and a delicate, unadorned mask. In your mind, you envisioned yourself as a character straight out of one of those enchanting princess tales, where a chance encounter behind a mask led to a whirlwind romance, or so the stories go.

Having just finished dressing up and making sure everything was in place, you gracefully made your way to the garden where the much-anticipated ball was set to unfold. You couldn't help but wonder if Papa Emeritus I, Primo, had any reservations about all the eccentric siblings wandering around the garden simultaneously. However, you figured that Terzo must have worked his charismatic magic to put Primo's nerves at ease.

As you entered the garden, you were greeted by an enchanting spectacle. The ambient lighting was a mix of eerie and alluring, with various hues casting an otherworldly glow. The decorations were hauntingly beautiful, and the carefully curated music added to the spine-tingling atmosphere, perfectly in sync with the Halloween theme.

The atmosphere at the event was beyond amazing, and you found yourself completely engrossed in the festivities. With the enchanting ambiance all around you, you decided to take a brief respite and headed toward the food table. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride; after all, you had lent a hand in the kitchen earlier, and the dishes turned out to be nothing short of delectable.

As you scanned the crowd, trying to spot your friends among the masked guests, your eyes locked onto a figure standing in the distance. It was a man, and he seemed to be gazing directly at you. The mask obscured his features, leaving you curious and somewhat intrigued. You couldn't be certain if he was one of the siblings from the ministry or just another guest. Maybe even someone from the Clergy.

Your curiosity piqued, you furrowed your brows and discreetly averted your gaze from the mysterious man. You hoped to lose him in the crowd as you began to move through the garden in search of your friends. To your surprise, the enigmatic figure matched your pace, maintaining a certain distance, and never breaking his gaze from you.

An uneasy sensation settled in the pit of your stomach as you did your best to avoid his penetrating stare. It was as though his eyes were fixed solely on you, and you could feel them on you even as you continued to walk.

As you finally came to a stop, feeling an overwhelming need to confront the mysterious man, you turned to face the spot where he had been. To your surprise, he had vanished, swallowed by the pulsating mass of dancing siblings.

Convinced it had all been a figment of your imagination, you turned to retrace your steps, intending to head back to where you had been. However, the moment you pivoted, your breath caught in your throat. There he stood, right behind you.

"You are looking very beautiful tonight, principessa," the man said, his voice strikingly familiar.

You couldn't believe your ears. "Papa?" you inquired, a sense of recognition dawning upon you.

"Oh, I'm not Papa today," he replied, a sly smile playing on his lips, "I'm just a masked man at a masquerade ball, sorella." He extended his hand toward you. "Would you like to have a dance with me?"

Your heart pounded, and you looked down at his hand before nodding in confirmation. You reached for his hand, and he led you gracefully to the dance floor.

As he placed his hand on your waist and drew you nearer to him, the rhythm of the music seemed to adapt to the pace of your heart. It wasn't a slow dance, yet he moved with such fluidity and grace that it felt as if a classical ballad played softly in the background. You glanced around, trying to comprehend, but all faded into insignificance when he pulled you even closer, leaving only a mere inch between your faces.

Your breath hitched, and you found yourself lost in the intensity of his gaze. His eyes bore into yours, a silent conversation unfolding between you. You followed his lead, allowing him to guide you gracefully as the music played on. Terzo took a deep breath, drawing back from you slowly, though his hand remained on your waist.

"Would you like to go to another area?" he asked.

"Of course," you replied, your voice trembling slightly.

He gently slid his hand from your waist and interlocked his fingers with yours, leading you out of the garden and back inside the ministry. The two of you walked in silence, following him down a corridor, and the anticipation in the air grew palpable.

After a brief moment, he turned to face you and slowly removed his mask, revealing his face for the first time without the signature Papa paint. His eyes bore into yours, and he took a step closer. With a delicate touch, he reached for your mask, removing it and allowing it to fall to the floor.

"Can I?" he whispered, his voice laden with meaning.

You nodded, your heart pounding, understanding the unspoken question. You closed your eyes, ready for what was to come. His hands slid to the sides of your body, drawing you closer, and you rested your arms on his shoulders. Terzo leaned in, and your lips met in a tender, passionate kiss.

As your lips danced together in a fervent embrace, you took a deep breath, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, drawing him closer, and his response was a deep, guttural groan that escaped into your mouth. Your hand found its way to his hair, fingers caressing the strands gently, eliciting a shiver from him.

He moved his hand to the small of your back, pressing you even closer, as if such closeness were even possible. The intensity of the moment surged, and your mouths parted, allowing your tongues to meet in a passionate, almost erotic dance.

He led you backward until your back was pressed against one of the cool marble walls of the hallway. His body was firmly pressed against yours, and the passionate kiss was momentarily broken as he moved to your neck. His lips and tongue trailed along your skin, leaving a trail of hungry, feverish kisses.

You unwrapped your arms from around his neck, one hand remaining on his head, fingers tangled in his hair, while the other hand found its place on his waist. The intoxicating scent of his cologne enveloped you, and you couldn't help but close your eyes, your mouth parting in a silent moan.

"Papa..." you called out, your voice quivering with desire. "I don't think... we should do it here..."

"We are not doing anything wrong, sorella," he whispered, his warm breath against your skin as he continued to suck on your neck. "And no one will see us here; they are all at the party anyway."

"But what if..." you attempted to voice your concern, but your words dissolved into a passionate moan as he bit your neck ever so slightly.

He withdrew from your neck and met your gaze. "Should we put a pause on this? If you'd rather not continue, we can stop."

In a soft voice, you replied, "I don't want to stop, Papa."

A low, satisfied growl rumbled from him, and he brushed his lips across yours. "Molto bene," he purred. "I can't wait to take your innocence."

You chuckled softly, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, fingers caressing the tension there. "Who said I'm innocent, Papa?" you said with a playful tone.

"I thought principesse like you were innocent," he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

You leaned in close, your voice a sultry whisper, "Not this one right here." As you spoke, you gently ran your tongue along his lips, watching with satisfaction as his eyes rolled back in pleasure.

A big, devilish smile spread across his lips as he turned his attention back to your neck, trailing a path of soft kisses from your neck to your shoulder and collarbone. His hands gently caressed their way down to your shoulders. His fingers traced a path down your shoulders, gently pulling the straps of your dress down, baring your breasts for him.

His hands skillfully moved from your arms to your breasts, tenderly taking them into his warm palms and giving them a gentle squeeze. His kisses grew more fervent on your neck, and the exquisite sensations caused you to gasp in response.

"Ah... Papa..." you breathed, your voice filled with desire.

"You can call me by my name if you want, sorella," he whispered, his warm breath tickling your ear.

"Terzo..." you moaned.

"Perfetto," he cooed, his voice laden with desire. "Again," he commanded, gently increasing the pressure on your breasts.

"Terzo..." you moaned once more, your voice thick with longing.

"Molto bene," he praised. "Again," he repeated as his mouth found your breasts, taking a nipple into his warm mouth, and sucking on it with an intoxicating fervor.

"Terzo!" you cried out, your senses fully immersed in the pleasure of the moment, your eyes closing in ecstasy.

"Hold your dress for me," he whispered, biting your nipple gently.

Your hands moved quickly to comply, lifting your dress up for him. He then knelt before you, the tension between you both growing even more palpable.

"I can see someone is already wet for Papa," he remarked, his eyes fixated on your panties. "Molto bene, you're making your Papa very proud."

Terzo wasted no time, swiftly moving his hands to the waistband of your panties and sensually pulling them down to your ankles. He tucked them into his pants pocket with a sly smile. His gloved hands then, gently caressing your calves and making their way upward to your thighs. With each caress, he left a trail of kisses along your legs, heightening the sensation as desire coursed through his veins.

"Sei così bella," he whispered, his voice filled with admiration. "I recognized you the moment you arrived in the garden. As soon as I saw you, I knew who was behind the mask. I was waiting for you."

"W-Waiting for me?" you stammered, surprised by his words.

"Sì," he confirmed, his lips brushing against your thigh. "La sorella più bella nel mio ministero. How could I not notice la più bella among all of them?"

He continued to lavish kisses all over your thighs, making his way to your inner thighs and leaving a trail of soft bites that caused your legs to tremble with anticipation. His chuckle at your reaction only added to the excitement, and he proceeded to trace a path with his warm, lingering kisses from your inner thighs toward your core.

He lowered his face, and his lips and nose brushed sensually against your folds. The sensation of his nose lightly grazing your clit and the softness of his lips proved overwhelmingly erotic, causing you to whimper at the intense pleasure. Terzo then rose from his knees, his hand moving to rest gently on your pubic mound, his touch leaving you trembling with desire.

"Do you want me to touch you?" he asked.

"Yes, Papa," you replied, your voice filled with longing.

"And here?" He lowered his hand, his fingers gently finding your clit and pressing it.

"Yes, yes, yes," you moaned, your pleasure evident. "Yes, Papa, just there."

"I said you can call me by my name, sorella," he gently reminded you, his fingers continuing to rub your clit in a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure through you. "Say it to me now, say my name."

"Ah! Terzo!" you moaned, your back arching in response to the intense pleasure.

"Bene, you are so good for me," he praised, his hand moving lower, leaving your clit, and exploring your entrance. "What about here?" he inquired.

"Mmmm... very much..." you purred, completely lost in the fiery desires.

Terzo slowly slid his middle finger into you, and an intense wave of desire engulfed your entire body. He held it there without moving, watching you as you began to move your hips, seeking a response from him. His sly grin only added to the tantalizing anticipation, creating tension. Slowly, he added another finger, and the sensation caused you to moan softly.

"Do you think you can handle another one, sorella?" he asked, his index finger teasing the contours of your entrance.

"Yes, Terzo," you purred with confidence. "I can handle it all." Your hands gripped your dress even tighter, holding it up for him.

He nodded and then slowly inserted his third finger inside you. The intense sensation caused your body to jump with pleasure, and you felt as though you were melting under his touch. But he held his fingers still, prolonging the tantalizing agony. Your urgent need for movement was evident as you tried to convey it by clenching your walls around his fingers, silently urging him to move.

He grinned at you, fully aware of how much you desired this. Terzo withdrew his hand from between your legs, and you looked down at his fingers, now glistening with your arousal, moaning in frustration.

"You like that, sì?" he teased.

"Yes," you admitted breathlessly.

With your response, Terzo slid his fingers back inside you, initially moving them in and out gently, but gradually picking up the pace. As he quickened his rhythm, you couldn't help but arch your back and release a soft moan of intense pleasure. His movements became faster and more purposeful, skillfully targeting your most sensitive areas.

The sensation was incredible, but your desire for more was insatiable. You gazed up at him with a pleading look in your eyes, silently urging him to take you even further in the depths of lust.

"What is this look, sorella?" he inquired, his eyes locked onto yours.

"I want you, Terzo... inside me," you whispered, your voice heavy with desire.

"Inside? You want my cock?" he inquired, his voice a sultry murmure

"Yes, please... give me your cock," you begged.

He sensually removed his fingers from inside you, bringing them up to his mouth and sucking them clean, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I will give you what you want," he whispered, his voice a sultry promise, a devilish grin on his lips.

Terzo stood and removed his pants, and you watched with anticipation as his erection sprang free, hard and ready. He moved his hands to your legs, lifting them from the floor and placing them on his hips. As he did, you felt his hardness pressing against your moist folds. Your hands left your dress and found their way to his shoulders, gently caressing them.

“Please, Terzo… Please, fuck me… right now…” you begged, your desire laid bare in your voice and your pleading eyes.

Terzo placed his hands on your waist and lifted you slightly, guiding his length into you. You gasped as he entered you, feeling the fullness of his hardness. As his entire length penetrated you, a moan escaped your lips. Your head fell back as you savored the sensation of being filled so completely, and your eyes closed as you relished the feeling of his warm body pressed against yours.

"Merda... so wet... so tight... feels so good inside," he moaned, his voice laden with pleasure.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him, and your senses were overwhelmed by the pulsing rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. Your eyes locked with his, and the burning desire in his gaze ignited a fierce passion between you as he began to thrust. Leaning forward, he placed his hands on your thighs, keeping you firmly in place.

"Oh, Terzo... so good..." You moaned, arching your back as his thrusts sent waves of pleasure through your body. "Your cock feels so good inside..."

"Does it, sorella?" he asked, his eyes burning with desire as he continued to move inside you. "You like my cock inside you?"

You nodded eagerly, your nails lightly scraping along his back. "Yes... yes... but please don't stop..." Your hips instinctively rocked, urging him to quicken the pace.

Terzo's lips found yours, and he kissed you hungrily, your tongues intertwining in a passionate dance. His thrusts quickened, and the intensity of your connection deepened with each movement. The corridor was filled with the sound of your moans, the erotic echoes of your desire. His hands gripped your hips firmly as he maintained a relentless rhythm, his length sliding in and out of you.

"Yes! Just like that! Oh, Terzo! Yes... fuck me just like that..." Your voice was filled with ecstasy and longing as you couldn't help but moan and cry out in pleasure.

His passionate rhythm showed no sign of slowing down, his length driving into you with unrelenting desire. The corridor echoed with the sounds of your moans. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you held him close, lost in the intoxicating whirlwind of sensations. Terzo's desire for you intensified, and he picked up the pace, thrusting into you with a frenzied urgency. Your moans grew louder and more desperate as his movements became faster and more passionate.

"Merda, your pussy feels amazing," he growled, looking at you with desire in his eyes. "You are so hot, taking my cock so well. Your pussy is taking me so well, and it's driving me wild, sorella."

You met his passionate thrusts with your own, rocking your hips in sync with his, creating a harmonious rhythm. Your mouths met again, and your kisses were filled with hunger and longing, your tongues dancing in a passionate exploration.

You broke the kiss, locking your gaze with his, and the intensity of your need mirrored in his eyes left you feeling weak and consumed by the lust. Your head rested against his shoulder, and the sound of your heartbeats echoed in your ears.

"Terzo... Terzo..." you moaned his name, your voice filled with longing, and you heard him grunting with pleasure. "Terzo, please... more... more..."

Your body undulated with each rhythmic thrust of his length, the sensation of being completely filled transcending any experience you'd had before. Terzo maintained the deep, relentless rhythm, and you couldn't help but release a long, low moan of profound satisfaction. His hands tightened their grip on your thighs, and you were certain he could feel the tension building within you. The intensity grew as Terzo's thrusts became harder, his movements faster and powerful.

"More? You want more, sorella?" he groaned, his voice heavy with desire.

"Yes... give it all to me... please, please, don't stop, fuck me," you pleaded, your need for more was undeniable.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to penetrate you even deeper. The sound of your breathing grew ragged, and your moans became increasingly urgent. Your body arched against the wall, the impending climax growing more powerful with each passing moment.

"Terzo, I'm going to cum... I'm going to cum!" you cried out.

"Sì, sì, molto bene, cum all over my cock, sorella, make your Papa happy," he encouraged.

You could no longer hold back, and your cries of ecstasy filled the hallway as you climaxed fiercely, your muscles contracting around Terzo's member as you rode the exhilarating wave of orgasmic bliss.

"Yes-yes-yes-yes-yes!" You cried out as your orgasm exploded, a surge of intense pleasure rippling through your body like an electric current.

With a fervent cry of desire, he exclaimed, "Merda... so tight...! I can't-" as he delivered a final powerful thrust, releasing his seed deep within you.

He remained connected to you, still holding himself inside as you both took a moment to recover. Your legs remained tightly wrapped around his waist. You looked into his eyes, and he met your gaze, his face flushed with the intensity of the action.

"You are so beautiful when you come, sorella," he said, his voice filled with emotion.

"Thank you," you replied, your smile tinged with shyness. "I'm glad I could please you."

"You please me by letting me please you," he chuckled as he gently withdrew from you, carefully placing your legs back on the floor. "Would you give me the pleasure of continuing to please you this night, sorella?" he whispered, his voice heavy with desire.

"Very much, Terzo," you replied, your desire mirrored in your eyes as you bit your lower lip. "But what about the Halloween party?"

"They won't even notice I'm not there, as they can't see who is who under the masks," he reassured you with a whisper, before capturing your lips in one more fervent, passionate kiss.

#kinktober #ghost band #ghost bc #the band ghost #ghost the band #papa emeritus x reader #smut #terzo ghost #terzo fanfiction #terzo x reader #terzo smut #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus 3 #papa terzo #papa emeritus smut #papa emeritus terzo #ghost terzo #terzo #papa emeritus iii terzo

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