Terzo X Reader - Tumblr Posts

— what the cat dragged in

characters: papa emeritus iii/you, cardinal copia, nameless ghouls, sister imperator

wc & genre/notes: 8.1k – strangers to friends/lovers, fluff, suggestive content (minor discussion of kinks and terzo being terzo during mummy dust. That part starts with “I’d say you’re deflecting,” and ends with the divider.) neighbors au, reader has a cat… I’ll b honest idk what else to say

a/n: this is My blog and I get to choose how cringe I want to be. Yes I said I’d not write for ghost and did it anyways after one (1) bad day. Yes this file is titled “hatehatehatemyself” on Google drive. The part after the burgundy divider is an optional ending. You can read the entire thing as platonic or slowly growing into something romantic. have fun x

Head turned left and right, looking around, no sign around.

The neighborhood is rather quiet today, the sun up and everyone out, at work or else. Rustling of grass with each breeze reaches your ears, and each time you whip your head toward the direction with hope.

In a breath, you cross the road and walk and walk and walk. It’s a long one, not unbearably so but still a little unnerving. You don’t recall many people going this way after all.

Now standing before the grand door, the little mailbox a few meters away awfully standing out, you raise your fist and knock.

And wait.

And waiting you do for almost a minute, if it weren’t for the noises you hear, a clutter of something, a shatter there and finally footsteps.

The door swings open– though it looks too heavy to be opened just like that and the man stands tall before you, forearm resting against the frame, leaning his entire weight to it, eyes barely open and you don’t need to see the barely filled bottle he holds to tell he is drunk.

The scent of alcohol reeks off him just enough.

Your nose scrunches up at the smell.

Squinting his eyes at the sudden intrusion of light coming from the sun, he doesn’t acknowledge you right away.

You doubt he has noticed you.

Isn’t it a bit too early to be drinking like this already? He looks trashed, to say the least.

Then he seems to notice you, though he makes so little movement to fix his posture, the belt tied around his waist barely doing its job to hold the robe together.

Decent on the eyes, you’d have thought for the guy, if it wasn’t for the weird face paint.

Getting too far and a little too early on the halloween spirit?

“Ah…” you clear your throat and try again. “So you see, my cat was lost and–”

“Oh perfect! That’s just lovely now.” he cuts you off, quite loud too. Head thrown back, he holds a sneer. “And what, little one ? Decided to come here and accuse us?” bottle dropped on the floor, rolls off to the side, hitting to an end by the door frame. 

With both hands free, he throws them up in mockery, mimicking what you can only think to be a kid’s voice: “‘ Oh no the big bad mean satanists stole my cat and used it for their sick rituals. ’” hands dropped to his sides immediately as he is done with his imitation, he glares down at you: “Well guess what? Buzz off! As if I don’t have enough bullshit to deal with right now. Go find a more creative way to get in sherlock.” 

So they were satanists after all…

Good to know you suppose, not that you care in all honesty. The whole church-like air of the building only gets more confusing for you though.

Before he can close the door to your face, you place your palm against it to stop him. “Hey!” 

The force behind the door comes to a pause, probably didn’t expect you to fight back.

“Listen, Mr. Halloween or whatever poor Jack Skellington look you were going for.” you begin speaking, ignoring the way his face morphs into pure confusion. “How about you listen to people before barking assumptions at them?”

A moment of breath, the resistance behind the door ends completely and he opens it full again, waiting for you to continue but doesn’t seem all too happy.

“My cat likes to go outdoors and one of my neighbors said to me once that he often visits this place. So can I please come in?”

Seeing it written clear that you won’t be leaving any time soon, the guy sighs and steps aside. “Don’t touch anything and don’t leave my sight.”

Footsteps echoing in the hallways, you ‘pspsps’ here and there in hopes of your cat turning around but to no avail.

It’s only when passing a door that the guy pauses and curses to himself, you can hear the hints of an accent.

Turning to face him, he takes in your raised brow as a question.

“Copia has rats– pet rats. Your cat better be a vegan because I will not deal with his whole…” he gestures with his hand at nothing, “mourning or Sister Imperator’s reprimanding if a single one of them is missing.”

“Mr. Whiskers is a well behaving, domesticated cat with manners, thank you very much.” you say and turn your head with a huff.

Copia? Imperator? You have no idea who these guys are but you’re sure you can handle a couple of …dorky satanists, if the rest of them are just like this man baby at least.

You can always leave town before night too, if it comes down to it.

Only few steps away and the man watches as you disappear, yelling after you about ‘what did he say’ and all that bullshit but you couldn’t care any less because there he is, your precious baby!

All pulled up into a cozy little furry ball by the corner under a window, in what appears to be someone’s bedroom.

Pretty messy too.

The man seems to catch sight of you and say something he thinks is amusing, or sleek, from the tone he uses, though you pay no attention to his words or how they suddenly run dry. (‘ well if your eye on me the whole time, you didn’t need to make up an excuse about a lost c –’)

Picking up your cat despite his protests, you turn and thank him with a nod. His words register in your mind with a small delay. 

“Maybe consider tidying up your room, what are you, twelve?” and with that, you exit his warzone of a room and walk back the path you took, with Mr. Whiskers purring in your arms the entire walk home.

The second time your cat goes missing while you’re home, you know better.

Instead of wasting hours searching around, you hike up all the way to that dreaded place and knock on the door with force and impatience.

It is a woman who answers instead.

A woman who does not seem to be the slightest bit impressed.

Staring at her bored face, you take notice of her clothes you can deem as formal for the place, the sound of fabric brushing as she crosses her arms, you snap out of it, trying to formulate the words regarding your cat and and all.

Whatever thought seems to pass her mind, you conclude that she doesnt care and watch as she leaves the door open, walking back inside. So you hurriedly follow.

“Sleek, black hair you said?” she asks, still walking ahead as you nod– shit, satanist or not, she can’t have an eye at the back of her head now; letting out a hum of affirmation you fasten your steps and try to walk by her side.

Steps come to a halt before a closed door, she knocks firmly, once.

Upon receiving no answer whatsoever, she rolls her eyes and opens the door.

They must have quite the savings you think, to have a place with soundproof walls and doors. The unmistakable sound of skin slapping against skin, breathy moans and all, you wonder to yourself, couldn’t your cat have picked somewhere …normal to take his afternoon naps.

Paying the scene before her eyes no mind, the woman steps in– is that who the man referred to as Sister Imperator?, and you catch her words about grabbing the darn cat now and continuing his pity party later.

The sounds of sex stop and you can hear someone walking around all the while mumbling something.

Before you can thank the woman however, she turns and walks away.

Less than a minute later the same man from before peeks out his head through the door.

Wearing a different robe this time and doing a poor job of holding your cat, though Mr. Whiskers doesn’t seem to mind, the traitor, he watches as you take the cat from his arms.

As you turn to leave and call it a day, maybe open a bottle of wine and see where the night takes you, a ‘hey!’ catches up to you from behind.

Leaning against the door frame like he did the first time, he waits for you to face him.

“Just let me know next time your cat comes over. I doubt neither you nor Sister would like to become frequent acquaintances.” 

You eye him with a suspicious look. Sure the woman does seem like if she sees you 3 times a week or more for your cat, she might sacrifice you and Mr. Whiskers to Lucifer with her bare hands but hey, you cannot control who answers the door now.

As if sensing your train of thought, or, a part of it, he lets out a sigh, “My windows are pretty wide. Pretend they’re doors or something.”

“...right.” Sounds more and more reassuring with each word for sure, great , thank you Mr. Whiskers.

Then an after thought seems to follow as a whine can be heard from inside his room, “ Just – maybe let me know ahead before you come through the window, yeah ?”

“And I should do that, how?” you ask, wishing the whole encounter to be over “I don’t want you charging me if a stone happens to find its way in.”

From how he mumbles the words ‘charging’ and ‘stone’ confused, it seems to be taking him a while to register your words.

The implication of your words seem to dawn in as his face goes down “Last I checked, cellphones exist.” he states, not sounding too happy about the possible danger his precious windows may face. 

“And how should I know this isn’t some weird excuse to get my number?” you sound skeptical, on the edge, probably finger hovering over that dial button to the police if it wasn’t for the cat in your arms.

At your words though, he chuckles. “I do have a girl in my bed right now, you know?”

“And my question remains unchanged.” staring at him with a dead serious expression, you watch as his amused face falls, his eyes rolling and he shoves a hand down one of his pockets, taking out a pen.

Expectant eyes on you– wait, what is up with his eyes? , he pushes off the cap, shaking his left arm so the robe’s arm can slide off, revealing his skin, waiting. Waiting for you.

“You better not send me any weird crap or call-” you state then say out your phone number.

Well, worst comes to worst, you know a good lawyer.

Third time's the charm is how the saying goes. You have your doubts but perhaps there is truth to it as the man’s ridiculous window idea works.

It takes no time to figure out Mr. Whiskers spends his afternoons there because the rays of sunlight hit just right, and right next to where he sleeps is a comfortable armchair with black and white hair decorating its surface a little.

Few steps ahead of his windows, the view of a wonderful garden has attracted your attention but you know better than to ask, or enter without permission. The amount of times you’ve dropped by increases at record speed, yet the air between you both is still tight.

He lets out a warm laugh when he gets a good look at him once, but when you ask, you get no reply. Surely this cannot be the first tuxedo cat he has ever seen in his life.

One silence after another, he must've sensed how tense and awkward it feels too, as a little after he tries to make conversation and apologize.

So they are a satanic organization, that’s fine.

You’ve always wondered as a kid about the gatherings you’d see within a distance but never bothered to check for yourself.

A rock band to spread their word and message however, now that is odd. You’re starting to think their anti church might be the most normal thing to them.

Yet you remain your silence and let him speak, listen, and try to make as much sense of them as you can because god knows you won’t be leaving this place any time soon.

He says he is– was the frontman of the band, and their beloved antipope , but was dethroned , or so he claims, few days prior to your arrival.

You can understand frustration over something you have dedicated your time and effort into, and for you to be pulled off it without a logical explanation. That explains drinking until the brain shuts down despite that scent of alcohol still stings your senses.

Nodding to his words, you take his apology and leave with Mr. Whiskers that day. He asks if you’d like to see the garden the next time your legs are dangling off the windowsill.

You accept in a heartbeat.

With the weather warming up and all, your cat seems to enjoy the garden as much as you do.

Trees and flowers of all kinds tended to with care and love, you can tell. Each arranged with care, the entire place paints a beautiful picture before your eyes, and endless too.

Same as the window, this becomes a habit too. To stroll in the garden and sit on one of the stone benches, talking or staying like this in silence.

He seems fond of Mr Whiskers for reasons unknown to you, until he pulls out a photograph of someone in what you make out to be a tuxedo of sorts, on a stage no less.

The photograph is of small scale, you cannot make out much of the details, so he takes it upon himself to explain that it is indeed him in the photo and the looks of your cat caught him by surprise because of his looks.

Without waiting for a reaction, he offers to show you the outfit he wore back then, though he sounds a little melancholic about the whole thing still.

Sure , you agree, but keep it to yourself that the regency shirt and black pants look just fine on him.

It blurs at one point you begin visiting even without Mr. Whisker’s presence in his room.

Bursting out into laughter, he looks almost offended at your reaction. “I’m sorry-” your giggles break through as you wipe off a tear, “what did you say it was again?” 

“Emeritus.” he says flatly.

“Emeritus.” you repeat, this time doing a better job at containing the giggling.

“Yes, Emeritus,” he says again and adds, “The third.” 

If your laughter before was loud, this is something beyond, enough to make him go deaf in comparison.

“Okay no, I’m not calling you-”  you bring your hands up to finger quote, “Emeritus The Third.” you say in a serious tone. “And I’m certainly not calling you ‘papa’ or some bullshit title.” you cut in before he can get a word out.

“We’re going to need a nickname, what about ‘em’?”

“Em.” his tone asking ‘are you for real?’, his turn to repeat now.

“Okay no, that’s just as bad, give me some time to th-” hand covering his face, he just shakes his head with a sigh. 

“Just call me Terzo , caro mio.”

Seeing as to no reply from you comes, he removes his hand and looks up. “It means ‘ the third ’ in Italian.”

“Oh,” you manage to say, though you do sound a little different now, perhaps you thought from his reactions you hurt him and now feel sorry about that? 

“Yeah, I can do that, Terzo.” speaking with more confidence now, testing the name on your tongue, you talk more to yourself and nod your head than to him– he finds watching you act like this, how you operate and think as you talk endearing.

You find yourself liking spending time with Terzo more than you’ve realized.

Work is work, adulting is the same and sometimes relationships with friends feel dull or far away.

To say the least, he is interesting. Usually something to catch you off guard or wondering, it is guaranteed your time with him is never one to fall victim to boredom.

So he speaks of his life, of things he has done on the road and whatnot, even going as far to recreate when he tried to kick off a beach ball only to fall, basking in the waves of your laughter, even complaining to him by nighttime that your face hurts from laughing so much.

In return you feel you don’t have as exciting stories but he listens as if they’re the most wonderful things he has ever heard.

You deem them mundane and every time without a beat, he says only to you.

It comes down to, more like remembering, those scenes from when you were a kid.

He is awfully quiet that day, when you speak of seeing figures in black walking in tow, a kid or two that seemed to be your peers but how their estate in the eyes of some were off limits, and it was always at an odd time for you to be walking up there and talk with the kids.

A shame, the two of you could’ve met much earlier, yet he doesn’t voice it and you do not realize it.

Of all the things he has experienced recently, entering his room, to a bed unmade, finding you wrapped in the covers and sound asleep, would score high on Terzo’s list of things he wouldn’t expect– that is, if his brain could even muster up such a scene.

He doesn't need to, though, as it becomes real before his eyes and he makes way for the loveseat that night.

He doesn’t pry about it and all you say under your breath is that you felt lonely.

‘What about Wh-’ before he can ask, you open the covers partly to reveal that Mr. Whiskers is indeed with you, in his bed.

He just hopes the cat won’t switch his usual spot for his bed when he comes next time.

The nightly visits from you start to occur more, by the third time he knows it’ll become another constant, though not as frequent.

You do appear upset that he has to sleep on the couch, yet he waves his hand dismissively, that he doesn’t mind– he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, or cross any unnamed boundaries. Which is a little outside the usual for him, he is known for being bold, for holding and kissing hands and doing much more when he can even smell from a kilometer away the slightest of interest the other party has in him.

The next time it repeats, he is startled by a sudden noise as he makes for the couch as always. Turning on his heel only to see you patting the spot next to you in his bed.

Sure, it is a spacious bed, more than enough space for the both of you, and Mr. Whiskers, yet he still feels tense about the whole situation.

What if he wraps an arm around you or something in his sleep and you wake up angry, that he jumped into conclusions, that this wasn’t what you wanted at all and that you’ll never visit again and file a restra–

“You think too much.” 

You draw him out of his pocket sized crisis with few words and a flock on his forehead. “Keep doing that and you’ll end up with wrinkles in no time.”

What else can he do but chuckle at that and sink into sleep, safe and sound?

Wine is a skillful loosener, as the two of you rediscover together.

On days you stick around for longer, he makes his offer– though you refuse it as much as you can.

Despite dropping by unannounced after a while, you haven't walked into any intimate moments. And against your initial claim, your phone does get bombarded, usually photos of Mr. Whiskers when Terzo catches a glimpse of him, or when he thinks he is being adorable.

The latter is worse, because Terzo always finds him adorable once he warms up to the cat. The way he acts through text makes you picture him lying on the floor, hands supporting his chin, legs behind him dangling in the air, watching the unknowing cat as he sleeps or does the most mundane cat thing anyone can think of.

Neither of you are aware just how fascinating mundane is to him.

You can sense his pout from meters away.

“Okay, I’ll bite.” you put down the stacked papers. “What is it?”

Crossing his arms, he turns away partially, grumbling under his breath, “I don’t know what youre talking about.”

Getting closer to Terzo means many things, witnessing the absolute manchild that resides in him included.

Picking up your phone to turn the volume down, your eyes find his figure again– either he resembles Mr. Whiskers more than you gave them credit for or your time spent with him making you delusional. “Out with it already,” his form shrinks only further, “or no more visits from me or Mr. Whiskers.”

Now that , gets his attention.

Eyes focused somewhere near your face intentionally, he almost appears reluctant to say the words.

“How come you never listen to any of my songs?”

It takes you few seconds longer to register his words.

Before you can answer, he begins rambling, so rushed and in a whisper, all you can hear is few words in italian, which you’re sure are curses slipping his tongue and terms of endearment.

“I just… forgot?” you offer with a shrug.

Okay, maybe not the best response as this gets him to throw his arms into air, “ mio satana , you are unbelievable.” a finger pokes into your side, you haven't even realized he already crossed the distance between you both.

So he gets jealous when you listen to other musicians, huh , you save the information for future use.

As you begin laughing, he chuckles, muttering under his breath. “I guess, I’ll  have to bring a ritual to your feet.”

It goes unknown to you that Terzo semi-regularly orders cat food for Mr. Whiskers, not that the cat ever seemed to be hungry when he was there, but hey, cannot hurt to try. If the cat only decides to visit him, with you in cue, more often, now there is no harm in that.

Another thing unbeknownst to you, is that, despite the distance between their estate and your house, Terzo can spot your lights without much effort.

If he were to dramatize the entire thing between you both and more, he’d refer to it as a beacon of light. But he doesn’t need to, because there is nothing more to what it is between the two of you, even if unnamed, even when he cannot help wondering “ what if …”, wondering if he is misinterpreting things.

So when he doesn’t see the lights turn on by the night time one evening, he doesn’t care, maybe the power went out, maybe you just want to try something different for a change. He certainly doesn’t care in the morning when he sees a second figure come out of the door, or when you drop by later that evening, a throbbing headache and ‘ long day at work’ you just murmur as you fall asleep on his shoulder.

You accept the wine when you're taking another stroll in the gardens.

With the weather beginning to cool down, you welcome its warmth to your very bones.

Booze loosens your tongue first, and soon your senses, your train of thought. Whether it’s a good thing or not that you’re not the only victim… you don't know.

“Was it worth it at least?” he muses as you’re seated on the same bench, glasses sat on the ground.

You twist your face, trying to recall, “Once I tuned his voice out, yeah I guess?” he snorts at your words, “Isn’t this the usual case?” 

“Nah,” you drag the word as you reach for your glass, “He could also suck in bed. So the entire night wasn’t a waste I suppose. Never going back to that place though, I’m picky for a reason.”

You say the words more to yourself as a mantra than anything, Terzo watching you with a giggle hanging on his lips. 

“Bad drinks as well?”

“It’d be charity to call them as such, ugh,” with a sigh, you drink down the remaining half of your wine, tipping the empty glass to his direction.

Taking your glass, he switches it with his and you take no time to bring it back to your lips.

“But this?” you raise the glass, “now that is a quality product.”

With another chuckle, he reaches for the bottle and fills the empty glass in his hand.

The topic of your recent and unfortunate endeavors morph into complaining about work, people in the streets, weird posts on the internet and whatnot.

“Okay, okay,” you try to speak inbetween laughter, “so what about weird preferences when it comes to sex?”

He just gives you a teasing smirk as you place your finger on his lips as a means to shush him “we already know weird shit and food combinations the other likes, consider this a slight change of topic.”

“I’d say you’re deflecting, but alright, I’ll buy.” he shrugs, throwing his head back to drink from the bottle– the glasses cast aside an hour or so ago.

“Any kink you can think of, I’m most likely into already, so just ask me yourself.”

You bring a finger to your chin, contemplating what to say for a moment, “Socks stay on or?..” you let your voice trail off, gazing at him from the side with a smile.

Bringing a hand over his heart and another against his forehead, he faces you fully and lets out a loud gasp. “Caro mio! You wound me. I might be the antipope but I am not a lunatic!”

He opens one eye to seize your reaction, and when your gazes meet, both of you burst into laughter.

“But the face paint stays on, no?” you gesture to your face once you stop clutching your stomach.

“Everyone has a preference, tesero.” he shrugs.

Considering his position and the closest people he can find to fuck, it does add up, you suppose.

“Now enough about me, what about you ?” He leans in to you, flashing his teeth. Not letting him get to him, you snatch the bottle from his hand. 

“What about me, indeed huh? Just your basic, vanilla bullshit.” you close your eyes as you gulp down the wine.

Your comment only ignites him further, with another chuckle, he scoots closer, “You? Vanilla? I’d beg to differ,” and again, with the poking to your sides, he pleads “Don’t keep your papa waiting now.” “Okay first of all–” 

You snap your head to him, only to be nose to nose, “ Not the ‘p’ word, we went over that ages ago, not calling you that.”

“Only because you’re being such a tease,” he sing-songs, his head thrown back.

 “You are such a child,” you mumble as you place the bottle between your legs, hands gripping its neck.

“Biting, I suppose.” You can hear him open an eye and look your way, “Nothing extreme as I said, but people aren’t exactly dying to be covered in red and purple, you know?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” he answers, “their loss.”

You can sense he wants to pry further but keeps himself, and hell , the wine is good, there is another bottle waiting by his foot, and compared to the amount of black mail-level footage of him you've got, this feels like nothing.

“Taking risks.” you say in a whisper, partially hoping he doesn’t hear.

“Now, this falls vague, bella.” he says. “Risks of conceiving, catching STDS–” he begins counting with a finger,

“ No ! I said risks , not being an idiot.” You cut in, a hand covering your face.

You know he is waiting with that smug smirk, “risks of getting caught, like, dunno , semi public spaces and the likes?” you ask more than speak, meeting his gaze as you finish speaking.

“So that’s where the biting comes,” he speaks in a knowing tone, “leaving telltale marks blooming everywhere?” he muses as his hand begins to move, finger grazing against your skin.

“Like this?” he asks, hand going up and drawing patterns on your thigh, slowly going up, his eyes gauging your expression. 

“...yeah” you say in a breath, letting his hand reach the inner side of your thigh. A finger flicks against the bottle, drawing out a trembling note, making your eyes flash though all your times here, you never saw anyone else in the gardens.

The bottle has long gone warm but his hand feels cold against your leg, you’re aware of his eyes locked on your face yet make no haste to draw yours away from the plants up ahead.

His hand begins to travel upwards, making way to fiddle with the hem, going under and his skin meeting yours.

Before he can do anything further however, you both jolt with the sudden noise coming from behind, between the windows.

“Cazzo!” he mutters and gets up, making way to enter his room through the windows.

While waiting for him, you go for the other bottle, pouring yourself some more wine, at least with a glass, you can keep count.

Pausing to listen around, you hear the commotion has died down.

Picking up the other glass and hoisting the empty bottle under your arm, you make way for the stained glass windows you’ve grown familiar with over the course of time.

Terzo doesn't seem to pay much mind to the interruption though, the conversation picks up from where it left, now talking in a more general sense.

“You give off vibes of someone who’d make a sex playlist,” you begin as he listens with a nod, “ and add your songs to it.”

“As I said gioia, everyone has their preferences.” he reaches to take the bottle from you, not expecting your arm to draw back, “yet I cannot help but be upset,” he sheds a nonexistent tear, “that you think my thrust game is so weak.”

Seeing as you freeze at his words, he takes a step to you, grabbing the bottle from your hand with a smile and places it down, not stepping back afterwards. “If you want a demonstration though, I am always happy to help.” 

As if your silence was anything to go by, now it is deafening, the warmth and flush of your skin; you’re unsure if the cause is alcohol or him .

“And I did promise a demonstration of my songs to you before, didn’t I?” he says as he takes another step your way.

“So you see, we got this fan favorite song, Mummy Dust,” he speaks while pretending to be interested in the ceiling, gesturing with a hand in the air, “but not because of the lyrics.” he remarks with a smug expression, redirecting his gaze to you as he takes another step, barely any space left separating the two of you.

You’re unsure what to say or do, when left alone in a room with a bunch of people wearing identical masks.

You think, Terzo must’ve pulled a rope here and there, or acted in secrecy considering his sudden drop of position in the band, to have gotten into this studio– and bringing you no less.

The people he referred to as Nameless Ghouls stare at you, and you back at them. You can imagine the confusion they must be going through.

Then the man of the hour reappears with a clap of hands, dressed up in an outfit resembling a suit, and his previous remark at Mr. Whiskers suddenly comes back to you, finally making sense.

A concert– or a ritual, as he put it, he promised and one he delivers.

A ghoul begins playing his guitar in sync with the drums, as two of them walk to stand at their both sides and with a sudden stomp of foot, they all play in, in a fashion you can describe as ‘ knocking the wind out of your lungs .’

Only when Terzo’s singing, and soon the instruments coming to a stop that you realize you've been holding your breath the whole time. And quickly find out you may as well die due to lack of oxygen by the time the day comes to an end if they only keep up this momentum.

One song after another, they captivate you gradually. Be it the way the ghouls play or the way Terzo moves as he sings, radiating with energy. Walking around and messing up with one another, bothering each other at times– it all creates the illusion of a found family.

Briefly moving his hand, the ghouls pick acoustic guitars once another song comes to an end.

After each song he tells its name and some information– or funny memories he finds important you know.

With a signal of his hand, the ghouls switch to acoustic guitars and Terzo begins humming: “a one, a two, three, and four.“ 

With a move of his hand, they all enter the song.

One hand in a fist, resting against his hip and the other in front of him, he sways his hips softly as he sings.

It doesn’t miss your attention how some of his moves arent as innocent or random as they seem– when he brings his other hand to join the stray one, hoisting them up in the air as if holding something, or how after he holds the microphone with one hand and violates the poor stand with his fingers. Hands thrown into the air and shaking in the air as a ta-da once in a while, he takes a step back to point at one of the ghouls’ playing.

The song comes to an end and you think you’ve done good so far– then he decides to announce that the song is called Jigolo Har Meggido and you burst into laughter, leaving the men in the room utterly confused.

It takes several minutes for you to gather yourself, wipe away the tears all the while ignoring Terzo hovering over you with concern, unsure whether to approach you or leave you be in your violent laughter.

“I’m sorry-” your words die in your throat as another wave of laughter takes over again, “it’s just-” hand clutching over your stomach, you do your best to look up, “you do re-”, meeting his face only makes you laugh again.

A tap on your shoulder distracts you a little. Taking the water bottle one of the ghouls have brought to you, in your frenzy you didn’t even realize him leaving, you take a few sips to calm your nerves.

“I know you’re flirty and all, but witnessing you calling yourself a manwhore caught me off guard.” 

Definitely not something worth laughing to that extent over, Terzo doesn’t say a word and instead flashes you a toothy grin.

“You’d be surprised to hear it was his brother who wrote this song.” you hear someone say, the same ghoul from before.

“Ah!” Terzo waves a hand dismissively in the air, “enough talk of that geezer. Now , what do you say to a grammy winning original?” 

The ghouls slowly begin as Terzo walks back, their eyes on him and his hands, watching every move and tilt, following his guidance. Compared to the other songs they’ve played so far, this one comes off much softer, gentler, making you wonder what will come next.

Raising both hands in the air as if in praise, the ghouls all stop and silence takes over, waiting, and with his signal, they enter the song, picking up stronger than where they left off.

The melody matches the lyrics somewhat, the impression of a thunder, it builds up and carries smoothly.

He begins singing what you assume to be the second verse, drawing closer to you at a steady pace. His voice becomes the only thing you hear as the instruments falter and die out, quietening one by one. The microphone now held in his left, his right hand reaches out to hold yours, bringing it up near his face as he keeps singing: “ Can't you see that you're lost without me?”

And with it, they all reenter the song with a bang, your hand still in his, Terzo kisses the back of it in between lyrics and steps back to his initial position.

Drumming his fingers in the air, swaying them at the direction of either of the ghouls, they all circle around the keyboard playing ghoul as the song shifts into an instrumental part.

Eyes never leaving theirs, especially not his, not when he makes sure to lock his with you, you watch the entire performance almost in a trance, mind going blank.

When the song ends, you can see his expectant looks on you, already beaming with whatever compliment he’s positive you’ll be giving him.

So you decide to pick the teasing route. 

“It was nice.” he stares at you, his face clearly showing he wasn’t waiting to hear that. “Nice?..”

Humming in affirmation, you nod your head. “Yeah, nice.” tilting your head to the side, you speak up, “ Say , this helps you get some?” 

The man stands there, blinking at you for what feels like eternity.

The ghouls in a similar stance, though you’re sure you’ve heard one of them snort, and another snicker.

The eternity ends with a shake of his head and a faint smile on his face. “Yes, sorella , it helps me …get plenty actually.” he uses your phrase.

“Well,” he clicks his tongue as he places the microphone back to its place, “if it’s a …meretricious song you desire, how about I give you,” his pace of speaking slows down, as if holding his breath, waiting for imaginary drum rolls: “Mummy Dust!” He drags the words in a low grumble, shaking his hands in the air once again.

From how he starts swaying and moving his hips, you immediately recognize the song.

As Terzo begins singing, the sound of a door opening and clicking close reach your ears and when you twist halfway in your seat, you see a man with pencil stache dressed up in black, his hat partially resembling a bat, same painted eyes and upper lip like Terzo yet lacking the rest of the face paint.

The man stills in place when he sees you, only gets his feet to move again when you pat the vacant spot near you.

Whispering greetings back and forth, you immediately remember his name.

“Ah you’re the Cardinal!” Your voice comes out a tad more excited than expected. The man on the other hand seems confused as to how you know him already.

“How are your rats? Happy, I hope. I am so sorry, I never got the chance to apologize to you or to them because of Mr. Whiskers.” The words leave your lips in a breath, leaving the man dumbfounded, repeating your cat’s name in confusion and unaware, 

“ah, I-, my most sincere apologies, who?..”

“Mr. Whiskers, my cat, didn't Terzo t- oh.” Unfortunately the mention of a cat before you can stop makes his eyes go wide, and you try your best to assure him that your cat didnt even set foot into his room, somewhat calming the anxious man down.

The music on the other hand, as well as the singing, gets louder and a tad more aggressive. 

Probably unhappy with how your attention was led somewhere other than him. So needy and grumpy, spoiled like a cat.

“Uh, we can save our discussing for after the song?” Cardinal suggests, to which you nod. “I'd hate to impose on this- uh, special performance his excellency was displaying for you.” He says, coughing on his words at the way Terzo moves.

“Its alright Cardinal. I was given a demonstration of this song already, I am not missing out on anything.”

Again, you must’ve said something wrong, because instead of relaxing, the Cardinal’s face tenses up and goes bright red.

“ Oh !” You wince, “poor choice of words on my behalf. That's not what I meant.” You try to offer an explanation with a sheepish smile, but to no avail. 

At least Terzo looks quite pleased with the interaction, as clear from the smug expression taking over his face.

The previous incident– goes unaddressed between the two of you but the air between doesnt waver.

Still, it must have triggered some sort of change, you conclude, as Terzo’s texting habits only evolve into a different stage.

Sure, it went for quite a while that the initial purpose of exchanging numbers was abandoned yet he still possessed control, a sense of self restraint, when texting you.

Definitely the absolute opposite of whatever it is going on as of now.

Maybe you’ve spoiled him too much, your brain reaches another conclusion as the lips on your skin snap that thought in the middle, pulling you back into reality.

You still don’t visit him as regular as to say daily, or even biweekly– so you hold onto the benefit of doubt that he has absolutely no way of knowing youre busy trying to have a nice night, focused on pleasure and the feeling of euphoria–

Another vibrating sound against your nightstand cuts into the air, your sceeen lightning up right after.

You ignore it only so far until you find yourself scrolling and typing up a reply, the light coming from the screen reflecting against you and the man you’ve forgotten about already.

As you smile at his newest text, hearing that stupid whining of his voice and the pout, someone next to you clears his throat, snapping you back.

“Anything I should know about?” He only asks and in all honesty , you cannot blame the guy. You’d have reaches into equally ugly assumptions, were this to happen to you.

But it didnt, and it isn’t right now, so its only a little too late that you put yourself in his shoes.

“Nope.” You say, walking up to your bookshelf and placing the phone screen down, “just a friend.”

The guy hums, sounding skeptical but doesn't pry.

You give him the benefit of the doubt but few too many repeats and you know it's intentional.

You did spoil him too much it seems.

Another afternoon by his side, you're sitting on the window sill, one leg tucked under yourself, he is busy on the other side of the room, who knows what he is preparing this time.

“Wine?” he turns on his heel, holding a glass and the bottle’s neck tilted slightly already. 

“None for me, thank you.” 

Eyebrows raised in curiosity, a scheming expression takes over. “Ooh? Any plans for tonight?” He inquires. You don’t need to know that he is dreading the confirmation that'll leave your lips. 

“I guess,” you shrug, turning to look outside the window, “promised Steve we’d spend the night together.”

Heavy silence spreads from your words and takes over the room. 

The teasing remarks signature to his natural charm never comes and you turn your head to see if he even heard you in the first place… or left the room before you spoke… or somehow passed out in silence as you spoke.

Your worries ease upon seeing him standing there, still, not even a muscle moved from his last position, unreadable eyes staring at you.

Only when you tilt your head towards, asking ‘what’s wrong?’ and only then he snaps out of whatever trance he was in, coughs and tried to laugh it off with a ‘ have fun’ , pouring himself a glass.

Unbelievable.

Discreetly taking a sip from his wine to distract himself doesn't do much to ease him and the now unimpressed look you're giving him makes even the wine taste bitter on his tongue. 

“Wh-“ “you are unbelievable.”

Okay, you don't just seem pissed, disappointed?, something definitely negative; you sound like it too.

“For wishing my friend a fun night?” And with a guy he has never heard you mention before– the word friend stings to say. “I’m sure Steve is a good gu-“ “ Again,” you dont let him finish, “you are unbelievable, absolutely childish and overall a great idiot.”

Okay now you're just being mean. A scowl makes its way to his face before he can even notice, making you shake your head in disbelief like a mother scolding her kids with a smile.

“If youre done with the insults cara,” he says and raises his glass, appearing pissed and upset as he downs the glass.

“Terzo, you met Steve.” His head snaps up at your words. “Steve?“ you repeat in question, “Steve Whiskers?” ‘ ring any bells? ’ He can hear you say in following–

The faint smile of yours slowly evolve in a giggle as you watch the gears turn in his head and finally connect the two and two together.

“The cat?!” His voice comes out louder than he meant to, suddenly straightening up and wiping invisible dust off his clothes, he clears his throat. 

“Excuse me for my sudden input of volume.” You reply with a smile, “Send my best regards to Mr. Whiskers.”

You see the ghouls around few more times you're in the perimeter, as well as the scary woman from before.

Sitting in the gardens with Terzo again one warm afternoon and she passes in the distance, her eye catching sight of you no doubt.

Jumping in your stead, you rush to where she is. Terzo watches as you speak with more animatic gestures, Sister remaining stoic as always. You bring a hand up to scratch your head in unease, then holding out a box of sorts. As you are about to turn, he sees your body beam , most likely at something Sister has said as she walks away.

You pattle back to where he waits, trying to contain a big smile and pulling out few cookies from behind in surprise. Just as he does with anything else you offer, he devours the cookies, making sure to express his gratitude and worship before and after.

You settle back next to him, laughing at the way he acts as he ignores the crumbs on his thighs, resting your head against his shoulder and relaxing.

Yet you never tell him what it was Sister Imperator has said to you that got you in high spirits; not then, not later.

When you wake up with the sunlight grazing your face from the wrong direction, your first instinct is to return to sleep.

Having falling asleep by Terzo's side a reasonable amount of times now, it feels just as comfortable as your room. Despite his chest not being as soft as your pillow, the comfort of his mattress easily beating yours makes up for the loss.

Just as a content smile makes its way to your lips and you, more than eager to return to sleep, the situation of now sinks in and you can feel the warmth drain from your entire body.

Sure, this is not the first time you've found yourself falling asleep here, even in his arms, limbs tangled up no less; but all those instances contain one huge difference from the predicament you find yourself in now and it is last night.

Maybe you should pretend to stay asleep until he is summoned for anything, but the chances of this are dangerously slim. The light coming from between the curtains doesn't burn into your eyes just yet so it must still be fairly early, maybe you can sneak out before he can return from the land of dreaming. But that'd would leave bigger problems for future you and frankly? future you has gotten sick of your 'dancing around with nothing acknowledged' bullshit.

You take a deep breath, and shut your eyes further– hey perhaps they'll glue themselves together from how tight your muscles are contracting and with your sudden admittance to the hospital and the emergencu of the entire situation, it'll all get forgo–

A sudden noise stops your entire thought process crashing. A trainwreck, yes that's what this is.

Sucking a sharp breathe in, you think 'now or never', suck it up once and face on with courage.

Creaking one eye open and meeting Terzo's eyes on yours, every single muscle in his face loosened and his expression what you can only describe as to be 'at peace', all your anxiety from bare seconds ago gets washed down the drain. 

And for the first time in a long while, you allow yourself to relax, fully, and bask in whatever the future– and he, along with it, will offer you.

Terzo x F Reader - Spanking, Degradation, Breeding

Thank you katfish__ on Twitter for bringing my words to life! Check out her full NSFW version here.

**WARNING for explicit content below**

One Missed Text

Summary: You haven’t returned Papa’s text! - or did you? Well either way he’s very upset with you for seemingly ignoring him, and he intends on teaching you a lesson in manners.

CW/Tags: male masturbation, spanking, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (P in V), rough sex, degradation, possessive behavior, breeding, blood, aftercare, spit kink

Word Count: 3.3K

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine’s Day, lovelies! I’m bringing back an older fic of mine from AO3 that I haven’t posted here before. I hope you enjoy it!

Poring over text, you sighed. Sister would have your head if you didn’t complete your work by Friday. You were searching for hours in the Unholy Books for references to give her on the week’s upcoming Black Mass sermon: gluttony. That was not nearly as exciting as lust – unless, of course, you were gluttonous for a slice of your beloved. Speaking of, Terzo had not returned your last text message. You were hoping for a midday romp to break up the monotony of the day’s tasks.

You were both teasing each other throughout the day, as you often did on the most boring days to keep each other entertained during the endless meetings and duties. The other Siblings would tease you when they saw your face light up. “Another text from Terzo?” they would ask, knowing full well the answer. What was the subject matter of those messages?…well, that was a secret after all.

“Please…” he had begged through text today (mixed with several undecipherable emojis) after you sent him a quick nip slip photo. “I must have you. Come to me.” That was over two hours ago.

“Name the time and place,” you responded. You saw the text bubbles indicating he was typing, over and over, until they finally disappeared. Frustrated, you tossed your phone back into your purse and continued perusing the books. It felt like forever had gone by. You picked up your phone again just to check for a notification. Nothing. And it had only been 5 minutes. He was so eager before…what happened?

…

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, Terzo was pacing back and forth in his office. He stared at his phone, no notifications staring back at him as if mocking him. He huffed and put his phone back in his pocket, and paced around some more, continuously pulling out his phone every 30 seconds.

His dearest had sent him the most salacious photo (which he immediately saved to his photo roll)…and he felt the heat rising in his trousers. Thank Lucifer he had no more meetings so he could fuck your brains out in his office.

He had responded to your last text inquiring the time and place, “Now. My office, ovviamente. Where else potrei scoparti in pieno giorno cosi forte da dimenticarti il tuo nome?” but you had not responded and he was growing more and more frustrated by the minute. Was the last text too much? Surely not; you had fucked in every scenario before – slow, fast, loving, passionate… aggressive. Maybe you weren’t feeling his assertive tone today? Oh, how he hated the increased paranoia and anxiety that came along with being in love; it drove him mad.

He opened up his camera roll, where he saved all your cheeky photos to his ‘hidden’ album. Texting the password to the album with his left hand, he started to thumb the erection forming in his pants. He leaned back in his office chair and kicked his legs up on the desk, scrolling through the photos while unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants with his right hand. He grabbed a few tissues from his desk and tossed his head back, imagining your mouth on him as he stroked himself faster and faster.

…

It was nearing 5 o’clock and you still had not heard from him. The day was over, and you decided to take up the Siblings’ offer of joining them for dinner and drinks. You headed over to the mess hall and grabbed a bite to eat, chatting with them over a pint and trying to enjoy Ghoul karaoke night (Alpha was “performing” in a series of barking and hissing). You felt a bit dejected, drowning your sorrows in French fries and lager, but tried to brush it off – figuring Terzo got busy during the day. Ever since he had been anointed Papa you saw less and less of one another.

You decided instead of feeling angry, you would reward his hard work with the best fuck he had ever received. You downed the rest of your drink to give yourself a little extra liquid courage, waved goodbye to your friends, and headed back to yours and Terzo’s bedchamber.

When you walked in, you found him leaning against the dresser, cigarette in his mouth and lighter in his hand. Just before he lit up, he caught your gaze and rolled his eyes. You hadn’t realized but your demeanor had changed as soon as you saw the cigarette, your brow furrowing in disdain.

“Come to piss on the fun again?” he huffed, shoving the lighter and unlit cigarette back into his pocket and walking into the bathroom.

“What?” you asked incredulously, following him. (“Not in our room!” you exclaimed the last time he lit one up in bed with you post-coitus.)

“See what you make me do!” He fumbled around in the top drawer of the double vanity, pulling out a nail file, and began to file his nails a little too forcefully.

You stood in the doorway and propped yourself against the doorframe.

He pointed the nail file at you. “You left me hanging today, amore.”

“Me?” you asked, still incredulous at his lack of self-awareness today. “What about you? I was waiting all day for you to tell me where to meet you.”

“Amore!” he exclaimed again, throwing his hands up in the air. His anxieties were building up in him like lava. “So I’m the problem again? I told you to meet me in my office. I waited for you all day – you see how crazy you make me? I even had to take care of this myself – ” He motioned down to his pants, a small tent already formed in his trousers.

You looked down and smiled at the sight. You couldn’t help feeling a little amused. In a way you felt powerful to have such an effect on him.

“Oh you think it’s funny, eh? Well we’ll see how you like being punished for such insolence.”

“Terzo my love, I was waiting for your response all day,” you assured him, but he wasn’t having it.

He exclaimed something unintelligible in Italian under his breath, throwing his hands into the air again then continuing to aggressively file his index and middle fingernails on his right hand. His face turned mischievous as he eyed you out of his peripheral. He turned to you and asked, “You know what this means, don’t you?”

Your face blushed instantly as you knew where his mind was headed. The arousal that had been building up between your legs all day suddenly came trickling down your thighs.

“Don’t act so innocent, amorina,” he said with a smirk. “I know you like to tease and brat, but I expected you to behave today.” He walked around you slowly, like a predator stalking its prey.

You gulped. “Check your phone,” you piped up. He rolled his eyes once more in response. You reached forward, trying to get to his pocket, but he easily swatted your hand away. “Check it!” you urged. “I would never leave you unanswered.”

He seemed skeptical but pulled out his phone and went to his messages. “Oh,” he said, suddenly changing tone. “It appears I did not hit ‘send.’”

“See?” you said triumphantly, trying to get past him to look at his screen, his futile attempts to keep you from looking failing. He tried to erase the message quickly but you read it just in time, blushing again at what he would’ve sent you.

He shook his head as if shaking off the embarrassment of his unnecessary theatrics. “This changes nothing. You should have known where to come and to obey me as soon as you saw the last message.”

You smiled at him, amused that he did not yet have the poise nor the patience that his older brothers had as head of the Satanic Church. He might’ve had a few forehead wrinkles, but sometimes he reminded you of a younger man. He certainly had the impetuousness and stamina of one.

You stepped back into the room, hooking one leg seductively over the leather armchair in the corner, exposing your upper thigh through the slit in your habit. “That’s right,” you said, running with his game. “I was so disrespectful to not heed your call right away.” You took off your veil, tossing your hair back and running your hands through it to smooth down the flyaways.

As you were busy trying to look as seductive as possible, he slid right up next to you, his hand reaching through the slit in your habit. He inhaled the scent of your hair and groaned under his breath, his hand pawing at the hem of your panties. His hand trailed against the cloth, feeling your wetness already saturating it.

“I thought of you all day,” you whispered against his neck, feeling his breath on your cheek, the smell of his spearmint gum washing over you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders affectionately.

“I can tell,” he said. His touch could be so soft and delicate – when he wanted to be – he had already snuck two fingers past the hem of your panties at your entrance. He brought his hand up his under his nose, thumbing your slick in between his fingers. He turned you around roughly and unzipped your dress in one motion. He tore the fabric off you, exposing you in nothing but your bra and underwear.

“Take them off,” he said, gesturing towards your panties. You obeyed swiftly, and tossed them to the side, wearing nothing but your bra now. As you did that, he took off his belt and kicked off his shoes. He folded his belt and snapped it, almost threateningly.

You eyed the belt from the side, your arms steadying you against the armchair. He had never used a belt on you before; you were only used to the palm of his hand, and he was usually quite gentle.

He saw the glimmer of fear in your eyes and came up behind you, placing the belt on the arm of the chair beside your elbow. “I’ll be gentle for today, amore,” he assured, slipping his hand between your thighs, teasing your wet entrance again. Instinctively, your shoulders relaxed and you sighed, relieved.

“But still you must be punished, no?” He took your chin in his free hand, forcing your face to the side, closer to his lips. You nodded in his hand, moaning slightly as his fingertips roamed around, pushing inside your entrance teasingly. “You see how horny you make me, mmh?” he whispered into your ear, groaning on the last syllable. He pressed his clothed erection against your bare ass, his cock twitching in his pants.

“Open,” he commanded, squeezing your mouth open. He gathered up a wad of saliva in his mouth and spat into your mouth, then clamped your mouth shut again. “Swallow.” You gulped. “That’s Papa’s brava ragazza. You’ll do anything I say.”

You eagerly anticipated his next move, wanting to feel his warm seed rush inside you after waiting all day for him, while simultaneously wanting him to take his sweet time antagonizing you and denying you your pleasure.

“What is my punishment, Papa?” you asked enthusiastically, hoping for him to continue using you.

“I think naughty girls deserve to get spanked by their Papa, don’t you?”

You whimpered slightly and nodded, your chin still in his tight grasp. “Yes Papa,” you feigned lament, hanging your head slack in his palm.

He released his grasp on you and withdrew his fingertips from your cunt, and you slumped over the armchair, holding yourself up by your elbows.

“You disobeyed me today,” he said warningly, palming your ass forcefully – yet still softly – massaging the area before striking again. You nodded in agreement. He cracked his belt again for dramatic effect. Crack! This time the leather hit you harder than his hand, stinging your skin a little. CRACK. You moaned louder, feeling the pain more now. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you mia piccola puttana?” he laughed, sticking his middle finger inside your cunt and feeling more wetness trickle out. He took his finger out and wiped your juices on your back before continuing.

Relentlessly he continued, spewing various obscenities at you in Italian. “Who do you belong to, whore?” he kept asking. “You, Papa!” you would shout through stifled yelps. Every few strokes he would sneak in a gentle touch to your raw skin, soothing the redness.

“You come to me when called next time,” he said. “I do not have all day to wait for some filthy slut to pleasure me. Nor do I have the time to take care of myself day in and day out.” He threw the belt to the side, opting for a more personal touch.

You whined in agreement, preparing for the next strike.

SMACK! he spanked you harder with the palm of his hand. “Mmm!” you mumbled, your flesh throbbing. SMACK! he struck you again.

“I am in meetings all day tomorrow,” he continued as if he was not ruthlessly punishing you and just striking up normal conversation. SMACK.

“Ah! Mmm – then I will be waiting for you here when you return after a long day.”

“No, you’ll be on your knees like the good little slut you are,” he said. Smack!

“But Sister will see – ah! – and anyone else in the room – ” you began but he stopped you.

“Silence!” he hissed, striking your ass once more, even harder this time. “It’s time you put your whore mouth to use and show everyone who you belong to, who you worship.”

All you could do was nod in agreement as he struck you across the ass again. Your skin was raw and aching, and you longed for a more delicate touch. Almost as if reading your mind, it seemed Terzo had ceased the punishments – for now. You peeked behind you and saw him hurriedly take off his clothes. Soon he was undressed, and soothingly caressing the red skin on your rear.

“Are you well, amore?” he asked in dulcet tones, lulling you into relaxation. “I know that was rougher than usual.” He touched your back comfortingly.

You trembled, still holding yourself up against the armchair, but nodded assuredly.

“Good,” he said, inching closer. You could feel the head of his erection prod against your thigh as he leaned in close to your ear. “We aren’t through. Are you ready to be bred like a brood mare by your Papa?”

You gasped as he took you from behind and grabbed you roughly by the hips. He pummeled into you uncompromisingly and determined. There was no graceful entry like when you usually made love; this one was a furious desperation of a man who needed carnal pleasure immediately. “Fuck – Terzo!” you exclaimed, adjusting to his length.

“Take it, whore! That’s it, Papa’s little cum rag. So fucking tight, Lucifer – fuck – cazzo!” he grunted through rough thrusts. You were that tight because he had not worked you up enough in between your punishment and his pleasure. Eventually after a dozen thrusts, you acclimated to his rhythm and pushed back into his cock when he rammed into you. That drove him wild. He cried out an indiscernible, animalistic noise that turned into a laugh. “Oh fuck – Satanas you do it so good – fuck –”

It always pleased you to hear your usually eloquent Papa turn into someone who could barely speak, all because he was inside you, bewitched. Your head spun and face flushed as he continued to pound into you, gripping your hips tighter and tighter until you could feel a warm liquid drip down the sides of your thighs. He was still going – he hadn’t cum yet…

He hastily grasped around your neck and clutched at your breasts until firmly grabbing your shoulder with his left hand, holding you tightly in place, and you smelled iron. You glanced down at your chest and saw bloody fingerprints across your skin. Sticky and metallic, the sensation hit you, making you dizzy. His right hand trailed across your thigh around to your front, smearing more blood along your side to your front.

He deftly parted your labia and circled your clit with his fingertips, mixing your blood with your cum and using it to glide over your sensitive bud.

You moaned, unable to speak clearly. You continued clutching onto the armchair for support, feeling weak at the knees. “Yes – right there – ” you muttered as he delicately fingered you while ruthlessly thrusting into your cunt from behind. You cried out in passion as he hit your g-spot and you could feel your orgasm was close.

“Esatto, ecco la mia brava ragazzina. Vieni per me, mio angelo del peccato.” As he rammed into you with precision, his breathing quickened until he was moaning your name. “Ho bisogno di te, ho…bisogno – di – te,” he stifled, cock quivering inside you.

You shuddered under him, your body trembling as you came. Your body rocked against his chest and he kept his rhythm, never breaking away from his hold on you. You cried out in ecstasy and slumped forward further over the arm of the chair, spent and breathless.

Wasting no time, he grabbed onto your elbows to pull you closer and thrust into you harder and faster. “Your cunt will be full of my seed – fuck!” he said. You yelped, wanting to relax but he drove through you to his climax, his warm cum coating your walls and seeping out onto your thighs. He groaned, finishing out his high on three final slow thrusts, until he collapsed on top of you. The both of you lay in a crumpled heap on top of the chair for a moment, catching your breath.

“Merda!” he exclaimed, pleased. He kissed your shoulder blade then got up, pulling out of you finally. He crouched down beside you and tucked your now unkempt hair behind your ear. “How is la mia principessa, hm?”

You nodded and smiled, closing your eyes contentedly but unable to speak just yet.

“Ah shit,” he said, looking you over and realizing you were bleeding from where his nails dug in too tightly around your hips. He picked you up and threw you over his shoulder and took you into the bathroom, sitting you down by the bathtub.

“Ah,” you muttered, wincing. Your rear end was still throbbing from earlier and the cuts in your thighs were stinging.

He rummaged through the drawers and pulled out antiseptic, cotton balls, and bandages. He took a washcloth from the cupboard and ran it under the tap. He knelt down beside you and wiped away the bloody fingerprints all over your body. He wiped off the wounds on your thighs with such tender care you would not have guessed he was the same man fucking you senseless just moments ago. He put antiseptic on a cotton ball and swiped your cuts.

“Ouch!” you mumbled, the stinging overwhelming for a few seconds before subsiding.

“I am sorry I got overzealous, amore. You just make me so fucking crazy.” He opened the bandages and gently smoothed them over your skin, careful not to reignite the pain.

“It’s okay, love.” You smoothed back his hair and gazed lovingly into his eyes. He glanced down at your entrance, still leaking with his cum from moments ago. “It didn’t take,” you said.

“Mm?”

“I went back on the pill last week.”

“I know, tesoro. I saw the pill pack on the counter. It is fun to pretend.” He kissed your forehead.

Italian to English Translations

ovviamente (obviously)

[Where else] potrei scoparti in pieno giorno cosi forte da dimenticarti il tuo nome? (“[Where else] could I fuck you so hard in broad daylight you’d forget your name?”)

Amore (love/my love)

Amorina (love/sweetheart)

brava ragazza (good girl)

mia piccola puttana (my little slut)

cazzo (fuck)

Esatto, ecco la mia brava ragazzina. Vieni per me, mio angelo del peccato. (That’s right, my good little girl. Cum for me, my angel of sin.)

Ho bisogno di te (I need you)

Merda (shit)

la mia principessa (my princess)

tesoro (treasure)

giving terzo a “hand” 👀

a/n: so this ended up being 1k words haha def had a fun time writing this one!. mndi! 18! it's a good ol' fashioned handjob, fellas.

The meeting has gone over and you’re desperately itching to do something other than review the budget for the upcoming tour leg. There’s a tasty swiss roll, a reward, sitting in your fridge waiting for you to gobble it up. Your knee starts to bounce beneath the table and you’re doodling in your notes, your attention far away from the conversation at hand. Something pokes into your leg, a feather light nip, so you don’t think anything of it. Maybe you bumped something. But it persists, digging further into your tights. Your gaze snaps to the man next to you — the only clergy member you know has pointy gloves. Terzo is grinning from ear to ear, his other hand propping his head up beneath his chin and his eyes half-lidded, sleepy. You shoot him daggers, a warning shot.

He completely ignores it, widening his eyes suggestively as he drags the tip of his golden nail up your stockings, the fabric tearing in a neat line up to the hem of your habit. What a brat. You squint at him, your lips pressed into a thin line to try and hide your frustration. Cooler heads always prevail, which may just be Terzo’s motto. The tips of his nails linger on your soft skin and he tilts his head ever so slightly on his hand, challenging you. What could you do? You can’t interrupt the meeting to tell everyone what he’s done. You don’t tattle, plus that would be too easy a way out of the situation he’s put you in. The chair creaks as you sit back, plotting your next move. It would have to be something just as discrete, wouldn’t it?

You rest your hand in his lap beneath the table and shy your gaze away from him. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, dropping his hand from his head and moving to grip the table. You feel him stir beneath his chasuble and you’re surprised that he hasn’t grabbed you by the wrist and put a stop to this… so you keep going, your fingers brushing along his growing length. Terzo sucks in a breath and delicately falls back in his chair, spreading his legs further. You chew on your lip, eyes feigning interest in the continued conversation on the pros of increasing the snack budget. He’s fully hard now and you give him a squeeze, causing his nails to scrape along the tabletop. You still can’t look at him, afraid that his knowing gaze will cause your undoing, your grip tightening on his cock as you give him long, languid strokes.

“ENOUGH of this!” Terzo’s voice suddenly explodes from beside you, his fist landing hard against the table. You jump in your seat and your immediate reaction is to wrench your hand away from him but his free hand quickly has you by the wrist, forcing you to stay put against his strained cock. A hush falls over the room, thick tension in the air. “You are supposed to have made the decisions prior to the meeting and now you are wasting everyone’s time, yes?” The thrill you feel as all of these attendees sit in fear of the man you’re pleasuring beneath the table is indescribable. “Va a fartate fottere!” With an angry wave of his hand, everyone stands to exit, including yourself but he immediately coaxes you back into your seat and you can tell he’s pleased with how you’ve played your part.

Soon, the two of you are alone and he claws at you, desperately needing you closer. You squeeze his length again and he hisses, baring sharp teeth as his hips buck against your hand. Terzo has you nearly on the arm of his chair, having one of his arms slipped around your waist while his other hand starts to work up his chasuble.

“No. No.” You press your hand down firmly in his lap and he groans, letting it fall and slinking back next to you.

“Bossy today, eh?” Terzo purrs and tilts his head up to look at you, his lips wet and parted with soft sounds spilling from them. You peer down at him and you can’t help but blush at the look on his face and the dark fire that burns in his eyes. Warmth blossoms in your core and you cup him through his chasuble, drawing a deep groan from him. He drags his fingers through his hair, back arching and hips rolling into your touch.

“You love it.” You whisper as you lean down to brush your lips along the bridge of his nose. “Besides, I’m allowed to be bossy after you ruined my tights.” Your mouth hovers above his. Terzo whines, desperate for your lips to connect but you keep yours just far enough away, out of his reach. You adjust your grip on him, his cock fully tented in his chasuble. Your strokes become stronger, confident, the fabric around him providing more friction with each fluid movement. His legs tense and feverish groans pour from his throat, intoxicated by your touch and craving more and more of you. Your touch is firm, greedy even, wanting nothing more than to take him all the way to the precipice as you rub your own thighs together, wetness growing between your legs.

Terzo’s hand snatches the collar of your habit, yanking you down so that he can finally capture your lips. You swallow his urgent moans, his tongue hot in your mouth as you settle your body against his, practically in his lap now straddling his waist and adding another hand to worship his throbbing cock. His body jerks beneath you, giving a rumbling groan against your lips, his nails digging into the fabric of your habit and poking through to scrape at the skin along your chest. Your own hips grind into him once, moving in time with one final stroke as he gives a blistering growl, spilling his seed into his chasuble. Sitting front row for his undoing is enchanting, seeing Papa come apart all from you touching him through his robes is exhilarating. Terzo slumps against you, his head falling into the crook of your neck, feeling the warmth of his gasps.

“I, ah, must repay you with more than just new tights.” He murmurs hotly, followed by a dark chuckle.

You certainly have something in mind.

send me a drabble request here!

infernal - terzo x f!reader - part one

art by the lovely @stainedlilac

author’s note: been cooking this one up for sometime. about 4k words. 18+! mdni! ao3 link. this will be a looooong one. if you like it, PLEASE tell me omg. tell me in the tags or send me a message please and thanks.

~~~~

Terzo is serving a death sentence. 

It isn’t like he had much of a choice.

He remembers the game night clearly. The typical arguments and accusations of cheating had subsided and it was a rare moment of fun and relaxation with his brothers.

The next thing he remembers is waking up on a gurney and gasping for air. They told him his brothers were dead. They told him they had removed his head for a photoshoot and then reattached it again. They gave him a choice: die now or take their money and never speak to them again.

Terzo lives in solitude. The mansion he was put up in is large with enough rooms to fill all of the stories of his time at the clergy, which already feels like a lifetime ago. But it is just him. Only him. He spends his days in the quiet, stewing in his bitterness of how his reign came to an end and how the clergy had pushed him aside. The longer he is alone, the more angry he becomes. 

What is he supposed to do now?

They left him with nothing. Nothing besides money, which feels like the ultimate insult.

He lets his own home fall into disrepair. Trinkets and memorabilia from his past life pile up around him until he is forced to shove it all into one room to get it out of his sight. His days are filled with nothingness. He doesn’t know who he is anymore or what he’s meant to do. The purpose he had spent his life preparing for had been ripped from him. 

He doesn’t pay his bills on time so on more than one occasion, his power is shut off or he doesn’t have warm water. He eats cereal out of collection plates that bear the name of his old band. He is never completely dressed and doesn’t shower or clean himself for days on end. 

What is the point?

One day, there is a knock at the door. An unfamiliar feeling of dread washes over him, anxiety bubbling up in his stomach as he creeps to the window. Terzo sighs deeply once he realizes there is no one at the door. He shuffles outside and stares at a brown envelope on his doorstep. The speed at which he snatches the envelope and slams the door behind him almost makes him dizzy. He manages to steady himself back at the window, his eyes narrowing as he looks to see if anyone is watching. 

Terzo tears through the envelope. What he sees sends red hot anger coursing through his veins. It’s a magazine and on the cover of it is his bloodied, severed head. He nearly rips it apart. The sight of his own father standing behind Copia, the little rat that sniveled his way to the top — 

He exhales sharply out of his nose as his eyes fall to his severed head and he runs his fingers across the cover. This was all he ever was to his father and to the clergy leadership: a prop. A puppet to push out to the masses and parrot the word they approved of and the second he had any thoughts or ideas of his own, they threw him away.

Terzo tosses the magazine on a nearby console and storms into his study, his fingers brushing through his wild hair. He can’t live like this; he can’t. It’s tearing him apart inside, twisting him into a withering husk of a person. He needs to make a change and he knows it.

He needs a new toy to play with.

He picks his head up, his eyes flickering to the closed double doors to the dining room. His life’s work is piled up and discarded there, filling him with a combined sense of longing and anger.

Terzo needs everything gone. 

***

You stare at the ad on your computer screen. It seems too good to be true. It must be too good to be true. You’ve never been a personal assistant before but it clearly states “no experience necessary for applicants”. Your fingers drift over the mousepad to the apply button. It couldn’t hurt to at least try, right? The worst that could happen is you get denied or never hear back but that is par for the course with job hunting anyway. You click apply and fill out your information, submitting the form after uploading your resume. 

You are sick of your current job working at a call center. Sure, it pays the bills but you haven’t gotten a raise in the two years that you’ve been there and your expenses have gone up. The fact that you struggle to make ends meet even with a roommate makes you spiral at least once a week. Not to mention that the job itself is soul-sucking, draining you of all positive energy so that once you are done working for the day you typically go right to bed.

You need a change. 

You don’t want to get your hopes up but it’s hard not to fantasize about what you could do if you are able to secure the assistant job. The idea of having spending money to buy takeout instead of living off cereal, oatmeal and ramen is getting you excited. Or maybe, as a personal assistant, your boss will feed you each day so you’ll be able to save money on groceries. The bar is so low for improving your day to day life. 

The thought brings an important revelation to the forefront of your mind: you didn’t know much about who the person requesting an assistant. You pull up the job posting again and read over the description. The only information it gives is in the title line of the posting (which you completely missed when applying): Personal Assistant to Golden Bachelor.

“Golden bachelor?” You say to no one at all as you google the term. You didn’t think people referred to themselves as “bachelors” anymore in this day and age. Well, it makes sense that a rich, lonely man would need an assistant to help him run his life - he’s probably always had assistants and can’t function without one. You’re not one to usually judge but when it comes to rich people they are fair game. 

You close your laptop and roll over on your bed, grabbing your comforter to cocoon yourself in. Exhaustion grips your body and the weight of the comforter starts to soothe you off into an unfortunately restless sleep. Not that you aren’t used to it.

***

Terzo is unimpressed with the applicants so far, despite the fact that it very clearly says “no experience needed” in the post he made. Also, the fact that there are so many applicants and he has to go through each individual application and read about these people and their silly jobs. 

Ugh. Boring. 

His leg bounces as skims through the applications on his laptop in the dim light of his study, reading glasses perched low on his nose. His study is practically empty besides his antique desk and chair that seemed to have come with the house. There are plenty of built-in bookshelves and cabinets lining the walls but they are all empty and full of dust. The walls are a dark blue that look black in the evening light with hardwood floors that creak with every step.

Terzo gives a sigh and removes his glasses, sitting back in his chair with a huff. This isn’t as easy as he thought it would be. He was expecting the first applicant to be a hit but when that person had nothing particularly interesting in their resume, he was feeling defeated. And then the same would happen with each of the other at least fifty he’s gone through by now. He wished he had an assistant to go through these but… well, then what kind of paradox would we be in, then?

He reaches into the pocket of his plush, purple robe for his pack of cigarettes, opens it and then brings it to his lips. Terzo presses a finger to the tip of the cigarette and it immediately lights, taking a deep, long drag of it. Coming back from the dead had its perks, especially because of whatever dark magic the clergy had used to do it. He still isn’t sure exactly what he is capable of but  he figured this little trick out when he nearly almost set fire to the entire house while trying to open the curtains in the sitting room. 

Terzo is already halfway through the cigarette, his eyes glazing over as he zones out while facing his computer. A notification pops up accompanied by a little “ding” to indicate a new applicant. He groans and rubs his eyes behind his glasses, taking another deep drag of his cigarette. 

“Un altro.” Terzo grumbles to himself. One more and then he’ll have a drink before slipping into unconsciousness, potentially on the couch in the sitting room where he spends at least half his nights. He leans forward in his seat, eyes fixed on your application after pulling it up. His tongue darts and licks his painted lips.

Your resume and application oozes desperation, so much so that he can almost taste it. The message introducing yourself is sweet, to the point and the most promising he’s seen thus far. A low growl rumbles through his chest as he copies your name and pastes it into google. He clicks the first Facebook profile to come up with your name, which may or may not be you. There’s no information on the profile other than a pixel-y profile photo of what resembles a young woman. Terzo stares at the photo for some time as he finishes off his cigarette, placing it into a golden ashtray that is almost completely full of ashes.

“Il mio topolino.” He purrs and opens a new window to reply to you, offering windows of availability for an interview.

***

It’s been days and you’re starting to think the whole thing was a scam from the start. Every time you send him when you’re available and can make it to an interview, that date and time comes and goes, and he sends a follow up asking for another time. You’re on the verge of giving up, of letting go of the fantasy of making a considerable amount of money with the potential for perks. 

That is, until there is finally a window of opportunity for the both of you. You almost turn it down at this point from being jerked around so much but the pay is just too good to pass up. You make sure to tell a few friends the address and the time of your interview so that they’ll know exactly where you are in case this is a scam and you are about to be abducted. He even follows up with you the morning of, telling you that he is looking forward to the interview so it seems like it is happening.

It takes you some time to settle on an outfit which ends up being a pair of navy blue slacks, white blouse and a pair of flats, and you put your hair up into a neat ponytail. You look at yourself in the mirror and decide that you look professional enough. 

The drive to his house is silent, by design so that you keep your focus on the interview. You’re not familiar with the area he is located in even though it is in your town. There is an old gate at the front of his driveway that is open and probably not functional judging from the state it’s in. The driveway is long and rocky, and the further you travel down it the more uneasy you feel. The house comes into view and you have half a mind to turn the car around.

It’s massive. Most of the windows are dark, complimenting the dark color scheme of the house exterior. It looks haunted. You stare at it through the dashboard window of your car, nervousness creeping up your chest. Your eyes fall to the clock in your car and it reads ten minutes until the scheduled interview time. A shaky breath falls from your lips.

To be early is to be on time.

The walk to the front door feels like an eternity and it’s hard to fight the feeling that the house is somehow watching you. The closer you get, you realize that the siding is a dark hunter green with black shingles which really contributes to the overall spookiness of the Victorian mansion. You reach the front door and take a moment to smooth out your outfit and adjust your backpack on your shoulders. Your lungs fill with air and you lift your hand to knock — but the door swings open before you have a chance to do so.

You are met with a pair of haunting, mismatched eyes. 

He doesn’t look the way you imagined. His hair is messy, sticking up in most places with some of it falling into his face. He is wearing a plush purple robe over what looks like a dress shirt and he is in a pair of black slippers. You can’t tell if he is wearing any kind of pants. What stands out the most is his painted face, sharp black paint cutting into his cheek bones and around his eyes. Despite the rest of his appearance, the paint is crisp. His eyes look weary as they look you up and down, just as you had done to him.

“You are here for the assistant job.”

A statement, not a question and a very thick italian accent.

You blink at him a few times and then hold out your hand. “Yes, sir. I have my resume here for you to review and—“

“You’re hired.” His expression is still tired and he turns away from you. “Begin cataloging and packaging my memorabilia.” He waves his hand and starts to trudge away from you.

“U-uh, shouldn’t you show me around first or something?”

Terzo spins on his heel back in your direction and starts to walk toward you. The closer he gets to you, the more you can see the wrinkles that had been obscured with his paint. His bright, white eye sparkles in the low light. You tuck your folder against your chest, a blank expression across your face. He looms over you and his eyes drift over your shoulder before he points behind. You turn your body slowly, looking to the double doors.

“In there – the dining room. That is where the memorabilia is.” 

His breath tickles the side of your neck and it gives you goosebumps. You can only bring yourself to nod slowly, trying to think of the salary that was promised in the ad and then step toward the doors. He watches you for a moment before slinking away. You hear him leave and a sense of relief washes over you as you open one of the double doors.

The dining room is a complete mess. There are half filled boxes everywhere, different fabrics and strange items littered across the floor. The dining table is covered in piles and piles of books. You close the door behind you and immediately start to think through a plan of attack. It was already after lunch so you only had a few hours to get started. This is not what you were expecting but then again, the amount you were getting paid made it worth it.

From what you could tell from rummaging through his things, he had been in some sort of spooky music group. There are posters with concert dates, ticket stubs and several different books full of photographs of him and masked men performing on stage. You think that it makes perfect sense given everything you’ve observed from him so far, especially his dramatic paint. Still, there is something darker about him - something that chills you when you think about it.

Your thoughts run wild. In the photos, he looks regal like he is some kind of prince, commanding the attention of the crowd. There are photos of women swooning, of him holding people’s hands and kissing the back of them while their faces light up. He seemed immensely popular from the size of the crowds and the interactions you’ve been able to see from rummagining. 

What happened? Did he retire? Did the band fizzle out? He didn’t seem all that old… You wonder why he is here, in this home in your town. It doesn’t seem like a place for someone of his profession or status. You carefully start to organize the tour memorabilia on the table, trying to keep like items together before diving back into another box on the floor. 

Terzo isn’t too far away, in fact he is right outside of the door for most of the time you’re working in the dining room. After every little noise he presses his ear to the door, listening to your movement. The feeling of excitement starts to warm his body up, his skin tingling as he starts to think up how he wants to play with you. It takes all of his self control not to burst in the room and scare you, just to see the look on your face. 

Oh, he wants to mess with you. He wants to see your smooth skin turn pink, to make you squeak and stutter just by lingering a bit too close to you. Terzo stifles a groan at the thought and presses his head against the door. Unbeknownst to you, you are his little mouse to chase, to tease, to bring some liveliness back to his boring life. He can’t help but scratch his nails against the door and gives another soft groan at the thought of someone giving him attention again.

He wants you now but he knows he must wait. He has to bide his time, he has to slowly draw you into him until nothing else matters to you. There’s movement from the dining room and Terzo quickly takes a step back from the door, but the sound fades and he’s left in silence. A deep sigh falls from his lips as his mind turns back to you. Even from just meeting you, he can tell that you are going to be perfect for him to prey on. 

Terzo slips out of the sitting room.

You hear something from behind the door but when you lower the box onto the table quietly, it’s gone. A shiver runs down your spine. Even with being completely alone in the dining room you can’t help but feel like you’re being watched. Maybe it’s an effect of this old house - maybe it’s haunted. You shake your head, figuring you are being a little bit too influenced by the prayer candles and spirit boards you’ve been sorting through. 

Your fingers pull at the flaps of the box, the last one from the floor for you to go through. Once it’s open, you sink to your seat and stare at the contents.

Condoms. Condoms with his face on them. Condoms that say “Popestar” and “Missionary Man”. You pick one up from the box and turn it over a few times in your hand, your mouth agape. 

“You haven’t gotten much done, eh?” 

His voice makes you jump, the condom wrapper you have been examining flinging from your hand. He watches it fall to the ground before settling his gaze back on you, a darkly amused look on his face. He must have crept in from the kitchen.

“I-I mean I just started.” You struggle to put a sentence together as you are distracted by his mismatched eyes. “Actually, I haven’t technically accepted the position yet.”

“Oh? So you don’t need the job?” The venom in his voice makes your skin crawl.

“No, no, I do — I do need the job.” There is a sick kind of satisfaction oozing from his annoyed expression. “I am just going to need to have the job offer in writing, including pay.” You almost whisper but you keep your eyes locked on his. You need that money. His lips curl into a smirk and he nods.

“I’ll have it for you tomorrow, topolina.” Terzo purrs as he leans against the table. Your eyes drift and you notice the now unbuttoned dress shirt giving way to his hairy chest. He leans down, his robe coming completely open, and picks the condom up off the floor and tosses it back on the table. “You will be back tomorrow, si?” 

“Y-yes, sir.” You realize you don’t even know what you’re supposed to call him yet. 

“Ah, bene.” His eyes sparkle of mischief and he hovers just next to you for a moment, looming over you. The tension rises in the room and you can feel your chest start to tighten. Terzo  gives a soft growl, then exits the dining room, his long robe trailing behind him. You rest your head in your hands and exhale slowly. You make a decision here and now: you’ll stick with this job until the first paycheck and then you’ll figure out whether the obvious red flags are worth the pay.

As you gather up your things, you decide to leave a copy of your resume there, just in case he wants to review it. You sling your backpack over your shoulder and grab your phone, heading out of the dining room but something stops you midstep. The distant sound of him singing fills your ears. You can’t tell what the song is but he sounds incredible. Your eyes flicker over the mountains of memorabilia as you finally get your feet moving.

He finishes singing as soon as you’ve stepped outside of the house, hovering by one of his bedroom windows to watch you get into your car. A growl rumbles up from his throat and he can’t help but run his fingers down his chest but stops just short of his briefs. He exhales slowly — he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself but the arousal he feels just from you perceiving him is too much for him to handle. 

Terzo had forgotten what it felt like not to be alone. 

He thinks about you on your knees in front of him, singing his praises, telling him how good he is before tugging at his waistband. His hand snakes down to palm himself through his briefs with a soft moan and starts to make his way to his bed. Terzo sits on the edge of it, his cock straining against the fabric of his briefs, the tip of it poking through the slit. He pushes them down and frees himself, his hard cock resting on his stomach.

Terzo thinks about you begging to taste him, begging for him to use you however he wants. His cock jumps and he takes it in his hand, lazily stroking it as growls rumble in his throat. He leans back on to the bed, his legs still dangling off the side. He could have anyone he wanted when he was Papa. People would beg him to take them to bed, to get a taste of Papa Emeritus. At the time, he felt a deep loneliness and self-loathing despite the attention or perhaps because of the attention, but he hardly ever turned it down. There was always the one moment he thought that they were there because of him, because of who he was and not because of the title he held, and that moment made it feel okay.

Terzo would take that over the loneliness he feels now.

His eyes fall shut, his lips part as soft moans fill the room. He strokes his cock more vigorously now, his thumb swiping over the tip every few strokes. He thinks of you behaving like the other siblings and ghouls that had wanted him so very badly. On your knees still, begging for your communion. You would open your mouth for him and stick out your tongue, ready to receive.

“Oh, cazzo.” He squeezes his eyes shut and gives a thundering moan as he finishes, thick ropes of cum landing on his chest and dress shirt. Terzo pants and lets his hand rest on his stomach, his chest rising and falling while his eyes drift back to the window.

He can’t wait to see you again tomorrow.

Champagne Kisses

Papa Emeritus III x Femreader x FemOC | NSFW | 3600~ words

this one is for the bisexuals!!! 🩷💜💙 happy pride month everyone :) warnings: pwp, threesome, m/f/f, fingering, pussy eating, blow jobs, pinv sex, facials, cream pies, cum eating, all the bodily fluids, unsafe sex, unnamed oc photo source here

The smooth gloss she was wearing doesn't feel much different from Papa’s grease paint you think, sucking on her lower lip until she gasps into your mouth. You had been kissing sometime now and you can imagine the mess your desperation has made of both of your faces. The angle is a little awkward, leaning over Papa where he is sitting between you at the end of the bed but you manage to work your hand between you and up her top until you can tease her nipple through the thin lace of her bra.

Papa lets out a low moan of appreciation at her reaction to your attentions as he encourages you both, his gloved fingers woven into your hair. He loves watching you like this, giving and receiving pleasure under his guidance. You pull back for a moment to catch your breath taking in her smudged make up and blissed expression. The night had barely even begun and you already had her lost in pleasure, subject to your and Papa’s mercy.

He let’s go of you for a moment reaching for the half full bottle of champagne you had been ignoring in favour of each other, bringing the neck of the bottle to your joined lips. He pours a slow stream between you, all but a few errant drops caught in your panting mouths. You follow the sticky trail down her chin with your tongue, kissing your way back up to swallow her gasping moans.

‘How does she taste amore mia?’ He whispers in your ear just loud enough for you both to hear.

‘Like champagne Papa.’ You can feel the last of the bubbles still tingling on your tongue from the mouthful you had shared and you crave more leaning in to close the space between you and capture her lips once more but his grip firm in your hair makes you pause.

‘I do enjoy champagne,’ his voice is so low you can feel it rumbling through his chest and then you get a front row seat to Papa taking his taste. He tips her head towards him until she is perfectly angled for him to capture her parted lips. A kiss from Papa is all it takes to steal the breath from your lungs and the sense from your head and it seems she is not immune either, leaning heavily on you both as Papa deftly seeks out the last traces of champagne in her mouth. Her eyelids flutter rapidly as she enjoys his undivided attention, her hand even leaving you completely to grasp his neck, the tips of her fingers digging into the hair at his nape.

A whine leaves you involuntarily, not wanting to lose both their attention completely. Papa chuckles into her mouth but doesn’t stop. He catches your eye, glancing sideways and watching your desperation build, almost daring you to act. You are unsure whose attention you want more but your mouth waters as you watch them together. Finally taking matters into your own hands you push her top up until you can cup her breasts in both hands but even the thin lace between you feels like too much. You make short work of clasps until her soft skin is bare against your hands and her sensitive nipples squeezed between your fingers and she is shuddering against Papa.

She breaks their kiss, her mouth falling slack and her eyes blinking slowly at you as you continue your teasing. She is beautiful still even with the black and grey of Papa’s paints adding to the mess on her face. You squeeze more firmly until she falls back into you with a moan, licking and sucking sloppily at your lips until you open them for her. Distractedly your hands slide to her waist until you can pull her firmly against you but another disappointed whine slips from you when the layers of clothes between you prevent you feeling her skin against yours. He squeezes the back of your neck, chasing the shivers down your spine with his fingers and drawing your attention back to him.

‘Ready for more, mie principesse?’ His intense mismatched eyes flit between the two of you, eagerly anticipating what was to come of your evening and so you take the opportunity to appreciate your Papa. His shirt is already half unbuttoned by your earlier searching fingers, never missing an opportunity to paw at his soft hairy chest. His paint is smudged, turning grey on his brow, his mouth and chin. He is handsome with his paint and without but like this he is charmingly debauched, his hair falling out from its usual perfect style only adding to the effect. You both nod and you smile giddily, butterflies of excitement and lust swirling in your stomach. It is always a thrill for you sitting on the precipice of intimacy like this whether it be with the familiarity of your Papa or the novelty of someone new like the beautiful woman joining you tonight. 

He slips his fingers under the hem of your dress, teasingly uncovering you even knowing full well that you are wearing absolutely nothing underneath. He pulls it up and over your head, leaving you bare to both of their eyes and you relish in their attention. He growls, wrapping an arm around your waist and dragging you firm against him. Your lips are captured by his and it is your turn to be devastated by only his kiss. Like always he makes your knees weak and your brain fog so when he releases you it takes you a moment to register he is speaking. 

‘Will you help our guest undress?’ He poses it as a question but it sounds like an order and not one that you feel inclined to disobey. You find your feet and help her to hers, easily divesting her of the top and bra you had already partially removed. You stroke the newly revealed skin as you strip her marvelling at how beautiful every single inch of her is. She turns her back to you so you can unzip her skirt and lift it over her head and then she is left in nothing but her lacey pants. 

Papa has lost his shirt while the two of you have been occupied and it is a test of your willpower to not turn all your attention to his now bare chest. His trousers are also undone giving him room to palm his cock as he watched you undress her. He stands, letting them fall to the floor so he can step out of them without letting go of his cock which he manages with a surprising amount of grace given his usual issues with balance. He gestures for the two of you to take his place on the bed so you do, helping her shimmy out her underwear before lying back on the soft sheets.

She is finally laid out before you and you are paralysed, unable to decide where you want to start on the feast of pleasurable possibilities. Papa’s gaze burns into your back impatiently but when all you do is trace the perfect curve of her waist he takes matters into his own hands. He comes close, his warm chest pressed to your back and his thick hair tickling your sensitive skin. He sucks on your earlobe, the barest graze of his teeth and his hot breath on your neck send shivers down your spine. His large hands wrap around your wrists guiding your hands up her body until you are cupping her breasts once more. They are soft and heavy in your hands all at once as you push them together, her fullness almost spilling between your fingers. Papa has yet to remove his gloves but you think you would like to see his larger hands on her.

‘Will you take off your gloves Papa?’ you ask reverently, catching his gaze over your shoulder. He nods and offers you his finger, seeking your help. Gently, you nip the tip of the glove so he can pull his hand free. He takes it from your teeth grazing your lip with his thumb before offering his other hand to you for the same assistance. He throws them to the side of the bed, floating to the floor forgotten and now it is your turn to guide his hands. He leans forward over her, forcing you to fold in front of him until you are forced to crawl to your knees over her. She has barely moved, quietly watching you interact with your Papa with round eager eyes, just waiting for both of your attention to fall back to her. He cups her breasts just as you were moments ago. You were right, his handsome hands fit her ample shape perfectly, her dusky nipples almost a perfect match for his olive skin.

‘Touch her amore,’ his voice soft but still commanding and you have no choice to obey. Whether deliberately or by chance he has positioned you in exactly the right place to capture her nipple between your lips but you don’t just yet. Instead you trace around his fingers with the tip of your tongue where his strong grip meets her soft flesh but before long the temptation of her pebbled nipples is too strong. With a flick of your tongue you have her arching her back, encouraging your exploration of her body. She is so sensitive, moaning as you suck and nibble on her until Papa has to shift his grip to her waist to keep her in place for you. Giving her some mercy you work your way down her body sucking and nibbling a path down her soft stomach. 

Papa follows your every move, pressed against your back. He watches your every action offering both his encouragement and his guidance until you reach your final destination knelt between her legs. He reaches around you, opening her up for the two of you to enjoy, her folds flushed pink and already glistening with arousal. You ghost a touch over her that has her shaking, swiping at her slick because you just can’t wait to taste her. The two of you moan almost simultaneously as you suck your finger into your mouth, the flavour perfectly salty sweet in a way that only a woman can be. You pull your finger out of your mouth slowly, holding her gaze and keeping her in suspense of what you have planned for her next.   

Papa continues to hold her open as you sink your spit slick finger inside her tight hole. She is so wet and so warm but you feel resistance as you stroke around carefully to find her gspot. You are definitely going to need to prepare her to take Papa’s cock comfortably and with that in mind you press your mouth to her. You lick and suck at her until she can’t decide between pressing her hips down on to your finger or up into your face even as you ignore her more sensitive spots to lavish attention on her sensitive inner thighs. 

He is still pressed closely behind you, his hard cock pressing against your ass. You want to push back against him, angle yourself so he might slip right inside you right then but you know you won’t be the first to get his cock tonight. He must sense your need though as the hand not holding your hair back from obstructing his view begins to work its way down your body. He tweaks your nipples just how you like, pulling and twisting the bars of your piercings just to the point of pain before soothing them with gently massaging fingertips. His hands drift lower until he cups you firmly, his palm hard against your clit making you ache.  

‘If she is as wet as you amore mia she must be ready for me.’ He whispers in your ear kissing sloppily at your neck. His fingers dip inside you feeling out how turned on you are right now and not being disappointed. He pushes his hips against you in time with his fingers, you hope imagining how easily he might just slip inside you right now as you were not a moment ago, but it still is not the time as much as you might both wish it. 

‘Almost Papa.’ You don’t want to keep him waiting longer then you must so you slide a second finger alongside the first. ‘She is so tight,’ you say with a groan picturing what she was going to feel like around your Papa.  

‘She is going to feel so good for you.’ His cock twitches against you as you speak so with a few more careful stretches you pull your finger from her. He helps you back to your feet and you use the new leverage to position her hips right at the end of the bed exactly where Papa will want her. You climb up onto the bed, kneeling over her and she grabs your ankle to ground herself. You offer her a smile and give her one last kiss before getting into position. 

‘Look at you both,’ he moans. He stands at the foot of the bed stroking his cock slowly as he takes you both in. ‘Such a tasty treat for Papa eh?’ He steps closer bringing his dick level with your face. 

‘Will you get me ready as well amore mia?’ he asks with a wink. Part of you wants to just swallow down his length in one go but the other part of you wins, smoothing your hand over his hairy stomach, fingers catching in the thickness as he continues to stroke. You have always loved his tummy, supporting him through his initial discomfort with his post retirement body. In your eyes he was always perfect but the main benefit to his rounded tummy was there was even more of him to love and worship. 

You drag your hands downwards, taking over his stroking. He is thick in your hand and so hard you swear you can feel the thud of his pulse. You stroke him once, twice, three times before bringing the head of his cock to your lips. Filling your mouth with saliva you open up to him and he needs no more encouragement to sink into the wet heat of your mouth. It is difficult to only concentrate on the job at hand with him hot and heavy on your tongue but you do your best coating his length with spit so as to ease the way for both him and her. He pulls out reluctantly leaving your mouth empty and watering but the pulse of arousal you feel as he lines himself up to her entrance and pushes in with little to no resistance makes it all worth it. 

He sinks into her heat so slowly, inch by controlled inch, her thighs shaking from the maddening pace. You can’t help admire his restraint even as you marvel at how her body stretches to accommodate him. He pulls out just as slowly setting what must be an infuriatingly steady pace. You match him stroke for stroke, lapping at her clit as he rolls his hips in the way you know grinds the head of his cock perfectly against your inner walls. His hardness looks incredible sinking into her wet heat and you can’t resist the enticing wetness gathering at the base of his cock with every thrust. So you don’t, ignoring her clit in favour of feeling with your mouth where she is stretched around him the blend of their arousal making you almost drunk with lust. 

He slips from her, gripping his erection and offering you a proper taste. You open your mouth wide, sinking down his length as slowly as he was thrusting into her pussy only a moment ago, lathing him with your tongue in order to taste every drop. With a final swallow you take all of him, your nose buried in the soft hair at his base, luxuriating in the smell and the taste of him but sooner than you like he is pulling back leaving you empty and yearning for more. 

‘Amore, we shouldn’t leave our guest unattended,’ he chides you, but you need little encouragement to return your attention to her swollen clit. He sinks back into her as you swirl your tongue around her in apology for leaving her neglected and although she is incapable of words right now you take her broken moans and her panting hotly against your thigh as acceptance. 

He finds his rhythm, fucking into her with short hard strokes that you know have her seeing stars so you try to match him. Sucking on her steadily and flicking her with your tongue every time he bottoms out inside her until her moans turn to sobs beneath you. Her body starts to tense, writhing as her release begins to build inside of her. You grip her hips tightly keeping her still and Papa’s thrust start to build momentum, the slapping of his hips forcing you lean back and give him the room he needs to fuck her properly. You find her clit with your fingers now, trying to keep pace with Papa’s more frantic thrusts but it only takes a few more strokes before her body goes taught and she cums on his cock. You watch her pussy clenching around him as he grunts above you, fucking her through it until the wave of pleasure subsides. 

‘Fuck, I am going to cum amore mia,’ he groans as his rhythm begins to stutter. He pulls out of her spasming hole, fisting his cock frantically. The head glistens with her juices and his pre cum and makes your mouth water and you watch mesmerised as the head seems to swell and his balls twitch up as his climax approaches. His eyes flit between your face and her used pussy and you can guess that he wants to paint both of you with his spend. You drop your head and open your mouth just in time because with a final grunt he cums. 

Thick spurts splatter over your face and her pussy, over and over. He pants, squeezing at the base of his cock milking that last drops directly into your mouth. You close your lips around him as he starts to soften, lapping at his slit and suckling his tip until it begins to recede back into his foreskin and protect him from over sensitivity. You let his dick drop free from your mouth falling heavily against his thigh and he drops to his knees almost instantly and pulls you into a deep kiss. He wipes your face free of his cum, kissing you soundly once more before backing away slightly with a smirk. 

‘Shall we clean her up,’ he asks but you beat him to it, licking at the mess covering her clit, only pausing to watch her twitch in pleasure. She doesn’t protest so you continue carefully, Papa joining you with a moan as he dips his tongue into her used hole. When the last of his cum is cleared you begin to sit up but he holds you a moment longer, pulling you into a slow sensuous kiss even as your faces are sticky from both of their juices. He pulls back when he is finished, eyes fond even as you try to imagine the mess you must look right now. 

You climb off her, sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling oddly satisfied despite the ignored heat burning in your core. Leaning over her you smooth back her hair where it sticks to her forehead with sweat and drop a kiss there, then her cheeks and her nose until she is giggling underneath you. Together you crawl to the head of the bed where Papa is waiting, watching you again fondly and the three of you collapse into the soft pile of pillows with you sandwiched between them. 

He manhandles you, turning you until you are facing her and he can spoon up close behind you. They are both exhausted, her eyes half lidded as she smiles at you lazily and tired waves seem to roll off him even as he runs his hands lazily over your skin. 

‘You have been very good to us tonight, amore mia,’ he murmurs against the back of your neck. His warm breath makes your hairs stand on end and you can’t help pressing back against him. His cock twitches valiantly where it is pressed between you but it is more a token reaction. Instead his hand slides down your thigh lifting your leg and encouraging you to hook your knee over her hip. 

Your core is entirely open for them, the air feeling cool against your overheated skin. She reaches for you first with her nimble fingers teasing your clit as she distracts you with a kiss. Your whole body shudders with it, eager for every touch after having waited so long. Then you feel his fingers at your entrance. He pushes two fingers into you, the build up of your slick easing the way until they are buried to the knuckle. His crooked teeth find your shoulder, teasing at a harder pressure just how you like so when he begins to stroke your gspot unrelentingly you find yourself quite trapped between them. 

They aren’t quite in sync, lacking the experience you and your Papa have but their off rhythm means you can grind your hips back and forth with them until your mind is almost lost in an infinite loop of pleasure. He guides her to your nipples somehow knowing exactly what you need to tip you over the edge, directing her how to use her teeth to drive you to distraction. The feeling is overwhelming, forcing you closer and closer to your climax until you are dangling by a thread. 

Everything seems to speed up while seemingly happening in slow motion so when he grazes your nape with his teeth and she tweaks your nipple just so and he tap tap rubs at your g spot and she squeezes your clit between her fingers it all narrows down to one spot in your core. For a moment it's like all your senses go numb and then it is exploding like fire and ice coursing through your nerves all at the same time. You feel it through your whole body from the palms of your hands to the soles of your feet and then your mind goes blank.  You don’t remember much after your orgasm, the pleasure so intense after such a build up. When you come too you find yourself dozing in your Papa’s arms with her curled against your chest and you can’t remember ever feeling so content and satisfied is all that crosses your mind as you fall back to sleep.  

P.s if there are typos I will fix them in the morning

For the kisses prompt...#11 with Terzo and Reader 💙

Oh you read my mind Oak I was hoping someone would request this one with my boy 💜

11. Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter.

From the 50 types of kiss prompt list (send me one 😊)

The first thing you notice is how comfortable you are. The once cool silk sheets had warmed during the night keeping you cocooned in the scent of incense that hangs around him. It must be early because all you can hear is the birdsong outside the windows, no sounds yet drifting from the kitchens, always the first part of the ministry to come to life. So you allow yourself to linger in that place just between waking and sleep as you turn your attention to your companion finally. He is warm behind you, not quite pressed close but you can feel his presence in the arm slung over your waist and the rhythmic huffs of air fanning across the nape of your neck. 

You luxuriate in the moment of relaxation and as you creep closer towards wakefulness there is only one thing on your mind. You keep your eyes closed so the filtered light doesn’t bring you any closer to waking. Slowly, carefully you turn over in his arms trying to keep from disturbing him but you fail as he begins to stir against you. He hums, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as his arms tighten around you pulling you close against him. 

The first kiss hits his chin and you giggle quietly and feel his lips pull into a smile against your nose. The second, he moves down as you move up missing each other once again and you meet his nose and feel as much as hear his snort of amusement against your chin. His hands find your face cupping your cheeks and holding you still as he kisses his way up from your chin to the side of your lips and then finally hitting the place you wanted them all along. It is a slow chaste press but as you sigh in relief finally having him where you want him, he takes your bottom lip between his sucking gently turning your pleasured sigh into a gasp. He presses his now open lips to yours, his tongue teasing your lip tentatively before you open your mouth fully and meet him halfway. It is languid and smooth as he pulls you even closer until your whole bodies are intertwined. There is a building heat in your gut that you sense reflected in him but there is no urgency, not this morning. He pulls away abruptly, stifling a yawn sparking another round of giggles from you as you bury your face in his bare chest. 

‘Does it have to be morning yet cara?’ His voice is still rough and low from his rest.  

‘No Terzo, lets go back to sleep.’ He presses one last kiss to your hair before you feel him settle back against the pillows. 

‘We will continue this later, si?’ He slurs already falling back to sleep. Instead of answering you press a kiss to his chest, settling properly against him and allowing yourself to be lulled back to sleep yourself to the sound of his slowing steady breathing.

Breathe With Me

I wrote this to overcome some anxiety. It's been sitting in my drafts for like 3 days. I hope it brings comfort to someone <3

Content: 1.5k words, Terzo x f!reader, SFW, only mild nsfw i guess since naked cuddling happens, anxious reader, soft terzo, co-regulation, breathing techniques, no beta we die like sister imperator.

Mornings like this are a love-hate. 

Love; because your gorgeous bambino, your rock, your Terzo, is sprawled by your side. The two of you have shared a shower, and breakfast, but ultimately have ended up back in last night's sheets—limbs tangled and naked bodies warmed, pressed so tightly together in your sleep-haze and exhaustion. 

You would love it more if you didn’t feel the sickly, tight sensation that slowly bloomed once more when your head and body synced up. As fast as you try to run from it, to fall back into slumber, it's no use. It’s going to be another horrid day.

That is the hate. The anxiety has lingered for days, ebbing and flowing, with no real signs of stopping or slowing down. When you think it's getting better, it envelops and drags you into its depths again. Some days you can’t even move. Some days, you don’t want to.  Yesterday had been marginally better, but for whatever reason today, it's back with a vengeance and you can’t bring yourself to move from the bed. The whole room smells of musk and the warmth of sleepy bodies. It should be perfect. Any other morning it would be. Maybe you’re ok with bedrotting a bit today.

The previous night had been the worst of it. Your stomach had been aching with the need for food, but the idea had been about as appealing as drinking from the sea. You hadn’t even been sure you could’ve kept anything down, aside from water, and Terzo; wonderfully, sweet and ever-patient Terzo had been there at your side—understanding, listening intensely while you wept in his arms, offering tender strokes through your hair and hushed coos of affections.

It wasn’t often you got like this, but when you did, you knew at least you could fall onto Terzo. 

You trust Terzo. He is your rock, your anchor. You don't need anyone else. 

Your heavy lids flutter, barely cracking up to gaze at the ceiling above before closing again. A sigh leaves you, heavy with a sensation like you’re breathing out smoke. It’s as if a thick layer of tar is coating your lungs, making it hard to catch your breath. You can't catch a full breath. You haven’t been able to for days. No matter how you try to silence the voice in your head, bury those thoughts behind a green-tinted haze or the company of your fellow Siblings, it is utterly useless.

Beside you, Terzo shifts. Your amore. Your everything. You cringe a little, your eyes fluttering open when you feel the brush of soft fingertips across your forehead. You’re on your back, hands curled close to your chest and equally as naked as he propped up beside you. 

The soft orange of the rising sun streams in through the blinds, haloing his dark head of charming, sleep-dishevelled hair. His bangs fall around his mismatched eyes, brushing the tops of his paintless cheeks. He’s scanning you for your tells, to make sure the touch is not too painful or unwarranted as he brushes back your hair against his lush pillows. You don't have the voice, currently, to tell him how much his warmth is desired. He has an almost magnetic way of grounding you from little more than a mere touch. 

“It is back today, yes?” He whispers, propping himself up more comfortably beside you, keeping himself pressed close. 

You nod, the best you can. Words are tangled in your throat, wrapped around your tongue, thick, foreign and sharp as barbed wire when you swallow. Terzo clicks his tongue in a soft tut—not to scold you, you know well enough by now the sounds of his frustrations when he knows he cannot physically remove the affliction that burns you. 

When he cups your cheek, you slide a hand from where it rests on your stomach and press the back of your knuckles to his chest. The dark hair that furs his skin from his breast down the swell of his stomach is soft, flecked charming silver—your personal pillows that you take great pride in resting on in quieter evenings, much to Terzo’s delight. 

Beneath your knuckles, you feel his heart beating a slow, steady rhythm. You like to rest your head there, knowing he’s as steady as a reed in a hurricane. 

“Tell me where it is today, amore,” his husky, Italian accent curls around your words, making you shiver. “In your body. Show me where you feel it. Let me help you, sì?”

You take his hand from your cheek, worldless and a little shaky, pressing his palm to the centre of your sternum between your naked breast. Your own heart is thumping, not fast or frantic, but heavy like a lead weight. You know the signal, your body is screaming that something is wrong but there’s no adrenaline, just a heightened sensitivity that you feel thrumming through your entire body. It hisses in your bones, heats your skin and makes you feel sweaty without the dampness. But nothing is wrong, really, it’s just a build-up of stress, anxiety—of being in your own head that’s made it like this. You hate your own awareness, at times. 

Terzo’s large palm flattens over your skin, and he knows what you’re asking for without you even having to voice it. You press closer, closing your eyes, and letting out another shaky breath. Terzo hums a soft, encouraging noise and curls around you, weaving his legs with yours and your breathing hitches. You would crawl inside his ribcage and make your home there if you could. To be nestled so close to his heart that beats for you. 

“Easy, easy,” he croons, stroking your hair with his other hand. “That’s it Amore. I am here, my sweet. Listen to my voice, sì? Just focus on your breathing.”

Your bedrock. Your love. You trust him. Again, you nod. You know this. Co-regulation with breathing, a firm hand applying needed pressure or a tight squeeze in a hug. While it won't fix the problem entirely, you’ve come to learn its pros with Terzo’s help. You’ve hugged yourself plenty of times, wedged yourself in a tight space just to feel the squeeze. 

“Bene, bene,” Terzo soothes. “Proprio così, tesoro mio.”

He then applies a gentle pressure, light enough to not hurt you, but enough that you feel it through to your spine. It immediately radiates through your body. 

“Now breathe,” he tells you in a whisper. 

You breathe. 

In. 

Hold for five. 

Out again.

You repeat it, eyes shut tight when they prickle. Terzo’s plush mouth grazes your forehead and soft words in Italian—encouraging and low—spill from his mouth. 

You breathe in. 

Hold. 

Count to five. 

Out again. 

You don't know how long you keep it up for, and the gravel of sleep in Terzo’s voice lulls you into something like relaxation. You feel his thumb swipe over your skin, in the dip of your chest. The pressure is intimate, so close to your heart and needed. You breathe. Slow. In. You feel the air fill your lungs and hear the air leave you. Out. 

Slow. 

In. 

Out. 

—

You wake, slow and groggy. When exactly you fell asleep you’re not quite sure, but your head lulls against the lush mound of pillows. The sun is higher now, its rays more white than gold. You blink in your wake, watching the tiny particles still in its rays. You sigh, heavy, exhausted. You could easily go back to sleep. 

But you don’t. Not when the smell of fresh cornetti and sweet syrup goodness tickles at your nose—that must’ve been what roused you. 

When you hear soft footballs padding to the door, you turn your head just in time to see Terzo stepping through, dressed in one of his purple cotton robes and carrying a golden tray that has a plate on it. There’s a stack of cornetti’s and a small dish of jam on the side.  

“Ah, good afternoon, amore,” he greets you as he rounds the bed to your side. “Are you hungry?”

You move to sit up, letting him halfway. You rub your head, put a hand over your groggy features and blink at him. 

“You made cornetti’s?” You say dumbly, watching him, your voice is gravelly with little usage over the past two days.

“Of course I did,” Terzo purrs as he sits beside you by your hip, his bare face lighting up and his duo-chrome eyes blinking slowly. “How are you feeling?” He then asks. 

You take a moment and close your eyes, searching through your body. It’s still there, though much smaller. It’s easier to breathe and you don’t feel sick anymore. 

“Better. A lot better. Thank you,” you manage.

“Bene. I’m glad to hear that, amore.”

You lift your chin and catch Terzo’s eye. He holds the tray out for you to take it with a little wink, and you do, gratefully. 

“And don’t worry,” Terzo continues, dramatically. “I won’t be absolutely distraught if you don’t eat them all.”

You laugh at his teasing and flush. You’re naked, about to cornetti’s in bed. It shifts the weight that’s been pressed into your stomach. 

You are grateful for his understanding, his patience and his love. It’s all you need. You don’t need anyone else but him.

masterlist ⛧ Ao3

a burden shared // papa emeritus iii x reader

“I cannot imagine the pain you’re in,” he says, his hushed voice shaking with emotion.

You're not sure of the last time you spoke, and it's reflected in the brittle croak that comes from you.

"A lot."

Terzo's hand slips from your cheek to your chest, resting over your heart, feeling the erratic beat beneath his fingers. “Let me carry it for you,” he whispers. A gentle request, but a firm one. “Just for a little while.”

1.3k words, sfw, tw grief // read on ao3

tee hee

“delicate touches”

❤︎ synopsis — some awful experiences have left you broken and undesired… that all changes when terzo offers a new way to feel that love

pairing: papa terzo x fem!reader

theme: smut ❣︎ , fluff ✿

a/n: an anon sent this idea in my inbox and i liked it so much i had to write it as a fic. enjoy my lovelies~

the original ask is here.

cw: nsfw content. p in v. vaginal sex. unprotected sex. dirty talk. pet names (italian names included cuz terzo). praise kink. slight bondage. fingering. creampie. terzo being a loving and caring man <3

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“ah, you mean to tell me you don’t find it appealing at all?” terzo asked the woman sitting across from his table, she just nodded and gently sipped the cup of tea in her hands.

“nope, it’s just not for me.” y/n replied while setting the cup down on the table, enjoying the calm and quiet atmosphere of the ministry’s garden.

she had been well acquainted with the church for a while as a sister of sin, so she’s been around long enough to get to know everyone, including the current papa emeritus, terzo.

y/n had been invited out for a small hangout with terzo, just talking about nothing in particular, until terzo brought up the topic of sex.

she didn’t know how the topic came up, really they were just talking about random things. but it’s not like she was grossed out our anything, y/n was just happy to be spending her time with terzo.

“also i’m kind of… inexperienced too. i’m no virgin by any means, but i just never really experienced it all that much to really understand the appeal.” y/n added on, keeping her hands on her lap while terzo just nodded along.

“i see…” the satanic pope hummed, quietly assessing the sister’s words before speaking again. “i hope you don’t mind me asking, piccolina, but why is that the case? i expect a fine young woman like yourself to be wanted by many people.”

terzo’s words were not hurtful or judging, but rather expressing genuine curiosity with a slight hint of concern. the sincerity in his tone was enough to make y/n’s cheeks blush faintly, but nevertheless she stayed composed.

“bad experience with other people.” she said, her tone almost sounding saddened, but she kept herself in check. “i’ve only ever slept with two other men. however, one of them just seemed disinterested and the other one ended up harming me, only thinking about his pleasure instead of mine.”

terzo let out a soft, almost sad sigh at the sound of it. he didn’t like hearing that. to think a beautiful and gracious young woman like y/n, would be treated so carelessly like an object in bed. it didn’t sit well with terzo, and it made him upset, but he didn’t dare to show that to the sister.

“that’s terrible, cara. it’s unfortunate that you ended up sleeping with such sad excuses of human beings.” the emeritus said, his voice almost turning into a bitter hiss. that caught the attention of y/n.

terzo was always known for being a gentle and caring man, always watching out for his ghouls, siblings of sin and his brothers. however, he seemed awfully bothered by this fact for some reason. y/n didn’t quite pick up on it… but the sight of seeing terzo being so careful and mindful of her well-being.

it was nothing like how those previous men treated her in the sheets.

“please do not worry, papa terzo. it was a long time ago, it barely bothers me now.” the sister insisted, trying to reassure terzo it was okay.

she was lying through her teeth though. truth to be told, she was greatly bothered by it. the people around her have always talked about their sex life and sexual experiences like it was the most magical thing ever. how the closeness and intimacy of it all was a feeling like no other.

it almost felt surreal to her.

she just wished she could relate to them.

a deafening, almost discomforting silence hung between the two of them now, neither one saying a word. as y/n was about to speak, terzo beat her to the punch.

“i’m going to be blunt with you, cara.” terzo started out, before continuing on.

“i don’t want you thinking sex is as mundane and uneventful as it is in your mind. it can be wonderful… a truly magical experience that expands beyond pleasure.”

his hands slowly found their way to y/n’s hands, gently taking them and faintly tracing shapes and patterns into the palm of her hand. her eyes widened and she blushed, but she didn’t pull her hand away.

terzo’s hands were so gentle…

“terzo…” y/n trailed off, feeling both flattered and conflicted.

“i want to change that for you.” terzo admitted, his tone fully serious. “those men weren’t the ones for you. they won’t be able to give you pleasure like i can. please, tesoro… let me show you.”

y/n’s breath hitched at the mere suggestion of it. to think that a papa like terzo would be doing this for her?!it made her heart race… how could she accept something like this? she wanted to… but she was scared.

and yet, her heart was still beating a little faster.

terzo noticed that the girl was stunned, so he kept on speaking in a more soft tone.

“i promise i’ll be gentle. i’ll even throw in some exciting things here and there to make it memorable… you deserve it. because no one, especially you, should be treated so horribly in bed.”

satan dammit, his words were so suave and charming. that was just terzo’s natural charisma getting to y/n. not only was the offering tempting, but it was an opportunity to finally experience what she’s been missing out on.

even if it scared her a little bit, she was willing to take that leap.

with a shaky sigh… she nodded at terzo. “alright, i’ll do it with you.”

terzo wore a delighted and slightly shocked smile, satisfied with the answer. he gripped y/n’s hands a little more firmly before whispering into her ear.

“then let’s take this to my bedroom. shall we?”

❤︎ —

it all happened so fast.

from heavy and steamy kisses, to stripping down every piece of clothing ‘till nothing was left, y/n found herself in quite the predicament.

squirming against the red rope that bound her wrists together on terzo’s bed frame, while letting out breathy, but heavenly moans; y/n was in a state of bliss, feeling quite pleasured from his terzo’s fingers were slipping in and out of her wet entrance.

“mmmh… that’s it, dolcezza … you’re doing great..” terzo whispered sweetly into her ear, staying on her side as he thrusted his fingers inside of her tight hole, being precise with his movements, and hitting all of the sweet spots that had y/n’s legs shaking.

the red rope binding her wrists together was rather secure, but it wasn’t tight. it only added more to the lust brewing within y/n as terzo thrusted his fingers into her puckered hole, brushing against her sensitive nerves and making that slickness between her legs more wet.

“hnnngh… i-i didn’t know you could make someone— ahh~ feel so good with just your fingers…” the sister managed to choke up through her choked up moans. terzo only let out a seductive chuckle and curled his fingers inside of her, making y/n squeal when she felt the tips of his fingers brush against her g-spot

“ahh you have no idea, cara… ohh~ i can make you feel so much better than those dirtbags..” terzo whispered, but it was mostly to himself. he knew it was true; he could definitely make y/n feel better than her past two, unlucky experiences.

the third emeritus wanted to make it special for y/n. he wanted it to be meaningful instead of just mindless sex. that feeling of pure euphoric bliss and overwhelming pleasure is something that terzo felt y/n deserved; especially because she was so beautiful.

ah least to him, she was that beautiful.

terzo continued to thrust his fingers in and out as he fucked y/n’s puckered, slick hole. he was moving his fingers in a scissoring motion to hit all of those sensitive nerves, and he hit a particular spot that had y/n’s legs shaking.

“oh my,” terzo breathlessly muttered out, noticing how her legs were twitching. “i hit your sweet spot, didn’t i?”

y/n nodded to confirm his words, and her voice was raspy with need and desperation. “yes. keep moving them there, please.”

terzo hummed to indicate his agreement, and he started to thrust his fingers more harshly inside of her, hitting that sweet spot. the pope craned his head to bury itself against y/n’s neck as he planted kisses across her flesh, sucking on the skin and littering hickeys all over her skin.

y/n just whined and instinctively writhed against the rope holding her wrists together, feeling her soaking wet walls clamp around terzo’s fingers. she couldn’t help it, he was moving them in such a good way, and the sounds sounded so erotic; but it only turned y/n on even more.

she has never felt like this in her entire life… but maybe this experience will give her a new perspective on sex.

“fuck you’re so tight around my fingers, dolcezza.” terzo cursed breathlessly, being sure to hit all of those right areas inside of y/n while she panted and whined heavily. “so wet too… ahh~ you’re such a good girl.”

that seemed to make the slickness between her legs more intense from that pet name, and terzo took notice of it quickly, smirking seductively.

“you like it when i call you a good girl, eh?” he teased, and the sister tried to look away to hide her blushing face.

“d’awww.. don’t be shy… there’s nothing to be scared of, cara.” terzo purred softly into her ear, continuing to finger y/n while he whispered sweet nothings to her, leaving tender kisses across her cheek and jawline.

“my good… good girl… taking my fingers so well…” terzo praised, sliding his fingers in deeper.

“t-terzo…” y/n croaked out more loudly, her legs twitching more from how terzo moved his fingers in such an experienced way.

suddenly, the pope pulled out his fingers. y/n whined from the feeling, her walls clenching around nothing. terzo’s fingers and y/n’s wet pussy left a trail of her glistening juices connecting to each other, and terzo moaned at the sight.

“fuck that’s hot.” he rasped out with a lustful tone, and he moved to lick his fingers— getting a taste of y/n’s juices.

taking out his fingers with a pop sound, terzo looked down at the sister and smirked, before gently moving his hands to her inner thighs and pushing them apart slightly.

“spread those pretty little legs for me, i’m going to fill you up now.”

she didn’t even think twice and nodded to terzo’s words, opening her legs for terzo to have access, and exposing her gaping, slick hole to the pope, and he could feel himself getting even more hard from the sight.

“satan above, tesoro. you’re such a turn on.” terzo whispered underneath his breath, praising y/n’s figure like she was a forbidden angel sent from the heavens themselves.

terzo was quick to undo the fly on his pants, pulling his boxers down with them, letting his hardened cock spring free from its restraints. y/n’s gaze was locked onto terzo’s girth, and she didn’t think she wanted him inside of her more than ever now.

is this what feeling lust was like? what it truly was supposed to be? because if so, y/n wouldn’t mind experiencing it over and over again.

“please, terzo.” y/n practically begged, her voice as quiet as a mouse. “put it inside of me.”

terzo’s eyes widened with delight, and he quickly smirked. he shimmied his hips closer to y/n’s, grabbing one of her legs and putting it over his shoulder while one of his hands firmly gripped the soft flesh on her thigh.

“with pleasure.” he grunted out. aligning the head of his cock to tease her wet entrance, terzo pushed himself inside of y/n. the sensation of y/n’s vaginal walls clenching around the hardened shaft was enough to make both of them gasp loudly from the pleasure.

“a-ah! fuck!” y/n choked out. she wasn’t used to the penetrating feeling, considering her previous experiences. but terzo made it feel so fucking good. “you’re so big…”

“shit. you’re tight.” terzo gasped out between breaths, keeping himself still inside of the sister, letting her adjust to his size before he started moving.

y/n was squirming around slightly underneath terzo, accommodating herself to his size, despite the difficulty. the pipe brought his head down to y/n’s lips and started to make out with her passionately, distracting her from the feeling of his dick being buried deeply within her pussy.

After a bit of deep kissing and tongue dancing, the two of them parted lips, a trail of glimmering saliva connected between their mouths. the thread of spit cut off, and their hips were still pressed together tightly.

“i’m going to start moving now.” terzo breathed out, and y/n just nodded.

his hip thrusts started slow and sensual. terzo’s cock was stretching out y/n’s pussy hole so much, but it burned in the most pleasurable way possible. the last time this happened, the guy was going too fast for y/n to even feel good.

but terzo wasn’t just thinking of himself. he was also thinking of y/n, and of her pleasure.

it only made the heat pooling at the core of y/n’s stomach much more intense.

“l-lucifer fuck yes, terzo… don’t stop..” she silently begged, moving her hands to dig her painted nails into her boss’ back, and terzo whined from the feeling.

“no way in hell am i stopping.” terzo moaned out, slowly moving his hips a little faster. “not when you feel this good, my love.”

terzo kept on thrusting at a reasonable pace, keeping his movements precise, before he slowly started to speed up a little more. the pope was pounding into y/n’s tight little hole like it was the last cunt he’d ever get. she was so tight around him, it felt so fucking good.

and y/n seemed to be thinking the same thing. her moans slowly got louder as terzo thrusted more, to the point where her noises sounded borderline pornographic. but that didn’t faze terzo at all. in fact, it just made him move faster.

“t-terzo! terzo please!” she cried out in pure ecstasy, the overwhelming waves of lust, pleasure and arousal clouding y/n’s mind.

“f-fuck you’re clenching my cock so well… y-yes just like that, tesoro..” terzo grunted out, keeping one of y/n’s legs over his shoulder as he thrusted into her. “such a good fucking girl for me.. taking my dick so well.. i’m sure those other men can’t make you feel as good as i can, eh?”

terzo was right. those other men y/n slept with couldn’t even compare to how good the third emeritus was in bed. they never watched out for her like this, never made her feel such sensations that had both of their bodies trembling.

she would love to do this again with terzo.

the red ropes binding y/n’s wrists together rubbed against her skin as terzo slammed into her at a rougher pace, making her body shift against the mattress and the bed creak. his cock was rubbing against all of the right spots in her cunny, causing little spurts of her juices to spurt out as she neared her climax.

“n-nngh! t-terzo i’m so close! h-hahh!” y/n whined out, her legs tightening around terzo’s waist.

“g-good… i’m going to fill you with all of my cum it’ll still be dripping out of you after weeks.” terzo groaned out dirtily, his movements getting more frantic as he also was nearing a release.

his thumb moved to rub against y/n’s clit at a quick, yet punishing pace, making her hips jerk forward and her head be thrown back as she screamed terzo’s name.

cum spurted everywhere out of y/n. her cunt clenched tightly around terzo’s shaft while she came all over his dick. the sticky liquid shot out like a jet and she was still twitching during her release.

meanwhile, terzo followed suite. ropes of thick, hot cum came bursting out of him, filling up y/n’s hole as he painted her insides white. there was so much in his load that even some of his essence was trickling out of her hole.

soon after, both of them were left panting heavily on the bed, terzo’s arms barley holding his body up as he hovered over y/n’s breathless figure. slowly, he pulled out of y/n’s pussy, making her whine from the feeling of emptiness that engulfed her.

terzo then slumped down onto the bed next to y/n, and gently pulled her into his arms, caressing her hair softly while cuddling. despite her body still twitching from the aftershocks of sex, y/n still melted into terzo’s touch.

“…. thank you,” y/n whispered into terzo’s neck, and he looked down at her with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow.

“for what, amore?” he asked with a charming grin, but he had an idea of what she wanted to say.

the sister was so incredibly thankful for terzo’s offer, for making her feel so good. she’s never felt this good in a while… and y/n believed that she wouldn’t have gotten that experience with any other man.

how lucky she was.

“for giving me the fuck of a lifetime.” y/n answered with a more confident grin. terzo was taken aback by her boldness, but he quickly smirked and pressed a kiss against her cheek.

“of course.”

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