they need to come up with more words like necrosis and miasma and mausoleum and cadaver and morose and decrepit and stuff like that just so metal bands can expand their vocabulary
hcs for a perpetua who loves to eat out his partner?😳
love you so much pookins
my sweet darling baby, bestie, love of my life. you have no idea the flood gates you have opened by asking me this. :) i love you so much.
i spend way too much time staring at that man's lips for me to not have thought about this intensely.
Perpetua most certainly has an oral fixation. Box eater to the absolute max.
Will go down on you no matter what state you’re in. You’re on your period? A little blood never hurt anyone (this is especially true if we incorporate the popular Creature!V headcanon). You’ve just come home sweaty from the gym, haven’t showered yet? He’s almost even more obsessed with the way you taste, you at your most natural.
He’s a messy eater, and prides himself on it. He loves to see you covered in your own slick, covered in his spit. He also loves the viscous sounds that come from this.
Not necessarily regarding eating you out, but I personally also like to believe he has a bit of an inspection kink. He’ll get between your legs, and he’ll take his time using his fingers to spread you open for him. He loves telling you how pretty your cunt looks, how badly he has to devour it. Watching you squeeze tight around nothing, and then painstakingly slowly inserting a finger or two inside you, watching as you stretch out and loosen up around him. It genuinely makes his mouth water at the sight, eventually having worked himself up enough to finally allow himself to taste you.
He loves to let you use his mouth. Grab a handful of his gorgeous curls, use them as a handle. He’ll stick his tongue out flat for you to grind against. When you use his mouth like he’s just a toy, it makes him especially vocal, with near feral grunts and moans coming from him.
He’s also a fan of tongue fucking. Loooooves to feel you on the inside with his tongue. He wishes there were some way to make it longer.
And multiple orgasm king. Loves to leave you a shaking, trembling, desperate mess. He would gladly let his jaw lock in exchange for feeling you melt over and over again onto his tongue.
One could say that the naming of Ghovie 2, "2 Big to Rig", and the art design of an overhead stage light breaking free of it's rigging in the poster art, is a very loud and obvious apology from Tobias to the international fans that had their Skeletour dates canceled due to concerns involved in transporting the show.
I do think the Ghovie was always planned for, but the cancellation of the Skeletour broke Tobias' heart so much he decided 'fuck it, we apologize' via the ghovie name. One can only imagine what the Ghovie's "working title' was during tour.
hello! remember when i made this poll? well, i'm sharing a little teaser from what i have so far under the cut as a lil treat :3 i hope you enjoy!
The door to your room squeaks on its hinges as you push it open. You don't bother closing it behind you. Surely he's mere seconds away.
Right on cue, he waltzes in with his usual poise, unbothered and seemingly oblivious. It twists the knife in your gut. Especially with the smile he flashes you before speaking. But even through the red you're seeing you notice how… self-assured it seems. Like he knows something you don't.
"Finally, amore, we can be alo-"
"Did you enjoy it?"
His eyes flare open almost imperceptibly.
"Enjoy what?"
He blinks at you. The smile never leaves his face and oh, does it piss you off.
"Your little chat."
"I still don't know what you-"
"Don't make me repeat myself."
And, to your surprise, he stops talking. The smile fades.
Gotcha.
Turning your back to him, you move to sit in the recliner across the room. The floor creaks behind you as Terzo attempts to follow. You swear you've never moved faster in your life as you whip around to face him again.
"Stay there." You point to the ground. "Got it?"
He nods. Too bad that's not good enough.
"Got it?"
There a certain edge, a certain bite to your tone that hits him in the back of the knees. He's just a little bit breathless as he responds.
summary: frater’s stepped out of line and gentle hands aren’t strong enough to set him back on course. luckily, a firm one works just fine.
tags/warnings: angst, frater just wants people to still like him, frater and reader both being kind of fucked up, sub!frater, dom!reader, using sex to process emotions, spanking with a belt, thigh fucking, degradation, premature ejaculation, cum eating, aftercare, he feels better don't worry
word count: 4.3k
a/n: hello! please heed the tags with this, i definitely got a little experimental as i am trying to expand my writing palette particularly with smut. feedback is appreciated! also, if you have submitted a request recently i have seen it and they are in the works so be on the lookout :) enjoy this in the meantime!! mwah :*
reblog and comments are encouraged!
Copia’s promotion (or demotion, in his mind) to Frater has annoyed him, to say the very least.
At his very worst, he upsets himself and quietly weeps about his relinquishing of his Papal title. He grieves in more ways than one, not only for this time in his life that he has to leave behind, but also for his mother. He knows Sister left this position in his hands because she found him the most capable, but it offers no salve to the sting.
And at his very best, he is disgruntled. All ruffled feathers and prickly spines as he grapples with the Papacy being handed to his brother who everyone just seems to adore. It’s all Skeletour this, Perplushie that, V here, there, and everywhere. What does he have that Copia didn’t already? The Cardi hype was real, the IV hype was out of this world, so where is the love for Frater?
He was just jealous. He knew it and you did too. To you, someone who has been with Copia throughout all of these different stages of his career, the changes to his behavior have been noticeable. Maybe not to the common Sibling of Sin or even an administrative member working underneath him, but when you know someone as intimately as you know Copia, it’s not hard to tell that something is amiss.
It started out with the way that he would talk to you and his co-workers. Nothing malicious, nothing berating or belittling, but rather a subtle pompousness. You knew it wasn’t intentional and that he wasn’t singling you out when speaking this way, but it was evident that he was feeling again like he had something to prove. Much like how he felt as Cardinal, but this time as someone who is trying to maintain respect rather than earn it. You worried he was going to preen his feathers until they fell off.
Then came his possessiveness behind closed doors. Under the covers he wouldn’t stop his incessant rambling that you were his and only his, that no one else can have you and that he won’t let you be taken away from him like everything else. After a few nights of being pounded into the mattress while he repeats these mantras over and over, you were starting to form an inkling over what this may be about after all.
-
The rising sun peeked out from the corner of the windowpane and directly into your bleary eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep. Reaching your hand behind yourself you pat the bed to try and feel for the plush of Copia’s body, but your fingers meet nothing but crumpled linens.
Hearing shuffling come from the ensuite bathroom, you roll yourself over as your eyes continue to adjust to the light. It’s after they do that you read the vintage alarm clock on his side of the bed: 6:00 A.M. Two whole hours before he is set to begin working.
“...Copia?” You call out, sitting up and smoothing down your bedhead.
Silence.
With a heavy sigh, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and heave yourself up. It wasn’t like him to leave bed without at least a kiss to your sleeping form, let alone not respond to you when asked for. And why was he up so early?
Determined to finally get an answer out of him, your hand is mid-reach for the bathroom door handle when it opens with enough force to knock you back. He barely meets your eyes as he brushes past you, smoothing down his coat as if he was the one inconvenienced.
“Sorry, amore mio.” He mutters.
All you can do is gawk at him at this point. This is not Copia. You’ve been in love with every version of him, every different iteration of himself, but this? Who exactly was he right now?
He is stopped in front of a large mirror on the wall by the doorway, giving his appearance a once-over when you finally pipe up.
“What are you doing? Where are you going? Your shift doesn’t start until 8.”
His tone is, for the first time, dismissive as he responds. “I’ve been summoned to a meeting with the administration about my performance in my new… position.”
You approach him from behind and move to place a hand on his shoulder but he is already moving toward the door, like he wasn’t even looking at you behind himself in the mirror. His hand is already on the doorknob but you are choosing persistence.
You’re still following him as he now stands in the doorframe, ready to leave. “It couldn’t wait? You should be rest-”
“No, it couldn’t, tesoro. And I am already late.” The door is almost closed when you make out a faint “I will be back in an hour” before it shuts.
Not even a kiss goodbye?
-
Each minute felt like years as you watched the clock with hawk-like attention, eyes flitting to the analog display each time it moved. It was no use trying to pass the time that way, though, and you instead opted for starting your morning routine and indulging in some light reading as you waited for Copia to return. If only you could focus on anything other than how plain ignorant he had just been.
His journey throughout the ranks of the Clergy allowed you to witness a myriad of Copia’s emotions throughout the years you have been together. His steeled determination to show everyone that he was fit to be a Papa when he was still Cardinal, his palpable joy when he ascended, his frenzied nervousness over the possibility of not meeting expectations, and his despair at the loss of his title and mother. You’ve been with him through it all, a constant, a stable force that provides the reassurance and validation he craves. All this time and he’s never treated you like this.
That’s not to say it wasn’t understandable, what with him having a whole new set of responsibilities he must grow accustomed to, but that didn’t make it right. You fell for him because he was him, multi-faceted and sugar-sweet with the stars in his eyes. Not someone who could pretend you didn’t exist at the flip of a switch. You could sympathize with it, sure, but you don’t think he even realizes what he’s doing.
Your thoughts swirl and mangle while you stare blankly at the book in your lap when you hear the door open, signaling your lover’s return. His eyes are shining the same as they always do. He must have gotten good news.
Your suspicions are confirmed when he closes the door behind him and clasps his hands together, moving toward where you still lay on the bed. “Cuore mio, they’re pleased!”
All you can do is stare at him with a neutral expression as he seems to be talking at you rather than to you.
“Maybe this new position isn’t all bad. Maybe- maybe I can still make a name for myself this way, too!”
Returning your gaze to your book, you absentmindedly turn the page. “That’s great, Frater.”
Now this got his attention. Even after taking on the new title you still always called him Copia. A reminder of who he truly is after all the lights go out. It was a calculated move on your part, deciding to dish out just a little of what he’s been serving you lately. If he actually wants to be Frater now, so be it. You knew it wasn’t the appropriate thing to do, but your frustration has clouded your judgement.
“Amore?” His face drops a little bit, as if he is trying to confirm what you said.
You double down. “I’m happy for you, Frater. It sounds like you’re settling in nicely.”
Copia doesn’t respond. His mouth hangs slightly agape, groping at words that struggle to come out.
Your book closes with a dull slap and you set it on your nightstand, taking your time with your movements. You sit to face him with a sigh.
“I don’t appreciate how you treated me this morning.”
His eyes search your face. “What eh…” They search some more. “What do you mean?”
He’s clueless, just as you thought. You don’t want to get petulant and give him a play-by-play of everything he either did or didn’t do so you decide to cut to the chase, eyes downcast.
“I can tell you’re taking your new job very seriously. That’s good. But if I’m not able to be there for you when you need it, when I feel like I’m being pushed away by someone who I only want to pull close… it builds resentment. And I don’t want to resent you. I won’t.”
Copia looks like he is beginning to understand. His hand combs through his hair and scratches at his nape. “I’m sorry, tesoro. It was not my intention. But what is done cannot be undone, I know that.”
His hand comes to rest upon your thigh. “Can I make it up to you?”
Your gaze lifts to meet his own at the proposition, knowing at this point what he is insinuating.
He scoots closer to you, kicking his shoes off and reaching up to cup your face. He presses the first kiss he’s given you all day to your lips and you both sigh into it. More pecks are trailed down your cheek and jaw, moving further down your neck where they become wetter and open-mouthed. It almost feels like him again. Devoted and giving.
You could lose yourself in the attention, finally feeling a semblance of satiation as he lavishes you with what you craved. But there’s something hidden beneath your surface, some part of you that wants to ruin him for what he’s been doing to you. He’s misbehaved. And misbehavior warrants punishment.
He is beginning to hump your leg and you can feel his cock fatten against your thigh, the insatiable little devil, before you curl your fingers around the back of his suit collar and pull him away. A whisper of a whimper escapes him, aching to do what he believes will help you forgive him fully.
“Don’t get too excited.” You push him back by his chest and he sits on his feet. He doesn’t say anything, though, just stares at you expectantly. Like he knows he shouldn’t speak. You glance over at the clock and see that there still are 50 or so minutes before the workday begins. And with how obedient he is being right now, such a rare sight as of late, you know you need to teach him a lesson he won’t forget.
“Take your shirt off.”
His hands fly to his buttons, fumbling over his fingers and making haste. This simply won’t do.
“Slower.”
His breath catches in his throat at the command, it becoming all too real how your roles are reversing in front of his eyes. And he likes it. He’s been submissive for you before but there’s something about the connotations attached to the moment that goes straight to his cock. You’re very serious about this, and he is going to get it. He wants to get it.
His fingers tremble as he unbuttons his shirt, making it all the way to the fourth button before you interject.
“Stop. C’mere.” You beckon him with your finger.
Copia crawls over on his hands and knees and kneels next to you. He already looks so pretty, all pink flush and doe-eyes.
“Show me your chest.”
His eyelids flare open for a second but, again, he obeys. Shyly he tugs open the sides of his dress shirt and bares himself to you, closing his eyes with a hum when he feels your fingers thread through his chest hair.
His delight is cut short when you curl your fingers into the hair and tug, where he yelps in pain and surprise at the sharpness of it all. His back arches and you place your other hand on the back of his neck, pulling his ear to your mouth.
“You’ve been a bad boy, Frater, haven’t you?”
Your hand on his chest moves to pinch and pull at one of his nipples, purposefully overwhelming. All he can do is nod as his mouth dries up.
“Yes, yes. I have been ah-AH! I’m so sorry!”
“Have been what?”
His cock jumps, now straining against his trousers. “A bad…” he lets out a shuddering gasp. “A bad boy.”
A hum of approval rumbles your chest as you move him to his hands and knees, pressing down on the back of his shoulders so that he arches his ass in the air and buries his face in the pillows. He whines a bit in anticipation.
With your hand still pushing on his shoulder blades, you move back to the shell of his ear, your breath just a slight tickle.
“Take off your belt and give it to me.”
He whines again and blindly messes with the buckle, finding the right grip and pulling it out of his pants. You notice his hand tremble as he presents it to you. There’s a pang of worry in your gut. Have you taken this too far? In an effort to soothe, you smooth warm palm down the beautiful arch of his back.
“What’s your color, baby?”
“Green. Please… please keep going.” He begs from where his face is smushed against the pillow.
You fold the belt in half. “Good. Because you need to be taught a lesson.”
“Amore, please, I said I was- oh!” His plea is ignored when your fingers hook into his waistband and pull them down along with his briefs. His bare ass jiggles from the force and it’s hard for you to stifle a moan at the sight. It looks flawless, all clear skin dusted with greying chestnut hair. Unblemished. Begging. Ready.
Even on the time constraint you can’t resist teasing him a little bit, folding the belt in half and bringing the ends together before pulling them apart with force. The slap that results is enough to make him flinch with a quiet little gasp, fists clutching at the bedsheets. You take the tip of the folded belt and run it along each of his cheeks, teasing at his hole and undercarriage before bringing it down on the right side. He squeals.
He tries to scramble to get up but your forearm is stronger than his feigned desperation to escape, pinning him down as you tower over him. A slippery one, he is.
“Oh, c’mon, Frater. I thought you knew better than this.” Three more slaps land in quick succession. You’re not holding back.
His ass is an irritated pink and his hands flail to find you, to try and convince you that he can comply while keeping his rear intact, but you’re feeling merciless. And… a little curious.
With your free hand you tug Copia’s pants down to his knees to reveal his now fully-hardened cock. And it is drooling.
“Oh,” you jeer, nudging against his erection with the belt. “You like this, don’t you?”
If you could only see his face as he hides it in the pillow with an embarrassed sound. He’s anguishing, but he is also so, so aroused. His mind felt like it was falling away from him, his very spirit being eroded bit by bit into whatever you wanted him to be. But he could do that. Anything for you.
Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t realized he didn’t respond until your fist in his hair reminded him. It pulled him backward, painfully so, pushing his aged body toward its limit.
“Answer me.” Another slap, right to his hole.
He cries out, eyes screwing shut when the tears begin to prick. The power behind the spank was enough to send a droplet of pre flinging onto the bed below him, his cock showing neglect.
“Yes! Yes, I do-” he sobs. “Please… touch me!” His eyes are big and wet as he looks up at you.
His body quivers as he cries, arching his back to show you just where he needs you most. You almost feel sorry for him.
You release his head and he nearly collapses, ass burning and cock aching with want. Welts are starting to rise on his cheeks along with blossoms of an angrier, deeper red that will surely turn purple by the evening. Shifting your positions on the bed you push him back and crawl in front of him, nestling into the pillows as he sits on his heels. All he can do is watch as you spread your legs in front of him, pajama shorts leaving little to the imagination.
“Oh, tesoro…” Copia reaches out, eager to please, but his hand is swatted away.
“Nope. Maybe if you turn your act around…” your hand snakes in between your legs, “you can touch. But you- mmh, need to listen to instructions first.” You start rubbing yourself, savoring the way he whines and acquiesces anyway, hands still but cock twitching in interest.
Pulling the crotch of your shorts aside you expose your sex to him, leaking with mutual arousal. You collect some of it on your fingers and hold it in front of his face. His eyes are locked on the way it webs between your index and middle and he swallows thickly. He wants to taste it.
Bringing your hand back down to your crotch you coat yourself in all the mess, moaning softly at the wet, slippery noises that seem to hang in the air. He whines, eyes still locked on where you’re stroking yourself with rapt attention. He wonders if he could do the same. He’ll just move his hand a little bit… slowly…
“Don’t.”
Your stare is almost as sharp as your tone, the command whipping Copia into shape all on its own. He isn’t happy about it, but his hand moves back. Your wish is his command. That doesn’t stop him from whining rather pathetically, though, as his tip continues to leak pre down his shaft. At least it’s some form of contact.
You make him watch as you pleasure yourself, purposefully playing it up to get a rise out of him. “See what you’re missing out on, Frater?” You’re panting now, inching closer to release. “If only you weren’t in need of correction, maybe I’d let you have a taste… maybe even- mmm- let you fuck me.”
Copia’s tears are free-flowing now, and you can’t help but notice how his eye paint remains unsmudged. You’ll have to ask him about the brand later.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I’ll be good for you- please! Let me be good for you.”
He crawls toward you and you let him this time, still acutely aware of how much time is left before his workday starts. He’s hiccupping, trembling as he grabs onto your pajama shirt, cock bobbing as he moves. Right then and there, you see an opportunity and you seize it. The moment he’s close enough and you can feel his tears dripping onto you, you close your thighs around his cock.
“Ah-AH, CAZZO! Amore mio, per favore, ho bisogno di te!” His voice is cracking, raised in pitch. It’s beautiful.
“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” you coo. “But there’s no way out of this, you know that.” You smooth a hand over his hair, comforting. “But I’ll grant you this…”
Copia waits wide-eyed and on bated breath for how you’re going to finish your sentence. Surely you’ve forgiven him by now. Surely you would be more lenient following his punishment…right?
“You may have my thighs.”
Looking down at how his pre continues to drool from his tip onto your skin he mewls, a sad little noise in the back of his throat. He’s so embarrassed but he also needs this, needs to cum so bad that it hurts and your thighs looks so soft and he’s so desperate for anything at this point, any type of friction to-
“Go on, Frater. We don’t have all day.”
His hips rock forward at the order and he winces. He doesn’t know how long he’s going to last, his hyper-sensitive cock being rubbed in all the right places as his hips cant and buck into your soft flesh. His tears have slowed, having been finally granted what he wants but his whimpers have grown tenfold. They’re less ashamed now, switched out for a more wanton cadence brimming with lust. He’s free to do as he pleases now, what he’s set his sights on since you started spanking him.
“Tesoro, I-”
“Say thank you, Frater. Only good boys get to be inside. You’re lucky I’m letting you cum at all.”
This is the last final push Copia needs for his splintered mind to sever completely in half. He breaks, crying out equal parts bliss and agony while his hips stutter.
“THANK YOU! OHH- THANK YOU! AH, AH!” His body seizes.
His cum is warm as it hits your belly, shooting out in thick ropes before petering out into a lazy flow down your thighs. He’s panting, mind absolutely melted into a post-orgasmic haze so powerful it felt dream-like.
“My, my, look at what a mess you’ve made.”
Copia’s eyes are somewhat vacant as he looks between you and his release. Words aren’t coming easily at the moment.
“Well? Clean it up.”
“Scusi?”
“You heard me. Don’t make me ask again.”
When he still doesn’t get the hint you take a fistful of hair at the base of his skull and push his head down so he is face to face with what’s on your belly. He whines pitifully with what little energy he has left and flattens his tongue on your abdomen, looking up at you for approval.
“That’s it, baby, there you go…” You’re starting to drop the act now, knowing that all Copia needs now is a grounding presence to bring him back to reality. Stability would center him. The hand that once tortured him is now encouraging and sweet when you pet his hair. His tongue flicks and he laves over your cum and spit-slicked skin, sloppy but dedicated. He was so sweet your heart could burst at the seams.
Satisfied, you wrap your arms around him and pull him up into your embrace. “Come here, Copia. I’ve got you.”
His lip quivers all over again as he finally hears you say his name again, falling deeper and deeper into you while he comes back down from the clouds.
“You did so well for me, sweetheart.” You press a kiss to his hairline. “I’m so proud of you.”
His nose nuzzles deeper into your neck and he sighs dreamily at the way your hands rub his back. You tilt his head to look up at you.
“Are you okay?”
“Mmm, yes.” This time he looks at you, not through you, eyes shining with gratitude. A comfortable silence falls over you both, slipping out of your roles and back into your own skin. Copia is the first to break it.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, my love, really-”
“No, no, it’s not.”
Your eyes are expectant. Not demanding him to continue, but letting him know that it’s okay to do so.
“I know I haven’t been eh… the most attentive lover recently. You don’t deserve that.” He sucks in a deep breath and sighs. “I am a fool for not realizing it sooner.”
You carefully craft what you want to say next. “I know you’ve had a lot on your shoulders recently. Major life events like the ones you’ve experienced, especially in such quick succession, are enough to change anyone’s behavior. And you’re not immune to that.”
Copia’s eyes drift over to the clock. He has ten minutes until he needs to be out the door. You catch onto the urgency as he peels himself off of you and tucks himself back into his pants. His fingers don’t tremble as he re-buttons his shirt. Clearing his throat, he speaks again.
“That doesn’t change how it made you feel. I… I just want to feel important again, you know? Being Papa… people loved me. I felt admired. Appreciated. It’s no excuse, but-”
You take his belt from the bed and carefully, reverently, pull it back through his belt loops and clasp it at the front.
“You will always be important to me, Copia. Never forget that. You will never, and I mean never need to change yourself to gain my approval. I can’t speak for everyone here, but-”
A pull at your shirt collar cuts through your train of thought and Copia’s lips are on yours. It’s not a bruising kiss, but enough where you can still feel the lingering heat of the scene before. A wet smooch resounds when you break away and you reach up to brush back his tousled hair.
“So many years I have spent eh… being told what to be, having expectations to meet and shoes to fill…”
He walks towards the very same mirror he stood before just a couple hours ago, checking his appearance once again. His eyes couldn’t be torn away from your reflection even if they tried. You place a hand on his shoulder, watching as he smooths down his front. It’s not cocky, the way he checks his appearance. Self-assured, yes, but humble.
“Thank you, vita mia. For helping me. For everything.”
“You’re very welcome, handsome.” He flusters a bit and it’s adorable. There he is.
He looks at the clock once more. Just a few more minutes.
“I must be going now, amore.” He walks to the door. “Dinner tonight? I will make the best carbonara you have ever tasted, fidati di me!”
The door opens and he is halfway out when you grab his wrist. He stays right where he is.
“Just be you, Copia. The rest will fall into place.”
The smile he flashes you summons a swarm of butterflies. Unforgettably and unmistakably him.
As he closes the door, ready to face the day for certain, he never forgets those words. The bruises on his ass are a good reminder, too.
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something a little angsty and a little saucy. reader and perpetua are both separately in relationships and discover that maybe you two are the ones that should be fucking after all
Okay this took me a beat because this concept ran away with me and I devoured it.
💜🌃
Between the incessant thumping of the obnoxious music and the overcrowded club floor, all you could think of was getting out of there. Navigating the throng of sweaty and sloppy drunk clubgoers, you finally made it to the back door, stepping out into the welcoming cool air of the night. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, letting your lungs fill with air not tainted by the smell of cheap cologne and even cheaper drinks. Why the hell would he bring you here? He should have known by now that not only did you despise crappy techno with every fiber of your being, but a nightclub on top of that? Sure it was on top of a high-rise downtown with a notable reputation, but that reputation was in a crowd you cared nothing about. A chill settled into your chest, though not from your change in environment. Had you really wasted four months of your life with a guy that knew next to nothing about you? He couldn’t even make you laugh.
“Needed a break too?”
A sudden voice made you jump, your eyes darting to the corner of the patio where a figure stood in the shadows, arms leaning over the railing. Besides his feet was a silver half-mask, set aside while he didn't feel the pull to conceal himself from the crowds. The first time you'd seen him without it, neither of you seemed to notice he'd forgotten to put it on as he was fully engrossed in the conversation with you. From then on, he didn't bother, something you took to heart as others rarely saw him like this.
“Fuck, I’m glad to see you,” you sighed with relief, walking over to him as your shoulders finally relaxed. “Sorry if I’m yelling, I’m still a little deaf.”
V chuckled, taking a sip of his drink and immediately grimacing.
“Think someone swapped out the tequila for holy water?” you teased, smirking at his reaction.
“Didn’t you hear? The pope made a special stop just to bless the margaritas. Just couldn’t pass up a good spiritus sancti.”
For the first time in too long, you laughed. Actually laughed. And it felt really fucking good. Luckily this was a relatively common occurrence in his presence, but you really hadn’t seen him since you’d both fallen into respective relationships.
“Where's your better half?” You asked after you'd collected yourself.
“Likely still dancing with the horde. For the life of me I don't understand the appeal, but they certainly enjoy it. Yours?”
Biting your lip, you looked down at your feet.
“Inside. Somewhere.”
V let out a quiet hum in contemplation, not pressing the issue further. In truth, you were both likely equally perplexed by each other's choice in partners. You had no idea how he found himself in a relationship with someone who craved such attention, knowing how off-stage he much preferred solitude and this person thrived on anything but. In turn, V seemed to also be curious about your own taste in men as a financier wasn't exactly the wish-fulfillment you'd dreamed of.
As if reading your mind, V turned his back to the skyline, leaning his forearms against the railing and eyeing you skeptically.
“So…” he began, cocking an eyebrow playfully.
Uh oh. You knew where this was headed. There was a certain look all the Emeritus boys got in the eye when something out of pocket was rattling around in their heads. But luckily for you, he knew you were a good sport.
“Sigh,” you huffed, rolling your eyes dramatically. “What is it?”
“Nothing!” V chirped innocently, holding up his palms. “Nothing. I just… he's got great hair.”
At this point he wasn't even trying to be convincing, with a coy grin curling his lips.
“Quite tall too. I bet he can reach all those pesky cobwebs for you.”
This time it was you letting out a sarcastic snort.
“Wouldn't that be nice. I can barely get him to take out the garbage.”
With that comment, the humor seemed to falter from his face for a moment before he reached into his jacket, producing a steel flask. V took a deep swig before holding it out towards you. Tragically, you shook your head.
“He, erm, really doesn't like it when I drink. Besides, I really should go try to find him.”
“He doesn't like- get fucked. And he should be looking for you. Does he even know where you are? You could have absconded into the night or trapped in a basement somewhere.”
“Gee thanks, V.”
“You know what I mean. I wouldn't let you out of my sight in a place like this.”
Once again, you scoffed, relenting and reaching for the flask, taking a triumphant gulp. Fuck that definitely wasn't a watered down margarita. The whiskey burned against your throat, offering a welcome warmth.
“Well I'd never drag you to a place like this in the first place.”
Once again, silence crept in, along with what may have been a dose of melancholy. Truthfully, you'd never considered yourself even in the same realm as him. Sure he was a friend, but the idea of a romantic notion seemed so far-fetched and ludicrous that you'd never even humored the thought.
“At least the view is worth it,” V mused, turning back to face the skyline.
An audible gulp, one impossible to miss, escaped your mouth as you took a step back. Looking over his shoulder, he regarded you with what looked like equal parts concern and confusion.
“Woah, what's this? You okay?”
“No, I mean I'm fine, I just… really don't love heights,” you admitted in a small, pathetic voice.
“I knew about your aversion to bees, but you've been to several rooftop rituals in the past. I never heard you complain.” He seemed borderline offended that you hadn't confided this little detail to him.
“Because you asked me to be there, V.”
He looked at you for a moment before holding out his hand towards you.
“Ten seconds.”
“What?”
“Gimme ten seconds. I'll even let you count.”
“V, what the fuck are you-”
“Look, d’you trust me or not?”
The question truly caught you off-guard but at the same time, you had an immediate answer.
“Of course I do.”
V waggled his fingers at you.
“Then come here.”
With hesitant steps, you took his hand as he gently guided you to the railing. Immediately a rush of vertigo crashed into you as you looked out towards the skyline and you clamped your eyes shut. Slowly, V’s hands took hold of yours, gently pressing your palms to the cool metal as he stood behind you.
“Just give me ten seconds of your fear. I'll talk you through it.”
His voice was calm, collected as he spoke into your ear. Even though your heart was pounding in your chest, threatening to burst through your ribcage, you nodded.
“I'm right here. You can trust me. I'm not gonna let you fall.”
Your back pressed against his chest as his hands rested on either side of yours, the supple leather of his gloves resting against the sides of your hands and caging your body between his own and the railing. Normally, you'd be two seconds away from a panic attack at this point but for some reason there was a stillness settling into your mind as you allowed yourself to open your eyes. Despite the anxieties, you had to admit the view really was quite spectacular.
“Look out at the lights. Every one of those lights is a room. They're all filled with people living their lives in all their mundane glory, all their own escapist fantasies. But here you stand, towering above them like a god.”
Your fingers tightened, white-knuckling around the railing but not in fear. Instead, you were hanging on his every word and the oddly soothing image he was able to conjure.
“Look down.”
Immediately you froze, once again swallowing hard as a buzzing anxiety welled in your chest but slowly, you felt his arm snake around your waist.
“I've got you. Just tip your head forward.”
“I'm scared,” you whispered, so quietly you weren't sure he could even hear you over the city chaos.
“Do you want me to let you go?”
A pause. The racing in your thoughts kicked up again, making you almost woozy. Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you ultimately shook your head.
V’s other hand rested on your shoulder, coaxing you to lean forward just slightly, just enough to see the towering facade of the building leading down to the chasm of streets and cars. The wind tousled your hair, nearly drowning out the usual cacophony the metropolis offered. In fact it was almost… peaceful.
“If anything, anyone, makes you feel small, just remember that you were the one standing here dominating this entire fucking city. And they should count themselves lucky to be in your presence.”
His arm pulled you back slowly, pressing you tightly against him while his thumb stroked against your shoulder. Even more surprising than the fact that you were seventy stories up and somehow hadn't managed to puke was the irrefutable fact that something else was sneaking into your veins. Arousal. Unmistakable, all-encompassing arousal.
“Are you still afraid?”
How the fuck were you supposed to answer that? What the fuck was happening in your brain right now?
“N-no,” you stammered, swallowing hard as you forced yourself to remember to breathe. His hand remained on your shoulder, shifting slightly to rest along your neck. The feeling of leather against your skin gave you an unexpected jolt, and you could have sworn you felt V tense behind you as well.
“I have a confession,” V said quietly.
Oh fuck.
There was clear trepidation in his voice but he leaned in, his mouth hovering beside your ear, the heat radiating from his lips.
“I fucking hate your boyfriend.”
Whatever you were expecting, it certainly wasn't that. Immediately you burst into laughter, with V following suit.
“I mean that guy really, really sucks. You've gotta be with him for his dick, right? Because he's certainly not giving it to you intellectually.”
“You really have no shame, do you, V?” You buried your face in your hands, shaking your head warily. Honestly, if only that were the case. At least it would've given you a viable reason to stick around.
“Christ, so he's not even good in the sack? Why in the hells are you wasting your time with this guy? If you're that desperate for disappointing sex, you coulda called my brother.”
Finally, you turned around, awkwardly shifting yourself to face him, you back not pressed against the railing. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe you were just lightheaded from the altitude, but whatever it was gave you an emboldened rush of brutal candor.
“What I'm desperate for is to get fucked. Properly fucked. Like, forgetting my own name and walking with a limp for a few days. I'm so fucking tired of falling asleep with my vibrator after sitting through another stupid documentary on biohacking bullshit with someone who doesn't even know my favorite color.”
“Midnight blue,” V replied, a little too quickly, a little too confidently. “But only when it has those sparkly flecks of silver in it.”
Really? After everything you'd just said, that's what he latched into? Proof that he paid attention to rudimentary details of basic-
V’s hands reached out, brushing the errant strands away from your face before his fingers traced along your cheekbones. Taking his time, his eyes trailed over your face, carefully examining your features as if looking for a sudden change in your demeanor. Perhaps he had heard what you'd said and was electing to ignore it? Had you truly just embarrassed yourself that badly?
“You trust me?” He asked finally.
“I already told you; of course I do.”
“Then trust me to do this.”
Leaning in, his lips pressed against yours, immediately stealing your breath away. While the kiss was slow, there was a distinct lack of hesitancy, instead he opted to let his mouth explore yours, unhurriedly and measured. Your hands gripped his waist, pulling him closer as you found yourself getting more and more lost as the kiss deepened. V nipped at your bottom lip playfully, his tongue flicking over yours as your mouth fell open, a moan escaping your throat before you even knew it was rising.
The audible proof his effect was having on you bolstered him further and he tangled his fingers in your hair, tipping your head backward as he kissed along your jaw, trailing his tongue to your neck where he sucked roughly at your heated skin. Another moan erupted, a gasping, whining sound that was the culmination of all these things you'd been aching for, every button he somehow already knew exactly how to push.
Forcing himself to detach his moan from your neck with a groan, V brushed his nose against your ear, his breath ragged and strained. You were already a mess, cheeks flushed and lips reddened in a way they hadn't been in years.
“You and I have some obligatory conversations to deliver. But once we're done with them, I'm taking you home.”
Looking up at him, you truly wondered if he meant to stop there, perhaps cautious to move things too quickly. What a fool you were. Just like clockwork, there was that glint again as his fingers tightened in your hair.
“Then when I get you in my bed, you're not leaving until you get everything you've been so desperate for.”
This post is targeted, but genuinely how are you going to complain that ALL of the ghost fandom is bad when the call is coming from inside the house.
Like maybe it's all bad because YOU'RE continuing to surround yourself with the shitty people in this fandom?? By all means I see the flaws in any fandom ESPECIALLY this one but DUDE why do you sit there and hate everything anyone does EVER?
+(( I'd like to add that this person is also in the ghost fandom.)
turnnoffyourmind
origamiaround
gracieabrams
blakekathryn
amandla
discoholicmusic
