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Letting their cock slide between your folds without pushing in, just resting it there and going "oh sweetheart it's gonna be tight but we'll make it fit yeah?"
When you’re pawing at him, leg wrapped around him, grinding and humping and whining in bed and he finally puts his book down with a quiet sigh and pulls of his glasses like “Alright alright baby, I’ll give you what you want…” and then he flips you over and starts grinding his cock—which is hard because of your pawing—through your folds.
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NSFW Papa V Perpetua x afab!reader, 4.3k words, sequel to this.
Summary: You and Perpetua, falling hard, finally get the night off you’ve been longing for.
A/N: Finally! This probably could use more edits but I’m calling it good. In the end I couldn’t decide why Perpetua wears a mask in this universe, so feel free to imagine anything you like underneath.
After what passes for breakfast on the tour bus, you text Perpetua: I made the executive decision to upgrade our room.
Oh? Using your powers for evil? (I approve)
Not like a suite-level upgrade, but it would get us a fridge and a microwave, and a slightly nicer bathroom.
Are you implying that we’ll have some cleaning up to do this evening?
I mean, hopefully right? ;) But mainly I’m thinking of dinner. Unless you have any must-try restaurants on your list I think tonight’s a good night for room service.
There is no restaurant even half as enticing as having you all to myself, angel. <3
He actually did the less-than-three heart. You bite your tongue to keep from making any undignified noises—the rest of the crew does not need to know about any of this. In that case, let’s put in an order as soon as we get there, and then once it arrives we’re in for the night. We can wait and eat whenever we get hungry…however late that might be.
I like the way you think. It’s a plan.
***
Upgrade secured, you walk over to the venue, only a few blocks away. You amuse yourself observing the other pedestrians, guessing which of them will be in the crowd tomorrow night. Ghost shirts are an obvious tell, of course, but Doc Martens are almost as likely. Some of them are pacing around the building, scoping out the entrances—either figuring out where to line up at the crack of dawn, or planning to try and catch a glimpse of the band after the show.
Inside, the arena is buzzing with activity as the stage goes up and the backstage is reorganized to the band’s liking. Getting setup done today means everyone can have a leisurely morning tomorrow. You hear snippets of conversation as you weave through the halls, people talking about restaurants to try and tourist attractions to check out.
But your to-do list only has one item, and you find him with his ghouls as they check over their instruments. “Morning, all,” you say.
“Ah, just the person I wanted to see!” Perpetua’s not even trying to hide his smile. You catch glances shared between ghouls—oh, they know. “Will you walk with me back to the green room? There’s a logistical matter I wanted to talk to you about.” Aurora shoots a look at Phantom, neither managing to conceal their glee.
“Of course, Papa.” You fall into step beside him, waiting until you’re a decent distance away to speak and even then keeping your tone professional. “I got your room change confirmed, as requested.”
“Excellent, thank you.”
“Was there anything else you needed for tonight, or the morning? I’ll have a window to do some shopping this afternoon, if you like.”
“I’ll think about it. Here we are.”
He waves you into the green room, and shuts the door. You have a moment to take in cinderblock walls and Ikea couches before he pulls you into a rib-crushing hug. “Fuck, I missed you.”
“Missed you too.” You nuzzle at his neck to breathe him in, and you can’t help it, you have to kiss that spot that worked so well yesterday.
Perpetua flinches. “I’m never living that down, am I?”
“I have to get you back for that recording, that was diabolical.”
“Look who’s talking.” He loosens his grip enough to kiss you properly but you can’t let it go too far, much as you might want to.
You steer him to a couch, sitting close enough to touch but far enough for plausible deniability if you hear someone coming. “So,” you say, “I get off at four.”
“Oh do you now?” You can’t see his eyebrows, but you’re sure they’re raised.
“You’re terrible.” Perpetua sticks his tongue out at you, and oh dear god how can he stick his tongue out that far stop it focus damn it. “My shift ends at four, is the point, so I’ll try to get to your room as soon as possible after.”
“And call time tomorrow is two o’clock, yes?”
“Yeah, so we’ll have very nearly a full day.”
“Finally.” He gives you one of those impish little grins. “You’ll have time to get sick of me.”
“Impossible.” You knock your knee against his. “We’ve been out here together how long? And you’re still my favorite?”
“You’ve never had to room with me though. I could snore.”
“Do you?”
Perpetua’s expression turns a little wistful. “It’s been so long since I’ve had anyone to tell me, I don’t know. Maybe I do, now.”
“Small price to pay, to wake up next to you.”
It might have become a moment, but there’s footsteps in the hallway. You both flinch and move apart until they fade into the distance. Perpetua sighs. “All right. We’ll do our jobs, and then in…five hours and twenty-three minutes, I’m yours.”
“Any requests from out in the world? Supplies or snacks or anything?”
“Hmm… a bowl of M&Ms with all the blue ones taken out.”
“Oh, someone thinks he’s funny.”
“Aren’t I?” He walks with you to the door and kisses you, soft lips drawing you in even as you’re supposed to be leaving. He rests his forehead on yours, the metal of the mask warm from his body heat. “Five hours and twenty one minutes.”
“We’ll make it.” Neither of you move to leave. It strikes you that this is where you’d say ‘I love you’ if this were that kind of thing. Maybe by the end of tour it will be. Instead, you say “Let me know if you need anything, anything at all.”
“I will.” He kisses your hand. “And you do the same, angel.”
***
You text him an hour later. You know the ghouls have us figured out, right?
I’m sure they do, but I’m not going to say anything. I want to see who breaks first.
My money’s on Phantom.
See I’m thinking Dew, he enjoys teasing me.
***
We were both wrong, Perpetua texts midafternoon. Cirrus just threatened me if I treat you poorly.
Aww! Tell her she’s my favorite.
I thought I was your favorite?
You’re absolutely my favorite Papa <3
***
Of course it couldn’t be simple. With just a few minutes to four o’clock three different people had come to you with keycards that didn’t work, and there’d been a trainee at the front desk gamely trying to fix it and taking extra time to double-check every step to make sure he did it exactly right, bless him. Five more minutes became ten became twenty…
But you dealt with it. It’s fine. The cats have all been herded, everyone has a working key, and you’re finally in the elevator, overnight bag in hand and officially off duty until call time tomorrow. Anything else that happens tonight is someone else’s problem. You reach the room, try your key…
…and it doesn’t work.
Nope, fuck that. You knock. “Perpetua?”
“Angel?”
“Could you open the door, please?”
It takes him a moment, but he does, looking slightly flustered. “Hi.”
“Hi.” You slip inside and shut the door quickly, even though there’s no one else in the hall right now. “I don’t have a working key.”
“Oh no! Do you need to go back, or—?”
“Absolutely not, if you’re cool with it I’ll just be stuck in here with you.”
“I don’t mind one bit.” He pulls you in for a hug, and you can’t help but wilt against his chest, just a little. “You okay, honey?”
“I’m fine, sorry. Just decompressing.”
Perpetua hums, rubs your back. “C’mere and relax, we’ve got a nice chaise.”
Even nicer than the chaise, though, is snuggling with Perpetua. He pulls you to lay on top of him, your head nestled against his chest, your hips cradled by his thighs. The stresses of the afternoon slowly melt away in his gentle warmth. He even smells delicious, something rich and sweet that’s settled into his skin. Even with a compelling plan for the evening, part of you thinks you could stay just like this for… longer than you want to let yourself think about.
You trace your fingertips over the well-worn cotton of his shirt, outlining the logo of some death metal band with a near-unreadable name. And if you happen to trace over anything sensitive, well, who could blame you? On your second pass over his nipple Perpetua chuckles, and drags a finger slowly up the back of your neck, making you shiver. “Two can play at that, angel.”
“Okay, you win,” you murmur.
“I think we both win.” His eyes are shadowed by the mask, but you still see the fondness in them. “Shall we get that dinner order in?”
“Right. Dinner. That’s a thing we’ll want.”
That finger is still tracing along your neck, the nail dragging a tingle across your skin. “Or I guess dessert, for me. Since I’m having you for dinner.”
“Smooth.”
He grins. “I try.”
You search the room but there’s no menu, it’s only in the hotel’s app. Perpetua grumbles about digital-only nonsense until you get him back on the chaise, sitting between his legs with your back to his chest. You scroll through the menu, picking out a few appetizers and, at his insistence, chocolate-covered strawberries. “Do they have champagne?” he asks.
“I mean, yeah, but which limb do you want to sacrifice for it?”
“What’s rock star money for, huh?” He holds you closer, hands splaying over your belly. The tension in the room tightens like winding a guitar string a little too far. Perpetua kisses the spot just under your ear. “Let me spoil you a little.”
“Right.” With slightly shaky fingers, you add it to the order. “You get to explain it to Frater when it comes up on the expense report, though.” You set the order time to ASAP; the confirmation email gives a thirty minute estimate. “So. We need to stay presentable for another half hour at least.”
“I have faith in us.” He takes your phone, sets it face-down on the table, and pulls you to lay back against him. You feel the edge of the mask at the top of your head, where he leans his face against you. His hands are smoothing over your torso, fingertips just barely catching beneath the waistband of your jeans.
Perpetua nestles his hand between your legs, thumb resting in the crease where thigh meets hip, fingers gently rubbing over your center. “Every night I’ve thought about this,” he says softly. “Having you in my arms, giving you every pleasure I can.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He presses a little more firmly, rubbing his middle finger up and down the seam of your jeans. “The number of times I’ve come from the thought of making you come… can’t remember the last time I came without thinking of you, actually.”
Your whole body feels warmer, heat radiating from his hand. “Way ahead of me. I can’t even remember the last time I came, period.”
“Honey!” He sounds truly shocked. “Really?”
“Dude, I’ve been on a bus or sharing a room this whole time, there’s been no chance.”
“I thought those pre-show kisses might’ve sparked something.”
“Oh, there’s always been sparks, just nowhere to let them catch.”
“Not even a dressing room?”
You snort. “I have some standards, sir.”
“Clearly not, if you’re cavorting about with me.” His free hand slips under your shirt. For a moment you just breathe, let his touch settle into your skin. “We’ve got a lot to make up for tonight, haven’t we?”
“I mean… not to say I haven’t had those thoughts about you.” It seemed easier to say things over text last night, but having him right here makes the words come slower. “All those nights, alone in my bunk… I imagined things. Even if I couldn’t follow through.”
“What did you imagine?” Perpetua nuzzles against your head—as much as he can while wearing the mask, at least. “Last night, what did you think about?”
“I tried to picture you. I listened to that recording so many times, just thinking of…” Of the hands that are on your body now, when they were on his body. Did he treat himself roughly, or was he as gentle as he’s being with you?
You tell each other around kisses and touches, moving to the bed when the chaise proves insufficient. He was gentle with himself, he says—just like he imagined you would be. And you tell him how you imagined him, imagined his hands following the path yours are now, down the center of his body. Want simmers in every kiss, but you can’t let it boil over, not yet
When the knock comes at the door, you’re almost too wobbly to stand, and every step makes your jeans rub painfully. But you open the door and get the food, noting a couple of people in familiar shirts walking down the hall.
“We’ll have to be careful,” you say, once the door is safely locked. “There’s fans about.”
“We’ll be fine. I don’t plan to leave this room until tomorrow.” He gets up to help you wedge all the cartons in the tiny fridge, as if he wasn’t just taking you apart.
“Not even if I told you I found an all-night cookie place down the street?” you tease.
“Oh shit, really?” Perpetua contemplates for a moment. “If they deliver, I might consider opening the door. But otherwise…”
The shift in atmosphere is instant. He pulls you close and slides his hands around your waist. “I owe you,” he says, “the best night I can possibly give you.”
“I wouldn’t say owe—“
“But I would. Since yesterday you’ve given me two of the best orgasms I’ve had in fucking years, and I haven’t even gotten to give you one. So yeah, I owe you.”
For all that he’s talked about being out of practice, it doesn’t take long for him to get you on the bed and stripped down to nothing. He turns around to undress, shaking his ass when you wolf whistle at him, carefully making sure his mask is in place before he moves on top of you to kiss you again. The weight of him settles against your hips and it feels so right—but then he’s moving down, trailing kisses over your breasts and belly. “May I?”
“By all means.”
He parts your legs as gently as if he were opening a priceless book. “Fucking hell…”
“Not disappointing, I hope?”
“Angel.” He strokes your inner thighs, eyes darting around as if he can’t decide where to look. But then he leans in, gently spreading you open with his thumbs, and lets his eyes slip closed as he kisses your clit.
It’s the softest, wettest, slowest kiss you could have imagined. Perpetua whimpers, squirming to settle more comfortably between your legs like he really plans to stay there all night, never breaking the seal between his lips and your body. He rests his arms on your belly, fingers absentmindedly sweeping back and forth. Time starts feeling molten again—you couldn’t say if one minute passes, or ten.
He seems to know when you’re close, slipping his fingers inside before you can ask and leaving them there for you to squeeze against. He sucks just a little harder, until you gasp and tense and then he stays still, tongue flat against you so you can find the pressure that you need. “Oh my fucking god,” you pant.
He hums happily, finally releasing you. “I certainly hope to be.” He winks, and when it takes you a moment to process that and swat at his arm he smiles so brightly you can’t help but smile back.
“What do you think, had enough of the all-you-can-eat buffet?”
“Never.” He slides his fingers as deep as he can. You clench around them reflexively, feeling every bit of empty space as he gently drags them back out. “Mind if I go back for seconds?”
“Oh fuck, please.”
He studies you a moment. “Lay back and relax,” he says, softly. “And close your eyes?” Something in the way he’s looking at you makes it impossible to deny him. There’s a rustle as Perpetua re-situates himself. “I want you to just feel me, angel,” he says, his breath tickling your skin. “Feel how much I want you.”
It’s completely different from the first time. Now he traces patterns with the tip of his tongue, moving down to lick and suck at your folds, further down to dip his tongue inside, moaning at the taste of you. He presses his whole face into you, nose rubbing against your clit while his tongue works further down, and—
He’s not wearing his mask.
Your eyes fly open when you realize, but you’re looking at the ceiling. You quickly shut your eyes again—you’re not going to look, you can’t betray his trust like that. But you reach down, and when you touch the top of his head he takes your hand and holds it to his hair. He hums against you, telling you it’s okay without words.
It’s almost enough to distract from his fucking amazing tongue, but not entirely. You tangle your fingers in his curls (you can tangle your fingers in his curls there’s no mask strap holding them down) and try to just relax into it, let yourself lie open to him and let him feast.
Fuck I can’t wait to get you all over my face, he'd said last night. You’d considered it a figure of speech, but he really means it. He rubs against you, using his cheeks and nose and chin almost as much as lips and tongue. Even his sideburns are going to be soaked, at this rate.
“Perpetua!” you moan, though you try to keep your voice down—there’s no telling who might be walking by in the hall. He hums, clearly pleased. “Please—oh fuck—you feel so good!” With your eyes closed all the obscenely wet sounds seem even louder. “Please,” you whisper. It doesn’t feel like begging, it feels like a prayer. “Please, I’m so close, please I need you—”
Perpetua growls. A little harder, a little faster, it’s too much and not enough and this must be what hellfire feels like—
The tension snaps. Pleasure ricochets through your body, radiating from Perpetua’s damnably perfect mouth. You bite your lips closed, muffling the cry that wants to escape. You need him, more of him—but the sensation burns through you, leaving you limp.
Perpetua presses his face into your thigh. When you open your eyes all you can see of him is a mop of dark curls. The mask that you’ve come to know as the top of his face lies abandoned on the bed, closer to your hand than his. “Sweetheart?” He takes a deep breath. “Want me to hand you the—?”
He lifts his head and looks you in the eye. For a moment your gut twists in reflexive panic—there’s a stranger between your legs.
But the longer you look at him, the more he starts to look like himself. This is really Perpetua—panting, face red, lips shining with your slick. You gently trace your fingers over his forehead, down his cheek. You’re not sure your voice will work, but you speak anyway: “Hi, beautiful.”
“Look who’s talking.” He kisses your hand, and leans his cheek against your palm.
For a moment, you just look at each other. He has such a piercing gaze—you’ve seen the fans talk about it online, of course, but even the most intense ritual couldn’t possibly match the way he’s looking at you now. It’s like he can see right into your soul.
It takes a moment to realize that he’s asked how you want to do this, that he’s plowing ahead with the evening and emotions about what the fuck just happened will have to wait. “I think…like this.”
“You sure? If you want to be on top…”
“Second round, maybe. Honestly, I don’t think I could move right now.”
Perpetua moves to loom over you, and you feel the head of his cock brush against you. “Like this?”
“Yes, please.” You tilt your hips, catching him at your entrance, and you both flinch. “You good?”
He groans in response, slowly rubs back and forth, barely even dipping in. “You’re so soft, fuck I didn’t even dream it this good.” He finally pushes inside, rocking deeper and deeper with every breath. “Satanas preserve me…”
With every little thrust he’s mapping you out, adjusting his angle to make sure he doesn’t hit anything he’s not supposed to. When he finally slides all the way in you can feel him pressing into something deep, only heightened by the way his hips press yours into the mattress. “That’s perfect, Pet.” You squirm to try and take him that little bit deeper, just a little more pressure. “Fuck, sweetheart…”
“I’m tryin’.” He gives you one of those sweet little grins that makes your heart ache. “I’m not sure how long I’ve got in me. Pun not intended.”
“I’ll take all of it, pun fully intended.”
He laughs breathlessly. “It’s all yours honey, every inch.”
And then he’s kissing you as he rolls his hips, just like you’ve seen him do on stage dozens of times now, and it feels even better than it looks. Every thrust hits that deep place inside, the intensity making you break away to gasp. “Right there?” He tries again, a little harder, pressing just so. “That’s the spot, huh?”
“Perpetua.” You want to say more than his name, but you can’t—it’s too much.
“Where else?” He pulls back a little, shifting until he’s thrusting into your g-spot and you’re grabbing at his shoulders. “How’s that, better?”
“Please!” You try to move with him, but it’s not quite enough. “However you want, I just want you, need you—”
“You have me.” He thrusts deep, and you could almost cry you feel so full. “I’ll give you everything. Anything.”
Maybe it’s just been that long, maybe you’re just that horny, maybe he’s got a gift from Below—or maybe Perpetua really is that good. Whatever it is, the feeling of him inside you is overwhelming. He’s going to have marks down his back from how hard you’re clinging to him, but if you don’t hold on you feel like you’ll fall apart.
“Yes, that’s it.” He presses his forehead to yours—for real this time, skin on skin. “All yours, angel, take all you need.”
You can’t help it, you cry out his name when you come. And then you’re hiding your face against the pillow, trying not to make a sound as he keeps thrusting. “Almost there, fuck—” He moans, and you feel his cock throb as he spills inside you.
You wrap arms and legs around him, squeezing him as tight as you can, trying to keep him close. “Sweetheart…” He makes a wordless sound, and buries his face in your neck.
Slowly, the sensations recede enough to think, at least a little. Perpetua’s clinging to you as tightly as you are to him, rubbing his face against your skin. Should you say something? Should you not? What can you even say?
Perpetua beats you to it. “How’re you feeling, honey?”
“Like… like I could fly. How do you feel?”
He kisses your cheeks, your nose, and then your lips. For a while you think that’s his answer, as you melt into one of the best kisses you’ve ever had. But then he pulls back, just enough to look into your eyes. “I feel… the best I’ve felt in a long time.”
***
If you had ever imagined what it might be like to spend a night with a rock star, it wasn’t this—sitting naked in bed, sharing overpriced fancy ravioli for dessert (the chocolate-covered strawberries were dinner, of course) and finishing off a bottle of champagne while watching reruns of Antiques Roadshow. And yet, it’s perfect.
“You know,” says Perpetua between episodes, “when you knocked on the door, I had already taken my mask off.”
You almost choke on a mouthful of champagne. “Beg pardon?”
“Before you got here.” He looks at you—he looks so natural now, bare-faced. “I had it all planned in my head, I was gonna be standing by the window waiting for you, and I left the mask on the bedside table, so once you came in there’d be no putting it back on without you seeing me.”
“Honey.” You pet his hair, still marveling at how much fluffier it is without the mask holding it down. “I told you I didn’t want you to brute force it.”
“I know.” He catches your hand, and kisses it. “That’s why I knew I was safe with you. But when you couldn’t open the door, I couldn’t face the hallway without it.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” You set your glass down, and lean in to smother him in little kisses.
Perpetua nuzzles your cheek. He seems lighter, like a layer of tension you hadn’t even realized was there has vanished. “Hey, it worked out. I think this was the better method, don’t you?”
“If you’re fishing for compliments on your technique—you know what, I can’t even joke, that was amazing.”
“I wasn’t, but thank you. You’re no slouch either, you know.”
“And I didn’t even break out the really good tricks.”
He shivers. “Might have to save that for a night after a ritual.” You’re both quiet for a minute. You haven’t planned more than a few days ahead for any of this—you can’t. And yet…
Perpetua clears his throat. “I… there’s no pressure, angel, but you know, if you wanted to stay with me on the band bus, I think the ghouls would be very accommodating.”
“Papa!” The use of his title makes him blush. “Are you asking me to move in with you before we've even spent the night together?”
“Well… shit, I suppose I am.”
You lean your head on his shoulder. “If you still like me that much by morning, then yes.”
***
Perpetua does snore, as it turns out. But not loudly enough that you feel the need to tell him about it. It’s kind of cute.
(…oh dear sweet Lucifer you think this man’s snoring is cute, you really are doomed.)
It's warm and heavy on your tongue. And Frater V is a vision above you.
You're settled between his legs, his pants undone and his cock currently encased in the warm heat of your mouth. His pubic hair, silver threading through the dark, tickles ever so slightly but it's easy to ignore for the scent of his musk and the light tang of his precum, dribbling easily down your throat.
"You're doing so well, darlin'" V breathes out. His hand threads through your hair, pushing it out of your face, curling around your jaw, slow and unhurried. How long have you been here? Does it matter, when his cock fills your mouth with salt-sweet love, when his mismatched eyes look at you like you're the only thing that matters, when his praise sends arousal dripping down your spine, thick and coiling towards your untouched core?
"Oh honey..." His cock throbs in your mouth. He's close, you can taste it. It spurs you to act, sucking hard around his cock. He gasps out in surprise at the sensation, his hands entangle in your hair, to hold on as salt bursts in your mouth. Swallowing it down like precious water, your eyes flutter up at him, his face flush from orgasm, mouth slightly agap as he pants. His eyes catch yours, shining with delighted pride. It promises more to come.
And you can't wait.
BUN. WHEN I FUCKING GET YOU. /AFF
I genuinely think you short-circuited my brain with this. I. Just. aaaaAAAGHHHHHH 😵💫😵💫😵💫 I think this is beyond flustered and into the realms of unholy shit.
So, this is going to be tattooed on my brain for the rest of the evening. And I'm totally normal and cool and fine about this. 🫠
For the self-ship fluster challenge, a moment with Frater V:
He sees you coming in the corridor, and catches your hand. “I’ve missed you this morning, honey.” He kisses your knuckle, letting his lips part just enough for his tongue to pulse against your skin. His eyes are locked on yours. “Do you have time for a lunch meeting in my office?”
Lavender. LAVENDER PLEASE.
You used Frater V against me??? Are ya trying to kill me???
AGHFJDJFHDGDGDNDBD I'M PERFECTLY FINE I SWEAR. 😵💫😵💫😵💫😵💫
But also yes. That lunch hour is definitely going to stretch into two. 😈😈
hello i’m spreading the word. i bought a sample of perpetua’s cologne (Sequoia Wood by The Perfumer’s Story) and want people to know that if you breathe it in deeply, it stays in your nose and throat. it’s a very sharp and woody scent that smells really good and is absolutely something that a vampire would wear to mask the scent of blood; idk how it feels for others but for me it gets in my head in a very “vampire-trying-to-command-you” way. do with this what you will x
This is excellent information anon, thank you for bringing this to my attention.
Cologne with hypnotic/mind-altering effects is already in one of my stories and will be playing a significant role in the future >:3
It's really interesting! I definitely get the redwood underneath and I think a good bit of clove. It smells clean and a little bit dry, quite nice. If I wear it for me I may end up layering it with something sweeter which should be fun to play with.
Warnings: Breeding; power imbalance; dubcon; Nihil is a selfish lover tbh; no after care; dirty talk; degradation; manipulation; this is actually really creepy and dark, please don’t read this if older men manipulating younger women for sex triggers you; use of scissors to cut off clothes; no foreplay; unprotected sex; piv sex; minor restraint; praise kink;
Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask (if you want to be added to the list please let me know!)
The following fic contains scenes and elements that some may find disturbing. I have highlighted particular content warnings above that may be particularly triggering to some. If you are in any way in a place where this fic could trigger you, please do not read ahead. Your mental health is more important than a work of fiction.
I do not condone the actions taken in this fic. Please remember that it is a work of fiction, and meant for entertainment purposes only.
Thank you.
🔞 MDNI 🔞
As this is dark fiction, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.
You were merely a young sister in the Satanic Church when you met him. You’d barely taken your vows, just out of your teenage years and not even making a name for yourself in the Ministry when you assigned your first job. Papa Nihil, the founder of the Ghost Project and head of the Satanic Church, was spending the early 60s touring multiple countries, attempting to topple governments and recruit new members to the church. It was your job, while on tour, to make sure Nihil got everything he needed and that he was comfortable. His son, Primo, who was the same age as you, had been left behind to run things in his father’s absence and take care of his two infant brothers. His father got to gallivant and do what or whom he liked.
Nihil enjoyed the fame and success the Ghost Project brought him and the church, and while it wasn’t considered “righteous” to fornicate with others out of wedlock, it still didn’t sit correctly in most people’s moral codes. He enjoyed strings of girls, each one a different variety to the other. Nihil wasn’t picky, and that was perhaps the only good thing about him. If you had a vulva he wanted you, end of story. But this was his biggest problem, as he was already promised to a different sister, a future Prime Mover - and it wasn’t his favourite Ministry squeeze, Sister Imperator.
But this was how you found yourself sat on your 45-year-old Papa’s sofa, his hand grasping harshly at your thigh and his painted lips attached to your neck. That very same hand moved up towards your core and began to rub you through your tights and panties. You weren’t entirely comfortable with this situation. You wanted to give Nihil what he asked for, and in fact your body was craving it, but your mind constantly thought of his future Prime Mover and his lover, who was only in the next room. You told him this, said that you could go and get Sister Imperator for him. But it was no good. Papa Nihil wanted you. “You wouldn’t deny your Papa, would you?” He murmured into your neck. His fingers were swiping just right on your clit and had you gasping out. “More importantly, you wouldn’t deny your Dark Father, would you? He loves the gifts you give him. Will you, scricciolina? Will you give Him what He asks for?” Little Wren. He liked calling you that because you were as sweet and soft as one, a fitting name for someone so cute and pliant.
You nodded. “Y-yes, Papa.” You replied, your hips beginning to buck to meet his hands.
“Brava ragazza. Stendersi. Spread yourself open for me.”
You lay on your back on the couch, Nihil pulling himself away from you just long enough to let it happen. It didn’t matter that you were still fully clothed, Nihil always preferred it when you were while in public spaces. Not that he’d stop fucking you if he got caught. He always said it was to preserve your modesty, but there was always a darker look in his eye when he grabbed the scissors from their location and sliced through your tights. He’d slice your panties too if he were impatient enough, which, today, he was.
You heard the familiar rip of your tights before you felt the coldness of the blade against your labia. One horizontal snip later, your panties were now destroyed and your sweet, delectable cunt exposed to Nihil’s predatory gaze. He palmed himself through his trousers at the sight of you, but it didn’t take long before his cock was out and lined up to your entrance. You were wet enough to welcome him without pain, but not so wet as for the stretch to be completely comfortable or pleasurable. But even so, he pushed all the way in not even considering your own state. The groan he released was somewhat primal, and just the feeling of your unprepared hole was enough to get the man going.
He braced himself on top of you, letting his whole weight on your body and pressing you down into the sofa. He began babbling incoherently in your ear as he fucked you for his own pleasure. “Ecco, take it like a good girl. Take your Papa’s cock.”
You felt completely degraded but there was a huge part of you that was thrilled by this. Knowing that Nihil didn’t care for you, knowing that he was just using you to get what he wanted excited you to the point where you should be concerned. But the more he thrust in and out of you, the wetter you became. The closer he got to cumming inside you, the tighter you squeezed without realising you were doing it.
What if he came inside you? What if he got you pregnant? The thought of it should disgust you. This man was old enough to be your father, and barbaric enough to enjoy this because he thought you were sweet and innocent. But you were losing yourself to the pleasure, to the idea that he would release his white, sticky cum inside you and put you at risk for pregnancy. If you were pregnant, then everyone would know. Everyone would see that Papa Nihil had laid claim to the newest sister. You were part of his harem, at his beck and call. Free to use whenever he liked.
“Talk to Papa,” he said, “t-tell me what you’re thinking.”
You moaned. “Papa!”
“Your… your cunt is so tight, scricciolina. Why?”
“I - mmm fuck! Papa! I want your c-cum!”
Nihil chuckled above you. “You want to receive your Papa’s cum, hm? Want - merda - Nihil to knock you up? Fill up this tight cunt and fuck a baby into you? Is that it?”
“Yes!”
“Want to be round and full with my spawn? Such a good. Fucking. Girl.” Each word was punctuated with a thrust.
You had heard rumours from the other sisters who had been in your position that Nihil’s biggest kink was spreading his seed around. Because of your words, he seemed to lose a little more control than he had previously. His mind began to wander and his mouth let slip every single thought. “Cunt so good, might make you my Prime Mover. Might fuck you until you’re pregnant with the antichrist.” Your stomach dropped at the thought, especially since your previous worries had returned at the mention of ‘Prime Mover’ but your mouth released a moan so loud, it bordered on pornographic. The coming of the antichrist was a big deal for the church, and an honour for the woman who bore him. You hadn’t considered it before, but now you had, there was no turning back.
Your legs wrapped around Nihil’s waist and kept him trapped between them, only allowing him to pull back a certain amount. “Fill up my c-cunt, Papa! I want your cum so badly.” You were practically wailing now, your nails running down his clothed back. “Get me pregnant, sh-show the Ministry who I belong to. Please, Papa!”
That seemed to do the trick. With one final and brutal thrust, reaching all the way to the back of your pussy almost painfully, Nihil stilled. His cum spilled out of him while his mouth released a groan so low, it was practically a growl. “Th-that’s it.” He stammered. “T-take my seed.”
When he pulled out of you, you felt his cum leaking from your abused hole. He noticed it too, and spent a little while watching it ooze from you before standing up and dressing himself. “You should head back to your room.” He told you, not even looking in your direction. “You have an early morning, don’t you?”
You adjusted your own clothes, feeling his cum running down your thighs as you stood. “Yes, Papa.”
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CW for unintentional (sort of) voyeurism (fucking/masturbation whilst Frater's on a phonecall)
MDNI!
He's fucking you over his desk in the middle of the day, when the phone rings. It's still during his office hours, so of course he has to answer it. Unfortunately, this means he has to slide out of your warmth, and reach across his desk just so.
The angle is deliberate enough for his length to slide against the cleft of your thighs, oh-so-close to where he left you bereft. Placating kisses pour over the flutter of your pulse, murmured apologies spilling into your ear.
Only managing to sound slightly breathless, he answers, only to groan inwardly at the sound of the shrill voice on the other end of the line. This was going to take longer than he thought.
Fortunately for both of you, you'd planned ahead for just such an eventuality. Reaching for his desk drawer, you slide it open to extract the secret you'd hidden there. Thick eyebrows knit together in confusion, before spotting your prize.
His eyes land on the dildo, then flicker to where you still clench around nothing, whimpering through bitten lips at the loss of him. Moss green and moon white eyes blow wide, sharp teeth pressing into his lower lip as he swallows hard.
Planting a foot on each arm of his chair, you tease the toy against your soaked cunt, gasping every time it catches against your entrance. He's barely stringing together coherent sentences, his free hand falling to stroke himself languidly as he watches from under lidded eyes.
You're so far gone, you barely register his murmured instruction, easily mistaking it for part of his one-way conversation.
'Go on...' he breathes, barely moving the mouthpiece away from his lips, 'you gonna keep yourself warm for me, honey?'
That's all it takes for you to fuck the toy into yourself in one motion, pleasure knocking you back onto an elbow. He matches you stroke for stroke, lust clouding your thoughts as the conversation fades into an unintelligible buzz.
In one motion, he tugs you over the surface of the desk and stands over you, a wide palm spreading your legs further apart. He remains frozen in place for a moment, enraptured by your defilement.
The phone is still at his ear; the conversation is less than one-sided now as thick fingers curl in-between yours, guiding the slick motion of the toy. A surprised squeak tears from your throat as his mouth curls into a wicked smile.
That's it, my love... he mouths, let go. Ruin me.
Pleasure short-circuits your mind as his other hand lowers, the pad of his thumb rubbing frantic circles over your clit. Almost in vain, your hand flies to your mouth as your voice rises into a cry of ecstasy.
But it's too little too late as a well-angled thrust has you screaming out his name. Stars twinkle behind your eyes as you feel the white hot ache within you explode. Your release floods over his hands, soaking his cock, and dripping obscenely onto the floor.
So powerful is your orgasm, he has to scramble to catch the toy before it's sent flying across the floor of his office. Setting it aside, he grins wolfishly down at you, the voice at his ear now seemingly shocked into silence.
'I'm sorry, something's, ah, come up,' he smirks unrepentantly, winking slyly at you, 'I'll call you back later.'
You cover your burning face with your hands he leans over you to replace the receiver without waiting for a response. Gently, he peels them away as soft reassuring kisses follow light nibbles up your quivering body.
Eager yet gentle hands curl around your hips, tugging you against the cushion of his stomach and the hardness of his still-aching cock. You whine as he leans down, his lips brushing lightly against the hollow of your throat.
I'm horny and can't sleep so let's make this a late night writing challenge. (Different Papas and different Readers in different positions! What fun!) 🥀🦇🖤
His tongue just kept lapping at your soaked folds even after your were clearly overstimulated.
"C-Copia-" You whine, petting his head to let him know it was time to stop. You laugh when he whines back, stopping to look up at you with bedroom eyes that could set fire to the whole place.
"Beautiful, beautiful demon.. You will be the death of me"
"And you me if you don't stop licking my cunt like a damn popsicle"
He gives you a feigned offended gasp, lifting his head up from between your thighs with a wet mustache and chin dripping with your spend. He was so hot when all he wanted was you. You're all he could think of. He crawls on top of you even as you can't stop smiling under him.
"You're a popsicle, one I will never stop licking until I die." He purrs on top of you, wiping hair away from your face. He's silly, he's so goofy, and yet he's so hot your loins catch fire again. Oops.
"Are you almost done?" Terzo's voice comes from the main bedroom of your shared apartment. You were having a hard time tying together the new lingerie set you bought for very special occasions but it seemed Satan wanted to pull tricks instead of helping you pull the lace just so around your waist.
"A-Almost!" If you didn't come out of the bathroom soon it was all going to go down the drain and your sanity with it. The attempt at reassuring him doesn't do anything because you hear footsteps coming closer to the bathroom door.
"Amore, I know you said this was a surprise but I have to know if it's a car you are wrapping or you are hiding a body in there." He taps the door three times with his knuckle.
You sigh and curse under your breath. Of course this had to happen when he gets home late, of course if had to happen when he has been home only three days after tour. Of course, it had to happen, to you. Of course. Satan blessed you with a beautiful man and his brilliant mind and the patience of a thousand monks, but you couldn't help but just feel guilty.
"Come.. Come in.." You warn with defeat in your tone. The door knob turns before Terzo walks through and sees you for what is going on. A red laced lingerie mess tangled in the sexy straps and ties meant to make you look like Lilith herself on a throne of skulls. Now you just feel like Lilith's hot mess of a cousin.
Terzo tilts his head with a riling amusement. "Amore?"
"I know! I know, okay? I was-I was going to surprise you with this but then this damn thing kept getting in knots and slipping off me and, ugh." You slip your hands over your face with burning embarrassment. Hands curl around yours and lower them down only for another hand to reach for your chin and lift it, so that Terzo could see your pretty eyes.
"All of this for me, amore? I'm ever so grateful that the Dark One let us meet one fateful day and forever will be," He goes on. He wants to laugh but doesn't want to make you feel any more embarrassed than you already feel.
"I love that you wanted to surprise me, but maybe, eh, ask?"
"Then it wouldn't be a surprise, Terzo"
"I know, but think of it this way.. I help you put it on," He wraps his arms around your waist and that decibel in his voice lowers, making your knees wobble. You slide your hands up to his neck and hold on just in case you can't stand right any longer.
"I help you take it off, si?"
"S-Si-Yes. Yeah. Of course." This time he lets out a low chuckle from your flustered state. He leans in and stays right next to your ear with a smirk.
"It is alright amore, I used to take sewing lessons when I was younger. I'll have you in this thing and back out of it before you can spell Emeritus."
Primo whimpers when you thrust the strap on inside him hard enough to shake him in bed. His hips snap back with fervor, sweat runs down his face as you watch from your beautiful view above him. He's shaking and whining and a complete mess, just like you said he would hours before.
When the playful tease left your lips at the beginning of tonight's fun events he scoffed at the idea you would get him like this. Now, you see the mechanisms working through his head and maybe he needed to reconsider. All of that aside, he never wanted it to end with you.
You lift his legs up over your shoulders before plowing right into that spot that makes him howl into the bedroom. If anyone could hear it, they'd rather be shot than to let you both know that you're just being too noisy for their liking.
"F-Fuck-" Primo hisses through his teeth. His gnarled hands with sharp nails grip on to your arms like a lifeline before he slams his head back into the pillows under him.
"What's wrong, baby boy? Demon got your tongue?" You tease him again and catch that it makes his dick bob above his stomach. Primo may have been well into his 80's, but you were over a thousand years old. He was of so much younger than you and you loved to see him squirm when you referenced the huge age difference.
You're still pounding into him like there's no tomorrow even when he tries to quip back. A smile grows slowly on your face as you plan your next move, and Primo can see it with that excited fear in his eyes.
A thousand year old Demon flips over the First, spanking him on the ass before spreading his ass cheeks. Primo lands on his stomach with a grunt before letting out a warbled gasp.
Your expert tongue dances around the rim of his asshole before poking itself inside. He pleads with you as his nails grip the bed sheets until they tear. His legs kick out to nothing but your strength outmatches his and pins both his calves to the bed before diving in deeper.
"Y-You must-Fuck! Please!"
Oh, must you now? You chuckle darkly in his ass at the sounds of his pleas. Another smack to his ass has his cock spurting pre-cum in between him and the sheets. You can smell it all over him. The neediness, the want, the desire, it makes your head spin. Not enough to throw you off your task but enough to push you into high gear.
You lean back from such a beautiful bounty only to speak.
"You want it? Beg for it, my little prince." Before you lower yourself back down and continue where you left off, half of your tongue now entering him and thrusting back and forth in those tight walls. Primo shouts as he strangely feels your tongue grow twice its size from before. He doesn't know how it is happening but his mind is caring less and less as it fucks him in his own mattress.
"Y-Yes, Yes! Please, your Lordship, I-I've been so good- I-I've worshipped at your statue and praised your name-Please! Oh fuck-! I-I'm-!" He gasps as he feels your entire tongue from your parted lips inside him and fucking him like the doll he is. Primo sees stars and white light behind his eyelids. He ruts back on to your mouth until he feels his cum soiling the sheets below with quick gasps and whimpers at high volume.
Moments later, you are holding him in your thick arms as he lays across your body under the blankets. His calm breathing soothes you as you take locks of that white mane and place it behind his ear. He stirs to prop himself on his elbows, looking at you before he leans in with a slow and loving kiss. The kind that you can sense is filled with worship and devotion. An offering you take every night with him. A ritual for just the two of you.
You kiss back, holding him right there in your arms until he lays back on top of you again. He falls asleep, peaceful and content.
You're holding on to Perpetua for dear life as his knotted cock burrows itself to the hilt of his hips, only stopping by the swollen knot at the end of his cock. Your eyes widen when you peer down and see how big it is and the wolfish grin he has on his painted face.
"What's the matter, baby girl?" Like he really has to ask. The teasing tone in his voice has you whining something out but it is completely twisted into a gasp as you feel him moving through your walls. He's so big but the delicious burn from it makes you lick your lips. You're both sweating, all of your clothes scattered to the floor. Nothing between you and him.
"P-Perpetua-" He slides his cock a mere half inch inside you and you are whining loudly again.
"Yes, my darling, my darkest pit, what is it?" He tilts his head, waiting for your response. But it never comes just like he knew it wouldn't, as your too busy being stuffed with his knotted cock. He licks and bites your neck as you extend it to give him access. Your eyes are shut, your voice hoarse from moaning and calling out to him.
The next thing that comes out of your mouth was not something either of you were expecting.
"M-Mew!"
That sound gets him to halt everything he was doing. He's looking down at you with something so surprised you think he's mad at you. You look away after he doesn't say anything.
"I-I'm sorry, I-"
"Do that again"
"Perp-Ah!" Perpetua lifts a leg and plunges deeper into you, hitting that sweet spot you can't keep under control.
"Do it. Again." A thrust meets every word as he orders you to mew like a kitten again.
And you do.
"Mew! Mew!" Meww-ah! Ah!"
Perpetua flips both of you over so quickly you almost get vertigo but he's back in your cunt fucking you and spanking your ass, "Mew for me, kitten. Mew for Daddy"
You are practically screaming as he fucks you, fucking you so fast and furiously you think his knot is going to pop right inside you. You can't stop mewling for him, actually meowing and mewing until he's lifting you up with his claws curling around the front of your neck and forcing your back to be connected to his chest.
"That's it, mew you little bitch, mew like the fucking slut you are." Perpetua's hips smack against your inner thighs, then, you feel it. His knot shoves itself right in and he roars above you. Pinning you down and biting in to your shoulder as he spurts load after loud of semen right into your sweet cunt.
You scream uncaringly, orgasm so ferociously you feel like you're blacking out. You come to a few moments later to find that Perpetua had carefully rotated you on to your back and is wiping sweat off your body. He's taking care of you even as you both are connected.
You can't help but give a contented sigh and sleepy smile as he wipes your face with a part of the sheets then kisses your temple.
"What a ride, huh?" He smiles.
"I didn't know what came over me" You respond back with a bit of heat growing on your face from the shame. Perpetua takes your face with a clawed hand and turns it to look at him.
"Do not be ashamed, my angel, you were perfect" He kisses your cheek "You were magnificent" He trails down to your collar bone "I love whatever you pulled back there" He reassures with a final kiss to your sternum.
"Are you sure?"
Your need to know he isn't going to tease you or ridicule you makes his heart swell.
Back with more Ghost song lyric prompts! Second lyric taken from the list @mcgibbykins sent (thank you again!). This one is:
Tell me who you wanna be, And I will set you free
18+ MDNI. Terzo x sexually insecure/shy reader. Reader has breasts and a vagina/clit. ~1.4 words. Vaginal fingering, oral (reader receiving), sweet Terzo who is also a bit of a shit, AKA Terzo ragebaits you into having some confidence.
Terzo is a very patient man. Every time you recoil from his touch, purposefully or not, or attempt to cover up while he undresses you, he simply smiles and waits. Your apologies are shushed and your tears are dried. His assurances and encouragement are as persistent as the voice in your head that works so hard to entrench the shame you have learned.
You tell him often that you don't want to be like this. He knows. He is content to take his time to unravel you and determined in his efforts to find out what makes you tick. Even his soothing is too much for you sometimes, his praise being so sincere and heartfelt that it physically hurts.
But no matter how much you struggle and lament, he still takes you in his arms. Still holds you and attempts to kiss away your insecurities. Still shows you how much he wants you with every shape he traces on your skin. Despite your lingering reticence, his unwavering kindness has broken down some of your walls. However, you still have a lot of work to do.
He wants to try a different approach tonight.
He makes you say it. He makes you put your desire into words. You stammer and stumble over them but you get them out eventually.
"I want to be touched. I want to be the sort of person who can ask for what they need."
Your honesty is rewarded briefly by his mouth on yours. "You need to give yourself permission. Permission to demand it."
He sees the fear freeze you. You don't know how. You don't know if you can let go of all of baggage.
"If you cannot give yourself permission, then take mine. Here, now, in this room, you have my permission. To be brave. Free. To be whoever you want to be."
As you are trying to conjure the confidence he thinks you are capable of, he turns away from you. He quietly disrobes and climbs on to his bed, kneeling in its centre to wait for you.
You take a deep breath and begin to strip. He watches intently, following your fingers as they unbutton and unclasp until you are wearing nothing but a blush. Once you are completely bare, you climb on to the bed and he immediately crawls to you, stopping just short of being within reach. Before you can think yourself out of it, you close the distance to straddle his thighs and pull his mouth to yours.
His smile momentarily hinders him from kissing you back but he catches up quickly. As your hands explore his torso, his own mirror your movements but deliberately avoid all of the places you would like them to be. Even as you thumb over his nipple, his fingertips merely brush over yours, plausibly by accident, and you whine against his lips.
Trying not to take his low chuckle too personally, you resist the urge to pout and instead decide to be more direct. You grab his hand and forcefully shove it on to your chest, which only makes him laugh harder. Even worse, he retracts.
"You said you wanted to ask," he tuts, with a playfully admonishing glare. "That is cheating."
While you are no stranger to falling under his borderline arrogant charm, you're not in the mood for it right now. You grab the back of his neck and drag him closer, kissing him and pawing at him harder with the hope you can power through his restraint. But it's no use; he continues to reciprocate in a measured, almost apathetic way which upgrades your aggravation to taking offence. Although your confidence has evidently increased, it's not the way he wants it.
You give in to petulance, making the best sad eyes you can muster as you lean away from him. Just as he has can disarm you with smarm, you also have your ways. He sighs and offers his best apologetic grimace with a quick peck to your lips for emphasis, but it doesn't stop you climbing off him. As he tries to protest, you crawl towards the pillows and lie down. When you beckon him closer with a curling of your finger, his smile returns.
"Come here," you say as he hovers over you, and he dives into your neck allowing you to wrap your arms around him.
Apparently happy that his approach seems to be effective, he softens as he presses against you. He mouths gently downward and lavishes attention across your chest. You close your eyes as your fingers slide into his hair, reframing any apprehension buzzing under your skin as the desire you feel for him. His hand following the curve of your hip and his breath tickling your ear opens you up further, and a moan escapes you as the ache inside you builds.
"You know what you need to do," he mutters, unable or unwilling to stop spreading kisses over you as he speaks. "Tell me."
His lips settle in the middle of your breasts, and he peeks through the curtain of his black hair curling over his eye to wait for your instruction. You try to obey even though your face is burning under his gaze but, as he drags his tongue up your breastbone in a flat stripe, your voice breaks into a shuddering whine.
"You want to cum, yes? Tell me how."
Gentle lips and warm breath on your skin help to ground you as you work up to the part you always find so difficult. The white of his eye flashes in and out of view with each subtle movement and its unwavering expectation pushes you closer to success. He doesn't need to say anything else; all of the times he had said it before playback in your mind so clearly he could be whispering it in your ear.
Direct. Straightforward. With no concern about sounding seductive or performing for him. Just say it.
"Touch me," you exhale. "Please, I-I want to you to—fuck, I… your fingers. Please."
"Very good," he says sincerely. "Like this?"
Delicately cupping you, his fingertip teases through your growing wetness and gradually pressing harder.
"Yes! A bit highe—ah!"
His patience is obviously waning as he nudges the pad of his thumb towards your clit before you get the words out, and lets a lazy grin spread across his face as you suck your lip between your teeth before he really even starts to touch you. He purrs as he watches you let go and affords his praise liberally as you bloom beneath him. Beginning to guide him further with pleas for more - harder or faster, or even another finger inside you - you feel the pride in yourself that he does.
When you open your eyes and find him barely an inch from your face, studying each line, twitch and expression, you don't shy away from it. It doesn't feel like scrutiny anymore. You share a look of approval and he continues to reward you. Not that it is solely for your benefit.
"You're going to cum on my fingers, hm?" He coos into your ear, his lips grazing its shell.
"Yes!" Another chuckle, but his next words are cut off. "And then on your tongue."
The faltering of his strokes almost throws you back into uncertainty but the burning trail his lips leave down your stomach quickly quells it. Any discipline or plan to teach is forgotten in favour of satisfying his desire to taste you. However, it does not stop him drawing it out a bit longer, only letting his the tip of his tongue nudge the edges of your sex as he savours the first drops of his own prize.
His mouth slips over to your thigh, still trying to pace himself somewhat. If it is for his own enjoyment or to ensure he does not overstimulate you, you're not sure. And you don't really care. You just need more. Your hand finds his hair and drags him back to where you need him. His eyes lock on to yours, ready to chastise you.
"Cheating."
Wholly on instinct, you tug at his scalp and his attempted reproach is muffled by a mouthful of you. His own natural instinct kicks in and his tongue explores as if it has no other purpose, and his exclamation of surprise transforms into a series of wanton moans.
Terzo can be a patient man, but he has his limits.
Thanks for reading! Reblogs much appreciated <3
All other entries in this series can be found here :)
Back with more Ghost song lyric prompts! Second lyric taken from the list @mcgibbykins sent (thank you again!). This one is:
Tell me who you wanna be, And I will set you free
18+ MDNI. Terzo x sexually insecure/shy reader. Reader has breasts and a vagina/clit. ~1.4 words. Vaginal fingering, oral (reader receiving), sweet Terzo who is also a bit of a shit, AKA Terzo ragebaits you into having some confidence.
Terzo is a very patient man. Every time you recoil from his touch, purposefully or not, or attempt to cover up while he undresses you, he simply smiles and waits. Your apologies are shushed and your tears are dried. His assurances and encouragement are as persistent as the voice in your head that works so hard to entrench the shame you have learned.
You tell him often that you don't want to be like this. He knows. He is content to take his time to unravel you and determined in his efforts to find out what makes you tick. Even his soothing is too much for you sometimes, his praise being so sincere and heartfelt that it physically hurts.
But no matter how much you struggle and lament, he still takes you in his arms. Still holds you and attempts to kiss away your insecurities. Still shows you how much he wants you with every shape he traces on your skin. Despite your lingering reticence, his unwavering kindness has broken down some of your walls. However, you still have a lot of work to do.
He wants to try a different approach tonight.
He makes you say it. He makes you put your desire into words. You stammer and stumble over them but you get them out eventually.
"I want to be touched. I want to be the sort of person who can ask for what they need."
Your honesty is rewarded briefly by his mouth on yours. "You need to give yourself permission. Permission to demand it."
He sees the fear freeze you. You don't know how. You don't know if you can let go of all of baggage.
"If you cannot give yourself permission, then take mine. Here, now, in this room, you have my permission. To be brave. Free. To be whoever you want to be."
As you are trying to conjure the confidence he thinks you are capable of, he turns away from you. He quietly disrobes and climbs on to his bed, kneeling in its centre to wait for you.
You take a deep breath and begin to strip. He watches intently, following your fingers as they unbutton and unclasp until you are wearing nothing but a blush. Once you are completely bare, you climb on to the bed and he immediately crawls to you, stopping just short of being within reach. Before you can think yourself out of it, you close the distance to straddle his thighs and pull his mouth to yours.
His smile momentarily hinders him from kissing you back but he catches up quickly. As your hands explore his torso, his own mirror your movements but deliberately avoid all of the places you would like them to be. Even as you thumb over his nipple, his fingertips merely brush over yours, plausibly by accident, and you whine against his lips.
Trying not to take his low chuckle too personally, you resist the urge to pout and instead decide to be more direct. You grab his hand and forcefully shove it on to your chest, which only makes him laugh harder. Even worse, he retracts.
"You said you wanted to ask," he tuts, with a playfully admonishing glare. "That is cheating."
While you are no stranger to falling under his borderline arrogant charm, you're not in the mood for it right now. You grab the back of his neck and drag him closer, kissing him and pawing at him harder with the hope you can power through his restraint. But it's no use; he continues to reciprocate in a measured, almost apathetic way which upgrades your aggravation to taking offence. Although your confidence has evidently increased, it's not the way he wants it.
You give in to petulance, making the best sad eyes you can muster as you lean away from him. Just as he has can disarm you with smarm, you also have your ways. He sighs and offers his best apologetic grimace with a quick peck to your lips for emphasis, but it doesn't stop you climbing off him. As he tries to protest, you crawl towards the pillows and lie down. When you beckon him closer with a curling of your finger, his smile returns.
"Come here," you say as he hovers over you, and he dives into your neck allowing you to wrap your arms around him.
Apparently happy that his approach seems to be effective, he softens as he presses against you. He mouths gently downward and lavishes attention across your chest. You close your eyes as your fingers slide into his hair, reframing any apprehension buzzing under your skin as the desire you feel for him. His hand following the curve of your hip and his breath tickling your ear opens you up further, and a moan escapes you as the ache inside you builds.
"You know what you need to do," he mutters, unable or unwilling to stop spreading kisses over you as he speaks. "Tell me."
His lips settle in the middle of your breasts, and he peeks through the curtain of his black hair curling over his eye to wait for your instruction. You try to obey even though your face is burning under his gaze but, as he drags his tongue up your breastbone in a flat stripe, your voice breaks into a shuddering whine.
"You want to cum, yes? Tell me how."
Gentle lips and warm breath on your skin help to ground you as you work up to the part you always find so difficult. The white of his eye flashes in and out of view with each subtle movement and its unwavering expectation pushes you closer to success. He doesn't need to say anything else; all of the times he had said it before playback in your mind so clearly he could be whispering it in your ear.
Direct. Straightforward. With no concern about sounding seductive or performing for him. Just say it.
"Touch me," you exhale. "Please, I-I want to you to—fuck, I… your fingers. Please."
"Very good," he says sincerely. "Like this?"
Delicately cupping you, his fingertip teases through your growing wetness and gradually pressing harder.
"Yes! A bit highe—ah!"
His patience is obviously waning as he nudges the pad of his thumb towards your clit before you get the words out, and lets a lazy grin spread across his face as you suck your lip between your teeth before he really even starts to touch you. He purrs as he watches you let go and affords his praise liberally as you bloom beneath him. Beginning to guide him further with pleas for more - harder or faster, or even another finger inside you - you feel the pride in yourself that he does.
When you open your eyes and find him barely an inch from your face, studying each line, twitch and expression, you don't shy away from it. It doesn't feel like scrutiny anymore. You share a look of approval and he continues to reward you. Not that it is solely for your benefit.
"You're going to cum on my fingers, hm?" He coos into your ear, his lips grazing its shell.
"Yes!" Another chuckle, but his next words are cut off. "And then on your tongue."
The faltering of his strokes almost throws you back into uncertainty but the burning trail his lips leave down your stomach quickly quells it. Any discipline or plan to teach is forgotten in favour of satisfying his desire to taste you. However, it does not stop him drawing it out a bit longer, only letting his the tip of his tongue nudge the edges of your sex as he savours the first drops of his own prize.
His mouth slips over to your thigh, still trying to pace himself somewhat. If it is for his own enjoyment or to ensure he does not overstimulate you, you're not sure. And you don't really care. You just need more. Your hand finds his hair and drags him back to where you need him. His eyes lock on to yours, ready to chastise you.
"Cheating."
Wholly on instinct, you tug at his scalp and his attempted reproach is muffled by a mouthful of you. His own natural instinct kicks in and his tongue explores as if it has no other purpose, and his exclamation of surprise transforms into a series of wanton moans.
Terzo can be a patient man, but he has his limits.
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All other entries in this series can be found here :)
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A little Papa V x gn!reader backstage shenanigans...
I can't be the only one wondering how it feels to be in close proximity with him down there.... 😵💫 anyway.
MDNI (no explicit smut, but smut adjacent/implied)
So, I've been thinking about the candid shots of Perpetua back/under-stage again, to nobody's surprise, and also thinking of how... close quarters things must be under there.
You try to spend as much time as possible with him before he has to jet off again, especially if this includes sitting in on rehearsals. Sometimes, you sit on the stage, heart bursting with pride as you watch him shine. How lucky you are to see him like this.
But most of the time, you're crammed underneath the stage, especially if it's a technical rehearsal. Sometimes it's all you can do to catch a glimpse of him, dressed down in his favourite purple sweats, bare-faced, wild curls, and beautifully flushed.
He always manages to find the time to flash you a cheeky wink here, a wicked smile there, before being reprimanded playfully by the stage crew as they chuckle and shake their heads.
On this particular evening, you're waiting by the steps to greet him as he comes offstage. There's barely any space for people to move around in anything more than single file down here, and you both know it. But that doesn't mean that he won't try to innocently 'squeeze past' you.
He knows exactly what he's doing. You act nonchalant, pretending you don't notice the hard press of his body, desire roiling between you like waves. And you certainly try not to pay attention to how his fingertips brush lightly against yours before intertwining. His way of checking in, of asking is this okay? without speaking.
He squeezes deliberately closer, and you can't help your eyes fluttering closed as you inhale his scent. He smells intoxicating, yet comforting at the same time; pheromones, sweat and soft wood scents bind you in their familiarity.
A grounding palm wraps around your hip, his thumb slipping under the hem of your shirt to rub gentle, languid circles against heated skin. Humming softly, he nuzzles his nose against the sweat-glazed skin of your neck, goosebumps pebbling in the wake of his touch. Light kisses pepper the column of your throat as a muscular thigh slowly guides your legs apart.
Your head falls back as you gasp; he catches it before you hurt yourself with a mumured 'be careful, love', using it as an excuse to slot himself further against you. His mouth finds its home against your skin again, and you sigh blissfully.
His lips curl into a smile at your ear, chuckling lowly at your eagerness. You're all too aware of the people milling around above you, but right now, you couldn't give a damn. You mewl loudly, too lost in the greed of his hands, how good he feels pressed against you.
He huffs out a laugh as he leans back slightly, taking in your ruin. You suddenly feel self-conscious, all too aware of how flushed you are, how sweat is sticking your hair flat to your skin. He flashes you that crooked smile you adore so much, eyes shimmering with mischief as he regards you.
'Hot enough for you, darlin'?' he teases, blowing a gentle puff of air over your face. You try to squirm away, but the thigh between your legs is insistent, pressing against the heat now pooling there, and making you throb against him.
You murmur in embarrassed assent as your head falls to his shoulder, his laughter vibrating through your already thrumming body. Soft lips find your ear again as eager hands press into the softness of your waist. The words that come next are honeyed, falling tantalisingly against the shell of your ear.
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