You mentioned that you're hateful of your old work but won't delete them. Does this mean you don't want us to interact with them? (liking it, or reblogging etc)
Hello!! No, absolutely interact with them, if you want! Iâm just embarrassed because I know I can write so much better!! Thank you for your question!!
One of the reasons why I donât delete my old work is because some of my favorite fics were deleted because of them thinking it was cringy so I donât ever want to do that to someone else :)
Can I request Yandere! Russell Adler being s/o best friend for a long time since in Vietnam and want to be more than just a friend but s/o always put their relationship in a friendzone until one day, he snaps. Thank you in advance!
Breaking Point
Warnings: Obsessive love, mentions of war, manipulation, drugging, mind control, false memories
Being a medic was a hard, grueling job, but being a medic for a bloody, unrelenting war like Vietnam was torture. The memories still are fresh in your mind, even after it was long done. It was hard, you wanted to forget it.
But, there were things you never wanted to forget, too. Fighting alongside soldiers, making sure they don't die, that is a bond you can't replicate. They were your friends, you brothers and sisters.
You had saved Russell's life.
A bullet had hit a vital point, and he was losing blood, fast. Within a week, he had Bloomed back to life. That's when your friendship started.
He, in turn, saved your life as well.
A rookie soldier had led the enemy straight back to your base. It was chaos, as your solider tried to fight back, being taken by surprise. You were unaware of what was happening, until one of your injured soldier was shot in their head right in front of you. You tried to defend yourself, but there was nothing you could do.
And when the gun hit your forehead, you knew you were dead.
Until Russell scattered the man's brain across the floor of your tent.
Things like that, you don't want to forget. Russell was a great friend.
But Russell didn't want to be a great friend. He wanted you to love him like how he loves you. Although he was sweet and handsome and you loved him, you just didn't like him like that. There was nothing he could do to change that.
Every time, he came back with more and more gifts and love letters and hope, you would let him down as nicely as you could. You were reaching your breaking point.
You just didn't know he was too.
-
"I just don't understand. What am I doing wrong?"
Your heart squeezed, but you just couldn't do it anymore.
"Russell, it's not you, I swear! You are an amazing guy, and a great friend, but I just don't have feelings for you."
"I could be an even greater husband, if you just..." He paused, "give me a chance."
All you could say was,
"I'm sorry, Russell."
And you were. You were so sorry that you didn't hear the defeated sigh, or the way his eyes shifted to a deep darkness. You were so sorry that you didn't even feel the tiny needle enter your neck.
-
He didn't want to do this, truely, but it worked so well with Bell. He wanted a real relationship, with real memories. But you were too damn stubborn. That's okay, there is plenty of time to make real memories with you.
-
Your vision was blurry when you came to.
When did you lay down? Why was your bed so.. soft and comfortable?
You were so warm, you never wanted to move.
Until your eyes adjusted, and you realized that it wasn't your room.
Shooting up, you tried to remember what happened last night.
Your jumbled thoughts were stopped by a soft, low voice.
"Careful Sweetheart, don't want you to get hurt now."
"Russell? Where am I? What happened?" You start to panic but suddenly your mind goes calm and frozen as he speaks again.
"Sweetheart, don't you know just how much I love you?" His smile is warm and loving.
And suddenly, your world turned rose pink.
You remember falling in love with Russell back in Nam', you remember how much you love him and how all you want to do is to be with him.
"Russell.." You can't find the words. You don't need to, as he leans down, gently cups your cheek, and kisses you deeply.
And you kiss back.
Because you know just how much he loves you, just like how you know just how much you love him.
Can I request a yan! Soap, Ghost, and König all liking the same reader? Maybe they have a shared dislike for a new soldier trying to hit on her
Three stones, one bird.
Warnings: Obsessive love, Gore, manipulation
God must have cursed the blood in your veins for you to have caught the attention of three violent, scary, men like Soap, Ghost and König. Whether you think they could share is up to your personal wants, but once an outsider comes in view, especially someone as lowly as a rookie recruit? Their plans are now on hold until this problem is taken care of.
Soap is the most vocal of his distaste at first. It comes off of a casual jealousy, and it can even be seen as cute or silly. Yet, the pure hatred in his eyes tell a whole different story then what he lets on.
König tends to let it boil inside. Honestly, if you didn't see how intense his stare was when you were talking to them, you wouldn't know at all how he was feeling. That's how he wants it.
Ghost understands, he really does. Being on base so long and seeing someone as attractive as you? He can't fault them at all. But his tightly closed fists hovering over his knife when the recruit gets a little too close reminds them that it doesn't matter if he understands.
Now, the recruit still proceeds. Does he really think he can go up agist them? That he actually has a chance? Or is he just stupid. It really doesn't matter, because they take it as a threat.
-
The night is dark, and the chilly air slowly seeps into the building, leaving a draft. The hallway is dim, and most people have already left. You would have left too if the new recruit, Kevin, hadn't stopped you.
"Sorry, you're probably in a hurry to get back," he chuckles softly.
You shake your head. "It's okay, what did you need?"
"Well, I just wanted to..." His eyes raise up and he notices someone behind you. Before you can look, he continues in a much more confident manner. "Would you like to go out this Saturday?"
You pause to think about it. "Yeah, okay, sounds like fun!"
He glances back behind you, a prideful look in his eyes.
"Great! I'll text you the information!" He grabs your hand and places a kiss on your knuckle. "Until then, love." He leaves, giving a wink to the person behind you.
You turn to leave, realizing that Simon was behind you.
"Sorry! Didn't see you there!" You give a polite smile and head on your way.
Simon stays there for a while, his dark eyes lacking any emotion.
Ah, so not only is he an idiot, but he also thinks he has a chance and wants to brag about it.
Simon waits for a moment more before pulling out his phone.
-
Kevin awakes at the loud bang at his door. Slowly, he walks to the door. He knows who it is. You can't flirt with Ghost's interest and get away with it, but he knew that. Kevin almost laughs at how predictable Ghost is.
"I was wondering when you were going to show-" His words were knocked out of his mouth as soon as his door was opened. He didn't predict that Soap and König would be on the other side.
Blood leaked out of his mouth where soap had hit him, and he wondered if he really did fuck up.
"What happened to your smugness? Thought you were askin' for a fight?" Soap stepped into his room. "I've been wantin' to do this for a long while." Soap says, stretching out the word long.
"Pathetic." König's voice rung out, rattling Kevins body. "You thought you were actually good enough for them? You aren't even good enough to feed the worms that live underneath the soil they stand on."
"Are you seriously doing this because of one person? You're fucking crazy." Kevin spits out some blood, "Listen I'm sorry, I was just trying to bang a hot-" His voice was cut off once again by soap's fist, sending him lying on the floor.
"Maybe you only hang around sleezy people, but they aren't somethin' you just bang." Soap sends another punch, this time sending two teeth down Kevin's throat. "Scum."
His scream rings out as König's heavy boot comes down on his leg, a sicking snap following. "It's also unforgivable if you say that you just want to fool her and break her heart."
The sheer force of König's stomp had broken his leg in half.
A new voice appears, as loud footsteps enter the room.
"You learn your lesson?" Simon questions, his eyes holding that same look as before.
"Yes! Please stop, please!" Kevin cries out.
"Good." Simon reaches a hand for Kevin to take. He grabs it, hoping to be pulled up and brought to get help, but his hope is crushed when Ghost yanks him, twisting his arm and swiftly breaking it too.
"Stay the fuck away from them."
-
You were feeling sour as Sunday arrived. Kevin had gotten into a fight with another new recruit and ended up with a broken arm and leg. On top of that, he would rather run away than admit that he completely ignored you all week.
Your mood shifted when Soap suggested hanging out with Ghost, König, and him. That sounded better than spending time with someone like Kevin. Besides, you always felt safer when you were with them.
At least that's what they wanted you to think.
A/N Note: I'm not feeling this one, but I figured I post it anyways.
Hello everyone, Poll here so I can figure out what I want to post tomorrow! But before that-
I want to try to post something everyday, because I actually love writing, especially with my fandoms and hearing you guys opinions and love! So please, whether you comment or put little notes in the tags, or say something in my inbox, PLEASE tell me how you feel about it! I LOVE hearing feedback and it makes me want to write more!!
Also reminder, check my upcoming work post because I change it daily! And if you requested something, it's okay if you don't see it pop up immediately, because I wang to make sure I have something planned and can write your request before putting it on my post. If I can't/ don't want to write it, I'll say that! So if you don't see your request within a week, shoot me a message and ask because sometimes I forget or don't see it!!
Alright, Poll time!
(Rqt means it was requested)
Which would you like to see most tomorrow?
Stalker!Ghost blurb
Alejandro with the prompt âAm I too much for you?â
Ghost, Soap and König with reader who is being hit on by a rookie (rqt)
Well by the time I actually posted, Yandere Ghost was in the lead, so that is out now if you haven't seen it! Sometime today or tomorrow the requested rookie one will be out so stay tuned :)
Warnings: Stalking, breaking and entering, gore/murder mentioned, slight mind break from reader???, Obsessive love.
Stalker!Simon who knows how fucked up he is. He doesnât care. He knows what he wants.
Stalker!Simon who is always watching you. Doesnât matter if you know heâs there or not, his eyes are on you 24/7.
Stalker!Simon who doesnât hide, and if anything, wants you to know. Maybe knowing that heâs there will stop you from going out.Â
Stalker!Simon who wards off anyone just by his presence alone. Friends? Famliy? Dates? Man or women? Doesnât matter. He wants you to be his, and his alone.
Stalker!Simon who doesnât like to share. He should be the first thing you see and the morning and the last person at night. Heâd like for you to be the first and last thing he sees too.
Stalker!Simon who breaks into your home so much you should just give him a key. It doesnât matter what you install to keep him out, heâs going to get in regardless.
Stalker!Simon who takes some of your things. Partly because he likes how it smells like you, or how it reminds him of you. Partly because he needs to know what shampoo and conditioner you like to use when you move in with him. Although, mostly because he likes when you know heâs been in your home.
Stalker!Simon who knows you are scared of him. How could you not? Donât worry. youâll get over it. Just let him rub circles into your hands, itâs one of the things he does to show his love.
Stalker!Simon who watches you sleep. You donât know if its a perversion thing or if he gets some peace of mind knowing that you are safe. His dark eyes hide any indications of what he is thinking.
Stalker!Simon who truly does love you. He just has a hard time of telling you. Thatâs why he likes to show you. Like when he shattered a manâs skull because he groped you on the train.
-
You know heâs there.
Itâs dark, probably the middle of the night, but there is only one reason why you wake up in the middle of the night.
Because heâs watching you.Â
It used to startle you, and you used to grip your blanket and cry and beg him to go away. That was a while ago. There's only so much begging you could do and it was clear that he wasn't going to leave.
So, you started to ignore him. Pretend he wasn't there. Imagine that your like was normal, and you weren't being watched by his ïżŒunbreaking gaze.
But tonight, was different. Maybe you were tired, and your fear and judgment were clouded. But your voice cuts through the silence of the room.
âWhy are you here.â You didn't care to make it sound like a question. After a while of cold silence, you were about to give up and go back to sleep, his voice finally responds.
âKeepinâ you safe.â
You respond, âIs it really necessary?â You can't help but think of the time before he consumed your life.
âDo you feel safe?â
You hated that you knew the answer. You hated that he knew it too. But now you can do things you never dreamed of doing. Taking walks at night, visiting places you never been, really letting yourself be completely relaxed. Only because you knew he was there, watching, waiting for something to happen where he could come and save you.
You sigh a defeated sigh, and that was enough of an answer for him.
Hello everyone, Poll here so I can figure out what I want to post tomorrow! But before that-
I want to try to post something everyday, because I actually love writing, especially with my fandoms and hearing you guys opinions and love! So please, whether you comment or put little notes in the tags, or say something in my inbox, PLEASE tell me how you feel about it! I LOVE hearing feedback and it makes me want to write more!!
Also reminder, check my upcoming work post because I change it daily! And if you requested something, it's okay if you don't see it pop up immediately, because I wang to make sure I have something planned and can write your request before putting it on my post. If I can't/ don't want to write it, I'll say that! So if you don't see your request within a week, shoot me a message and ask because sometimes I forget or don't see it!!
Alright, Poll time!
(Rqt means it was requested)
Which would you like to see most tomorrow?
Stalker!Ghost blurb
Alejandro with the prompt âAm I too much for you?â
Ghost, Soap and König with reader who is being hit on by a rookie (rqt)
âTelling me Iâm crazy sounds wrong. Letâs... just say Iâm madly in love with you.â
Warnings; Yandere/Obsessive love, Stalker Keegan, Mention of gore, unwanted kiss
The tense air was suffocating but couldn't breathe out the breath you'd been holding.
The man in front of you appeared to be just as frozen as you, his body twitching to find the right words to say. He almost looked meek, which was unbefitting of a man who had just beaten another man to the brink of death.
"You... weren't supposed to see this."
As you looked at the man who laid on the floor, you recognized him as the overly drunk and friendly man who had been at the bar earlier. He had been telling you poorly crafted pick-up lines, and it was clear he had a few drinks too many. In the middle of his drunken spew, he stumbled, grabbing your lower side to balance himself. Having had enough, you pushed him and kindly told him off. He took it decently, apologized, and made his way away from you. You had chalked it up to a stupid, dazed man and forgotten about it. You ended up leaving shortly after.
"Keegan... What the hell happened?" You questioned, trying to think of what justified this. Had the man picked a fight? Or had he ended up harassing someone else?
"Sorry."
Sorry? Why was he apologizing to you instead of the man who lay bloody just a few inches away? You trusted Keegan, but what the fuck did he do?
"He shouldn't have touched you." He stepped closer. You took a step back. "No," He shook his head, "He shouldn't have even talked to you."
You took another step back. He did this because of what happened? It wasn't a huge deal, and you had forgotten about it up until now.
But now, seeing him on the ground, you realized just how messed up this situation is. Keegan had taken it upon himself to teach the man a lesson for daring to touch you. You felt the guilt build up. He hadn't meant to touch you, and even if he had, Keegan had gone too far. The few scattered teeth across the floor proved that.
"Why the hell would you do this? He was drunk, and he didn't mean to!" You panicked, glancing around, trying to find someone, anybody to help. "We need to help him! We have to call an ambulance!" You glanced back to the man, who groaned slowly.
"He's fine. I didn't do anything that won't heal." He continued to get closer to you. "It doesn't matter, he deserved this." He glanced over to him, hatred in his voice, "Scum." He grabbed your arm and stroked it, trying to calm you down. "I really didn't mean for you to see this."
"You're crazy!" You cried out, yanking your arm away.
âTelling me Iâm crazy sounds wrong. Letâs... just say Iâm madly in love with you.â He grabbed you again, pulling you close in a forceful hug. "I'll do anything to protect you."
He looked into your eyes, almost as a plea to listen and understand why he did it.
You couldn't keep his gaze, opting to look at the man again.
"Damn it, Kid." He yanked your chin to make you match his eyes again. "Stop fucking looking at other men and pay attention to me!"
Where was the Keegan you knew? Who was this monster baring his face?
"Look at me. Fuck, look at me! Let me take care of you, let me protect you!" He looked pitiful almost. "I swear, I promise that I can give you everything you ever wanted!"
You stared in terror.
He leaned in. "God." He sighed. "I love you." He placed his lips on yours in a soft and warm kiss you wouldn't have expected from a man who had splattered another person's blood across the wall not even an hour earlier.
Not all of those were made from my own inspiration!
1. âIâm crazy?! Whatâs crazy is that this world refuses to let me be with you!â
2. âI LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! Iâm going crazy. Itâs because I love you.â
3. âDid you sleep well? Donât lie to me, I watched you.â
4. âGosh, you smell so good when we cuddle like this!â
5. âDo you think I enjoy punishing you?! Because I donât!â
6. âI feel like Iâm suffocating when Iâm not with you.â
7. âDarling, you look gorgeous covered in their blood.â
8. âDonât cover my love bites or else Iâm going to add more.â
9. âDo you want me to break your legs or lock you in a cage to prevent you from running away?â
10. âTell me how much you love me.â
11. âOne more chance! Iâm giving you one more chance to fucking stop resisting!â
12. âIâm going to carve my name into your skin so everyone will know that youâre mine.â
13. âCan you at least pretend to love me? Just for tonight?â
14. âYou think Iâm jealous? Believe me, you havenât seen me jealous yet.â
15. âShh princess...donât cry over this scum, he doesnât deserve your tears.â
16. âYou donât understand! If you accept me now, Iâll be your slave!â
17. âYouâve been such a good girl lately. If you continue to behave so well, I might just reward you. Would you like that?â
18. âI-I just want you to love me!â
19. âIf I ever see you with them again, Iâll kill them!â
20. âIf you leave me, Iâll die!â
21. âI donât care if Iâll go to hell as long as I drag everybody who dares to touch you, talk to you and look at you with me!â
22. âI donât know if I should be angry or turned on.â
23. âOh, donât worry, this isnât my blood. Itâs the blood of the person who touched you earlier today.â
24. âIâd kill for you.â
25. âThis might sound weird, but I like it when youâre sick. Because then you let me take care of you.â
26. â...Why do you cry?! Who made you cry?! Tell me their fucking names so I can rip their heads off for making my angel cry!!!â
27. âWe were made for each other, canât you see that?!â
28. âI need you more than I need air to breathe.â
29. âStop giving me that look! Stop looking at me as if Iâm a monster!â
30. âI desire any physical touch with you so please hit me more.â
31. âJust remember that Iâm never going to leave you. Thatâs a promise.â
32. âBabe! I brought you a gift. You donât know what that is? Let me tell you. These are the eyes of the person who kept looking at you today.â
33. âThe next time someone touches you, Iâll chop their hands off!â
34. âNO!! Please tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it, but donât leave me!!!â
35. âWhy do you suddenly care whether I hurt myself or not? You were going to leave me, werenât you?â
36. âI think I should hurt myself more often so I can get your attention.â
37. âEven thinking about you with someone else makes me want to throw up.â
38. âLook! I carved your name into my skin so everyone will know that Iâm yours!â
39. âI can end all of your pain. You just have to say those three words.â
40. âWhat I am doing? Iâm punishing myself. Why? Because I upset you earlier.â
41. âDonât worry, Iâm sure youâll look cute with a swollen stomach carrying our child.â
42. âYou have no idea how far Iâm willing to go for you.â
43. âIâll handcuff you to me if I have to!â
44. âEscaping is all you think about, isnât it? Always dreaming about it, always thinking about it?â
45. âI always wondered what those lips would taste like...â
46. âCan I...can I kiss you?â
47. âTelling me Iâm crazy sounds wrong. Letâs... just say Iâm madly in love with you.â
48. âI hate it when you pay attention to something else besides me.â
49. âYou donât know how much blood I already spilled for you.â
50. âTell me, is love supposed to be...this passionate?â
51. âThe next time Iâll kill someone I should take you with me. So you can finally see what happens when you try to run away again.â
52. âYou want to leave me?!?! Why?!?! Is it because I beat those people up who insulted you last week? Or is it because I didnât make you your favorite breakfast yesterday? Whatever it is, I promise I can fix it!!â
53. âIt is funny that you think you can actually leave me.â
54. âI donât mind being a monster as long as Iâm your monster.â
55. âI killed all of them and I would do it again if it means having you in my arms.â
56. âSweetheart...where are you hiding? I know youâre here. Come out, come out, wherever you are. Iâll find you anyways, I can hear your breathing.â
57. âIf you donât kiss me back, Iâll slit someoneâs throat.â
58. âListen, Iâm giving you two choices. Either you start eating willingly or Iâll force you. Thereâs no way Iâm letting you starve yourself to death.â
59. âHate me, scream at me, hit me. Do whatever you want with me, but please stay with me.â
60. â...You are telling me that I can live with my life without you, but you donât seem to understand that YOU are my life.â
61. âYou had a nightmare about me? Thatâs great! That means you think of me even when you dream. Even though I hope your next dream about me will be more pleasant.â
62. âIâll do ANYTHING and EVERYTHING for you.â
63. âYour hair is so soft and silky.â
64. âYou look stunning when you cry like this.â
65. âWhat are you doing?!?! Why would you do something like this to yourself?! Do you seriously think death will help you escaping from me?!â
66. âIt seems like I have to remind you of who you belong to.â
67. âSay my name again like this.â
68. âYouâre all I think about. I always think about holding you, kissing you, touching you, making love to you, breeding you...â
69. âYou canât find your clothes? Thatâs a shame. But you can wear mine. They look better on you anyways.â
70. âHearing you say that makes me want to fuck you so badly.â
71. âYour body, your heart, your soul. It all belongs to me.â
72. âDo you want your underwear back?â
73. âYou can use me however you want to. Just stay with me.â
74. âAs long as you love me everything is alright. You...you do love me, right?â
75. âI need you to stay with me. Forever! Without you I feel empty and lonely.â
76. âYou think youâre ugly? Who told you so? Tell me so I can give them an agonizing death for making you think that. And after Iâm finished with them, Iâm going to worship you in bed until you see how beautiful you really are.â
77. âI like it when Iâm sick because you always take care of me during these times.â
78. âYou want to see your family? Why? You have me and Iâm all you need.â
79. âIâll kill everyone you care about if it means having all your attention for myself!â
80. âI canât help, but be selfish when it comes to you.â
81. âThe more you struggle now, the heavier your punishment will be later on.â
82. âI feel sick every time you talk about someone who isnât me.â
83. âEvery time you look at someone else I just want to strangle this person.â
84. âIâm not the most violent person, but Iâm willing to change that if it means having you.â
85. âIâm all you need and youâre all I need. Isnât that just perfect?!?!â
86. âWhy...why do you keep resisting me? Thatâs not fair! Donât I deserve to be happy too?!â
87. âTell me you love me! Even if itâs just a lie!â
88. âIâm sorry that I keep you in here. But youâre too pure and innocent. Iâm scared that this world will break you. Iâm only protecting you.â
89. âPlease stop crying. You make me feel even worse. But you need to understand, if I wouldnât have chained you to the bed, you would have tried to run away again.â
90. âBabe...! Shit! Iâm sorry you had to see this, but please believe me! He deserved it! No,no,no, donât be scared of me. You know I would never harm you.â
91. âThey are going to hurt you. They are going to leave you, mock you, betray you, abandon you. But not me. Iâll be here for you. Iâll worship you, love you and protect you from the world. Just you and me. Forever.â
92. âI just want to be yours.â
93. âLeaving already? Stay a little longer. You know you canât refuse me.â
94. âYouâre just too cute kitten. I want to keep you with me forever.â
95. âYou mean the world to me, love!â
96. âI need you. I! Fucking! Need! You!â
97. âI feel like I...want to...protect you. Always...always...and forever.â
98. âEvery second I am not able to spend with you is a wasted second.â
99. âI would love to be your stars, your moon, your sun.â
100. âWe share a special connection that no one else has my darling.â
101. âThese people are stupid! Canât they see that youâre mine?!â
102. âYou enjoyed it when they touched you, didnât you? Well, Iâll remind you that Iâm the only one who can make you feel amazing.â
103. âPlease smile again like this! It makes my heart flutter.â
104. âAm I too much for you?â
105. âI watched you sleeping the whole night âtil morning and Iâm still not tired of it.â
106. âTake me, Iâm yours!â
107. âYes...Iâm crazy. Crazily, madly, truly and completely in love with you.â
108. âYou are mine!â
109. âI know sheâs cute. BUT SHEâS MINE! TOUCH HER AND IâLL KILL YOU!!â
110. âI wonât let anyone take you away from me.â
111. âIâm gonna make you love me~â
112. âEvery breath you take. Every move you make. Every bond you break. Every step you take. Iâll be watching you.â
113. âLove is patient. I, however, am not.â
114. âWhat a wicked way to treat me, the person who loves you, like this.â
115. âI know the sound of your heart.â
116. âI love you more than planned.â
117. âUse me however you want too. My body is yours.â
Iâm reorganizing my blog, and I will be completely restarting everything. As of right now, any of my old fandoms that I have been writing for, I am not writing anymore. I AM going to write for Call of Duty, as that is the fandom I am most active in.
I finally got a laptop so I can write pretty much whenever. I want to do more prompt events, polls and overall interacting with my followers.
Finally, all of my old work, I am INCREDIBLY embarrassed and hateful towards, but I refuse to delete them, so eventually all of my old work will be in a âOld Cringy Worksâ masterlist.
characters: papa emeritus iii/you, cardinal copia, nameless ghouls, sister imperator
wc & genre/notes: 8.1k â strangers to friends/lovers, fluff, suggestive content (minor discussion of kinks and terzo being terzo during mummy dust. That part starts with âIâd say youâre deflecting,â and ends with the divider.) neighbors au, reader has a cat⊠Iâll b honest idk what else to say
a/n: this is My blog and I get to choose how cringe I want to be. Yes I said Iâd not write for ghost and did it anyways after one (1) bad day. Yes this file is titled âhatehatehatemyselfâ on Google drive. The part after the burgundy divider is an optional ending. You can read the entire thing as platonic or slowly growing into something romantic. have fun x
Head turned left and right, looking around, no sign around.
The neighborhood is rather quiet today, the sun up and everyone out, at work or else. Rustling of grass with each breeze reaches your ears, and each time you whip your head toward the direction with hope.
In a breath, you cross the road and walk and walk and walk. Itâs a long one, not unbearably so but still a little unnerving. You donât recall many people going this way after all.
Now standing before the grand door, the little mailbox a few meters away awfully standing out, you raise your fist and knock.
And wait.
And waiting you do for almost a minute, if it werenât for the noises you hear, a clutter of something, a shatter there and finally footsteps.
The door swings openâ though it looks too heavy to be opened just like that and the man stands tall before you, forearm resting against the frame, leaning his entire weight to it, eyes barely open and you donât need to see the barely filled bottle he holds to tell he is drunk.
The scent of alcohol reeks off him just enough.
Your nose scrunches up at the smell.
Squinting his eyes at the sudden intrusion of light coming from the sun, he doesnât acknowledge you right away.
You doubt he has noticed you.
Isnât it a bit too early to be drinking like this already? He looks trashed, to say the least.
Then he seems to notice you, though he makes so little movement to fix his posture, the belt tied around his waist barely doing its job to hold the robe together.
Decent on the eyes, youâd have thought for the guy, if it wasnât for the weird face paint.
Getting too far and a little too early on the halloween spirit?
âAhâŠâ you clear your throat and try again. âSo you see, my cat was lost andââ
âOh perfect! Thatâs just lovely now.â he cuts you off, quite loud too. Head thrown back, he holds a sneer. âAnd what, little one ? Decided to come here and accuse us?â bottle dropped on the floor, rolls off to the side, hitting to an end by the door frame.Â
With both hands free, he throws them up in mockery, mimicking what you can only think to be a kidâs voice: ââ Oh no the big bad mean satanists stole my cat and used it for their sick rituals. ââ hands dropped to his sides immediately as he is done with his imitation, he glares down at you: âWell guess what? Buzz off! As if I donât have enough bullshit to deal with right now. Go find a more creative way to get in sherlock.âÂ
So they were satanists after allâŠ
Good to know you suppose, not that you care in all honesty. The whole church-like air of the building only gets more confusing for you though.
Before he can close the door to your face, you place your palm against it to stop him. âHey!âÂ
The force behind the door comes to a pause, probably didnât expect you to fight back.
âListen, Mr. Halloween or whatever poor Jack Skellington look you were going for.â you begin speaking, ignoring the way his face morphs into pure confusion. âHow about you listen to people before barking assumptions at them?â
A moment of breath, the resistance behind the door ends completely and he opens it full again, waiting for you to continue but doesnât seem all too happy.
âMy cat likes to go outdoors and one of my neighbors said to me once that he often visits this place. So can I please come in?â
Seeing it written clear that you wonât be leaving any time soon, the guy sighs and steps aside. âDonât touch anything and donât leave my sight.â
Footsteps echoing in the hallways, you âpspspsâ here and there in hopes of your cat turning around but to no avail.
Itâs only when passing a door that the guy pauses and curses to himself, you can hear the hints of an accent.
Turning to face him, he takes in your raised brow as a question.
âCopia has ratsâ pet rats. Your cat better be a vegan because I will not deal with his wholeâŠâ he gestures with his hand at nothing, âmourning or Sister Imperatorâs reprimanding if a single one of them is missing.â
âMr. Whiskers is a well behaving, domesticated cat with manners, thank you very much.â you say and turn your head with a huff.
Copia? Imperator? You have no idea who these guys are but youâre sure you can handle a couple of âŠdorky satanists, if the rest of them are just like this man baby at least.
You can always leave town before night too, if it comes down to it.
Only few steps away and the man watches as you disappear, yelling after you about âwhat did he sayâ and all that bullshit but you couldnât care any less because there he is, your precious baby!
All pulled up into a cozy little furry ball by the corner under a window, in what appears to be someoneâs bedroom.
Pretty messy too.
The man seems to catch sight of you and say something he thinks is amusing, or sleek, from the tone he uses, though you pay no attention to his words or how they suddenly run dry. (â well if your eye on me the whole time, you didnât need to make up an excuse about a lost c ââ)
Picking up your cat despite his protests, you turn and thank him with a nod. His words register in your mind with a small delay.Â
âMaybe consider tidying up your room, what are you, twelve?â and with that, you exit his warzone of a room and walk back the path you took, with Mr. Whiskers purring in your arms the entire walk home.
The second time your cat goes missing while youâre home, you know better.
Instead of wasting hours searching around, you hike up all the way to that dreaded place and knock on the door with force and impatience.
It is a woman who answers instead.
A woman who does not seem to be the slightest bit impressed.
Staring at her bored face, you take notice of her clothes you can deem as formal for the place, the sound of fabric brushing as she crosses her arms, you snap out of it, trying to formulate the words regarding your cat and and all.
Whatever thought seems to pass her mind, you conclude that she doesnt care and watch as she leaves the door open, walking back inside. So you hurriedly follow.
âSleek, black hair you said?â she asks, still walking ahead as you nodâ shit, satanist or not, she canât have an eye at the back of her head now; letting out a hum of affirmation you fasten your steps and try to walk by her side.
Steps come to a halt before a closed door, she knocks firmly, once.
Upon receiving no answer whatsoever, she rolls her eyes and opens the door.
They must have quite the savings you think, to have a place with soundproof walls and doors. The unmistakable sound of skin slapping against skin, breathy moans and all, you wonder to yourself, couldnât your cat have picked somewhere âŠnormal to take his afternoon naps.
Paying the scene before her eyes no mind, the woman steps inâ is that who the man referred to as Sister Imperator?, and you catch her words about grabbing the darn cat now and continuing his pity party later.
The sounds of sex stop and you can hear someone walking around all the while mumbling something.
Before you can thank the woman however, she turns and walks away.
Less than a minute later the same man from before peeks out his head through the door.
Wearing a different robe this time and doing a poor job of holding your cat, though Mr. Whiskers doesnât seem to mind, the traitor, he watches as you take the cat from his arms.
As you turn to leave and call it a day, maybe open a bottle of wine and see where the night takes you, a âhey!â catches up to you from behind.
Leaning against the door frame like he did the first time, he waits for you to face him.
âJust let me know next time your cat comes over. I doubt neither you nor Sister would like to become frequent acquaintances.âÂ
You eye him with a suspicious look. Sure the woman does seem like if she sees you 3 times a week or more for your cat, she might sacrifice you and Mr. Whiskers to Lucifer with her bare hands but hey, you cannot control who answers the door now.
As if sensing your train of thought, or, a part of it, he lets out a sigh, âMy windows are pretty wide. Pretend theyâre doors or something.â
â...right.â Sounds more and more reassuring with each word for sure, great , thank you Mr. Whiskers.
Then an after thought seems to follow as a whine can be heard from inside his room, â Just â maybe let me know ahead before you come through the window, yeah ?â
âAnd I should do that, how?â you ask, wishing the whole encounter to be over âI donât want you charging me if a stone happens to find its way in.â
From how he mumbles the words âchargingâ and âstoneâ confused, it seems to be taking him a while to register your words.
The implication of your words seem to dawn in as his face goes down âLast I checked, cellphones exist.â he states, not sounding too happy about the possible danger his precious windows may face.Â
âAnd how should I know this isnât some weird excuse to get my number?â you sound skeptical, on the edge, probably finger hovering over that dial button to the police if it wasnât for the cat in your arms.
At your words though, he chuckles. âI do have a girl in my bed right now, you know?â
âAnd my question remains unchanged.â staring at him with a dead serious expression, you watch as his amused face falls, his eyes rolling and he shoves a hand down one of his pockets, taking out a pen.
Expectant eyes on youâ wait, what is up with his eyes? , he pushes off the cap, shaking his left arm so the robeâs arm can slide off, revealing his skin, waiting. Waiting for you.
âYou better not send me any weird crap or call-â you state then say out your phone number.
Well, worst comes to worst, you know a good lawyer.
Third time's the charm is how the saying goes. You have your doubts but perhaps there is truth to it as the manâs ridiculous window idea works.
It takes no time to figure out Mr. Whiskers spends his afternoons there because the rays of sunlight hit just right, and right next to where he sleeps is a comfortable armchair with black and white hair decorating its surface a little.
Few steps ahead of his windows, the view of a wonderful garden has attracted your attention but you know better than to ask, or enter without permission. The amount of times youâve dropped by increases at record speed, yet the air between you both is still tight.
He lets out a warm laugh when he gets a good look at him once, but when you ask, you get no reply. Surely this cannot be the first tuxedo cat he has ever seen in his life.
One silence after another, he must've sensed how tense and awkward it feels too, as a little after he tries to make conversation and apologize.
So they are a satanic organization, thatâs fine.
Youâve always wondered as a kid about the gatherings youâd see within a distance but never bothered to check for yourself.
A rock band to spread their word and message however, now that is odd. Youâre starting to think their anti church might be the most normal thing to them.
Yet you remain your silence and let him speak, listen, and try to make as much sense of them as you can because god knows you wonât be leaving this place any time soon.
He says he isâ was the frontman of the band, and their beloved antipope , but was dethroned , or so he claims, few days prior to your arrival.
You can understand frustration over something you have dedicated your time and effort into, and for you to be pulled off it without a logical explanation. That explains drinking until the brain shuts down despite that scent of alcohol still stings your senses.
Nodding to his words, you take his apology and leave with Mr. Whiskers that day. He asks if youâd like to see the garden the next time your legs are dangling off the windowsill.
You accept in a heartbeat.
With the weather warming up and all, your cat seems to enjoy the garden as much as you do.
Trees and flowers of all kinds tended to with care and love, you can tell. Each arranged with care, the entire place paints a beautiful picture before your eyes, and endless too.
Same as the window, this becomes a habit too. To stroll in the garden and sit on one of the stone benches, talking or staying like this in silence.
He seems fond of Mr Whiskers for reasons unknown to you, until he pulls out a photograph of someone in what you make out to be a tuxedo of sorts, on a stage no less.
The photograph is of small scale, you cannot make out much of the details, so he takes it upon himself to explain that it is indeed him in the photo and the looks of your cat caught him by surprise because of his looks.
Without waiting for a reaction, he offers to show you the outfit he wore back then, though he sounds a little melancholic about the whole thing still.
Sure , you agree, but keep it to yourself that the regency shirt and black pants look just fine on him.
It blurs at one point you begin visiting even without Mr. Whiskerâs presence in his room.
Bursting out into laughter, he looks almost offended at your reaction. âIâm sorry-â your giggles break through as you wipe off a tear, âwhat did you say it was again?âÂ
âEmeritus.â he says flatly.
âEmeritus.â you repeat, this time doing a better job at containing the giggling.
âYes, Emeritus,â he says again and adds, âThe third.âÂ
If your laughter before was loud, this is something beyond, enough to make him go deaf in comparison.
âOkay no, Iâm not calling you-â you bring your hands up to finger quote, âEmeritus The Third.â you say in a serious tone. âAnd Iâm certainly not calling you âpapaâ or some bullshit title.â you cut in before he can get a word out.
âWeâre going to need a nickname, what about âemâ?â
âEm.â his tone asking âare you for real?â, his turn to repeat now.
âOkay no, thatâs just as bad, give me some time to th-â hand covering his face, he just shakes his head with a sigh.Â
âJust call me Terzo , caro mio.â
Seeing as to no reply from you comes, he removes his hand and looks up. âIt means â the third â in Italian.â
âOh,â you manage to say, though you do sound a little different now, perhaps you thought from his reactions you hurt him and now feel sorry about that?Â
âYeah, I can do that, Terzo.â speaking with more confidence now, testing the name on your tongue, you talk more to yourself and nod your head than to himâ he finds watching you act like this, how you operate and think as you talk endearing.
You find yourself liking spending time with Terzo more than youâve realized.
Work is work, adulting is the same and sometimes relationships with friends feel dull or far away.
To say the least, he is interesting. Usually something to catch you off guard or wondering, it is guaranteed your time with him is never one to fall victim to boredom.
So he speaks of his life, of things he has done on the road and whatnot, even going as far to recreate when he tried to kick off a beach ball only to fall, basking in the waves of your laughter, even complaining to him by nighttime that your face hurts from laughing so much.
In return you feel you donât have as exciting stories but he listens as if theyâre the most wonderful things he has ever heard.
You deem them mundane and every time without a beat, he says only to you.
It comes down to, more like remembering, those scenes from when you were a kid.
He is awfully quiet that day, when you speak of seeing figures in black walking in tow, a kid or two that seemed to be your peers but how their estate in the eyes of some were off limits, and it was always at an odd time for you to be walking up there and talk with the kids.
A shame, the two of you couldâve met much earlier, yet he doesnât voice it and you do not realize it.
Of all the things he has experienced recently, entering his room, to a bed unmade, finding you wrapped in the covers and sound asleep, would score high on Terzoâs list of things he wouldnât expectâ that is, if his brain could even muster up such a scene.
He doesn't need to, though, as it becomes real before his eyes and he makes way for the loveseat that night.
He doesnât pry about it and all you say under your breath is that you felt lonely.
âWhat about Wh-â before he can ask, you open the covers partly to reveal that Mr. Whiskers is indeed with you, in his bed.
He just hopes the cat wonât switch his usual spot for his bed when he comes next time.
The nightly visits from you start to occur more, by the third time he knows itâll become another constant, though not as frequent.
You do appear upset that he has to sleep on the couch, yet he waves his hand dismissively, that he doesnât mindâ he doesnât want to make you uncomfortable, or cross any unnamed boundaries. Which is a little outside the usual for him, he is known for being bold, for holding and kissing hands and doing much more when he can even smell from a kilometer away the slightest of interest the other party has in him.
The next time it repeats, he is startled by a sudden noise as he makes for the couch as always. Turning on his heel only to see you patting the spot next to you in his bed.
Sure, it is a spacious bed, more than enough space for the both of you, and Mr. Whiskers, yet he still feels tense about the whole situation.
What if he wraps an arm around you or something in his sleep and you wake up angry, that he jumped into conclusions, that this wasnât what you wanted at all and that youâll never visit again and file a restraâ
âYou think too much.âÂ
You draw him out of his pocket sized crisis with few words and a flock on his forehead. âKeep doing that and youâll end up with wrinkles in no time.â
What else can he do but chuckle at that and sink into sleep, safe and sound?
Wine is a skillful loosener, as the two of you rediscover together.
On days you stick around for longer, he makes his offerâ though you refuse it as much as you can.
Despite dropping by unannounced after a while, you haven't walked into any intimate moments. And against your initial claim, your phone does get bombarded, usually photos of Mr. Whiskers when Terzo catches a glimpse of him, or when he thinks he is being adorable.
The latter is worse, because Terzo always finds him adorable once he warms up to the cat. The way he acts through text makes you picture him lying on the floor, hands supporting his chin, legs behind him dangling in the air, watching the unknowing cat as he sleeps or does the most mundane cat thing anyone can think of.
Neither of you are aware just how fascinating mundane is to him.
You can sense his pout from meters away.
âOkay, Iâll bite.â you put down the stacked papers. âWhat is it?â
Crossing his arms, he turns away partially, grumbling under his breath, âI donât know what youre talking about.â
Getting closer to Terzo means many things, witnessing the absolute manchild that resides in him included.
Picking up your phone to turn the volume down, your eyes find his figure againâ either he resembles Mr. Whiskers more than you gave them credit for or your time spent with him making you delusional. âOut with it already,â his form shrinks only further, âor no more visits from me or Mr. Whiskers.â
Now that , gets his attention.
Eyes focused somewhere near your face intentionally, he almost appears reluctant to say the words.
âHow come you never listen to any of my songs?â
It takes you few seconds longer to register his words.
Before you can answer, he begins rambling, so rushed and in a whisper, all you can hear is few words in italian, which youâre sure are curses slipping his tongue and terms of endearment.
âI just⊠forgot?â you offer with a shrug.
Okay, maybe not the best response as this gets him to throw his arms into air, â mio satana , you are unbelievable.â a finger pokes into your side, you haven't even realized he already crossed the distance between you both.
So he gets jealous when you listen to other musicians, huh , you save the information for future use.
As you begin laughing, he chuckles, muttering under his breath. âI guess, Iâll have to bring a ritual to your feet.â
It goes unknown to you that Terzo semi-regularly orders cat food for Mr. Whiskers, not that the cat ever seemed to be hungry when he was there, but hey, cannot hurt to try. If the cat only decides to visit him, with you in cue, more often, now there is no harm in that.
Another thing unbeknownst to you, is that, despite the distance between their estate and your house, Terzo can spot your lights without much effort.
If he were to dramatize the entire thing between you both and more, heâd refer to it as a beacon of light. But he doesnât need to, because there is nothing more to what it is between the two of you, even if unnamed, even when he cannot help wondering â what if âŠâ, wondering if he is misinterpreting things.
So when he doesnât see the lights turn on by the night time one evening, he doesnât care, maybe the power went out, maybe you just want to try something different for a change. He certainly doesnât care in the morning when he sees a second figure come out of the door, or when you drop by later that evening, a throbbing headache and â long day at workâ you just murmur as you fall asleep on his shoulder.
You accept the wine when you're taking another stroll in the gardens.
With the weather beginning to cool down, you welcome its warmth to your very bones.
Booze loosens your tongue first, and soon your senses, your train of thought. Whether itâs a good thing or not that youâre not the only victim⊠you don't know.
âWas it worth it at least?â he muses as youâre seated on the same bench, glasses sat on the ground.
You twist your face, trying to recall, âOnce I tuned his voice out, yeah I guess?â he snorts at your words, âIsnât this the usual case?âÂ
âNah,â you drag the word as you reach for your glass, âHe could also suck in bed. So the entire night wasnât a waste I suppose. Never going back to that place though, Iâm picky for a reason.â
You say the words more to yourself as a mantra than anything, Terzo watching you with a giggle hanging on his lips.Â
âBad drinks as well?â
âItâd be charity to call them as such, ugh,â with a sigh, you drink down the remaining half of your wine, tipping the empty glass to his direction.
Taking your glass, he switches it with his and you take no time to bring it back to your lips.
âBut this?â you raise the glass, ânow that is a quality product.â
With another chuckle, he reaches for the bottle and fills the empty glass in his hand.
The topic of your recent and unfortunate endeavors morph into complaining about work, people in the streets, weird posts on the internet and whatnot.
âOkay, okay,â you try to speak inbetween laughter, âso what about weird preferences when it comes to sex?â
He just gives you a teasing smirk as you place your finger on his lips as a means to shush him âwe already know weird shit and food combinations the other likes, consider this a slight change of topic.â
âIâd say youâre deflecting, but alright, Iâll buy.â he shrugs, throwing his head back to drink from the bottleâ the glasses cast aside an hour or so ago.
âAny kink you can think of, Iâm most likely into already, so just ask me yourself.â
You bring a finger to your chin, contemplating what to say for a moment, âSocks stay on or?..â you let your voice trail off, gazing at him from the side with a smile.
Bringing a hand over his heart and another against his forehead, he faces you fully and lets out a loud gasp. âCaro mio! You wound me. I might be the antipope but I am not a lunatic!â
He opens one eye to seize your reaction, and when your gazes meet, both of you burst into laughter.
âBut the face paint stays on, no?â you gesture to your face once you stop clutching your stomach.
âEveryone has a preference, tesero.â he shrugs.
Considering his position and the closest people he can find to fuck, it does add up, you suppose.
âNow enough about me, what about you ?â He leans in to you, flashing his teeth. Not letting him get to him, you snatch the bottle from his hand.Â
âWhat about me, indeed huh? Just your basic, vanilla bullshit.â you close your eyes as you gulp down the wine.
Your comment only ignites him further, with another chuckle, he scoots closer, âYou? Vanilla? Iâd beg to differ,â and again, with the poking to your sides, he pleads âDonât keep your papa waiting now.â âOkay first of allââÂ
You snap your head to him, only to be nose to nose, â Not the âpâ word, we went over that ages ago, not calling you that.â
âOnly because youâre being such a tease,â he sing-songs, his head thrown back.
 âYou are such a child,â you mumble as you place the bottle between your legs, hands gripping its neck.
âBiting, I suppose.â You can hear him open an eye and look your way, âNothing extreme as I said, but people arenât exactly dying to be covered in red and purple, you know?â
âNo, I wouldnât.â he answers, âtheir loss.â
You can sense he wants to pry further but keeps himself, and hell , the wine is good, there is another bottle waiting by his foot, and compared to the amount of black mail-level footage of him you've got, this feels like nothing.
âTaking risks.â you say in a whisper, partially hoping he doesnât hear.
âNow, this falls vague, bella.â he says. âRisks of conceiving, catching STDSââ he begins counting with a finger,
â No ! I said risks , not being an idiot.â You cut in, a hand covering your face.
You know he is waiting with that smug smirk, ârisks of getting caught, like, dunno , semi public spaces and the likes?â you ask more than speak, meeting his gaze as you finish speaking.
âSo thatâs where the biting comes,â he speaks in a knowing tone, âleaving telltale marks blooming everywhere?â he muses as his hand begins to move, finger grazing against your skin.
âLike this?â he asks, hand going up and drawing patterns on your thigh, slowly going up, his eyes gauging your expression.Â
â...yeahâ you say in a breath, letting his hand reach the inner side of your thigh. A finger flicks against the bottle, drawing out a trembling note, making your eyes flash though all your times here, you never saw anyone else in the gardens.
The bottle has long gone warm but his hand feels cold against your leg, youâre aware of his eyes locked on your face yet make no haste to draw yours away from the plants up ahead.
His hand begins to travel upwards, making way to fiddle with the hem, going under and his skin meeting yours.
Before he can do anything further however, you both jolt with the sudden noise coming from behind, between the windows.
âCazzo!â he mutters and gets up, making way to enter his room through the windows.
While waiting for him, you go for the other bottle, pouring yourself some more wine, at least with a glass, you can keep count.
Pausing to listen around, you hear the commotion has died down.
Picking up the other glass and hoisting the empty bottle under your arm, you make way for the stained glass windows youâve grown familiar with over the course of time.
Terzo doesn't seem to pay much mind to the interruption though, the conversation picks up from where it left, now talking in a more general sense.
âYou give off vibes of someone whoâd make a sex playlist,â you begin as he listens with a nod, â and add your songs to it.â
âAs I said gioia, everyone has their preferences.â he reaches to take the bottle from you, not expecting your arm to draw back, âyet I cannot help but be upset,â he sheds a nonexistent tear, âthat you think my thrust game is so weak.â
Seeing as you freeze at his words, he takes a step to you, grabbing the bottle from your hand with a smile and places it down, not stepping back afterwards. âIf you want a demonstration though, I am always happy to help.âÂ
As if your silence was anything to go by, now it is deafening, the warmth and flush of your skin; youâre unsure if the cause is alcohol or him .
âAnd I did promise a demonstration of my songs to you before, didnât I?â he says as he takes another step your way.
âSo you see, we got this fan favorite song, Mummy Dust,â he speaks while pretending to be interested in the ceiling, gesturing with a hand in the air, âbut not because of the lyrics.â he remarks with a smug expression, redirecting his gaze to you as he takes another step, barely any space left separating the two of you.
Youâre unsure what to say or do, when left alone in a room with a bunch of people wearing identical masks.
You think, Terzo mustâve pulled a rope here and there, or acted in secrecy considering his sudden drop of position in the band, to have gotten into this studioâ and bringing you no less.
The people he referred to as Nameless Ghouls stare at you, and you back at them. You can imagine the confusion they must be going through.
Then the man of the hour reappears with a clap of hands, dressed up in an outfit resembling a suit, and his previous remark at Mr. Whiskers suddenly comes back to you, finally making sense.
A concertâ or a ritual, as he put it, he promised and one he delivers.
A ghoul begins playing his guitar in sync with the drums, as two of them walk to stand at their both sides and with a sudden stomp of foot, they all play in, in a fashion you can describe as â knocking the wind out of your lungs .â
Only when Terzoâs singing, and soon the instruments coming to a stop that you realize you've been holding your breath the whole time. And quickly find out you may as well die due to lack of oxygen by the time the day comes to an end if they only keep up this momentum.
One song after another, they captivate you gradually. Be it the way the ghouls play or the way Terzo moves as he sings, radiating with energy. Walking around and messing up with one another, bothering each other at timesâ it all creates the illusion of a found family.
Briefly moving his hand, the ghouls pick acoustic guitars once another song comes to an end.
After each song he tells its name and some informationâ or funny memories he finds important you know.
With a signal of his hand, the ghouls switch to acoustic guitars and Terzo begins humming: âa one, a two, three, and four.âÂ
With a move of his hand, they all enter the song.
One hand in a fist, resting against his hip and the other in front of him, he sways his hips softly as he sings.
It doesnât miss your attention how some of his moves arent as innocent or random as they seemâ when he brings his other hand to join the stray one, hoisting them up in the air as if holding something, or how after he holds the microphone with one hand and violates the poor stand with his fingers. Hands thrown into the air and shaking in the air as a ta-da once in a while, he takes a step back to point at one of the ghoulsâ playing.
The song comes to an end and you think youâve done good so farâ then he decides to announce that the song is called Jigolo Har Meggido and you burst into laughter, leaving the men in the room utterly confused.
It takes several minutes for you to gather yourself, wipe away the tears all the while ignoring Terzo hovering over you with concern, unsure whether to approach you or leave you be in your violent laughter.
âIâm sorry-â your words die in your throat as another wave of laughter takes over again, âitâs just-â hand clutching over your stomach, you do your best to look up, âyou do re-â, meeting his face only makes you laugh again.
A tap on your shoulder distracts you a little. Taking the water bottle one of the ghouls have brought to you, in your frenzy you didnât even realize him leaving, you take a few sips to calm your nerves.
âI know youâre flirty and all, but witnessing you calling yourself a manwhore caught me off guard.âÂ
Definitely not something worth laughing to that extent over, Terzo doesnât say a word and instead flashes you a toothy grin.
âYouâd be surprised to hear it was his brother who wrote this song.â you hear someone say, the same ghoul from before.
âAh!â Terzo waves a hand dismissively in the air, âenough talk of that geezer. Now , what do you say to a grammy winning original?âÂ
The ghouls slowly begin as Terzo walks back, their eyes on him and his hands, watching every move and tilt, following his guidance. Compared to the other songs theyâve played so far, this one comes off much softer, gentler, making you wonder what will come next.
Raising both hands in the air as if in praise, the ghouls all stop and silence takes over, waiting, and with his signal, they enter the song, picking up stronger than where they left off.
The melody matches the lyrics somewhat, the impression of a thunder, it builds up and carries smoothly.
He begins singing what you assume to be the second verse, drawing closer to you at a steady pace. His voice becomes the only thing you hear as the instruments falter and die out, quietening one by one. The microphone now held in his left, his right hand reaches out to hold yours, bringing it up near his face as he keeps singing: â Can't you see that you're lost without me?â
And with it, they all reenter the song with a bang, your hand still in his, Terzo kisses the back of it in between lyrics and steps back to his initial position.
Drumming his fingers in the air, swaying them at the direction of either of the ghouls, they all circle around the keyboard playing ghoul as the song shifts into an instrumental part.
Eyes never leaving theirs, especially not his, not when he makes sure to lock his with you, you watch the entire performance almost in a trance, mind going blank.
When the song ends, you can see his expectant looks on you, already beaming with whatever compliment heâs positive youâll be giving him.
So you decide to pick the teasing route.Â
âIt was nice.â he stares at you, his face clearly showing he wasnât waiting to hear that. âNice?..â
Humming in affirmation, you nod your head. âYeah, nice.â tilting your head to the side, you speak up, â Say , this helps you get some?âÂ
The man stands there, blinking at you for what feels like eternity.
The ghouls in a similar stance, though youâre sure youâve heard one of them snort, and another snicker.
The eternity ends with a shake of his head and a faint smile on his face. âYes, sorella , it helps me âŠget plenty actually.â he uses your phrase.
âWell,â he clicks his tongue as he places the microphone back to its place, âif itâs a âŠmeretricious song you desire, how about I give you,â his pace of speaking slows down, as if holding his breath, waiting for imaginary drum rolls: âMummy Dust!â He drags the words in a low grumble, shaking his hands in the air once again.
From how he starts swaying and moving his hips, you immediately recognize the song.
As Terzo begins singing, the sound of a door opening and clicking close reach your ears and when you twist halfway in your seat, you see a man with pencil stache dressed up in black, his hat partially resembling a bat, same painted eyes and upper lip like Terzo yet lacking the rest of the face paint.
The man stills in place when he sees you, only gets his feet to move again when you pat the vacant spot near you.
Whispering greetings back and forth, you immediately remember his name.
âAh youâre the Cardinal!â Your voice comes out a tad more excited than expected. The man on the other hand seems confused as to how you know him already.
âHow are your rats? Happy, I hope. I am so sorry, I never got the chance to apologize to you or to them because of Mr. Whiskers.â The words leave your lips in a breath, leaving the man dumbfounded, repeating your catâs name in confusion and unaware,Â
âah, I-, my most sincere apologies, who?..â
âMr. Whiskers, my cat, didn't Terzo t- oh.â Unfortunately the mention of a cat before you can stop makes his eyes go wide, and you try your best to assure him that your cat didnt even set foot into his room, somewhat calming the anxious man down.
The music on the other hand, as well as the singing, gets louder and a tad more aggressive.Â
Probably unhappy with how your attention was led somewhere other than him. So needy and grumpy, spoiled like a cat.
âUh, we can save our discussing for after the song?â Cardinal suggests, to which you nod. âI'd hate to impose on this- uh, special performance his excellency was displaying for you.â He says, coughing on his words at the way Terzo moves.
âIts alright Cardinal. I was given a demonstration of this song already, I am not missing out on anything.â
Again, you mustâve said something wrong, because instead of relaxing, the Cardinalâs face tenses up and goes bright red.
â Oh !â You wince, âpoor choice of words on my behalf. That's not what I meant.â You try to offer an explanation with a sheepish smile, but to no avail.Â
At least Terzo looks quite pleased with the interaction, as clear from the smug expression taking over his face.
The previous incidentâ goes unaddressed between the two of you but the air between doesnt waver.
Still, it must have triggered some sort of change, you conclude, as Terzoâs texting habits only evolve into a different stage.
Sure, it went for quite a while that the initial purpose of exchanging numbers was abandoned yet he still possessed control, a sense of self restraint, when texting you.
Definitely the absolute opposite of whatever it is going on as of now.
Maybe youâve spoiled him too much, your brain reaches another conclusion as the lips on your skin snap that thought in the middle, pulling you back into reality.
You still donât visit him as regular as to say daily, or even biweeklyâ so you hold onto the benefit of doubt that he has absolutely no way of knowing youre busy trying to have a nice night, focused on pleasure and the feeling of euphoriaâ
Another vibrating sound against your nightstand cuts into the air, your sceeen lightning up right after.
You ignore it only so far until you find yourself scrolling and typing up a reply, the light coming from the screen reflecting against you and the man youâve forgotten about already.
As you smile at his newest text, hearing that stupid whining of his voice and the pout, someone next to you clears his throat, snapping you back.
âAnything I should know about?â He only asks and in all honesty , you cannot blame the guy. Youâd have reaches into equally ugly assumptions, were this to happen to you.
But it didnt, and it isnât right now, so its only a little too late that you put yourself in his shoes.
âNope.â You say, walking up to your bookshelf and placing the phone screen down, âjust a friend.â
The guy hums, sounding skeptical but doesn't pry.
You give him the benefit of the doubt but few too many repeats and you know it's intentional.
You did spoil him too much it seems.
Another afternoon by his side, you're sitting on the window sill, one leg tucked under yourself, he is busy on the other side of the room, who knows what he is preparing this time.
âWine?â he turns on his heel, holding a glass and the bottleâs neck tilted slightly already.Â
âNone for me, thank you.âÂ
Eyebrows raised in curiosity, a scheming expression takes over. âOoh? Any plans for tonight?â He inquires. You donât need to know that he is dreading the confirmation that'll leave your lips.Â
âI guess,â you shrug, turning to look outside the window, âpromised Steve weâd spend the night together.â
Heavy silence spreads from your words and takes over the room.Â
The teasing remarks signature to his natural charm never comes and you turn your head to see if he even heard you in the first place⊠or left the room before you spoke⊠or somehow passed out in silence as you spoke.
Your worries ease upon seeing him standing there, still, not even a muscle moved from his last position, unreadable eyes staring at you.
Only when you tilt your head towards, asking âwhatâs wrong?â and only then he snaps out of whatever trance he was in, coughs and tried to laugh it off with a â have funâ , pouring himself a glass.
Unbelievable.
Discreetly taking a sip from his wine to distract himself doesn't do much to ease him and the now unimpressed look you're giving him makes even the wine taste bitter on his tongue.Â
âWh-â âyou are unbelievable.â
Okay, you don't just seem pissed, disappointed?, something definitely negative; you sound like it too.
âFor wishing my friend a fun night?â And with a guy he has never heard you mention beforeâ the word friend stings to say. âIâm sure Steve is a good gu-â â Again,â you dont let him finish, âyou are unbelievable, absolutely childish and overall a great idiot.â
Okay now you're just being mean. A scowl makes its way to his face before he can even notice, making you shake your head in disbelief like a mother scolding her kids with a smile.
âIf youre done with the insults cara,â he says and raises his glass, appearing pissed and upset as he downs the glass.
âTerzo, you met Steve.â His head snaps up at your words. âSteve?â you repeat in question, âSteve Whiskers?â â ring any bells? â He can hear you say in followingâ
The faint smile of yours slowly evolve in a giggle as you watch the gears turn in his head and finally connect the two and two together.
âThe cat?!â His voice comes out louder than he meant to, suddenly straightening up and wiping invisible dust off his clothes, he clears his throat.Â
âExcuse me for my sudden input of volume.â You reply with a smile, âSend my best regards to Mr. Whiskers.â
You see the ghouls around few more times you're in the perimeter, as well as the scary woman from before.
Sitting in the gardens with Terzo again one warm afternoon and she passes in the distance, her eye catching sight of you no doubt.
Jumping in your stead, you rush to where she is. Terzo watches as you speak with more animatic gestures, Sister remaining stoic as always. You bring a hand up to scratch your head in unease, then holding out a box of sorts. As you are about to turn, he sees your body beam , most likely at something Sister has said as she walks away.
You pattle back to where he waits, trying to contain a big smile and pulling out few cookies from behind in surprise. Just as he does with anything else you offer, he devours the cookies, making sure to express his gratitude and worship before and after.
You settle back next to him, laughing at the way he acts as he ignores the crumbs on his thighs, resting your head against his shoulder and relaxing.
Yet you never tell him what it was Sister Imperator has said to you that got you in high spirits; not then, not later.
When you wake up with the sunlight grazing your face from the wrong direction, your first instinct is to return to sleep.
Having falling asleep by Terzo's side a reasonable amount of times now, it feels just as comfortable as your room. Despite his chest not being as soft as your pillow, the comfort of his mattress easily beating yours makes up for the loss.
Just as a content smile makes its way to your lips and you, more than eager to return to sleep, the situation of now sinks in and you can feel the warmth drain from your entire body.
Sure, this is not the first time you've found yourself falling asleep here, even in his arms, limbs tangled up no less; but all those instances contain one huge difference from the predicament you find yourself in now and it is last night.
Maybe you should pretend to stay asleep until he is summoned for anything, but the chances of this are dangerously slim. The light coming from between the curtains doesn't burn into your eyes just yet so it must still be fairly early, maybe you can sneak out before he can return from the land of dreaming. But that'd would leave bigger problems for future you and frankly? future you has gotten sick of your 'dancing around with nothing acknowledged' bullshit.
You take a deep breath, and shut your eyes furtherâ hey perhaps they'll glue themselves together from how tight your muscles are contracting and with your sudden admittance to the hospital and the emergencu of the entire situation, it'll all get forgoâ
A sudden noise stops your entire thought process crashing. A trainwreck, yes that's what this is.
Sucking a sharp breathe in, you think 'now or never', suck it up once and face on with courage.
Creaking one eye open and meeting Terzo's eyes on yours, every single muscle in his face loosened and his expression what you can only describe as to be 'at peace', all your anxiety from bare seconds ago gets washed down the drain.Â
And for the first time in a long while, you allow yourself to relax, fully, and bask in whatever the futureâ and he, along with it, will offer you.
It was forced. Not arranged. No. Donât get that confused. It was a forced marriage. A forced marriage to join the two most powerful churches of the anti-Christ together. A forced marriage between you and Papa Emertius III.
The two of you first found out at a âfamily dinnerâ. Satan knows why they called it that, after all it was practically just a meeting with food you darenât touch after learning what the ghouls feast on. Papa Nihil took a gulp of oxygen before turning to your father, âQuade,â Your father hummed. âI believe it is time.â âSi, Nihil. I agree.â He replied, and you looked between the two with questioning eyes, your mother just offered an almost animalistic grin, before the inevitable followed.
âEmeritus, (Y/n),â She began. âYou are to be wed.â You dropped the cutlery in your clutch and it clattered harshly onto your empty plate. âExcuse me?â You coughed. âDo not interrupt me, child.â She seethed. âYou are to join the two churches in a marital conjoining of law.â Her voice was cold, and harsh.
You had been planning on leaving the church for years. And now you were well and truly trapped. Never mind, you were fucked. âYou canât make us.â Emeritus spoke up, voice shaking slightly as Nihil gave him a side-glance. âWe can and we will. On the night of October 31st you are to join in holy matrimony.â She concluded, a sickening look of contempt settled over her features.
âThatâs a week today.â You stated, voice rising. âDo not raise your voice at me girl. You will do as I say.â Your mother hissed. âMama-â âEnough!â She slammed her left fist against the table, causing Emeritus and yourself to jump anxiously. âThis is to happen under the watchful eye for the anti-Christ and you are not to disobey me!â
You inhaled sharply before raising from your seated form, chair screeching on the floor as you sent it backwards. You hurried out of the room, not knowing where to go as this was the church of Nihil, not your own.
A cellar. That was where you found yourself. The tears on your cheeks were hot, your mind buzzing with a mixture of angered emotions. You heard the door creak from the corner you were bundled in, but you couldnât care to look. Why should you? Your life was being sold to a breathing corpse and his family.
âAmor,â You hear the voice of the person you least wanted to see at that moment. âFuck off Emeritus.â His tone soon changed. âI donât want this shit as much as you donât, but at least I have the decency to be civil.â He stated, voice icy. âCivil? I wanted out of my family. Not to be sold into yours.â You told him, looking up to meet his stare. âWe are slaves to Lucifer. We have been sold. (Y/n) you cannot run from a fate that has already captured you. Grow up and understand that.â He spat. You just shook you head and dropped it to your knees.
Emeritus approached you and held out an envelope. You raised an eyebrow. âIf I am to be married, my bride is to wear the best dress money can buy.â Suddenly he was unable to make his gaze meet your own. âI can buy my own dress.â Realising you would not take his money, he just dropped it by your feet. âBlack is a good colour.â He began walking to the door. âThere is no point running from it, believe me, I have tried.â The door shut behind him.
The next week passed disturbingly fast, and somehow you found yourself at the steps of Nihilâs Church, clutching a bouquet consisting of black petunias, roses, tulips, and dahlias. The black dress you were adorning trailed behind you, dragging against the cold stone floor. The lace of the bodes dug into your skin and your hair was pulled back uncomfortably tight. Nothing about this day was a fairytale, only the horrors of a nightmare.
To a foreign eye the way your fatherâs arm was gripping your own was wholesome and heartwarming. But he was merely holding you that tight as to not allow you to flee. He was more anxious than you, him eager to hand you over and seal the fate of the church of the Anti-Christ.
The doors opened and the audience stand, a very limited number of which you recognised. You only looked at your feet and you walked the dull-lit isle. âStand up straight, girl.â You heard your mother whisper, harshly. You automatically corrected your posture, only looking at your supposed groom when you reached the altar.
Emeritus wouldnât have admitted it to anyone at that moment but himself, but oh lord, you were gorgeous. The black lace. The long trailing vail. The black flowers. Everything about you was breathtaking. He felt like he had died and gone to hell.
You kneeled on the black velvet cushion beside Emeritus, inhaling slowly and slowly accepting the knowledge of what you were about to do. You hardly heard the voice of the vicar as the ceremony droned out, only to feel your heart drop out of your chest when silence followed the question of objection.
You reluctantly held out your hand as the small blade created a cut in your palm, and you couldnât help but revel in the pain for a moment, enjoying the feeling of slipping away. Even if only temporary. A slice was made into your companionâs and they were forced together, and you had to stifle a hiss of pain at the sensation of your blood mixing.
The rings were exchanged and the vicar grinned. âYou may now kiss your bride.â Neither of you moved, but when Papa Nihil intentionally cleared his throat, Emeritus gently gripped your chin and turned it towards his. âI am sorry.â He left a light and lingering kiss to your lips, but that was enough for the chapel room, as an eruption of applause followed.
That was it. It was done. You were wed and you were stuck. You were now the wife of Papa Emeritus III.
The reception was a complete oxymoron of your mood. It was joyous and even your mother cracked a smile, they were happy and had done their job. You were a pawn. Their pawn. You were miserable and the mascara patterning your skin showed that. You sat on the steps with your head in your hands, bouquet disregarded beside you.
You heard someone exit though the door behind you, and then they perched alongside you on the icy cobblestone. You looked towards your estranged associate. It was Emeritus. Your husband. He said nothing, only sipping on a glass of expensive champagne and allowing his bow tie to fall loose along with the top few buttons of his once-crisp white shirt.
âIt wasnât supposed to happen like this.â He told you, eyes not moving from the moon hanging high above the pair of you. You just hummed, turning your head to look at him. âWe were supposed to fall in love. You denied like Romeo and Juliet. We were supposed to be forbidden. We were not supposed to be forced, mi amor.â He admitted. You had already accepted it at this point, all optimism being left in the pool of blood sitting back in the Chapel. So all you could do was listen.
âI always loved you.â He said. âI used to comb my hair back when my father said your family was visiting. I even picked you some flowers but I never made it past the doorway. I was scared.â He finally looked you in the eye. âI am still a scared little boy, (Y/n).â He swallowed thickly. âBut now I am a scared little boy with a wife.â He just shook his head with a cold chuckle. âYou were supposed to love me, not hate me.â You watched a single tear fall from his eye.
You said nothing, not a word in response. But you put your arms around your husband and pulled him into an embrace, resting your forehead against his shoulder. He returned it tightly, inhaling the sweet scent from the mixture of shampoo and perfume. You pulled back and wiped the tear from under his eye and steadily kissed where it once was.
That night he became the Papa of the church. And yourself his wife. He opened the door to the two of yours room and not a word was spoken. You slept in the bed and he laid his head down on the large sofa. You both cried yourselves to sleep that night. Somehow your thoughts were silent, nothing was on your mind. And that confused you. But you knew one thing for certain, you were okay being his wife.
The next morning you walked around as if the other was not there. He made his breakfast and you made yours. He went about his day with his ghouls and you went about yours wandering the gardens. And it stayed that way for a while. Actually for approximately four months.
It was late February, almost March. That day you woke and did something almost outlandish. You made yourself breakfast, and then your husbands. You donât know why you did it. It was not intentional. And you had not done this previously. But you just did it, automatically. You made him breakfast.
âGood morning.â He mumbled, walking into the kitchen and towards the cabinet for his cereal, not expecting a reply. âGood morning.â You responded softly, holding out his bowl to him. He looked between yourself and the contents of the bowl for a minute or two, before taking it from your grasp and putting his hand on the back of your head, pulling you forward to kiss your hair with gratitude. Thank you, Cara Mia.â He said and for once you gave him a genuine smile, before a silence took over the household once again. But for the first time is was a comforting silence, not a thick or harsh one.
You each got dressed simultaneously and you sat at the vanity, grumbling over the small clasp on your necklace that was refusing to cooperate. He held out his hand and you looked at him through the mirror. âMay I?â You passed him the delicate jewellery and held your hair up in your hand as to not get it in his way, and he seemingly effortlessly joined the chain around your neck.
âThank you.â His eyes met your own in the reflection as you expressed your appreciation, and he reciprocated earlierâs smile. âYou are welcome.â He grabbed his song sheets after a moment of looking at each other, and headed for the door. Although, suddenly stopping abruptly. âWould you like to join us? The ghouls would not object to your presence in practise.â He asked, thoughtfully and you turned to him - not even second guessing your answer for a moment. âYes, I would love to.â
Now, it wasnât the first time that he had offered you a seat in their rehearsal room, but it was the first time you had accepted. You slipped on your shoes, and followed him out of the door, slipping your arm into his when her held it out for you.
You knew most of their songs off by heart. Not by ear, but by reading. You had taken the time to learn all of the scripted lyrics of your husbandâs band, whether you meant it in a loving way or not. You kept to yourself in the corner, picking at the petals of a forget-me-not flower that you had plucked on the way here.
âIs she just going to sit there making a mess?â One ghoul growled, motioning vaguely to the pail petals now haphazardly decorating the floor. You think he was called Dewdrop, at least thatâs what Emeritus had informed you. âAre you just going to stand there playing out of tune notes?â You retaliated, sarcastically cocking your head sideward. âOh you think you could play better than me?â He snarled. âOh you think you can play?â You reacted and he took a few steps towards you. âWatch your mouth, after all it seems like youâd make a decent meal.â He warned, but before you could strike back, a deafening shout was hollered from across the room.
âHEY!â Emertiusâ voice was loud and laced with a horrid venom. He took large and fast strides towards the ghoul, backing him up against a wall. âWatch how you talk with my wife. The scared ghoul could only cower and nod furiously, trail tucked with a cowardice between his legs. âYes papa.â His once cruel and demanding tone now weak and shaking.
Then your husband turned to you, taking your face into his hands with a light and delicate grasp. âAre you okay, Mia Caro?â He asked, a small and regretful pout at his lips, you only wrapped your hands around his hand nodded. âI am fine.â âWhat do you say to her?â He asked, head turning back to Dew. âI am sorry.â âAnd?â âAnd I will never talk with you in that way again.â He couldnât meet your eyes, not even with a mask to hide behind. âI forgive you.â And the practise went on, a newly found feeling dwelling in the darkest pits of your stomach after the events of that situation. A feeling that was unrecognisable and foreign, but understandable and welcome.
That night Emeritus walked over to tell you goodnight, but you patted against the spot beside you in the intentionally shared bed. He looked at you with a questioning gaze. âCan you sleep here tonight?â You asked, suddenly nervous for his response. âPlease?â He smiled gently, climbing in next to you and turning off the light. It was silent and still for a long while, before his hand brushed against yours. You both pulled back but then you did something even you didnât expect from yourself, you turned onto your side and placed your head against his shoulder.
Instead of pulling away, he immediately wrapped both arms around you and hugged you close, lips against your forehead and lingering there for a long while. âEmeritus?â You began, voice small and quiet. âYes, my love?â That was the first one he had addressed you in those terms in English. âI am also a scared little girl.â You referee back fo his confession on your wedding day and you heard him inhale sharply through the darkness. âBut I think I am also grown up enough to admit that I have always loved you too. And I am happy to be your wife. Even under these circumstances.â He took your face in his hand and kissed your lips gently, smiling with bliss covering his features.
The next day was the beginning of his first tour as the new frontman of Ghost. His first rituals under the public eye. The brothers and sisters of the clergy gathered around the bus as they were waved off, but The Papa ignored his desperate disciples and focussed all of his attention on you. Your face was cradled in his hands, his bags disregarded by his feet. âI love you.â He told you, caressing your cheekbones with his thumb. âI love you too.â You kissed him forcefully on the lips, knowing that would be the first and last time you had to do that in months. âBe safe.â You instructed in a protective and warning tone and he just laughed wholeheartedly. âI will, mia dolcezza.â And he was gone. Gone to preach to the world the word of the Anti-Christ. Gone from your grasp for another night.
The following day you decided to write to him, a wholesome, innocent little letter describing your feelings and the love you had recently discovered was lying dormant in your heart for him. He returned it with as much love and adoration, and they only accumulated from there.
But the virtue and decency was lost a while after your writings began, and were replaced by that of sin, and many that should remain closed behind the confinements of a loverâs bedroom door.
You were both excitingly anxious and nervously reluctant to send that letter. For it described what you desired your husband to do to you, the things that were disregarded and abandoned from the consumption of your wedding night. And with it, a few small Polaroids of which the contents shall not be spoken through words.
The crude images and sheer lace sent Papa Emeritus III wild. He wasnât necessarily expecting that message but he was more than great full for it and to return it, a sudden flood of want and need rushing through his cold blood and thumbing through the confinementâs of his underwear. He needed his wife. And he needed you now. And so in return, you got what you gave, a set of small photographs that now sat buried beneath your underwear in a drawer, the sight of his dick now enough to send you into a crazed and dazed frenzy, also - some nights spent by yourself, pleasuring yourself through unspeakable things.
So when the time came for them to return, you stood anxiously along with the brothers and sisters of the church, awaiting your beloveds return. Only snapping out of your distant and wild thoughts when the cheers and eruption of clapping filled your ears, the bus was here.
Papa was first of the bus, and his eyes scoured the crowd, before they focused on you. You both smiled wildly and he shoved through the hoard of followers and straight into your arms. He picked you up and span your around, kissing you with as much force of what should have been at the altar. âI have missed you so much, my love.â You told him. âI have missed you more, magnifico.â He put you down and leaned close to your ear. âYou are a naughty girl, sending those Polaroids.â A jolt of electricity powered through your legs and straight to your core. âDid you not enjoy them, darling?â You asked, peering up at him with innocence shining through your doe-eyes.
âYou do not want to know what I did with those images.â He growled. âOh I think the results are sat in my drawer upstairs.â You responded, a small smirk playing on your lips. âYou have no idea what I want to do to you right now, mi amor.â He hissed, discreetly grinding his quickly growing erection into your front. âDo it to me, papa. I want you to make love to me.â You stood on the tips of your toes to whisper into his ear. âI need you to ruin me.â
Thatâs how you found yourself beneath your husband. He had carried you bridal-style back to your shared abode, and carefully dropped you onto your bed, lips hungrily travelling over all the skin he could get to. âAre you sure, amor?â âPlease, yes.â You whimpered our, finding yours and his clothes thrown across the room into multiple careless piles.
He appreciated every inch of your body, licking and sucking and marking his territory like a wild animal, only stopping at your underwear to regain consent. âPapa please do something.â You pleased. âWhat do you want me to do, Mia Caro?â He teased. âYour mouth.â You groaned. âWhat do you want me to do with my mouth, come on sweetness, use your words.â You cried out. âI want your mouth between my legs.â âThere we go, I can do that.â And before long he was kissing a trail down your thighs and quickly then licking and sucking on your sensitive clit, tongue diving into your hole every so often. âPerhaps my mouth was not necessary,â He dragged two fingers against your slit in a teasing manor as you moaned loudly. âYou are already dripping, after all.â He hummed against you, sending vibrations pulsing through your body.
He plunged two fingers into you and you cried loudly, an overwhelming sensation filling you as your stomach tightened. âPapa Iâm going to, I-â He smiled and nodded. âYes my love, let go.â And the cord snapped, allowing you to come undone all over his fingers. âGood girl.â
He lined himself up with your entrance and your eyes widened, concerned that he would be unable to fit. âAre you ready, mi amor?â You nodded; letting your head fall backwards into the comfort of the fluffed-up pillows. He slipped inside until he bottomed out, the only noise for a prolonged-moment was the sound of the two of yours mixed heavy breathing, as he allowed you time to adjust.
Emeritus threaded your fingers through his own and raised them both above your head to support his weight. âMove, please.â You requested, and he began rocking back and forth. Once neat hair, now gradually becoming dishevelled and falling around to frame his face. He growled anomalistically, but did not quicken his space. Instead, dragging it out to bask in the long-awaited pleasure and allowing you to feel every inch of him filling you up.
That pleasurable feeling returned once more, and he kissed your lips to help you through it. You moaned into his mouth as you came, forcing him to cum also, straight after you. He remained buried inside of you for a moment, head in your neck, before he pulled out and rested beside you, pulling your body into his and the covers over the two of you.
I know requests are closed right now but I was just wondering if you write for characters that haven't been introduced in the anime yet ? I have severe brain rot for Scotland uwu . Love your content uwu
I do! Scotland was my favorite back in the day. I pretty much can do any 1p characters, regardless of them being introduced or not!
