ghoulez-vous

[ghoulez-vous]

𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐏𝐀𝐏𝐀

( gender neutral reader x papa i-iv / hurt/comfort / sfw / under read more for length )

How each Papa would comfort their lover who is going through difficult times.

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐨

It’s the sort of hug that washes away all of your sorrows: tender, gentle, but firm enough to remind you that he’s there for you. He’s the most lithe of the Emeritus brothers but his hugs envelop you regardless of his figure. The scent of freshly cut roses and sandalwood is strong and you can tell that he’s abandoned his garden to be there for you. His head is nestled in the crook of your neck as he whispers meaningful words of wisdom in Italian that would help with your daily worries. Other times he remains silent, simply being there for you. He can read you like a book and knows exactly how to wash your pain away with a hug, even if it is momentarily. His hugs are a gentle reassurance of his love for you and it pains him when you leave his embrace. He parts with a gentle kiss on your cheek, rubbing the back of your hands with his thumbs. Although he’s disappointed that you have to part, the sight of you makes him smile with a warmth that he never though possible. You know you’ll make it through your troubled times with him by your side, with all his wisdom and adoration for you.

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨

It’s the sort of hug that makes you focus on him, and only him. Any negative thoughts are replaced with the sensation of his firm grip and intimidating frame that melts at the mere sight of you. The scent of his cologne is strong and he’s dressed in his mitre; he must have been getting ready to attend to his duties as Papa. No work was more important than you. The Clergy would manage without him for a while, and a quick glance at a nearby ghoul signalled that the message be passed on. You’re his primary focus now, a large hand caressing your hair as you press your face into his chest. His heartbeat is slow and steady but it speeds up a little with every squeeze that you give him and he begins to suspect that you’re doing it deliberately. His other arm is wrapped tightly around your waist, his head resting atop your own. Although he is the most stern of the Emeritus brothers, you can tell that he is worried from the way that he refuses to take his mismatched eyes off you. His embrace is secure and unyielding; he wants you to know that he is there for you, and that you are his priority. Nothing else mattered while you were nestled in his arms.

𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐨

It’s the sort of hug that nearly knocks you off your feet: desperate but soothing. You’re not certain who needs it more. Before you can open your mouth, you’re in Terzo’s demanding arms. His face is buried in your shoulder, occasionally placing a chaste kiss on the exposed skin of your neck when he feels your grasp on him loosen. He smells of the expensive cologne that you bought him for his birthday. However, you can also smell your own scent; he must have been sleeping with your garb again. Words of Italian fill your ears, his breath tickling your neck as he whispers sweet nothings that comfort you both. He sways slightly, moving your body with him in a soothing manner. It’s hard to focus your mind on your worries when you’re wrapped so firmly in Terzo’s arms. It’s an embrace that you both needed. After you’ve calmed down, he’ll reluctantly part from you and lead you to his room where he can attend to you properly. There’s a freshly laundered comforter on his bed and you knew that Omega must have seen you both. He pulls you down onto the bed with him, your back flush against his chest. From there, he holds you as long as you both need.

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚

It’s the sort of hug that starts off tentative but grows in strength. He’s so worried about you and it shows in his body language. He’s shifty, toying with the hem of his sleeves. His brows are knitted together as he begins to speak but hesitates. At first, Copia approaches you slowly to assess the situation and see what you need, worried about upsetting you further. You lock eyes for a moment and he can tell from your gaze just what you need. An arm slinks around your waist as he draws you closer, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips. You return the kiss before reluctantly leaving his embrace as he guides you towards the sofa. Brushing aside empty juice boxes with an apologetic glance, Copia urges you to sit down with him, patting the plush pillows. He’s wearing his favourite red tracksuit and Vvlgari t-shirt and you knew that he had been relaxing after yet another exerting ritual. The dark residue of skull paint still lingered around his eyes, and you could tell that he was exhausted to the point of putting little effort into his evening routine. You curl up beside him and bury your face in his chest, hands grasping his soft jacket as he gently stroked your hair. You both needed this.

[ghoulez-vous]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄

( nsfw ) cardinal copia x ghoulette!reader / eventual smut / angst / mild descriptions of violence / emotional hurt / other tags to be added / ao3 link

You are a Nameless Ghoul, a servant of Satan and now the mysterious Clergy. Once a terrified newly summoned ghoul, you soon became well respected amongst the other ghouls and Siblings of Sin. You grew attached to the young Copia, a new Sibling. Much of his youth was spent at your side, from his integration into the abbey to his ordainment as cardinal.

Forbidden love and diverging expectations make for tragic fates. An organised, infernal tragedy occurred and your bond was shattered.

Is it possible to rebuild what was lost, or are you truly destined to remain apart?

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈: 𝐌𝐞𝐚 𝐂𝐮𝐥𝐩𝐚

Smouldering flames flickered amongst the dying hearth, illuminating the room with a sickly amber hue. The heady scent of smoke permeated every section of the lounge. All were mere remnants of an eventful night, hosted in the abbey. It was a reward for their diligence, an evening of debauchery reserved for the Siblings of Sin, ghouls and even the reigning Papa and his relatives should they choose to join.

Pacing past the unsightly scene, Copia’s footsteps resounded through the room, only occasionally muffled by a torn blouse or long abandoned undergarments. A bleary eyed figure rose from a maroon chaise longue, displaying a lackadaisical demeanour despite his degraded state.

“Buongiorno, Cardinal. I see that you didn’t join us last night.”

“Terzo.” Copia’s gaze couldn’t help but linger on the man for a brief moment, exasperated by the Papa’s macabre form. Obscenely smudged lipstick stains decorated his already unkempt face, black and white blending together where once perfect skull paint had been. His hair was no longer neatly parted. Strands of raven hair were plastered to his flushed cheeks and sodden brow, the vast majority of his hair completely fluffed up.

Morning prayers had been delivered by Cardinal Copia himself rather than the lackadaisical Terzo, and the latter of whom’s absence had been noted by none other than Sister Imperator herself. It was a dangerous game to play, particularly given the reason for his absence.

“I see that you had an… enjoyable night.” Pinching his brow, the cardinal couldn’t help but shake his head lightly in disappointment.

“Si, Cardinal. Enjoyable. Not that you would know, of course.” Yawning loudly in a way that could only be described as obnoxious, Terzo couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at Copia’s weary features. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You haven’t been to an orgy yet, have you?”

“Well, you see….” He fumbled his words. “They’re not my thing, fratello.”

“Abstinent, are you? What a boring way to live.” With the grace of a newborn ghoul kit, Terzo attempted to rise to his feet but was defeated by his own groggy state. Instead, he elected to recline upon the maroon velvet chaise longue, acting as if that was what he had intended to do in the first place.

A loud tut could be heard from the dark entrance, sparing the flustered Copia from Terzo’s incessant teasing.

“Terzo. Not again.”

A disgruntled Sister Imperator was a petrifying sight but a perturbed Secondo could strike terror into even the most formidable of hearts.

“Ah, Secondo! How kind of you to join us. I was just telling Copia here that he needs to get his cock wet. Perhaps that would cheer him up, si?” The reigning Papa piped up, a lopsided grin on his beguiled face.

“Silence, stronzo.” Secondo’s intimidating form proceeded to step further into the hushed room.

To be Papa was the greatest honour one could receive within the confines of the abbey. A strong individual whose priority was in serving the ministry, a role model of sin to spread the word of their Dark Lord. Despite his success in performing, Terzo was lacking in discipline, and it had not gone unnoticed. He was, however, exceedingly popular with the lesser members of the clergy. A charming and witty man that knew precisely how to please and rally favour from those around him was bound to be well-received.

“When I recommended that you dedicate more personal time to our followers, I did not mean that you should fuck them during your established work hours.” A snarling tone accompanied every harsh word that Secondo uttered. Early mornings made for a particularly gruff former Anti-Papa.

“It is not my fault that I am popular, fratello! You also attended many an orgy during your time as Pa-“ Terzo blurted out a feeble attempt at resolving the conflict but was swiftly cut off by his brother.

Secondo leaned in closer, teeth gritted. “And do I hold the role of Papa now?” He rose a hand in Terzo’s direction and promptly drove a finger into his chest three times, each contact more forceful than the last. “Sciocco pigro. Fai il tuo lavoro correttamente.”

An exasperated Copia waved his hands between the two, an uneasy smile on his painted lips. “Now, now, I think Terzo has been scolded enough. He’s learned his lesson. Isn’t that right, fratello?”

“Si!” Terzo flashed the two men a valiant grin though he couldn’t conceal the mischievous glint that flashed in his eyes.

It was more of a formality than anything; Terzo would absolutely do it again.

“Mm, Terzo’s idiocy aside, I can’t deny that the idiota has a point, Copia.” Secondo’s painted lips curled up into an undeniable smirk. It was no secret that Copia was considered the least virile of the upper clergy and the man was more than aware of it.

Confounded, the cardinal found himself exceedingly grateful for the ghostly pale paint that virtually concealed his rosy blooming cheeks. He opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words to string out. An unsteady hand sought a distraction and he reached up to set his hat straight despite knowing that it sat perfectly neat atop his head.

“Is it because of her? The ghoulette?” Terzo blurted out with little consideration of the consequences.

Secondo flashed Terzo a look that clearly said ‘not now’, his permanent scowl faltering as his mismatched eyes widened somewhat.

“How many years has it been now? We all miss her, Copia, you need to move on.” Ever ignorant of Secondo’s warnings, Terzo continued forth with his insensitive line of questioning. “She was Primo’s ghoul first. It was his sangue that drew her from the Infernal Depths.”

Copia opened his mouth to respond in anger but couldn’t choke out a single pained syllable, his chest tightening in a manner that would have made tears sting his eyes if he wasn’t set on retaining any semblance of dignity. His muscles tightened under the emotional strain, jaw clenched so tightly that he feared he might damage his teeth.

The silence was unbearable as it set upon the room, each clergyman unable to break it lest the full weight fall upon their shoulders.

“Come now, Terzo. You need to freshen up before tonight’s ritual,” Secondo grimaced as he took charge. “You look awful. È imbarazzante.”

“Awfully handsome, si?” Terzo released a tense laugh, smoothing down his ruined shirt. “Say, Secondo, are you still fooling around with that maid? Cook? Gardener? I can’t quite recall.”

“Terzo.” The second eldest Emeritus son growled, letting the other man know that he was truly on thin ice.

“Alright, alright, no need to give me that look.” With an exaggerated sigh, Terzo glided towards the exit. A dramatic flick of the wrist that was intended as a nonchalant wave goodbye and the reigning Papa had drawn himself through the doorway to wreak havoc at his intended destination, most likely.

Copia wasn’t certain how long he had stood idly in the same position but the gentle amber glow of morning had been replaced with the burning sun overhead. A brief glimpse to the left would reveal that the fire was no longer smouldering, only soot and lumps of charcoal remaining. Each audible footstep to his room echoed in his head as he rushed to his place of comfort: his personal chambers. It felt as though he were drowning in his sorrow, his throat tight and body trembling. ‘How befitting of a pitiful cardinal,’ was the only thought that remained comprehensible in his mind as panic prevailed. Siblings whispered amongst each other as the fleet-footed man swept past them apathetically, ignorant of an occasional hasty greeting.

As Copia finally reached his penultimate destination, he slammed the white door shut and slumped down against it. Tears threatened to prick his eyes as he clamped a hand over his mouth, dry sobs wracking his body.

It had been years since the incident had occurred. Many years of unknowing, confusion, and regret. Each anniversary went unnoticed by all except for himself, or so he thought. He was so lost in his own grief that he didn’t care for the brief glimpses that Secondo took at the calendar, the fresh flowers that Primo laid at the rite ritual altar, the special bottle of amber whiskey that Terzo used to drown his sorrows. Whether it was through selfishness or concern for his brothers, he wasn’t certain.

He blamed himself for his frailty. It had been a betrayal of the utmost sort.

You were a close friend, a companion, a paramour. It was a relationship burnt to ashes. In which pit of Hell did she reside, he often found himself wondering. Had the others of her pack accepted her amongst their rankings once more, or was she treated as an illicit kit? There was no way of knowing.

Forced summoning of a ghoul was a dangerous procedure, and one that could only result in suffering for all those involved. Copia couldn’t help but find his mind wandering to the painful memories that were bound to him like thorns that sought to bleed bare flesh. He had made you suffer, and to bring you back in an agonising process would be selfish. What if you didn’t want to return to this world? What if you despised him for his meekness?

Regardless, he knew not of the painstaking process to do so. The ancient rite was closely guarded by the Bibliotecarie.

‘You cannot drag a hound from hell, lest it feast upon your throat.’ Sister Imperator’s harsh words resounded in his mind. ‘Is that a price you would be willing to pay, Cardinal? To risk not only your life, but that of your companions? Regardless, the hound left of her own will.’

‘She left because you forced her.’ Copia had wished to raise his voice and hurl cruel words at the woman. ‘I did not abandon her.’ He had snarled in retaliation, uncharacteristic of him.

When it came to matters involving you, his precious companion, he was no longer the meek cardinal. If another emboldened Sibling threatened to harm you due to your status as a Ghoul, an infernal servant of the ministry, the typically meek man would have risen to your defence with balled fists and a booming tone.

Alas, that time, of all times, he had been weak.

He was like a kicked dog with his tail between his legs, muzzled and shaking. Although he disagreed, he remained silent. Guilt wracked his body, its foul claws driven deep into his chest as it flayed him where he stood.

A human and a ghoul were the perfect conjugation of sin, but it was not an appropriate bond for eternity. Copia was bound for a greater purpose. Sister Imperator had reminded him that day, drying his endless tears with a silken tissue.

You were merely a ghoul, a bestial servant of Satan intended to kneel before the members of the clergy.

To Copia, you were his first, and his last. Or so he had intended.

Drawing his trembling knees close to his heaving chest, he reached for the ivory pillow that lay to his side and buried his face in the soft fabric. The darkness soothed him, allowed for positive memories to glow forward and drown his anguish. Visions of sleek horns, bouts of contagious laughter and interlocked hands.

~~~

The sounds of harrowing hellfire howled in your ears, your bestial claws engraving cavernous marks into the dense surface. Tortured souls begged for mercy, pleading with whatever God they wallowed under in the waking world. Their pleas would not be heard, not in this infernal place, nor anywhere else. You paced forward towards the threat, your ears drawn back tightly against your skull in a threatening display. A fire ghoul was your current foe, well accustomed to the blistering flames of this circle.

The Pit was the physical manifestation of the phrase ‘kill or be killed’. Ghouls would rip each other apart over any slight conflict if they were not affiliated with a pack. A mere scornful glance to a quarrel of which soul they wished to torment, conflict was inevitable almost always fatal. For now, however, there was no need for conflict. Your bared canines and honed claws were enough for the fire ghoul to concede defeat and saunter off in the direction of more vulnerable prey. Even the flames of Hell paled in comparison to the inferno that had engulfed you on that terrible day. Harrowing burn marks could heal, but the emotional scars lingered despite your time spent in The Pit.

Did he think about you? Had you been a mere servant of the clergy all along?

You weren’t certain, nor did you care. The gnawing sensation in your core screamed that was not the case, but you had to push it aside. You didn’t have to continue fighting and slaughtering your kin yet you did.

There was no time to mull over it any longer. A particularly dangerous foe, an earth ghoul, had locked onto you. Forked tail wrapped around your thigh to prevent it from becoming a weak spot during combat, you launched forward in an attack with twenty years of anguish behind it.

[ghoulez-vous]

𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐎

Terzo has returned from a world tour with thousands of adoring fans. However, his insecurities have caught up with him. Fortunately, his beloved Sibling of Sin has taken notice.

I received a request from a friend asking for hurt and comfort with Terzo x GN!Reader so of course I had to deliver! I’ve never written any Ghost fanfiction before so it was a lot of fun.

The AO3 link is here.

Full text is below the cut.

Word Count: 1.2k

It was the day after the grand after party of the most recent ritual tour, and you had finally been granted permission to be relieved from your duties for an evening. Terzo was an exceptionally busy man, and despite his hangover and exertion from servicing you all night after his return, had been expected to return to his duties immediately. This had, of course, taken an unfortunate toll. Although he was viewed as the most flamboyant Papa to date, he was also the most anxious. Any form of criticism affected him greatly, in particular when the source was from within The Clergy itself.

They were utterly ruthless.

You had used your spare key to inspect his private quarters in an attempt to find the man but it was to no avail. His room was utterly pristine, as clean as it had been when he had left for the tour. There was no sign of his presence.

If he was not in his private room, you knew precisely where he would be: the small ritual room where you had first met him as a new sibling.

“Terzo?”

Your voice resonated throughout the frigid room, windows carelessly left open despite the forming chill outside. Gentle taps resounded as you took careful steps towards the dark bundle in the corner that quivered rhythmically in the distance. As you drew closer, the vague twitches slowed until they had dissipated entirely.

“Amore.” A voice croaked out in the darkness, pale features only illuminated by the moonlight that fell from beyond the withdrawn curtains. “Please, leave me be. I am fine.” His words were shaky and meek, the opposite of that which were the trademark of the charismatic frontman. Terzo’s reassurance was formed with the aim of two purposes: to comfort you, and to convince himself that he was indeed alright. However, his quivering lip and anguished gaze did little to support his attempt at comfort.

“Oh, Terzo…” Closing the distance between you both, you crouched down and sat beside him, caring little for the dust that gathered upon your garments. “Let me hold you, yes?”

Strands of raven hair were drawn through your fingers, massaging his scalp rhythmically. His stiff demeanour immediately lifted as he collapsed in your arms, melting at even the simplest of touch. A soft hum left his lips as his cheek laid upon your chest, listening silently to your paced breathing and the sound of your heartbeat. His hand raised to touch your own, his face shifting silently so that he could kiss your palm softly. The faint dampness of his drying tears could not be ignored. You bundled up your sleeve in your hand to dry his eyes.

How long had he been here for?

“Is it your duties?” You queried, brow furrowed as you continued your motions.

“Si, tesoro…” He paused, his tone muffled against your palm. Although he wished to blurt out his concerns, his fear of retaining his position as Papa Emeritus III, he drove them further within himself. “I missed you, amore.”

“And I missed you too, Papa.” You leaned down to kiss his forehead gently. Although it felt impossible, he somehow melted even more in your arms, his weight falling further into you. “You don’t need to speak. Just let me hold you, yes?”

He shifted upwards, drawing you closer until his neck fell upon your shoulder, his ragged breath hit against your exposed skin. Soft lips fell upon your neck, a tender gesture despite his delicate state. You were his solace. No other individual had noticed his internal conflict nor considered visiting him once he had served his responsibilities as Papa Emeritus III.

For now, he was simply Terzo, disarmed in your loving embrace.

As he pulled away, you cupped his cheek in your hand. His skull paint was smudged, no longer laid with pristine care. Every feature on his skin was utterly familiar to you, each crevice of aging skin memorised by your deft hands. He was not the young Cardinal you had met years prior, but Papa Emeritus III, following in the footsteps of his older siblings. His idols had been brandished as failures; Primo was too lackadaisical, Secondo had been far too indulgent and lost his way.

He was on his own, with no one to truly guide him. His brothers offered support and their own advice, but what good were they when they had been disgraced in being removed from the title of head Papa?

Without speaking, you leaned down to give him a tender kiss, your free hand running through his loose hair. His faint hum was stifled against your lips, lifting his head to draw you closer to him. It was rare for him to be so meek. Typically, he would drag you closer and hungrily nip at your lips until they parted, slipping his tongue inside to taste you as swiftly as he could. For now, your body was nestled upon his own, sharing each other’s warmth in a chaste manner. The rise and fall of your chests was shared, a sign that you were both present in this tender moment.

A sign of reassurance.

Tonight, however, he was vulnerable. He had abandoned any concern of displaying weakness before a Sibling of Sin, a fellow member of the clergy. You were his, and he was yours. It was only natural that you would support each other in your times of need.

“Amore mio,” Your lips parted briefly as Terzo began to speak. “Do you think I am… enough, si? That is, I serve The Ministry well?” His glassy mismatched eyes sought your own, desperately seeking your answer. Although he gave his all during the rituals, he was aware that he did not meet his quota at the abbey itself. He was far too easily distracted from The Message, the trademark of a hedonist. You had inadvertently returned him to the path expected of him, but the scornful eyes of those in power behind the curtains were inescapable.

Was it too late for him?

The more youthful Cardinal was essentially his prodigy, hot-blooded and primed to step upon the stage.

His copy.

A cold chill descended his spine.

“Terzo.”

Your sweet, familiar voice rose above his panicked thoughts. His heart, pounding with anxiety, soon slowed as you stroked the back of his neck, peppering kisses all over his jawline, cheeks, and finally his nose.

Terzo could not help but chuckle at the black paint that now stained your lips and lower face, leaning forward to nuzzle you once more. White makeup was now blotched above the black paint, staining it a slate grey.

“Oh, tesoro, what would I ever do without you?” He hummed, voice little more than a hushed whisper.

“Do not even think about that, Terzo.” You smiled sweetly, pressing a lazy kiss against his lips. “I will never leave your side.”

He could not help but laugh at your endearing words, his throat longer raspy from the tears he had shed prior.

“I trust you, amore.” Terzo smiled, his trepidation no more. “Per sempre.”

[ghoulez-vous]

𝐋𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐀

Papa Emeritus II x GN!Reader / NSFW / MDNI / Short Drabble (~900 words) / Smut-ish

After a particularly rowdy Celebration of Sin, you decided to continue the night in Secondo’s room. Unfortunately for you, you’ve slept in and are now late for your morning duties.

Ao3 link is here

The night of debauchery and lust had been replaced with the eerie calm of morning. An amber glow dripped into the room through breaks in the curtains that had been shut haphazardly, owing to the rowdy antics of earlier. As you rose unsteadily from your slumber, you noticed the trail of clothes that led from the door to the king-sized bed that you were laying in.

Groaning softly, you shifted to reach for your discarded shirt. There was no need to check the clock; you knew from the glowing sunlight outside that you were at least an hour late for your duties. Sister Imperator would hold true on her punishments as she always did. Late-coming was considered a fairly serious offence, you had learned. She did not like to be kept waiting.

Secondo’s papal garments lay in plumes of noir and ivory, his negligence leaving them creased in a manner that would make the Laundry Ghoul’s eye twitch. Evening mass had been a Celebration of Sin hued with writhing bodies and ritual blood, a night that was not over even after you had both escaped the blasphemous room.

Your fingertips were a mere inch away from the silken shirt when a strong arm pulled you back.

“Sorry, Papa. I didn’t mean to wake you up.“ Your swift apology was almost instantaneous at the man’s rough grasp. Ending up in Sister’s bad books were awful enough, but irritating Secondo was another matter. “I’m late for my duties. I’m expected in the library.”

“I was already awake, amore.” Secondo hushed away your concern with a veil of thinly guarded deceit. His lie was all but conspicuous, betrayed by the grievance that lay across his tone.

Secondo was in no way, shape or form, a morning person.

In all the time you had spent together, there was something special about his morning voice, still gruff with sleep. Although he despised waking up early in the morning, you made it far more bearable. The first time that you had slept together he had expected to wake up to a cold bed as he typically did, but you had stayed.

Your hair was a complete mess and papal paint was smeared carelessly across your face and torso, the remnants of last night still lingering. Although it was an unfortunate mess, you couldn’t help but enjoy it as a reminder of your joining.

“Don’t worry, tesoro.” He drew you closer until you could feel his comforting warmth against you, your figures pressed tightly against each other.

It was all too simple to drown in his blissful lasciviousness, as was the danger of affiliating with a Papa on a carnal level. Truly accepting sin into your heart had been as simple as an illicit personal meeting with Secondo as you were taken against the ritual altar. You were but a pitiful little lamb led astray by a hungry wolf, and he adored you for it.

“Why rush? You’re already late, aren’t you?” He murmured into the crook of your neck, a contented hum leaving vibrations over your exposed skin.

Secondo’s hands brushed your unkempt hair aside so that he had easier access to your nape. It was far too tempting to sink his teeth into you and leave red weals to bloom purple across your skin. However, the other Siblings knew that he belonged to you, and he wasn’t so insecure that he would mark you for them to see. It was far more enticing to bruise your thighs, reaching for them and digging his fingers into them to remind you who you belonged to as you passed him in the grand corridors.

His breath tickled your ear as he buried his face in your neck, peppering kisses against the sensitive skin. You couldn’t help but release a light moan, melting under his touch until your back was pressed flush against his front. Closing your eyes, you focused on the heat that was beginning to form at your core, his roaming touch only stirring it more. You couldn’t see his stern features but you knew that his lip would be curled slightly in a smirk. He took every pleasure in making you surrender so easily. He was well aware of the effect he had on you.

“We can keep Sister waiting a little longer, si?” His calloused hands gripped your hips tightly, skin white under his firm grasp. “I’m in charge of punishments this week, I believe.”

You nodded eagerly, a light whine desperately escaping your throat as he released your hip and reached for your aching front. Secondo released a low grunt as you began to grind your hips against his already growing arousal, his piercings grazing against your ass. However, he once again took hold of your hips, denying your advances. You couldn’t help but groan in frustration which only elicited a faint chuckle from him.

What a tease.

“As much as I care for you, I won’t spare you,” he crooned in your ear. “Though I don’t think you would want that even if I was inclined to do so, amore.”

“Si, Papa.” You bit your lip in anticipation as he finally rose from the bed with deliberate motion, a hint of dark amusement radiating from his stern gaze.

“Sdraiarsi. La notte potrebbe essere finita, ma non ho finito qui.”

English Translation

“Sdraiarsi. La notte potrebbe essere finita, ma non ho finito qui.” / “Lie down. The night may be over, but I'm not done here.”

[ghoulez-vous]

just wanted to let you know i fucking love your username

thank you so much!!!!!

i spent way too long trying to think of something serious but (in typical me fashion) i ended up going silly

[ghoulez-vous]

𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐎

Terzo has returned from a world tour with thousands of adoring fans. However, his insecurities have caught up with him. Fortunately, his beloved Sibling of Sin has taken notice.

I received a request from a friend asking for hurt and comfort with Terzo x GN!Reader so of course I had to deliver! I’ve never written any Ghost fanfiction before so it was a lot of fun.

The AO3 link is here.

Full text is below the cut.

Word Count: 1.2k

It was the day after the grand after party of the most recent ritual tour, and you had finally been granted permission to be relieved from your duties for an evening. Terzo was an exceptionally busy man, and despite his hangover and exertion from servicing you all night after his return, had been expected to return to his duties immediately. This had, of course, taken an unfortunate toll. Although he was viewed as the most flamboyant Papa to date, he was also the most anxious. Any form of criticism affected him greatly, in particular when the source was from within The Clergy itself.

They were utterly ruthless.

You had used your spare key to inspect his private quarters in an attempt to find the man but it was to no avail. His room was utterly pristine, as clean as it had been when he had left for the tour. There was no sign of his presence.

If he was not in his private room, you knew precisely where he would be: the small ritual room where you had first met him as a new sibling.

“Terzo?”

Your voice resonated throughout the frigid room, windows carelessly left open despite the forming chill outside. Gentle taps resounded as you took careful steps towards the dark bundle in the corner that quivered rhythmically in the distance. As you drew closer, the vague twitches slowed until they had dissipated entirely.

“Amore.” A voice croaked out in the darkness, pale features only illuminated by the moonlight that fell from beyond the withdrawn curtains. “Please, leave me be. I am fine.” His words were shaky and meek, the opposite of that which were the trademark of the charismatic frontman. Terzo’s reassurance was formed with the aim of two purposes: to comfort you, and to convince himself that he was indeed alright. However, his quivering lip and anguished gaze did little to support his attempt at comfort.

“Oh, Terzo…” Closing the distance between you both, you crouched down and sat beside him, caring little for the dust that gathered upon your garments. “Let me hold you, yes?”

Strands of raven hair were drawn through your fingers, massaging his scalp rhythmically. His stiff demeanour immediately lifted as he collapsed in your arms, melting at even the simplest of touch. A soft hum left his lips as his cheek laid upon your chest, listening silently to your paced breathing and the sound of your heartbeat. His hand raised to touch your own, his face shifting silently so that he could kiss your palm softly. The faint dampness of his drying tears could not be ignored. You bundled up your sleeve in your hand to dry his eyes.

How long had he been here for?

“Is it your duties?” You queried, brow furrowed as you continued your motions.

“Si, tesoro…” He paused, his tone muffled against your palm. Although he wished to blurt out his concerns, his fear of retaining his position as Papa Emeritus III, he drove them further within himself. “I missed you, amore.”

“And I missed you too, Papa.” You leaned down to kiss his forehead gently. Although it felt impossible, he somehow melted even more in your arms, his weight falling further into you. “You don’t need to speak. Just let me hold you, yes?”

He shifted upwards, drawing you closer until his neck fell upon your shoulder, his ragged breath hit against your exposed skin. Soft lips fell upon your neck, a tender gesture despite his delicate state. You were his solace. No other individual had noticed his internal conflict nor considered visiting him once he had served his responsibilities as Papa Emeritus III.

For now, he was simply Terzo, disarmed in your loving embrace.

As he pulled away, you cupped his cheek in your hand. His skull paint was smudged, no longer laid with pristine care. Every feature on his skin was utterly familiar to you, each crevice of aging skin memorised by your deft hands. He was not the young Cardinal you had met years prior, but Papa Emeritus III, following in the footsteps of his older siblings. His idols had been brandished as failures; Primo was too lackadaisical, Secondo had been far too indulgent and lost his way.

He was on his own, with no one to truly guide him. His brothers offered support and their own advice, but what good were they when they had been disgraced in being removed from the title of head Papa?

Without speaking, you leaned down to give him a tender kiss, your free hand running through his loose hair. His faint hum was stifled against your lips, lifting his head to draw you closer to him. It was rare for him to be so meek. Typically, he would drag you closer and hungrily nip at your lips until they parted, slipping his tongue inside to taste you as swiftly as he could. For now, your body was nestled upon his own, sharing each other’s warmth in a chaste manner. The rise and fall of your chests was shared, a sign that you were both present in this tender moment.

A sign of reassurance.

Tonight, however, he was vulnerable. He had abandoned any concern of displaying weakness before a Sibling of Sin, a fellow member of the clergy. You were his, and he was yours. It was only natural that you would support each other in your times of need.

“Amore mio,” Your lips parted briefly as Terzo began to speak. “Do you think I am… enough, si? That is, I serve The Ministry well?” His glassy mismatched eyes sought your own, desperately seeking your answer. Although he gave his all during the rituals, he was aware that he did not meet his quota at the abbey itself. He was far too easily distracted from The Message, the trademark of a hedonist. You had inadvertently returned him to the path expected of him, but the scornful eyes of those in power behind the curtains were inescapable.

Was it too late for him?

The more youthful Cardinal was essentially his prodigy, hot-blooded and primed to step upon the stage.

His copy.

A cold chill descended his spine.

“Terzo.”

Your sweet, familiar voice rose above his panicked thoughts. His heart, pounding with anxiety, soon slowed as you stroked the back of his neck, peppering kisses all over his jawline, cheeks, and finally his nose.

Terzo could not help but chuckle at the black paint that now stained your lips and lower face, leaning forward to nuzzle you once more. White makeup was now blotched above the black paint, staining it a slate grey.

“Oh, tesoro, what would I ever do without you?” He hummed, voice little more than a hushed whisper.

“Do not even think about that, Terzo.” You smiled sweetly, pressing a lazy kiss against his lips. “I will never leave your side.”

He could not help but laugh at your endearing words, his throat longer raspy from the tears he had shed prior.

“I trust you, amore.” Terzo smiled, his trepidation no more. “Per sempre.”