That one guy that no one invited hey….would if be ok if u wrote antonio ver of the worship fics pleasd if thats ok👀👀👀👀👀👀 also hi !!! -🎻
A lover’s praise- Antonio Ver🎻
Omg hii Antonio anon it’s been a while!! Sorry I took a bit aizkwk this feels a bit tasteless like a piece of wet white break but I hope you enjoy nonetheless 😿
Tw: manor not mentioned, as usual gender neutral (used adjectives like ‘pretty’ that way), scars.
Antonio had definitely not been a prude during his life, nor one to get easily embarrassed or ashamed of himself in any way. Not necessarily as a show-off— more so, he simply didn’t particularly care.
Even after so long, his soul having been almost fully taken over by the demon he had sacrificed it to in one last attempt to finally achieve that level of satisfaction in music he had always craved, yet somehow struggled to reach— he did not have the right mind, nor the ability, to pay enough attention to such trivial things.
He managed to get what he wanted, when he wanted, always- one way or another. Putting the notes that resonated in his mind onto paper was all that mattered anyway. Plus, he was way too old— he could not waste any more time on silly, futile matters. Nothing impressed him anymore; Nothing could move him enough to change the way he was, too strongly rooted in his dense brain. Plus, caring about his appearance wouldn’t have changed his way of doing music, so he truly did not need to spend energies on that.
Well, almost nothing— until you came along.
Like a tornado, you short-circuited all the wires within his head, making him act like a stupid fool. You were pretty, too pretty. Radiant, kind— everything he was not.
He tried many times to figure out what you saw in him, why you would ever want to be with someone like him in the first place- yet all those questions seemed to remain unanswered. He just could not understand why.
Why?
He had never been one to feel self-conscious, yet you made him so.
Of course, that was not intentional.
He knew he looked weird, to say the least: those long, ragged scars all across his face; The void of his eyes; His hair. Not a conventionally attractive man, one could say. No longer a man at all.
How ridiculous is it to worry about your appearance when you are inhabited by a demon?
Yet there you were, standing in his bedroom to change for the night, and he could not peel his eyes off you. Fabric slid over your body, and he could almost feel it on his own skin— a shiver.
It was ridiculous, feeling all anxious when he was the one inviting you over in the first place.
You turned to face him, walking over to him.
“Thanks again for letting me spend the night here. I’m actually kinda nervous—... hey, are you okay?”
“Yes, I am. Don’t worry, darling”
“Are you sure? Also, aren’t you going to change?”
You had barely finished speaking before he dragged you down to him, winding your body in his hair.
“I’m good like this”.
“Oh, you can’t be serious! Come on!”
You tried to break free and help him take his shirt off, but another strand of hair came to stop your hands.
“Hey!”
He laughed.
“You can’t be serious. Your clothes are dirty!”
“They seem quite clean to me, dear”.
“I’m not going to sleep in a dirty bed”.
“Oh, blackmailing me now?”
He let go of you, sat on the edge of the bed, and kept laughing to himself— something like a tired giggle— as he swept a hand down his face.
“Come on,” you said again, leaning over his shoulder.
“I am not sure about that, sweetheart”.
“Why not? Is there a problem?”
“Yeah, there is”.
You frowned, confused, as a million possibilities flashed through your mind.
“Is it me?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it, sweetheart”.
“Then what’s wrong?”
“You have that smart brain of yours. You already know...”
“It’s clear I don’t. Enlighten me.”
He let out a small grunt, bony thumb hovering over your right cheek.
“Oh, you are evil, wanting to make me admit it out loud. It’s silly”.
He took one of your hands and moved it under his shirt. Your fingers traced along his skin, feeling all the bumps and rough edges of his scars. His hardened, scaly torso.
“Do you get it now? Don’t act clueless”.
“Is it because of your scars?...”
“Mm. See? Told you you’ve got a sharp mind.”
You sighed, your hand still resting on his abdomen.
“I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything you’re not comfortable with... but I don’t get it”.
“What is it that you don’t understand?”
“Do you think it bothers me? Like, the fact that you have scars? Do you think it’s an issue? Because I guarantee, it’s not.”
“I just feel... embarrassed, my dear. Ah! For the first time in so long. I’m just not fit for you, and I thought you might finally understand that as well once you saw me all bare and exposed. I can no longer pretend if you take all my defenses away”.
“Oh, Antonio... this is so silly. None of that is going to happen. Of course I’m going to stay. You could be invisible or— I don’t know— not have a body at all, for all I care. I love you for you”.
Your hand slid out from under his shirt, coming up to trace his jawline.
“Ah, you’re just too used to having me around”.
“Yeah, probably. But I wouldn’t want it any other way”.
You crawled on top of him, kissing his jaw all the way up to the corner of his lips.
“My beautiful man...”
One hand kept tracing his skin, the path of one particularly deep scar that connected to his collarbone.
“So handsome”.
“Oh, come on. With all the talking, you’re playing dirty”.
“Perhaps. But I really need to get it into that thick brain of yours that you are fucking perfect, get it?”
“Keep moving like this, and I think I will remember quite well”.
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