NSFW Papa V Perpetua x afab!reader, 4.3k words, sequel to this.
Summary: You and Perpetua, falling hard, finally get the night off you’ve been longing for.
A/N: Finally! This probably could use more edits but I’m calling it good. In the end I couldn’t decide why Perpetua wears a mask in this universe, so feel free to imagine anything you like underneath.
After what passes for breakfast on the tour bus, you text Perpetua: I made the executive decision to upgrade our room.
Oh? Using your powers for evil? (I approve)
Not like a suite-level upgrade, but it would get us a fridge and a microwave, and a slightly nicer bathroom.
Are you implying that we’ll have some cleaning up to do this evening?
I mean, hopefully right? ;) But mainly I’m thinking of dinner. Unless you have any must-try restaurants on your list I think tonight’s a good night for room service.
There is no restaurant even half as enticing as having you all to myself, angel. <3
He actually did the less-than-three heart. You bite your tongue to keep from making any undignified noises—the rest of the crew does not need to know about any of this. In that case, let’s put in an order as soon as we get there, and then once it arrives we’re in for the night. We can wait and eat whenever we get hungry…however late that might be.
I like the way you think. It’s a plan.
***
Upgrade secured, you walk over to the venue, only a few blocks away. You amuse yourself observing the other pedestrians, guessing which of them will be in the crowd tomorrow night. Ghost shirts are an obvious tell, of course, but Doc Martens are almost as likely. Some of them are pacing around the building, scoping out the entrances—either figuring out where to line up at the crack of dawn, or planning to try and catch a glimpse of the band after the show.
Inside, the arena is buzzing with activity as the stage goes up and the backstage is reorganized to the band’s liking. Getting setup done today means everyone can have a leisurely morning tomorrow. You hear snippets of conversation as you weave through the halls, people talking about restaurants to try and tourist attractions to check out.
But your to-do list only has one item, and you find him with his ghouls as they check over their instruments. “Morning, all,” you say.
“Ah, just the person I wanted to see!” Perpetua’s not even trying to hide his smile. You catch glances shared between ghouls—oh, they know. “Will you walk with me back to the green room? There’s a logistical matter I wanted to talk to you about.” Aurora shoots a look at Phantom, neither managing to conceal their glee.
“Of course, Papa.” You fall into step beside him, waiting until you’re a decent distance away to speak and even then keeping your tone professional. “I got your room change confirmed, as requested.”
“Excellent, thank you.”
“Was there anything else you needed for tonight, or the morning? I’ll have a window to do some shopping this afternoon, if you like.”
“I’ll think about it. Here we are.”
He waves you into the green room, and shuts the door. You have a moment to take in cinderblock walls and Ikea couches before he pulls you into a rib-crushing hug. “Fuck, I missed you.”
“Missed you too.” You nuzzle at his neck to breathe him in, and you can’t help it, you have to kiss that spot that worked so well yesterday.
Perpetua flinches. “I’m never living that down, am I?”
“I have to get you back for that recording, that was diabolical.”
“Look who’s talking.” He loosens his grip enough to kiss you properly but you can’t let it go too far, much as you might want to.
You steer him to a couch, sitting close enough to touch but far enough for plausible deniability if you hear someone coming. “So,” you say, “I get off at four.”
“Oh do you now?” You can’t see his eyebrows, but you’re sure they’re raised.
“You’re terrible.” Perpetua sticks his tongue out at you, and oh dear god how can he stick his tongue out that far stop it focus damn it. “My shift ends at four, is the point, so I’ll try to get to your room as soon as possible after.”
“And call time tomorrow is two o’clock, yes?”
“Yeah, so we’ll have very nearly a full day.”
“Finally.” He gives you one of those impish little grins. “You’ll have time to get sick of me.”
“Impossible.” You knock your knee against his. “We’ve been out here together how long? And you’re still my favorite?”
“You’ve never had to room with me though. I could snore.”
“Do you?”
Perpetua’s expression turns a little wistful. “It’s been so long since I’ve had anyone to tell me, I don’t know. Maybe I do, now.”
“Small price to pay, to wake up next to you.”
It might have become a moment, but there’s footsteps in the hallway. You both flinch and move apart until they fade into the distance. Perpetua sighs. “All right. We’ll do our jobs, and then in…five hours and twenty-three minutes, I’m yours.”
“Any requests from out in the world? Supplies or snacks or anything?”
“Hmm… a bowl of M&Ms with all the blue ones taken out.”
“Oh, someone thinks he’s funny.”
“Aren’t I?” He walks with you to the door and kisses you, soft lips drawing you in even as you’re supposed to be leaving. He rests his forehead on yours, the metal of the mask warm from his body heat. “Five hours and twenty one minutes.”
“We’ll make it.” Neither of you move to leave. It strikes you that this is where you’d say ‘I love you’ if this were that kind of thing. Maybe by the end of tour it will be. Instead, you say “Let me know if you need anything, anything at all.”
“I will.” He kisses your hand. “And you do the same, angel.”
***
You text him an hour later. You know the ghouls have us figured out, right?
I’m sure they do, but I’m not going to say anything. I want to see who breaks first.
My money’s on Phantom.
See I’m thinking Dew, he enjoys teasing me.
***
We were both wrong, Perpetua texts midafternoon. Cirrus just threatened me if I treat you poorly.
Aww! Tell her she’s my favorite.
I thought I was your favorite?
You’re absolutely my favorite Papa <3
***
Of course it couldn’t be simple. With just a few minutes to four o’clock three different people had come to you with keycards that didn’t work, and there’d been a trainee at the front desk gamely trying to fix it and taking extra time to double-check every step to make sure he did it exactly right, bless him. Five more minutes became ten became twenty…
But you dealt with it. It’s fine. The cats have all been herded, everyone has a working key, and you’re finally in the elevator, overnight bag in hand and officially off duty until call time tomorrow. Anything else that happens tonight is someone else’s problem. You reach the room, try your key…
…and it doesn’t work.
Nope, fuck that. You knock. “Perpetua?”
“Angel?”
“Could you open the door, please?”
It takes him a moment, but he does, looking slightly flustered. “Hi.”
“Hi.” You slip inside and shut the door quickly, even though there’s no one else in the hall right now. “I don’t have a working key.”
“Oh no! Do you need to go back, or—?”
“Absolutely not, if you’re cool with it I’ll just be stuck in here with you.”
“I don’t mind one bit.” He pulls you in for a hug, and you can’t help but wilt against his chest, just a little. “You okay, honey?”
“I’m fine, sorry. Just decompressing.”
Perpetua hums, rubs your back. “C’mere and relax, we’ve got a nice chaise.”
Even nicer than the chaise, though, is snuggling with Perpetua. He pulls you to lay on top of him, your head nestled against his chest, your hips cradled by his thighs. The stresses of the afternoon slowly melt away in his gentle warmth. He even smells delicious, something rich and sweet that’s settled into his skin. Even with a compelling plan for the evening, part of you thinks you could stay just like this for… longer than you want to let yourself think about.
You trace your fingertips over the well-worn cotton of his shirt, outlining the logo of some death metal band with a near-unreadable name. And if you happen to trace over anything sensitive, well, who could blame you? On your second pass over his nipple Perpetua chuckles, and drags a finger slowly up the back of your neck, making you shiver. “Two can play at that, angel.”
“Okay, you win,” you murmur.
“I think we both win.” His eyes are shadowed by the mask, but you still see the fondness in them. “Shall we get that dinner order in?”
“Right. Dinner. That’s a thing we’ll want.”
That finger is still tracing along your neck, the nail dragging a tingle across your skin. “Or I guess dessert, for me. Since I’m having you for dinner.”
“Smooth.”
He grins. “I try.”
You search the room but there’s no menu, it’s only in the hotel’s app. Perpetua grumbles about digital-only nonsense until you get him back on the chaise, sitting between his legs with your back to his chest. You scroll through the menu, picking out a few appetizers and, at his insistence, chocolate-covered strawberries. “Do they have champagne?” he asks.
“I mean, yeah, but which limb do you want to sacrifice for it?”
“What’s rock star money for, huh?” He holds you closer, hands splaying over your belly. The tension in the room tightens like winding a guitar string a little too far. Perpetua kisses the spot just under your ear. “Let me spoil you a little.”
“Right.” With slightly shaky fingers, you add it to the order. “You get to explain it to Frater when it comes up on the expense report, though.” You set the order time to ASAP; the confirmation email gives a thirty minute estimate. “So. We need to stay presentable for another half hour at least.”
“I have faith in us.” He takes your phone, sets it face-down on the table, and pulls you to lay back against him. You feel the edge of the mask at the top of your head, where he leans his face against you. His hands are smoothing over your torso, fingertips just barely catching beneath the waistband of your jeans.
Perpetua nestles his hand between your legs, thumb resting in the crease where thigh meets hip, fingers gently rubbing over your center. “Every night I’ve thought about this,” he says softly. “Having you in my arms, giving you every pleasure I can.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He presses a little more firmly, rubbing his middle finger up and down the seam of your jeans. “The number of times I’ve come from the thought of making you come… can’t remember the last time I came without thinking of you, actually.”
Your whole body feels warmer, heat radiating from his hand. “Way ahead of me. I can’t even remember the last time I came, period.”
“Honey!” He sounds truly shocked. “Really?”
“Dude, I’ve been on a bus or sharing a room this whole time, there’s been no chance.”
“I thought those pre-show kisses might’ve sparked something.”
“Oh, there’s always been sparks, just nowhere to let them catch.”
“Not even a dressing room?”
You snort. “I have some standards, sir.”
“Clearly not, if you’re cavorting about with me.” His free hand slips under your shirt. For a moment you just breathe, let his touch settle into your skin. “We’ve got a lot to make up for tonight, haven’t we?”
“I mean… not to say I haven’t had those thoughts about you.” It seemed easier to say things over text last night, but having him right here makes the words come slower. “All those nights, alone in my bunk… I imagined things. Even if I couldn’t follow through.”
“What did you imagine?” Perpetua nuzzles against your head—as much as he can while wearing the mask, at least. “Last night, what did you think about?”
“I tried to picture you. I listened to that recording so many times, just thinking of…” Of the hands that are on your body now, when they were on his body. Did he treat himself roughly, or was he as gentle as he’s being with you?
You tell each other around kisses and touches, moving to the bed when the chaise proves insufficient. He was gentle with himself, he says—just like he imagined you would be. And you tell him how you imagined him, imagined his hands following the path yours are now, down the center of his body. Want simmers in every kiss, but you can’t let it boil over, not yet
When the knock comes at the door, you’re almost too wobbly to stand, and every step makes your jeans rub painfully. But you open the door and get the food, noting a couple of people in familiar shirts walking down the hall.
“We’ll have to be careful,” you say, once the door is safely locked. “There’s fans about.”
“We’ll be fine. I don’t plan to leave this room until tomorrow.” He gets up to help you wedge all the cartons in the tiny fridge, as if he wasn’t just taking you apart.
“Not even if I told you I found an all-night cookie place down the street?” you tease.
“Oh shit, really?” Perpetua contemplates for a moment. “If they deliver, I might consider opening the door. But otherwise…”
The shift in atmosphere is instant. He pulls you close and slides his hands around your waist. “I owe you,” he says, “the best night I can possibly give you.”
“I wouldn’t say owe—“
“But I would. Since yesterday you’ve given me two of the best orgasms I’ve had in fucking years, and I haven’t even gotten to give you one. So yeah, I owe you.”
For all that he’s talked about being out of practice, it doesn’t take long for him to get you on the bed and stripped down to nothing. He turns around to undress, shaking his ass when you wolf whistle at him, carefully making sure his mask is in place before he moves on top of you to kiss you again. The weight of him settles against your hips and it feels so right—but then he’s moving down, trailing kisses over your breasts and belly. “May I?”
“By all means.”
He parts your legs as gently as if he were opening a priceless book. “Fucking hell…”
“Not disappointing, I hope?”
“Angel.” He strokes your inner thighs, eyes darting around as if he can’t decide where to look. But then he leans in, gently spreading you open with his thumbs, and lets his eyes slip closed as he kisses your clit.
It’s the softest, wettest, slowest kiss you could have imagined. Perpetua whimpers, squirming to settle more comfortably between your legs like he really plans to stay there all night, never breaking the seal between his lips and your body. He rests his arms on your belly, fingers absentmindedly sweeping back and forth. Time starts feeling molten again—you couldn’t say if one minute passes, or ten.
He seems to know when you’re close, slipping his fingers inside before you can ask and leaving them there for you to squeeze against. He sucks just a little harder, until you gasp and tense and then he stays still, tongue flat against you so you can find the pressure that you need. “Oh my fucking god,” you pant.
He hums happily, finally releasing you. “I certainly hope to be.” He winks, and when it takes you a moment to process that and swat at his arm he smiles so brightly you can’t help but smile back.
“What do you think, had enough of the all-you-can-eat buffet?”
“Never.” He slides his fingers as deep as he can. You clench around them reflexively, feeling every bit of empty space as he gently drags them back out. “Mind if I go back for seconds?”
“Oh fuck, please.”
He studies you a moment. “Lay back and relax,” he says, softly. “And close your eyes?” Something in the way he’s looking at you makes it impossible to deny him. There’s a rustle as Perpetua re-situates himself. “I want you to just feel me, angel,” he says, his breath tickling your skin. “Feel how much I want you.”
It’s completely different from the first time. Now he traces patterns with the tip of his tongue, moving down to lick and suck at your folds, further down to dip his tongue inside, moaning at the taste of you. He presses his whole face into you, nose rubbing against your clit while his tongue works further down, and—
He’s not wearing his mask.
Your eyes fly open when you realize, but you’re looking at the ceiling. You quickly shut your eyes again—you’re not going to look, you can’t betray his trust like that. But you reach down, and when you touch the top of his head he takes your hand and holds it to his hair. He hums against you, telling you it’s okay without words.
It’s almost enough to distract from his fucking amazing tongue, but not entirely. You tangle your fingers in his curls (you can tangle your fingers in his curls there’s no mask strap holding them down) and try to just relax into it, let yourself lie open to him and let him feast.
Fuck I can’t wait to get you all over my face, he'd said last night. You’d considered it a figure of speech, but he really means it. He rubs against you, using his cheeks and nose and chin almost as much as lips and tongue. Even his sideburns are going to be soaked, at this rate.
“Perpetua!” you moan, though you try to keep your voice down—there’s no telling who might be walking by in the hall. He hums, clearly pleased. “Please—oh fuck—you feel so good!” With your eyes closed all the obscenely wet sounds seem even louder. “Please,” you whisper. It doesn’t feel like begging, it feels like a prayer. “Please, I’m so close, please I need you—”
Perpetua growls. A little harder, a little faster, it’s too much and not enough and this must be what hellfire feels like—
The tension snaps. Pleasure ricochets through your body, radiating from Perpetua’s damnably perfect mouth. You bite your lips closed, muffling the cry that wants to escape. You need him, more of him—but the sensation burns through you, leaving you limp.
Perpetua presses his face into your thigh. When you open your eyes all you can see of him is a mop of dark curls. The mask that you’ve come to know as the top of his face lies abandoned on the bed, closer to your hand than his. “Sweetheart?” He takes a deep breath. “Want me to hand you the—?”
He lifts his head and looks you in the eye. For a moment your gut twists in reflexive panic—there’s a stranger between your legs.
But the longer you look at him, the more he starts to look like himself. This is really Perpetua—panting, face red, lips shining with your slick. You gently trace your fingers over his forehead, down his cheek. You’re not sure your voice will work, but you speak anyway: “Hi, beautiful.”
“Look who’s talking.” He kisses your hand, and leans his cheek against your palm.
For a moment, you just look at each other. He has such a piercing gaze—you’ve seen the fans talk about it online, of course, but even the most intense ritual couldn’t possibly match the way he’s looking at you now. It’s like he can see right into your soul.
It takes a moment to realize that he’s asked how you want to do this, that he’s plowing ahead with the evening and emotions about what the fuck just happened will have to wait. “I think…like this.”
“You sure? If you want to be on top…”
“Second round, maybe. Honestly, I don’t think I could move right now.”
Perpetua moves to loom over you, and you feel the head of his cock brush against you. “Like this?”
“Yes, please.” You tilt your hips, catching him at your entrance, and you both flinch. “You good?”
He groans in response, slowly rubs back and forth, barely even dipping in. “You’re so soft, fuck I didn’t even dream it this good.” He finally pushes inside, rocking deeper and deeper with every breath. “Satanas preserve me…”
With every little thrust he’s mapping you out, adjusting his angle to make sure he doesn’t hit anything he’s not supposed to. When he finally slides all the way in you can feel him pressing into something deep, only heightened by the way his hips press yours into the mattress. “That’s perfect, Pet.” You squirm to try and take him that little bit deeper, just a little more pressure. “Fuck, sweetheart…”
“I’m tryin’.” He gives you one of those sweet little grins that makes your heart ache. “I’m not sure how long I’ve got in me. Pun not intended.”
“I’ll take all of it, pun fully intended.”
He laughs breathlessly. “It’s all yours honey, every inch.”
And then he’s kissing you as he rolls his hips, just like you’ve seen him do on stage dozens of times now, and it feels even better than it looks. Every thrust hits that deep place inside, the intensity making you break away to gasp. “Right there?” He tries again, a little harder, pressing just so. “That’s the spot, huh?”
“Perpetua.” You want to say more than his name, but you can’t—it’s too much.
“Where else?” He pulls back a little, shifting until he’s thrusting into your g-spot and you’re grabbing at his shoulders. “How’s that, better?”
“Please!” You try to move with him, but it’s not quite enough. “However you want, I just want you, need you—”
“You have me.” He thrusts deep, and you could almost cry you feel so full. “I’ll give you everything. Anything.”
Maybe it’s just been that long, maybe you’re just that horny, maybe he’s got a gift from Below—or maybe Perpetua really is that good. Whatever it is, the feeling of him inside you is overwhelming. He’s going to have marks down his back from how hard you’re clinging to him, but if you don’t hold on you feel like you’ll fall apart.
“Yes, that’s it.” He presses his forehead to yours—for real this time, skin on skin. “All yours, angel, take all you need.”
You can’t help it, you cry out his name when you come. And then you’re hiding your face against the pillow, trying not to make a sound as he keeps thrusting. “Almost there, fuck—” He moans, and you feel his cock throb as he spills inside you.
You wrap arms and legs around him, squeezing him as tight as you can, trying to keep him close. “Sweetheart…” He makes a wordless sound, and buries his face in your neck.
Slowly, the sensations recede enough to think, at least a little. Perpetua’s clinging to you as tightly as you are to him, rubbing his face against your skin. Should you say something? Should you not? What can you even say?
Perpetua beats you to it. “How’re you feeling, honey?”
“Like… like I could fly. How do you feel?”
He kisses your cheeks, your nose, and then your lips. For a while you think that’s his answer, as you melt into one of the best kisses you’ve ever had. But then he pulls back, just enough to look into your eyes. “I feel… the best I’ve felt in a long time.”
***
If you had ever imagined what it might be like to spend a night with a rock star, it wasn’t this—sitting naked in bed, sharing overpriced fancy ravioli for dessert (the chocolate-covered strawberries were dinner, of course) and finishing off a bottle of champagne while watching reruns of Antiques Roadshow. And yet, it’s perfect.
“You know,” says Perpetua between episodes, “when you knocked on the door, I had already taken my mask off.”
You almost choke on a mouthful of champagne. “Beg pardon?”
“Before you got here.” He looks at you—he looks so natural now, bare-faced. “I had it all planned in my head, I was gonna be standing by the window waiting for you, and I left the mask on the bedside table, so once you came in there’d be no putting it back on without you seeing me.”
“Honey.” You pet his hair, still marveling at how much fluffier it is without the mask holding it down. “I told you I didn’t want you to brute force it.”
“I know.” He catches your hand, and kisses it. “That’s why I knew I was safe with you. But when you couldn’t open the door, I couldn’t face the hallway without it.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” You set your glass down, and lean in to smother him in little kisses.
Perpetua nuzzles your cheek. He seems lighter, like a layer of tension you hadn’t even realized was there has vanished. “Hey, it worked out. I think this was the better method, don’t you?”
“If you’re fishing for compliments on your technique—you know what, I can’t even joke, that was amazing.”
“I wasn’t, but thank you. You’re no slouch either, you know.”
“And I didn’t even break out the really good tricks.”
He shivers. “Might have to save that for a night after a ritual.” You’re both quiet for a minute. You haven’t planned more than a few days ahead for any of this—you can’t. And yet…
Perpetua clears his throat. “I… there’s no pressure, angel, but you know, if you wanted to stay with me on the band bus, I think the ghouls would be very accommodating.”
“Papa!” The use of his title makes him blush. “Are you asking me to move in with you before we've even spent the night together?”
“Well… shit, I suppose I am.”
You lean your head on his shoulder. “If you still like me that much by morning, then yes.”
***
Perpetua does snore, as it turns out. But not loudly enough that you feel the need to tell him about it. It’s kind of cute.
(…oh dear sweet Lucifer you think this man’s snoring is cute, you really are doomed.)
Perpetua wearing a strap under his clothes but he's also wearing his tight as fuck pants so you can see the harness of the strap around his hips and thighs through the fabric.
Summary: Perpetua always takes care of you, even if that means a quick moment under the stage.
A/N: The surest way for a fic to appear out of nothing is for me to say I'm definitely going to finish another one. Also, I love that with what, five seconds of footage, we now have a whole new setting for smut.
It’s not like there’s ever a time when you’re not attracted to Perpetua, but just now you could climb him like a tree. Bang him like a screen door in a hurricane. Any and all colorful metaphors you could come up with, you’d carry out—if you could only get him alone.
But no, it’s a rehearsal day. The whole stage is set up, the band is running through the show to make sure all the effects are timed correctly. You’re hanging out under the stage where you’ll be during the rituals to help Perpetua with mask changes and makeup touch-ups. You’re getting paid to sit here and listen to your lover sing—it’s a perfect job.
And yet. Your body does not understand things like working hours and delayed gratification. And so you’re sitting here, crossing and re-crossing your legs and unable to do a damn thing about the ever-worsening feeling between them. It’s a persistent ache, a need to be touched and filled and taken.
But you have to stay here. You have to be good. You’re going to go mad.
A clatter on the stairs signals Perpetua’s arrival. “How’d we sound?” he asks.
“Fantastic.” You weren’t listening that closely, but they always do. You can’t resist looking him up and down—he’s in costume, the sinfully tight pants and silky black shirt, even though he’s not messing with the jacket changes today. The way his thighs look in those pants…
“Honey?” Perpetua tilts his head at you. “You okay?”
“Sorry!” You spring up and move towards the dressing table, before realizing that he doesn’t need anything from you. Devil Church is playing overhead, and without the jacket change that’s an easy enough switch. They’ll be running through it at least twice, to let the lighting crew practice, so there’s even less rush than usual. “I’m fine!”
Perpetua catches you around the waist, and you can’t help but melt a little under his warm hands. “You sure?”
“I’m fine, love, really.” You get your hands on his waist, all that energy thrumming through him, and hope he doesn’t notice your shaky sigh.
“You just seem a bit…” He tilts his head again. “Hmm. Needy?”
Oh fuck him for noticing. Fuck him even more for grinning when you whimper. “I…”
“Darling.” He pulls you deeper into the dark of the under-stage where you won’t be visible to anyone looking down the steps. Yes, good, your body says, let him put you where he wants. You try to hold yourself together, muscles tight, posture straight, but Perpetua’s hands are eroding your control. “What’s the matter, huh?”
“We’re at work, Pet,” you whisper.
“So?” Upstairs, Devil Church stops halfway through—something’s gone wrong with the lights, they’ll have to reset and try again. “You know that won’t stop me if you need me.”
You need him. You need him so badly. But you can’t admit how, not here, not when you only have minutes. He reads your silence for exactly what it is and moves in a little closer, thumbs stroking your sides, lips brushing against your ear. “You do need me, don’t you? If I get my hand between your legs you’re going to be dripping for me, aren’t you?”
“Pet!”
“Am I wrong?” One hand teases at your hip, toying with the waistband of your pants. “Poor thing, so empty.” You close your eyes, not even trying to hold back the whimper this time. Overhead, more noises—it’ll be at least five minutes before they can try the rig again.
Perpetua tugs one glove off and tosses it to the dressing table. “I can’t fill you properly,” he says, apologetic, “but I’m not going to neglect you.” Those fingers rest against your skin for a moment, gentle as can be. “Let me in, darling.” He slides his hand down and you can hear the slick sounds as fingers meet folds. “So wet—have you felt like this all day?”
“…yeah.”
He clicks his tongue. “Poor thing.” His sincere concern is almost worse than teasing would be. “You lean on me, honey, hide your face in my neck, that’s right…”
He pulls you in close, slips his fingers inside and you have to press your mouth against his throat to stop yourself from screaming. It’s so fucking good, those perfect fingers finally pressing where you need him, but it’s still not enough, not anywhere close. When he starts rubbing his thumb against your clit, you think you might cry.
“I know honey, I know,” he coos. “You feel so tight around my fingers, it’s a wonder you ever take my cock. Your body’s wound itself so tight to try and make anything feel like enough… but this isn’t, is it?”
You whine, and he hugs you a little tighter. “I know it isn’t. I wish I could give it to you right now, I really do. He curls his fingers, pressing in half-time with the tempo of his thumb. “Tonight, when we get home… darling, I’ll give you everything.”
“Perpetua!”
“Shh love, I’ve got you, hang onto me.”
When you come, you clench so hard it almost hurts. You whine into Perpetua’s shoulder, fingers digging into his back so much you’re afraid your nails will snag his shirt. Upstairs, they’ve finally started to run through Devil Church again.
Perpetua’s gentle as he pulls out, holding his fingers up to the light so you can see the shine on them. “Fuck,” you whisper. “I don’t know whether to say ‘thank you’ or ‘fuck you.’”
“Thank me now, fuck me later?”
“Sounds like a plan.” You cup him, finding him as erect as these pants will let him get. “Gonna go out there like this?”
“Why not? May as well practice,” he says with a grin. Someone calls down the stairs—they’re almost ready to move on to Cirice. “Be right there!” he calls back, before turning to the dressing table to retrieve his glove.
“Pet, hang on, I’ve got—” Before you can offer a towel, he pulls the glove on over his wet fingers. “Are you serious?”
“Of course.” He wiggles his fingers at you. “Now I’ll have a little bit of you with me whenever I wear these.” He quickly puts on his glittering mask, blows you a kiss and bounds back up the stairs.
I know Tumblr is full of posts about the virtues of commenting on AO3 fics and such. But like. It works.
I just knocked out 8.5k words in one single day for a chapter update because of one reader leaving one of the most absurdly endearing comments I’ve ever gotten. That is unheard of levels of productivity for me.
The power of the fandom. The power of the comment.
Hey ghost fans who write creature!perpetua smut - I have something cursed to show you, courtesy of my friend with a biology degree
(apparently one of his lecturers COLLECTS them??)
he told me about this and I remembered how often V gets compared to a bat, and... anyway i don't write smut but I'm sure you guys can create something horrendous with this so
anyway tracing your fingers through perpetuas slick folds as he moans softly, completely drunk on pleasure. his whimpering turns into a breathy moan as you slide your fingers back into his welcoming hole. velvet walls clench around you as you slowly continue to work him towards another peak. all too soon his thighs start to tremble and he gushes more slick onto you. removing your digits from him, you coo about how well he did for you.
half lidded eyes stare back at you as you bend over him to paint his lips with his release. here love, you tell him, as his tongue darts out to lick you clean. unable to wait any longer, your hand slides into his hair to yank his head back and you finally get to taste his love for you on his tongue.
Remember this? Here’s a little taste of Perpetua and his angel at the venue the next day as they plan their evening. The draft is currently at 4.1k words 🫣. I’m going to try to finish it this week (and I’m putting that in writing so I have to make an honest attempt).
You steer him to a couch, sitting close enough to touch but far enough for plausible deniability if you hear someone coming. “So,” you say, “I get off at four.”
“Oh do you now?” You can’t see his eyebrows, but you’re sure they’re raised.
“You’re terrible.” Perpetua sticks his tongue out at you (oh dear god how can he stick his tongue out that far stop it focus damn it). “My shift ends at four, is the point, so I’ll try to get to your room as soon as possible after.”
“And call time tomorrow is two o’clock, yes?”
“Yeah, so we’ll have very nearly a full day.”
“Finally.” He gives you one of those impish little grins. “You’ll have time to get sick of me.”
“Impossible.” You knock your knee against his. “We’ve been out here together how long? And you’re still my favorite?”
“You’ve never had to room with me though. I could snore.”
“Do you?”
Perpetua’s expression turns a little wistful. “It’s been so long since I’ve had anyone to tell me, I don’t know. Maybe I do, now.”
“Small price to pay, to wake up next to you.”
It might have become a moment, but there’s footsteps in the hallway. You both flinch and move apart until they move past the green room. Perpetua sighs. “All right. We’ll do our jobs, and then in…five hours and twenty-three minutes, I’m yours.”
“Any requests from out in the world? Supplies or snacks or anything?”
“Hmm… a bowl of M&Ms with all the blue ones taken out.”
