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canarycolemine · 7 months

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The Cardinale

Pairing: Cardinal Terzo x Female Reader

Summary: Cardinal Terzo is one arragont motherfucker.

AO3 Link

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ only. hate sex. lots of it. cardinal is a little cheeky piece of shit. WC 4.4k.

Heavily inspired by @mardyart's depiction of Cardi T. Such a phenomenal artist!

Cocky, arrogant, headstrong.

The third Emeritus brother, destined to become Papa one day, nepotism to the highest degree. His suave, angular face and his overly confident charms - how he assumes every Sister will fall into his bed.

How I despise him. How I hope to never fall under his gaze, never be subjected to his attention.

Imagine my rage when Sister Superior informed me that I, her star pupil, will be responsible for tutoring the bastard in English.

He was “reassigned” to the country-side Abbey after displaying what I can only imagine was simply inappropriate behavior for an upper clergy member. The man believes that he can seduce and bed any living thing! Perhaps it’s not a matter of belief, but a goal, rather. At his current pace, he will have had most of the Sisters in his bed before the year is up!

Watching him saunter through the halls, smoking his little cigarettes - inside! I always made a concerted effort to cough as I walked past, head held high. He would simply perish, it seems, if he did not attempt to woo a woman a day. Kissing their hands, wearing his stupid white gloves, and winking that shining white eye.

I love my Sisters, but please, have some self-respect.

Quite frankly, I’ve always been appalled by his behavior. He has never led an entire black mass by himself, needing his brothers to finish the job. There was even one instance where I could have sworn he had a sister hidden under the pulpit from where he stood, evidently having communion. No, Cardinal Terzo only ever wanted to lead the rituals - the demon and ghoul summonings (he needs new things to fuck), the mystic elements (anything he can light on fire), and of course, orgies. (duh!).

It was early fall when Sister Superior invited me to her office. I was promised tea; secretly, I had hoped she would invite me to teach a seminar or two over the semester. My lecture series on the invocation of Lilith and Samuel could rival even the Dark One’s knowledge, himself!

But, no.

“The Cardinal is in desperate need of more restraint, and he could benefit from a more rigorous understanding of the English language. He prefers to speak in his mother tongue, and truthfully, it is not accommodating to international chapters.” Superior started, my ears perked at the mention of my personal enemy. I brought the steaming cup to my mouth. “I could think of none other to teach him all of these skills rather than you, Sister.”

I could hardly register the hind notes of the tea before it went straight through my nose, burning the whole way up! I coughed and sputtered the hot liquid at the shock of my assignment.

Still catching my breath, “My apologies, Sister, but… why me?”

“Give yourself credit, Sister. You are a star pupil!” A shine in her eyes, a smirk in her mouth let me know two things - she meant what she said and there was another reason, too.

My eyes narrowed, seeking the answers in her eyes.

“And you’re the only student that the Cardinal has not gotten to know… intimately.” Her lips pursed, looking towards the ground.

“Sister Superior…” I started, not above begging.

“Sister, I will make it worth your while. I will make sure you have your lecture series as a mandatory presentation for all first-year novicates.” A smile crossed my face, but dropped; still, the deal was unsatisfactory.

I sat up a little straighter, now making a dare. “And, no kitchen duty for the entirety of his lessons.” I hated the kitchens. Everything I’ve ever made was burnt to a crispr, so I’ve always been delegated to cleaning the dishes - the worst thing in the world.

She nodded, “That can be arranged.”

I smiled, relaxing a little, but how it only lasted so long. Resigned to my fate, I was excused to prepare for my lesson with the Cardinal this Tuesday.

A pause from my duties was provided in anticipation - he needed to be assessed for his English skills - grammar, vocabulary and pronunciation. From my understanding, he had a functional grasp on the language. But I did not really know.

Truth be told, I have never spoken even a word to the Cardinal - always avoiding him, always souring my face when his eyes gazed at me. I wanted to be wholly unappealing to the man. For the most part, he had taken the hint and left me alone. Although, I could have sworn he said something in Italian as I walked past, something like “how I want to be the stick up her…” I didn’t inquire further.

By Lucifer’s grace, I had successfully avoided him. Until the sunset on the second day of the week, when our paths collide.

I arrived at our designated location - one of the older classrooms, repurposed for private studying, long abandoned by the day. Thirty minutes early to the beginning of the lesson, how I tidied our space, laid the materials out and cleaned the chalkboard.

The hanging wall clock, the ever present heartbeat, kept steady. It was almost unnerving, as if keeping me in tempo with the eventual encounter with the asshole. The old bell tower clock rang out 6 times.

And the aforementioned asshole was not here. The door was unlocked, the sun firmly setting. My lips tightened to a pout. I will give him five minutes - no more.

Electing to sit in one of the old desks I rearranged, I pulled out a trusty book, as I had anticipated his tardiness.

Some twenty odd pages in, and I had lost track of time entirely - forgotten the reason I was in this dusty room. The bastard didn’t even show up, easily thirty minutes late! Quite frankly, it was embarrassing that I managed to stay this long. But now, I elected to start the process of cleaning my things.

In the morning, I planned to tell Sister Superior that I will simply not take the Cardinal as a student, he had no respect for my time. Future Papa or not, not enough breaths on this Earth could be spared for a man with little regard for others.

I managed to talk myself through this script as I cleaned up my belongings, nearly whispering her retorts back. But I would not be deterred! Lost in the monologue, I heard a hoard of boys giggling, getting closer to the door.

No, no. It could not be.

The door opened, the raven haired cardinal stumbled in - his pack of brothers falling behind him. Laughing at some lewd joke, no doubt. He turned to look at me, suddenly stiffening his posture. The smug smile falling from his face. He offered some excuse to the men behind him, closing the door to the two of us. He leaned against the old door frame, creaking under his weight. As if that would make him look cooler. The black cassock he preferred was immaculately ironed - surely not by his own hands. Maybe he was screwing the laundry girls.

I tried hard to keep my gaze away from him. My rage and my pride wouldn’t allow it.

“Scusa sorella, I, eh, lost the time.” He offered with a shrug of his shoulders. His voice was rich with his mother tongue.

“Well, Cardinal, I won’t keep you long, then. Our lesson is canceled.” I coldly retorted.

“Che cosa?”

“Canceled, cardinal.” I spat back, lifting my book and walking towards him. “You were late.”

“But I am here now, no?” That white eye twinkled - a charm that assuredly got him into many sisters’ beds.

“And I have been here, Cardinal. For thirty minutes past our scheduled time. Either your watch is broken or you have so little regard for others that time is no object to you?” I said, every syllable articulated, glaring at him.

His eyebrow quirked, a challenge, he supposed. A grin crossed his face, a chuckle that died in his throat.

“It really is you, eh sister?”

“What?” I shot back, whatever could he mean by that?

“You - you,” he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulling one to his lips, lighting it, and puffing the smoke away from us, “I thought my school would be with you. You are the sister that always walks with a stick up her ass.”

I made a pointed effort to cough at his smoke.

“Some of us have priorities besides fucking an entire congregation, Cardinal.”

“Am I really so evil, Sorella?” he feigned offense, the cigarette affecting his enunciation. Removing from his lips, another puff. “To celebrate our eh, how do you say, istinti?”

“Instincts.” I corrected.

“Ah, si, instincts. That is why we are here, no? Our Lord calls us to do just that.”

“You’ve got quite the head start on the sin of lust, Cardinal, I don’t think you could ever live long enough to dedicate your life to such… dedicated studies of the other sins.”

“It is my favorite.” His white gloves took the cigarette from his mouth, curling it between his fingers, before dropping it to the ground to extinguish the flame. His shoes shined brilliantly, even I could admit, but as I gazed at his shoes, I swore he winked at me through the reflection of his face.

“You really shouldn’t smoke, you know.”

“It is not good for me, this I know.” “I couldn’t care about what happens to you, the flame isn’t good for these old buildings. You’d burn down the whole abbey.”

“You say you don’t care about me sister.” He moved past me, further into the room, settling in one of the old teachers' desks. He kicked those expensive shoes onto the desk, relaxing back into the chair. “But I do not think that is so true.”

I faced him fully, still standing near the door. “I promise you, I do not.”

“Hm,” he chuckled, bringing his gloved hand to his mouth, running the fabric gently against his lower, unpainted lip. “No.” He said so sternly.

“What?”

“What?” he mocked me, a voice that was far too high pitched to be an imitation of me.

I let out an exasperated sigh, to which he laughed.

“Fuck you.” I went for my bag, still at the old desk.

“Do you want to know how I know this?” He said, staring at my rage.

“I doubt you ever shut up, so it doesn’t really matter what I want.”

“Sorella,” he sat up in the chair, his feet meeting the ground and his hands coming together on the desk. “We have not spoken any words to each other. But you hate me so much?”

I huffed. “You have no respect for anyone but yourself!” I could feel an all too familiar lump in my throat.

“How do you know this?” His patience now wearing thin, I could hear it.

“You walk around the abbey like you own the place. I get it, I know you’re the future Papa, but God damn it, you are so arrogant. You’ve never had to work for anything in your life! You think you can just fuck anyone and anything that walks through these doors. You’ve had everything handed to you by a silver spoon, and I hate it.”

My eyes watered, I couldn’t look at him. Whether from my rage or some secret hopes I had, I could feel the emotion.

“I’ve worked so fucking hard to get where I am, and I will never be anything close to you, just because you’re, fucking, you! And now, I have to waste my time teaching you English because you can’t stay focused for more than five seconds!”

My fist met the school table. His face leaned into his hands, thinking too carefully about the situation. His eyebrow quirked.

“... You are jealous of me, then?” He hid a smirk behind his hands.

I glared at him, how I wish my stare could kill.

“Fuck. You.”

“That does not sound like a no.” No effort in hiding his smirk now.

“Since when does ‘no’ matter to you?” I baited.

He feigned offense, yet again, bringing his hand to his chest. “Sorella, I am offended! I can promise you all of my sexual encounters have been enthusiastic by all parties. I would not dare to violate another!”

“What a well constructed sentence, Cardinal. It seems like you have no need for any help with the English language.”

“Ah, she has gotten me off of the topic…”

“All I had to do was talk about sex, so it wasn’t too hard, was it now?”

“No, no, no, we were talking about you, si! About how you are so jealous of me.” He ran that stupid fucking gloved hand through his hair, slicked with grease.

“Even now, you cannot say you are not jealous of me. Admit it.”

I paused. “So what?”

He clapped his hands, catching me apparently.

“She is! She is very jealous of my status and my future. But, I think she is jealous of not only me, no?” His tone shifted, in a direction I was not comfortable with.

“What?”

“She is also very jealous of all of the people that I get to fuck.” He punctuated the syllables far too clearly.

I huffed again, rolling my eyes. “There it is again. She does not say ‘no!’”

I hated how well he was reading me.

“Why do you even care? You fuck everything with a pulse, so why do you care?”

Fuck. I was not selling this very well. His gaze told me everything. The raised eyebrow, the smug pull of his painted lips.

He tilted his head, as if to study me further. I could feel myself recoil.

“You have done too much assuming, Sorella. About me, about yourself.”

He stood from the chair and stalked towards me. Instinctively, I crept back from him, nearing the wall for safety.

“You think I do not care about anyone but me, and that is not true. You think I abuse my future position, but that is not true either. And you think I fuck anything with a pulse.” He reached me, cornering me against the wall.

“And that,” he brought his finger to my chin, forcing my eyes to his, “is not true. I only fuck the pretty ones.”

Here is where I could be offended, he never fucked me. I thought that I was fairly pretty, so damn, that kinda hurt my feelings.

Sensing the monologue, “And you are a pretty one.” His painted lips gently touched mine.

God damn it. I hated how good that felt.

“So you see, sister, I knew you thought all of this.” His other hand reached for my waist, exploring the dip of my body. “I saw the way you scowled at me, pretending to hate me. It was all jealousy. But there is something about the way you hated me that pulled me so, so close. I needed to have you.”

“But how to get to you?” His hands reached for mine, holding them in place, behind my back.

“Who better to teach me restraint?” he purred.

“I act like an asshole for a while, speak in Italian with my friends. I get the attention of the Sister Superior, who will certainly demand I be subdued by studies.” His painted lips traveled a path along my jaw to my ear. “And who here have I not fucked?”

His teeth grazed my earlobe. “I could deceive the world for you.”

I bit my lip. His gaze returned to mine.

“Pretty good, no?”

“Pretending you’re stupid was a very believable act, apparently.” I mustered out, flustered as I was.

“Don’t deceive me now, Sorella.” His lips met mine again, pressing his forehead to mine. “There is one thing I need to hear you say.” His words left his mouth easily, but he was not unaffected. Just as flustered as I.

I huffed, pausing for only a moment.

“Si.”

His lips crashed to mine, with a fire that was barely restrained before. He released my hands from behind my back; his hands traveled to my hips, lifting me. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist.

We traveled through the room, locked in the heated kiss, when he sat me on the teacher’s desk.

“On the teacher’s desk?” I giggled, taking in the chosen location.

“It’s always been a fantasy.” He laughed back, then resumed his fury on my neck.

His large hands reached for my habit, pulling it off in a fell swoop. Evident of his experience, it hardly hurt. He pulled away from me, just gazing at me for a moment.

“Pretty one.” As if he didn’t know he said it.

Fuck.

I lead the charge back to his mouth, my hands now locking into his raven locks. The diligent work of unbuttoning that goddamn stupid black cassock. I gave it my best shot. My hands kept slipping on the buttons, struggling to unhook them. He chuckled from our kiss, removing my hands from him.

“Having trouble, darling? It’s always difficult.” His gloved hands made the show unbuttoning each cotton button - traveling down in body in quite the show.

Once to the bottom, he stepped out of the garment and removed his crisp white undershirt. I was out of my body, unaware of how I looked as I looked at him. Each new sight of his skin lit a fire in me. He was as slender as I thought he would be, well defined, certainly. A healthy patch of hair on his chest - he was certainly Italian.

A glance to his eyes knew how I enjoyed his spectacle.

Cocky, arrogant, and headstrong was the Cardinale.

“Your turn.”

He came back to my neck, teasing the delicate flesh. The first moan slipped from my lips as he sucked the skin purple.

“Good girl.” He purred. He lifted my habit from my legs, over my head, leaving me in my undergarments. Pausing his efforts to take in my form. A glance in his eyes - like my body was a feast for his soul. Another look at my undergarments, “Matching?” in reference to the black bra and panties I was sporting.

Guilty.

He leaned closer to me, resting an arm on the table. Teasingly, looking into me.

“Women match when they are planning to be fucked.” My eyes turned from his, embarrassing me again. His other hand came to my chin, forcing my gaze to his. “Was there someone else, Sorella?”

I opened my mouth, but the words failed me.

“No.” He answered for me, feigning sympathy. “There wasn’t, was there?”

My mouth hung open, but I couldn’t admit it.

“Say it, then.”

Bastard.

“Say it, pretty one, I do not have all night.” His voice nearly sang.

The fire his was stroking in me burned, “I need you to fuck me.” I whined, my eyes nearly starting to water.

His hand, holding my gaze, went to my shoulder, forcing me to lay on the old, creaking desk. Quickly, he made work removing my bra. Adoringly, he stared at the exposed skin.

Wordlessly, he painted my breasts with his lips. As his lips latched around my nipple, I whimpered, already so sensitive. His other hand toyed with the opposite breast, kneading the flesh. As his teeth grazed the delicate flesh, he nearly pinched the opposite.

Another gasp escaped.

“She likes it when it hurts?”

Obviously. I fucking hated him so much.

He mirrored his actions on the opposite breasts before trailing his kisses further down my torso. Nipping at the skin, kissing it, dragging his tongue.

He left a particularly gentle kiss below my navel, as he gazed back at me. Wordlessly asking.

I nodded.

He hooked his hands to the elastic of the lacy panties, dragging them off of my legs in a well-practiced motion.

“Spread your legs.” I obliged, as he pulled the teacher’s chair to sit in between my legs.

His gaze never left my core, which he could see how he affected me. He lifted my legs onto his shoulders, granting a better view. Biting the fingers of his gloves, removing them. Gently working the muscle of my inner thighs, unconsciously creeping higher.

Reaching my core, his uncovered hands spread me open further to him. He gazed reverently.

“Pretty, pretty girl.” He stroked my slit delicately, I shivered and whined at the feeling. “Such a pretty girl.”

He brought his face close, kissing my mound and licking the slit all the way up. He left gentle kisses onto my already sensitive clit, dying for attention. He latched his lips around the bud, suckling softly.

As his tongue flicked my clit, I bucked my hips into his mouth, firming my grip in his hair.

He unlatched to drag his tongue, flattened, up and down my core. His tongue prodded at my entrance, lapping at my slick. His fingers moved towards my center, replacing his mouth, pressing into me.

One finger - pumping slowly into me - adjusting the feeling. Adding another one, stretching slightly. His eyes studied my face for discomfort. Once I adjusted, his divine mouth returned to my clit, alternating between kissing and suckling. His fingers curled into me, searching. When they found the spongy tissue inside, the moans fell easily. Begging him. He teased the spot, expertly. Pressing into it with each pump, as he sucked on my clit.

“Cardinal-” I started. “I’m getting - close” I managed to get out.

I could feel a smile on his lips as he continued, speeding his actions.

The band in my stomach was burning, stretching, white hot. At the precipice, as my cries started to build.

When suddenly he stopped. Sitting back, removing his mouth and fingers from me.

I shuddered at the loss of sensation, being so close. I sat up slightly to look at him.

The fucker was wiping my slick from his chin, licking his fingers clean.

Apparently, my face told him how close I was, how it was moments away.

“I wanted to feel it on my cock, darling.” His eyebrow raised. “Plus, it feels better when you ruin it a little bit.”

A fight was breaking in my head, an internal debate I was having with him.

His belt jingled, his pants being slid down and discarded. Left in pristine white boxers, which he lowered. His cock sprang free, dripping with his precum.

“I could have came just from tasting you, you know?” as he began languidly stroking himself, using himself to lubricate the movements. “All of your little sounds, they sounded so sweet. And you were oh so close, weren’t you?”

His teasing was back, his hand sped up, only to build himself up more. I whined.

“Just think. Even an hour ago, you were cursing my name, wanting me dead. Look at you now - begging for my cock.”

He pressed his cock into my core, rubbing the reddened head onto my clit. A guttural noise fell from me. An animalistic cry.

“She was so jealous of me, too. And now all she wants to be is fucked by me. Maybe she’ll die if she doesn’t get it, what do you think?”

“Please, Terzo.” “Oh, using my name now? What happened to ‘asshole?’” His voice cracked, unaffected by his own need.

“Please fuck me.” I cried out, a tear falling from my eye.

“Say it again.”

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” Tumbling out.

On command, he aligned himself and pressed into my dripping heat. Feeling every inch of my warmth, he shuddered and groaned.

“So, so good” he whispered.

He filled me exquisitely, pressing in carefully, allowing me to adjust. My nails marked his back, savoring every inch.

His hips finally met mine, I swore I could feel him in my stomach. He let out a breath, unsteadied from restraint.

“Don’t have that restraint now, Cardinal.” I teased. “Move.”

A low groan from him, as his hips rolled, moving back. “You won’t be able to walk tomorrow if I don't.”

“Try your worst.”

He slammed forward again, now setting a punishing pace. Feeling the drag of his cock on my walls, I whined. His hands tilted my hips further up, angling to my sweet spot. I gasped at the pressure. It was returning - the precipice. He couldn’t rob me a second time.

“Perhaps, sorella, it is you who needs a lesson, eh?” He nearly coughed through, maintaining his pace. “I could teach you something.”

His hand moved towards we were joined, circling my clit. It was becoming too much - the sweet pressure of him inside and now his devious fingers.

His fingers moved quickly on my clit, building the fire again. My moans telling him it all. As if in perfect rhythm, his pistoning hips and circling fingers.

“Let’s countdown, darling. In Italian.”

His other hand came to my chin, forcing my gaze. He nodded, as if to reassert his power. “It goes…dieci, nove…”

The fire was reaching a breaking point, I knew what he was doing now. His fingers still moved with a steady speed.

“Otto, sette, sei…”

“...Terzo…” I whined.

“Cinque, quattro, tre…”

“I’m gonna…”

“Due, uno.”

The waves of pleasure crashed down on me, my legs shaking. My vision blurry, white hot. His hips stuttered, as I felt him swell inside, riding out my pleasure. Milking him for all he had. The course of our cries rang in the old room. His fingers didn’t stop until I whined with oversensitivity, his spend leaking from me.

He stayed inside, pressing his full weight onto me.

We held each other in an embrace, coming down from divinity. Our breaths in sync, slowing down.

My breath nearly returned to me as I came to, laughing with what air I had.

“What’s so funny?” His smirk shined with a warmth I had not seen before.

“A countdown to my orgasm. Cheeky.”

He laughed. “It worked, eh?”

“Don’t be too full of yourself.”

“I cannot, you are full of me.”

“Ew! Don’t say it like that, dumbass.”

“There is the girl that hates me. I missed her.” He gazed at me, smiling more softly now, tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear. Holding my face in his hand, so gently. He placed the last soft his to my lips.

“And I’ll never stop hating you, Cardinal.”

“So be it, but it has worked out well for me so far, huh?”

Bastard.

#my writing #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii x female reader #sister of sin #ghost band fanfic #Cardinal Terzo #terzo x reader #ghost band smut #papa emeritus smut #this is unholy #my apologies

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ghulehunknown · 7 months

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DAY 1 of KINKTOBER! 🎃

Also available on AO3

*EXPLICIT - NSFW*

“Caught by Papa”

Summary: Papa of your choice catches you touching yourself in the pews of the Abbey…

Warnings/Tags: Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering, Public Masturbation

Mass went agonizingly slow. And Papa wasn’t helping by glancing at you every few moments. You wanted to touch yourself, thinking of those stolen kisses you two had in the hallways on Tuesday - but you couldn’t, not with the Clergy in the pews next to you.

Yet when it was over, you found yourself remaining where you sat, waiting until everyone left. Perhaps it was curiosity, perhaps it was stupidity - to not go back to your room to relieve those fiery thoughts going through your mind just moments ago.

You gazed up at the large Grucifix hanging over the altar. You closed your eyes and slipped your hand through the slit of your habit, touching yourself slowly at first, then quicker and quicker until -

“All by yourself, Sorella?” came a familiar voice.

Blood rushed to your cheeks, sudden shame washing over you. “Papa! Shit - I mean I, I didn’t see you there,” you exclaimed. You scrambled to pull down your skirt to make yourself decent, but an unexpected leather-gloved hand tucking your hair behind your ear stopped you in your tracks.

“Tsk tsk, Sorella,” he snarled, appearing in the pew behind you - one hand gripping your wrist so tightly it turned white, his other hand lifting your skirt back up. “The only sin you’ve committed is not letting me help you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as his hand slipped easily into your core. His breath, hot and heavy, whispered devilish things into your ear in between the kisses he placed on your neck. You kicked up your combat boots on the back of the pew in front of you, feeling his fingers explore you deeper.

“Really, Papa? Right here, in the place where we worship the Olde One?” you teased through quiet moans as his fingers slid around your clit, back down and slipping two fingers inside you.

“Really, Sorella? Eye fucking me,” - he began to slide his fingers in and out of you as he said this - “and flashing me your upper thighs as I dutifully led our worship to the Olde One?”

Motherfucker. You had no quick retort when he was inside you. You had no mind, no resolve, no breath, no name - only his name at your lips. Merely a Nameless Sibling, melting at the slightest look he gave you. No voice but a whimper, a moan, echoing the pleasure he gave you within the Abbey halls.

His free hand clapped around your mouth to muffle your moans, as people crossed the hallway just outside the doors. “When we get back to my room I want to hear you screaming, but for now…shhh,” he said, thumbing your clit as he continued to thrust in and out of you. Your body tensed, your fists in balls as you tried as hard as you could not to scream into his hand as you came, shaking in his arms.

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hopeshroud · 1 month

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WIP Wednesday

Dipping my toes into the Ghost fandom with some art!

Papa Emeritus iii and sister of sin

#digital art #the band ghost #papa emeritus iii #papa terzo #terzo #sister of sin #my artwork #art #anatomy #papa emeritus iii x reader #terzo x reader #terzo x sister of sin!reader

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historian-crown · 1 year

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HERE WE GO WITH MY FIRST SMUT EVER. It is a CopiaxFemReader fic with mainly smut, but also fluff. Please give me some feedback if you liked it...also if you did not.

18+ content, minors do not interact!

Thank you and have fun.

(Yes the meme is going to make sense after you read it)

#the band ghost #fanfiction #copia x reader #copia x sister of sin #smut fanfiction #copia smut #cardinal copia #ghost #panna cotta #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus ii #primo #secondo #terzo

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ryuzatodraws-archive · 2 years

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-pretends to gasps- my who would have thought that my work is actually in a calendar zine project!

You can grab it here! With many other cool and awesome artists. Did I mention that the profit will go to charity?

#ghost band #yes wow first collaborative project for this fandom!#please do check out the calendars!#papa emeritus iii x original character #papa emeritus iii #papa Terzo #sister of sin Lucilla #sister Lucilla

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spectralmagpie · 11 months

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Werewolf sister of sin character sheet 🐺

She’s with Terzo 💕

#my art #oc #ghost #ghost bc #ghost oc #sister of sin #werewolf #terzo x oc #terzo x reader #werewolf gf

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egonspenglerishot · 10 months

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@captaingrebelguf

Here is Christine! This took me to long to draw and edit but here she is!

She is Terzos prime mover and later wife.

#the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fic #the band ghost #ghost band oc #sister of sin #Terzos prime mover #Terzo X oc

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portaltothevoid · 6 months

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Between Breaths (An XXX Perspective) - Terzo x Reader

Summary: You're the Head Witch at the Ministry. Arguably at times you hold more power than the current Papa, Papa Emeritus III. You've always hated him and you assumed the feeling was mutual. But what happens when he calls you out on it?

song: between breaths (an xx perspective) by blaqk audio

A/N: had an idea that was encouraged by @copias-juicebox, @fishwithtitz, and @da-rulah. you can thank them or blame them for this. idk i guess i have terzo brainrot. enjoy the absolute filth that is this one shot. (pictures for the mood board all found on pinterest)

word count: 6.5k

warnings: MDNI. enemies to lovers, angst, female reader, hate sex, semi-public sex, library sex, oral m-receiving & f-receiving, face fucking, deepthroating, dom!terzo, brat!reader, edging, fingering, squirting, p in v, face slapping, unprotected sex, cream pie, using a belt as a makeshift whip, choking, lots of bickering banter before the smut, not really proofread, self-translated italian

Being the Head Witch of the Satanic Church definitely had its perks. For example, you could go in and out of the restricted section of the library as you pleased without having to provide any explanation as to why you needed a certain book, your living quarters rivaled that of the highest clergy members, and you were the one calling the shots with anything related to magic, be it a conjuring or a protection spell, a cord cutting. Sometimes your power within the Ministry rivaled that of Papa, the Anti-Pope, much to his chagrin, of course.

Brothers and Sisters of Sin alike flocked to you, not only for your expertise, but because you were drop dead gorgeous, charismatic, feisty, and because you had power. With your office being directly across from Papa’s, you would often catch him glaring at you from his desk as the door to your office might have been a revolving one with how many people were in and out of it. And especially during major holidays, did the Children of the Ministry come knocking at your door. It sometimes seemed like they had forgotten about their darling Papa Emeritus III. They only had eyes for you. That drove him crazy and thus, your rivalry was born.

Despite seeming to have it all, it grew tiring to be constantly surrounded by so many people. Having company at night was great and all, but the connections were vapid. You had no choice but to keep any and all suitors at arm’s length; it was safer that way, both for you and for them. Your work was demanding and that would always come first. There was an aching loneliness that gnawed at you, but you refused to acknowledge it. Relationships, true connection, only got in the way. You weren’t the youngest Head Witch the church had ever seen, barely even in your thirties, because you spent time curating intimate and genuine relationships in the hopes of one day starting a family. You had ambitions, goals, and nothing would get in the way of that.

This led to quite the paradox: you were surrounded by people, loved and excelled at your job, and even craved solitude, but the loneliness that clawed at your heart could be suffocating.

Tonight was one of those paradoxical nights where you wanted nothing more than to be alone, but you wished there was someone you could be alone with – no expectations, no ulterior motives, just the mere act of coexisting with someone who had chosen you and you had chosen them. Often, you would find yourself in the library on nights like this. People would be too engrossed in their own studies to pay you any mind. Or you would just stay in the restricted section, knowing very few people had access to it.

It was quiet enough that you found yourself just outside the off-limits occult books. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, perhaps you’d know when you found it.

Too lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice the last person you wanted to see walking towards you until it was too late to make a swift getaway. “Buona sera, cara mia (my dear),” greeted the illustrious Papa as he leaned his back against the bookshelf, an arrogant smirk on his face.

You set your book on the shelf in front of you as your head tilted back with an exasperated sigh escaping you. “What do you want, Terzo? I’m not in the mood for your bullshit tonight.”

He put a gloved hand to his chest and gasped dramatically. “I am offended.”

“Clearly not enough to leave me alone.”

“Ah, you see, that I cannot do, because I’m looking for something, a book actually, and I just so happened to see you, and perhaps you could find it in your cold, black heart to help me.”

It was your turn to gasp dramatically as you slowly turned to face him. “You can read?!”

Terzo rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Will you help me or not?” he asked curtly.

“Sure! The children’s section is downstairs, to the left, all the way to the back. You can’t miss it.”

“I didn’t rise to Papa with the reading level of a toddler,” he retorted with an edge to his voice.

“You’re right, my mistake. It must have been the nepotism.”

He let out a frustrated puff as he pushed himself away from the bookshelf and started to walk away. Your quiet chuckle was loud enough so that he turned on his heel and walked right back up to you. “I don’t understand why you hate me so much.”

“Because you’re a pompous figurehead with a constant need for attention who’s had nearly everything handed to him and the fact your dick sees more traffic than the 405 on a Friday night during rush hour.” You spoke with an air of nonchalance like you were just spouting off a common factoid as you turned to face him, crossing your arms. The bookshelves now against your back.

His eyes turned to slits. “Who am I to turn down those that hand themselves to me willingly? And don’t act like your body count isn’t as high as mine. If anything, I’d bet it’s higher judging from how many people I see – and hear – coming and going from your office,” he spat.

“Well, at least the lives of the people I fuck actually improve afterwards when the spells come to fruition. They aren’t just fucking me for clout and just to say they did only to find out you’ve already moved on to your next conquest.” Your upper lip started to curl upwards into a sneer, but you did your best to control it. The last thing you wanted to do was give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of you.

“Oh, spare me the righteous act, dolcezza.”

“It’s not a ‘righteous act’ to make my intentions clear to my partners. Maybe you should try that out sometime. Sure would save me a lot of work.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, glaring at you as he took a step towards you.

“It means that your escapades upset enough people that they come to me to seek retribution. Against you. You have no idea how much thankless damage control I have to do for your pathetic ass.”

Clearly, that jab had the opposite effect you intended. A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes as he took another half step closer to you. “Are you implying you… protect me?” he asked slyly.

“Don’t fucking flatter yourself. I’m implying that I’m doing what I have to to keep Sister Imperator off my back.”

“But that is still protecting me from hexes and curses cast by the ones who let their feelings cloud the reality of the situation. And for the record, cara…” With another step forward he placed his hand on the shelf next to your shoulder, leaning in, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “I make my intentions very clear.” You refused to acknowledge the way that made your stomach flip and your heart rate picked up speed.

You tried to take a step away from him, but were only met with shelves digging into your back. The crease in your forehead deepened as you clenched your jaw. It wasn’t until you saw his eyes dart between your eyes and your lips did your arms uncross from your chest as you pushed him to the side. “You’re an insufferable rompicoglioni (pain in the ass), you know that?” After turning your back on him, you only managed to get a few steps away before his next question stopped you in your tracks.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it…”

You tilted your head to the ceiling, your eyes shut, as you let out a deep breath. “Thought about what?” you asked through your still gritted teeth. He stayed silent. You shook your head and turned around to face him again. “Thought. About. What?” you practically growled your repeated question.

He stood there, leaning against the bookshelves, with his bottom lip seductively in between his teeth as he raised his eyebrows at you. “Do I really need to answer that question?” he chuckled.

“I can’t fucking stand you,” you said as you turned to leave his stupid, smirking face behind you. Again, you didn’t get very far when you felt a gloved hand grab your wrist, his grip just tight enough to halt you and turn you to face him.

“Have you ever thought why that is, streghetta mia (my little witch)?” he cooed, bringing his other hand to gently caress your cheek.

“I am not your little—” you began defiantly until he interrupted you. His words suddenly became harsher, much more serious.

“Rispondimi (answer me),” he demanded, his grip tightening on your wrist. His hand on your cheek went from a feather light touch, to forcefully grabbing the side of your neck, aiding in the way he pulled you to him so that almost no space remained between you.

“I already told you why,” you said through your teeth. Your whole body tensed being this close to him. If it was a losing battle, you desperately tried to fight the lost cause of keeping your composure. His deliciously delicate Italian cologne didn’t affect you. The heat from his body didn’t affect you. How roughly he handled you definitely didn’t affect you.

“No. I don’t think you did, because I don’t think you can admit the truth.” The intensity of his stare burned into you (but it absolutely did not affect you). He pulled you into the crook of his neck. Biting the inside of your cheek was the only way you could ground yourself, focus on the task at hand — not letting him win. He was so close to you that you could feel his lips moving against your ear as he murmured, “Everything you hate about me… is what you hate about yourself, amore.”

You lost sight of him; all you could see was red. Twisting your wrist, you broke free from his grasp. Your hands flew up to his chest as you shoved him back. He stumbled slightly, bracing himself on the bookshelves. The amused half-smile on his face told you everything you needed to know: he was loving every second of this. “Seems I’ve struck a nerve, hm?”

“You fucking asshole! I am nothing like you.” The venom clinged to your words.

“You’re not? You don’t enjoy the company of others under the guise of tending to the flock when all you crave is real connection? You don’t flaunt your ‘power’ to make up for every inadequacy you feel about yourself?” He sauntered up to you, placing his hands on your shoulders as if the slightest movement would shatter you.

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” you mumbled through barely parted lips.

“How long are you going to keep telling yourself that, hm?” he purred, hooking his finger under your chin, which you pushed away. You tried to back away from him, but yet again, you were stopped by the bookshelf.

“If you’re so self aware, then why do you still act like a piece of shit?”

He leaned forward, putting a hand on either side of you, caging you in. “Because, streghetta, the only connection worth pursuing thinks I’m a pompous pain in the ass fucking asshole piece of shit figurehead with the reading ability of a four year old. Did I remember everything?” he smirked.

His mismatched eyes burned into yours. His white iris seemed to be almost glowing in the dim library light. The heat that was starting to burn in your center made you stay put. Your only movement came from your head quickly turning to the side as you heaved an insolent breath. Breaking eye contact was the only thing you could think of doing right now, but even that was short lived. He emphatically grabbed your face, silently ordering you to look at him, your cheeks smushing together between his thumb and index fingers. “I asked you a question. Stop being a brat and rispondimi,” he hissed.

“Kinda hard with my jaw in your hand,” you managed to mutter.

“I understood you just fine.” He pressed harder into your face. The longer you were silent, the more pressure he added.

“F-fine! Yes! That’s what I think of you, stronzo,” you spat.

“Brava ragazza. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” he praised softly. The back of his fingers returned to graze your cheek.

You couldn’t help but press your lips into a thin line as you mulled over when he said “...the only connection worth pursuing…”

“Thinking about what I said?” His hand slid down your neck to your collarbone.

“No,” you replied immediately. Your eyes quickly flitted up to the ceiling at how easily you gave yourself away, which earned you a light, airy laugh. “Wait. Yeah. If this is the ‘only connection worth pursuing’ then what’s taken you so long? Did you have to test out all the others to make sure it was the right choice?”

“You’re too busy scowling at me to notice me noticing you.”

“No, not quite. Try again.”

“This is one of the very few times I’ve been able to catch you alone.”

“Oh, please. Your office is directly across from mine. And I have seen you on multiple occasions staring at me when your door is open,” you scoffed.

“And every time, before I can even think about getting up from my chair, you slam the door shut,” he countered, twirling a lock of your hair between his fingers.

Swatting his hand away, you said, “Still not the real answer.”

“Then what is?” He let his hand fall to your shoulder and slowly began to cascade down your arm.

“You don’t think you’re good enough for someone like me.” With a challenging tilt of your head and raise of your eyebrows, you watched as astounded annoyance clouded his eyes. “Yeah, two can play this game.” You straightened out the collar to his shirt and trailed your fingers down to adjust the top buttons with your eyes focused on your small task. They only looked back into his eyes when you mockingly added, “Caro.”

Finally, you struck a nerve. He took both your wrists and pinned them down beside you. “Before tonight’s over, I’ll show you I’m more than good enough for you.”

You tossed your head back as you laughed, craning your neck to watch his reaction. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. I’ve seen the way your conquests look when they leave your office. It doesn’t take a genius to know you’re a good fuck. It does, however, take a certain kind of person to notice how you never seem completely satisfied… like something’s missing…”

Pressing his body flush against yours, he leaned down and whispered, “Like I said earlier, amore, it’s the craving for real connection, which of course, you of all people would notice something like that.” You could feel the warmth of his breath dancing over a sensitive spot on your neck. “Because… you’re just… like… me…” he added breathlessly as he dragged his lips along your neck before he pulled himself away to stare into your eyes.

The desire pooling between your legs was inescapable. Your eyes darted from his to his lips before returning to the mismatched eyes that watched your every subtle movement. That was all the invitation he needed before he released your wrists to take your face in his hands as your lips crashed together. Just because you lost the battle didn’t mean you couldn’t win the war.

Your hand flew to the nape of his neck where you threaded your fingers in his hair. He moaned into your mouth when you started pulling. Your other hand balled the fabric of his shirt at his hip into your fist.

He broke the kiss only to leave a sloppy trail of kisses down our neck where he began to suck and nip at it. You let your head fall back and your grip in his hair tighten. He maneuvered himself so he was pressing his thigh between your legs and without a second thought, as a breathless moan escaped your lips, you began to rut against him. “I still… fucking hate you…” you panted.

Before he could make his clever retort, your heads turned towards the sound of the door opening. You could hear the light sound click-clacking of heels on the floor below. Terzo couldn’t even get his suggestion out before you pushed him off you, taking his hands in yours and leading him deeper into the library. He eyed you curiously, an impish grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

When the sounds of the other patrons faded, you slammed back against a random stack and pulled him against you, assuming your previous formation. “Are you sure you want to do this here?” he asked in between open mouthed kisses on your neck.

“I wouldn’t have dragged you over here if I wasn’t.”

His gaze lingered over you as if to double check you were telling the truth. He nodded once. “Bene. Safe word?”

“Rigatoni.” He tilted his head at you, a quizzical look on his face. “What? Do you prefer ziti?”

“No, just an… interesting choice.”

“Non verbal is two taps and a pinch, but first,” you said as you held his wrist one hand and started taking off one of his gloves in the other, “the Mickey Mouse gloves are coming off.” His eyes narrowed into slits as he let you remove his gloves, placing them in his back pocket. You gave his ass a hard slap when you were done, leaning back on the stack behind you, with an exaggerated and triumphant smile on your face.

Taking your face in his now bare hand, he held it like he did just moments ago. He put his other hand beside your head, pressing his body into your and leaning forward, “I’m not going to hold back, streghetta.” He lowered his voice, making it sound husky and gravelly. He let go of you, roughly pushing your head to the side as he did so.

“Good. Don’t want you to,” you paused before you giggled, doing your best Mickey Mouse impersonation.

That earned you a smack across the face. It wouldn’t leave a mark, but you felt the sting go straight down to your core. You looked up at him with a daring smirk.

You could see the anger ice over his eyes. His features darkened. “Be careful what you wish for.”

You yanked him toward you, your fists grabbing his shirt as leverage as you purred in his ear, “Do your worst, papino.”

His hand wrapped around your bicep so tightly, you knew there would be a bruise there tomorrow. He dragged you through the aisles of books to the study area. He let go of you only for a moment to turn you away from him as he pushed you down onto the table in front of you. Biting your lip, you pressed your thighs together, needing some semblance of relief.

Mismatched eyes watching you like a hawk, of course he noticed. “Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted. You heard the faint clinking of a belt buckle and the slide of leather. Using his knee, he nudged your legs away from each other. “Brats like you don’t get anything until they’ve been properly punished.” You chewed on your lip as he folded his belt, allowing for him to have more control.

The brisk air hit the back of your legs as he lifted your maxi skirt up, exposing yourself to him. He put the belt in his mouth, freeing his hands, so he could yank your panties off you. Your ankle lifted off the ground, causing you to throw one of your hands to the edge of the table to save your balance. The belt went into his left hand, he placed it beside you as he leaned over you, pressing his still clothed erection into your bare ass. “Mmm, you say you hate me so much and yet here you are, already so fucking wet for me.” Not giving you any chance to make a smart ass comment, he shoved your underwear into your mouth.

Pushing off of you, he caressed your ass like he was mapping out where the belt would strike you. He went from the left corner down to the right, being mindful enough not to even graze your cunt, giving no reprieve whatsoever. Then he repeated the motion going from the right corner down to the left.

Thwack!

Without warning, the belt made contact with your skin. Tears instantly sprang in your eyes, having been taken by surprise. The force of the blow made you cry out, but the sound was muffled; it just sounded like a poor excuse of a whimper.

“Still think you can handle this, streghetta mia?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed as you nodded – your tone still defiant.

Thwack!

You were actually thankful for the makeshift gag in your mouth, which gave you something to bite down on as you took the pain.

“If I had known–” thwack! “ –That this is what it took–” thwack! “ –to get you to shut your goddamn smart ass mouth up–” thwack! “ –I would have done this so much sooner.” Thwack!

He leaned over you again, this time pressing a kiss to your shoulder before asking if you were okay. Blinking tears away, you nodded. You were more than okay. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this alive.

“Hmm, I’m not sure I’m completely convinced…” he mused as he stood up. Just as you went to loosen the white knuckle grip you had on the table’s edge, you felt his thumb trail down from your taint, through your folds, and onto your clit, which he circled twice. You moaned loudly. “Mmm,” you could hear him sucking your arousal off his finger, “yes, you are doing quite alright.”

You practically squealed when suddenly one of his fingers slid right inside you. He wasted no time finding the spot that could make you scream. You whined when he removed himself from you, but it was only to flip you over onto your back. Without thinking, your leg hooked around his waist, anchoring him to you. He looked down at you, smirking, before he plunged his middle and ring fingers inside of you. Your eyes rolled back with your head that rested on the table. Your back arched.

And then he began the assault of pressure; his fingers curled up, furiously tapping on your sweet spot. You swear you had never been this wet for anyone before. The noises coming from your cunt only made you clench harder around his fingers. His movements were so hard and so fast, you were almost being lifted off of the table. You were so close, so close. Despite the makeshift gag, you were screaming. Just as the coil in your core was about to snap, he was gone. Your eyes snapped open, wide with rage. Instantly you sat up. If looks could kill, he would have been dead at your feet.

“Stand up. Get on your knees.” For the first time tonight, you followed his instruction, but that was where your obedience ended.

“Figlio di puttana del cazzo (you fucking son of a bitch!)!” you snarled, looking up at him, after throwing the gag to the side.

Shaking his head, he gathered your hair into a ponytail, tugging your head back. You earned your second slap of the night. He undid and took off his pants, tossing them haphazardly to the side. You watched as his leaking cock sprung out. At the sight of it, your mouth immediately began to water. “If you can stop being a fucking brat and actually put your mouth to good use, then maybe you’ll get a reward,” he seethed. He shoved two of his fingers into the corners of your mouth. “Open.”

There was no getting used to him. In what felt like mere milliseconds, his length was down your throat. The only thing you could think of, for just a fraction of relief, was to open your jaw as wide as you possibly could, but even that wasn’t enough. He held your hair like he was holding on for dear life, deep growls rumbled from his chest. With every thrust you could feel whatever leftover animosity he had towards you pouring into you.

A near constant stream of tears cascaded down your face. You could barely see his smirk as you gagged around him. Abruptly, he stopped, pulling himself away from your mouth. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. “Get up,” he commanded as he pulled you up by your hair. He only let go when you were standing. “Back on the table. On your back.” You relished the break, taking your time to do as you were told. He stayed looking down at you, a lust-crazed look on his face. Expectantly, you looked back up at him, waiting for whatever he had planned next. Grabbing you by the shoulders, he slid you to him so your head was hanging off the table. “Apri (open),” he breathed.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you braced yourself for the second onslaught that never came. He slowly slid himself into your mouth, down your throat. You let the spit you saved from before getting on the table bubble up around him. This angle was a bit easier for you to take him. He used your ribs as leverage to thrust in and out of your mouth. A moan floated from his lips as his eyes closed, letting himself get lost in his own pleasure. You placed your hands on the back of his thighs. His lips curled over his teeth as he moaned again when you dug your nails into him. “Satanas, sei bella (you’re beautiful),” he murmured. Dragging his hands up, he wrapped them around your neck as he kept thrusting down into your mouth.

“Cazzo,” he groaned as he could feel himself in your throat. By this point, you said to hell with your gag reflex. It was easy to ignore while he incessantly fucked your face. He was slightly less aggressive with your neck bent over the edge of the table, his pace slower. As if savoring every inch of the feel of you, he pushed himself into you until your lips curled around his base. You couldn’t help, but moan. “Lucifer, fucking hell,” he growled. He repeated this a few more times before he backed away from you again, his breathing growing labored. You never took your eyes away from his as you spun around and got off the table.

Kneeling in front of him again, you looked up at him with your tear-stained face and doe eyes sparkling. You started stroking his length before you took him in your mouth, tongue swirling around his swollen tip. Then you licked down his shaft until you took his balls in your mouth, gently sucking on them. He groaned as his head fell back. After you licked back up his length, teasingly slow, and took him back in your mouth did you begin bobbing your head up and down. When you moaned again, his hands tangled in your hair again. This time it wasn’t to cause you pain, but to find purchase and ground himself. “Fuck,” he hissed. He was close. You could see it. You could feel it. So you took his hips in your hands, digging your nails into his flesh. Looking up at him, you subtly nodded to him. His fingers curled and pulled at your hair. He sloppily thrusted into your face again and soon you felt his hot seed spilling down the back of your throat as he cried out.

He slumped forward somewhat as his high waned. You stood up, making sure to catch his dichromatic gaze as you did. You wiped the corner of your mouth and swallowed every drop he had given you. He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you feverishly. As you gripped his wrists, he pulled you to him, pushing you back toward the stacks of books behind you until they met your back. You eyed him hungrily as your hands reached for his shirt, your nimble fingers sliding down as you unbuttoned it. Not even bothering to shove it all the way off him, you let your hands explore his chest. The only thing you heard was each other's heaving panting. He was on your lips again the second you made eye contact with each other, his tongue diving down your throat, doing an exploration of its own.

You moaned as you hooked your leg up on his hip, pulling him even closer to you. Resting his forehead on yours, he held your face in his hands, thumbs caressing your cheeks. “Time for a reward, sì? La mia brava ragazza (my good girl),” he cooed softly as he sank down on his knees.

Your breath got caught in your throat as he lifted up your skirt to dive under it. “Oh fuck,” you breathed as he dragged his nails up your thighs. Throwing your leg over his shoulder, he dove right in, his tongue lapping up your wetness seeping from your slit. You moaned again as his nose nudged your clit and his tongue dipped inside you. Your right hand grabbed at his hair under your skirt while your left was sliding up and around on the shelves behind you as you tried to find the best angle to help keep yourself propped up.

Taking his tongue out of you, he dragged it up to your bundle of nerves that were desperate for attention and started to suck on it as his tongue swirled around it. “Shit, s-shit!” you cried out. “Right… th-there. F-fuck. Fuck, Terzo. Don’t you fucking dare stop.”

His ministrations stopped, but only to shove two of fingers inside you. You mewled loudly; it didn’t matter if anyone was nearby or not. They could enjoy the free show at this point. Just as he had before, he was hitting your g-spot as if this was the thousandth time. You were seeing stars, but what you wanted to see… was him. “W-wait, wait, stop!” you panted. You were so close, you couldn’t finish just yet. You tapped him twice and he stopped before you could pinch him. He rushed out from your skirt, a confused look on his face that glistened from your arousal.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said as you discarded your skirt. “I want to watch. I want to watch you make me cum,” you said lustfully as you perched your leg back onto his shoulder. Your hand threaded into his hair, holding on tightly as he resumed where he had left off. This time, his pace returned to that of the first time he had you like this. You bucked into his face, adding even more friction. “Holy fuck, yes. Terzo, please, don’t stop. P-please. Fuck! There! Yes! I’m cumming! I’m–”

Removing his fingers from you, he aggressively rubbed your clit. You opened your eyes just in time to see him get showered with your juices as they streamed out of you. And that man lapped it up like it was his first drink of water after a hike in the desert. You sunk back into the stack behind you as he looked up at you through wet lashes. He looked like he got caught in the beginning of a downpour – and it was probably the hottest thing you’d ever seen. Maybe you should fuck the people you hate more often if this was the result, because… this was still hatred you felt burning inside you. It had to be…

Afraid your shaky legs would give out on you if you tried to move, you stayed frozen in place. At some point your hand attached to Terzo was helping keep you upright on the shelving behind you. He stood up in front of you, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him. When you were secure in his hold, his finger hooked under your chin, directing your hazy eyes to him. “Can you give me one more, amore?” he softly asked you. Eagerly, you nodded. He tilted his head, giving you a warning look. “Is la streghetta at a loss for words?”

“Yes,” you said, still nodding. “One more.”

“Va bene (okay), hard or easy?”

Your eyes darkened as more lust flared up in them again. “Don’t take it easy on me.” His lips curved up into a half smile that turned into a menacing smirk.

A sharp gasp fell from your lips as he spun you around so you were facing the books in front of you. One hand reached in front of you, circling the sensitive bud between your legs. Your head fell back onto his shoulder, while his other hand encapsulated your throat. “Do you still hate me?” he questioned through his teeth as his hips bucked up into you, using your ass to provide himself with the friction he needed.

“Yes,” you moaned wantonly.

You felt his breathy laugh on your ear as his grip tightened around your neck. The blood supply being cut off shot pangs of heat right down to your center just as he removed his hand from there. The whine you were about to make died in your throat as you felt him dragging his cock through your still sopping folds. With a squeeze to your throat, and a bite to your shoulder, he pushed himself inside you. You wanted to be so irritated at how perfectly he filled you up, how your walls stretched to accommodate him, but you couldn’t, at least not right now. Not when it felt so good. Most of all, there was no hiding it from him. Not when the pornographic sounds were spilling out of you. The war was lost way before it even began.

At first, his thrusts were slow. It was like he was committing how you felt around him to memory. You mewled when he hit that perfect sweet spot. And then came the attack.

With steady rhythm, he mercilessly pounded into you. Sounds of skin slapping skin, your unrelenting moans, the heaviness of both your breathing, filled the room. There was nothing else going on in the world, not in that moment. In that moment, there was just you. And there was just him. Coupled with the feeling of ecstasy. All you could do was claw at the shelves in front of you.

You felt the coil tightening again. With your head still back on his shoulder, you could feel your legs growing weak. His arm enclosed around you. His forearm pressing against your lower abdomen introduced a new sensation of pleasure that turned your vision white. Or maybe that just from the way his hand was still constricting around your throat. Probably both, but whatever the cause was, you didn’t care.

“A-aga– I– I’m–” was all you managed to say as you felt even more of your juices gush from between your legs. He bit down onto your shoulder again as he moaned wantonly with it. You could feel he was about to pull out of you, probably to release his spend on your face, but you managed to wrap your arm around his back, letting him know to stay in place.

With his erratic thrusts your arm fell. The overstimulation made it so the only words you could get out were “Inside. Cum inside.” As if on command, you could feel him emptying himself into you, filling you with his seed. After his hips stopped, you both stayed as you were. The hand on your throat slid down and across your waist as he held you there. He supported you as you put your weight back on him and your hands covered his.

Time stood still as you both caught your breath. Once your breathing returned to semi-normal, did he finally pull out of you. You sighed at the feeling of emptiness.

Hesitantly, you stepped forward. You felt shaky (in the best possible way), but you weren’t going to fall over. “Hold on, amore.” You heard him whisper as you folded your arms on the shelf in front of you and rested your head on them. You hummed in response, staying where you were. You closed your eyes, basking in the blissful peace that was settling over you.

Behind you, you could hear the rustling of his clothes and his footsteps as he walked back over to you. In your near boneless state, you didn’t even register the absolute mess that was dripping from you until you felt soft fabric between your legs. You looked down to see Terzo cleaning you up with one of his gloves.

“See? These Mickey Mouse gloves are good for something,” he teased.

You let out a genuine laugh. “Grazie,” you said tenderly.

“That’s as good as we can get for now,” he said once he finished, punctuating his sentence with a couple light pats on your ass.

Playfully, you rolled your eyes and shook your head as you turned to go put your skirt back on. He followed suit. As you were smoothing out your outfit, he was doing the last few buttons on his shirt. You surveyed the scene around you. “I kinda feel bad for the Ghoul that has to clean this up,” you giggled.

Terzo just smirked at you as he put his arm around your shoulders, guiding you both out of the library at a very leisurely pace. Wrapping your arm around his waist you said, “For the record, I still hate you.”

He rolled his eyes at you. “Has anyone ever told you that you are very stubborn, principessa (princess)?”

“Nope, never,” you said with an exaggerated smile.

His light laughter was cut short when you both noticed someone grumbling with their head down as they headed towards you. "Buonasera, fratello. Little late for a library visit, no?”

Secondo looked up at the sound of his brother’s voice. You could see his eyes scanning over the two of you, taking in the disheveled sight. The annoyed look permanently etched on his face deepened. “I could say the same to the both of you.”

“I was minding my own business before this stronzo bothered me,” you said.

“Bothered is a funny way to put it, principessa,” Terzo grinned.

“Why are you here this late, Secondo?” you quickly asked in hopes of preventing Terzo from saying an offhand comment. The way one of Secondo’s eyebrows raised in suspicion wasn’t lost on you.

“An uncrossing spell. One of the Ghouls fucked up. Again,” he glowered. “And it’s falling to me to fix, since someone was unreachable.”

You tugged at Terzo to start walking again, too tired to deal with Secondo’s disgruntledness. “Of course, they did. Well, just, um, don’t go too far past the restricted section.” You and Terzo exchanged a look before picking up your pace. “Buonasera!” you added without looking behind you.

Secondo saw both yours and Terzo’s shoulders shaking with laughter. He just shocked his head as he continued getting the book he needed. “About fucking time…” he grumbled.

#the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #terzo #papa terzo #terzo emeritus #papa emeritus iii #terzo x reader #terzo x female reader #papa emeritus iii x female reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #terzo angst #terzo smut

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honey-tongued-devil · 10 months

Text

What if I make some Satanic Popes x sister of sin prints? Haha… joke… unless…

I don’t know if is there an active fandom, but if you have any reference pic you can send it via dm or request. This is obviously a sketch, I want to make it easier to understand that he is Terzo

#the band ghost #ghost bc #the ghost band fanart #sister of sin #papa emeritus lll #papa emeritus fanart #papa emeritus the third #nameless ghoul #papa emeritus iii #ghost terzo #papa emeritus secondo #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus x reader

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eternal-kosmo-ghoul · 7 months

Note

AS MY TREAT I WANT THE MOST SILLY, GOOFY AAA HCS OF THE PAPA'S.

Like idk Copia used to have to wear earplugs because Terzo snores so loudly it's literally obnoxious or something like that.

“aww my middle finger likes you”

❤︎ synopsis — this is pure bullshittery and crack in its finest form with the papas. they can be a little crazy at times

pairing: all papa emeritus’ x gn!reader (can be platonic or romantic)

theme: crack ✦ , fluff ✿ (if you squint)

a/n: this is a toast to my bestie for being an absolute chad. i was high making these, enjoy.

cw: terzo is a warning enough on his own. that’s it.

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➵ papa primo

he’s the oldest so he constantly has to deal with the shit from his psychopathic brothers

like— primo is basically THE mom friend, except he’s the mom for moe, larry and curly over here

(moe, larry and curly being secondo, terzo and copia)

he constantly had to hold back secondo from beating the shit out of terzo because terzo made fun of him for being bald

“I’M GONNA RIP OFF YOUR WEAVE—“ “SECONDO NO—“

bro unironically listens to weezer

like full out busting down a just dance move to this music

you once caught him dancing to it, and he stood there frozen like the man emoji

he told you to never speak of it again and you just nodded, trying to plague your mind of that horrendous image

primo cannot cook for shit too btw

you were once out and asked him to make something before you got home to the ministry

the minute you walked in the door, the kitchen stove was on fire and all of primo’s ghouls were running around and screaming in infernal about the fire

meanwhile, primo stood there not knowing what to do, looking like the man emoji AGAIN

it’s basically his trademark at this point

“…. primo what the absolute fuck—“ “it wasn’t me i swear.”

while primo’s ghouls were still learning english, he once said “fuck you” to you in a very sarcastic way

but the ghouls thought it was how humans said “hello” in english

so they went around to the other siblings of sin, and sister imperator saying “fuck you” to them while leaving all those poor people offended and dumbfounded

you smacked the back of his head after that and forced him to apologize to his ghouls and to the siblings of sin (plus imperator of course)

and he gave the ghouls extra scritches too

primo also has the dad sneeze

like he can send another universe to the next tomorrow with his goofy ass sneeze

he once sneezed so loud he scared copia and caused him to bang his head on the wall

it was kinda funny tbh

anyways yeah note to self stay 10000 feet away from primo if he’s on the verge of sneezing

it’ll save your life

┅✦┅

➵ papa secondo

secondo has two moods

“oh my satan you’re all so stupid i literally hate you all” and “tee hee i’m a girly girl”

like ??? what’s this guy on???

this guy has the sass of a high school history teacher

like secondo’s being so deadass about whatever he’s saying but he’s always fucking saying it like—

“c’mon now, you literally have the style of a hairless roach 💅”

it confuses you a lot of the time, really

secondo has his moments where he’s sweet, but for the most part he’s pulling up the middle finger to everyone he sees

it’s a habit

someone could say hi to him in the nicest way possible and he’ll just grumble and flip them off

it’s not even that he’s trying to be mean, it’s a habit (a very bad habit)

you once got tired of it and smacked his hand, when he flipped you off. so it’s safe to say he no longer does it

at least to you

secondo is an absolute menace to his brothers

with primo he’s chill because he’s the eldest, but with the younger two he’s got no chill

definitely made copia cry at some point during his younger years

he later got his ass chewed out by you and primo, because no one makes copia cry

secondo’s literally so bossy it’s kinda funny

he’s always one flip flop away from smacking someone every time someone pisses him off

him and terzo are BEEFING all the time

and it’s over the stupidest shit too

“you’re stupid.” “well, you’re face is stupid” “you’re both stupid, end of the discussion.”

you once switched out all of his skull face paint for a pink barbie pallet

so secondo was walking around lookin’ like hello kitty emeritus and everyone was trying so hard not to laugh

even his ghouls were struggling too

“… secondo—“ “not. another. word.”

┅✦┅

➵ papa terzo

bro’s the fuckin’ definition of fruity

you thought secondo was girly pop?? wait ‘till you see terzo, he’s fucking extravagant

will literally show up in the grocery store lookin’ like a character ripped straight from criminal minds

like— he has to make a show EVERYWHERE he goes. he likes to stand out

terzo is also the type of man to wear skirts and dresses because he knows he’s hot shit and he devours every fit he puts together

he shows off that waist frfr

“… terzo what the fuck—“ “shut up you know i’m sexy and i’m going to show it.”

if you wear skirts or dresses he’ll definitely ask to borrow them

he definitely passed down his fruitiness to copia

and to his ghouls

he scams kids on adopt me and has a good laugh every time because he likes to see people get mad at him since he stole their hella expensive pet from them

primo told him to quit it because what kind of satanic pope scams poor little children on a roblox game?

as stylish as terzo is, he cannot do his hair and makeup to save his life

he’ll usually ask you to do it for him wherever he has to perform or do public events, which is why his face paint is simple compared to secondo and primo

it gives you two bonding time though and it’s cute

he once watched the pinkie pie smile hd video and was traumatized for a few days

like he straight up locked himself in his room and would not come out unless you convinced him to do so

during an after party after a concert ritual, he got so wasted and almost kissed omega

like you had to PRY this man off of the poor ghoul, while omega stood there unaffected (hehe tall buff demon boy)

terzo is the shortest emeritus and none of his brothers will let him live it down

ESPECIALLY copia, since he’s younger than him

terzo almost kicked him in the nuts because of that

but that definitely was a stab to his already massive ego

you reassured him that there’s nothing wrong with his height even though you found some of the jokes his brothers made funny

live laugh love terzo

┅✦┅

➵ papa copia

copia doesn’t know what he’s doing half of the time

like he’s just given a mic and he just wings a performance while the ghouls on stage are fucking around and going absolutely feral

out of all the papas, copia legitimately treats his ghouls like his own kids

he feels like he’s getting more grey hairs every time he has to stop swiss from fucking his own guitar, or sodo and phantom from fighting about cheese sticks

you sometimes help copia do ghoul-sitting and it’s just chaos. you’re literally their second parent

copia and you = parent duo for the era iv ghouls

he unironically owns a lot of funko pops

and he keeps the one of himself on a special pedestal in a glass case for safe keeping

though secondo almost once knocked over the case and he was three seconds away from smiting a bitch

you once were looking for copia because you wanted to ask him something and you found him in a ritual room

except the ritual was that he surrounded himself with a bunch of rat plushies and he was on his knees in front of a picture of a rat with a tiny crown

you were so confused, and he refuses to acknowledge what that was

“…. copia i—“ “you didn’t see anything.”

he fucking washes himself with dish soap and laundry detergent

this man is going around smelling like dawn dish soap and it’s so weird

it’s not that it even smells bad??? it just smells so interesting and strong you swear you’re in a fever dream

copia is an avid mitski fan

definitely cried his eyes out like a little bitch when he first listened to “the land is inhospitable and so are we” because he couldn’t get over how sad “my love mine all mine was”

radiates theater kid energy

but like— the kind of theater kid that is just passionate about theater and is very giddy when people ask about it

when he started his first meeting as papa he got so nervous that he straight up started the meeting with the word “mushroom”

like it’s so random ??? but it made the ghouls and you giggle so it somewhat worked out ??

copia is a little silly

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#ghost bc #ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus x reader #papa x reader #papa primo #papa secondo #papa terzo #papa copia #copia x reader #terzo x reader #primo x reader #secondo x reader #crack fic #crack headcanons #ghost bc crack #the band ghost #ghost x reader #ghost bc x reader

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ghulehunknown · 7 months

Text

Papa’s Worship

Terzo x F Reader

Day 4 of KINKTOBER is here! 🎃

**WARNING: EXPLICIT, NSFW**

Also available on AO3!

“Papa’s Worship”

CW/Tags: CMNF, feminine reader, vaginal fingering, oral sex (cunnilingus), female body worship, female orgasm

Summary: Terzo needs to give you pleasure after Black Mass…

Word Count: 1700

After Mass, you started to help rearrange the Unholy Books and papers left behind. Those damn ghouls, you thought to yourself. Always such a mess with them.

“You go ahead,” you called to your sisters, and they obliged, either knowing your evil scheme or just happy that someone offered to pick up the slack so they could leave early. You wanted to take as long as you could to rearrange the chapel while you waited for your beloved. Terzo and his entourage left from one of the side doors, slipping away to Nihil’s private office. God, how would you know when he’d be done now?

Around 20 minutes passed and you couldn’t find anything else to pass the time. You finished up your duties and began to walk down the corridors very slowly, taking a longer path to get to your room. You heard running footsteps coming down the hall, quicker and quicker until -

“Amore mio,” Terzo whispered breathlessly into your ear as he wrapped you into an embrace. His chest was heaving - he was actually out of breath! The man who said he’d never be caught dead doing cardio. (“I am already in such great physical shape, no?” he would say whenever the ghouls would try to get him to come along to the gym.)

“Terzo!” you cried, wrapping your arms around him and kissing him. “Were you…running?” you asked, incredulous.

“Si amore, I had to come to you, mio amato,” he said, cupping your chin in his strong hands. “Those motherfuckers,” he growled, “they wanted to keep me there forever. I thought, enough with this shit! I need my bella donna seeing stars.” He gestured with both hands, mimicking an explosion.

“How did you get away?”

“Ehhh,” he said with a shrug. “Told them I had to shit.” You both laughed. So crass, your Papa.

“I see someone doesn’t give a fuck what the Clergy thinks now that you’re in charge,” you said still laughing.

“Fuck them, fuck that old man, and fuck that annoying Copia too, with his fucking - ” he trailed off, vaguely mimicking the Cardinal’s lanky gait and outlining his upper lip with his finger as if drawing the Cardinal’s thin mustache. (“I want that old bastard to take a paternity test, there can be no way I’m related to that little shit!” he’d say afterwards whenever Copia corrected him during meetings.)

He grasped you by the waist. “All that fucking matters,” he said sexily, “is making you wet beyond sin.” He bit your jawline then kissed you there.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and guided you in the opposite direction, down another hall to his Papal suite. He led you in, where candles were already burning and the plush purple bedsheets laid taut.

Papa must have sent a ghoul in to tidy up his room, because your morning makeout session left the bed a mess, and nearly made him late to his meetings. You didn’t go further earlier this morning, as he begged you to tease him so he’d have a raging hard on during Mass. And his robes didn’t quite conceal it either.

He closed the door, and now you were completely alone. “Fucking finally,” he said, sighing heavily and looking very relieved. “We’re alone.”

You blushed as he kissed you deeply, running his fingers through your luscious hair. You caressed his biceps while he began kissing your neck, tickling your earlobe, brushing your collarbone. He unlaced your bodice, exposing your bare chest. He swirled your nipples in his mouth, alternating breasts until you were breathing heavily. He sighed deeply, content to be within your bosom and taking his time.

“Take me, Terzo, please,” you whispered. “I want you.”

“Shhh Sorella, these things take time. I will please you as I see fit. And you shall have me.” He picked you up effortlessly and carried you to his king sized bed, setting you down gently and continuing kissing your breasts. He removed your habit, and threw it to the ground. “Mmmm, you delicious naughty, naughty thing,” he murmured, excited to find you had not worn panties to Mass.

You blushed again. You had hoped to flash him your ass at some point while bending over to grab the Unholy Books, but fucking Imperator was behind you the whole time.

“You wicked succubus, you wanted to leave your juices for the staff to clean off the pews?” He whined. “Ho bisogno di ti. You’re all mine, all mine,” he said between kisses. He ran a hand down your body, sending chills down your spine. He made his way to your inner thigh, and began to tease your entrance. He was practically giddy. “Mmmmm, so fucking wet, sweet Lucifer. I need to taste you.”

You caressed his face, and ran your hands through his raven hair. You looked into his beautifully mismatched eyes and he felt like home.

“Mia splendida donna, amore mio, I want to thank you. You have been so patient with me as I’ve navigated all this…” his voice trailed off as he waved the air. “…shit. It has not been easy being Papa now, but you…you make things so much easier.”

“It’s not an easy job you’re doing,” you said, dismissing any of your own stress. You touched his face with your fingertips, noticing the extra wrinkles in his forehead and the bags now under his eyes.

He took your hands in his. “Sorella, I adore you. Let me worship you.”

You moaned as he caressed your clit with a gloved hand. He inserted his index finger into your entrance and made a “come hither” motion, driving you wild and making you cry out his name - (‘oh Terzo!’). “Yes Sorella, call my name,” he said. He played with your clit again, making gentle yet firm circles. He traced the letters of your name on your flesh with delicate ease. He continued to kiss you softly while he touched you.

“Come,” your Papa commanded. He knew by the sound of your breathing how close you were. He could practically command you to orgasm, one of his many devilish talents. He drilled his middle and ring fingers into your dripping cunt, circling your clit with his thumb. He cupped the back of your head with his other hand and kissed you passionately. Fucking Lucifer fuck, he was skilled. He had obviously been paying attention to Copia’s sermon on fingering - or perhaps Terzo had told the Cardinal just how to do it, to one-up him?

The leather from his gloves only heightened the experience, filling your cunt. “Come for me, please,” he whispered into your ear, practically pleading. “Would you sing for your Papa?” He kissed you again.

Your back arched as you felt your orgasm take over. Moaning into Terzo’s mouth as you came was one of your favorite things; feeling him inside you and right next to you all at once made you blush all over like a schoolgirl - he could see exactly how you reacted to him. You lost control of your entire body as a wave of pleasure engulfed you. He continued kissing you through the wave of pleasure.

“Yes that’s it, moan, Principessa,” he whispered, peppering your face with sweet kisses as you came down from your high. You came to and caught his gaze, love and adoration in his eyes. He snickered, and looked down at your chest, which was practically beet red. “Yes I always know I have done a good job when all the blood rushes to your heart,” he placed his left hand over your heart. “Almost as if your love for me is contained in one place. Mio cuore, mia vita,” he continued, bringing his gloved fingers dripping in your cum into his mouth. “Mmm, you taste so sweet.”

Still breathing heavy, you held your beloved’s face and kissed him over and over, making up for the stolen kisses you’d not exchanged all day. He took his gloves off and held you close. The warmth from his hands was welcoming and comforting. He held you to his chest for what seemed like an eternity, and you could stay there forever.

“I need to piss,” he said, breaking the silence. Both of you laughed.

“Terzo!” you exclaimed, feigning annoyance and playfully hitting him in the chest. He pretended to be wounded. Your Papa was so blunt, and so playful. You coyly brought the sheets to cover your indecency but he only tore them off again and laughed.

Suddenly he hopped up and went into the master bathroom. “Silly me, I forgot something,” he said, returning only a second later. You mumbled, and rested your eyes, almost falling asleep on the pillow. He spread your legs quickly and slid his tongue along your still wet folds. The tip of his tongue wildly flicked from side to side. Still sensitive, you yelped and bucked your hips but your Papa was stronger. He laughed again, almost evilly. “Still so wet for me, my brava ragazza,” he said. “You didn’t think I’d let your cum go to waste, eh?”

Your eyes rolled back as he drank from your cunt, desperate for you. He moaned but you could hardly stand to be touched anymore, the overstimulation driving you wild. “Fucking hell!” he exclaimed excitedly, finally satisfied. He hovered over you, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. His Papal face paint was smudged all over, and you could see his faint laughter lines beside the corners of his mouth. Yes your Papa was getting older, you thought sadly. But he still fucked like a young man.

“Tomorrow, you tie me up to this bedpost and smother me with that beautiful cunt, si?” He grabbed your chin in his hand and kissed your cheek. “Smother me in that pussy, Sorella, don’t let me up for air until I’ve pleasured you fully.”

“Yes, my love,” you said, giving him another smooch. Your scent lingered on him as he got up from the bed.

He cursed Lucifer’s name and spoke Italian, but you think he murmured “deliziosa figa,” as he trailed off to the bathroom finally.

He poked his head from the bathroom door. “And when I get back, I’m going to fuck you into that mattress so hard you’ll forget your name.”

Italian to English Translations

- Amore mio (my love)

- mio amato (my beloved)

- Bella donna (beautiful woman)

- Sorella (sister)

- Ho bisogno di ti (I need you)

- Mia splendida donna (my amazing woman)

- Principessa (Princess)

- Mio cuore, mia vita (my heart, my life)

- deliziosa figa (delicious pussy)

#the band ghost #ghost bc #terzo #terzhoe #ghost terzo #terzo x reader #terzo smut #terzo my beloved #terzo emeritus #terzo fanfiction #papa terzo #papa emeritus iii #ghost band smut #ghost band fanfic #papa emeritus terzo #papa emeritus smut #papa emeritus x reader #ghost smut

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fishwithtitz · 8 months

Text

Was It Worth It? (Cardinal Terzo x Reader)

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

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Cardinal Terzo x AFAB reader / 6.2k words

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

aO3 link

Part One: What Goes Up...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Despite his request, you stayed stationary.

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

“Do you need a hug?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was the beginning of the downfall.

🜏🜏🜏

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re always worth it.”

🜏🜏🜏

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

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

Only tears.

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

Image Credit(s): Pinterest

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ramblingoak · 8 months

Note

good morning kisses+ you're gonna get lipstick all over me with:

Ribz I took your prompt and gave it a vampire twist, I hope you like it!

Breakfast in Bed

Secondo x Female Reader ~ The perfect start to your new life as a vampire

Warnings: vampire violence and all that entails, biting, blood, more blood, sharing a meal vampire style, fingering, oral sex, p in v sex, soft!vampiric!Secondo, rough sex, nsfw, 18+ only mdni, 2400 words

It was strange waking up after you died.

You weren’t struggling to breathe, gulping down huge breaths of air. Technically you didn’t need to breathe anymore although Secondo said you might still do it out of habit. The first thing you became aware of was the feel of the cool sheets against your skin. You used to make fun of Secondo’s demands when it came to thread count, but now you were nothing but thankful for his pickiness as you laid there naked.

With a soft groan you stretched out, spreading your limbs wide on the large bed as you started to look around the room. Secondo had promised you that you wouldn’t wake up alone but there wasn't a sign of him anywhere. The thick curtains were drawn over the windows and the only light came from a few dim lamps scattered around the room. You planted your elbows beneath you to push yourself up but a horrific cramping in your stomach had you gasping and dropping back onto the bed.

The pain was more intense than anything you’d experienced before. Even more than how much it hurt when Secondo had bit into your neck. You moved a hand up to where his teeth hand sunk in, expecting to feel broken skin but there was nothing. Your skin was smooth and cold to the touch. No sign of what he had done to you, of what you had asked him to do to you.

You had asked him to make you a vampire.

The Emeritus family being vampires was a horribly kept secret in the church. Most of that was due to Terzo, a man that couldn’t be discreet about anything. But with their status as vampires being well known amongst the congregation it provided them with ample opportunities to feed. Most Siblings of Sin were more than willing to expose their neck or wrist to one of the brothers. You counted yourself among them although Secondo’s favored place to bite you was at the inside of your thigh. Your flesh there was often marred with bruises and bite wounds from your Papa.

But that was before last night. Before he bit into his own wrist and had you drink from him. You could still taste him on your tongue and you unashamedly rubbed your thighs together when you thought of how erotic it had been.

“Look at you.” You froze at the sound of his voice, looking around the room for him without luck. When he spoke again you turned your head toward the foot of the bed and had to stifle a moan as you watched him walk out of the shadows towards you. “How do you feel, belezza?”

“It hurts.”

He tsked at you, shaking his head as he climbed onto the bed fully nude just like you were. In a stark contrast from yours his skin was warm as he placed his hands on your ankles. They moved up and down your shins in a soothing motion all while he held your gaze.

“Where does it hurt?” You moved a hand to rest over your belly, biting your lip when his eyes wandered down to watch as you rubbed it over your soft flesh. “I know why it hurts there, belezza, and I know how to fix it.”

“How?”

Secondo smiled, his fangs glinting in the light as he answered you.

“You need to feed, my darling.”

He turned and held a hand out behind him, reaching out into the shadows. With bated breath you listened to the soft footfalls of a visitor as they moved closer to the bed. A sister you hadn't seen before emerged into the light and you could taste her fear in the air. Secondo wrapped an arm around their waste and tugged them hard enough they fell across his lap and over your legs.

“Is she...is she for me?”

“Si, she’s yours. Ripe and ready to help you complete your transformation.” He reached for the poor girl’s neck and swept her hair aside. “Sister Dana agreed to help you, right sister?”

When she didn’t answer, Secondo grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her neck back. She cried out, a wounded noise escaping out of her throat at the treatment. Before tonight you would have stepped in to reprimand Secondo. You would have told him to stop playing with his food.

But now you were too hungry to care.

You managed to sit up, finding it easy to ignore the pain when every cell in your body was screaming for the blood pumping through the sister’s veins. Your hands flexed nervously in the bedding though, not sure what your first move should be.

“Would you like me to show you, belezza?”

All you could manage was a frantic nod, but Secondo didn’t seem to mind. He leaned into the sister’s face and gave her a kiss on each cheek. You could see her cheeks blushing from the attention, her mouth falling open when he dropped kisses down to her jaw. He kept going until he was at her throat, right over her jugular. Secondo murmured a few things in Italian before opening his mouth and sinking his teeth into the poor girl’s neck.

“Papa!”

Her voice was loud and panicked, echoing around you. She tried to say something else but the only other noise she could make was a garbled sob as her own blood filled her mouth. Your stomach clenched painfully as you watched it drip down her lips and slide down her neck. With a deep, animalistic growl Secondo pulled off and ran his tongue up to her jawline to collect the spilled blood. The sister clawed at Secondo's chest, tears gathering in her eyes when all your Papa did was give her a cruel smile in return.

“Hush little lamb, you promised to be good.”

You could tell his words weren’t registering. A pained grimace had taken over her face as she struggled to breathe through the blood. Secondo chuckled darkly before he leaned in and captured her mouth in a deep kiss. After a few moments he held out his hand for you and you took it without a second thought, pulling yourself up and across the bed to press against his side. Your eyes fell to her neck, to the blood pumping from the wound and you eagerly fell forward to lap at it.

It was amazing. The taste of her blood slid across your tongue like wine. It was warm and rich, coating the inside of your mouth before dripping down the back of your throat. With a frantic moan you clutched her, pulling her away from Secondo to hold her more tightly against you. He moved so he was at your back and you could feel his hands on your shoulders, feel as they slipped around your front to cup your breasts. He pinched at your nipples, harder than usual but the pain was good, it was so good. You needed more of it.

You sank your teeth into her flesh, feeling it tear as you bit at her harshly. The wound easily opened wider and you started noisily sucking her blood down. One of Secondo’s hands started moving down your stomach, his hands bare and smooth on your skin. When he reached your cunt his chest vibrated against your back with a laugh.

“Wet for me already?”

Without warning he pushed two fingers into your dripping entrance, groaning as your body eagerly accepted them. You could hear the wet sounds of him pumping them in and out even as you continued to suck as much blood out of the sister as you could. Secondo’s fingers started working faster, brushing against that spot inside of you he never failed to find. In and out, over and over again. Your orgasm was getting closer and closer and right as you teetered on the edge he pressed his mouth to your neck and bit down.

The feeling of his teeth on you again made everything inside and around you shatter. You pulled off the sister’s neck and fell back, letting Secondo catch you. The sister fell backwards at the foot of the bed, her eyes blank and unseeing as they stared up at the ceiling. There was blood still oozing from her mouth and neck, the sight making you growl and want more. Secondo cooed into your ear, gently turning your head towards his and then capturing your mouth in a kiss. He growled at the taste of blood there and the kiss turned sloppy as you each chased the blood smeared over each other. With a deep groan he eventually pulled away, smiling softly at you before tilting his head towards the pillows.

“You should get some more rest, my darling.”

You pouted as you scooted back towards the head of the bed, you’d rather stay in his arms a little longer. Both of you were now warm from the blood you had drank but it felt good to be in his arms regardless. His face paint was now smeared and mixed with blood although it did nothing to hide his handsome features. If anything it made you desire him even more now that he had finally turned you. You felt yourself getting wet again as you took him in and you relaxed further back into the pillows, opening your legs a bit to try to entice him closer. Secondo took a deep breath, a feral grin forming on his face. He remained still though and you stuck your bottom lip out further, wondering what was stopping him.

“Secondo, come here.”

“One moment, belezza.” He reached out for the sister, her chest barely moving with her shallow breaths. You were surprised she was still alive, but as you watched Secondo lift her wrist to his mouth you figured that wouldn’t be the case for very long. “We shouldn’t waste our breakfast.”

The softest of whimpers escaped the girl’s mouth when he bit into her again. He was oddly gentle about it but that might have been because he was staring at you while he fed from her for the final time. You held his eyes as you slid a hand down your chest, stroking over your breast before going further to your cunt. His eyes followed your fingers as you started to tease at your clit, rubbing over it in tight circles as he watched. When you moved down and slipped them inside of you he abruptly dropped the girl’s wrist, her blood dripping from his lips and dropping onto your ankles as he loomed over you.

“Such a naughty thing, teasing your Papa.”

He leaned down and began to kiss your skin, his lips pressing into random spots all the way up to your thighs. In the light you could see the bloody lip marks he was leaving, almost like lipstick, some with a hint of black from his face paint. Secondo brought his hands up to the inside of your thighs and pressed them further apart so he could settle close to your cunt. You were still moving your fingers inside of you and his eyes followed them, his hot breath grazing your skin as he moved his head closer.

“Secondo, please.”

You were ready for him to tease you some more, but in one swift movement he grabbed your wrist and pulled it away so his mouth could replace your fingers. His deep groan as he tasted you vibrated through your whole body. The grip he had on your thighs got tighter as he circled your entrance with his tongue a few times before dipping it in as far as he could. When you were able to look down at him you could see where your juices had mixed with the blood and paint he was already wearing.

Secondo looked absolutely feral as he hungrily licked and sucked your cunt. You reached out with one hand and grabbed his head, your fingers sliding along his scalp for purchase. He seemed to take the hint and buried his face even deeper against you, his nose pressing perfectly at your clit. You were so close, so close to the edge again. Gasps and whimpers were escaping you non stop as Secondo fucked you with his tongue. You were about to start begging for something, for anything, to push you over when he finally moved his lips up to your clit, sucking on it right as he shoved two fingers inside of you. He rubbed them along your walls perfectly right as he nipped your clit and you were gone, your whole body shaking as your orgasm ripped through you.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there recovering, the only thing that made you finally stir was Secondo’s lips moving up your stomach. When you mustered the energy to look down he was kissing you between your breasts. The area around his mouth shone with your release and you let your head fall back with a groan. He laughed against your skin, his breath exhaling on your neck as he continued to move up. When he was finally hovering over you, his eyes bright with laughter and love, you couldn’t help but laugh as well. You reached up and traced down the bridge of his nose before resting both your hands on his broad shoulders.

“Will it be like this forever?”

He grinned before leaning down and capturing your mouth in a kiss. You mewled as you tasted yourself on his lips, especially when you caught just the slightest hint of blood lingering in his mouth. When he pulled away and sat up to kneel between your legs you pouted at the loss of his mouth. Secondo just grinned again and moved his hands under you to grip your ass and lift you off the bed. You wrapped your legs around his waist on instinct and he moved one of his hands to grip his cock.

“Are you ready for forever, belezza?”

Before you could respond he started pushing into you, relentless and without stopping. His thick cock stretched you like his fingers never could and you reached out to dig your nails into his arms as the pleasure and pain rolled over you. He didn’t stop until he was buried all the way, his hips flush with yours. It was so good you couldn’t help but let out a joyous laugh. The thought of forever with Secondo, like this, was amazing.

“If forever means I get to wake up like this every day, then yes.”

Secondo laughed as he gripped your waist tighter, easily lifting you up so he could start fucking you at the perfect angle.

“Anything you want, belezza.” His pace increased, punishing and pleasurable, his mismatched eyes staring into yours as he fucked you. “Anything.”

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