#the band ghost x reader

[papathe5th]

What if… Perpetua X (newly-turned) vampire Reader in a “meet cute” scenario? They’re both feral to begin with, but Reader has much less experience. They both grow to love hunting together.

Ghestie, I’ll be honest. I crammed a season’s worth of a horror romance into a single episode with this one.

Anyway, I hope you have fun reading it!

Pairing: Vampetua x Fledgling GN!Reader

Words: 1400

Rating: E (explicit)

You may not know what you’ve become, but you do know that you’re hungry.

The night you awoke in the morgue, you were so starved, you ate the cold innards of the corpse on the autopsy table. And, though it was congealed, the blood went down as easily as any refreshing drink on a summer’s day.

Tonight, covered in nothing but white scrubs, you stalked a deer hunter in the woods. You’ve eaten nothing but decomposing things, so you were going to try fresh kill, and venison, for the very first time.

The hunter seemed to you not all that skilled, but, then again, neither were you. Covered in foliage, the two of you were waiting impatiently for something, or some being, to take the bait. You were perched up in the trees while he was on his belly in the bushes. And you both perked up when a twig snapped in the dark distance.

The man was surprised to see his trap go off without it being touched, but you were shocked to see a human move at the speed of moonlight. It seemed to you like they were a shadow, black and weightless, yet they had stepped in the trap and escaped it in a blink of the hunter’s eye. Before either of you could figure out what just happened, the shadow fell on the man and you watched him being dragged back into the dirt, deep into the bushes.

The screams that filled the night were loud in your ears. Your drums were beating inside your skull as if you were sitting next to a speaker. You used to, when you were alive. In fact, you had been the night you drew your last breath. Tonight, you heard the hunter’s heart giving out.

When the screams stopped, you uncovered your ears only to hear the decadent sound of slurping. The shadow was feeding. Saliva flooded your mouth and your stomach growled a little too loud.

The shadow heard you.

“You can come down now,” a voice beckoned you into the bushes. “If you want it while it’s still warm.”

Tonight, you met another of your kind. He was more menacing than the woods, more gracious than a deer and deadlier than any predator.

He wore stage make-up like war paint, a fitted black suit under a leather trench coat and a wild head of dark hair. He combed the curls out of his face with his long black claws as he took your trembling hand to his black lipstick smeared lips. To reach it, he bent in half and you swore a bone snapped. None of it worried you as much as the look he gave you. His eyes were mismatched, one as warm as a green pond and other, as cold as the pale moon.

“Papa V Perpetua,” he smiled so wide, you would see every sharp blood-stained tooth and the gums they were sticking out of.“You’ve never fed before, have you, little bat?”

Tonight, you fed from a living being for the first time. The hunter had become the hunted and Papa V Perpetua had offered you his heart.

You stilled yourself and sunk your newly sharpened teeth into the warm wounds he inflicted with his own set into the chest. The death keel that the prey let out turned your stomach, punched you in the gut and broke your heart all at once.

Papa recognized the agony you were in, and latched his mouth back into the flesh, took a long sip and beckoned you back at his side.Snatching your chin, he squeezed your jaw until it was slack and spit blood into your mouth. Before you could pull away, he pressed his lips down on yours and fed you his soaking tongue. He made you drink it like a baby bird. No, not like a bird. Like a bat. A vampire bat.

“Vampire bats kiss with mouthfuls of blood to strengthen bonds,” you read aloud the paragraph.

The light of the laptop was nothing compared to the glow of Papa’s left eye. He rose from the pillow, propping himself up on his below. And he studied you while you were researching the being you were becoming. “I’m a…vampire bat?”

You work the words on your tongue. It had an aftertaste of blood. And of him.

It turned out that whatever-you-were-supposed-to-be is ruled by both blood lust and Lust with a capital L. After he fed you his dinner, french kissing you until you were full, he decided that you were dessert. Papa V Perpetua wrapped you in his leather coat - or wings - and fled with you to a penthouse at the edge of the word you once knew. He needed to taste you and you needed him between your thighs, so you let him bite, drink and suckle the flesh that you would have to rub against flesh once you were able to walk again. Because he also had to penetrate you, press you into the old spring mattress and break the headboard while spreading your legs and stretching your walls.

“You are blessed.” His claws combed through the small hairs at the back of your neck. “Our Lord Lucifer has bestowed upon you the gift of immortality.”

Tonight, you looked Death in the face and asked. “Did you kill me?”

You have no recollection of the time the Devil himself gifted you with an insatiable desire to kill your fellow humans, but your heart remembered your loved ones and your feet fled from them. You couldn’t risk hurting them. And you couldn’t accept not being welcomed into their arms. So you ran off into the woods like the animal you felt you had become. Like the vampire bat you were becoming.

“A drunk driver killed you,” Papa stroked your cheek with his thumb. And, even as you tried to turn down his cold comfort, the claws in your hair kept you there. “The deadliest predators on earth are irresponsible drivers. Look it up.”

Looking at him, seeing nothing out of place on his face save for the curls that stuck to the little paint lining his eyes and shaping his cheeks, you couldn’t believe how cool he was about all of this. As cool as a snake. Or a corpse. You were two walking corpses after all.

“And Lucifer just happened to be at the scene of the crime?”

“Oh, my little bat,” he smiled, all jagged, sharp, deadly teeth. “He led me to you.” His other hand rounded your throat like a rope. “The emergency services couldn't make it all the way out here, and they had just reached the city limits when I…” His mouth breathed against your closed one, his tongue licking your lips. “I tasted your blood for the first time. And fed you my own.”

You gasped then and let his tongue slither in. The hand around your neck was tightening like a noose while the one at the back of your head sunk into the wound from which you bleed to death.

“You’re welcome,” he chuckled between kisses so deep, you felt them in your chest, in your cold heart. And in your burning loins.

“That’s why I…I’m hot for you?”

“Vampire bats form bonds by sharing their prey, don’t they?” Papa V Perpetua pushed the laptop of your lap and dragged you atop his own. “I’ll share every one of my dinners with you,” His fingers forced your head back, snatching a fist of hair. The rest of them rested on the small of your back, holding you up. “I’ll share every drop of blood with you. Forever.”

Tonight, you died for the second time. Papa V Perpetua guided you through it as he had during your first feeding. He kissed the length of your jaw until you whimpered . He smashed your ass cheek until you squeeked. And he nibbled on your neck until you begged him to drink from you again

His cock was hardened with every delicious sound that dripped out of your mouth. And it was harder to take, but you were soon bouncing in his lap with nothing but the saliva he drizzled on top to make the slide smoother. He had more spit to share which you welcomed with your tongue rolled out of your mouth. And you tasted your own blood when he fed it to you tonight.

And your little death came to you as it came to him. You came together.

[juttytaylorsmustache]

Perpetua’s first week at the clergy p1

*in his private bathroom*

V: *very confused look on his face while mixing up a bottle of hair dye*

III: *walking in, snatching the bottle out of his hands* my god!!! Have you been raised by a pack of wolves at that convent??

V: *on the verge of tears, knowing hair dye had always been forbidden in the convent* I-

III: Emeritus men ALWAYS use L’Oréal Paris, have you no brain?! *throwing away bottle with flamboyant hand gestures* it is vital we protect those virgin curls

V: *even more confused*

[cupid-ghoul]

⋆˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆˚｡⋆ what the ghouls would get you/their mate for valentine's day ⋆˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆˚｡⋆

hello lovelies and happy valentine's day 🩷 since today's one of my favourite holidays I have a treat for you - I'm cupid ghoul after all - 🩷 once again this is just for funsies and not meant to offend 🩷 you're all deserving of love 🩷 xox

Aether: he's mature and obviously has the day written down in his calendar. his phone reminds him weeks in advance to get a good gift. I believe he'd gift his beloved flowers and an annotated copy of either his or their favourite book. all of the annotations also relate to the relationship and special moments he has with his love.

Mountain: he's calm, gentle, and a romantic even if he's not showing it outwardly a lot. Mount would create a unique and beautiful bouquet made up of flowers he grew himself. the showstopper of the bouquet would be a beautiful flower he crossbred just for his petal.

Rain: he gifts his starfish jewelry. BUT unlike those people that gift their partner one of these random heart necklaces (you hopefully know the ones), rain has taste. The jewelry matches the aesthetic and preferences of his partner perfectly, since he's so observant and in tune with his lover. also if his love is into it he will present them with a blood vial necklace (he even drew it himself).

Swiss: he's a bit of a wildcard and very passionate, so for valentine's he gifts his doll a lovely little lingerie set that he will also happily take off later. with that his partner gets a fun little sex toy which will also be promptly test driven in the evening. to round it out swiss will put a lovely little box of chocolates or sweets on top because what is valentine's without a bit of traditional gift giving.

Dewdrop: he will give his angel a mixtape that he made just for them. Dew likes physical media so it's either a CD or a cassette tape and he even customised the case just for his partner. he tries to act nonchalant when actually giving the gift because he has the emotional range of a teaspoon (in reality it was VERY chalant, he almost crashed out because his little project failed at least once) but it's fine, he's trying his best.

Phantom: he's a little confused but enthusiastic about the holiday. so he presents his starlight with a rabbit skull. he really likes oddities (he has his own little collection already) and what's more romantic than hunting for your partner? exactly! nothing. it might be an odd gift but his effort and general sweetness are just selling it. however next year he might buy a jellycat.

Aurora: she loves pink, she loves hearts, and she loves the holiday (she's just like me fr) so for her bunny she goes all out. chocolates, one of those giant stuffed animals that is just a bit taller than her (it's also a you problem to figure out where to store this plush monstrosity), and a couple sex toy that she'll gladly use with her partner once things settle down for the night. who knows maybe she even makes her bunny a bracelet. she just loves love.

Sunshine: their love language is quality time so instead of gifting their firefly something sunny wants to have fun, which makes an amusement park or carnival date an ideal vday activity. sunny loves fun and the thrill of rollercoasters or haunted houses. they will win their partner one of those stuffed animals and even buys a photo of them and firefly on one of the rides. they also have some candy for their partner afterwards.

Cumulus: as a romantic she wants to spend valentine's with her love bug, so she takes them on a picnic that she prepared herself in the kitchen. sandwiches, a little cake, fruit, whatever their partner's heart desires. Lus will read to their love bug with their head in her lap and if they're into jewelry she will gift them a little piece of jewelry (necklace/bracelet/anklet) with a C charm on it.

Cirrus: she loves to spoil her honey with a fancy dinner and a nice perfume that fits her partner's taste perfectly. Cirrus wants to see them all dressed up and take them out on the town. after the date she will stop at a park for a walk under the moonlight and some whispered love confessions.

divider by @/dollywons, mdni banner by @/anitalenia, pics from Pinterest

@cyb3r-st4rz - you wanted to be tagged lovely

[sink-me-in-your-ocean]

𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔥 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰 II

How would the Ghouls & Copia manhandle you when you’re being naughty?

Prompt by the illustrious @endhisbloodlineinmyesophagus

NSFW/Suggestive below the cut.

Copia:

At first, he doesn’t realize why you’re doing what you’re doing

But then he puts the pieces together, and it makes his hands twitch

He makes you lay across his knees, never needing to ask more than once

He’s going to spank you with his gloved hands

He makes you count each one

“How many was that?”

“Five.” 

“You’re not counting properly, either that or you’re lying intentionally. I have no idea why you’d do such a thing.”

“I’d never say less with the intention of you giving me more on purpose.”

“I’m beginning to think these punishments aren’t working on you anymore, amore. Let’s try something else...”

-

Swiss:

Won’t hesitate to put you on a leash when you step out of line

When a leash won’t work he’ll resort to other methods

Ties. You. Down.

He will step back to admire his handiwork on you, after a moment of staring he forgets your transgressions because of how good you look tied up

He’s lost in the sauce

“Sweet fucking hells, you’ve never looked better.”

The gag in your mouth keeps you from speaking.

“Remind me, what were you doing that was so bad earlier?”

“Hrmph - ” The sound was muffled.

“Shhh, don’t talk with your mouth full. Now just stay right there.”

-

Phantom:

When you act up, it flips a switch in his brain

Picks you up with ease from the side, lifting you bridal style into his arms

The tightness of his grip on you speaks volumes to his possessiveness 

He scans for an unoccupied room, hells, even a dark corner to take you

He needs you immediately and he knows you need him just as badly

“Oh you’ve done it now, you’ve got my attention, so let’s go.”

“Phantom, slow down!”

“No. You fired me up now you can bring me back down.” He sets you down once you’re behind closed doors. “On your fucking knees.”

You kneel in front of him, eager to please him after misbehaving.

“Oh fuck, yes, such a good girl, just like that.”

-

Dewdrop/Sodo:

Misbehaving is a broad term to this ghoul, in fact, he likes when you’re naughty

Except when you give any attention to his brothers

Now that is a sure-fire way to pour gasoline on his flames

He comes up behind you when you least expect it (see where this is going?)

His long fingers wrap around your throat, pressing intentionally on your arteries, your head swooning in seconds

“Don’t go all limp on me yet.”

“But, Dew -” you whimper.

“Come on, you know exactly what you do to me. It was intentional, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now I’m going to be very intentional with you. I’m not letting you out of my sight the rest of the night.”

-

Rain:

He has infinite patience, at least until you vex him

And boy howdy, once you’ve crossed that bridge you’d better be prepared

There’s a determined look in his eye as he stalks towards you

He grabs your wrist, and even if you try to pull away, it’s impossible, his grip strength is too much

He drags you with him through the nearest corridor to a quiet space

“You’re going to be nice and quiet now for me.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Then I’ll make you.”

His hand clamps over your lips shockingly fast, leaving you a thin line to breathe from your nose.

“I love seeing you get a taste of your own medicine. Don’t like it when I match your energy? Don’t misbehave.”

-

Mountain:

Sits and watches stoically as you make a fool out of yourself 

Doesn’t need to say anything

Doesn’t need to do anything, but he does

He easily scoops you up, throwing you over his shoulder

He could spank you from here, but he prefers his partner underneath him (If you know what I mean)

“You do have to do all of that to get my attention, you know.” He plops you on his bed, climbing on top of you.

“I know, but maybe I’m looking for bad attention.”

“Yeah?”

You whine and writhe underneath him as he smacks (not hard) the thickness of your outer thigh.

“That’s what you want? Just ask next time, little villainess.”

-

Just da bois this time, but if you’d like me to include the ghoulettes pls just comment, I’m happy to oblige a fellow ghoulette lover! ( *︾▽︾)

Ghoulette Version Here!

[ficandkaboodle]

The Stroke of Midnight (Copia x Fem!Reader) - NSFW

A/N: Veteran smut-writers, y'all deserve a hillside of marigolds and picnics complete with pasta and endless breadsticks 🫡 (Seriously, though, thank you to all who've put up with me on this beast. It put me on life-support just long enough to finish it in time! Y'all deserve the pasta picnic and some cookie boxes with dope-ass cookies) It’s my first attempt at non-blurb smut so you’ve been warned… Banner Credit Goes to @saradika-graphics! Word Count: 5897. Shoot dang, almost made it to 5900! CW: Reader and Copia are buzzed so expect many, many references to alcohol and its consumption. And you know what happens when Copia gets buzzed . . .👀 So on that note . . . MDNI for sexy times while intoxicated!

Shady business and unfeasible expectations be damned (or perhaps blessed): the Satanic Church knew how to throw an actually good New Years Eve party. Of course, it would've been given enough if it relied solely on the expectation that alcohol flowed like water. But no: They went the extra mile and actually included food. Not dinky little cocktail wienies and room temperature hors d'oeuvres –  honest to Beelzebub food!

Now that was a commitment to making sure everyone in the congregation was having a good time, in your opinion. Everywhere you looked, there was some form of excitement: Siblings dancing; Clergy members opening party crackers while drunkenly cackling at the curse of glitter they'd inflicted on each other; ghouls challenging each other to shot-downing competitions; and everything in-between.

In short, it was a beautiful bacchanalia with which to welcome another year of spreading the Old One's word.

The only thing that could make it actual perfection, though? Perhaps if your boyfriend of a month and a half were actually by your side. Or, at the very least, within eye shot!

You weren't entirely shocked that he'd disappeared. Being Frater Imperator, it was only an expectation that he might get pulled away for some ass-kissing from residential and visiting eminences alike. But it had been almost half an hour, and your own friends had wandered off to makeout or have other types of fun with their own significant others at this point.

Far be it from you to consider yourself clingy – you liked your independence. But . . . Okay, maybe some sappy part of you still lingered inside, coloring your thoughts and expectations. Specifically, they were colored with the same black and pink of Copia's lips.

Part of you wondered what cheesy holiday romcom you were trying to replicate, holding out for something as cliche as a kiss on New Years. You’d even gotten dolled up in a cutesy mini dress like one you’d probably see in such a sappy flick!

But then again, Lilith and Eve sinned so that man could be born and kiss the way that he did. Deadline aside, getting one at anytime tonight would be the perfect assurance that you were truly entering a brand new era of your life.

So . . . It was probably understandable that you may have looked a little pouty to the sober-enough onlooker. Your eyes scanned the crowd, taking a sip of the cocktail you'd been nursing in order to pacify yourself. By now, you were starting to realize a burning hum in your ears and cheeks as the alcohol began to seep into your blood.

You were beginning to contemplate giving in and venturing to the snack table for some garlic-dipped pita chips (you'd been staring longingly at them since you first arrived, only holding off because of the coveted Kiss), when –

There! Finally! You knew that jacket! It's hard not to, considering it was a glittery gold. It caught so much light that it was frankly a wonder how you hadn't found his gilded disco ball ass sooner. Especially given how . . . awkward his movements are. Uneven, always moving too far left, then too far right before barely uprighting and –

Oh. Oh no.

At one point, he stumbled to a wobbly stop, head cocking and eyes squinting before flying open wide.

A smile grew on Copia’s face as his arms flew up in front of him, hollering out a notably slurred, "There she iiiisssss! Amore mio, la mia vita, la mia mela – " He paused to make a singular yet violent hiccup. "Mela alla cannelaaaaa!!"

You met him halfway in his path towards you, worried that he might collapse on the marble floor if you didn't at least try to catch him. Copia wasn't an especially heavy person but in his drunken state, he seemed to disregard the courtesy of not foisting his entire self onto you. Instead, he was far too focused on hugging you close, mushing his cheek against the top of your head.

"Ahhh, topina. I -hic- missed you!" Your nose wrinkled as a waft of a powerful alcohol flowed down to your nose. You had a bit of a buzz going yourself but at least you had a cute little cocktail to thank for it. Judging by your burning olefactories, Copia was on some of the harder stuff.

"I – ugh – I missed you, too," you responded carefully. It was an awkward act to try and balance the remainder of your drink while also getting Copia to balance flat on his own two feet but you somehow managed. Call that a New Year’s Eve Miracle. "Geez, what happened to you?"

You may as well have told a corny little joke with how he giggled.

"Some Clergy members gave me some shots of rum from Ja -hic-maica! Coconuts!" You couldn't tell what he was laughing at now: The fun time he was having, or the look of horror on your face. Harder stuff indeed.

Now you had an important decision to make: Either you found a seat, prayed that he sat still long enough for you to build up a plate of fried and greasy foods for him to sober up on; or you played the part of the boring old partner and marched him to his chambers for an early evening (well, as early as 11:18pm could be considered).

You heard a sigh slither into the middle of your thoughts as Copia's arms wrapped around you once more, nudging you back into him. The threat of him putting his weight back on you was enough for you to come to a quick decision: Sober him up just enough to where he could take ten steps without the threat of collapse, then take him to bed. With how he was standing, there was just no way you were going to be able to make your way to the other side of the Great Hall, never mind the other side of the building.

You felt confident with your choice just by the journey to a free chair and table alone.

"Okay, oookay," you grunted as you tried to angle his rump into the seat. Copia let out a disappointed sound too young for someone of his age as you gently de-tangled yourself from his embrace. Inconveniences aside, you had to fight back the desire to coo at how adorable he was being. Copia was always affectionate with you, but it appeared that alcohol added a whole different layer to that.

"Don't worry, Caro " you softly assured. "I'm just going to get you a little something to nosh on, okay? I'll be right back. But only if you stay put, alright? If you leave – even if it's just to go find me – I won't be able to find you. So can you be a good boy and do that for me? Stay put?"

When you saw his expression collapse into a somber pout, you wondered if perhaps he found your tone patronizing. Judging by the sulky "fine" he uttered, however, it was apparent that he was more upset by the fact you couldn't be fused at the hip forever.

You could work with that. It wouldn't be long anyway. Even when you returned with a flimsy red paper plate covered in tortilla chips, a scoop of veggie lo mein, and two egg rolls, you could tell that the look of joy on his face was only meant for you. He would've disregarded the little spread entirely and latched himself back on you if you didn't take the time to place both it and a cup of water before him with the gentle instruction that he tuck in.

"Carefully," you were sure to add. A tipsy gait was bad enough; if he ate himself sick, you'd be even further out of your depth than you were already beginning to feel.

To your relief, he listened, proceeding to nibble on an egg roll's crunchy wrapping. Good. Now all you had to do was sit and wait for his system to clear up a bit. Your back and feet cried with relief as you plopped yourself down on the seat next to him – your first and only real mistake of the evening.

In hindsight, you would compare it to being like a living lava lamp. Maybe there was some science to it or whatever, but you were becoming increasingly unable to apply logic. All you knew was that the longer you sat, the warmer your face began to feel and the more bubbly your brain seemed to become. The flare of alcohol was rising inside of you like a hot river, flowing upwards, into your chest, into your cheeks, and into your brain. You could practically feel your sensibilities flickering like a lightbulb threatening to go out.

Crap. Curse that cute cocktail, it had betrayed you after all! Your eyes fluttered as though that would do literally anything for you besides make you look frazzled.

"Wha’s the matter, Schricchio?" Copia sounded only slightly less slurred, though the fact that he was able to pin your shift in demeanor after only an egg roll and a half stood as a good sign. All the more reason for you to remain firm and stand your ground against the liquid possession threatening to take over your senses.

Copia needed you to be the sober one here, even if he didn't really know it. You shook your head and nudged your cocktail further away from the both of you.

"Bad aftertaste is starting to hit," you claimed. A part of you mourned that you would have to abandon it so soon. The dull pain was slightly remedied when Copia wordlessly offered you a bite from the remainder of his fried treat. It was nice to know that there were some things about Copia that not even alcohol could change.

"Are you mad at me?"

He sounded quiet. The sounds of the party grew softer and softer as you both walked further from the Great Hall. On occasion, you'd pass a couple making out or a Sister of Sin drunkenly sobbing over her phone while her equally sloshed friends warned her against texting "him" back.

Otherwise, though, most of the Abbey's residents and attendees were either back where the action was happening, or making some action happen in their rooms. Which was where you, as a Sibling yourself, would probably be heading to once you got Copia situated in his own quarters. As sweet on you as he was, your relationship was still new; you didn't feel it was right to impose and spend the night without his permission.

And even if you had it, you'd have to second guess if it was a situation where anyone was being taken advantage of. He seemed slightly better than he did nearly half an hour ago, no longer launching himself on top of you in an unsuccessful effort to fuse. Even his balance seemed somewhat improved. However, the rum was clearly still in his system, making his cheeks and nose run red and his sensitivities run tender.

That was probably why he sounded so nervous and shy when he'd asked you his strange question.

You knew he couldn't see the confusion on your face, not when he was trailing behind you, but you nonetheless wore it. "No? Why would you think that?"

You probably weren't convincing, given that you barely turned to glance back at him, but you needed to keep your purposeful stride going. Evidently, Copia had a better handle of his alcohol than you did, seeing as the bit of egg roll you'd eaten did virtually nothing for you.

If you broke the intense concentration it was taking for you to avoid wobbling, your barely concealed cover would be blown – and you'd probably faceplant and force a buzzed old man to drag you off somewhere to hide your shame. He’d probably throw out his back and then you’d both enter the new year with wounded bodies and wounded pride.

Copia worried his bottom lip. "For getting silly. And for making us leave the party early."

You nearly scoffed with amusement. Did he really think that that would be all it took to upset you? The poor dear, so darling and worried even when on the brink of being absolutely sauced.

You sighed, the fruity smell of your cocktail fluttering back at you. "Issa New Year's party, Co: Everyone is drunk."

Including me, you thought with guilt. You winced as you realized a bit of slur was beginning to drip into your speech but carried on. "But I dun really care about everyone; I care about you. And a little while ago, I was worried our dear Frater was going to get himself hurt, y'know?"

"I know . . ." he mumbled. The hushed tone of his voice implied a guilt of his own, and it hurt your heart to hear him like that.

You knew good and well that Copia's onstage persona was more confident and bombastic than who he really was offstage. But to see him question or be uncertain about something still tugged a saddening chord inside you. And the alcohol no doubt made it worse . . .

Fuck it. Your conviction to maintain speed was tossed out the nearest window as you slowed your pace until you were right alongside your glittery guy.

"Hey." You entwined your fingers with his, flesh meeting warm leather. At fifty-something years-old, Copia wore the expression of a young child experiencing the wonder of their crush talking to them. Even in your fizzling state, you adored it and hoped you'd remember it forever.

"I mean it."

You gave his hand an affirming squeeze. "I was worried about you, y'know?" The cocktail told you to lean in and burrow against his arm, and you found yourself obliging. The sequins of his coat weren't the most welcoming texture, but the fact that they were on him made them 100 times more bearable to you.

"I wan' take care of you . . . 'Cause you're mine." Welp. There went the goal of trying to bite back your slurring. But Copia didn't seem to mind. Far from it, if his response was anything to go by, in fact.

Returning the gentle squeeze, he sighed dreamily. "You're so nice . . ."

You lightly giggled either from the cocktail further encroaching your senses or from feeling your partner press a small kiss to your hair. "You're not so bad yourself, Frater."

You felt him nuzzle his nose against the spot a kiss had previously been place, then a flutter of a deep inhale and respective exhale. "'Smell nice, too . . ." You almost wanted to make a sarcastic comment about how sure, the residual smells of debauchery from the party definitely made for an intoxicating bouquet. But as his hand released yours, only to wander to your waist, you couldn't help but feel that might've actually been apt in this moment.

A gasp popped from your lips, followed by a light squeal of delight and ticklishness as he gave the tender flesh a teasing squeeze. Your reflexive wiggling only stopped when his other hand crept further up your back. As he drew your bodies closer, you couldn't help but notice how his personal heat felt . . . more intense. Even in the drafty halls of the old structure, Copia was more than enough to set your cheeks on fire.

Well, that, and the intoxication wafting from him.

The gleam of his left eye pierced through the darkness like the stare of a predator on prey. And even in the haze of euphoria, there was a steadiness in them that made sure to lock in on you and only you.

"You feel nice . . ." The low rumble of his voice made a shudder run through you.

Oh, yeah: That Jamaican rum was still there. And no amount of food or water was going to hold it back from taking control of your Copia. Like a devil lying in wait, it struck at the perfect time: A barely-lit corridor, no Siblings or Ghouls or Clergy patrolling, far enough away so that the sounds of the party were just barely above a loud whisper.

Even a more sober you wouldn't have stood a chance. Petrified with lust and intrigue, you were the perfect kill. The rough kiss he pressed to your lips came easily, and you could only welcome it with a heady moan.

The tastes of cocktails and hard rum mingled together between your tongues, overpowering any other taste including your own. In your increasingly buzzed state, you were beginning to understand why perhaps Copia bothered to drink more than one shot of rum: At least when coming from him, it tasted diabolically divine.

A soft whimper for more filled the space between your separated lips, then muffled and obliged when they wetly reunited once more.

Uncoordinated and stumbling footsteps echoed through the corridor as you felt Copia gently but insistingly ushering you backwards until your back found purchase against the wall of an alcove.

There was a stark juxtaposition in that moment, where the cold and uneven stone biting into your bare back urged you even closer against the burning, soft hold of your beloved. The contrast had a dizzying effect, and you weren't sure which temperature made your nipples pebble beneath your clothing more as you released a trembling sigh.

Your thighs twitched out of reflex but that was all the rum demon needed to secure yet another opportunity to take and take. A low, spicy, coconut-scented moan was coupled with gloved hands removing themselves from the curve of your waist and back before returning to your body – with one traveling upwards to your chest and its twin sloping downward to grip at the meat of your hip.

In the short time you'd been an official couple, Copia had made many things clear: That he was the sort to treasure the one he loved, and that he had a fondness for breasts of all shapes and sizes had been but a few of them. And given how he gently cupped yours, relishing in its weight and warmth against his palm, it was apparent that this held even through the haze of inebriation. Not even the ambitions of the rum could blind him to the want of cherishing your body.

If he'd only remained fondling you, you would have been plenty happy. Both parties were enjoying themselves as Copia's thumb glided back and forth over your nipple as though it had found a new toy to play with; and the bead itself seemed to crave his stimulation even through the material of your dress, bending to his touch and tickling your senses.

But with a hardening grip, you were reminded of where his other hand had gone. It pinned your hip as close to the wall as possible, not allowing for even the slightest wriggle away.

"Amore." A single word made uneven by laborious panting. But even then, you knew what he intended: He needed you to stay put, to not move an inch. All the easier for him to position his hips against yours.

Even though your dress made the contact somewhat awkward, Copia's reaction portrayed utter bliss. It was just enough for his hardening dick to become aware of even the slightest softness of your mound. That was all it took for his head to tilt back to release a sound that combined a whine of pleasure with a groan of hunger.

He gave the connection a tentative movement, pressing himself against a slot only the barrier of clothing prevented him from fully entering. The friction proved to be all he needed to give your warmth a few more, testing thrusts before giving way to more frequent, eager, and harder ones.

When his hardness finally found the tenderness of your awakening clit (as evidenced by the full-body jolt and hiccuped, "Oh!" you gave), he knew he'd finally found the angle he wanted.

In the nanoseconds between his hips pulling back and rushing forward, you found yourself just sober enough to remember something. You had never paid mind to because it appeared to just be rumors from ghouls and slander from the Ministry's former director.

But as Copia's hips began to dig into yours, accompanied by hot pants that fanned against your face, you had confirmation: The Frater, when just drunk enough, loved a good frottage.

You squeaked with warm delight as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, forcing your abdomens closer as your lower bodies began to meld together in one humping blur. He, of course, accepted the embrace, shakily endearing you as "Schricchina" as your cute little noises continued.

What probably had once housed something as insignificant as a potted plant was quickly becoming the world’s smallest shrine to lust. The liturgy came in the form of whimpers and moans, your prayers coming from slurred utterings of "please"s and "fuck"s and garbled Italian he had yet to teach you the meanings of.

When it wasn't being attacked with sloppy, tonguing kisses, your mouth hung open, puffing out small pants and tiny "oh"s. You didn't care how you must have looked as drool threatened to fall from your lips; all you cared about was getting Copia to nudge at your swelling clit again and again and again and so on until you grew tired. (Which, of course, would be never.)

The glittery sequins of his jacket bit into your fingers as they gripped against his back and shoulders, but you felt none of it. Nor did you feel the grit of the alcove wall against your back as Copia's feverish movements caused your body to rock against it.

If it wasn't the feel of his hands squeezing and playing with you; his mouth nipping and sucking and licking at whatever flesh he could reach; or the enthusiastic thrust of his dick searching for your wet warmth, then you weren't physically or mentally able to pay it any mind.

Copia himself didn't seem to know what to do with himself; caught in a stupor of his own desires, he wanted to do it all, taste it all, and feel it all. His forehead would press against the junction of your neck, only for him to raise almost immediately so that he could carve his teeth there before applying wet suckles there to salve the reddening spot. His hands would leave their positions, only to instantly regret it and miss the bounce of your breast and the twitching of your hips with every thrust he gave.

He was delirious in a concoction of his own drunkenness, lust, and greed, and he only wanted it more. Unfortunately, this current position, with how your dress lay over your thighs, wasn't going to cut it! A growl rumbled from deep within his heaving chest as he roughly gripped your thigh before hoisting it up to rest against his hip. Your body would have slipped from the position if not for his own thick thigh coming up to seat half your jiggling ass against.

The change in positioning was awkward only for the amount of time it took for him to assure you were situated into place. Otherwise? The blast of pleasure was immediate. With your thighs now properly spread, so, too, did your lips, causing your wetness an easier escape to be collected by your panties. Every thrust against them smeared your slick and created a sticky sound that only seemed to spur Copia on once he realized it lay beneath the rustling of your clothing and your collective noises.

Gritting his teeth did nothing to sharpen the oozing, rasping purrs of "Yes"s. The mantra almost sounded as though he were even thanking you; for what, you were in no headspace to determine. All you knew (or cared to know) was that the feelings were mutual.

"A-Amore," he managed to wantonly string together. "A-are you cl-close? You gonna cum with me?"

His voice had gone husky by now, but even the roughened edges couldn’t take away from how pleading he sounded. The effect it had on you was almost shameful as you could feel your walls clenching, grasping desperately for a dick that wasn’t even inside it yet. A moan, the loudest you’d uttered yet, burst forward from your awaiting lips.

"Yes, yes, yes! Please! Right there, Co, right there –!!" All you could do was murmur mindlessly, begging, pleading for him to just. Keep. Going. There! And ever the dutiful lover, your Frater was more than happy to oblige.

Through eyes fluttering through wave after wave of sensation, you could make out how your lover’s expression began to tighten. His eyes screwed shut and his teeth wore into his kiss-swollen lip. It was as though he were concentrating. And judging by the increase in tempo and form, he very well may have been.

Thrusts that had been straight forward until now began to curve and rotate, not at all unlike the effortless hip movements he would perform during his frontman days. The devilish thrusts that just watching footage of would send your pussy salivating and craving him. Feeling them on you, experiencing how direct they were, how thoroughly they hit all the sweet spots on such a small target –

You could've broken into sobs with how good the friction felt. How every streak of his cock left a trail of blissful fire lapping at your needy little clit. Your hips would trail after his own, desperately trying to mimic his movements and catch each rut his body applied to yours.

Your breaths pitched higher and higher as words melted into incoherent, single syllable sounds. If any more direction for what you needed to get off were required, you would have to fight to give them form. It was perhaps by sheer luck (or the interference of Asmodeus himself) that all Copia needed was to listen to your whimpers, your screeches that only vaguely resembled cries for more, and note how your hands struggled to commit to one place to know precisely what his good girl needed.

You'd long since stopped caring who all heard you – all that mattered was that you came, even if it was only on Copia's clothed cock. And you would have only been able to hear the sounds of your dry humping session, if not for the collective sounds of the Abbey raising in unison.

It rippled from back where the party was at, came from behind muffled doors, was cried out into the night from the rooftops outside:

"TWENTY . . . NINETEEN . . . EIGHTEEN . . . SEVENTEEN . . ."

The numbers were sharp and sobering. The countdown! The New Year!

"C-Copia," you gulped. You tried to reorient your grasp on the man but the continued rolling of his hips made doing so difficult. Your body continued to bounce, threatening your semblance of mind. Worse still, your body continued to gobble up every sensation and threatened to render you no better than a dumb animal once more.

"Copia, the countdown – " You could feel your thighs beginning to quiver, your stomach beginning to do that telltale clench. Your clit popped demandingly as your petals fluttered in their mess. Without thinking, your hand flew to the back of Copia’s head and snagged at the hair.

The shriek this man made! Not only that, but the hold he had on you: Your tugging had clearly registered to his poor brain that this was a demand – he had to go all out. N o w.

". . . ELEVEN . . . TEN! NINE!"

"C-Cara, amore mio, tesoro mio," he practically choked before his words dissolved into a puddle of Italian and English and a third language you couldn't place. The final time he regained any semblance of coherency, it was only to demand one thing:

"Cum."

It was not rugged in any sense. It was husky, rickety. Desperate. For you and only you.

The leg that had been hoisted instinctively curled around Copia’s tensing backside in an effort to pull him in close and keep him in place. His hips stilled in a frozen thrust, tiny quakes shaking between the both of you in the spot you connected most. A white-hot flood overtook his senses, robbing him of the ability to even utter of moan of completion.

But for you, you still experienced everything in one overwhelming blanket: Stars and fireworks unlike those you'd ever seen on New Years flooded your vision. The final rut of his cock striking against your tender nub was all you could feel shocking your entire body, tingling your fingers and toes to the point of numbness. All you could smell was Copia's cologne mingling with the perfume you'd no doubt mostly sweat away. All you could taste was, yet again, the addicting taste you and Copia had created, as his tongue once again swirled into your mouth with an animalistic groan.

And all you heard was a cluttered chorus:

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!"

The whistling and booming of fireworks roared into the night as distant sounds of cheers and party horns and pots banging pans went off.

They weren't even the first thing you noticed as the waves of your orgasm began to ebb. In fact, even as the familiar sounds and smells of the new year began to wisp into the hallway from windows and passageways alike, all that filled your senses was . . . Copia.

The feel of his warm body slouching against yours, the impact of his orgasm rattling him weary. It was welcoming compared to the sloshed mess he’d been earlier; he hovered as much as himself above you as possible, as though putting his full weight on you in such a state might break you. You noted how his aftershocks caused his hips to reflexively twitch, as though even while overstimulated, his cock still longed to be with you. He grunted softly, quietly every time. The cute little noises and reactions tickled your own sensitive arousal, making your aftershocks vibrate your shivering thighs.

Perhaps egg rolls and party foods weren't what was necessary to sober either party up; perhaps a good old orgasm was exactly what you both needed.

The unfortunate cost, however, was that you now realized the position you both were in. Thank Satan nobody had been in the hallway at any given time. Otherwise, they would've been treated to the image of their dear old Frater Imperator madly humping away in an alcove, cumming at the stroke of midnight, then separating from a fierce tonguing while leaving a strand of spit between both his lips and the lips of his lover.

. . . Wait.

You gulped down some air, trying to even out your still heaving breast. You'd gotten your New Year's Kiss! Sure, it wasn’t the cute, romantic Hallmark movie-style you’d always imagined. But clearly your imagination sucked because this was legions better than anything you could have ever concocted! The absurdity of it all managed to make it through the still evaporating fuzz of your mind. You couldn't help but giggle breathlessly, causing your tired old man to look at you nervously.

"W-what? Is – Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?" he asked, his sobering up giving way to nerves and insecurity.

You tried to catch your breath to form the right words, but Copia couldn't help but babble on even through burning lungs.

"I'm so sorry! I – I was being stupid and horny and – "

"H-happy," you paused to gulp, "new year. Amore mio."

You inhaled just enough to soothe your lungs before leaning in for a kiss. It had much less tongue than most of the ones you'd shared this evening, but it was filled with passion regardless.

You didn't see how his eyes widened with shock, given that your own drooped shut, but you could feel how he quickly got over it just in time to return it. He even trailed after your lips as they separated. You would have gladly met him halfway once more, but you really needed to breathe. Even if the once crisp air had since turned hot and stinking of alcohol and sweat. And faintly of slick.

. . . Y’all really needed to get out of this nook.

You grunted lightly as you moved your thigh down from its perch over Copia's own. While the position had been blissful in the moment, you knew you were probably going to need to sleep on a heating pad tonight. But even before that . . . you were going to need a shower. The slick in your panties was cooling fast in the chilly January air, creating an uncomfortable feeling that squished against your thighs with every movement. Really, a bath was more preferable for such a mess but the communal bathrooms offered no such option.

You winced as you realized how wobbly you now stood even with the wall of the alcove supporting you from falling backwards. That shower was going to be difficult . . .

"U-uh." Your eyes flew up to a now sheepish-looking Copia. The redness on his face and ears no longer came from the rum demon possessing him, but clearly from that cute, almost schoolboyish nature he tended to have whenever it concerned you.

". . . Yes?"

"W-well. If it's okay with you, I – The Imperator Suite!" He paused, realizing he'd probably been a bit too loud. "I mean. The Imperator Suite: It – there is a bathtub. It’s really nice. Gets the best water and. And seeing as we both –  Er, I made us both a mess, I think it's only fair if . . . If –  And only if you're okay with it – If you'd like to maybe clean up . . . with . . . me? And then we can relax and cuddle and . . . "

His voice trailed. He cringed. Eyes screwing shut and all. As though he hadn't just dry humped the bejesus out of you in a hallway where you could've easily been caught.

Damn this adorable man.

You hummed adoringly as you placed a hand to his warm cheek, prompting him to look at your post-orgasmic haze.

"I would really like that, Frater," you assured.

You could have collapsed right then and there was his gloved hand overtook your own in a loving hold before bringing it to his lips for its own kiss.

No, really. You absolutely could have: The final wisps of sexual adrenaline had begun to give dissipate, leaving the full aches and pains of grinding at such an awkward angle (and with your back pressed against a stone wall, no less) to truly kick in. Copia, too, for all that limber hip action was worth, began to feel a dull soreness heat up in the bones.

It was going to be a long trek to the Imperator Suite, you both realized.

But between the hisses of discomfort from wet undergarments, the quiet "ouch"s, and assurances of how he had a stash of Tylenol back in his nightstand drawer, you were still glad for the experience.

Hand in hand, you weren't hobbling into the new year alone.

[irlbop]

Copia can talk shit at and roll his eyes at his pops all he wants — that doesn’t change the fact he’s very much like Papa Nihil. It wasn’t in how he carried himself, definitely not. And it wasn’t in his sexual prowess or even in his showmanship.

No….It was that Copia, much like his father, was a goddamn simp.

Had he been confronted before about what he felt his biggest weakness in a relationship was, he’d probably half-jokingly answer, “Perhaps I can be a bit, eh, too passionate. It’s the romantic in me.”

Well. If what he felt for frivolous flings and brief courtships was passionate, then he hadn’t yet found a word to fully capture just how adoring he was of you. Mainly because when it came to you, his mind was aflame with blazes normally found only in the pits of Hell. In fact, in moments of lucidity, Copia would imagine that that was how they very well got there: Perhaps the Old One scooped them up and placed them inside of him, as a gardener might thoughtfully place a treasured bloom meant to grow into a bushel most brilliant and blazing.

It would make the most sense, after all:

Whenever he gazed upon you, whether you wore your most simple cut of habit or donned your most greasy and stained of relaxation clothing, Copia swore you were meant to portray a second fall of Man.

As though Satanas commissioned your creation, and Asmodeus took special care when carving your form and breathing the fire of life into it.

When you smiled, the inferno inside of his mind and chest would flashover into his cheeks, painting his face nearly as red as his tracksuit. When you giggled at his antics, his heart lurched against the cage of his ribs, begging and pleading to be released so that it might merge with yours. Never to be separated, as one single, throbbing thing. When you scolded him, the fire would travel down low, the smoke rising just enough to cloud his mind and leave him wanting to crawl upon his old knees to beg for your forgiveness. He’d even kiss the tips of the expensive shoes he’d insisted on gifting you; it was the most sensible thing to do, after all.

Primo would chuckle and call it a grotesque version of puppy love; Secondo would sniff and call him a masochist; Terzo would taunt and jeer with accusations of him being pussy-whipped.

And while part of the youngest Emeritus brother wanted to feel embarrassed and assert himself as the strong and competent leader he was meant to portray himself as…If any of them ever had somebody like you, he knew they, too, would fall to your feet in worship.

To beg you to let them be your acolyte, to weep for the privilege of serving you, of servicing you. Ah, but that was Copia’s job and Copia’s honor alone. One he performed most devotedly.

You were created for worship, and he, your sole devotee.

Only unlike his father, he wasn’t going to fuck this up — not when he could imagine fucking only you.

[skellyflowers]

Tour Bus Cuddles

Masterlist

Phantom x reader 

The European leg of the tour has been going fantastic so far. I was excited to be on the road and get the opportunity to travel around. However no one mentioned how hard being a Tour Manager Assistant would be! 

When Phantom dragged me into Brother Kevin’s office to nominate me as the new assistant I thought he was being a clingy boyfriend. He told me that he would miss me. I would miss him too. I was going to work on a schedule for us to still be able to still talk while he was gone. I wasn't expecting this. When Phantom first mentioned Kevin needing an assistant it was during our pillow talk so I didn’t take him too seriously.

I was surprised that Kevin made me his new tour assistant, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was because of how hard headed Phantom is. Kevin has me in charge of checking in the band at any hotel we stay at, ensuring the Green room has what the ghouls need and running last minute errands. 

However this show is in the biggest arena so far. So I have to cover way more ground than before helping the ghouls and completing my pre-show checklist. And to make things more complex two of the main stage speakers have been damaged. Lucky us the crew as backup speakers, they are not as loud but they are just as good. Unfortunately for me that means I need to help load the new speakers off the crew truck and bring them half a mile from the parking lot to the arena. 

When it is time for a sound check I can’t feel my arms and can barely pay attention to what the merch team is telling me. It doesn’t help that Phantom likes to keep me up after shows and work out his leftover adrenaline. I love him and we always have a great time together but it is going to be hard to do my job if I can’t feel both my arms and legs.

I’m in the Green room sitting on the couch when the ghouls come back after they finish the sound check. Phantom closes in on me and sits in my lap like a little cat. He starts to purr like one too. I smile at his actions and start to scratch at one of his horns, he starts to purr even louder.

“I missed you babe.” Phantom says.

“It’s only been 30 minutes, Bat.”

“30 minutes too long.” he pouts, cuddling into my neck.

“GET THAT CUTE SHIT OUT OF HERE!” Dew yells, startling me.

“Shut up, like you aren't going to come to me and beg for attention.” Rain says, rolling his eyes.

Phantom doesn’t get off my lap until it is time for the ghouls to get on stage and Mountain picks him up. We hold hands and walk from the Green Room to backstage and give a kiss before he gets on stage to the screaming crowd.

The show is amazing, just as all the others have been. When the final bow is taken and Papa has said the last goodnight I help the crew take down the stage and pack up so we can get on the road as soon as we can. The process is smooth and we are able to pack up the crew bus in under an hour. A new personal record.

When I get on the ghouls’ bus I am exhausted. I am happy to be the first on the bus tonight. Papa could herd the ghouls perfectly without my help but I felt a little guilty about texting him that I went straight to the bus and crawled into the first unclaimed bunk I found. Ghoul shepherding is part of my job.

I started to fall asleep when I heard the bus door open and close. I hear footsteps shuffle around until they stop in front of the bunk row I am in. I also hear sniffing? The curtain separating me from the mystery ghoul in the bus slowly opens. I’m surprised that I see Phantom, eyes bright and tail wagging.

“This spot taken?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

I let out a quiet giggle and scoot back as much as I can. Phantom gets a big smile on his face and crawls in next to me. He turns my body so he can be the big spoon, his second favorite cuddling position. If it was always up to him I would be laying on top of him at all times. I find his hand and lace our fingers together and he starts purring against my back and plants a kiss on my neck.

“Did you have fun at the concert?” I ask.

“It was fun, Swiss fell off his stage. But I missed you.”

“Maybe if you teach me to play the guitar Papa will add me to the band.” I said as a joke.

“That’s a great idea. We can start tomorrow.”

“You are so silly, Bat.”

“It is a good idea. We could spend more time together.”

“You never leave me alone. You're the reason I got this job.”

“And I will never give you a moment's peace.” He says, giving me a squeeze.

“We can talk about it in the morning.” I say, with a yawn. “Love you Phantom.”

“I love you too, My Angel.” kissing the back of my head.

I let his purring lull me to sleep as the other ghouls get on the bus and settle in for the overnight drive to the next sold out area.

[samhellebore]

“Peacefield, Just for You”

-------

You ask Copia to sing the opening choir of Peacefield

How could he ever refuse you?

-------

It was one of those evenings that carried the quiet kind of stillness only late hours knew how to cradle. The moon hung low, round and drowsy, casting its light through the half-cracked curtains of the Frater Imperator’s quarters. The soft skitters of his rats. A candle burned slowly on the nightstand, its wax pooling patiently like time had nowhere better to be.

You lay curled into Copia’s chest, your ear pressed against the soft fabric of his black shirt, heart syncing gently with the beat of his. His arm was draped around you, his fingers brushing lightly through your hair—absently, lovingly, like he’d done it a hundred times before and would do it a thousand times again.

He smelled like faint incense and his favorite cologne, and something deeper, something older—warm, like pages of a well-read book. You didn’t want to move. The world outside could do whatever it pleased. Here, everything was soft. Safe.

Copia’s voice, when he finally spoke, came like velvet—low and laced with that soft Italian accent that melted the edges of your name. “You still want to hear it?” he asked, like he wasn’t entirely sure he could do it justice.

You nodded against his chest, not wanting to lift your head, only murmuring, “Only if it’s from you.”

He chuckled, a sound like gravel and honey. “Only for you, cara mia.”

There was a pause. A breath. His fingers combed gently behind your ear, and then he began to hum, soft and slow, almost reverent. He wasn’t trying to perform—not like onstage. This was just for you, only for you, and that made it so much more.

Then, his voice wove around the room, threading its way into your heart:

“Pieces of what could have been…”

He held you a little closer as he sang, like those words were meant to keep the broken things at bay. You could feel the rumble of his chest beneath your cheek, the way the song lived in him even now.

“Pieces of a shattered dream…”

There was sorrow in it, but no bitterness. Just understanding. Empathy. A quiet kind of healing that settled into your bones like warmth from a fire after a storm.

“Child, take your dark memories…”

Copia’s hand moved slowly, stroking your hair like he was easing the weight of every memory you’d never wanted to keep. The ones that still lingered in the corners of your mind.

“Like seeds, and plant them far from here…”

He paused a moment, letting the silence echo just a little longer. Then came the part that felt like a spell—a blessing in song.

“Sow them…”

His voice was so gentle now, like wind through wheat fields.

“Feed them…”

The candle’s flame swayed faintly, like it too leaned in to listen.

“Through shine and rain…”

Copia’s voice wrapped around you like a wool blanket, every word a thread pulling you closer to something warm, something kind.

“Your love…”

His lips pressed into your hair now. You felt him smile, faint but real.

“Will be…”

The moment stretched, delicate as glass, and you closed your eyes.

“Born again.”

And just like that, the song lingered, drifting gently into the candlelight.

He didn’t say anything for a while, just rested his cheek against the top of your head, his fingers never stopping their slow, soothing path through your hair.

When you finally spoke, your voice was barely more than breath. “That was beautiful…”

“I meant every word,” he whispered into your hair. “You… You deserve to have your heart born again, amore. As many times as it takes.”

You nestled in closer, and he welcomed you without a word, just the curve of his arms and the steady rhythm of his breathing. The rest of the world didn’t matter now. Only this did—his voice still echoing softly in your soul, and the way his presence held every piece of you like they were never broken at all.

Here, in the warmth of his arms and the hush of candlelight, you believed him.

And you slept like a seed beneath spring soil—safe, still, waiting for the bloom.

------

This turned a little too emotional in the end, but hey, I think we all found our peace in Copia in some kind of way. Also, if it feels a little awkward, that might be true because I barely write 'you' type of writing anymore. A lovely thank you to @/ghostnyran on Twitter for this sweet idea, I wasn't feeling all too well, but writing this made it a bit better! So please do go check out her on Twitter, she has brilliant other things on there.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this because, uuuh, I have some more ideas as well.

[katz-rambles]

Hellooo again lovely writer ! This is a new day, so it means I have a new idea for you ;)

How about reader and one of the ghoul (your choice) being forced to shared a bed ? And now, what if reader had a spicy dream during the night and woke the ghoul sleeping next to her with her moans ? How would they react? 👀

The one-bed-trope, some forced proximity and a sprinkle of unresolved sexual tension, how could it go wrong !

Yess! I love the one bed trope smm. This may not be very good as I'm exhausted, haha. I chose Sodo/Dewdrop because this just seemed fitting for him.

1.1k words

(nsfw, wet dream, fingering, PiV, squirting, cumming inside, aftercare,)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

Sharing a room with someone, that's not too bad. You're not a stranger to sharing rooms with people, just not a room with one bed, especially not with someone you can't stop thinking about. You've read this in romance books but when it happens in real life you want to scream. This is not going as planned.

“There's only one bed,” You groan and place your bag on the floor, looking around for a couch or something that you could sleep on.

“Aww, you don't want to be close to me?” Sodo teases you, a smirk on his lips. You already know this is going to be a long night. You're tempted to pick your bag up and throw it right in his smug face.

“No,” You sigh and glare at him. You're already done with his shit and it's not even midnight yet. You stare at the bed and, for a second, you hope you can somehow mitosis the bed into creating another one. Yet it never does. Maybe you can trade rooms with someone, but everyone else is probably already asleep or trying to get to sleep so it would be pointless to try.

“Well, sweetheart, if you're not going to then I'm going to shower. No peeking,” Sodo snickers and goes into the bathroom. Maybe you will throw your bag at him. The water turning on pulls you from your thoughts, now you have to wait until he's done to get into more comfortable clothes, great.

—

The bed is a lot softer than you thought it would have been, for a shitty motel that is. You're laying on the bed on your stomach scrolling mindlessly on your phone when you feel the bed dip beside you. When you look over at Sodo you immediately regret it, not because he's ugly or anything, but because you're afraid you won't be able to look away, he's wearing some lose pajama bottoms and a thin shirt that basically leaves nothing to the imagination, his blonde hair is down and still damp from his shower that perfectly complements his charcoal skin. For a second you don't want to look away, trying to forever have this image in your head.

“Take a picture, sweetheart, it'll last longer,” He smirks when you realize you've been caught, he's enjoying watching you stumble over your words to find a response. “Shut up,” You snap at him, but your voice isn't harsh enough for you to actually be mad. You turn off your phone and pull the covers over yourself, the heat radiating from Sodo is enough to cook you alive so you ditch the idea and take them off almost as quick as you put them on. Thankfully, sleep comes quickly to you tonight.

—

“So good for me.. fuck.. so tight too,” Sodo growls into your ear and his thrusts don't stop or slow down. His face is buried in your neck and he groans when he feels you clench around him. You reach up to tug on his hair and he moans into your neck when you do. His hand goes down to rub your clit and he almost whines.

“Fuck! Sodo, please don't stop!” You cry and your back arches slightly, your hips move to try and match his unrelenting pace. You can feel the coil in your core getting tighter and tighter, and just as it's about to snap you get woken up to the feeling of being shook.

You're panting and you rub your eyes when you're fully conscious. “What?” You groan and look over at Sodo, internally hoping you didn't make any noise or you'll be done for. Your next words get caught in your throat when you fully take in his current appearance, he definitely heard you, his pupils are blown wide and he's biting his bottom lip, there's a bit of sweat on his forehead that causes some of his hair to stick to it, even through the darkness of the room you can make out the bulge in his pants.

“Sorry to wake you, but I can't help myself,” He groans and moves his face closer to yours, in a second you reach up and pull him down to kiss him. If you weren't already turned on, you are now. He grinds his erection onto your thigh and he pants into the kiss. When he breaks it you both know what to do, you grab your shirt and pull it off as he does the same, and he helps you get off your shorts and panties and he kisses you once again.

“Already.. so… wet,” He gasps between kisses and presses a finger into your folds and teases your clit. You whimper and he smirks and eagerly kisses your neck. You run your fingers through his hair and tug gently, this elicits a noise from Sodo that could make you cum on the spot. He presses a finger inside you and starts to pump them in and out, curling them up to press your sweet spot and you moan, a little too loud but neither of you care right now. He brings his head back up to your lips and kisses you again, he pulls his pants and boxers down and thrusts into you.

“Oh fuck. Does it feel as good as it did in your little dream?” He chuckles when you whine and turn your head away. “Shut up and fuck me.” You groan and he complies, his thrusts are deep and quick, yet he manages to find your sweet spot once again.

With every thrust his pelvis grinds against your clit causing you to moan.

“So fuckin’ tight..” He growls and grabs your thighs to lift them up around his waist, getting deeper than before. You can feel your orgasm approaching and from the moan he lets out so can he. Your walls tighten around him and he whines at the feeling. You can feel a gush of wetness from the noises he's making, you both already know that the rest of the band is going to kill you both from the noises you two are making but you both couldn't care less. You reach down to rub your clit and you feel the coil in your core get tighter.

“Fuck! Sodo.. please ‘m close,” You whimper through your pants and he speeds his thrusts up a bit, determined to make you cum. You wrap your legs around him and pull him closer to you and you feel a gush of wetness when you cum and he moans when you do. His thrusts don't slow as he gets closer and he cums deep inside you.

You're both panting and sweaty when he falls on top of you. “That was better than the dream,” You both laugh and he rolls off you. “Let's get cleaned up,” He picks you up and brings you to the bathroom.

Let's just say that the rest of the band will make sure you and Sodo never share a room again.

[cowboyemeritus]

i do love how we're collectively characterizing perpetua (for the time being) as the quiet type BUT i think he should make up for it by being an avid sexter

You've just barely dozed off when your phone pings. You recognize Perpetua's text tone and perk up immediately, reaching for the device on your night stand. The screen comes on, washing you in blinding light, and you grimace. That's not going to disrupt your sleep cycle at all. Definitely not.

Hope you're not asleep yet.

You smile to yourself. It's a little more eloquent than a "u up?," but you know the intent is the same.

i was close

i'd much rather be talking to you tho

The blood is pumping now. No way you're falling asleep any time soon.

You flatter me, darling.

Already, your room feels stiflingly hot. You kick off your comforter, putting your next attack into motion.

figured i could stroke your ego in lieu of something else ;)

He starts typing, stops for a moment, and then starts again.

Straight to the point.

I like that about you.

You roll onto your stomach, kicking your feet. He's so reserved in person, so it's exciting, exotic, when he gets like this.

oh yeah? what else do you like about me?

What is he doing right now? Is he in bed, like you? Maybe he's fresh out of the shower, stripped of his mask and paints, clad in nothing but a towel. Maybe he's completely naked. The thought makes your mouth water.

Definitely your humility.

You chuckle, rolling your eyes.

That beautiful body is a close second, though.

Heat rises to your cheeks. You twist your legs together, the slight pressure sending a tremor down your spine. Wetness is gathering at your center already.

i've been told i've got some nice ankles

You couldn't resist. It brings you joy, pushing his buttons like this.

You think you're so funny.

i'm hilarious >:)

You should know better than to tease your new leader.

Ah, so he's pulling rank. You're in for a treat.

what are you gonna do about it, Your Dark Excellence? throw me in the dungeon? sic your ghouls on me?

You would just love that, wouldn't you?

they like to fuck, right?

He spends a prolonged period of time typing, and for a moment you worry you've put him off.

Like the animals they are, but they know you're mine.

It makes your heart throb and your pussy flutter at the same time. A devious idea pops into your brain. You peel off your baggy t-shirt, push your breasts together, and quickly snap a picture. Biting your lip, you press send.

you're right. all this is yours, papa

For a solid minute, there are no signs of life from Perpetua. It fills you with a smug satisfaction, knowing a simple titty pic can affect him so dramatically. He talks a big game, but at the end of the day, he's as weak for you as you are for him.

Just look at what you've done.

You lick your lips when the picture appears on screen. He's got his cock in hand, fully erect and flushed the prettiest shade of pink. The foreskin is completely pulled back, revealing the full bell shape of the tip, a bead of precum, like a pearl, oozing from it. Recalling the taste of him, you clench your thighs together, feeling your heartbeat between them.

fuck it looks so good

i wanna suck you off so bad

With the mental image of those silver claws twisting into your hair, your hand slinks downwards, creeping into your underwear. You quickly find your clit, drawing slow, lazy circles around it. You're in no hurry to finish this, not when it's just getting good.

You would do anything for it.

You've already done a few heinous things for dick, and he knows that.

pretty much

I bet you're fucking soaked just thinking about my cock in your mouth.

Seeing his composure start to slip, you grin, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You eye the time, tempted to take this further. It's fucking late though, already close to midnight, and you need to be up at 6:00 tomorrow morning.

The temptation is too great. Fuck work.

you know

i'm just down the hall

you could come find out

There's a pause. He's considering it. You hold your breath when it shows that he's typing again.

Be there in 5.

[papathe5th]

“I’ve got something for you.”

Papa V Perpetua breathed against the sweet spot behind your ear, the small strip of your skin the light never shines upon, but his silver tongue slides against. And you barely made up the words that he breathed behind you, with your heartbeat being loud in your eardrums and all. Though your eyes were rolled into the back of your skull and your head was reclined on his shoulder, he made you look at his gift for you.

“Is that a—”

“Collar,” he nipped the nape of your neck, his teeth barely scraping the skin. It made you shiver nonetheless, and so did the sight of the thick black leather he presented to you.

He let you stroke the inside of it. The studs spelled out PAPA V and were sure to imprint on your throat once tightened. You choked before Papa pressed the collar against your feverish flesh, and you present him with your throat before he even spoke the words.

“I want you to keep it on until I come back to take it off.”

[juttytaylorsmustache]

Mountain doodle, needed to practice contour :) Ok but if we’re being honest it was using the art advice I’ve been milking from @blanchebees 🖤

Wanna see more? Join my ghost discord (18+) with 80 other ghesties -> here

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST OR USE WITHOUT ASKING

[aestheticpearl]

— ‘you’ve got to press it on you.’

characters. dewdrop, rain, swiss, mountain, phantom

themes. SMUT

[warnings] smut, blood, biting, dacryphilia, size kink, corruption kink, light choking, mirror sex, spanking

[gender neutral reader]

ghoulettes

a/n: they’re ghouls, read at your own risk

➳ dewdrop

he def fucks with a PASSION

very accommodating

if you want to go slow, he’ll go slow

if you want it rough, he’ll be rough

he can be whatever you’d like, praise or degradation

‘oh yeah, that’s it baby— fuck you really know how to move, where’d you learn that hm? you fucking the other ghouls?’

POWER BOTTOM

i said what i said

dew loves to watch you ride him

and he loves to hold your hips to guide your movements

it’s definitely his favorite position

he doesn’t mind topping tho

this ghoul will mark you up until your neck is painted in your own blood

he’ll lick it up cause he love how sweet you taste

“such a pretty thing covered in your own blood and my cum, fuck you turn me on.”

you lay breathlessly on top of the ghoul as he pets your head. you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum, your mind fuzzy and fucked out.

“few more rounds yeah?” dewdrop states moving so he’s now on top of you.

he slips himself back inside you with little effort, using his own cum that’s on you as a lubricant.

you groan into your pillow at the stretch of him. no matter how many times you do it, it still burns in the best way possible.

“that’s it, you’re so good at taking my dick.” he says before leaning over to bite your shoulder.

➳ rain

he doesn’t fuck

he makes love

and he’s so good at it

gives the BEST head

he would stay between your legs for hours if you’d let him

shower sex

y’all are always fuckin in the shower or in some kind of water

oddly enough he’s not a fan of bath sex

the water splashes on the floor and you almost slipped because of it one time

shamelessly loud moans

he breathes heavily after he cums that’s so hot holy fuck

he’ll definitely thank you while cumming

‘thankyouthankyouthankyou— hgnnn i love you so much’

loves to make out with you while he’s inside you

he’s def cried after sex cause it felt so good but don’t tell anyone that

your lips are starting to go numb because of the heavy make out session between the both of you. it almost distracts you from the slow but skilled rolling of his hips into yours. almost.

“you feel so good around me, satan i love you so much.” rain says before moving back into the kiss and pinning you more up against the shower wall.

the water pours down both of your bodies and something about it just absolutely does it for rain.

“you look so amazing like this, soaking wet while i drill my cock into you.” he moans.

➳ swiss

kinky bastard

degradation king

but like his aftercare is amazing so it’s fine

corruption kink

fav position is doggy

loves shoving your face into a pillow while he plows you from behind

also likes to lean down and yank you up so he can hold your neck

has marked you everywhere

needs to let everyone know you’re his

‘you’re mine, don’t forget that’

almost bit a major artery in your leg

ALMOST

there was a lot of blood but it’s okay cause you didn’t die and it only turned him on more

he will try any angle that feels good

he MAKES you flexible

this bitch definitely growls

LOVES to make you watch how he disappears inside you

def has a mirror next to his bed

“look at how good i fuck you.” swiss grips your face and makes you turn to look at yourself in the mirror next to him bed. “look at how well your slutty hole takes me ahh fucking whore for my cock.”

you let out a pathetic whimper that makes swiss chuckle as he pushes your head back into the mattress.

“keep your eyes on me.” he whispers in your ear as he holds the back of your neck. he plants a swift smack on your ass before rubbing his hand over it gently to soothe the sting.

“good play thing.”

➳ mountain

he knows his size

he also knows how to use it

OH LORD

he is so gentle tho

a little scared he’ll hurt you

he also can’t degrade you

he tried and HE ended up crying

loves how he towers over your body

can and will man handle you which means he will fuck you everywhere he can

the wall, the bathroom, the practice room

everywhere

loves the thrill of getting caught

‘shhh baby you don’t want us to get caught do you?’

he loves when you’re vocal, since he kinda just grunts and groans

mountain lifts your leg gently for better access and you can’t help but moan loudly before his hand covers your mouth and he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“so loud, i’m starting to think you want someone to catch us pretty thing.”

your eyes squeeze shut as your body is hit with another wave of pleasure as you feel mountain’s free hand take yours to guide it down your chest and stop at your abdomen before pressing down.

“i’m right here, you feel that?”

➳ phantom

i love phantom i do but he’s younger and doesn’t have as much as experience as the other ghouls

that being said

he focuses a little too much on himself but

HE WHIMPERS

‘ah fuck’

he loves holding you close to him while thrusting into you

doesn’t pull out all the way, he kind of just jerks into you really fast

lil jackhammer

he learns how to make you feel good from your guidance

likes when you communicate how you feel during sex

he likes seeing you cry but only because it feels good

he doesn’t like hurting you

bites you but not hard enough to draw blood

he likes praising you

very possessive

phantom places gentle kisses over the fresh indent of his teeth on your neck while holding onto you for dear life.

“such a good little thing for me nghh so tight, all mine.”

you’ll admit he was going a little too fast for it to feel good on you end, that was until you adjusted your hips and he started hitting a certain spot that had your legs shaking.

phantom takes notice of this almost immediately.

“i hit your sweet spot didn’t i?”

“p-phantom i need to you slow down and keep that angle.” your eyes are practically rolling back into your head at this point as he listens to your instructions.

“fuck you’re squeezing me so tight.”

please reblog to show support ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

feral i’ve gone feral you guys

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

[sink-me-in-your-ocean]

𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔥 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰

How would the Ghouls (AND Copia) react to seeing you surprise them with lingerie?

Prompt by the miraculous @endhisbloodlineinmyesophagus

NSFW/Suggestive below the cut.

Copia:

Blushes profusely

This man is so flustered he can barely form a word, let alone speak a sentence

That doesn’t stop him from acting, though

He puts his greedy gloved hands on your body the second his mind can catch up to what’s happening

He’s torn between a state of disbelief and a state of unholy fuck I need to put my hands on this woman right now or I’ll die

“You are ravishing, cara mia.”

“Grazie mille, Papa.”

“But those straps, are they digging into your skin? I’d be happy to take you out of them.” 

“It’s actually surprisingly comfortable.”

“Good, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t dying to have you while you wear that.”

-

Swiss:

Grins at you like a madman when you reveal yourself to him

He tries to hide it but he’s so into it

The fact that you put in all this effort to fasten straps, tie ribbons, and put yourself on such a perfect display has him weak

He has an intense urge to fall to the floor and worship at your feet, as he feels unworthy of such a goddess

“All of this effort, for me? I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised you’d do something like this.”

“Well, it’s not just for me.”

“Hm?”

You produce a long silk ribbon that matches your lingerie, “This is for you. You can unwrap me and then I get to tie you up.”

He groans, “You’re fucking perfect.”

-

Phantom:

Can’t. Think. Heart. Having. Palpitations.

His dark eyes go so wide as he sees you all dressed up

His jaw is on the floor too

He runs a slightly trembling hand through his thick locks and unashamedly checks you out (not trembling out of nervousness, from sheer excitement)

“Oh, fuck me.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Get over here you little minx, you’re mine, you hear me?” 

“Are you going to undress me?”

“You know I don’t have the patience; I’m fucking you in that now.”

-

Dewdrop/Sodo:

His first thought is to mark you; he is overcome with the need to bite you and suck on your exposed skin immediately

Practically tears out of his own clothes at the sight of you presenting yourself for him

He needs you carnally

He’s fucking feral for you

“You wanted my attention, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Well I’ll give you points for all of this. But I’ll have to punish you too.”

“For what?”

“For walking around wearing this, anyone could have seen you. No, no, I’m not going to be finished with you until you can’t walk, siren.”

-

Rain:

Has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting out the first obscene thing that pops in his brain

You got him, you got him good

He doesn’t care for surprises but this one is a winner

His eyes can’t drink you in fast enough, flicking his gaze over your breasts, your thighs, and your ass as you turn for him

“Wow.”

“That’s it?”

“I can’t say the other things I’m thinking, I’m pretty sure I’d get arrested.”

“I’ll take ‘wow’ then.”

“Oh you’ll be taking a lot more than that.”

-

Mountain:

Literally astonished when you show him what you’re wearing 

Utterly hypnotized by the curves of your body done up by lace

Hands start twitching like a crazed addict

He needs to touch you

“Get. Over. Here.”

“Right now?”

“Right fucking now. Either that or I come over there and pin you against that wall.”

“Hmmm…”

“The wall it is.”

-

Cirrus:

Goes from zero to one hundred in a snap

Can’t decide where she wants to look, placing you in front of a floor length mirror for her own pleasure

She is happy to stand back and watch you pose for her

Eventually she gets antsy, fingers tingling with need to touch you

“Need attention, do we?”

“I have some for you too, love.”

“You do?”

“Just for you.” You hand her a black tissue-wrapped package.

“Matching sets? What are we, in a band?”

-

Cumulus:

Purses her lips in satisfaction

Tries to keep herself from smiling, she’s trained you well

Extra points for you sitting on the floor so submissively

Something inside her calls to put her mouth on you, mark you all over with her dark lipstick

“Stand and me a twirl.”

You oblige her.

“What a good girl. Shall I give you a treat?”

“Yes, please.”

She opens the top drawer of the dresser and starts laying out the treats she plans on using on you. You’ve been good indeed.

-

Aurora/Sunshine:

Squeals in delight upon seeing you

You’d think it was her birthday the way she reacted to you

That doesn’t stop a mischievous grin from spreading on her face though

She wants to see you put on other things she’s had tucked away for special occasions 

“This one is next!”

“Haven't you found your favorite yet?”

“Nope.”

“No?”

“My favorite is you wearing nothing at all, gorgeous, I just wanted to see how many different pairs I could get you to put on before you beg me to take them off you.”

-

[theshortstack]

something about masked men…like damn

I would let them run me over for fun

Still learning about these so

[ficandkaboodle]

Okay so like. There was this one band led by this wicked talented singer — shut up, the name’s not important! Anyway!

The singer was just on the cusp of hitting it big when he got into an accident. Horrible accident, face all bloody, they say he lost an eye. Now, it was probably just shit luck or a shitty car. But also I’ve heard people say it was no accident — that, like, his band members had something to do with it like I guess maybe he was acting like a cocky dick because he was hot shit or something. Or there’s also a rumor he was threatening to leave the label so the manager had something to do with it.

…I dunno, dude, it’s not my job to know how this stuff works, I’m just relaying you shit. BUT ANYWAY!!!

So there he is: Laying in the middle of the road, face fucked up and he’s dying, right? Anger in his heart for being denied his big break, he made a pact with the Devil. And the deal was that if Satan gave him a second chance, he’d spend the rest of his infernal life offering the Dark Lord souls.

The Devil liked the sound of that, so he fixed most of his face, gave him a special eye to help him better locate the best souls, and fixed up his voice so that it’d be even better than before.

So now the revived star lurks in shadows and dreams, stalking victims and seducing souls with his powerful and hypnotic voice and his good looks before he sends them to Hell…

Oh and by the by? He likes virgins the most: Their screams sound the best, and it brings him back to when he was on top of the world — and on top of them. Hence the name,

The Virgin-Killer

You stare at Ronnie, only breaking eye contact as you slowly blinked. For fuck’s sake, you only stopped in for a Big Gulp and some snacks, not to have the pothead gas station attendant regale you with tales of some zombie rocker.

Still, a part of you somewhat commended him: Everyone else changed how they acted around you. But not Reeferman Ronnie. He was the same weirdass he’d been since high school, whenever that was.

You gave your slushee an unimpressed slurp.

“M’kaayyy…And you’re telling me this becaaauusseee?” you inquired.

At this, Ronnie shrugged. “‘S about that time of year.”

“What, Halloween? It’s every year.”

“Nah.” This time, he shook his greasy head. “Hunter’s Moon. It’s when the Virgin-Killer gets into, like, a frenzy.”

Okaaayyy time to go. You gave him a non-committed nod and slid your change off the counter.

“You have a good one, Ronnie,” you uttered as you made your way to the door. As it beeped upon being opened, however, you heard him call out:

“Listen out for weird music.”

You froze, letting the chilled October air in and the smell of cigarettes and sweaty hotdogs out.

“Or don’t listen, I dunno, it’s weird,” Ronnie trailed. When you turned to look at him, you recognized not an expression of knowing something, but more so just that of someone thinking harder than what their brain had the capacity to commit to.

“What?” you asked.

For the umpteenth time in however many minutes, the pothead shrugged.

“The music thing: They say when you start hearing weird music, it means he’s comin’ atcha.”

You didn’t feel the cold wetness of your cup in your palm anymore. In fact, you’d only just caught your grip closing in on it just in time.

You’d had enough of this. You just. Wanted. A Big Gulp.

“Goodnight, Ronnie,” you said again, firmly. You made sure to close the door before you could catch anything else the local wack job had to say.

You couldn’t get back into your car quick enough before you slammed it shut and pressed your head against the headrest.

In the quiet of the car, you heard nothing. Nothing but your own mind, fumbling over words, replaying what Ronnie had said. Replaying what Nessa had said at the beginning of the month.

You let a few notes slip in before giving them a paranoid pause. Superstition had never been the most impressionable thing on you, but that dumb and vulnerable part of you told you to take it easy. Just in case.

But on the other hand, the tune she tried to him to you when inquired was one of the only things you had left of her. You felt entitled to those notes, however odd or off-key it might’ve been in Nessa’s shaky voice when she’d uttered them to you.

…A disgruntled scoff and the slam oh your fist rattled both the silence and your clunker of a car.

You just! Wanted! A Big Gulp! Well, you had your damn Big Gulp. So now you could go home.

With the key turned in the ignition, Old Betty growled to life. Homeward bound.

You fiddled with the dial of the radio to clear the silence before landing on something definitely not weird or unfamiliar.

“Hungry Like the Wolf” rumbled out of Betty’s seams as you drove into the night. From now on, you weren’t stopping at that 711.

(I thought I’d play around with The Idea 🫣)