#Erik Destler x Reader

[sunshine-for-serotonin]

I was wondering how Erik would react to his Beloved while ovulating or being clingy ect due to lack of sleep? (You don’t have to that’s totally up to you!!)

Headcannons, let’s go~ TMI, but it’s my ovulation week so that’s what you’re getting :) but don’t worry, you’re both clingy afterwards.

Oh boy, poor, poor Erik-

While Erik is a true polymath and has extensive knowledge on anatomy and science, he’s never actually had a partner to know what ovulation is like first hand.

However, as true as that may be, he’s going to be all over you as soon as you make any implication of having a need, whether that be to make love to him or even for just some chocolates or cuddle time.

You’ll find him nervously hovering over you, his hands flitting about as though scared to touch you until they come to gently hold your hands for about five seconds before he starts fussing again.

He’s so, so, so incredibly sweet, fretting over you, your needs, and your comfort obsessively. Sometimes you have to put on that tone of voice and tell him to sit back and relax for a bit. Maybe you sit by him on his organ bench as he writes music and plays the keys to try and help calm him down.

Erik is incredibly desperate to please, but you may find that he is one of this partners who’s very like “it’s not uteri, it’s uterus”, so expect him to match your horny levels as best he can. (Keep in mind he’s older and doesn’t have nearly as much stamina, you’ll have to kind of pace things throughout the day if you want to pull more than four orgasms from him).

You know that white goopy stuff that gets mixed in with your normal discharge? Don’t expect any fear of it from him. Erik knows it’s natural, and will still gladly go down on you like you’re his favorite meal anytime, any day. (Because, let’s be real now, you very much are).

He actually finds the difference in your taste fascinating, and you’ll find that he eats you out much more voraciously when you’re ovulating.

Expect Erik to extremely in tune with how you’re feeling physically. If your breasts are a bit tender or sore, you can expect that this will be one of the only times you can really keep him from latching. Of course, even if you can’t handle him nursing, he’s more than happy to gently cup your breasts and massage them for you. He’d actually probably explode though if you asked him to use lotion or anything.

As mentioned previously, Erik is overly eager to please and down to tend to your every need. He has absolutely no problem getting on top and doing classic missionary or something similar, rutting into you as the most musical little whines and moans leave his malformed lips.

You do have to remind him he can’t come inside during this week though. He’s normally very good at respecting that rule, but on occasion he finds himself getting so overwhelmed that he cums out of nowhere, thick hot ropes of white spurting inside of you and filling you to the brim as he keens and tears wind down his ruined cheeks.

Of course, you must have pity on him. He won’t be anywhere near able to keep up with you, and you really have to hammer it into his skull that it’s necessary for him to tell you when he needs a break and that you realize you’re borderline insatiable in this state so he needn’t overdo himself.

Of course he’s going to try to anyway though.

Please reassure him that he’s adequate enough and that anyone would be hard pressed to keep up with you in this state, he really does feel horrible for feeling like he can’t make you come or please you enough.

This and when you’re on your monthly are occasions where he simply won’t budge on handling aftercare duties, and he’ll wail if you try to take care of him instead of you letting him take care of you for once.

Erik goes for the full works. Bath, chocolates, he makes you your favorite meals throughout the week and always makes excess in case you find your appetite increased. He even pulls out a stunning nightgown made of the most comfortable material money can buy that he literally made from scratch for when you just want to be comfy or are getting ready for sleep.

And of course once you’re properly taken care of and sated, Erik loves nothing more than to lay down in your arms, curled up against your chest as you both drift off with the dreams of seeing each other tomorrow all over again.

[hotpinkboots]

[n1ght0f-nyx]

The Face I Cherish

erik destler x reader

i lost the request by my own stupidity but the basic plot was that one part in the phantom of the opera books, where erik reveals his face to Christine (in this fic, reader) he says something along the lines of 'im a handsome man, arent i", in this version, reader shows him love instead of hatred

tags/warnings- slowish burn, tender angsty fluff

word count- 672 words divider by- floriseu

Erik stood before me, the darkness of the candlelit room casting long, jagged shadows on the stone walls. His breath was ragged, as if he had fought to reveal his face, a battle within himself against a lifetime of torment and disgust. Slowly, with shaking hands, he reached up and tore the mask from his face.

His disfigurement was exposed—half of his face twisted and scarred, the flesh marred by a cruel fate. The other half, though, was breathtakingly beautiful: sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, and piercing eyes that flickered with an intensity I had never seen before. He glared at me, challenging me, waiting for my inevitable recoil.

“You see?” His voice wavered, a mixture of bitterness and vulnerability. “Look upon me and behold the monster I truly am.”

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My heart ached for him, for the man who had spent his life hiding behind shadows and masks. His expression darkened as he mistook my silence for disgust.

“I’m a handsome man, aren’t I?” he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, mocking his own reflection. He was daring me to lie, to pretend, to do anything but look at him for who he was.

But I didn’t see the hideousness he expected me to recoil from. Instead, I saw the years of loneliness, the pain etched into every scar, and the desperation for love in his eyes. Without thinking, I took a step forward, my hands trembling but not from fear. His sharp inhale was audible, but I ignored it. I reached out, my fingers gently cupping his face—both the unmarred side and the scarred side, treating them both with the same tenderness.

“Yes, you are,” I whispered softly, my thumbs brushing over the rough patches of skin, feeling the warmth beneath them.

Erik froze. His whole body went rigid, as if my touch was something foreign, something he didn’t know how to comprehend. His wide eyes met mine, searching for some hint of cruelty or pity, but there was none.

“You are beautiful, Erik,” I continued, leaning closer. “Not because of this—” I gently touched the scarred side of his face, “—or this—” I moved to trace the smooth lines of the other side. “But because of who you are.”

His lips parted, a sharp intake of breath that he seemed to choke on. His hands hovered in the air, unsure whether to push me away or pull me closer.

Before he could decide, I leaned in, pressing my lips to his forehead, just between the ridges of his scar. His skin was warm under my lips, and I could feel him trembling beneath my touch.

I moved to kiss the side of his face, planting soft, lingering kisses along the jagged lines of his scars, treating them with the same reverence I gave to the unmarred parts of him. “You are beautiful, Erik,” I repeated, the words punctuated with each gentle kiss.

Erik’s breath hitched. He stood still, as if he didn’t know how to react, as if my affection was something he had never imagined could be real. Slowly, tentatively, his hands found my wrists, holding me as though I might vanish if he let go.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” I murmured, my lips moving to his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “You never had to.”

His grip on my wrists tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might pull away, retreat back into the shadows of his mind. But instead, he leaned into my touch, a soft, broken sound escaping him—a sound that was almost like a sob.

“You don’t understand…” he whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking. “I am a monster.”

“No,” I said firmly, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “You are a man, Erik. A man who deserves to be loved.”

For a moment, his eyes searched mine, filled with disbelief, vulnerability, and something that looked like hope—a hope he had long buried. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine. His hands slid down to my waist, holding me as though I were his lifeline.

“I don’t know how…” he whispered, his voice trembling, “to accept that.”

“You don’t have to know right now,” I replied softly, brushing my lips over his in the lightest of kisses. “Just know that it’s true.”

For the first time since he revealed his face to me, Erik didn’t try to hide. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he held me tighter, his scarred face pressed against mine, as if in that moment, he finally believed that he was worthy of love.

[willows-escape]

Symbolic - 1990!Erik x Reader - Part 2 (m)

Pairing - Erik (1990! Charles Dance) x (Female) Reader

Summary - the last hurdle in your relationship had finally been crossed and erik no longer felt the need to hide such a pivotal aspect of himself away from you anymore. but now all the barriers had fallen and the mask was removed, there was one last thing you craved. and erik, for some reason, was very against participating.

Warnings - erik having major moodswings, apologies and forgiveness, poor self esteem, possessiveness, accidental mask slip, erik panicking, sexual and innocent teasing, teeth rotting fluff, victorian purity culture and potentially misinformed discussions of christianity (oops), y/n knows what she wants and she wants it now, reader isn’t particularly chubby or skinny just average size, virginity loss, breast play, hand jobs (m receiving), unintentional edging, continuous position changing, penetrative sex, unprotected sex because the victorians did not vibe with condoms

Word Count - 9,668

Notes - this is the final part of this little 'twoshot.' i think this is a nice place to wrap it up and end it and move on to make even more erik content because god knows we are all starved. god bless.

feedback is appreciated :) good or bad

01 / 02 (you're here!)

You were not exaggerating when you mentioned that the statues required cleaning. Specks of dust covered every surface of the different fabrics and metals of the stolen display pieces. You couldn't remember the last time you saw Erik dusting them.

You spent a good two hours meticulously cleaning those statues, keeping yourself occupied. A wave of guilt settled deep within your chest as you reminisced about the events that had transpired before your hasty departure. It had been overwhelming for you - the emotional outpouring and the astonishment of finally seeing Erik's face had struck you hard. Not to mention when you recklessly flung yourself onto him, as if devoid of any semblance of control over your own limbs. You were overcome by a sense of foolishness. In that moment, you believed it was the only choice available to you: to fabricate an excuse and flee from his presence.

Your heart constricted as if it were tightly bound by an unforgiving rope, mercilessly pulling and yanking as you sat consumed by your ruminations. The weight of guilt intensified as you contemplated the depth of Erik's sentiments, the vulnerability he had bared before you. Desperately, you tried your best to suppress these thoughts, reminding yourself that you needed time for introspection, or you’d risk an emotional outburst. Yet deep within, you recognized that you ought to have known better, should have conducted yourself with greater propriety. If only you had summoned the courage to articulate your overwhelming emotions and request a moment of solitude, all of this could have been averted. Regret washed over you as you comprehended that you had needlessly transformed a simple circumstance into a tangled web of emotions and uncertainty.

It was quick approaching five o'clock, the time Erik would usually call out to you and say that he was off to gather things for your afternoon meal as you didn't have anywhere to hygienically store food in the little lagoon. You'd not seen him since the time you'd spent in your bedroom, so you mustered all your hope and prayed that he'd show himself to you so that you could vehemently apologise and beg for his forgiveness.

It took a little while longer than five o'clock, but your lover finally emerged from hiding. Your ears perked up, and your hair stood on end as the sound of footsteps approached from behind. They came to a halt not far from where you crouched, and you held your breath, your hands trembling as you continued to wipe down the statue. You found yourself fixated on a minuscule crevice in the metal, desperately endeavouring not to startle him away. The apprehension within you grew stronger with each passing second.

"It seems you're more infatuated with the statues than you are with me," Erik finally said from behind you.

You huffed in amusement, a smile finally reappearing on your lips. You compelled yourself to stand upright and forsake the act of tidying for the present moment, instead pivoting to confront the man standing in your wake. He stood towering and seemingly unfazed, a faint smile playing upon his lips akin to your own.

"You have my whole heart, don't play dumb," you laughed, dropping the duster to the floor.

Erik approached you, gradually closing the distance between you until his presence was palpable against your cold skin. His hands delicately clasped yours, his thumbs tenderly caressing you. You raised your gaze to meet his intense stare, entranced in the depths of his eyes.

"You have mine too," he said, "Which is why I'll forgive you for that little disappearing act. I wanted to give you some space, but as you know the evening is approaching and we need nourishment, so I'll be-"

"I'm sorry. I didn't consider your feelings before I left, and that was cruel of me. You'd bared yourself to me and I walked away because of my own feelings, and that was selfish," you whispered, your eyes slowly trailing down in shame as your head dropped.

Erik shook his head, a hand leaving yours to cup your chin and lift you back up to his eye level. "You can walk away from me a thousand times over, and as long as you return, I'll never bat an eye."

"Erik, that's not right," you replied, removing his hand from your chin to hold it instead, "You aren't expendable, you don't deserve to be left and returned to as it suits somebody else. If I hurt you, please say so."

"Relax, we were both tense and overwhelmed. It's alri-"

"I'm not just talking about that! How dare you say it's okay for me to leave you and waltz back as I please! You matter more than-"

Unlike before, this time it was Erik who sent his lips crashing down on yours. The intensity and urgency in his actions conveyed his feelings and spoke volumes without a single word being spoke. His lips pressed against yours with such intensity and fervour that you couldn't help but gasp. His hands wandered from yours, up the contours of your arms until they were tightly holding your face in his fiery grip. Your nerves set ablaze and your eyes watered as you quickly flung your hands up to entangle your fingers in his blonde hair, unaware that you were interfering with the knot keeping his mask attached to his head.

Erik was completely captivated, his senses consumed by the intensity of the moment. Unbeknownst to him, the ties securing his mask slowly slipped, gradually unravelling until they hung precariously. The only thing preventing the inevitable was the proximity of your faces, maintaining the fragile balance. Just as you pulled back slightly to catch your breath before resuming the kiss, the mask finally succumbed to gravity and fell, shattering the veil.

It happened in an instant. His cry of horror echoed through the room as he violently tore himself away from you, his hands that were once ardently wrapped around you now shielding himself once more. Panic surged through your veins as the realization of what had just occurred hit you like a dagger to the heart, shattering your world into a million jagged pieces. Without a second thought, you instinctively reached down to retrieve his fallen mask, your trembling fingers fumbling to grasp it as he seemed lost in a whirlwind of confusion and despair, unable to distinguish up from down.

You felt awful.

"Erik, it's okay. I didn't see anything, I have your mask. Take it," you instructed, holding it out while also trying to maintain some distance, trying to avoid frightening him further.

He struggled to regain his composure, his hands trembling uncontrollably and his body wracked with violent shudders. His mind raced, desperately trying to make sense of the unfolding situation. It was an absolute nightmare. Twice in a single day, he had been exposed, his mask stripped away and his face studied by a piercing gaze that seemed to penetrate his very soul. There was no hint of malice, no trace of fear in those eyes, and that's what terrified him the most. It was an unfathomable sensation, one that sent waves of sheer terror crashing through his being.

"Erik," you whispered, your voice barely audible. Uncertainty gripped your every word as you grappled with the weight of the situation. A deep sense of guilt washed over you, threatening to consume your thoughts. It was your fault, you knew it. The mask had come loose, revealing a side of Erik that he fiercely guarded. You feared he would believe that you had purposely revealed him, betraying his trust in the most vulnerable of moments. The room fell into a tense silence as you waited, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure of what would happen next.

You observed that he wasn't crying like he was earlier that day, which gave you some relief. However, it was evident that he was visibly distressed. Your heart ached as you observed him and his turmoil. After the intense series of events, you believed that he had experienced enough excitement for one day.

"Erik, I have your mask. Put it back on if you wish and go lay down, I'll deal with dinner arrangements tonight. You've been through so much today."

He frantically shook his head, his face still concealed behind his trembling hands. The urgency in his actions was palpable, as if his very soul depended on it. With bated breath, he inhaled deeply, summoning every ounce of courage within him. Slowly, almost agonizingly, he began to peel back his hands, one finger at a time. Your heart raced as the suspense hung heavy in the air.

As the seconds ticked by, the anticipation grew, enveloping the room like a thick fog. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of his quickened breaths. Every nerve in his body seemed to be on edge, as if a single wrong move could shatter his entire world. The tension mounted, building up to a high that seemed almost unbearable. You could practically taste the anticipation in the air, a mix of excitement and nervousness. It was as if time itself had slowed down, stretching out the suspense to its breaking point.

The first glimpse of his face emerged from behind his hands as they subsequently dropped to his sides. Your jaw hung heavy, falling open as you drunk in every little bit of his uncovered self. He stood there, unwavering and self assured, a resolute expression pointed at you. Your ears rang and your palms grew sweaty as you came to the realisation that this was the first time you'd seen his face show any emotion that wasn't gut-wrenchingly disconsolate. You were at a loss for words.

"Erik..."

"I know, a handsome gentleman, aren't I?"

You spluttered in shock, the blood rushing up to your cheeks as you stood there observing him. Simply seconds ago he had been exuberating monumental signs of upset, and now he was... cracking jokes? Not that you weren't attracted to him, but he clearly thought he wasn't handsome. Otherwise you two wouldn't be here right now.

"Well, I'll be taking that off your hands," Erik continued, politely taking his most beloved mask back from you. He quickly resecured it to his head. "I must really go and get food now, otherwise we will go hungry tonight. The kitchen closes around 6 o'clock, as you are aware."

You stood there, utterly astonished, as he placed a quick peck on the back of your hand before walking away. You remained rooted to the spot, completely taken aback by the unexpected turn of events. Oh, how the tables turn.

You remained in this state of stupor for an embarrassing amount of time. You were off in your own world throughout his disappearance- when he returned, once your evening meal had been prepared and consumed, and even now while you were tending to washing your cutlery and plates. Erik did not directly reference the elephant in the room throughout that entire sequence, and you knew you'd have to be the person to bring it up.

Now, you weren't usually the person to address things that required addressing. As you'd demonstrated countless times, you were a run away and ignore your feelings kind of person, not a stay and confront them head on kind of person. Admittedly, though, it was unfair to expect Erik to do the emotional heavy lifting the majority of the time, so you yielded. Just this once.

"Erik," you called out, busying yourself with scrubbing down the little nooks and cranny's of the fork you were holding. His footsteps didn't take long to hear.

"Yes, dear?"

"I'd like to discuss... what happened, with you?"

"Hm? What did happen?"

"Erik," you whined, squeezing the washcloth you were using extra hard as you rung out the dirty water.

"Sorry, I just couldn't believe what I heard. I thought my ears were deceiving me. You want to be the one to discuss things first? The horror."

"Erik, be serious!" you cried out, throwing the washcloth to the hard stone floor with a resounding 'splat!', "I wanted to just make sure you were okay, you switched so fast earlier I thought I'd gone crazy."

"Perhaps you did."

"Erik!"

"I'm just teasing," he smiled, coming to sit next to you. He rubbed your knee soothingly. "I'm perfect. I'm sorry for my little outburst, was just a shock is all. Nothing serious."

"Are you sure?" you asked, holding the hand that was rubbing your knee.

"More than I've ever been in my life."

Erik caught your eye, sustaining relentless eye contact upon saying those words.

"Well, I'll trust you then," you replied.

"How much do you trust me?" Erik asked.

"Way too much,” you giggled. Your smile soon fell upon seeing Erik’s serious expression.

A silence swept over. Your heart was hammering as if it's goal was to send you into a fatal cardiac arrest. Your throat felt as though it was closing up, the incessant twiddling of your fingers your only relief from the heavy air of suspense that wafted over you both like a weighted blanket. You could practically feel your heart in your throat.

"That's all I needed to know."

The hand that was resting on your knee slowly began to crawl up the length of your leg, fingertips lightly grazing your skin as it travelled up and up. You were practically hyperventilating. The sinful intentions behind his touch were palpable, and yet he seemed unashamed, as if he were waiting for you to make the next move.

Soon he reached the curvature of where your thigh met your hips, giving your leg a firm squeeze before continuing even higher up your body. The air was so thick you felt as though you could slice it with a knife and it'd split in two. His hands were so gentle and careful, as if he were afraid one wrong move would make you bolt.

"How about we get some sleep for the night, my dear? I'm quite tired after today, I feel like an early retreat to bed is in order," Erik stated, giving you a coy smile. Your head felt as though it could explode at any second.

"Oh. Alright, then. I bid you goodnight," you quickly mounted your feet, "I hope you sleep well and I shall see you in the-"

Erik quickly scooped you up into his arms, holding you tight and secure as he made his way in the opposite direction of where your bedroom resided. Your eyes widened.

"Erik? Why are we heading to your room? You said it was a bad idea for us to share," you squeaked.

"That was before you'd seen my face. Now we've gotten over that small hurdle, the matter of bedroom sharing is no longer an issue," he replied. "Now, shall we?"

Without saying a word, Erik carried you closer and closer to his resting place. His steps were steady yet quick, and he maintained a firm grip on you. During the journey, you noticed a subtle change in Erik's demeanour. The fire and intensity that once burned in his eyes had started to fade, as if he were changing his mind about something.

As you stepped into his bedroom, your eyes wandered with fascination. It was your first time setting foot inside Erik's chambers, and you were captivated by the opportunity to glimpse into his life as you observed your surroundings. His bed, adorned with little coffins on the posts and covered with neatly arranged black covers, boasted a dark brown wooden frame. It was nestled in the corner of the room, exuding an air of intimacy and comfort. Adjacent to the bed stood a wardrobe, while a meticulously organized desk, adorned with stacked papers and a fountain pen, occupied the space in front. A small bookcase resided beside the desk, completing the ensemble. Though entirely ordinary, the room exuded an atmosphere of tidiness and orderliness, prompting a smile to spread across your lips.

"If you don't have any objections, I'd like for us to share this room together from now on. Your old room can be altered to be a place for your hobbies, interests, whatever you wish it to be. Whatever makes you happy," he said.

"That would be wonderful," you replied. He gently lowered you until your feet could comfortably touch the floor below. However, he made sure to keep an arm firmly sinched around your waist, even as you stood upright.

He nodded, radiating a clear sense of joy and relief. After a final glance around, you turned to face him and met his gaze immediately.

"Forgive me if this comes across as strange, but I've kept some nightclothes for you in here since we started our relationship. Just in case," Erik gently squeezed your waist before stepping away and opening the drawers at the bottom of his wardrobe. Delicate lace and pristine white fabric peeked out from the open drawers as he continued, "Everything will be brought over from your room tomorrow, tonight just wear these."

He reached into the drawers and carefully retrieved the aforementioned night clothes, placing them on the bed beside him. With deliberate movements, he pulled open the doors of the storage unit and extracted a long night shirt. Excusing himself, he quietly stepped away to find a private space to change. As he left, you seized the opportunity that presented itself. Swiftly and silently, you exchanged your blouse and long skirt for the nightgown he had prepared for you.

He returned not long after you'd finished closing your top button, door squeaking as he slowly shut it behind him. He took a deep breath before raising his hands to untie the knot behind his head, allowing the mask to slip off. Seeing you have no reaction, he reached out, waiting for you to place your hand in his before guiding you to the side of the bed. He wrapped you in his arms before lifting you once more, pressing a quick kiss against your forehead before lowering you onto the mattress below. You sunk into the bed as if you were laying on clouds.

He busied himself with removing the blankets from beneath you, bringing them up and over to envelope your frame. He ensured that every inch of your skin was covered and unexposed to the chilly lagoon air. Reaching up, he tucked your hair behind your ear, slowly trailing his fingers down until he stopped at your neck. He gave you another quick kiss before retreating.

He blew out out the candle on his desk before he carefully crawled up onto the bed. He tucked himself away into the corner while you laid on the outside. His arm slithered underneath your neck, pulling you into him with his other. You rested your head on his chest as you turned, nuzzling into him as if he were a giant teddy bear. You thought his heart were about to leap from his chest from the rate you could hear it hammering.

"Goodnight," you said.

"Goodnight."

Many evenings were spent in such a manner. Before long, your former room was emptied and filled with new, exciting things. It had transformed into a new sanctuary, replacing your secluded spot in the verdant woods outside. Now, you possessed a haven to house your cherished items; somewhere to store your books, a cozy nook where you could recline and immerse yourself in literature for hours, and a table for you to engage in the art of crochet, a repository for yarn, and a showcase for your completed projects. It has everything you wanted, precisely as he promised.

Your sentiments for Erik were blossoming with each passing day. His comforting caress, his unwavering commitment to your happiness, his tender manner of adoration - they propelled your emotions beyond what you had deemed imaginable. As a child, you could not have fathomed that dwelling in a modest subterranean abode would be where you dreamed to be in life. Yet, now that you were settled in this lagoon, the thought of never encountering him seemed unfathomable. He personified a sense of belonging, amalgamating all that was exquisite and comforting. He was your haven, the epitome of beauty and security.

But as Erik's love and devotion enshrouded you, there existed an alluring charm concealed beneath the surface. It beckoned you irresistibly, drawing you closer, its presence palpable. You could discern its essence in his tantalizing touch, his possessive grasp, as he ensnared you with an insatiable hunger. It was as if he held you under a bewitching spell, your body a mere marionette swaying to his carnal desires. The longing in his eyes spoke of an urge that transcended innocence, a primal yearning that flouted the conventions of morality. And you, consumed by the same passionate flame, yearned for him with equal fervour, unbound by societal expectations or righteous inhibitions.

So why was he resisting?

He was your everything, your entire world consumed by his presence. You did believe yourself to be the keeper of his heart, and he, in turn, was the keeper of yours. No other soul could ever compare to the ardour you held for him. He was the very essence of your existence, the driving force that propelled you through each passing day. It was not about what he did for you or what he provided; it was simply him—the embodiment of all that you craved. You were willing to endure the depths of hell itself just to remain at his side. There were no limits to what you were willing to bestow upon him, not even your own purity.

It was truly mortifying how excessively you fixated on this minuscule detail. From the moment you had first shared a bed, weeks or even months had elapsed. The atmosphere crackled with an undeniable sexual tension and an insatiable yearning that permeated every interaction, overwhelming you to the point of metaphorical asphyxiation. If only he did not desire it, then you would accept it and never mention the subject again or indulge in surreptitious tantalizing touches. But it was evident that he did indeed want it. His body language screamed what his own lips dared not speak.

So tonight, you had a plan. Either he would relinquish his defences and claim you, as you could discern the fervent desire in his eyes, or he would quash all notions and prospects of intimacy for the indeterminate future. A straightforward affirmation or denial was all you sought, to then bring an end to your torturous overthinking.

To start your plan, you deliberately selected sleepwear that exuded desire, surpassing the usual modesty of your night clothes. It was exquisitely crafted from elegant and feather-light fabric, delicately caressing your skin in a manner that mirrored your desires for your beloved's touch. Its slender straps gracefully extended from the bodice, adorned with sheer breast cups embellished with intricate floral lace. Just below your bosom, a dainty bow served as a liaison between the upper portion of the gown and the gracefully flowing, undecorated skirt. While not lingerie per se, you believed it would at least catch his eye. Hopefully.

As per his usual routine, he entered the room once he had finished dressing for the evening. Lately, he had taken to leaving his mask aside unless he had to venture into the opera house or he was planning to receive a visit from Gerard. Hence, you had the opportunity to behold his expression in its entirety when his gaze fell upon you. His eyes widened, and his mouth fell agape, unabashedly scanning your figure as you discreetly feigned obliviousness to his direct scrutiny. In that moment, you felt acutely aware of your own immodesty, your cheeks aflame with a profound sense of embarrassment.

"I haven't seen that nightdress before," he commented, finally picking up his slack jaw. He moved closer to you, hands coming to rest on your hips as he lips edged near to your ear.

"It was at the back of my closet, I hadn't noticed it until today," you lied, knowing that you'd been very aware of it, and just had no reason to wear it. Until now.

"You look heavenly," he whispered into your ear, sending shivers ricocheting down your spine. His presence was dizzying.

You hadn't thoroughly pondered the plan it seemed. You had hoped that the execution would require minimal effort on your part, yet you had neglected to determine your response for this inevitable situation. Shaking your head, you realized the need to gather your wits. Retreat was not an option now that you had made a commitment.

"Do I?" you asked, hesitantly placing your hands upon his. You needed to act like you knew what you were doing. "You should feel the fabric, it's heavenly to touch as well."

You sensually and enticingly glided both of your hands up your torso, relishing every moment as they caressed the curve of your waist, skilfully manoeuvring them to rest seductively beneath the swell of your bosom. A startled gasp escaped his lips, his breath catching as he realized the audaciousness of your gesture. Your confidence surged with every passing second.

"Y-yes, it's quite nice. I see what you mean," he tried to remove his hands, but you clutched him tighter in response. He clearly didn't really want to remove his hands either, because he didn't put up more resistance than that.

"You touching me is quite nice, too. Although I'd prefer your hands higher."

Each breath that escaped his lips resonated loudly in your ear, his yearning becoming increasingly apparent as it ardently pressed against your backside. Instinctively, you drew your body nearer to his, eliciting a deep groan from behind.

"Or lower. I'm not fussy."

Erik felt as if he were on the verge of bursting. Every ounce of blood in his body was frenziedly surging downward, his throat parched as sweat dripped down his skin. His fingers yearned to comply with your request, but his mind vehemently protested, urging him to resist and refrain from succumbing to such feeble-mindedness. He couldn’t treat you like an object, only something he used to fulfil his devilish wants.

"My dear, I know you may not intend to have this affect on me, but I am a man and... your words stir things in me. Please allow me to remove my hands so we can retire for the night."

"What if that is my intention?" you teased.

Erik hesitated. Did you truly wish for him to treat you in such a manner? Perhaps you did not fully grasp the implications of your actions. For an unwed woman to partake in the act of intimacy was deemed the utmost disgrace, an indelible blemish that would tarnish her reputation indefinitely. Although Erik knew that their secret would remain hidden, he did not wish to lead you astray into the depths of sin. While he may not believe in a higher power, he understood that most individuals clung to faith, and you were no exception.

"I couldn't do that to you," he replied, "You are my lover, not something for me to vent my unholy desires upon. I hold too much respect for you to allow that to happen."

You sighed. "Is that why you kept running away? Because you do not wish me to be a damned woman?"

"Yes. It is already too late for me, I have done too much wrong and I have hurt too many. But you can be saved."

Carefully considering his words, you shrugged, "I can always repent."

Erik gawked at your words, eyebrows furrowing as he processed what you'd uttered. Did you not understand the severity of the situation? Were you not thinking straight at the moment? Why were-

"I may believe in God, but I also believe you aren't going to heaven. So why would I want to go there either?" you explained, tightening your grip on his hands. "If I end up changing my mind, and I regret my decisions, I shall repent and hopefully God will forgive me. But if I marry the man I had premarital sex with, is it really so bad?"

Erik found himself descending into a state of turmoil. He grew exasperated, unable to comprehend why you could not understand that he was doing this for you. He yearned for you to grasp his intentions, to comprehend that his actions were driven by a desire to shield you from sorrow and remorse. Simultaneously, a sense of bewilderment overcame him. As you expanded upon your reasoning, the fortress around his emotions began to crumble, revealing a vulnerability that he had long concealed. With each passing word, he felt his defences wane, his carnal desires surging forth, beckoning him to abandon propriety and surrender to the depths of his impure thoughts. The allure of gratification grew stronger, compelling him to yearn for the freedom to explore the depths of his desires, to caress you with an intensity that bordered on ravishment, and to claim you as his own.

"So, Erik," you spoke, "Will you take me right here and right now, or will we forget this ever happened and go to bed, as if nothing ever happened?"

Erik let out a strained sigh, feeling his composure shatter like delicate porcelain. He offered no words in return, only a meek inclination of his head, which you could discern from the proximity between you. Your heart soared with a mixture of elation and trepidation.

You spun around and launched yourself at him with an enthusiasm you never knew you possessed. Every fantasy, desire, urge, and longing surged to the surface, your lips conveying everything you had kept locked away until this moment. Oxygen ceased to matter, the world dissolving into nothingness as you clung to him with every ounce of desperation. The bed seemed impossibly distant.

With a sense of urgency, you propelled yourself forward, gently but firmly directing Erik until his knees collided with the plush mattress. Wasting no time, you pressed your delicate hands against his chest and gracefully pushed him back, momentarily breaking the connection of your lips as he tumbled onto the bed beneath. He hastily settled into a proper position, while you, with a mix of excitement and apprehension, gracefully climbed on top of him, your legs straddling his form.

Too much time had been squandered to concern yourself with trivial matters like being gentle and slow, you needed him now and you had no intention of lingering. You centre settled upon his pelvis, sensing the warmth of his length beneath his night shirt. Your hips circled around the bulge poking through the fabric, moans and whimpers escaping your lips as you took everything he was willing to give you. He definitely did not object.

Your kisses grew increasingly fervent and frenzied as time wore on, losing yourself in the sensation of his proximity and knowing that by the morning, your connection would have deepened and exceeded all of your expectations. Reflecting upon yourself a month prior, when Erik finally granted you the privilege of seeing him whole- witnessing the profound transformation that had taken place between the two of you since then was nothing short of dizzying.

The straps of your nightgown were slowly beginning to falter off of your shoulders, loosely hanging as if begging him to finish the job and strip you entirely. You’d imagined countless nights of lying beneath him, skin bare and free for him to explore and observe as you basked in the glory of his gaze. So with that thought, you took the hands that were currently clinging onto your hips for dear life and placed them on your shoulders, saying exactly what you wanted without uttering a word.

Erik appeared to understand your desires, for with trembling hands and lips that faltered, he withdrew himself to assess the situation. He gazed up at you, seeking your approval with a nervous and hesitant air, fearful of making a wrong move that would propel you away from him and back to square one. However, your reassuring nod and an intensified grinding of your hips against his spurred him into action more swiftly than a racehorse urged on by the whip. He wasted no time in discarding the delicate straps that confined your form, liberating your body from his prying gaze.

As your nightgown fell to bunch at your legs, Erik felt as though his lungs almost gave out. Your body was unlike anything he’d ever seen in the paintings he collected, every mark and curve of your skin displaying a radiance he didn’t realise was possible. With a thrust of his hips, he gestured for you to move back so he could continue diligently removing the last of your clothing.

The moment your last inch of skin emerged from the confines of the fabric, Erik gently nudged you to recline. You should have felt more shy or apprehensive about being bare and vulnerable beneath him, yet the only sensation that coursed through you was the fire that blazed within your core. You let out a soft whine about no longer being able to remain on top of him, but your grievances were swiftly silenced as his hands swept you up, swiftly manoeuvring you beneath him.

“Wait, can I see you too?” You asked, hurriedly sitting up before he had the chance to properly position himself above you. He seemed taken aback by your eagerness.

“Are you sure? I’m nothing special to look at, don’t feel-“

“Take your shirt off!” You demanded.

Erik seemed even more speechless than you thought possible. His eyes were blown wide in astonishment as if you had begun conversing in a long-forgotten, extinct tongue. While somewhat entertained by his disoriented state, you delicately extended your hand and commenced the task of unfastening the buttons of his nightshirt with the utmost precision and unwavering determination, as if you’d done this many times before. Even if that couldn’t be less inaccurate.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he reminded you, “It’s okay to go slow.”

Slow was a word that had no place in your dictionary at this present moment. However, you eased your grasp and lessened the ferocity of your actions, aiming to appear slightly less forceful in your demeanour.

After the last button popped free, you hurriedly removed the garment from him. Discarding it to the side, you reclined slowly, unable to tear your gaze away. His figure exuberated a powerful presence, every inch meticulously sculpted as if by the hand of a master artisan. Though littered with small scars and scratches, the striking juxtaposition between his celestial physique and his disfigured visage was utterly captivating, leaving you utterly intrigued.

He could feel your eyes penetrating him, and he resisted every urge screaming at him to shrink away. He was done hiding from you, he wanted to feel the warmth of you enveloping him, holding him, loving him until the day it was no longer possible. He wanted to give you all of him and never let go. He was done with thinking he didn’t deserve to be loved wholly, because you were right here offering everything he never believed he could possess. You had defied all of his meagre expectations and made him a new man.

You were so pliant and pure beneath him, the rise and fall of your chest and the slight nibble on your bottom lip betraying the hidden worry within. He wasted no time in leaning forward above you, his lips desperate as they sought to kiss away every fear and trace of hesitation you harboured. He bestowed a trail of delicate kisses down your forehead, across your cheeks, and along the graceful curve of your neck. His fervent kisses then graced your shoulders, tracing a path around your collarbones, each touch so delicate and reverent, until finally reaching the soft expanse of your chest.

His lips hovered, waiting for the right moment to strike and send you into a frenzy of pleasure and bliss. He bestowed tender kisses upon the delicate curvature of your breasts, attending closely to the sounds that escaped your parted lips. He observed the signals your body conveyed, observing the hastened rhythm of your breath and the involuntary movement of your legs, the way you were drawing them closer to create friction where you craved it. His own longing became unmistakable, his cock standing tall and achingly rigid, tantalizingly grazing against your abdomen.

His mouth was progressively nearing your nipples, delicately encircling your areola and occasionally darting out his tongue to deliver a teasing lick. Despite his inexperience, he performed with an air of seasoned confidence, as though he had engaged in such intimate encounters countless times before. He knew exactly where to lick, kiss and touch to elicit the most erotic responses from you. His lips slowly closed around your nipple, testing the waters with light sucking and flicks of his tongue before experimentally grazing it with his teeth, his cock turning red and angry from how much blood was coursing through his veins.

You cried out at the peculiar sensation, quickly calling out for him to not be too rough with his teeth. He nodded against you, his tussled hair tickling your skin as he consumed himself with teasing and playing with your breasts. It felt so scandalous and immoral the way he played with you, the way his hands caressed and pressed against you as he familiarized himself with the curves of your body.

As his fervor increased, your sensitive buds responded with heightened sensitivity. The intense and eager caresses caused your nipples to swell, becoming puffy and tender. The sensation was so overwhelming that tears threatened to well up in your eyes, the stimulation evoking a sharp, piercing ache. Eventually, you found yourself asking him to stop, and he promptly complied upon hearing you.

"Are you alright?" He was panting, saliva coating the surroundings of his mouth.

You nearly laughed, but could only manage a whimsical giggle. The sight of him so concerned yet utterly spent at the same time stirred emotions within you that you dared not confess. Your essence overflowed, moistening your inner thighs as it trickled out like a stream. The influence your lover had on you was profound, surpassing anything you had ever imagined. Even the most daring of literature that you’d read did not evoke such a powerful surge of arousal and longing within you.

"I'm perfect," you smiled, "but my breasts were beginning to hurt, and the feeling was becoming much too overwhelming. Besides, I'd like to return the favour."

You sprung up, lifting your back off the bed before he even had time to brainstorm his response. You jumped at him, twisting both of you until he was back beneath you. You gave him a sloppy kiss before pulling away, venturing down until you reached his shaft. It was longer than you expected. Your old, more outspoken friends who boasted of their premarital escapades always mentioned men's genitalia to be around four or five inches, but Erik's seemed more like six or seven. His girth seemed to align well with their descriptions, so you decided he must just be a bit more gifted in the length department. You gulped.

"What are you doing? Please, just focus on yourself. I need nothing in return."

You shook your head teasingly, rolling your eyes with a small smirk on your face. The vivid images that had danced in your mind about how on earth that was supposed to fit inside you were quickly dismissed. You gathered all the saliva you could muster in your mouth, spitting it onto your hand. You’d read about that in a book once.

Erik looked utterly astounded, captivated by the strings of saliva that cascaded from your lips. He was about to inquire about your intentions and where the destination of that saliva globule was going to be, but his curiosity was quickly satisfied when your delicate fingers enfolded around his manhood and you tentatively began stroking him up and down. Your movements lacked the refined cadence of experienced hands, occasionally faltering in rhythm and fluctuating in pressure. Yet through perseverance, you eventually established a steady and pleasurable pace, accompanied by a grip that elicited delightful sensations and heightened pleasure.

Sighs of ecstasy escaped his lips, his eyes fluttering closed as he became enveloped in the sensation of your caress. He felt a stirring deep within his abdomen, a tension coiling tighter and tighter until it would inevitably release. His skin glowed with perspiration as he tilted his head back, his moans growing louder and louder, harmonizing with the sound of your saliva squelching as your hand traversed his shaft.

He was no stranger to desire and impure thoughts, long before he had met you he still yearned and had fantasies of what it would feel like to touch and be touched by another. However, he refrained from indulging in such pleasures, deeming it a frivolous waste of his time. Little did he know that the allure and intensity of self-pleasure had eluded him. Oh, how he wished he had been more enlightened back then.

Something was building inside him. Unaware, you continued your steady pace, looking into his eyes with a sweet smile. He felt something akin to a rubber band stretching in his abdomen, reaching its snapping point, pulling further apart. Instinctively, his hand reached up to grab your free hand, squeezing with a force that you knew would cause pain the next day.

Your arm was beginning to seize up, your muscles cramping worse than you’d ever experienced before. His hand practically crushing yours didn’t help, and eventually, you had to relent and withdraw. A frustrated grunt escaped his throat, his eyes clenching shut as his hips bucked. The snapping sensation in his abdomen gradually subsided, the build-up disappearing as if it were never there to begin with.

"That was... different," he heaved.

"Good different?" You tentatively asked.

"Good different," he confirmed.

A profound stillness enveloped both of you as Erik struggled to regain his composure, his erection throbbing with a vengeance. He clenched his jaw, the distressing ache seeping into his bones, sending tingles down his limbs and leaving his mind in a dizzying haze. The rush of blood roared in his ears as he lay there, gradually returning to the realm of consciousness.

You were filled with trepidation. Had you committed a grievous error? Why did he seem so discomposed? His eyes were shut, and his chest rose and fell with alarming rapidity. He appeared to be in a state of distress. The books you read had failed to prepare you for such a sight!

"Are you alright, love?" You fussed, cupping his cheeks in your hands in concern, "Do you need anything? Water? To stop?"

"No, no, no," he instantly denied, waving his hand. His arm came to drop over his eyes. "I'm just... a little overwhelmed, I suppose."

Hearing that he wasn't about to enter sudden cardiac arrest, you threw your leg over his stomach. Your warmth pressed deliciously against his well-toned abdominal muscles, sending electrifying sensations up your bones. He appeared more at ease now, his hand that wasn't thrown across his face reaching up to caress the skin of your thigh with his fingertips. Quivers reverberated through your body, as if a gentle breeze had swept through the room, carrying with it a delightful shiver of pleasure.

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his with utmost delicacy. His other hand joined in, but instead of gently caressing your thighs, he grasped your flesh firmly, guiding your hips in a swaying motion. Your mind turned to mush, the undulating movement causing your senses to ignite. Sparks flickered between your bodies, every touch sending pleasurable jolts through your form as he manipulated you to his desires.

Every pitiful moan and whimper was swallowed by his intoxicating mouth, every breath shared intermingling into one. He kept you restrained at a steady pace, even as you attempted to push against it and yearned for a more vigorous rhythm. One amused glance sent a rush of crimson to your cheeks, a blush of embarrassment that betrayed you.

"Can I put it in?" You whispered. You wanted to get your upper hand back and fast.

He paused for a moment, his pupils dilating and a gasp escaping his lips as he absorbed your words. His eyes turned upwards towards yours, staring deep into your soul as if attempting to decipher your thoughts. His unyielding gaze was slightly intimidating, and you found yourself questioning if you had spoken inappropriately.

"If you wish," he replied.

Sucking in your lower lip, you cautiously descended. The sensation of his tip brushing against you made you unconsciously bite down, feeling the connection of your most intimate parts. He elevated himself to a seated position, pressing his arousal even closer to your entrance. The wetness that coated his tip, combined with your own slickness, allowed for ample lubrication as it trickled down.

He gave you one final questioning look, to which you responded with a confident nod. He returned the gesture in understanding. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you slowly lowered yourself until the tip naturally found its way to your opening, gently teasing and exploring. You bit down on your lip so hard that you could taste blood, but you pressed on. His hand reached down to assist in guiding himself inside you, and both of you gasped as his bulbous tip slipped past your entrance.

The sensation was indescribable, pleasure and discomfort waging a battle as your body came to a halt. Erik pressed tender kisses along your shoulder, his hand resting on your back to ease your tension. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced, the feeling of your purity being tested by his manhood was intense and sent a fiery heat rushing through your core. Your face twisted as you summoned the strength to sink further, enduring the initial sting as best you could.

"We can stop at any time, just say the word," Erik gently reminded you, nestling his head against you as he patiently waited for you to adjust. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for indulging in such pleasure while you were clearly in pain. He made a concentrated effort to conceal his contorted expressions and stifle his moans and grunts.

Finally, you managed to lower yourself fully into his lap. His cock was nestled deep within your intimate depths. You took deep breaths, determined to overcome the discomfort and replace it with the exhilaration you knew could await. It felt as if you were being impaled, your arms clinging to him with increasing intensity as you willed yourself to relax and surrender to the sensations that enveloped you.

You were practically restraining him, keeping him trapped inside of you to the extent that he felt unable to move even if he desired to. The tightness was approaching discomfort, his soothing and calming touches attempting to coax you into relaxing your muscles and embracing the sensation.

After a few moments of acclimation and striving to ease your muscles, you soon sensed the inferno below gradually transform into a thrilling excitement. A surge of adrenaline coursed through you as you comprehended your current location and the nature of your actions.

Testing out the waters, you gingerly lifted your hips, wincing at the sensation of your walls contracting as you raised yourself further off of him. His swollen tip caught on your entrance, prompting you to cease ascending. Erik released his grip around you, reclining back on his hands to observe the spectacle.

The eye contact was overwhelming. He dared not divert his gaze from you for a single moment, your partially closed eyes battling to remain open as you lowered yourself back down. A strangled cry threatened to escape your lips as the exquisite stretch overwhelmed your senses, your mind empty and your vision wavering. His tip was nearly grazing your cervix. Every fibre of your being was consumed by the sensation, your mind black and vision wavering.

You pushed yourself up and down a few more times, willing yourself to adjust and adapt. Gradually, you found your rhythm, moving with grace as your walls glided along his cock. The sound of your flesh meeting echoed softly in the air as you fervently rode him. He was buried deep within you, overwhelming your senses and leaving you dizzy with desire. Erik wasn’t any better off.

"Oh my god," you whined, fucking yourself on him as if you had never been more desperate for anything in your life. "I've been dreaming of this for so long."

"Me too," Erik grunted.

Your breasts undulated in perfect harmony with your motions, practically demanding Erik to divert his gaze towards them. In any other circumstance, you would have teasingly chastised him for his audacity, yet a deeper blush coloured your cheeks as you beheld him intently studying your form. He reclined further upon the bed, his weight supported by his elbows, his eyes filled with a fervent longing.

Your hands instantly found purchase on his chest, using him as leverage to move faster and rougher on top of him. He was engrossed in the way your body moved and responded to him, his hoarse moans only serving to make you even more hot and bothered. Your faltering stamina almost made you want to burst into tears, because the last thing you wanted to do was stop.

Erik soon caught on to your stuttering motions, noticing the way your hair stuck to your forehead from the copious amount of sweat.

"I love you, I love you so much," you cried, sniffling from the overload of emotions that were bubbling to the surface. The love, the infatuation, the relief, the pleasure, the euphoria- everything was rising inside of you abruptly and without warning.

"I love you too," he moaned, relinquishing his elbows to rest upon the bed. He grabbed your hips, bringing you to a pause. You sobbed. "Are you getting tired?"

"No, I'm perfectly fine," you protested, attempting to resist his hold in order to resume your agitated movements. He would've rolled his eyes at your stubbornness if he wasn't distracted by the feeling of your hole swallowing his cock.

He forcefully pulled you down, pressing your body against his chest as he exerted his dominance. With a swift motion, he flipped you over, positioning himself on top. In the process, he momentarily withdrew from your cunt, but without hesitation, he re-entered your inviting warmth. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and your arms enveloped him as you surrendered to him, reclining in submission.

Your mouth formed a perfect 'o' as you endured his pounding, setting a fervent and punishing cadence as he plunged inside of you with all the strength he could summon. Your world spun, your lungs yearning for air as you let out moans and cries with every motion he executed.

His whispered curses and sounds of pleasure were hot against your ear, every slide in and out enhanced by how close he was pressed against you. It was intoxicating, his embrace crushing you so tight that you couldn't distinguish where your body met the mattress and where his body met yours. Everything dissolved into one.

"Does this feel good?" Erik questioned, pace merciless as he pulled away to look at you directly.

"Yes! Yes it does!" You wailed.

"Who's making you feel good?" He growled.

"You! You!"

"What's my name?"

"Erik! Oh!"

"That's right," He let out a deep and guttural groan, diverting his gaze from you for a fleeting moment. With a firm grip on your thighs, he effortlessly folded you, positioning your knees so close to your ears that it bordered on the extreme. "Who do you belong to?" he gruffly inquired, his voice laced with a hint of possessiveness.

"Ah! You, Erik! You!"

"You," thrust, "belong," thrust, "to," thrust, "me."

Ecstasy surged through your being, the sensation of being filled to the brim overwhelmed your senses. Your every nerve tingled and quivered, your body contorting and your eyes fluttering in pure pleasure. Your walls fluttered around him as you uttered his name in breathless gasps, your voice choked with desire. The tightening in your core reached a crescendo before finally giving way to an intense release.

Erik was going crazy. The feeling of you contracting and spasming around him made his body tremor as his desperate pace transitioned into aimless jerking. His resolve came undone as white ribbons shot out of him, painting your walls white. Your cunt was practically milking him.

"My god," Erik sighed, huffing as he recovered from the aftershocks of his climax.

You were in no better a state. Tears streaked down your face, and sweat had practically glued your bodies together. Erik withdrew himself from you, guiding your limp legs back onto the bed. He laid beside you, his form exhausted and his arousal gradually subsiding, as you both took a moment to regain composure.

You swallowed, surprised at how parched your throat was. "Was it good?... Was I good?"

"Better than I ever imagined," he affirmed.

It didn't take long for Erik to rise, hastily donning his nightshirt before exiting the chamber and venturing into the lagoon. In a swift manner, he reappeared, clutching a moist towel in his grasp. With delicate precision, he gently glided it over your sensitive areas, meticulously cleansing the semen that had spilled out of you, ensuring that no traces of your sin were left behind.

A damp patch had formed beneath you, causing the fabric to become stained and the bed linens quite uncomfortable to rest upon. Erik gently lifted you and settled you onto the chair positioned in front of his desk, attending to the task of replacing the soiled bedsheets so that you would not have to sleep upon the concoction of your arousal and his release.

"I'll prepare baths for us tomorrow. For now, I think it's best for you to get some sleep," Erik tapped your cheek, laughing as your droopy eyelids perked up at his touch.

You grumbled at him, your dishevelled hair and pouting lips evoking a sense of charm that made his heart soar. He scooped you up once more, cradling you in his arms with care as he escorted you back to your shared bed. With haste, you scurried beneath the fresh linen, seeking solace and warmth within the confines of the quilt that shielded your immodest frame from the chill that seemed to permeate the air. Erik casually discarded the used towel into a corner alongside the dirtied sheets, joining you on the bed and tucking himself away behind you with his back to the wall.

He drew you closer, his arm slipping beneath your neck as he nestled you against his side. You gazed up at him, a smile gracing your lips, but inside, a vexed frustration swelled as you silently cursed his attire. Why must he remain clothed while you, in this moment, were so undressed?

"If I'm naked, then you're naked," you playfully stated.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, strip right now."

He complied silently with your request, and your internal vexation turned to jubilation as his flesh made contact with yours. You resumed your former position, nestling yourself once again into his embrace as your wearied eyes finally succumbed to the burden of your fatigue.

Then it was ruined.

"Will you marry me?" Erik implored, his voice filled with anticipation and a touch of desperation. As your disapproving gaze met his, he hastily continued, "We've already consummated our love. What's the harm? We agreed on this months ago."

Snickering under your breath, you retorted, "Get me a ring first, then I'll consider."

The comforting hum of Erik's complaints and attempts at convincing you to please please marry him carried you softly and sweetly into a deep sleep.

[do2faj]

Help him make the music of the night

[icariathebard]

Bitches be like "if I were Christine I just would have chosen Erik" like he wasn't a murderer, stalker and kidnapper (its me I'm bitches)

[syd-vixious]

2004 poto x reader prompt: you gotta write something about erik learning to be comfortable w his natural hair. 2004 erik is one of the few eriks that isn’t balding so i’m so surprised no one commented more on how reader not just accepts him being maskless but being wigless too. playing with his hair? 🥺🥺

A/N: My first Erik request!! I'm honestly so happy that I've been getting requests for this delicious man. Like I did in my earlier post, I've been on a poto hyperfixation recently. It's to the point where I'm planning on being the Phantom for halloween this year lol. Anyway, thank you anon for the request and I hope it's to your liking!

Insecurities

Summary: Erik keeps an eye on you at all times when he cannot be near. But, how will he feel about himself when he observes you helping other men with their luscious hair on their “perfect” scalp.

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It was late at night at the Palais Garnier. Most of the actors, dancers, and crew have already head to bed for the night or were in the process of said task. You took the time to slip away from the prying eyes of the world above, heading to one of the secret entrances that led to the catacombs below the opera house.

After a tiring day of rehearsals, you longed to be in the comforting arms of your darling. As you hurriedly headed down the steps to where he resided, you were caught off guard by the silence. Normally, especially if Erik knew you would be arriving, he would be either playing his magnificent organ or singing with his velvet-laced voice. Concern etching itself to your features, you continued to make your way to his sanctuary.

Once you arrived, you were surprised to see him absent from his spot where he would wait for you. "Erik, dear? Are you here?" you paused for a moment, waiting for a response.

Walking to where his bed was located, you saw the dark curtains drawn and heard the music box playing from the makeshift bedroom. With gentle steps, you entered and saw Erik holding a handheld mirror, his Phantom wig and mask placed upon his head.

You stepped behind him, softly placing your hands upon his shoulders as you gaze at his reflection. "What bothers you, my love?" you asked, worry lacing your tone.

With a huff, he placed the mirror down, standing up and walking out of the room, "It is nothing for you to be concerned about." he inclined in a cold tone.

You followed him back out to the main area, watching him sit down at his organ, trying to find a piece to play that might help whatever thoughts are racing through his mind at the moment. You gave a soft sigh and crouched beside him.

"Erik, darling, I know when something is troubling you. Please, tell me what is flowing through your beautiful mind at this moment." You reached up towards his mask, causing him to flinch and catch your wrist the moment your fingertips grazed the surface.

When his misty eyes met your own, he sighed, "How do you even bare to glance at me?"

Your brows furrowed in confusion, "What ever do you mean?"

He let go of your wrist, bringing his hand back up to his face to remove his wig and mask to expose his true features underneath. "How could you want to glance at this hellish gargoyle each day and decide not to choose someone else? Someone less deformed, someone who wasn't a mistake made by God?"

Your face went from confusion to sorrow, feeling his pain and insecurities that laced his words. You took his hand, standing him up and guiding him back to the bedroom area. Taking a seat and patting the empty space beside you, silently asking him to join you.

He complied, facing you with confusion in his eyes.

With a loving gaze, you held his face gently, "Erik, my love, my muse... I speak to you every day to be with you. I join you in your song to hear you. I lay with you each night to feel you. You are the most important thing in my life. You were, by no means, a mistake from God. You were a gift, a blessing that I am overjoyed to have met each and every day."

You began to caress the deformed side of his face tenderly, "So tell me, what bothers your heart, my angel?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch before speaking. "I saw you with some of those bastard men today. You were helping them style their perfect hair on their perfect scalps. Then you come here just to be around this disappointing beast that lies before you."

You frown, upset that the events of today were bothering him this much. You leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead, placing your own against it after. "My sweet, I assure you, you have nothing to worry about. The hairdresser for rehearsal did not arrive today so they had me take her place for the time being."

With a soft caress, you combed your hands through his hair, making sure to be gentle as to not hurt him. "It doesn't matter how those men look in physical appearance, it means nothing to me."

You moved his head to rest on your chest as you held him, "The amount of hair on your beautiful head does not matter to me. Besides, my love, your hair is softer than the finest of silk. I love you for who you are, Erik."

His voice hitched as tears soaked your chest, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. You placed a kiss on his head, holding him close to you.

"I love you. My angel, my muse, my Y/n."

[potol0ver]

Hello! I've really enjoyed your hcs and requests for Erik and I was wondering, could you write one for Erik with a partner who is an artist that views him as a muse? Drawing his masked face and doodling his hands and figure silently all the time even if they don't tell him they find him beautiful outright, it's obvious in their secret artwork

Yessss this is adorable i love this

Tags; GN reader, artist reader, Drabble (I still don’t know if I’m using that word right-)

Even before you and Erik got together, Erik knew about YOURE artistic skills. Always watching you from the shadows as you worked on your next masterpiece. No matter how “bad” or unfinished the project was, he adored it like it belonged in the museum. The older works that you forgot about he stole and put up in his home deep under the Opera house, he couldn’t help it, he needed to be surrounded by your brilliants.

After you two starting talking and interacting with each other he noticed how your works became a little more moody, or take more inspiration from the Opera house itself more. Erik entertained the idea that you’re doing that because it reminds you of him, but he snaps himself out of it thinking that he’s just showing you more of the Opera, of course you’re inspired. It’s not because of him.

Overtime the two of you became an inseparable pair, you can continue to work on your art in his home as well as he can work with you in there to, if anything it’s boosting both of your work ethics. Erik sitting at his piano and you sitting nearby with your sketch book in hand, how can it get any better than this? Perfectly domestic and calm as you two worked on your art. If only he knew, just like he’s writing songs about you, that you’re drawing him as your muse.

Sitting in your lounge chair off to the side of his piano room, you sat sketching him with a charcoal pencil. Slowly but surely capturing his appearance with small strokes and the occasional intentional smudge of the charcoal on the page for definition. You couldn’t help but have a small smile as you take a look at the page, you capture him perfectly in your eyes. His mask, his hair, even the disgruntled look of him as he focuses on his music, leaning over his piano.

Truth be told this isn’t the first time you’ve done this. You’ve say many times in this chair sketching him, let it be just his face, or maybe some anatomy practice where you focused on how he held his body. Like all artists hands were the bane of your existence, but you couldn’t help but try and tackle that subject to immortalize his, whether they’re in his leather gloves or bare, they were always intriguing.

Erik was always a muse to you, even before you ever saw him and only heard his voice. Those drawings of the opera house you did were made to try and capture him. They were always the places and moods that you felt like captured his unique aura and voice. The day you finally saw him even in the shadows you couldn’t help but try your best to get it on paper. Truth is you’re as infatuated with him as he is with you, but he’d never guess that.

Now that you’re spending most days with him, it’s hard to hide the fact you’re drawing him. As odd as it sounds you just didn’t want to be seen as a creep for it. Your sketch book quickly filling up with all the sketches you’ve done of him, and you still don’t feel confident enough to show him one. Maybe, in time when you create a masterpiece as him as your muse will you finally show him, but until then, he’ll continue to be your secret muse.

[spaceagebachelormann]

Hello! If you’re taking headcanon requests, may I please request headcanons for what Count Dracula & Erik the Phantom would be like as husbands?

dracula and erik as husbands !

✧ warnings — some mentions of death and possible spoilers for dracula and phantom of the opera. also like 2 sexual jokes i think

✧ additional info — i got so so excited by this request omg <3 if u wanna id rlly appreciate it if u sent me more requests for phantom of the opera and classic monsters!! also not really specific versions of them but i mainly had the book versions in mind

✧ m.list — nav.

ೃ༄ erik destler

he wouldn’t wait to marry you

like at all

the second you show him you’re willing to be in a relationship with him and he’s sure you won’t leave him he’s already planning your wedding

of course if you wanted to take it more slowly he might be a little impatient but he’d try his best for you :)

but he’d be so happy if u were ready to get married as soon as possible

the sad thing is he’d get so stressed while trying to plan it because he’d want it to be absolutely perfect because that’s what he didn’t get with christine

and he’d try to convince you not to worry about it or help plan the wedding becaus he wants it to be a surprise for you

however he’d talk to you about what you want <3

so unfortunately he doesn’t know a lot of people 😭 so your wedding audience consists of daroga, mme giry, and maybe christine and raoul if ur lucky and manage to convince them (but they’ll be a little on edge)

and u can invite ur family if they’d be accepting of erik!

once y’all are married it’s so sweet and romantic ohmygod

he’d make u breakfast and dinner every single day, even if he’s had a particularly bad day

he just loves doing things for you

he’d also love writing even more songs and sometimes even entire operas for you or about you, you’re his muse

before he was able to take breaks from bis work to focus on you for awhile

but now you’re married he just can’t be away from you for two minutes

will sit on the floor and talk to u while u shower

or he showers with u

his love language is spontaneously twirling u around and redoing ur wedding dance in the most random places

also carrying u to ur bed if u fall asleep on him or somewhere else, before marriage he’d just let u sleep there and make sure he doesn’t wake u up

such a sweetheart <3

ೃ༄ count dracula

takes his time to marry you

but that’s only because he takes a lot of time working out when and where to propose and shit

and then probably has the wedding planned before you even say yes

which obviously you do

he’d be a little cocky abt u saying yes ngl cause he already knew u would

but the wedding itself obviously takes place at night and mainly other vampires will show up, but he won’t let them remotely near you assuming he hasn’t turned you yet

if he has then go talk to them!! there’s no risk of u dying or getting turned by someone else!!

he’d also rlly like cooking for u and shit since he canonically had to sprint around his castle to make it seem like he had butlers or whatever 😭😭

how good is fucking amazing btw

like god damn

and obviously he has a comfortable ass vampire bed that he’d let u put 60 pillows on if u want

he’d also like have a thing for ur hair no matter how short or long it is

he likes standing behind u and running his hands through it when u do literally anything for funsies

and his fingers are really pretty and long and cold so they feel nice

he also brushes it a lot esp in the mornings

he also doesn’t even look another persons way when he’s with u

ever.

and his brides are now just. draculas sisters or wtv 😭

unless u want them to be ur wives too he won’t complain

as much as he loves you there’s time where he js like. wants personal time to go kill people think

id also imagine ur very close with renfield

like draculas kinda mean to him but ur rlly nice to him <3

like for example waving at him when u see him or just going “hi renfield!!”

renfields probably the one who found u ngl

i can’t think of anything else for him mb pookie 😔 i’ll add to this later

[slashingdisneypasta]

This is giving HEAVY Phantom x Reader vibes.

[yona049]

𝕻𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖔𝖒 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕺𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Part 4

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(Phantom finally returns!)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

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Disclaimer!

>Many time skips

>Rushed chapter! (pls let me know if you spot a mistake)

>This has evolved into its own story, if its not something you're interested in, feel free to skip this one and check out some other fics on my page! °v°

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A horrible taste sat in Y/n's mouth as she stared out the window at the setting sun while sitting on the bed. She'd been in thought all day, trying to figure out what to do. She'd loved Aloïs, but this Aloïs was new to her, new personality, new possessions, new life.

She's pulled from her thoughts when a gentle hand rubs her head.

"You haven't touched your dinner, mon chéri."

Erik's adorable nickname flew right over her head.

"Oh! Yes of course."

She takes the plate and spoon from Erik only to fall back into thought after the first bite. Tapping on the plate slowly with the spoon.

Erik chuckles a little before taking her hand holding the spoon.

"Shall I feed you?" he pushes the spoon onto her lip.

Y/n takes the bite delicately with butterflies dancing in her stomach. Finally her thoughts were concentrated on Erik again and she starts eating.

Erik walks back to his bed and sat facing her. With a small wetstone he rhythmically scraped the edges of his dagger.

"I think, I should give Aloïs a chance."

Erik glances up at Y/n with a pause before resuming his sharpening.

"Oh? You didn't look so compliant this morning."

"I know, but if there's any chance My Aloïs is still there, perhaps I should take it. The riches that come after, is simply insurance for us."

"Us?"

Erik questions. Y/n realizes her words and suddenly their situation becomes clearer.

"Of course, I could never dream of abandoning you. You've saved me so many times-.."

"Then why not stay with me!" his interruption seems almost threatening this time. Eyes drilling into Y/n's.

Y/n sets down the plate and walks to Erik. She kneels down infront of him and takes his hands in hers, watching the words in his eyes.

"Erik, If I were to marry Aloïs. We'd be upper class. You could finally have a chance to see her again."

Erik quickly looks away and shakes his head.

"Who are you enquiring about?"

She delicately squeezes his hands, then also looks away, down at his hands.

"You don't have to deny it. I've seen you sing with her. Even if she is far from here, you always look out the windows as if you could see her. The sparkling in your eyes Erik. I... Could never hope to compete."

Erik didn't look back but his heart ached knowing Y/n's words were true to some extent. He still loved Christine even just a little. How could he not? He'd taught her how to find her voice, listened to her prayers night after night.

Y/n stood up and planted a kiss on Erik's head, then pulling him into a hug. His arms curled around her upper legs with his head on her stomach.

Patting his head delicately she smiled at his genuine, loving hug.

"Tomorrow, when Aloïs returns, I'll give him a chance. After that, we will decide what lays ahead."

She walks out of his grasp without another word and pulls the curtains shut. Once she couldn't see Erik anymore, he looked back at her.

A thin curtain keeping their bodies and souls apart, but so did a man and a woman who they both once loved.

Y/n lifts the ring that Aloïs gave her off the bed side table to look at it, quite coincidentally, so too did Erik lift Christine's ring.

○○○○

No sooner did morning come and Y/n found herself face to face with Aloïs outside the tavern.

Him dressed in a new fancy coat while she stood in the same dress she wore yesterday. Erik up in their room but with a keen ear listening to each word.

Y/n lifts her index finger up to Aloïs and stands confidently, chest out and feet steadfast in the ground.

"One outing. One chance to show me you're still the Aloïs I knew and loved."

Aloïs's eyes light up and he is quick to take Y/n's hand and kiss it catching her off gaurd. Not a good start.

"Thank you, chéri! We could go anywhere! Anywhere you'd like!"

Y/n shakes her head and pulls her hand back rubbing it.

"I think it's best if you decide."

"Alright then! Tonight we make for the new Opera house!"

The new Opera house! Where Christine sings? It wouldn't be right towards Erik. In many ways she'd feel like she was betraying him.

Y/n shakes her head trying to quickly object but once again Aloïs's excitement gets the best of him.

"Aloïs! Hold on, we can't! Um... Because, I-I have nothing to wear! "

Aloïs grabs onto the carriage as it starts moving.

"Don't worry! I shall have a dress and other essentials sent here! I will arrive shortly before 6 to pick you up."

Using his feathered hat he waves goodbye to Y/n who is already chewing on her nail with a stiff body.

Erik peaks out the window and watches Y/n rush up the stairs.

○○○

"For the 100th time, Y/n. It's fine!"

Erik stated once again watching Y/n pull the biggest fancy blue dress out of the box it was delivered in.

"Still it doesn't feel right! After what we talked about last night. I should've stopped him sooner!"

With his hands on his hips he watches Y/n struggle with all the fancy things Aloïs sent to her for their date.

"Even if I did object, darling. We can't change it now."

Y/n, trying to pull the large frilly dress off the floor and into her arms, sighs heavily. She peaks through the bundle of a dress in her arms at Erik.

"I am sorry you have to be here alone tonight. Boris was nice enough to give us the night off. Will you be ok?"

She almost stumbles into the closed curtains to get dressed. Small sparkling bits of jewelry were spread out on the bed aswell as make up and fresh shoes.

"I'll be quite fine. I'm no stranger to one night alone. Besides, you should try to enjoy tonight."

Once again Erik watches Y/n's silhouette. She drops the dress she wore onto the floor before crawling her way in though the bottom of the hooped skirt and pushing herself through the arm and head holes.

"I won't be too long hopefully. Still, it will be nice to be back in an Opera house, all be it a completely different one."

She pulls a little and straightens out the dress and puts the shoes on the ground slipping them on. She takes the corset off the bed and pulls it around her torso then pulling the strings as much she could.

"Erik! I might need some help with the corset."

She steps out of the curtains looking down while trying to clip a necklace around the back of her neck.

"Of course I'll-..."

His words drift off once Y/n comes into full view. Her dress a beautiful dark blue with small decorated flakes of gold. A beautiful off shoulder medium length sleeve top with little white frills.

"... Help."

Finishing his sentence with a paced heart and eyes glued to Y/n. She looked so beautiful, it reminded him of all the gowns he'd seen rich woman wear going to see the Opera. A warming nostalgic feeling, mixed with astonished glances to Y/n's clean completion.

He takes a few steps to behind Y/n where he took the strings of the corset and pulled them tight.

Y/n gasped softly once the corset pushed her torso into shape. Erik's hand guide itself over her aside and onto her stomach.

A roaming hand on her stomach going up, Y/n felt the same longing for Erik's touch she'd felt many times before.

"How does it feel? Can you breath?"

Erik whispered to her sending shivers up the back of her neck.

Although she really couldn't breath because of how close Erik was, she nodded.

"Let me help with your hair."

Y/n didn't know how, but Erik seemed to know exactly how to put hair up neat and tidy. This once again brought Erik's past into question. What did he do in the Opera?

Even tho he'd answered the question before, Y/n doubted he helped only moving things around and doing maintenance.

Y/n's hair was freshly washed and dried. She hasn't worn her hair up in a while, she'd always danced with loose hair and gone her days without putting it up.

This means it was the first Erik had seen her like this. Open shoulders and beautiful neckline. He was very unsure why he felt this way for someone other than Christine.

He places a delicate kiss on Y/n's neck, again causing Y/n to gasp at the unexpected moment.

She looks back at Erik connecting with his gaze. A powerful moment from both of them. Y/n wanted to kiss Erik, he wanted exactly the same.

"You're beautiful, Y/n."

He whispers to her.

She smiles a little hearing his little praise and delicately she places her hand on the side of his head.

Nervous but entranced by her, not because she wore a fancy dress or makeup, but because of her smile, because of her lasting laughs and love to all things.

Now more than ever, he needed to decide. Loose one Dimond, or continue chasing another he'd lost sight of long ago.

Within an instant Erik's lips meet hers. Suddenly fireworks spark and all moments they've shared before mix into one. Erik's hand on her stomach push her closer towards him and Y/n grips the back of his hair lightly.

Y/n felt the warmth in his lips, soft hands holding her like he'd never let go. Body language threatening to keep her captured and protected. His forever. She'd felt his embrace so many times before, but this felt warmer than sunshine on her face.

A lasting kiss mixed with uncertainty when the sound of horses come down the street.

Y/n Quickly pulls away putting her hand over her mouth and Erik grits his teeth at the interrupted kiss.

"Erik, I'm sorry, I had no right." Y/n felt the need to apologize.

"Nonsense! This was my decision."

His hands were now shaking, his decision now greatly turned to one side. To Y/n. He wanted to tell her not to go. He wanted to hold her and run to where Aloïs couldn't touch her or even look at her again.

"Y/n-..."

"Stop!" Y/n demanded pulling Erik's hand off her stomach.

"Please don't make this harder than it is! I've tried to ignore it. I'm trying not to be selfish."

She takes a deep shaky breath and rubs her eyes keeping the tears from rushing out.

"I'm trying not to love you, because I know you love her."

With a crumpled bit of her dress squeezed in her fists she clears her throat.

"I'll be back soon, then we can talk!"

She looks up at Erik with glossed eyes then lifts her dress off the ground and running out of the room.

Erik stood frozen, his thoughts rushing with uncertain desire. A longing for another.

Y/n ran downstairs with heavy breathing and tears falling onto the floor but she shook her head and plastered on a smile.

She waved goodbye to Boris who called her pretty girl before she left, giving her a little more reason to smile.

Finally coming out of the tavern. Aloïs is stunned and offers his hand.

"My lady, beautiful as always." Aloïs complimented and placed a small kiss on her hand.

A bouquet of flowers is pulled out of the carriage and given to Y/n. She looked down at the brightly colored flowers and smelled them.

"Their beautiful, Aloïs. Thank you."

Aloïs smiled but stopped for a moment.

"You're not wearing the ring?"

Y/n shakes her head and looks back at the tavern to their room.

"I must have forgotten it."

"Well then! Let's be off, mon amour. The Opera awaits! And perhaps more good news! Christine is preforming tonight. One of the Opera performances you danced for, I think."

Helping Y/n into the carriage, their off into the night air and to the Opera. The Opera house was shining bright in the dimly lit Paris night and was visible even from the tavern.

Erik was still caught in the room, his fists clenched and his jaw locked.

A sudden swing into the wall breaking the wooden plank instantly. Heavy breathing and hair hanging over his eye.

"She is not your mon amour."

His body fuming with anger, feeling once again he was too late! Once again he'd lost to a pretty rich boy. The sunshine when he was the darkness.

He pulled his bloody splintered hand out of the wooden wall still not satisfied. He wanted to bash Aloïs's skull in. He wanted to take Y/n and tell her he loved her, how it took him this long to realize was his own wrong doing.

Her teary and frightened eyes popping into his head. How could someone so beautiful look so sad. Erik felt all the signs flood back from hidden memories.

Y/n's gentle voice helping him stay awake while she carried him after the fire. Her soft hand washing his wound. Her smile not fearing his face. Never once did she shutter away from his touch. All he wanted was to see her smile so happily after a long night's dance.

He made a decision. He wasn't going to let the fool take her, he would take her first.

He once again pushed out the false bottom out of the closet floor to reveal a white mask and black cape along with clothing he wore once before.

He chuckles deeply and pulls the mask onto his face.

"I'll need you once again, old friend. Beware, the Phantom of the Opera."

With a maniacal laughter he swings his cloak on and dissappears into darkness.

○○○

The Opera house burned bright with people and chatter! Golden statues of beautiful men and woman, and a miraculous staircase upon entering.

Y/n felt so out of place when walking on the red carpet. Not even a speck of dust on the polished floors.

Her eyes dazzled with excitement and she'd never felt so far from home.

"Erik! Look at the chandelier!" she pointed with a gloved hand.

Aloïs turns away from his conversation with another older looking noble couple and runs up to her.

"Darling! It's quite beautiful isn't it!"

He quickly puts his arm around her waist and pulls her to his side.

"Don't mind her silly little mind. She gets confused who she's with sometimes."

He explains to the couple. Y/n's mind quickly corrects itself remembering Erik isn't here and her cheeks flush.

Aloïs takes her hand and kisses it before pulling it to his heart.

"My darling Y/n and I are celebrating our engagement! Aren't we?"

Y/n looks at Aloïs confused for a second before the nobel woman claps her hands together happily.

"That's wonderful! I'm happy that the daughter of the famous dancer, will marry my nephew, soon."

Aloïs smiles proudly.

"Yes! Quite a spectacle! Now if you'll excuse us. We have many people to meet."

Aloïs bows his head gently and pulls Y/n towards another couple giving Y/n a chance to plant her feet in the ground and stop.

Her eyes move to Aloïs's with a stern glare.

"Aloïs. We didn't agree to this! We agreed that after I'd make my decision."

Aloïs sighs then nods with a guilty sigh.

"I know, mon amor. But I'm very confident in your answer. As I've said. This is a better life. Besides, I don't want you to rot in that tavern any longer."

His fingertips delicately brush over her cheek and he smiles.

"You're my darling, Y/n. I will keep you safe, till the end of your days until you die comfortably in a silk bed with as many fur children you'd like."

Y/n looks away for a second before thinking of Erik's face, the expression he made every night listening to Christine sing in their cramped little room. She could help him as much as she could help herself.

She looks back up at Aloïs with his glittering outfit and fine polished shoes. Her hand reaches for his bicep and she smiles.

"W-who else do we need to meet? Um.. Darling?"

Aloïs once again smiles with joy and pulls her off to another noble man where she smiles carefully and nods politely.

By the time they arrived in box 5 high above the stage, Y/n was exhausted. She sunk into her seat like a tierd dad after work. She took a breath and quickly straightens herself out to sit straight.

She looks around the box because she'd always wondered why rich nobles found these seats so desirable. She could see the entire stage, tho it was a little far to make out the details.

Aloïs still with heaps of energy flips though the thin paper pamphlet and leans over to Y/n.

"Ah! This opera is the same one that Christine debuted in. I remember her white dress, it took incredibly long to sew all those little white pearls into the dress!"

Y/n smiles and nods.

"I remember, your hands had so many bandaids on for weeks, I was worried about you."

Aloïs puts the pamphlet onto his lap and lifts Y/n's hand to place a small kiss on her knuckles.

"I remember the small cuts, but I remember how you kissed each finger and held me so gently when we fell asleep. "

His thumb traces over her fingers as he stares at them thinking.

"One day, I will create a white dress for you too, mi amor."

For a very small moment, Y/n felt her heart spark. Her Aloïs was starting to shine though again.

Aloïs pulls his hand back and the light dims.

Suddenly a spotlight on stage and the play begins. Dancers fill the stage and Y/n couldn't help her excitement. She clapped watching a dance she knew off by heart. Her feet started bouncing with her urge to dance.

Aloïs smiled and placed a small kiss on her cheek then whispered into her ear.

"Your passion burns bright and beautiful, Y/n."

Another spark made Y/n giggle genuinely before she looks back at the stage.

The orchestra starts with a sudden blast of music filling the large Opera house. Up close and personal she could hear a voice start off with a strong note.

The spotlight shifts, and there she was. The famous and beautiful, Christine Daaé. Y/n's friend and inspiration to dance.

Her toes point on instinct in the very uncomfortable shoes which reminded her not to act like a child.

She presses her lips together and dims down her excitement to a gentle foot tap.

She watches the opening Opera sequence and soon the play has begun. Actors singing out their lines and an occasional cheers from the crowd.

Y/n took full advantage of moments of cheers to yell her support, knowing all the effort that goes into each play. The preparation and weeks of rehearsals.

Nearing the end of the play Y/n is fully distracted by the singing beauty, she didn't notice the quietly approaching figure behind her. A hand slowly reaching for her shoulder and suddenly grabbing it.

Y/n jumps suddenly and turns to look. An old noblmen with wine in his hand and quite drunk.

The noblmen slurs as he asks.

"Has the play started yet, Aloïs?"

Aloïs takes the mans hand off her shoulder quickly and pulls him towards him.

"Monsieur Du Beu, you're in the wrong box I'm afraid."

Y/n shakes her head and tries to focus on the Opera. After some time, Aloïs and the noblmen were still talking about business? Or something. Y/n tried to ignore it, but the chatter was too loud.

She bit her lip before deciding to slip out and closer to the stage.

"I'm going to get some fresh air." she whispers and Aloïs nods back acknowledging.

She lifts her big dress and hurries down the corridor towards the stage. The rooms were dark and very dimly lit until she saw a bright little room, calling her towards it.

She smiles once entering seeing a dressing room with many little bits of dresses and costumes.

She spots one in particular hung over a chair in the middle of the room, from the play being performed right now and smiles to herself.

She lifts the dancing dress and presses it against her body measuring.

"Perhaps they wouldn't mind if I borrowed this? Only for this dance number. No one will see me! "

She convinced herself in her excitement to dance formally again.

She quickly dresses in the dress and pulls on some dancing shoes she found with the dress. Wierd how it fit so perfectly?

She taps her toes on the ground to nuzzle her feet into each cranny comfortably.

Sneaking back out into the corridor she looks for an open space where she could preform the next dance number coming up.

It was a dance that required a partner and usually, it was only one duo dancing on center stage. No background dancers. Only the singer in the front corner.

Finally in the darkness she sees a large open room, incredibly dark but she could dance the routine there.

She smiled taking her place in the middle of the room lifting her arms and waiting for the music to echo from the stage. Something felt too perfect about this. And it turns out, she was quite right.

Suddenly, the lights go on and the curtains whoosh open to reveal the entire audience infront of her. Somehow she'd wandered right onto stage, into some kind of trap? Now she needed to preform the dance for real.

Y/n stood frozen in place, both from shock and terror from how she'd gotten herself into this mess.

The dance partner walks behind bed and moves his hand around her waist ready to start the choreography. A dance partner she had no practice time with whatsoever.

She looked up at Aloïs who looked back. He was confused, he couldn't tell if Y/n stood on stage because it was too far. So he kept watching.

The music starts and Christine is stood in the front corner, singing her musical number. Each step Y/n takes is on fire, with fear that someone would realize she's not the right dancer.

As she and this stranger dances together, she hears a deep chuckle.

"So stiff? Wondering how you possibly wandered onto stage?"

Y/n's head turns to look at the partner she'd gotten and once again she's shot with another surprise.

A white mask she'd never seen up close. But everyone knows of after the fire. The man who kidnapped Christine and set the flames ablaze.

The Phantom of the Opera was now lifting her into the air and following each step of the dance precisely.

His mask was so well blended with the costumes actors wore. No audience member would feel the need to be alert.

White mask and black sleek back hair, a thick coat and formal wear only a nobleman would wear. Y/n couldn't be sure, but she knew to some extent, it must be the Phantom.

"Phantom.."

She questioned in a whisper.

"So you do recognize me."

He confirms her suspicious and spins her round.

She stops spinning and only takes small steps on her toes. Her shock turns to anger.

"You criminal! Monster! Murderer!"

She growls and felt the need to pull away and run! But the Phantom grabs her hands and pulls her back into his chest as the dance routine commanded.

"Now, now my dear. You wouldn't want to alert anyone that you're not where you're supposed to be."

She looks at the audience and then at Aloïs before pressing her lips together into a smile.

"Are you trying to get to Christine again! Well there she is! Go get her!"

Y/n taunts with an angry glare.

She steps back throwing her body back into a dip, trusting the Phantoms arm around her wist to catch and pull her back to her feet. Following each dance step to a T.

"I'm not here for Christine."

On beat he takes her chin and moves it to look at him.

"I'm here for you."

His words deep and mysterious, but somehow Y/n believed every part of it.

She felt her body shake in fear. Her mind spun back to the fire that burnt her lover. Almost killed her, and had killed so many others that she loved. Her home burnt to ashes, causing so much pain for her to start over.

She took this oppertunity to push herself out of phantoms arms and run to the front of the stage.

"Aloïs-.."

She screamed, but she's quickly pulled back into Phantom's arms. His black gloved hand covering her mouth and nose restricting her breathing. He pulled her to the back of the stage.

Aloïs finally caught on and jumped to his feet.

"It's the Phantom of the Opera!"

His voice loud enough to echo through the quiet opera house. The music brought to a sudden halt and Christine stopped singing. Everyone starts to panic and rush to the exit.

Y/n still kicking and trying to pull Phantom's hand off her mouth, felt her vision blur and her body slowly goes limp. Knowing Y/n couldn't run, Phantom pulls Y/n against him holding her securely.

He smirks suddenly wrapping Y/n in his cloak and grabbing hold of a roap that hung at the back of the stage. Precisely placed and planned.

With a zip of a mechanism, Y/n and Phantom are pulled through the air and out of sight.

"NO! Y/N!"

Aloïs yells and suddenly runs out of the box throwing off his coat.

He rushes towards the stage with some guards following closely behind. With a slide and a turn he enters the costume room where he spotted the, big puffy blue dress Y/n wore, on the ground.

Ontop of her dress was a note and a white rose with a black bow tied around the stem.

Aloïs takes the note that read 'I remembered her. Now she is here with me, I've decided.'

Aloïs growls and crumpled the note in his hand. He turns to the soldiers and yells.

"Search the Opera house basement! Search the tavern! FIND HER! Find Y/N!"

[oniikabuto]

haiii.. i stumbled upon ur blog and might i respectfully say I am DIGGING it u literally seem so cool!?!! i also saw ur requests were open, so i wanted to send something!!! umm i am also Too shy to do this on my main. So.

cld i mayb request headcanons erik (2004 movie ver!!!) with a fem s/o who's rlly introverted, soft-spoken and generally scared of people (social anxiety!!).. just general relationship headcanons and such!!! sorry this request is So long! if you'd like, it can be a mix of sfw + nsfw. ty ❗❗❤️

2004 erik x soft/shy reader

synopsis: headcanons with erik x a shy and soft-spoken reader!

characters: gerik (2004 erik)

a/n: tysm <3 and also ty for being my first poto request!! and yea i felt that so hard. i almost never req on main either 😭 also ur request is not long at all dont even worry ab it <3

notes: little tiny bit of nsfw bonus at the end...?!?,@

erik, of all people, knows how that feels.

secretly, he likes that you don't really like being around people as often because that means you'll spend more time with him, down in his lair.

it may be selfish of him... but he needs u :(

but in any case, you end up spending a lot more time down with him than anywhere else, bc that's where it feels safe

really it just gets to a point where people wonder if there are TWO opera ghosts now.

he finds it funny to have you sign off on his letters too

O.G. in his elegant cursive and O.G. II in your loopy, small hand.

he takes you up to box five to watch performances together. sometimes he studies your features and the way you laugh, clap, gasp in surprise at the scenes. he finds it endearing.

especially when it's his own, self-written opera. his pride soars sm

nsfw

he's so soft and sweet and patient

u almost wanna cry

he stops and asks if everything is okay very frequently after realizing you never stop him to ask for anything.

he worries that you're in an uncomfortable position or something and you won't tell him!

lots and lots of praise

you're his perfect beautiful angel <3

sweet and gentle with u always

[hotpinkboots]

~~~~~

~"𝓡𝓮𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓪𝓵𝓼"~

(Erik Destler x Fem!Reader Fluff)

Summary: Erik had intended to assist you in rehearsing for the next performance. He soon finds he cannot be near you for long without melting in your mere presence.

Warning(s): It is mentioned that the actor the Reader must perform with is perverted (Erik isn't having that dw)

How long it took to write: 4 Hours

~~~~~

The orchestra thundered from above the Phantom's lair, muffled, but loud enough for you and your lover to feel and hear. The world had stopped spinning, this moment in time was the only moment that had ever existed- it felt as though the world had been created just for the two of you. You danced across the floor with the Opera Ghost, Erik, of whose name only was allowed to grace your ears, and to be silenced and secret from all others.

Erik had insisted that he lead your dance rehearsals for this Opera, for seeing you dance lovingly with another man filled his chest with a fit of restricting jealousy so hot that it burned like wildfire. His fury was only heightened further when he had spotted the man earlier, staring at you in a perverted manner just as he had stared at all the other women. Erik would not allow you to be touched by the man longer than you had to on stage.

There was not much room to dance, but it sufficed. Anytime you'd knock a lit candle over, he'd catch the candelabra with a nimble hand without needing to tear his gaze away from your sweet features. His gloved hands guided your movements knowingly, for he had an excellent memory that allowed him to memorize and understand a dance in only a few practices.

After rehearsing the dance three times, Erik had decided he'd grown bored of it. The dramatic steps faded into a basic gentle box step. Erik's gloved hand lifted to smooth back the frizzed baby hairs on your hairline. He leaned in to press his warm lips against your forehead, allowing the kiss to linger. He turned his head to rest his left cheek atop your head. "You dance beautifully. Like an angel."

Your Phantom had compared you to the most heavenly of angels countless times. Although you may have gotten used to it with how often he repeated it, it never lost meaning for him. The masked gentleman truly found you to be the most divine of all. You were his angel, his goddess, his salvation.

You returned his affections by gliding the pads of your fingers tenderly up and down the back of his neck. He suppressed a shudder at the feel of your loving fingertips. How touch-starved he was to shudder at a simple caress. "Thank you," you accepted his sweet compliment humbly, a smile gracing your lips.

~~~~~

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~~~~~

~Love, PinkBoots

[n1ght0f-nyx]

hiiiiii i'm a big phantom of the opera fan. Could i please please please request a fic where the reader works in the opera house and she has a panic attack but the phantom sees her and sings to calm her down <33333

Song in the Dark

erik destler (the phantom) x gn reader!

The reader, working in the opera house, has a panic attack and hides in a dark corner. The Phantom finds her, sees her distress, and sings a calming song.

warnings- not a realistic panic attack, anxiety

word count: 889 words

divder by kodaswrld

The grandiose halls of the Paris Opera House echoed with the sound of rehearsals. Dancers glided across the stage, singers belted high notes, and behind the scenes, the workers were bustling—adjusting props, fixing costumes, and preparing for the upcoming performance. You, one of the backstage hands, found yourself moving at a rapid pace, trying to keep up with the demands of the day.

But something was different today. There was a tension in your chest that hadn’t been there before. The pressure of work, the fast pace, the noise—it all began to blur together, and suddenly, your world felt as if it was spinning out of control.

You stumbled into a shadowy corner near the labyrinthine hallways beneath the opera house, clutching your chest. Your breaths became shallow, your heart raced, and your mind was swirling with thoughts you couldn’t quiet. You had read about panic attacks before, but nothing could have prepared you for the overwhelming feeling of dread. Your hands trembled as you slid to the ground, tears welling in your eyes.

Suddenly, amidst the darkness and chaos in your mind, a voice emerged from the shadows. Soft, soothing, and hauntingly beautiful, it called out to you.

"Do not be afraid, little one. You are safe here."

The voice wrapped around you like a gentle embrace. Though your heart still raced, you couldn’t help but focus on the sound. A figure stepped into the dim light, cloaked in shadows, yet unmistakable—the Phantom. His white mask gleamed against the darkened walls, and his presence, though intimidating, was oddly comforting in that moment.

He crouched beside you, his voice low and melodic. "You must breathe. Listen to me."

You tried to take a deep breath, but the tightness in your chest remained. Your vision blurred with tears, and you found yourself sinking further into the panic. Sensing your struggle, the Phantom leaned closer, and without a word, he began to sing.

His voice, rich and deep, flowed through the narrow space. The melody was unfamiliar, but it was calm and gentle, like a lullaby meant to soothe a frightened child. The notes filled the air, wrapping around you, coaxing you to focus on the sound rather than the chaos inside your mind.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered between verses.

You obeyed, closing your eyes and listening to his song. The tension in your chest slowly began to ease, as if the weight of your panic was being lifted by the very sound of his voice. You could hear every note, every gentle rise and fall in the melody, and it felt like the world around you had stopped spinning.

The Phantom continued to sing, his voice a balm to your frayed nerves. He wasn’t just singing to calm you down—he was singing for you, as if each note was crafted with you in mind. His presence, once feared by so many in the opera house, felt like a lifeline in your moment of vulnerability.

Gradually, your breathing steadied. The tightness in your chest loosened, and the tears that had spilled over your cheeks began to dry. The panic that had gripped you so fiercely was now fading, replaced by a sense of calm, and the comfort of knowing that someone had been there for you when you needed it most.

When you finally opened your eyes, the Phantom had stopped singing. He was still close, his eyes fixed on you, though half his face remained hidden by his iconic mask. You swallowed hard, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you, though you weren’t sure what to say.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

The Phantom’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though there was something unreadable in his gaze. “There is no need to thank me. The music has always had the power to heal... to calm the soul.”

He rose to his feet with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly and extended a hand to you. Hesitant at first, you took it, allowing him to help you to your feet. Even after the panic had subsided, there was something grounding about his touch.

"You should rest," he said, his voice softer now, almost tender. "The opera will still be here when you are ready."

You nodded, still feeling the aftershocks of your anxiety, but the weight had lifted. The Phantom gave you a final, enigmatic glance before turning away, his figure melting back into the shadows from which he had emerged.

As you watched him disappear into the darkness, you couldn’t help but feel that something had changed within you. Perhaps it was the Phantom’s song, or perhaps it was the realization that, even in the deepest corners of the opera house, even in the midst of fear, you were not alone.

And somewhere, deep in the bowels of the opera house, the Phantom sang on.

[willows-escape]

Carpe Diem - Musical!Erik x Reader

Pairing: Musical!Erik x Fem!Reader

Summary: You'd received possibly the worst news a high status woman could receive in their entire life time, and you had only one thought and one goal in mind. Erik had a different one.

Warnings: angst, forced marriage, a lot of crying, jealousy, uninformed consent (?), almost getting caught, oral (f and m receiving), finger sucking, vaginal fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, crying during sex, forced mask reveal, mentions of murder, gaslighting, manipulation, kidnapping

Words: 9570

Notes: sorry this took so long, coursework's a pain in the ass and i've written and deleted what i've wanted to write so many times. i've written seven different stories at this point and rewritten them each at least three times. i decided to pull back all the complexity of what i was originally going for and ending up with this thing.

i tried to make the phantom more submissive because i know people wanted to read that but musical!erik just doesn't feel submissive to me, at least not in this kind of scenario. he's just too much of a control freak i feel and i think he would become more of a switch later into a relationship when he grows comfortable.

hopefully i don't take so long to write my next thing in future, and i pray i continue to improve in my writing skills lol.

You were in flight, your heart pounding a thunderous rhythm in your chest, matching the frenzied drumming of your feet against the opera house's ancient wooden floors. Every sinew in your body screamed in protest, yet you willed yourself to run faster, harder. The adrenaline coursing through your veins drowned out all thought, all reason, save for one - you have to get to the rooftop.

Your relentless fate was stealthily stalking you, icy tendrils of fear unfurling down your spine, as you envisioned the pitiless roots of destiny relentlessly chasing you, eager to entangle you within their remorseless clutches. The letter you gripped in your trembling hand was the harbinger of your impending doom, a chilling memento of the ominous vow you had once made.

As you turned the corner, your heart pounded in your chest as you darted up the flight of stairs towards the clandestine meeting point. The anticipation hung heavy in the air, matching the dusky sky's ethereal haze. As nightfall descended, it signalled the time when both of you could shed your public facades and bask in the tranquillity of each other's presence, shrouded in shadows and secrecy.

Every muscle in your thighs and calves screamed in protest, pleading for mercy as you drove yourself onward. You forced yourself through each step. As you pushed through the final barrier, the rooftop door swung open, revealing your destination. A gust of crisp, cold air met your face, a shocking contrast against the sweltering heat of your exertion. The sudden chill cut through the stifling humidity clinging to your skin, offering a brief, but sweet, respite.

"Erik? Erik, where are you?" you called out aimlessly, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

The tension of anticipation didn't linger long. Soon, the haunting familiarity of the black suit and porcelain mask punctuated your line of sight. A smile, so ignorant and blissful, graced his hidden face, while your own mirrored nothing but distress. As your eyes met, his smile faltered and a sense of panic ignited within his gaze.

"Has somebody hurt you?" The first conclusion came tumbling out of his lips as he rushed to stand in front of you, hands reaching out to caress your arms.

An onslaught of feelings of safety and security besieged you. The caress of his gentle touch, his sugar-coated words, and the purity of his love stood stark against the frigid future looming ahead - ice-cold eyes, indifferent touch, and a home that was nothing more than an glorified prison. Your vision blurred, as if submerged underwater, with briny tears carving trails down your icy cheeks. Your body convulsed with splutters and coughs, surrendering to the raw unravelling of your emotions.

"My dear, please, who did this to you?" His voice wavered, desperation tinging his plea. "I can't bare to see you like this," he confessed, his heart aching to draw you into his arms, to cocoon you in a protective embrace. Yet, his hands twitched with uncertainty, unaccustomed to offering unbidden comfort and tormented by the fear of making the wrong choice.

Struggling, you gasped for the words that seemed to evade your grasp. Finally, in a pitiful whimper, you managed to choke out the truth, "My father. It's my father."

"He has hurt you?" His words, taut with restrained fury, barely managed to mask the cataclysmic rage broiling within his core. His eyes flamed with the intensity of a thousand suns, pledging an unspoken oath that he would move heavens and earth to guard you from any harm. He would not let this happen again, his earlier leniency was a mistake he wouldn't repeat.

"No... well, yes, sort of," you stammered, every word a struggle as tears choked your speech. Your sentences, muddled and hardly coherent, tumbled out in a rush. He stood there, a silent pillar of patience amidst your storm. "The curtain had just fallen on tonight's performance, when Madame Giry found me, said someone had come to the Opera Populaire with a letter for me. I ventured backstage, and – and –”

"Take your time," he reassured you, trying to keep his tone soft and soothing when he was feeling anything but that.

"My father," you began, your voice trembling slightly, "He sent this to me," you raised your arm, presenting him with the damning parchment that bore the news, "It declares that I have a single week to make my return... and to dutifully submit to his wishes, to bind myself in marriage to a man he's handpicked for me.”

As the words tore from your lips, a deluge of sobs overpowered you, shattering your composure into fragments. You crumpled onto the frigid concrete, your body convulsing with the ferocity of your wails, echoing the raw torment festering within.

"He has already decided my fate, to wed me to Alexander Beaumont, heir to one of the wealthiest fortunes in Paris. But, Erik, I cannot bear the thought! I'd choose the most excruciating demise before even contemplating marrying him!" Your tears began to mingle with your snot, humiliation gnawing your insides, knowing he was bearing witness to your disarray. Yet, you were powerless to stop it, and no amount of snivelling could quell the impending sense of doom building within you.

Erik was consumed by a fury so intense, it was a blinding white light in his mind. Thousands of brutal scenarios played out in rapid succession, each a unique way he could annihilate the man who dared to pull you away from him. The man who had reduced you to nothing more than a pawn, a puppet to be used in his ruthless climb up the social ladder.

"I've met him before, his gaze piercing through me, speaking of me as though I were a mere fly on the wall... If I were to wed him, I'd be reduced to nothing more than a trophy wife, imprisoned within the confines of a household, expected to bear children annually until nature robs me of the ability," you choked out between sobs, bitterly recalling his elaborate discourse to your father about his archaic aspirations for a wife, a die-hard traditionalist to his core.

"The Opera Populaire, an impossibility now. My friends, forever out of reach. And you... you, I shall never feast my eyes upon again." The tears assaulted you, battering you with the unrelenting force of a tempest as the brutal reality bore down, each tick of the clock amplifying the sting of truth.

"Then don't go," he uttered, his words masquerading as a suggestion, yet ringing with the commanding tone of a demand, "Don't return home, do not bend to your father's will. There's always another escape, always."

"Oh, Erik," your voice broke, anguish seeping into each syllable, "I can't." A hard lump constricted your throat, the bitter reality of your predicament sinking in. "My father...he wields power, he has influence. If I dare not return, all of Paris would be hunting me down, a bounty on my head. I'm cornered, Erik. I'm left with no other choice."

Before he could utter another syllable, you swiftly eradicated the residue that had amassed on your skin and surged to your feet. Your eyes were ablaze with a bloodshot hue, stray teardrops stubbornly tracing a path down your face. Yet, an unyielding determination was etched across your features. You yearned for one final moment, one last poignant memory before the unavoidable reality of leaving him forever would consume you.

"Take me," you urged in a hushed plea, your gaze ensnaring him with such profound intensity that he was left with no room to misconstrue your meaning. Your purpose was undeniable, and it struck him into stillness. "Please, I beg you, do not deny me this final experience, this closing moment of exhilaration. For I am to be condemned.”

Your fragility was palpable, an image of vulnerability and innocence that made the idea of your bodies entwining, your souls merging into one, nearly impossible to suppress. Erik was gripped by a relentless thought; this encounter wouldn't be your last. A scheme was rapidly taking shape in his mind, a bold plan that he was awaiting the opportunity to enact. Yet, beneath it all, he was merely a mortal, how could he resist such a sweet opportunity laid before him?

As though your initial plea wasn't potent enough, you read his silence as a stark rejection. With a desperate urgency, you persisted, "I must experience what it means to unite with someone who harbours a profound love for me, and whom I equally adore, before time steals this chance forever. This is my final request of you, please, grant me this.”

Every trace of Erik's reservations - his mask, his insecurities, his lack of experience - evaporated in an instant. His entire being was consumed by the sight of your pleading eyes and enticing lips, desperately imploring him to make love to you. The intensity of your need, your last request born out of the fear of never seeing him again, ignited a scorching fire in his abdomen. His slacks tightened unbearably as his body responded to the raw desire coursing through him.

He didn't respond with words. Instead, his body lunged forward, crashing against yours, his lips desperately colliding with yours in an intoxicating, chaotic ballet. It was flawlessly imperfect, devoid of rhythm or pattern, yet it echoed the sheer intensity of your shared lust and fervour. A surge of electricity coursed through your veins, your skin prickling, your stomach churning with a heady mix of anxiety and exhilaration as you passionately kissed him.

Small, desperate gasps and whimpers escaped your trembling lips as they urgently sought his, the icy chill of Paris causing a cascade of goosebumps to erupt across your skin. You clung to him with a ferocity born of pure, raw fear, as if you were precariously perched on the brink of an abyss and he was the only tether keeping you from plummeting into the void. He was your sole anchor in a sea of chaos, the only force keeping you alive.

The searing heat of your skin beneath his fingertips sent his mind spiralling, the sensation of you - so soft, so yielding under his hands, a staggering, unfamiliar experience. He could feel the rhythmic surge and ebb of your chest, your breath, a hot whisper against his face as your lips clashed and fused, time and time again - he was certain he could feel the pulsating rhythm of your veins as your blood roared through your body. So vivid, so fiercely alive.

Inescapably, the mask had turned into an intolerable burden. Each movement caused it to ruthlessly scrape against your skin, the epidermis painfully inflamed and raw. With a heavy sense of reluctance, you retreated, your eyes slowly fluttering open to behold the breath taking spectacle of your angel, gasping for air, his eyes wide and darkened with intensity.

"My love," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers nervously fiddling with the lapels of his coat. "I know this is a significant request..." The tension hung heavy in the air between you two. "But, would you consider... removing your mask?" Your heart pounded in your chest as you dared to meet his eyes. "It's been catching on my skin, and it's starting to hurt. If it's too much, I understand! We can find another way. It's just that... I yearn to see all of you, unobstructed."

His expression shifted to one of grave solemnity. Deep within, he had known this moment would arrive, yet he had clung to the hope that it would be delayed, that he could savour more of you and this opportunity before you were cruelly torn from his grasp. Now, his countenance was a spectacle of terror, a sight so horrific that he was certain it would repel you instantly, forever severing any connection you could have had. It was this dread, this fear of losing you, that compelled him to deny your request.

"No," he declared, his voice cold and final, making it clear he had no intention of prolonging this conversation any further.

A lump formed in your throat, a silent reflection of the tension in the air. His features were chiselled, hardened as if sculpted by an unseen force. His eyes, unyielding and intense, bore into you, commanding silence without uttering a single word. You were far from foolish, aware that any protest would shatter the brittle tranquillity of the moment. Respecting his unspoken plea, you held your tongue, allowing the silence to envelop the space between you.

You plunged back into the fervour of your previous kisses, this time contorting awkwardly to keep your face clear of the cold, threatening porcelain weapon. With each passing moment, you fought to maintain the connection, a bizarre dance with a man whose full face you'd never seen. A wave of filth washed over you, a creeping sense you should be drowning in shame, but you found no room for such feelings. Not when his touch set your skin ablaze with desire.

His hands settled on the small of your back, gently rubbing above the fabric of your dress. You naturally moved closer, your soft chest against his solid one. Your hands wandered, touching every part of him within reach.

"Is this what you call a lovers outing, Piangi? It's cold and dirty!" The piercing voice of the renowned prima donna erupted from the rooftop entrance, slicing through the silence. You and Erik froze.

"Ah, forgive me, my love," replied her lover, his familiar Italian accent flooding through his words. His voice sounded awkward and dejected. One could almost imagine his look of shame, realizing his romantic gesture wasn't appreciated. "I wanted to look at the stars with you, but if that's not what you desire-"

"Forget it," Carlotta spat out. The echo of footsteps approaching sent jolts of panic through your veins, your heart hammering against your ribcage. Erik, however, remained calm amongst the chaos. His fingers laced through yours, pulling you urgently towards the shadowed sanctuary of the rooftop's far corner.

"If you get too cold, dear, I have my coat with me. Just say the word and I will give it to you," Piangi spoke, his voice straining with the effort to pierce through Carlotta's gloom.

As their voices clashed in petty discord, a sudden blast of searing air prickled the nape of your neck. Goosebumps erupted across your skin, your hair bristling on end. A whispered command, laced with urgency, pierced the tension, "Stay behind me and follow. Make no noise. Not even a whisper."

With a sense of increasing trepidation, you gave a tense nod. You watched, breath held, as Erik emerged from your concealed sanctuary, prowling the expanse of the rooftop with a predator's stealth. He would intermittently halt, shielding himself within various makeshift hideaways. You hastened to mirror his movements, until at last, you found yourself inside the familiar confines of the opera house. His hand ensnared yours, his grip firm yet comforting, as he urged you onwards into the unknown.

It didn't take long before he ceased his steps, drawn like a magnet to the first mirror you encountered. His grip on your hand slackened for a fleeting moment, his fingers dancing over the wall in a cryptic rhythm. There was a tense hush, then the sharp click echoed in the silence, and the mirror slid back with a menacing grace to unveil a hidden passageway.

"What on earth?" you whispered, a tremor in your voice as you gazed upon the hole in the wall where once a mirror was.

Erik wheeled around abruptly, a sense of urgency flickering in his eyes as he extended his hand to you. You paused, uncertainty clouding your features, "Where does this passageway lead? Where are you taking me?"

"Trust me," he implored, his voice barely a whisper, yet carrying an undertone of desperation.

You swallowed, your throat tight with a mix of fear and anticipation. The situation and context around it weighed heavily on your mind, a potent cocktail of potential consequences swirling before you. The silence was deafening as you deliberated, the seconds stretching into what felt like an eternity. Then, with a deep, steadying breath, you extended a trembling hand towards him, a silent acquiescence. You nodded, a solemn gesture of trust, surrendering your fate into his hands.

He responded with a nod of his own, guiding you towards the opening. The entrance was inconveniently elevated from the ground - not to an extreme where a leap was required - but enough to pose a considerable risk. With a firm grip, he assisted you as you stepped inside, ensuring the voluminous folds of your dress evaded entanglement. He trailed in your wake, the air heavy with anticipation.

With a precise touch, he activated a concealed point on the wall, causing the mirror to slide back into normalcy. The echo of silence descended, the only sound being the synchronization of your breaths reverberating through the confined passageway. A whirlwind of questions swirled in your mind, each one violently dismissed as the realisation of your shared purpose gripped you. Of what you were coming down here to do.

He steered you through a maze of bewildering turns, his whispers of caution echoing in the cold, damp air. His grip on your hand was constant, a lifeline in the suffocating darkness. His familiarity with the convoluted tunnels was unsettling, and a chilling worry gnawed at you, as you wondered what hidden dangers made him tread with such measured care.

Soon you were greeted by a lake, its misty greens and blues shimmering so bright it twinkled like glitter. The view was mesmerising, the many candles scattered around lending the stone walls a glorious golden glow that took your breath away. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, the foliage blending together beautifully as it decorated the walls. You gasped.

He guided you towards a gondola which was tethered to a stout wooden stake driven deep into the ground. With a steadying hand, he aided your entrance into the vessel, ensuring your balance as you nestled into the boat's hollow core. Following your lead, he stepped in with calculated caution, his grip closing around a weathered paddle, poised at the ready to commence the strenuous task of rowing.

"What is this place?" You asked, ogling at the scenery around you.

"My home, my hiding place, the Phantom's lair, the sewers under the opera house..." he drawled off, beginning to row, "whichever one you wish to call it. All apply."

"You live down here?" You questioned, your brow furrowed as the icy air bit harshly at your exposed skin. The beauty of the place was undeniable, yet it held a chilling solitude that whispered of profound isolation, making it a daunting place to inhabit.

"Since I was a young boy," he spoke as if the words that spilled from his lips held no weight.

You couldn't shake the thought that something terrifying lurked beneath the mask. He had warned you, but you'd never considered how truly terrible it could be until now. Your eyebrows shot up, eyes dilating as your mind spun wildly with grotesque possibilities. What could be so monstrous about his visage that he was compelled to conceal it in the depths of a dank cellar?

Clearly, you had no intention of broaching the topic; it would undoubtedly ruin your plans for the evening. Yet, as the journey unfolded, you became lost in a whirlwind of contemplation, feverishly imagining the concealed face beneath the mask. Your affection was unwavering, regardless of how horrific his face was you'd feel the same way, but the mystery added an exhilarating layer of intrigue that consumed you.

Within mere minutes of fervent rowing, the silhouette of land loomed ahead, jolting you from your daze back into reality. You remained in the confines of the boat as Erik disembarked with calculated precision. He secured the boat with a swift, practiced motion, restoring the paddle to its rightful place. Then, he pivoted towards you, his hand outstretched in an offer of assistance, his eyes locked onto yours.

You smiled graciously, accepting his helping hand as you stepped out of the boat. You were enchanted, looking around at his home and how it was decorated. It was beyond your wildest imagination, intriguing and enigmatic, labyrinthine and gothic.

You were struck by the vast arrangement of candles. They casted a dim, dancing light which bathed the walls in an ethereal glow, casting long, eerie shadows on the dank stone. There was a majestic, ornate pipe organ, and a big mirror off to the side. All the way in the farthest corner, you spotted a bed, grand and draped in heavy, dark fabrics. You were in awe.

Erik did not give you long to stand and stare, as he was quick to pull you in the direction of where his bed resided. After a long, unfamiliar journey, you found yourself standing at your ultimate destination.

Anxiety, like a shadowy predator, stalked and then launched itself upon you, its claws sinking deep into your psyche. Your blood surged in a torrent, your heart hammered an urgent rhythm against your ribs, and your palms became slick with cold sweat as the full weight of your hasty agreement descended upon you.

"Now, it's my turn to pose the question," Erik initiated, his every footstep purposefully resonating tension as he incrementally diminished the space between you both. Your eyes, wide and alert, mirrored the mounting suspense. "Will you do this with me? Allow us to feel each other, become one, before you are to leave and never return?"

Tears welled threateningly in your eyes, a bitter reminder to the tortuous ordeal that loomed above. A personal hell was waiting, embodied in the stony indifference of your father and the pitiless gaze of your suitor. Discarding caution and fear, you hurled yourself against him with the force of a dead weight. In the face of despair, your inner flame roared back to life, desperation clawing its way to the surface once more.

His arms coiled around you with an intensity that left your breath hitched, his lips fiercely claiming yours. With a sudden, swift motion, he hoisted you into the air, your legs automatically snaking around his waist in response. He gently, yet assertively, laid you upon the cool sheets of the bed. He loomed over you. He began to crawl atop, compelling your legs to part in silent compliance. A gasp of anticipation escaped your lips, swallowed by his own, as you felt the weight of him gradually descend upon you.

As you kissed, the inadvertent brush of his crotch against your core sent a jolt through you, driving your senses into a wild frenzy. The searing heat from his arousal, even through the barrier of his trousers, was palpable, each pulsating throb a teasing promise of what was to come. Your breath hitched, heart pounding in your chest, as saliva-slick tongues ventured into uncharted territories, escalating the tension that hung in the air.

Driven by instinct, Erik's hands made a beeline for your sleeves, yanking with an insatiable restlessness, a silent plea for their removal. You countered his advances, pushing him back, a giggle escaping you at his stubborn demeanour. Undeterred, his lips sought new territory, latching onto the sensitive expanse of your neck, peppering kisses and grazing his teeth in a seductive dance that sent shivers down your spine.

Erik's movements against your aching core grew in intensity as he realised what he was brushing against, threatening to silence you completely. Yet, if he truly desired your uninhibited vulnerability, he needed to grant you the space to shed every layer.

"Erik," you tried to infuse your voice with authority, but it faltered, punctuated by your ragged sighs and helpless whimpers, "I'm laced into a corset, it needs to come off. Release me."

He moved with urgency, moving away from your form and allowing the space for you to rise, your knees pressing into the solid mattress. With a focused precision, you began to unbutton your dress, the fabric gliding over your head with a practiced ease, your focus fully enveloped in the task at hand. So engrossed were you, you failed to notice the predatory way his gaze drank in the sight of your bared skin, or the noticeable gulp that resonated from his throat as more and more of you unfolded before his eager eyes.

Your fingers trembled, struggling against the stubborn knot that held the ties of your undergarments in a vice-like grip. It was a battle you were unaccustomed to, always having the help of someone else to aid you with your corset. Your difficulty was palpable, a silent cry for assistance. Lifting your gaze to Erik, your eyes were wide, desperate pools of plea.

"Would you... could you, do the honours?" you asked through gritted teeth, your fingers clawing fruitlessly at the defiant knot, the bulge in the string a mocking testament to the maid's overly-zealous efforts.

In a silent affirmation, he nodded his head, his hand reaching out with an unspoken authority to rotate your form, granting him unimpeded access to your corset. You felt your undergarments grow increasingly wet under his firm handling, a damp patch steadily spreading across the fabric in response to your mounting anticipation. Heat suffused your cheeks, each accidental graze of his fingers against your back as he navigated the complexities of the female attire sending a shocks of tension through your body.

After an intense struggle, he conquered the knot, crafted by your maid's expert hands. But victory left him bewildered.

"Now that it's undone, what's the next step?" His gaze bore into the corset's lacings, a new challenge awaiting him.

With a chuckle rippling through the tension, you interjected, "Allow me." Swiftly, you unhooked the busk at the front, stripping the garment from your form. It cascaded to the floor, disappearing from view.

Bare and unshielded, your form was revealed from the hips upward, only your undergarments veiling what remained. There you were, a portrait of vulnerability, kneeling in anticipation yet turned away, placing a blind faith in him, trusting his unspoken intentions.

His hands seized your hips with an assertive grip, drawing you into his sphere, letting you tumble back onto the mattress as you laid facing him. Your breasts bounded with the abrupt motion, your soft contours and supple skin devoured by his relentless gaze. He studied every detail, every curve and secret of your figure, etching them into his memory.

"You might find this... somewhat audacious," you stammered, your gaze darting around the room, evading his intense stare, "But I've come across something in a book. And I have this... this urge to experience it."

Erik seemed to snap out of a daze, his brows furrowing in curiosity. "And what might that be?" he asked.

You dropped your gaze, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you attempted to muster the courage to voice your desires. "Are you familiar with... cunnilingus?"

A silence fell over the room. Erik appeared shell-shocked, his lips parting but no sound escaping as he tried to comprehend the salacious request that had just spilled from your lips. His experiences with carnal pleasures were extensive, more so after meeting you- he'd spent countless nights engrossed in books filled with varying degrees of erotica. He'd envisioned you and him as the characters, and his fantasies of caressing, embracing, and making passionate love to you had kept him awake many a night.

"Briefly, why?" He asked, his voice steady but his façade barely concealing the turmoil within.

"I want... I want you to do that to me," you managed to utter, swallowing down the embarrassment that threatened to choke you. "My betrothed, he... he wouldn't. I need to know, just once, what it feels like."

A dark shadow passed over his face at your words, the mention of the man you were intended to wed igniting something within him. His lips met your skin with a ferocity that stole your breath away. His body was pressed against yours, a desperate attempt to meld into one, to erase the space that separated you. His kisses trailed a scorching path from your neck downwards, each mark he left with his teeth due to the simmering anger that consumed him.

His hot breath teased against your core, creating a whirl of anticipation that caused your legs to twitch restlessly, your back to curl off the bed. An tingling sensation flowed from your core to the tips of your legs, prompting your thighs to instinctively tighten. He exerted his dominance, forcibly parting your legs to the sides, his chest pulsating with a primal pride as he observed the clear signs of arousal staining your underwear. The thin fabric did nothing to veil your desire for him.

His lips embarked on a deliberate exploration around your intimate area, strategically withholding the direct contact you craved, fueling a desperate need within you. He relished in your quiet pleas, in your desperation for him, for his touch. He wanted to hear it again - your voice, filled with longing, confessing your need for him, your love for him.

A few teasing kisses and feather-light licks over the fabric of your underwear were enough to reduce you to a state of complete disarray. Your head thrown back, lips parted in a silent plea, you begged, "Please, God, please."

He was relentless, persisting in his torturously slow pace and feather-light touches. He was prepared to play this drawn-out game; after all, he'd been fantasizing about moments like this since the dawn of his adolescence. He could wait an eternity if needed.

By the time he finally conceded, you were a whirlwind of emotion, eyes squeezed shut, body writhing as you grappled with an overwhelming sense of embarrassment, struggling to voice your feelings. You appeared as if you had been plucked straight out of a painting, your body seemingly sculpted by celestial forces, the ethereal glow on your skin from your sweat rendering you nothing short of angelic.

His fingers danced along the delicate straps of your underwear, tracing the curve of your hips as he meticulously slid them down your legs. Your underwear was discarded with an impatient kick. He admired how your lips glistened with your wetness, eyes wide and mouth agape as he inspected your parts. His cock felt like it was suffocating in it's tight confinement, begging to be released. He subconsciously rubbed himself against his quilt, hips driving him harder and harder into the fabric.

He didn't allow himself to spend an excessive amount of time simply staring, his fingers gingerly parting the folds of your intimate area as he gradually moved ever closer to the spot where you craved his touch the most. His tongue hesitantly emerged, like a tentative explorer venturing into uncharted territory, testing the waters as he gradually grew accustomed to your unique taste. It was an intoxicating, addictive flavour that he found himself drawn to, your evident arousal dissolving on his tongue like the sweetest candy. As he became more familiar with your body's reactions, his actions started to grow decidedly bolder, his initial cautiousness melting away.

The smooth, cold porcelain of the mask, right where his nose should have been, made direct contact with a particular spot on your body. It was a spot so sensitive, so responsive to his touch, that it turned you into a trembling, moaning mess. Each touch was like heaven, each movement a wave of pleasure that washed over you. It was a sensation you had never experienced before, and it left you weak, gasping for breath.

He pushed himself further into you, his movements becoming more desperate, more needy. His tongue, warm and insistent, ventured into every hidden corner it could find. It was as though he was trying to memorize you, to imprint the taste of you onto his very soul. He was consuming you, devouring you in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

The side of his face that wasn't hidden behind the mask was growing wetter with each passing moment. Each new wave of your arousal either swallowed by him or adding to the wet mess on his face. His eyes, dark and intense, never left your face, watching your every reaction, feeding off your pleasure.

With each passing moment, you found yourself teetering on the edge of exquisite pleasure, its intensity growing with a fervour that rendered you breathless. As cries of delight spilled from your lips, your fingers curled into the fabric of his bedsheets, clutching them with a strength that threatened to rip them to shreds. Now that you had experienced such ecstasy, you were unsure how you’d ever live without it again.

The pressure swelled within the depths of your abdomen, escalating dangerously as your eyes lost focus, surrendering willingly to Erik's touch. The burgeoning tension coiled within you like a heated serpent, until it could no longer be contained, compelling it to uncoil and release the pent-up passion that had been simmering within. Everything let go.

Erik's lips found your most sensitive spot again, sucking on it gently, coaxing a symphony of soft whimpers and quivering gasps from deep within your throat.

The intense sensations that flooded your body soon became far too much and left you with no other option but to gently, albeit reluctantly, push him away from your soaked cunt. His visible cheek and chin bore the shiny evidence of your pleasure, an erotic testament to the intimacy that had just transpired. His lips, swollen and red, were slightly parted as he laboured to catch his breath, the aftermath of your intense encounter leaving him just as breathless as you were.

He planted a single kiss on your thigh before he rose, drinking in the sinful sight of you lying beneath him. Your chest heaved, and the intimate area between your thighs was slick with a mixture of saliva and arousal, a mess he alone was responsible for. He was in disbelief at the sight before him - a woman who had pleaded for his touch, who had permitted him to venture into territory he was not meant to traverse.

You felt utterly winded, struggling to regain your breath as your mind remained in a dense fog. As you sat up, the ringing sensation of blood rushing in your ears was almost deafening. You gave him a once-over and let out a weary pout.

“Why am I naked and you are still dressed head to toe?” you playfully whined, clumsily rising up to fiddle with the buttons of his dress shirt.

A wave of panic washed over him. While a less sensitive subject than the removal of his mask, he was still hesitant about the concept of somebody seeing him disrobed. His hand swiftly intercepted yours, worried eyes looking directly into yours.

“We don’t have to do this,” you reminded him, “Removing clothes is quite necessary to engage in intercourse, so if that’s off the table, that is fine and we do not have to go any further.”

The looming threat of your sexual endeavours coming to a halt was so disconcerting that it pushed his fear of being seen nude into a corner of his mind. If you managed to bare all in front of him, then surely, he should be able to do the same. No horrifying disfigurement marred his body, save for a few scars and marks, which offered him a semblance of comfort amid his anxiety. Yet, it felt so extraordinarily odd - prior to you, people avoided him, disdaining him as a bizarre outcast to either laugh at or run away from. But you, you wanted to see him. You saw him.

With his consent, you delicately unfastened the buttons of his shirt, your fingers tracing the contours of his body as you gently slid it off along with his coat. The anticipation heightened as you unbuttoned his trousers, a sense of awe overtaking you as you noticed the visible sign of his desire pressing against the fabric of his underwear. With a slow, tantalizing motion, you slid his slacks down, pooling them around his ankles, leaving him to step out of them. The sight of him in such a state had your mouth watering, the subtle twitching under the thin fabric not going unnoticed. You glanced up, your eyes silently asking for permission before you proceeded to remove his last piece of clothing.

He was perfect - not too intimidating, yet not too modest. A balance that promised pleasure without the prospect of discomfort. A smile graced your lips as your hands were drawn to him, appreciating the prominent veins that adorned his underside and the swollen tip that seemed to crave the soothing touch of your lips. You didn’t have a second thought before you ducked down to take him into your mouth.

The moment that his length was enveloped by the soft, velvety embrace of your mouth, he felt an explosive sensation, as if he might shatter. The intoxicating blend of your warmth and the slippery wetness was an overwhelming sensory overload, causing his eyes to flutter closed as he savoured the sensation in its entirety. His low, primal groans amplified into a resonant hum of pleasure as you explored his length, your tender hand caressing the parts your lips had yet to discover.

You surfaced for air, drawing in a deep breath before giving him a seductive smile. Your hand continued to stroke him, maintaining the rhythm you'd established, "Have you heard of this one too? It's called fellatio. I've heard from men that it feels quite pleasurable, so I wanted to give it a try."

His brows knitted together in confusion and a hint of possessiveness, "Who's been talking to you about things like this?" he hissed, his fingers entangling in the roots of your hair. He didn't tug or pull, but simply let his hand rest there, grounding himself in the sensation of your touch.

“No one, I just overhear a lot,” you winked, a playful glint in your eyes.

Finding yourself drawn back to your prior task, you returned your mouth to its position, delicately licking around the sides and base of his manhood with a renewed vigour. You made a point to explore every contour, every ridge, leaving no part untouched by your careful ministrations. As you took him into your mouth once more, you hollowed your cheeks, creating a tight, welcoming space that made him gasp. You allowed your tongue to wander, tracing the map of protruding veins that decorated his length, making him shiver at your touch. You took your time, adjusting slowly but surely to accommodate his length.

Over time, you found a rhythm that was as steady as it was sensual, each movement drawing forth intoxicating sounds of pleasure from your lover. Your hand was rendered unnecessary, forgotten at your side as your face pressed closer, your nose brushing against the heat of his skin. The taste of him, the intimacy of the act, left you breathless, saliva slipping past your lips. The symphony of his escalating moans and guttural grunts echoed in your ears, signifying the mounting pleasure coursing through him.

Erik was teetering on the edge, every fibre of his being screaming for release. Time had lost all meaning; all he knew was the burning desire to break down your defences and claim you as his own. He tugged urgently at your hair, a silent plea for you to relinquish him from your mouth. His ego soared at the sight of your ravenous gaze and ragged breathing. Sweat was pooling uncomfortably beneath his mask, creating a stifling heat that was nearly unbearable. Yet, he would not — could not — remove it. For your love, he would endure any torment.

With a gentle persuasion, he coaxed you onto the plush solace of the bed, a wordless request to which you surrendered willingly. His fingers, rough yet tender in touch, traced the shape of your lips. You accepted them eagerly, lavishing them with a soft suckle until he withdrew them. Setting off on a slow, teasing journey, his fingers embarked on a path that danced across your lips, before descending the length of your neck. His touch was electrifying, a trail of shivers marking their progress.

His fingers continued their southern movement, drawn to the inviting warmth of your most intimate area. As he approached your yearning core, your breath hitched, a silent supplication mirrored in your eyes as you awaited his touch. He relished the anticipation, playfully circling the edge before carefully penetrating you with one of his fingers. The sensation of being filled by him was intoxicating, your eyes fluttering in sheer overwhelm as he moved in a rhythm that was leisurely and gentle. Every part of your being was tuned to his touch, each motion sending ripples of pleasure cascading through your body.

"Erik," you moaned, unaware of how you just moaning his name made his arms feel like jelly. He pushed through, eager to please and show you how good he could make you feel.

He cautiously inserted another finger, gradually stretching you out around his digits. He was utterly enchanted by the soft, plush feel of your walls, which seemed to welcome him in their embrace. He explored you curiously, his fingers gently probing, reaching deeper and deeper inside of you. It was like he was charting a course through a previously unexplored territory, each new discovery making him yearn for more.

The sounds that escaped your lips - cries of pleasure, of anticipation, of need - were music to his ears. The way your body responded to his touch, the way your breath hitched every time he moved, the way your fingers clung to him - everything about you made him feel weak with desire.

He didn't keep his fingers at work for very long, just enough time to make sure that you were adequately warmed up, ready for what would come next. With a simple gesture, he signalled for you to move further up the bed. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable, so he guided you to position your head against the plush softness of the pillows that lay strewn at the head of the bed.

His gaze was fixed on you, watching intently as you took the next step. Without needing any words, you communicated your agreement to what was about to unfold. You spat into your hand, a simple but intimate act, sitting up before carefully spreading the moisture over his length.

You allowed yourself to lay back down, your body welcoming the coolness of the sheets beneath you. Erik carefully positioned himself at your sopping wet entrance; his eyes, filled with a mix of anticipation and desire, locked onto yours as he began to push against you. You could feel his bulbous tip as it slowly pushed past your entrance, a sensation so new and unfamiliar that you couldn't help but squeal, your body jolting in response to the sudden intrusion. Erik's mouth hung open in a silent gasp, his breath hitching in his throat as he felt the first part of him slide inside you.

With a slow, cautious movement, he pressed forward further, sinking into you bit by bit, deeper and deeper until he was fully nestled within your warmth. Every inch of him was surrounded by you, his breath hitching once more as he adjusted to the velvety sensation.

For you, it was a fervent blaze, a primal burn that seared through every nerve. His manhood was a stark contrast to his previously tender touch, an unmerciful comparison that seemed impossible to reconcile. A soft whimper of pain broke free, a silent begging for him to pause his movements and allow your body to accommodate his invasion.

You lingered in the throes of this discomfort, each second diluting the initial shock and morphing it into a thrilling wave of bliss. It was a leisurely metamorphosis, a sultry dance between pain and pleasure, until all that was left was pure, unadulterated desire that left you gasping for air and craving more.

Once your body had succumbed to this new sensation, you gave him a silent nod of approval, a signal that he could resume. Erik let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, and his initial gentleness gave way to a carnal rhythm, each slow, deliberate thrust sending ripples of ecstasy that cascaded through your very being.

“So this is what it feels like,” you chuckled, less talking to Erik and more so thinking out loud.

Erik was so utterly focused on you and the indescribable sensations your body was offering him that he found himself unable to formulate an appropriate response. He was completely entranced by the way your intimate area, slick with your abundant arousal, enveloped him so thoroughly. He was lost in the feeling of you, engaged in an internal struggle between wanting to see the expressions of pure pleasure that danced across your face, or to look down and observe the erotic sight of his own manhood disappearing again and again into your inviting warmth.

He draped himself over you, his form a sanctuary, shielding you from the world beyond. His face nestled in the junction of your neck and shoulder, an alcove where he could inhale your scent. The cool porcelain of his mask contrasted with your heated skin, tempering the dew of perspiration that glossed your body. Underneath the mask, he endured the humid confinement - a necessary sacrifice for the exquisite torment he was bestowing upon you. Each powerful thrust sent ripples of ecstasy through you, rendering you breathless and dizzy with delight. The potent heat was all-encompassing, filling your consciousness with nothing but unadulterated, exquisite pleasure.

"I love you," you breathed out in a whisper, your voice dripping with desire. Each word was punctuated by a soft moan, the sound of it causing shivers to cascade down his spine, your hot breath against his ear igniting a fire within him.

As if his struggles weren't already overwhelming enough, your words seemed to only add more fuel to the already blazing fire within him. It was as though every syllable you uttered stoked the flames, pushing him further into a realm of passion he had never known before. His arm, strong and certain, forced its way behind your back, pulling you up to hold you close to him. It was a closeness that was almost palpable, almost too much, as he thrusted inside of you.

“I love you too,” he groaned, his words saturated with an intense, raw emotion that welled up in his eyes, the tears threatening to cascade down his face in an uncontrolled torrent of feeling.

You, on the other hand, were no better off, your own tears of sheer joy and devastating heartbreak pooling in your eyes until they were beyond their capacity to hold back any longer. They overflowed, running down your face like precious diamonds, a display of the depth of your misery. Making love to somebody who genuinely loved you back was a concept so beautifully simple, yet tragically forbidden. It was an experience that brimmed with a love so deep, a care so nurturing, and a passion and compassion so profound that it was unparalleled.

You knew you would never encounter such a feeling again in your lifetime. You were merely attempting to stave off the inevitable end, attempting to shield yourself from the stark reality that awaited your return to the surface world. Each moment was a battle against the clock, each second a desperate attempt to extend the blissful ignorance of the impending conclusion.

In that moment, you belonged to him and he to you, your bodies intertwined and connected as the flames consumed you both. You held onto him with a desperation that mirrored your own, your arms wrapping around him, hugging him close. You were a lifeline to each other, two beings lost in a sea of passion and desire, holding on to the only solid thing in a world that was spinning out of control.

With every pulsating sensation, you tried desperately to prevent the impending climax that was steadily building within you. You wrestled against it, mustering all of the strength and willpower you possessed. You didn’t want this magical night, this passion and desire, to end. The thought of the experience drawing to a close was unbearable, and yet there was nothing you could to do stop the familiar building pressure in your abdomen.

And you knew, in the deepest recesses of your mind, that you shouldn't have given in to the temptation- that you should have exercised restraint and kept your wandering hands to yourself. Despite this, you were a prisoner to your own overwhelming curiosity, a force so powerful it threatened to consume you whole.

The haze of pleasure Erik was weaving around you kept intensifying, it ebbed and flowed into every crevice of your consciousness, distorting the boundary between the tangible world and the intoxicating euphoria you found yourself spiralling into. Your hands, as though guided by an insatiable yearning that was wholly their own, found their way to the mask that resided on his head.

Your fingers, trembling with anticipation and anxiety, began to play with the thin string keeping the mask firmly in place, protecting his true form. The tension in your body was mounting, your anxiety and the impending orgasm that threatened to shatter your very being reaching the same intense peak.

The familiar ball of pleasure that had been steadily growing within you finally burst, sending shockwaves of pure ecstasy coursing through your veins. You could feel Erik's hot semen spurt inside you, marking you as his. As the intense waves of your climax washed over you, you summoned the last of your strength and ripped the mask off his face, revealing the man beneath.

You had comprehended the profound severity of Erik's disfigurement when he confessed that he had been residing here since his tender youth. Why else would somebody feel so compelled to withdraw from society? You had determined then, with unyielding resolve, to love him irrespective of his appearance. Your conviction remained unwavering as his visage came sharply into view. His eyes, dilated with raw fear, his mouth trembling on the verge of speech, and his hands, once securely encircling you, now trembled and twitched uncontrollably.

A sigh escaped you, a bright smile lighting up your face as you gazed at him dreamily. You leaned in, your hand tenderly cradling the side of his face which had remained disfigured and concealed until this moment. Tears which had been threatening to spill from his eyes now fell freely, and your own followed suit as the realization of parting hit you.

With a gentleness that belied the depth of your feelings, your fingers traced the lines of his marked skin. Your lips had found his in a passionate kiss, the tears that slid silently down your cheeks mingled with his, a silent symbol of the connection of your souls, a joining so profound that words failed to capture its essence.

With reluctance, you pulled away from the warmth of his body, rising slowly from where you were entwined with him. You wiped your tears away. A wince crossed your face as you felt Erik's softening length slip out of you, the sensation of his release dripping out of you, serving as a lingering reminder of the intimacy you had shared.

"Do you not take issue with that you see?" His voice was laced with an unnerving intensity, his eyes never leaving your form as you searched for your scattered garments. You assumed his weird behaviour was due to his feelings about your impending departure.

"Not when it's you," you confessed, a poignant smile pulling tragically at the corner of your lips, laden with unspoken emotions.

It didn't take long for you to find your garments. You fastened the corset around your waist, making sure it properly supported your bosom. Despite pulling the laces tightly, you found that you needed additional help. Each time you tried to tie the laces, the corset loosened.

"Could you lace this up for me, Erik? I'm struggling," you chuckled, turning back round to find that he had already put his underwear back on. "Corsets are tricky things. I often need someone else's help to put it on and take it off."

"You don't need it," he declared, his face a stoic mask, eyes unblinking and filled with unwavering resolve.

You hesitated, uncertain of how to respond or process his words. You thought he might not understand the full purpose of your undergarment. "I can't be amongst with people without wearing my corset. It's indecent. Without it, people could see my breasts," you said.

"And that's precisely why you don't require it," he shot back, his hardened face rigid with confrontation, eyes locked onto you as you blinked, wrestling with the weight of his words. "You aren't going anywhere."

"What? Erik, I have to leave," you leaped towards him, a wave of dread washing over you as he remained unaffected, "My father wields a lot of power and influence, a fact you're well aware of. Search parties will be dispatched and they'll hunt us down."

Erik's laughter echoed ominously around you, his jarring mirth only amplifying your unease, "He will not pose a threat, my dear. Act as though he doesn’t exist."

"How can you be so sure?" You shot back, eyes narrowing into slits as you regarded him with deep-rooted suspicion.

"Because he won't live to witness the week's end, fortunate if he survives the night," he sneered.

You were petrified, frozen in terror. The uncertain veracity of his words hung heavy in the air, but the fury etched in his gaze was unmistakable. It was a chilling declaration that bulldozed your defences, sending frigid lashes of fear snaking through your bloodstream.

“No, no,” you whispered, face twisted in dread.

"You said it yourself!" he yelled, seemingly unaffected by your flinch. You lifted your hands, ready to protect yourself if needed, but you knew that if he truly wanted to hurt you, you had no chance. "He was the one who tried to separate us, to spoil our love! How can I let him manipulate destiny? It's a sin!"

"Sin or not, he is my father!" you retorted, tearing off your corset and swiftly pulling your dress over your head. You let it fall over your figure. "I have to go."

“You forget yourself,” Erik's voice echoed ominously from the shadows, untouched by your retreat. “Was it not you pleading for me to awaken your senses to the touch of a genuine lover? Were you not weeping to me over the wreckage your father's deeds would cause in your life? Does Monsieur Beaumont need to be added to the list? Is that what you desire? I am merely aiding you!”

Trying to block out his taunting, you jammed your underwear down your bodice and clung to your corset like a lifeline. Panic was on the verge of consuming you, your thoughts spiralling out of control, too swift and chaotic to grasp. The realization of your own foolishness hit you like a punch, a bitter and unforgiving truth.

In your hour of fragility, you had sought solace in the one individual you deemed a sanctuary, a cure to your torments. But he, like a concealed predator, exploited your vulnerability, shrouding his true motives to feast upon your innocence and cast you into never ending isolation. The dread lay not in his visage, but in his very being, a monstrous revelation.

“Even if you escape, your father cannot. He has to pay for what he's done,” he hissed, his voice becoming a menacing whisper, fading into the background as you distanced yourself.

You were approaching the familiar boat, stepping carefully over the wooden structure. You untied the rope and with the paddle in hand, you prepared to set off on your journey.

CLINK, SLAM.

You froze.

“Besides the fact that you have no idea where you’d be going around the sewers and passageways and would probably end up fatally mutilated in one of my many traps,” he spoke once more, trailing off as he watched the light leave your eyes, “You don’t know how to open the gate. Unfortunate.”

What had you done?

any feedback is appreciated! sorry it ended there, i started writing this at 12pm and it's now 5:21am the day later. i have not had a break. it had to end.

[do2faj]

(excuse my messily done sketches I simply do not know how people do it so aesthetically pleasing)

(Also I got my inspiration for the sketch on down right corner from another fanart I saw on Pinterest but I unfortunately couldn't find the artist for the piece)