In honor.of the ghovie announcement: Perpetua decides to practice for being on camera ahead of the filming. It doesn't HAVE to take the form of Perpetua filming himself getting off and sending it to his significant other, but those are the life choices he makes...
PONCHO FORGIVE ME this was buried so deep in drafts, which is a chasm I constantly forget about. pls enjoy regardless.
Oh this felt utterly ridiculous. Setting up the camera against the night stand, he began second-guessing everything; the angle, the lighting, whether or not you’d even like this. Shit, he really should have asked first. As much as he’d heard about the universal hatred of unsolicited dick pics, he had heard you mention on several occasions how much you missed him and wondered if he was thinking of you as he sought relief from all the pent-up onstage energy. Of course the answer was a resounding yes, he just thought it was time to prove it.
With a deep breath, he hit the record button on the screen, stepping backward awkwardly to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Good evening, angel. Though it’s, erm, morning, I suppose, where you are. Which isn’t here. Unfortunately.” Smooth start there, V.
“I was thinking of you and naturally it, uh, got the blood flowing. Fuck it. This one is for you, amore.”
Leaning back against the pillows, he ran his palm over the bulge beneath the laces of his pants. Immediately his body responded in turn, hardening against his touch. Eyes flickering shut, he let out a groan as his hand ran over the fabric, the friction rubbing deliciously against his sensitive skin, gone untouched by his lover for so painfully long.
Slowly, he began to untie the laces, cursing himself for not doing so prior to filming as he struggled with trembling fingers. As if you hadn’t seen him so flustered before. Eventually he was able to unfasten the ties, his hand slipping underneath to grasp his cock. He didn’t want to reveal himself just yet; no, if he was going to leap into this unknown territory, he wasn’t going to make it that easy for you.
Gently stroking along his length, he ran his fingers through his hair, imagining the feeling of your hands against his chest, the way your lips felt against his, how your body felt so ludicrously perfect underneath him, taking him so perfectly as you moaned his name. Fuck, that did it. No longer wishing to play so dutifully patient, he yanked his pants down to his ankles, forgoing any apprehension he had about how he might appear on camera.
With a gloved finger to his mouth, he bit down hard as he gripped the base of his cock, feeling the pulsating pressure building with intense fervor. He began to thrust into his fist, arching his back as his mind flooded with images of your sordid nights, how you’d both expanded your tastes in discovering new and filthy ways to please each other. His pace quickened thumb sliding over his head for the precum already collected there. The leather glove was so buttery smooth against his cock, but nothing compared to the feeling of your heat wrapped around him, taking every inch.
“Fuck, angel, the things you do to me,” he rasped in a pathetic whine, eyes clamping shut as the pleasure climbed to unbearable heights.
With a roaring moan, he pushed himself over the edge, pumping furiously as he came, white spurts of his release coating the blankets beneath him. He was panting, chest heaving with his hand planted over his mouth as sweat beaded against his forehead. For a moment he could only stay rooted in place, the final pearly drops falling from his tip, dripping along his fingers.
Finally with a sobering breath, he cleared his throat, glancing down at the mess he’d made of his bed, of himself. This was all your doing, he thought with a smirk. Grabbing a handful of tissues, he began to clean up, then remembered with a slight jolt that he was still fucking recording and this was very much the least sexy part of such things. Scrambling to stand on unsteady legs, he immediately tripped forward as his pants were still around his ankles, and clumsily reached for his phone.
“Until we get to share such things in person again, amore.”
Blowing a kiss, he ended the recording, hitting send before he could give himself a chance to hesitate. Moving almost mechanically, he finished cleaning up, making a pile of soiled blankets and changing into more comfortable clothes. He nearly jumped out of his skin as his phone left out a loud ping. Moment of truth…
Looking down at your name on the screen with a gulp, he tapped the message, seeing a video was sent in return. The text above it read:
The effect you have on me, V xxx
Pressing play, he sat down roughly once more, eyes wide as you came into focus.
mmkay im dying to know your takes on the papas and their stupid guilty pleasures. toss mary in there too >:•]
Okay wait this is so fun.
Primo: Starbucks summer iced drinks. No caffeine enough fake fruit and sugar to choke a horse. He low-key looks forward to it every year and absolutely spends several minutes explaining his order. Because yes you can use the pink drink mix with white mocha sauce, matcha powder, and sweet cream cold foam.
Secondo: this man watches Love Island like other people watched Succession. And boy does he have thoughts. Has he almost stabbed one of the ghouls for disagreeing with his opinion? Absolutely. Because Zach is clearly too stupid to be anything but a fuckboy moron, not a master manipulator. Duh.
Terzo: will deny any sort of pleasure making him feel guilty, but that being said: romance novels. Holy shit does he tear through those. And not even literary smut. This man wants every bodice-ripper/self-insert bullshit he can find. Expect all the commentary as well. "What a fucking buffoon, who does he think he is, she will never forgive him for that." Plus, he thinks (and honestly probably does) he can fuck better than any of the MMCs.
Copia: Twilight. The books, the movies, the soundtracks. Did he blow out his voice belting Decode by Paramore while driving in the rain? Sure did. He doesn't even think the material is good, that's why it's a guilty pleasure! But he thinks Edward could do better and he will die on that hill.
Perpetua: my god this man is intolerable about classical musicals. He's completely incapable of watching one without belting every song, a different voice for each character, without a single thought to the rest of the audience. The King and I, Sound of Music, Oklahoma, doesn't matter, he's got them all on lock. He will also never not cry at the end of Miss Saigon.
Mary: gas station food. Not a bodega or konbini. We're talking a BP Station in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Get this dude a flat soda icee and a microwave burrito and he's a happy little raccoon. His digestive system will never forgive him but he doesn't care. Toss in some of those Hostess cherry fruit pies and he'll eat them by the dozen.
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.
💜🌃
Take a chance on me, pt. 1
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. Beside 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, your back now 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.”
Perpetua meets someone on a dating website that matches people based on their kinks, and he is surprised by who he ends up matched with (your pick of who it is) and for what.
Okay admittedly I was going to take this in a very different direction but then I got a wave of but what if and had to run with it. (Also I'm so sorry for the insane delay- this got trapped in drafts and I thought it was gone forever.)
I wanna be your dog
This was by far the stupidest idea he'd had in a long time. That would be the last time he took advice from the ghouls, but especially from Dew. Even though he'd deliberately left his profile as vague as possible, he still felt horrifically and uncomfortably exposed and vulnerable. But the only thing he was outwardly open about was what he wanted.
He was sick of being the butt of ridicule, of ill-timed jokes. While he knew he wasn't entirely of this world, being called “pet” and “creature” weighed heavily, making him feel like a subhuman monster. No longer. No, he'd get his own little pet. One he could train. One that would obey his every whim.
That is, if anyone actually answered his goddamn-
Bloop-blip.
Perpetua glanced down at his phone, a single notification showing on the screen.
New message from bloodngoore:
Dance with the devil? Sounds kinky, I'm in xx
Well that was…quick.
Not long after his reply, he waited by the door, trying his hardest not to let his nerves get the better of him. He forced himself to stand straighter, taller than his normal stature. Adopting the confidence that was so simple on-stage yet awkwardly fleeting off-stage. But gods how he needed this. He needed to harness that power, channel it into something tangible, a true show of his will and might.
When the knock at the door sounded, he'd almost thought he'd imagined it. It was too easy, far too easy. Isn't the first step having someone blackmail him with dick pics? Perhaps this was just his luck, taking a turn for the better. With a deep exhale, he swung the door open.
“Shit, nice mask,” his potential paramour grinned, leaning against the door frame.
Perpetua stood there for a moment, regarding the man in front of him. He was thin, wiry even, with long limbs and a mess of tousled black hair, worn leather jacket and torn t-shirt, not to mention jeans so tight they looked like they were painted on. But beneath that, he had a handsome face. Quite handsome indeed. And perhaps oddly familiar. But there was something else; a daring, challenging glint in his eye like he was sizing up Perpetua just as strongly.
“You gonna invite me in or you checkin’ that I'm potty trained first?”
“That depends. Are you?”
“Oh I know all sorts of tricks. And I'll do anything for a treat, like a good little pet.”
The scrawny little mutt winked with such confidence that the throb between Perpetua's legs was beginning to be impossible to ignore as he eyed the gutter rat in front of him. Sure he seemed confident, but underneath there was also something begging to be pliant, desperate to be fucked in a way Perpetua was quickly realizing he all-too excited to deliver.
“So does this stray have a name or do I just call you ‘dog’?”
With another smirk, the man reached inside the front of his shirt, producing a leather collar fastened around his neck, a silver skull and crossbones tag dangling from the metal loop. Perpetua stepped forward, gripping the collar and in a rush of self-assurance, gave it a rough tug, yanking him forward.
“Mary?” Perpetua read aloud skeptically.
“That's what it says,” he grinned, craning his neck for better access to the strap. “But you can call me whatever you think fits my charming personality.”
The two locked eyes, Perpetua daring to not break contact first although Mary was clearly testing this limit. Alas, the pup blinked, letting out a borderline indignant albeit impressed huff. Already he was proving his willingness to be broken.
“Call it a trial run,” Perpetua began, pulling out a black tether from the table beside the door, hooking it to Mary's collar. “Though I think I'll keep you on a short leash to start. Just until you learn your place."
“You got it, Master.”
That time the pulsating in his cock was strong he almost doubled over. Perhaps this little mutt was indeed what he needed.
“You seem eager to please.”
“Like I said, I'd do anything for a treat,” Mary smirked again.
“Then let's test that theory.” Perpetua grabbed the collar once more, pulling Mary so close their noses nearly touched as he hissed. “Down, boy."
Mary dropped to his knees, his gaze fixed and unblinking on his owner's face, awaiting the next command.
Oh so we're all feeling some kind of way about this I see.
💜👀
This man loooves an audience. While he doesn't have the finesse with it as Terzo does, he certainly has the enthusiasm. Perhaps it's lingering inexperience from his days tucked away in a Ministry monastery.
He truly lacks any kind of hangups about witnesses, counting them lucky to see whatever acts he's currently involved in, as long as his partner is just as willing.
Speaking of, nothing turns him on more than your enthusiasm and willingness to indulge in some risky acts. The thrill of the threat of being discovered has awakened something within you as well, one of many delightful discoveries Perpetua has brought into your life.
One of your first nights together was a hotel overlooking the city with floor to ceiling windows. At first the idea of fucking against the glass was mortifying- anyone could see! Then V's voice calmed your agitations: "Let them."
One of his most prominent fantasies involves taking you out onto the stage, stripping you bare and fucking you on an alter created just for the occasion. Surrounded by thousands of fans just aching to be where you are, but knowing you're the only one he'd allow this with, the only person he can trust enough to be completely at his mercy. Let the entire world look on in jealousy.
What truly makes him ravenous is when he's so turned on that he can't think of anything else but you reaching your peak against his mouth. Tucked in the corner of a bookstore, he's dropped to his knees in front of you, with unaware clerks and customers merely feet away, pleasuring you just as boldly as if you were alone in his chambers. While his performance isn't hindered by the idea of being seen, this means you have the almost painful duty of keeping your vocalizations under control.
That being said, when he's in full menace mode, he'll do everything he can to try and get you to break, knowing anyone could hear. In fact, once he snuck you into the doorless tour bus, ghouls soundly sleeping just on the other side of the curtain while he bent you in half, relentless fucking you into the mattress as you fought for your life not to scream his name.
i gotta level with you sis, we're hannigram mutuals and i don't know shit about whoever these ghosts are. are they italian patriarchs? is this from a musical? explain who the hell terzo is and why he's hot because I'm ace as hell but he's hot?? I'm guessing he's the hot one?
DON'T TELL HIM THAT, HIS EGO CAN'T TAKE IT.
also I just need everyone in the ghumblrverse to see this incredible ask.
established relationship monogamous terozmega plssssss I will love you forever
YESSSS MY BBYS. Also criminally underrated together. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK❤️
Domestic Idiots: TerzOmega HCs
Terzo is very grumpy in the morning. Very grumpy. Omega knows the exact temperature down to the micro-degree that Terzo takes his espresso. (Two shots and a tiny dollop of whipped cream- the one from the can. This is a secret sworn to the grave.)
Despite being the opposite of demure when it comes to matters of sexcapades, Terzo is still hesitant to ask for non-sexual intimacy. It's not rare that Omega will be reading in peace on the couch when Terzo comes in and full-body flops on the couch beside him, nestling his head in his favorite ghoul's lap. He doesn't want to talk about it, he doesn't want to make it a thing. But he also knows the utter bliss he gets from Omega idly stroking his hair behind his ear as the day's stress melts away.
Terzo loves cooking. He never thought he would. But now he has someone to cook for and this has made all the difference in the world. (What Terzo doesn't realize Omega knows is Terzo's absolute adoration for the Barefoot Contessa. Omega will of course never tell him, but he also knows the exact ear-marked page the recipe came from as Terzo presents his plate in front of him.)
As much as Terzo loves cooking, Omega loves baking. Especially during the holidays. While obviously any Christian holidays are scorned, Omega can't help but make satanic twists on classic Christmas desserts. Gingerbread houses in the form of burning churches, goat cookies expertly decorated with elaborate horns, even candied Krampus balls.
Omega's love language is Acts of Service, which is something the Words of Affirmation Terzo is still trying to wrap his head around. Why is there a new pair of shoes waiting in his closet? Because Omega knew the soles were wearing out. Why are all the bottles of hair products and cologne already impeccably organized in the exact way Terzo prefers them? Because Omega pays attention.
He'll be the first to admit it, but Terzo is an absolute bitch to get in an argument with. Petty squabbles very rarely escalate to full-blown arguments, but Terzo will draw out a situation just because he wants the last word. It's okay, Omega will just put his favorite bottle of wine on the top shelf just out of Terzo's reach so he just has to ask for help. (They do keep a step stool in the closet but Terzo would rather eat his own teeth than to use it.)
Terzo loves being a little spoon so much it makes him stupid.
