#Terzo is otherworldly
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I know Terzo is portrayed in the fandom as being very suave but he strikes me as the type to be more unintentionally unnerving. Like standing in the corner of a room with wide vacant eyes, sporting a cheshire smile, blissfully unaware of the siblings he is freaking out by simply just existing. It’s a mix of awkward creepy and seemingly being intentionally unsettling. Intimidating is the word??
#not in a Copia 🎶Creep by Radiohead🎶 way#Terzo is otherworldly#Papa Emeritus III#Ghost#Headcanons#Copia is just a weird loser whereas Terzo is just w e i r d#Meliora Era#My Mummy Dust#The Band Ghost#Ghost the Band
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18 with Terzo bc HONESTLY that's the plot of jigolo har megiddo
FORMAL WEAR
"I can't wait to take your innocence."
There's a smut under the cut, +18 only, please.
(Female!Reader: unprotected sex; fingering; teasing; dirty talk; Italian swearing; swearing; semi-public sex)
Available on AO3
Day 26 | Day 28
The night of the Halloween ball had finally arrived, and you had eagerly awaited it the entire week. Excitement coursed through your veins as you counted down the hours until the event. Papa Emeritus III, affectionately known as Terzo, was renowned for hosting the most extravagant parties, and tonight, he had something special in store: a Masquerade party with a Halloween twist. The concept was peculiar, as it required guests to dress up as monsters, witches, or creatures, but with the added mystique of masks.
However, you felt an inexplicable urge to defy convention. Instead of donning the typical ghoulish attire, you sought to bring an air of contrast to the evening. Your heart was set on something more elegant and formal. You had decided to opt for a graceful, floor-length dress and a delicate, unadorned mask. In your mind, you envisioned yourself as a character straight out of one of those enchanting princess tales, where a chance encounter behind a mask led to a whirlwind romance, or so the stories go.
Having just finished dressing up and making sure everything was in place, you gracefully made your way to the garden where the much-anticipated ball was set to unfold. You couldn't help but wonder if Papa Emeritus I, Primo, had any reservations about all the eccentric siblings wandering around the garden simultaneously. However, you figured that Terzo must have worked his charismatic magic to put Primo's nerves at ease.
As you entered the garden, you were greeted by an enchanting spectacle. The ambient lighting was a mix of eerie and alluring, with various hues casting an otherworldly glow. The decorations were hauntingly beautiful, and the carefully curated music added to the spine-tingling atmosphere, perfectly in sync with the Halloween theme.
The atmosphere at the event was beyond amazing, and you found yourself completely engrossed in the festivities. With the enchanting ambiance all around you, you decided to take a brief respite and headed toward the food table. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride; after all, you had lent a hand in the kitchen earlier, and the dishes turned out to be nothing short of delectable.
As you scanned the crowd, trying to spot your friends among the masked guests, your eyes locked onto a figure standing in the distance. It was a man, and he seemed to be gazing directly at you. The mask obscured his features, leaving you curious and somewhat intrigued. You couldn't be certain if he was one of the siblings from the ministry or just another guest. Maybe even someone from the Clergy.
Your curiosity piqued, you furrowed your brows and discreetly averted your gaze from the mysterious man. You hoped to lose him in the crowd as you began to move through the garden in search of your friends. To your surprise, the enigmatic figure matched your pace, maintaining a certain distance, and never breaking his gaze from you.
An uneasy sensation settled in the pit of your stomach as you did your best to avoid his penetrating stare. It was as though his eyes were fixed solely on you, and you could feel them on you even as you continued to walk.
As you finally came to a stop, feeling an overwhelming need to confront the mysterious man, you turned to face the spot where he had been. To your surprise, he had vanished, swallowed by the pulsating mass of dancing siblings.
Convinced it had all been a figment of your imagination, you turned to retrace your steps, intending to head back to where you had been. However, the moment you pivoted, your breath caught in your throat. There he stood, right behind you.
"You are looking very beautiful tonight, principessa," the man said, his voice strikingly familiar.
You couldn't believe your ears. "Papa?" you inquired, a sense of recognition dawning upon you.
"Oh, I'm not Papa today," he replied, a sly smile playing on his lips, "I'm just a masked man at a masquerade ball, sorella." He extended his hand toward you. "Would you like to have a dance with me?"
Your heart pounded, and you looked down at his hand before nodding in confirmation. You reached for his hand, and he led you gracefully to the dance floor.
As he placed his hand on your waist and drew you nearer to him, the rhythm of the music seemed to adapt to the pace of your heart. It wasn't a slow dance, yet he moved with such fluidity and grace that it felt as if a classical ballad played softly in the background. You glanced around, trying to comprehend, but all faded into insignificance when he pulled you even closer, leaving only a mere inch between your faces.
Your breath hitched, and you found yourself lost in the intensity of his gaze. His eyes bore into yours, a silent conversation unfolding between you. You followed his lead, allowing him to guide you gracefully as the music played on. Terzo took a deep breath, drawing back from you slowly, though his hand remained on your waist.
"Would you like to go to another area?" he asked.
"Of course," you replied, your voice trembling slightly.
He gently slid his hand from your waist and interlocked his fingers with yours, leading you out of the garden and back inside the ministry. The two of you walked in silence, following him down a corridor, and the anticipation in the air grew palpable.
After a brief moment, he turned to face you and slowly removed his mask, revealing his face for the first time without the signature Papa paint. His eyes bore into yours, and he took a step closer. With a delicate touch, he reached for your mask, removing it and allowing it to fall to the floor.
"Can I?" he whispered, his voice laden with meaning.
You nodded, your heart pounding, understanding the unspoken question. You closed your eyes, ready for what was to come. His hands slid to the sides of your body, drawing you closer, and you rested your arms on his shoulders. Terzo leaned in, and your lips met in a tender, passionate kiss.
As your lips danced together in a fervent embrace, you took a deep breath, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, drawing him closer, and his response was a deep, guttural groan that escaped into your mouth. Your hand found its way to his hair, fingers caressing the strands gently, eliciting a shiver from him.
He moved his hand to the small of your back, pressing you even closer, as if such closeness were even possible. The intensity of the moment surged, and your mouths parted, allowing your tongues to meet in a passionate, almost erotic dance.
He led you backward until your back was pressed against one of the cool marble walls of the hallway. His body was firmly pressed against yours, and the passionate kiss was momentarily broken as he moved to your neck. His lips and tongue trailed along your skin, leaving a trail of hungry, feverish kisses.
You unwrapped your arms from around his neck, one hand remaining on his head, fingers tangled in his hair, while the other hand found its place on his waist. The intoxicating scent of his cologne enveloped you, and you couldn't help but close your eyes, your mouth parting in a silent moan.
"Papa..." you called out, your voice quivering with desire. "I don't think... we should do it here..."
"We are not doing anything wrong, sorella," he whispered, his warm breath against your skin as he continued to suck on your neck. "And no one will see us here; they are all at the party anyway."
"But what if..." you attempted to voice your concern, but your words dissolved into a passionate moan as he bit your neck ever so slightly.
He withdrew from your neck and met your gaze. "Should we put a pause on this? If you'd rather not continue, we can stop."
In a soft voice, you replied, "I don't want to stop, Papa."
A low, satisfied growl rumbled from him, and he brushed his lips across yours. "Molto bene," he purred. "I can't wait to take your innocence."
You chuckled softly, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, fingers caressing the tension there. "Who said I'm innocent, Papa?" you said with a playful tone.
"I thought principesse like you were innocent," he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.
You leaned in close, your voice a sultry whisper, "Not this one right here." As you spoke, you gently ran your tongue along his lips, watching with satisfaction as his eyes rolled back in pleasure.
A big, devilish smile spread across his lips as he turned his attention back to your neck, trailing a path of soft kisses from your neck to your shoulder and collarbone. His hands gently caressed their way down to your shoulders. His fingers traced a path down your shoulders, gently pulling the straps of your dress down, baring your breasts for him.
His hands skillfully moved from your arms to your breasts, tenderly taking them into his warm palms and giving them a gentle squeeze. His kisses grew more fervent on your neck, and the exquisite sensations caused you to gasp in response.
"Ah... Papa..." you breathed, your voice filled with desire.
"You can call me by my name if you want, sorella," he whispered, his warm breath tickling your ear.
"Terzo..." you moaned.
"Perfetto," he cooed, his voice laden with desire. "Again," he commanded, gently increasing the pressure on your breasts.
"Terzo..." you moaned once more, your voice thick with longing.
"Molto bene," he praised. "Again," he repeated as his mouth found your breasts, taking a nipple into his warm mouth, and sucking on it with an intoxicating fervor.
"Terzo!" you cried out, your senses fully immersed in the pleasure of the moment, your eyes closing in ecstasy.
"Hold your dress for me," he whispered, biting your nipple gently.
Your hands moved quickly to comply, lifting your dress up for him. He then knelt before you, the tension between you both growing even more palpable.
"I can see someone is already wet for Papa," he remarked, his eyes fixated on your panties. "Molto bene, you're making your Papa very proud."
Terzo wasted no time, swiftly moving his hands to the waistband of your panties and sensually pulling them down to your ankles. He tucked them into his pants pocket with a sly smile. His gloved hands then, gently caressing your calves and making their way upward to your thighs. With each caress, he left a trail of kisses along your legs, heightening the sensation as desire coursed through his veins.
"Sei così bella," he whispered, his voice filled with admiration. "I recognized you the moment you arrived in the garden. As soon as I saw you, I knew who was behind the mask. I was waiting for you."
"W-Waiting for me?" you stammered, surprised by his words.
"Sì," he confirmed, his lips brushing against your thigh. "La sorella più bella nel mio ministero. How could I not notice la più bella among all of them?"
He continued to lavish kisses all over your thighs, making his way to your inner thighs and leaving a trail of soft bites that caused your legs to tremble with anticipation. His chuckle at your reaction only added to the excitement, and he proceeded to trace a path with his warm, lingering kisses from your inner thighs toward your core.
He lowered his face, and his lips and nose brushed sensually against your folds. The sensation of his nose lightly grazing your clit and the softness of his lips proved overwhelmingly erotic, causing you to whimper at the intense pleasure. Terzo then rose from his knees, his hand moving to rest gently on your pubic mound, his touch leaving you trembling with desire.
"Do you want me to touch you?" he asked.
"Yes, Papa," you replied, your voice filled with longing.
"And here?" He lowered his hand, his fingers gently finding your clit and pressing it.
"Yes, yes, yes," you moaned, your pleasure evident. "Yes, Papa, just there."
"I said you can call me by my name, sorella," he gently reminded you, his fingers continuing to rub your clit in a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure through you. "Say it to me now, say my name."
"Ah! Terzo!" you moaned, your back arching in response to the intense pleasure.
"Bene, you are so good for me," he praised, his hand moving lower, leaving your clit, and exploring your entrance. "What about here?" he inquired.
"Mmmm... very much..." you purred, completely lost in the fiery desires.
Terzo slowly slid his middle finger into you, and an intense wave of desire engulfed your entire body. He held it there without moving, watching you as you began to move your hips, seeking a response from him. His sly grin only added to the tantalizing anticipation, creating tension. Slowly, he added another finger, and the sensation caused you to moan softly.
"Do you think you can handle another one, sorella?" he asked, his index finger teasing the contours of your entrance.
"Yes, Terzo," you purred with confidence. "I can handle it all." Your hands gripped your dress even tighter, holding it up for him.
He nodded and then slowly inserted his third finger inside you. The intense sensation caused your body to jump with pleasure, and you felt as though you were melting under his touch. But he held his fingers still, prolonging the tantalizing agony. Your urgent need for movement was evident as you tried to convey it by clenching your walls around his fingers, silently urging him to move.
He grinned at you, fully aware of how much you desired this. Terzo withdrew his hand from between your legs, and you looked down at his fingers, now glistening with your arousal, moaning in frustration.
"You like that, sì?" he teased.
"Yes," you admitted breathlessly.
With your response, Terzo slid his fingers back inside you, initially moving them in and out gently, but gradually picking up the pace. As he quickened his rhythm, you couldn't help but arch your back and release a soft moan of intense pleasure. His movements became faster and more purposeful, skillfully targeting your most sensitive areas.
The sensation was incredible, but your desire for more was insatiable. You gazed up at him with a pleading look in your eyes, silently urging him to take you even further in the depths of lust.
"What is this look, sorella?" he inquired, his eyes locked onto yours.
"I want you, Terzo... inside me," you whispered, your voice heavy with desire.
"Inside? You want my cock?" he inquired, his voice a sultry murmure
"Yes, please... give me your cock," you begged.
He sensually removed his fingers from inside you, bringing them up to his mouth and sucking them clean, his gaze never leaving yours.
"I will give you what you want," he whispered, his voice a sultry promise, a devilish grin on his lips.
Terzo stood and removed his pants, and you watched with anticipation as his erection sprang free, hard and ready. He moved his hands to your legs, lifting them from the floor and placing them on his hips. As he did, you felt his hardness pressing against your moist folds. Your hands left your dress and found their way to his shoulders, gently caressing them.
“Please, Terzo… Please, fuck me… right now…” you begged, your desire laid bare in your voice and your pleading eyes.
Terzo placed his hands on your waist and lifted you slightly, guiding his length into you. You gasped as he entered you, feeling the fullness of his hardness. As his entire length penetrated you, a moan escaped your lips. Your head fell back as you savored the sensation of being filled so completely, and your eyes closed as you relished the feeling of his warm body pressed against yours.
"Merda... so wet... so tight... feels so good inside," he moaned, his voice laden with pleasure.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him, and your senses were overwhelmed by the pulsing rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. Your eyes locked with his, and the burning desire in his gaze ignited a fierce passion between you as he began to thrust. Leaning forward, he placed his hands on your thighs, keeping you firmly in place.
"Oh, Terzo... so good..." You moaned, arching your back as his thrusts sent waves of pleasure through your body. "Your cock feels so good inside..."
"Does it, sorella?" he asked, his eyes burning with desire as he continued to move inside you. "You like my cock inside you?"
You nodded eagerly, your nails lightly scraping along his back. "Yes... yes... but please don't stop..." Your hips instinctively rocked, urging him to quicken the pace.
Terzo's lips found yours, and he kissed you hungrily, your tongues intertwining in a passionate dance. His thrusts quickened, and the intensity of your connection deepened with each movement. The corridor was filled with the sound of your moans, the erotic echoes of your desire. His hands gripped your hips firmly as he maintained a relentless rhythm, his length sliding in and out of you.
"Yes! Just like that! Oh, Terzo! Yes... fuck me just like that..." Your voice was filled with ecstasy and longing as you couldn't help but moan and cry out in pleasure.
His passionate rhythm showed no sign of slowing down, his length driving into you with unrelenting desire. The corridor echoed with the sounds of your moans. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you held him close, lost in the intoxicating whirlwind of sensations. Terzo's desire for you intensified, and he picked up the pace, thrusting into you with a frenzied urgency. Your moans grew louder and more desperate as his movements became faster and more passionate.
"Merda, your pussy feels amazing," he growled, looking at you with desire in his eyes. "You are so hot, taking my cock so well. Your pussy is taking me so well, and it's driving me wild, sorella."
You met his passionate thrusts with your own, rocking your hips in sync with his, creating a harmonious rhythm. Your mouths met again, and your kisses were filled with hunger and longing, your tongues dancing in a passionate exploration.
You broke the kiss, locking your gaze with his, and the intensity of your need mirrored in his eyes left you feeling weak and consumed by the lust. Your head rested against his shoulder, and the sound of your heartbeats echoed in your ears.
"Terzo... Terzo..." you moaned his name, your voice filled with longing, and you heard him grunting with pleasure. "Terzo, please... more... more..."
Your body undulated with each rhythmic thrust of his length, the sensation of being completely filled transcending any experience you'd had before. Terzo maintained the deep, relentless rhythm, and you couldn't help but release a long, low moan of profound satisfaction. His hands tightened their grip on your thighs, and you were certain he could feel the tension building within you. The intensity grew as Terzo's thrusts became harder, his movements faster and powerful.
"More? You want more, sorella?" he groaned, his voice heavy with desire.
"Yes... give it all to me... please, please, don't stop, fuck me," you pleaded, your need for more was undeniable.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to penetrate you even deeper. The sound of your breathing grew ragged, and your moans became increasingly urgent. Your body arched against the wall, the impending climax growing more powerful with each passing moment.
"Terzo, I'm going to cum... I'm going to cum!" you cried out.
"Sì, sì, molto bene, cum all over my cock, sorella, make your Papa happy," he encouraged.
You could no longer hold back, and your cries of ecstasy filled the hallway as you climaxed fiercely, your muscles contracting around Terzo's member as you rode the exhilarating wave of orgasmic bliss.
"Yes-yes-yes-yes-yes!" You cried out as your orgasm exploded, a surge of intense pleasure rippling through your body like an electric current.
With a fervent cry of desire, he exclaimed, "Merda... so tight...! I can't-" as he delivered a final powerful thrust, releasing his seed deep within you.
He remained connected to you, still holding himself inside as you both took a moment to recover. Your legs remained tightly wrapped around his waist. You looked into his eyes, and he met your gaze, his face flushed with the intensity of the action.
"You are so beautiful when you come, sorella," he said, his voice filled with emotion.
"Thank you," you replied, your smile tinged with shyness. "I'm glad I could please you."
"You please me by letting me please you," he chuckled as he gently withdrew from you, carefully placing your legs back on the floor. "Would you give me the pleasure of continuing to please you this night, sorella?" he whispered, his voice heavy with desire.
"Very much, Terzo," you replied, your desire mirrored in your eyes as you bit your lower lip. "But what about the Halloween party?"
"They won't even notice I'm not there, as they can't see who is who under the masks," he reassured you with a whisper, before capturing your lips in one more fervent, passionate kiss.
#kinktober#ghost band#ghost bc#the band ghost#ghost the band#papa emeritus x reader#smut#terzo ghost#terzo fanfiction#terzo x reader#terzo smut#papa emeritus iii#papa emeritus 3#papa terzo#papa emeritus smut#papa emeritus terzo#ghost terzo#terzo#papa emeritus iii terzo
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Hell's Edge
Kinktober Week 2 is here!
Pairing: Terzo/female reader
Word Count: 2.9k
Kinktober Prompts: Magic, bondage, wax, biting, edging, toys, worship
cw worthy kinks are in bold, please mind the tags.
As you walk through the intricately carved doors of the office, you're met with an almost palpable aura of power. The dim, golden lighting casts flickering shadows on the dark wood paneling of the walls, imbuing the room with an otherworldly, almost stifling glow. Every inch of this chamber speaks of decadence, from the plush plum wine colored carpet beneath your feet to the rich tapestries depicting dark, esoteric symbols. The air is laden with the scent of incense, intoxicating and heady, drawing you further into the space.
You glance around, taking in the meticulously arranged bookshelves that boast an impressive collection of ancient, leather-bound tomes. At the room's heart is a grand desk, behind which sits the imposing figure of Papa Emeritus the Third. His ebony robes flow around him like a dark river, contrasting sharply against his pale, almost spectral complexion. But it's his eyes that capture you, one of them bone white and seemingly endless, with an intensity that threatens to draw you into its depths.
Without a word, he beckons you closer, his fingers tapping softly against the leather of his opulent office chair. You approach, your heart pounding, each step echoing softly in the vastness of the chamber. Somehow, without fully realizing it, you find yourself seated in that same chair, feeling the cool leather against the back of your legs, encasing you in its luxurious embrace. A small tickling feeling at the back of your mind tells you that Papa has already started Charming you, bending bits of your mind to his will and staying your limbs.
Papa's form leans forward with an intimacy that is both inviting and unnerving, bringing his sculpted face within a breath's distance of your own. The contrasting elements of his visage are utterly captivating – the midnight hues of his meticulous eye makeup, evoking the mysteries of the night, set against the porcelain backdrop of his skin. The contours of his face are finely chiseled, the elegant arch of his brow, the delicate curve of his nose, and the full, decadent plushness of his lips. All else seems to blur and dim, the external world losing its significance. Time feels suspended, and you're enveloped in a moment that consists only of you and this mesmerizing figure before you.
"Have you ever truly pondered," he begins, each word dripping with intent and whispered in a tone that feels like a caress, "the profound essence of Lucifer's sacrifice, Sister?" His two-toned eyes pierce yours, their depths holding promises of sin and wickedness, mysteries asked and simultaneously answered. They pull you in, wrapping around your senses, making the act of looking away an impossibility. "To forsake Heaven, the epitome of eternal paradise, for the profound depths of knowledge, the burning embers of passion, and the raw, unbridled thirst of desire? Lucifer stands as the ultimate iconoclast, tearing down the known to seek the profound, the forbidden, the off-limits, the enticing..."
With each word he utters, it's as though the barriers around your heart and soul are slowly melting away, warmth seeping in, radiating from the deepest parts of your essence outward. You came here with the express interest to fuck him, but you didn’t think his magic would happen this quickly— and he knows, oh, Sathanas does he know. His voice, velvety and rich like liquor spiked chocolate, sends cascades of shivers down the length of your spine, every syllable weaving a tapestry of allure and temptation. Magic tugs lightly at your gut and you slid down the chair slightly, your thighs parting on their own. The room's air grows heady, thick with a charged electricity that you're certain could ignite with but a single spark, setting both of you ablaze.
Leaning even more intimately into your space, you can discern the faintest hint of his scent, a mix of musk and something arcane. The heated cadence of his breath teases your skin, each exhale stirring the fine hairs on your face. "Lucifer's act," he murmurs so softly that you have to strain to catch every word, "wasn't merely a rebellion, si? It was an act of the deepest, most all consuming love. To love something—or someone—so fervently, so ardently, that all else fades, sorella… that you're willing to forsake paradiso? To face damnation? Can you fathom the depths of such a passion, the ferocity of such intensity?" His honeyed voice tilts up and you’re aware that he’s asking you questions, but your senses have long since failed you. “I can.”
His rhetoric washes over you, intoxicating and potent, blurring the lines between the narrative he paints and the electric tension that exists between the two of you. The words he speaks weave around you, entrapping you in a silken snare, making resistance seem both futile and undesirable. Drawn into his orbit, you lean closer, every nuance of his voice, every flicker of emotion in his gaze pulling you deeper into his world. Your breath becomes more pronounced, each exhale a testament to the effect he's having on you. The gap between you narrows, the world outside this intimate bubble seems cold and distant. The warmth he emanates beckons you, his allure undeniable. Like the forbidden fruit in a garden of old, you're drawn to him, the promise of the unknown making your heart race and your desires flare.
But you resist, pulling back ever so slightly.
This dance of temptation is as intoxicating as a fine wine, but you're not ready to surrender just yet. The promise of what's to come, the tantalizing allure of the unknown, holds you in its grip. You want to savor every moment, every stolen glance, every whispered word. Papa seems to sense your hesitation, and a slow, predatory smile spreads across his face. "Patience," he murmurs, leaning back slightly, "is a virtue." The challenge in his eyes is unmistakable, and you feel a thrill of excitement course through you. This is a game, a seductive dance of wills, and you're both playing your parts to perfection.
“Suppose I’m not patient, Papa,” you say, finally finding your voice at last. “What then?” Terzo looks at you again, and the iris of his white eye seems to pulse lightly. You feel yourself standing up, stumbling forward— almost falling. Trying to speak yields nothing, as your vocal chords seem to have dried up in the face of dark magic.
“Then you get what you deserve, tesoro.” Quicker than you believed was possible, Papa reaches behind himself and tugs open a drawer filled with candles and a box of matches. The candles, purple and black, crackle and click as they roll against each other with the motion of the drawer. He searches for one almost absentmindedly, his other hand now laying on the arm of the chair, close to where you grip it tightly. “You believe you deserve it, si? What you came here for?”
“What I-”
“Don’t be coy, Sister.” Papa stands up and flips the candle end over end in the palm of his leather-clad hand. He considers it for a moment before turning back to you. “The habit. Take it off for me, per favore.” Without thinking your hands move to unbutton the starchy garment, clasped at your throat. If you focus through the haze of arousal and incense, you can recognize the faint grasps of magic in the back of your skull.
“Yes, Papa.” The words slip past your lips before you can recall them, tenuous and slithering. The fingers at the back of your brain curl and you stand up with jerking motions— a puppet with loosened strings and rigid joints. Your habit falls to the floor in a neat pile, followed quickly by your bra and panties, each movement preceded by a flick of Papa’s hand.
The power of the papacy on full display, and you, its only witness.
Papa moves forward and sits in the chair, spreading his legs and patting his thigh as he says with a smirk, “Sit, Sister.” Even through the haze of magic you sit down gingerly, aware of your movements on the lap of an aroused man. Enough of your subconscious slips through to allow you to briefly grind your hips against the bulge in his trousers before being stopped by a twitch of a finger, the magical bonds tightening once more.
He sits with you for a moment, his gloved hand stroking your thigh, drawing closer and closer to the seam between your leg and cunt. It’s an almost idle motion, as if it’s something he’s done for years. Papa’s hand disappears for a moment, and you feel his neck moving slightly as he tugs his glove off with his teeth, tossing it onto the desk beside the two of you. As his bare fingers slide across your skin, he whispers in your ear, his teeth mere millimeters away from the sensitive skin of your neck.
“You know these teachings, don’t you? You’ve been here long enough, Sister…?” he trails off, giving you space to provide your name. The magic loosens from around your brain long enough for you to respond before it snaps shut again, taking the opportunity to spread your legs before it does so. “Si, si. You come here not for teachings, I am thinking. You are coming here for the things the others have told you about.” Papa waits a moment before rolling his hips and prompting you to answer with a push of sorcery.
“Yes! Yes, I- I came here for- for you.” The admission sounds lame to your ears, but you can feel Papa moving behind you as he laughs quietly. This was nothing like you expected— this was dangerous.
“Then I shall deliver, si?” Papa’s other hand, still gloved, reaches towards the desk and picks up the candle and box of matches, transferring them to his other hand with ease and striking it with the acrid smell of sulfur. The flame takes to the wick easily and the candle springs alight, casting soft shadows against your naked skin. Papa holds the candle aloft, close enough to your shoulder to feel the slight heat that it gives off. His other hand trails along your thigh, this time passing the crease in your leg and swiping against your mound. “You know that wax seals a deal, mm? Then perhaps we seal a deal as well.”
“A deal?” you echo, your eyes trained only on the flame and the small dribble of wax that’s started to pool on the top of the candle.
“Mm. You tell me the story of Lucifer, si?- and I will not tell my brothers what a little whore you are. This sound like it is an equal trading, hm?” His painted nose comes to rest in the crook of your neck and shoulder, one small piece of raven hair dislodging from his hair gel and falling forward. “Worship on me with this body, and I keep you for myself. You see? This is saving you.” He huffs out a laugh against your skin, briefly warming the spot below his nose. Your hands grip the arms of the chair tighter briefly as you consider your options: obey, or be a toy.
Although the alternative isn’t exactly unwanted, you grit your teeth through the magical shackles and grind your hips down against his swelling cock.
“Good choice, sorella.” Papa’s lips press against the hollow behind your ear briefly, before being replaced by a sweep of his tongue. “The pact is sealed, si?” With that, he tips the candle slightly and allows the wax to spill to your skin, marking a searing trail as it slides down your breast and comes to a halt right before your nipple. “We can do better, can’t we, Sister?” he prompts, waiting for you to nod before tipping the candle again. This time the wax drips perfectly on to your nipple, covering your areola in a quickly hardening purple glob.
“You want me- to worship?” You manage to squirm against his grasp once more, grinding your hips down onto his fully hardened cock. Papa groans underneath you, losing his cool exterior for a moment as the pleasure goes to his head. He collects himself soon enough after gripping the edge of the desk with his free hand, nodding against you and pressing kiss after kiss to the nape of your neck. “Our Father, who-” you cut yourself off as soon as his free hand flies to the apex of your thighs, fingertip pressing hard against your clit.
“Who what, Sister?” he prompts, rolling the little bundle of nerves between his fingers and watching as you fight against the magical bonds that keep you from squirming. Papa takes his hand away and you breathe heavily, watching as he opens the drawer of his desk once again. This time he takes out a small bullet vibrator, flipping it on with a practiced ease.
This won’t be easy.
“Who art in Hell, unhall-OH!” You cut yourself off with a gasp when the vibrator presses against your entrance. Papa has brought the toy to you, pressing it gently against you with varying speeds, not allowing you to get used to the feeling for longer than a second. You continue to stumble through the prayer, slipping up when you feel his teeth bite into your shoulder from behind, no doubt leaving indentations and small purple bruises in their wake.
“Almost there, I am thinking… Your body, it tightens against me. I can feel your heart beat, Sister. It pulses for me, see? And when I do this-” Papa brings the vibrator to your clit, holding it down until the pleasure is overwhelming. “I feel you get close, hm? Mia piccola troietta,” he croons in your ear. “You are liking this.”
“I can’t- I’m close, I-” A frustrated groan slips past your lips when he pulls the vibrator away, soothing kisses peppering your upper back and shoulders. Papa loosens the magical bonds enough for you to squirm on his lap again, breathing heavily and rolling your hips. Damn appearing too desperate, you think, and damn the consequences of begging. “Papa, please. Per favore, si?” The Italian is foreign on your tongue and Papa laughs slightly.
“The Sister wants to cum? Then the Sister will cum.” Papa pushed the vibrator against you again, flicking the power of the small thing to as high as it can go. The machine whines and whirrs against you as your legs kick out, pleasure coursing through your veins like a roller coaster. It builds and builds until it comes to a head, threatening to burst and overflow at any moment. Your nail dig into the arms of the chair as your brace yourself and think there, there, there and then-
And then nothing.
Nothing at all.
You gasp and almost double over at the sudden nothingness, the loss of the vibrating sensation hitting you almost like a gut punch. It takes you a moment to process it and then you’re squirming rolling and rocking your ass against Papa’s lap with the desperation of a woman spurned. You’re so desperate for his touch and the orgasm you were cruelly denied that you don't even notice that the magic has let up, that you can move again. As you inhale to speak, to beg, to plead, he presses the toy against you again, moving it in small circles across your clit as his other arm holds you tightly to him.
“You can cum for me, can’t you, Sister? Can’t you cum like this?” He’s teasing you and you know that, but you can’t help but beg him for more. You babble— mostly to yourself— about how you want to cum for him, want to squirt for him, want to soak the pants he’s wearing with the evidence of your orgasm and your arousal. Papa presses the vibrator harder against you, dipping the tip of it close enough to your entrance to allow it to slip inside of you momentarily and your vision goes black from overstimulation.
All you wanted was a nice fuck, and now you’re strung out on the lap of the most intimidating Papa in the Clergy, spread wide across his legs and struggling to cum from the most frustratingly off-and-on vibrator in the world.
But you wouldn't have it any other way.
As if on cue you finally cum, your thighs trembling and shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. It’s a relief and your heart pounds away in your chest as you crest through the swellings of your orgasm, riding the high and squirming in Papa’s lap. He presses the vibrator against you in waves with your own heartbeat, his movements so perfectly in tune with your body that there’s hardly a question that magic is behind it. Finally the cresting waves of pleasure recede and you’re left gasping and twisting on his laps, having thoroughly soaked his pants as you’d promised.
“See? I told you it is not that hard.” Papa laughs behind you and swats at your inner thigh before shaking his hand off in an exaggerated motion. “Now, you leave my office, and I keep our deal, hm?” You nod and stagger to your feet, groaning when your thigh muscles twinge from the exertion. It only takes you a few seconds to slip your habit and panties back on, scampering out the office door of Papa Emeritus the Third, properly chastised.
💜Remember to Reblog! 💜
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#reader x papa#reader x papa emeritus#the band ghost fanfiction#ghost bc fanfic#papa emeritus#lorraine writes#papa emeritus iii#papa iii#terzo#iii
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Don't you want to be—
(what what what, darling?)
—mirror to some piece of this: moon-slash of his wretchedness, recklessness, fawning fingers pleasure-peaked sharp-tongued wickedness—
(why why why, darling?)
—hair slicked back and smile perfect.
His silks feel like death-robes, his pulpit a coffin, his congregation a stew of want and need. His own needs selfishly curtailed and forgotten. Drowned in skin sticky with sweat and voices biting nothingness in his ear: in his brother's cracked-open wines and the slam of his foot on the gas pedal, fueling life into an engine that screams, a vile communion with the hoarse shattering of his own.
At the cliffside, pomade wind-tussled from his hair, layered instead with salt-grime and smeared tears, he smokes.
His mother's own habit, sourly inherited.
The scent is nostalgic the way celluloid film loses its stain: bitter, half torn, stuffed in the pockets of his mind, nonetheless. The same brand of cheap woody tobacco he smells on her when he's close enough to lay his head on her shoulder.
Not that she offers.
Not that he asks.
The sun is dipping on the horizon: a blood-orange half-moon slurped down by a dead sea.
He ticks his thumb over the paper rolled between his knuckles. Watches the ash flutter like polluted snow to his feet. Through his lungs breathes a soldier's quiver, weighing him down like lead: sighs out black magic, white-eye light, the taste of empty pleasure on his tongue, a throat-trip of rusted ambrosia.
He looks not to the heavens—but to the red-soaked sea, below: to the black gate of Olde, the Beneath, the Beyond: wings of skin, not of feathers, beasts gray and fanged, and violet spellwork unspoken in his hands.
In thirteen months' time, the adopted darling will succeed him. The little copper-haired boy he still sees, sometimes, with both eyes that watery ocean-blue. The child his mother wrapped her arms around, without question. The heir his father, in spirit, will learn to accept—after he's carried out his head on a spit.
Him, the doomed Failure from the start.
Him, the one they've all watched and waited to fall.
He hears reason in the memory of Ghoul's—Omega's—his—otherworldly grumbling: that it is one path of countless.
A curse that this eye can see them, at all.
But he feels sureness in his bones, more than any sureness he's known before.
All their days are numbered.
(and yours?)
The stubbed end of a cigarette rolls between his fingers. Against the points of them: a purple spark. The paper folds upon itself, blackened and writhing: burns and burns in hellfire and ash.
A year, if he's lucky.
A smile twitches on his mouth: paintless and crooked.
And, oh—will he give them a show.
terzo, on premonitions / creator, brother, son
#we are back with the gutting prose hoo man#terzo is giving me some angsty throughts today#prose#writing#ficlet#the band ghost#ghost band fanfic#terzo#papa emeritus iii#papa iii#i'm still trying to figure out what all the lore *could* mean but i LOVE the idea of it having more magic elements to it#and i have so many thoughts on him as the last ''official'' heir to the Bloodline (per Nihil's comments in the chapters)#and all the pressures that potentially came with that#he is very much becoming a 'grew up too fast / stayed reckless for years / saw his status as both a blessing and a curse' figure to me#i just think he's neat
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that recent commission 👁️👁️ we need more mean dom Papa IV in the fandom
I argee. I dont think he has as much of a temper as the others, like when they get mad its genuine even though its controlled and safe. With him, he purposely plays it up. He gets annoyed, hes italian, sometimes he can get loud, but hes a soft guy. He knows that shouting and red hot anger dont always fix things.
He also knows that some of his demons crave it. They need a harsh hand and a striking palm to keep them in place, to make them feel secure, to make them cum. Dew is the one who gets it most, because they have an arrangement. More under the cut cause I have feelings, rated like PG 13. Theres hints of sexual tension but nothing happens, nothing is explicit
After Terzo was…. Removed from his position. Let go, if you will. Afterwards, Dew was so angry all the time. He felt he had no safety to run back to. Other ghouls couldn’t be his rock the way he knew some were tyring. Most ghouls were gone, and the ones that somehow made it were shaken and unsure if theyd be next. Aether couldn’t console him, because Dew couldn’t believe his reassurances. Then Copia was introduced to them as the successor.
This guy? Dew had thought to himself. No way. He was a pushover, a scrub, unfit for the role he was being given. Dew hated him.
When Copia would speak, he’d scoff and avert his eyes. He’d cross his arms, flare himself in a way that still ached at his newly scarred and almost healed gills. He’d take every chance he could to scare and terrorize and bestow cruelty on the Cardinal. If asked, he’d say it was for his own amusement. To anyone with eyes it was clear he was lying.
It was after the second time Dew had barricaded him into the confessional booth during his shift there that Copia had had enough. It wasn’t a simple thing to corner a ghoul, but it wasn’t impossible. Enlisting the help of his still forming ghoul pack, he was able to find himself glaring down the newly turned fire ghoul. He always looked small. Somehow, he had never looked as tiny nor as snake-like than now; backed against the wall with nowhere to run in the cramped supply closet of the rehearsal room.
“Tell me, what slight have I committed?” The cardinal demanded. Of course, as soon as he started, his mouth caught up with the ball of nerves in his stomach and it all unravelled over his tongue. “I cannot recall a single moment! Did I step on your tail without my knowledge? Eat a leftover with your name on it? Is my presence such a hinderance? What would you have me to? Leave?”
“No!” The string of otherworldly curses thrown at him were laced with snarls and hisses, completely falling on deaf ears since Copia could barely translate.
Without thinking, his gloved hand slammed into the space on the wall right next to Dew’s head. Their eyes locked, mismatched brown and white falling down into pools of dark black with only pinpricks of-
Oh. Those pinpricks expanded before his gaze. Deep, heavy dishes looked up at him as bright molten blush. Something had changed, and it had done so very quickly. Like something had clicked into place in Dew’s mind.
Leaning in, he felt the warmth. Dew’s heart pounded in his ears and he swore it was loud enough for the cardinal to hear.
“…Is this what it takes to get you to behave?” Copia murmured.
After a moment of tense silence, Dew shook his head once. Bratty and defiant.
Getting closer, Copia’s lips brushed over golden strands of hair as he spoke into the ghoul’s ear. “More?”
Finally, Dew nodded.
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Thinking about the Papas, songs they've sang, and how they might relate to their ideal kind of romantic relationships.
Primo. There's not really a whole lot on Primo, but from Opus Eponymous, it's reasonable to surmise that he likes his partner evil, otherworldly, and loyal. And he intends to be the same way, for them. He wants to be mesmerized by you, and be wants you to find him equally mesmerizing.
Secondo. More than a couple songs from Secondo's era (I'm a Marionette, as one example) talks about freedom in some form or another. Freedom from God, freedom found with Satan. Satan's own freedom from God. And the freedom to be ones own self. I think that's what he wants in a partner. That's the kind of love he wants. He wants someone whose expectations of him don't make him feel trapped and like he's just playing along. He wants someone who just lets him be himself, his true self. He wants to feel utterly free with them. And he wants that for them, too. He wants his partner to feel free with him. To be able to be their true selves with him. He wants a relationship where he and his partner(s) make each other feel free.
Terzo. The kind of love Terzo wants is described in Cirice (ironic, since it's about a manipulative relationship with a church). Tobias has said that Terzo hates himself a bit..."I know your soul is not tainted"; he wants someone to see him, at his worst, and still be able to love him and say that he's not nearly as bad he thinks he is. "You cannot hide in the darkness."; he wants someone who will not let him hide his true self away, he wants someone who wants to know him. "I can see through the scars inside you".; he wants someone to look past his trauma and self-loathing and whatever walls he puts up, and see him. "I can feel the thunder that's breaking in your heart"; he wants someone to empathize with him. "You and I see eye-to-eye."; he wants someone compatible, of course, someone who sees things the way he does. "From now our merge is eternal."; he absolutely wants a long-lasting love. This is also how he wants to give love, in return. He won't let them hide their true self from him, he wants to know them. He won't let them be down on themselves, he will remind them of their good qualities. He will not be put off by their trauma, and he will empathize with them. He will love them, always.
Copia. What Copia wants, in terms of love, is the kind of love in Life Eternal. Someone who touches his soul, whose heart is full of a story about how much they love him. Someone who wants him forever. He wants a partner who would greet the end of their respective lives with him, hand-in-hand, their mutual love all-encompassing and reassuring. This is also reflects how he himself intends to love someone; he wants to touch their soul, to be so full of love for them, to love them forever. He wants to know that they want him, and he wants them to know that he wants them. Forever.
TL;DR: Be mesmerizing with, and loyal to, Primo. Be free with Secondo. Empathize with and know Terzo. Never stop wanting Copia.
#papa emeritus i#papa emeritus ii#papa emeritus iii#papa emeritus iv#papa emeritus 4#papa emeritus 3#papa emeritus 2#papa emeritus 1
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Terzo x angel GN reader?? You can do fluff or nsfw.. or angst 😊 soo basically its like where young terzo (mid 20s) is walking through the forest trying to relax but he is on guard bcuz he sensed that someone is following him, when the reader let their guards down expecting that he won’t notice them, Terzo suddenly turns around and catches the reader, he then asks them why they were following him then the reader explains smth like “i was sent to spy on you etc etc” because you know… terzo is trying to spread the word of satanism ☺️ tyy (also i am sorry if there is any spelling mistakes, English isn’t my first language 😅)
Well, you could mark today down as the day you stopped putting your name down for overtime. You suppose it was a little optimistic of you to think you might be handed a nice, easy guard shift at the Gates. Instead, you’ve been saddled with a recon job that sees you traipsing through an unidentified forest in Europe following some small-time Cardinal from the local branch of Satanic Church as he winds his way through the trees at a leisurely pace. You sigh. It’s been fifteen minutes and he hasn’t given the slightest indication that he suspects he’s being pursued. That’s poor situational awareness in action.
Still, you suppose, casting your gaze to the treetops, it is quite nice to look upwards for a change. You’ve not had an Earth-side job for a while, and you did have a certain fondness for humans. Maybe not the one in front of you though. Where is he going? Hm. Probably looking for some poor defenceless animal to slaughter for some unholy sacrament. You suppose that’s a typical Satanist activity. Goat rituals and stuff. Seems messy.
Well, he should get a move on because you're starting to get bored. Management might be concerned about the rise in Satanic activity in this little corner of the globe but at present you can’t say you’re particularly overcome with demonic energy. You sigh a bit louder.
The Cardinal stops. You stop. He turns around.
“You are not very sneaky.”
Ah, shit. Your eyes widen in genuine surprise. In your mind you can see the mission briefing that clearly said “DO NOT ENGAGE” and you can also see your boss rubbing his brow in exasperation. Never mind.
“Excuse me?” you say.
The Cardinal takes a step towards you, regarding you with interest.
“I am saying, you are not very sneaky. Why are you following me?”
You meet his gaze and have a proper look at him. If you had to guess you’d place him as mid-twenties, with a handsome face and confident posture. The black robe suits him quite well, if you’re into that sort of thing. One of his black-rimmed eyes is white. Ah. The Mark. So he’s no mere pretender or half-committed preacher. Chosen by the Devil himself.
He furrows his brow, craning his head to take you in. Those who have been truly touched by Lucifer can sense the presence of the celestial, just as from this distance you can feel the faint prickle of an unholy aura emanating from him. The edge of the pit. Black claws reaching for the back of your neck.
“Oh,” he breathes. “You are from upstairs.”
“Took you long enough,” you bristle. You’re sensing a great deal of interest but a distinct lack of awe. If you’re going to botch the job you may as well terrify a mortal, but things aren’t looking particularly good on that front either.
“I wasn’t sure, but-” he’s approaching you, pausing mere steps away, eyes wandering over you- “I can smell the self-righteousness on you.”
You fold your arms. This is not the way this encounter should be progressing.
“You could have the decency to sound a bit awed,” you say. “I want to make sure you know what’s happening here- you’re talking to an angel.”
It’s considered a bit of a faux pas to let on that you’re an otherworldly being in casual conversation with mortals, even those marked by the Devil, but this man’s absolute lack of intimidation is annoying the piss out of you.
“Mm,” he says, still looking you over. “Where are your wings?”
Lord above.
“Considering I’m supposed to be passing as a human, I would be a bit shit at my job if I had my wings out,” you say. Your patience is gone. Now, you could cast off your glamour, do the dramatic wing reveal that’s been frightening mortals the world over since the olden times, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting what he’s asked for.
The Cardinal tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at you.
“Are you allowed to swear?”
You squint at him. “Yes. We’re allowed to swear.”
“Fascinating. Well, it seems you are shit at your job regardless, as I have rumbled you. Why are you following me? Have I caught the attention of someone up on high?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He laughs. “Are you trying to recruit me?”
It’s your turn to scoff. You shake your head. “No, I think you might be a bit too far gone. Sorry.”
“That is a shame. Well…”
Leaning towards you, he fixes you with an inquisitive gaze, white eye boring into yours. “Are you interested in being corrupted?”
The forest around you seems to still as you become increasingly aware of your own heartbeat, birdsong and the breeze dimming to unimportant background instruments. This definitely isn’t supposed to happen. But you feel no pressure from the man in front of you as he awaits your answer, only genuine curiosity. An honest offer. Quite the question to drop on someone, though. Lots to unpack. Yes, yes, being born into a life of celestial servitude to the holy higher-ups wasn’t all it was cracked up to be sometimes. True, it was a bit tiring dispensing righteous justice according to a notoriously inflexible set of parameters with little room for nuance. And yeah, some of the more senior angels were really up themselves. But still, forsaking the Holy Father and throwing your lot in with the Satanists might be a bridge too far.
…To be fair, if you fuck the unholy priest you’re supposed to be watching from a safe distance they’d probably stop giving you recon jobs. Hmm.
You take a moment to gather yourself. “I’ll pass. Thanks for the offer though.”
The Cardinal leans back and shakes his head lightly. “Ah. Thought I had you there.”
“Almost,” you joke. You joke.
“Pity.” With one hand, he sweeps his hair out of his face. It’s an irritatingly confident motion. “Well,” he says, “I am content to let you follow me for a while longer. But don’t watch me from behind for too long, you’ll fall in love.”
He raises his eyebrows suggestively. You’re not going to dignify him with a response. This job was over. Go home and receive your evisceration from your boss. Don’t think about your own hammering heartbeat and the Cardinal’s blazing eyes on you. Are you interested in being corrupted? Are you interested in being corrupted?
At your lack of response, he hums and turns to leave with a wry smile. You watch him go; your arms folded, legs steady, mind racing. He looks back over his shoulder.
"My name is Terzo. If you change your mind, you know where I am, yes? I think a little sin would suit you."
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How do you think the papas would feel about a ballerina s/o? 👀
Interesting! Let's see... 🌸👀
Primo:
As an elder fella who appreciates the arts, he'd enjoy watching every dance. Sometime's he'd politely ask to watch, and sometimes he'd just stop and stare if he stumbled across them during their daily excercise. Even if he tried to distract himself with gardening, he'd be reminded of their graceful movements with every flower he tended to, especially the peonies. Their full petals would always remind him of his S/O's layered tutus. So he'd go and place a single peony as a gift in front of their door every time, smiling to himself, hoping to see them dance again very soon.
Secondo:
Secondo never really cared much for dancing, as his favourite arts had always been literature and music - but that's just on before he had seen his S/O dance for the first time. He had always silently wondered about the origin of their good posture and graceful movements, but one day he spotted them practicing and stretching in the gym hall by chance. His gaze would be tied to their every move, struggling to comprehend how one can look frail as a porcellain doll and still he could see every muscle that was working this beautiful body. However, his favourite part of all is their flexibility, of course. He'd go mental even just imagining all of the possibilities.
Terzo:
He could get lost in watching his S/O dance, or even just them talking about ballet. He'd love them whole, from head to toe, but their ballet skills would just be the cherry on top for him. Terzo would ask them to dance for him on a regular basis, and he would enjoy everything sitting on an armchair, preferably with a glass of red wine in hand. He'd have a custom black ballet attire set made for them - think of Black Swan, but a little more devil-themed. On nights where he'd have maybe three instead of just one glass of wine while watching them, he'd lose himself and just grab them mid dance, letting his desires run free.
Copia:
As an amateur booty-shaker himself, he enjoys dancing very much, but he'd never paid much attention to the fine art behind it. He'd be excited and surprised to learn about his S/O's ballet history and skills. Unsure of whether he should ask them to perform of not, he'd resort to secretly watching them during practice. And he'd be smitten by what he sees. All of his dancing would pale against their otherworldly movements. He'd crave their touch and at the same time be hesitant to touch them, fearing he'd be ruining something. His adoration would only grow from that point on, and sometimes he'd ask them to wear their ballet attire for him, as he appreciated its aesthetic greatly. And maybe, it would even be a little bit of a turn on to him.
#ghost headcanons#ask me#the band ghost#ghost hc#papa emeritus#papa emeritus i#papa emeritus ii#papa emeritus iii#papa emeritus iv#cardinal copia#terzo emeritus#secondo emeritus#primo emeritus#ghost band#ghost band headcanons
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This Vision of my Spirit: Terzo/Papa III x reader
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings: none, just fluff that made me cry
AN: oof my first contribution to Ghost fanfic ever and fanfic in general in a WHILE. This made me cry writing it. I dreamt about this last night so this is literally the transcript of my dream. I miss him sm, blease give him back, Tobias I am begging. Not beta’d, I’m a grammar snob so pls tell me if I missed something! Happy reading uwu
The thunder booms through the abbey, your feet moving quietly down the long halls towards the papal corridor. You’re not supposed to be here, not anymore, not after they took him from you, but this has become your journey on rough nights. Nights when it is too difficult to sleep and you feel suffocated by the purple satin sheets you refuse to store away.
Lightning flashes as you quietly pass the ornate door to Copia’s chambers, startling you briefly before you swiftly move to the opening at the end of the hall. A spiraling stone staircase leads you down to the crypts, where Papas of the past have been laid to rest. The stone, cool against the soles of your feet. Very few members are allowed here, but to be honest, Copia knows you frequent the catacombs under the abbey, he just chooses to ignore it. You’re not causing any damage or making a mess of things so it isn’t that big of a deal to him. He has more responsibility now than ever since ascending the papacy, and prefers to attend to more pressing matters within the clergy.
You pass a large mirror leaned against the wall, probably there for storage until the ghouls find a place for it, and take a glance at your reflection. A nightgown, flowing in black, adorns your body, along with a dark golden shawl with a faded grucifix draped over your head. The lantern you’re holding gives you a soft glow that would otherwise be otherworldly if you were not mere feet from the body of your love and his family. In your other hand, you hold your usual offerings.
You press on.
Their caskets are situated on top of their travel crates. Treating them like luggage, you thought. You’ve nearly begged Copia a few times to at least let them travel in dignity if they have to travel at all. “It is out of my hands, sorella, you know,” he would reply. “I have power, but not that much. You know she runs everything, I apologize.”
You pass Nihil and trail your fingers over the edge of the glass case as you slowly walk by, the tears beginning to well in your eyes as you place a gold coin on the end. You do the same with Primo’s case, tapping the corner once before placing a red rose and moving along. The tears begin to fall as you pass Secondo’s case and you gently leave the cork from your latest emptied bottle of wine, wrapped in delicate vines with a single sprig of mint above his feet on the glass.
Time seems to stop when you finally reach Terzo. The small paper with a wax seal and eight simple words on it feels as if it’s burning your hands.
Always. Forever. To the end of my days.
As soon as you place it at his feet, you fall to your knees, sobs wracking your body as you clutch at the shipment case below. The spray-painted PAPA III at your eye level almost mocking you. Imperator never liked that Terzo had chosen you.
“The leader of this church will not be seen with a… a commoner! No son of mine will muddle the sacred Emeritus bloodline with the likes of YOU,” she yelled, though Terzo had defended you since the beginning, his love outweighing his necessity to obey. He was prepared for any punishment that may follow, whether that be demotion or excommunication. He never expected the worst and that was his downfall.
The memory stung even more the day she had killed him; the day she decided to kill all of them. You knew that the stunt she pulled with the beheading was to spite you. She wanted to throw it in your face that she had won, the bloodline would remain as it was, and you would suffer.
“Why wasn’t it me? Why couldn’t it have been me,” you wept, shawl falling off your shoulders. Your fingers gripped the fabric tight, your breath hitching as your lungs struggled for air amidst the sobs. Your body leans slightly to the side as you finally place the lantern on the floor of the crypt and slump against the crate, cheek pressed against the side. Your heart aches more and more every time you visit, but you know if you stopped, it would surely kill you.
Some time passes as you sit at the foot of Terzo’s case, your sobbing reduced to free-flowing tears that seem to keep coming. A far off clock chimes and you realize it’s 3am and figure you should make your way back to the quarters you once shared with your Papa. You stand and smooth out your clothes, re-draping the shawl over your head and picking up the lantern. Gazing one last time at the lifeless body of someone that once filled every room with raucous laughter, filthy jokes, loud music, and light before you leave because you need to keep remembering him, even if it’s like this. “Until next time, my love,” you whisper.
As you approach the mirror, a slight breeze is sent through the crypt, blowing out your lantern, leaving you with the dim light of the few sconces on the walls to see. You turn back to make sure none of your offerings have blown off their cases when you hear a faint tap tap tap against the stone wall. You figure it’s just something like the building settling, the electricity in the lighting, something normal, and you move on. Passing the mirror, you take a final glance at yourself and you gasp. Down the corridor behind you in the reflection, you think you see a figure and a flash of the white eye that has blessed the men in the Emeritus family.
“I’m sorry Papa, I-“ you whip around to apologize to Copia for being down in the catacombs this late at night but nothing seems to be there. Your breath quickens and you clutch the lantern closer as you look around in the darkness. Your senses are on high alert and the hair on the back of your neck stands on end.
“And I thought you were only ever going to call me Papa, amore,” you hear around you in a distinct voice you never thought you’d hear again. Your heart feels like it’s going to stop as your hands shake and you cautiously turn towards the mirror, calling his name into the stone around you.
“Terzo…?” you say, your voice shaking. This must be a trick of some kind, you think. One of the crueler ghouls must be messing with you as some sort of joke.
But as you face the mirror, he’s there. Behind you. In his paint and his stage regalia, hair combed back like he always had been. His color is muted, but it’s still him. You see a nasty scar across his throat and you turn around fast enough that your shawl flies from you, but he’s gone.
“Ai, my love, back around again.” He adds a slight laugh to the end as you turn back towards the mirror and there he is. Standing behind you with a soft smile on his face.
“H-how is this…” you begin.
Terzo cuts you off and steps closer to you, you think you can feel the heat of him there. “Did you think that the Emeritus men simply die, cara? With all the power we hold gifted by Him? Do not tell me you believed in all of this,” he gestures around him, “but did not think that this was a sign of something far greater, more powerful than simplicities of life and death,’” he points to his blessed eye as it glows briefly.
You must admit, there is a slight fear in your body, adrenaline racing through your system at being able to hear and see him again, but not actually having him there. You’re sure you’ve gone insane and are seeing things when you watch him place his hands on your hips, and you actually feel the heat and pressure of his palms and fingers. His arms snake around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder and you feel him there. You really feel him for the first time in years. You turn your face to look at him, but he’s not there, and so you turn back, still seeing him gazing at you through the reflective surface. You press your hand to the mirror, tears slipping from your eyes again as you take the image of him in, willing yourself to commit the feeling of him to memory in case this never happens again.
“I miss you so much, Terzo…” you sob in his arms. He squeezes you a bit tighter, shushing you right next to your ear and you swear you can feel the air leave his lips.
“We have always said it, my love. Always. Forever. Death can not stop me from being by your side at every turn. My body may have failed but my spirit,” he presses his lips to your head behind your ear in a brief kiss before continuing. “My spirit lingers. I believe He is truly not finished with me. Maybe He senses the power of my love for you, I do not know.”
His smile shocks you, as it is the same one you loved when he was alive. This all feels so real that you comfortably speak with him without moving your eyes from the mirror.
“How does it all feel?” you question as your hands drop to your sides and you lean back into him, actually able to be supported by the air behind you.
“Eh, it’s somewhat the same as before. Although things feel, what is the word I am looking for, muffled? Suppressed? Like I am missing something important for the full picture to be revealed to me, yes? But I can see just as well, and hear the same so I suppose it is not too bad.” His eyes travel down to where his hands rest on your body. “I can still feel you, which is nice.”
At his distracted tone, you raise an eyebrow at him saying “Is this the first time you’ve done this, Terz?”
He looks back up at you and chuckles lightly, “To be fair, yes, I have never been able to actually touch you when I am like this. A great wonder rests in my head as to how this has occurred but I thank our Dark Lord for this blessing nonetheless.” His gaze turns serious and worrisome then. “I do not know how much time I have like this. I do not know anything of this so let me say this now,” he says as he locks his eyes with your own.
“I have loved you since the day we met in the garden. You know this. But I have loved you even beyond the day everything happened. I am forever attached to you, mia dea. Perhaps it was not the Cardinale who came up with the words to that ballad, what is it? Life Eternal? Do you not hear me calling to you from the other side when the nights are grim and the moon is full? Those sensations in your heart when you can not sleep, on nights like these,” the thunder rumbles above as he pauses. “That has always been me, amore. Calling to you as I always have.” He kisses your shoulder, the heat of his lips palpable. “As I always will. Until we are reunited by Him above or below.”
You smile tearfully as he finishes his speech, no sonnet in existence could match it. “I could never stop loving you, Terzo,” you say, sniffling. “Never in a million years. They’d have to kill me.”
He laughs as he squeezes you again and sighs. “Ah, tesoro… how I have missed you. How I long to be with you once again… I will certainly put in a request with His Unholiness for more time like this with you. How it has filled my soul…” he trails off.
You feel the pressure of him start to fade slightly as the clock on the grounds signals the time to be 3:30am. You figure he only has minutes left before this power is taken from him and he reads your thoughts as he always has.
“Tell Copia of this, amore. He will know what to do with the information. He knows, as every Emeritus does, that there are powers and rituals only to be ventured into when you are completely certain. I will find a way to be with you again, mia anima. Trust in our connection to Him. Trust in yours as well.” His color starts to fade and you can see through him now, the once brilliant white and green of his eyes now faltering.
“I love you. So much.” you say, wishing you could stay like this forever.
“Always,” he states, fading even further, his touch now nearly gone.
“Forever,” you reply quietly, watching him fade away and feeling the heat of him disappear completely.
A few more tears fall as you turn away from the mirror to retrieve your shawl. In placing it back on your head, you brave one last glance before you leave, a smile coming to your face as you see the once faded grucifix in full color, just like new.
#my work#terzo emeritus#papa emeritus iii#ghost#the band ghost#terzo x reader#papa emeritus iii x reader#this one HURT a lot#i could easily write a pt 2 to this lmao#dreamscape#it goes under the tag for dream talk bc i literally dreamt this
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WIP whenever
Tagged by: @sucharide and @honeyynymphh thank you ghestie 🫶
This was.. uh a lil sumthin’ sumthin’ I had going on with my oc sister Rika but kinda dropped it cause my brain fried trying to create a full fic 🗿🗿
Their lips on she skin felt like fire. Each kiss leaves a hot trail upon Rika’s skin that makes her body crave a deep plunge into an ice bath. With how the current and former Papa worship her body with each kiss and each feathered touch along her skin, Rika never thought she’d experience this kind of intimacy. Hell, the most she’d get was soft nibbles on her neck and a few kisses. However, with Copia and Terzo.. it was different. Way different than she thought.
As if they were two devotees in a temple worshipping her body; every corner, every curve and imperfect part of her that she disliked was kissed and touched oh so gently and lovingly like some unholy deity.
It was truly an otherworldly feeling.
“Amore.. let us hear you, per favore.” Terzo pleaded softly into Rika’s ear as he softly nibbled her shoulder causing her to let out a breathy moan.
“…bellisima, amore mio.” Copia hummed, thumbs circling gently on Rika’s waist as he praised the sister he placed kisses on. “We are blessed to hear the beautiful sounds you make, sorella.”
Tagging: @vpyre @hallowed-be-thy-username @copiasratty
#don’t mind my writing- i rarely write so shh#but yes this is a scene from one of the ideas i plotted#actually i have more plotted ideas than the written fic 💀💀#tag game
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Il terzo video promozionale dell'anime The Aristocrat's Otherworldly Adventure rivela la sigla d'apertura e il debutto il 2 aprile
Aya Uchida esegue il tema di apertura.
Info:--> https://www.gonagaiworld.com/il-terzo-video-promozionale-dellanime-the-aristocrats-otherworldly-adventure-rivela-la-sigla-dapertura-e-il-debutto-il-2-aprile/?feed_id=349419&_unique_id=64045943893f9
#Anime #LightNovel #TheAristocratsOtherworldlyAdventureServingGodsWhoGoTooFar #Yashu
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Ghost OC Week Day 1 & 2
Hi all!
I'm new to tumblr (also a whole day late for this) and I figured what better way to start my blog than to introduce my OC Cordelia (or Dilly for short). Thanks so much @ghostbcfandomevents for organizing this!
Cordelia is the main character in my new fic Selfish Creatures, feel free to check it out if it fancies you!
Introductions
Full name: Cordelia Nielsen
Who is this character: Cordelia (or Dilly by friends and family) is a half-demon half-otherworldly-being. She works in the ministry with her father Frode Nielsen, who is the resident art conservator and portraitist. She’s an art enthusiast and loves talking to ghosts and picking flowers, you know, all that whimsical jazz. You can find her cleaning paintings in the attic workshops, tending to the gardens with Primo, or lazing about the ministry grounds with Special, Copia, and Terzo.
What do they look like: I can’t draw for shit so please bare with me. Dilly is short. Like even Papa iii towers over her kinda short. While she does work for the ministry she often forgoes the traditional veils and robes that Siblings of Sin usually wear. It’s more practical to wear a crisp shirt and pants when she’s working with solvents and paints than the billowy sleeves of a habit. She has dark brown hair and eyes, and recently with the encouragement of Special ghoul she gave herself a curtain fringe and may be regretting it immensely. She has pointy ears, an angular face, and full face. Everybody says she looks like her mother.
What inspired me to create her: I’ve wanted to write a fic about Ghost since I discovered the band and its lore. And I really wanted it to feel whimsical and a bit dark. I think Cordelia kind of captures those things. A lot of her is based on my own interests (I also cut my bangs recently and I am struggling) and my deep feminine urge to be a witch and prance through a Nordic forest casting spells and vibing with ghosts. I don’t know really, she kind of just showed up.
Connections
Are they related to any canon characters? In my fic Copia grows up in the ministry orphanage but is also raised by Dilly's father, so in a way she views him as her older brother, and they have that relationship dynamic.
Are they in any relationships with Canon characters? Dilly counts Special Ghoul as her best friend. He calls her Dilly-pad, which she absolutely adores. Like I said before, she's very close with Copia. Her relationship with Terzo is a little rocky I would say. They have always been very close, but there's definitely a brick wall between them that gets in the way of them communicating properly. Primo also adores her. She was born during his papacy and always loved the gardens, so you can occasionally catch them pruning herbs together in the greenhouse or planting some flowers come Spring.
She's also currently in a relationship with Omega, and is quite happy about it.
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A big prosey ramble on Terzo, Omega, and messy love, because I haven't been able to get these two out of my head recently.
WC: 1k | Suggestive themes, complicated relationships, existentialism, dysfunctional family dynamics, hurt/comfort
There's a pact one signs, once the Gate has been handed what it's due:
When the old tongue has been spoken, and the dark psalms sung; the Devil's touch fishhooked through a human eye, and its Sight wrenched to nothing, a blinding everything, an All few could endure;
Once the lines of the Undead have marked them: sanctioned them as the Unholy, the Half-Living, the Above and Below: draped them in silks fit for kings and gloves for killers;
A prophecy so ancient one could choke on the dust off its words.
Their fate will devour their Will, like a shark waiting to feed—and chain any of scrap of agency left, like a dog.
Few would dare to deny it.
Terzo, though, has never been one to play by the rules.
Even now—with the Sight of what is yet to come thorned about his mind: every rut and stone he could walk known as well as the blood-bitter sting of his own spite.
It's why he twists crowds around the points of his fingers, for those scant hours of freeness; hunts for lovers' touches in hands his rooms will rarely welcome again; wanders the paths of his own head more than the gravel beneath his feet.
Why the sight of his brother's summoned Unnamed—the First and the Last, the End All-Be All, the One (his One)—had left him stuttering on his heels.
He could see it. Hell beneath, see this:
The two of them, trapped in the maws of a forest fire; in a promised somethingness.
A path veering off course like a runaway train.
A doomed light at the end of a self-made tunnel.
And this—
(Demon-claws at his waist, his shirt shucked to the floor, the chain at his neck clapping to his skin like a noose—)
This is a loophole. Legalese in a contract penned in his own blood. A selfish want fueled by a hunger to be seen, to be known:
To be shoved back wontedly, greedily, in a music room spidered with dying light, and feel the brand of those otherworldly hands on him—thighs and ribs and lungs, dragged through the hair that silks down his stomach, through the beat-beating valley that puffs beside his heart:
To let himself shiver and sigh and roll his head back, bite down the burr behind his teeth, beg—
"Cardinal—"
A voice like Hell itself. The keyboard clanging beneath his hips.
"Come here," he growls back.
They shouldn't be doing this.
He knows the superstitions. Growing up in these halls had spoonfed him with it: the crumbling of the Gate that had nearly been; the fear that even lesser ghouls, under the right circumstances, could usurp the Exalted's power.
It had happened, once before. The Bloodline only had so much demon-magick in it, after all.
This one knows it, too.
"Cardinal."
He doesn't care. He's lightheaded. He's lonely.
The chipped varnish of the piano's edge whines beneath his nails.
"Shh—shh. Not here, eh? Not—ah—not now."
He wants to peel back the point of that silvered mask; to drown in those eyes, blue as the tainted Heavens. Wants to feel his teeth on his neck.
"Not—"
His fingertips stipple over Omega's shirt—and tug.
A switch flipped. A permission devoured.
That clawed hand plummets. Melts his breath to liquid. Sparks an addiction without a goddamned cure.
The first line crossed of countless.
(Countless more, now, and countless still—until Nihil Nihil always Nihil—
Don't think I don't know what you're doing. All the mages can damnwell smell it on you.
Terzo, fox-grinned, steel in his eyes: And?)
And maybe that's all it had started as. All it had ever been.
A middle finger jabbed in the face of their All-Father's millennium-soaked paranoia.
A foolish, spiteful clinging to a promise he'd already stripped from himself.
(If nothing else—even if the world burns—you can still have me. And I can still have you.
I can still have you. Can't I?)
So he'd thought.
Papa, now—and the world's a stage, burning, purple-bleeding-black, a stranger's hands combing through sweat-dampened hair on sheets that don't smell like him, and he shouldn't want it to. Saints, he shouldn't want it to.
But he's tired. His head is spinning. He's lonely.
"Papa?"
He brushes a callused thumb over their temple. "Shh—shh. Not here, mh?" His fingertips glide over the glitter at their back: splay a slow touch between their shoulders. "Not right now," he rumbles, eyes closed. Their hair tickles his mouth. "Not..."
Sometimes, these curious souls press, prod. Try to dig beneath the points of his own mask: to look for the man tucked away in the corner, that doesn't want to speak, to open his eyes from the lull they've found themselves in. Not yet.
This one doesn't.
After a long moment, Terzo sighs: a buoy their body floats on, weighs down like a blanket of sunlight, like lead. "How are you feeling, darling?" The words come lazy and low, tucked into the soft space behind their ear.
The breath he's given in response is boneless, satiated. "Good," they whisper.
He hums. "Good." His thumb skims over their temple, again. "Very good."
Another performance due, soon. Another mass; another ritual. The robes shaken off the floor, the paints reapplied, the stage a handful of moments without deafened expectation.
(Why do you care what he thinks? Omega had snuffed at him once, lounged out like a god in their dressing room.
Terzo hadn't been able to say it, then. Still couldn't, now.
That one day, his father's passive threat of this ghoul's banishment would come to fruition—one day, his reign would fall—one day, the only ones left would be the rat, and Sister, that old, bullish bastard, and he—
Satan. He'd always loved him, hadn't he?
Why do you care?
The doomed light at the end of the tunnel.
He'd twitched a half-painted smile. Looked away. Don't you know?)
"Terzo?"
He blinks. Dredges himself out of the paths of his own mind: focuses instead on the moon-silvered river of this priestess's fringe. Heat is still beaded between them, tacky where their hands shift. There's a trace of perfumed oil on their neck.
He noses further into it, lays down a kiss. "Mnh?"
Their fingers slide unhurriedly through his hair. Weave a gentle knot—and tug.
A switch flipped. A permission devoured.
He lays down another kiss, and another. Their breath melts to liquid beneath his hands. Sparks an addiction without a cure.
"Please," they hush. "Don't leave yet, please—"
His lips catch at the veins that flutter through their throat. His palms lost in the valleys of their waist. "I won't."
The touch of their mouth feels like love, almost. A flicker of soft lashes, bumped noses, lungs haggard and starved.
Their fingers scrape at his shoulders. Cling, and claw, and beg.
Against their lips, he gravels it again. "I won't."
Another line crossed of countless.
#i listened to mitski on repeat and this happened#good afternoon to the terzomega angst#the band ghost#ghost band fanfic#cw: suggestive#papa emeritus iii#papa iii#papa terzo#terzo#omega ghoul#ficlet#prose#writing
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Top Gear Takes An In-Depth Look At The Lamborghini Sian | HotCars
New Post has been published on https://coolcarsnews.com/top-gear-takes-an-in-depth-look-at-the-lamborghini-sian-hotcars/
Top Gear Takes An In-Depth Look At The Lamborghini Sian | HotCars
The Lamborghini Sian is among the most expensive hypercars ever developed and the first from the corporation to feature electrification. In spite of costing upwards of $2. five million, the car is already sold-out. As the new Top Equipment series got underway, Philip Harris was able to get their hands on the car. And on the show's Youtube . com channel , the TG magazine editor was able to obtain a closer look at the Sian plus why it costs a lot money to buy. If it is at stock of course.
[embed]https://youtube.com/watch?v=BXMhd2g-c_w&start=55&feature=oembed[/embed]
Just 63 of these cars may ever be built. That is the coupe mind you, along with 19 roadsters being constructed as well. The numbers are usually significant, a tribute in order to Lamborghini’s founder and the season it was founded, 1963. Beneath the hood is an upgraded Aventador engine, a naturally equiped V12 that produces 785 hp on its own, and then include the super-capacitor power which is an additional 34 hp. Which gives a total of 819 hewlett packard, and it makes it the quickest car Lamborghini has actually created.
RELATED: Lamborghini Sian FKP 37 Appears Otherworldly Sporting Faded Crimson Carbon Doors
The particular supercapacitors can’t hold just as much energy as a normal lithium-ion battery. But , it can cost its power and launch that power much quicker, even though you can’t use that strength for long. But it helps to keep the hybrid system tiny and it weighs just thirty four kilograms. What it also really does, is improve the torque really feel through gear changes in the Aventador single-clutch gearbox, eliminating the annoying lurching sensation. The inside is just as mad as any Lamborghini, such as the fight-jet-inspired launch key with its cover. But the most fascinating elements on the Sian are usually outside, as Jack describes.
The vehicle has taken a lot of design tips from Lamborghini’s of the previous. The headlights have been nicked from the Terzo Millenial idea, but the façade of the vehicle gives a hint to what the particular Aventador's replacement might appear to be. But the Countach is the main inspiration behind the design of the Sian. There are several design cues, such as the hood indent and the V-shape cutout by the windscreen wipers. The greatest is probably the arrow-shaped intake quietly of the car. And across the back, the taillights furthermore pay homage to a Lamborghini that is remembered fondly by many people. Will the Sian supply as long-lasting a heritage? Only time will inform.
Source: Youtube . com
NEXT: These Motorbikes Changed The Entire Industry
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Top Gear Takes An In-Depth Look At The Lamborghini Sian | HotCars
New Post has been published on https://coolcarsnews.com/top-gear-takes-an-in-depth-look-at-the-lamborghini-sian-hotcars/
Top Gear Takes An In-Depth Look At The Lamborghini Sian | HotCars
The Lamborghini Sian is among the most expensive hypercars ever developed and the first from the corporation to feature electrification. In spite of costing upwards of $2. five million, the car is already sold-out. As the new Top Equipment series got underway, Philip Harris was able to get their hands on the car. And on the show's Youtube . com channel , the TG magazine editor was able to obtain a closer look at the Sian plus why it costs a lot money to buy. If it is at stock of course.
[embed]https://youtube.com/watch?v=BXMhd2g-c_w&start=55&feature=oembed[/embed]
Just 63 of these cars may ever be built. That is the coupe mind you, along with 19 roadsters being constructed as well. The numbers are usually significant, a tribute in order to Lamborghini’s founder and the season it was founded, 1963. Beneath the hood is an upgraded Aventador engine, a naturally equiped V12 that produces 785 hp on its own, and then include the super-capacitor power which is an additional 34 hp. Which gives a total of 819 hewlett packard, and it makes it the quickest car Lamborghini has actually created.
RELATED: Lamborghini Sian FKP 37 Appears Otherworldly Sporting Faded Crimson Carbon Doors
The particular supercapacitors can’t hold just as much energy as a normal lithium-ion battery. But , it can cost its power and launch that power much quicker, even though you can’t use that strength for long. But it helps to keep the hybrid system tiny and it weighs just thirty four kilograms. What it also really does, is improve the torque really feel through gear changes in the Aventador single-clutch gearbox, eliminating the annoying lurching sensation. The inside is just as mad as any Lamborghini, such as the fight-jet-inspired launch key with its cover. But the most fascinating elements on the Sian are usually outside, as Jack describes.
The vehicle has taken a lot of design tips from Lamborghini’s of the previous. The headlights have been nicked from the Terzo Millenial idea, but the façade of the vehicle gives a hint to what the particular Aventador's replacement might appear to be. But the Countach is the main inspiration behind the design of the Sian. There are several design cues, such as the hood indent and the V-shape cutout by the windscreen wipers. The greatest is probably the arrow-shaped intake quietly of the car. And across the back, the taillights furthermore pay homage to a Lamborghini that is remembered fondly by many people. Will the Sian supply as long-lasting a heritage? Only time will inform.
Source: Youtube . com
NEXT: These Motorbikes Changed The Entire Industry
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Text
Top Gear Takes An In-Depth Look At The Lamborghini Sian | HotCars
New Post has been published on https://coolcarsnews.com/top-gear-takes-an-in-depth-look-at-the-lamborghini-sian-hotcars/
Top Gear Takes An In-Depth Look At The Lamborghini Sian | HotCars
The Lamborghini Sian is among the most expensive hypercars ever developed and the first from the corporation to feature electrification. In spite of costing upwards of $2. five million, the car is already sold-out. As the new Top Equipment series got underway, Philip Harris was able to get their hands on the car. And on the show's Youtube . com channel , the TG magazine editor was able to obtain a closer look at the Sian plus why it costs a lot money to buy. If it is at stock of course.
[embed]https://youtube.com/watch?v=BXMhd2g-c_w&start=55&feature=oembed[/embed]
Just 63 of these cars may ever be built. That is the coupe mind you, along with 19 roadsters being constructed as well. The numbers are usually significant, a tribute in order to Lamborghini’s founder and the season it was founded, 1963. Beneath the hood is an upgraded Aventador engine, a naturally equiped V12 that produces 785 hp on its own, and then include the super-capacitor power which is an additional 34 hp. Which gives a total of 819 hewlett packard, and it makes it the quickest car Lamborghini has actually created.
RELATED: Lamborghini Sian FKP 37 Appears Otherworldly Sporting Faded Crimson Carbon Doors
The particular supercapacitors can’t hold just as much energy as a normal lithium-ion battery. But , it can cost its power and launch that power much quicker, even though you can’t use that strength for long. But it helps to keep the hybrid system tiny and it weighs just thirty four kilograms. What it also really does, is improve the torque really feel through gear changes in the Aventador single-clutch gearbox, eliminating the annoying lurching sensation. The inside is just as mad as any Lamborghini, such as the fight-jet-inspired launch key with its cover. But the most fascinating elements on the Sian are usually outside, as Jack describes.
The vehicle has taken a lot of design tips from Lamborghini’s of the previous. The headlights have been nicked from the Terzo Millenial idea, but the façade of the vehicle gives a hint to what the particular Aventador's replacement might appear to be. But the Countach is the main inspiration behind the design of the Sian. There are several design cues, such as the hood indent and the V-shape cutout by the windscreen wipers. The greatest is probably the arrow-shaped intake quietly of the car. And across the back, the taillights furthermore pay homage to a Lamborghini that is remembered fondly by many people. Will the Sian supply as long-lasting a heritage? Only time will inform.
Source: Youtube . com
NEXT: These Motorbikes Changed The Entire Industry
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