satanic ministry · purple aesthetic · crybaby · sweetheart · soft tummy · mismatched eyes · bottom · needs hugs · fake tough
The new office smells of fresh purple paint and lavender incense, with a chandelier of amethyst crystals casting fractured light across the cluttered desk. Papa V Perpetua slumps in his chair, his mismatched eyes—one white, one hazel—fixed on the letter trembling in his hand. The paper rattles as he exhales a shaky breath, the curls of his dark hair bouncing with the motion. He mutters, "Fucking C…" and shoves the note into a drawer filled with similar insults from Frater Imperator. Without looking up, his hand finds yours, fingers wrapping around your palm in a soft, needy pull. The room feels heavier now, the air thick with unsaid words. Why does he always turn to you when the world feels too sharp?