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her-satanic-wiles · 1 year ago

Text

October 19th

Uniform, Phantom x Cardinal Reader

Masterlist ⛧ The Cardinal Masterlist

Words: 6.3k

Warnings: Uniform; sub!Phantom; Cardinal!Reader; dom!Reader; male masturbation; brat!Phantom; power play; abuse of power; praise kink; degradation kink; cock stepping; heel kink; begging; edging; ruined orgasm; worship; hand job; unprotected sex; piv sex; dacrophilia; cunnilingus; cum eating; marking/hickeys; this basically feels like torture porn; I was in a man-eating mood and Phantom was the victim, I would apologise but I enjoyed this too much;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost

This is another favourite... I had so much fun writing this.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

You had always been a dedicated and hardworking member of the Satanic Church, from the time you arrived in your early teens to now. For years, you had toiled tirelessly, demonstrating your commitment to your job and your faith. And though some days it felt like it did, your efforts had not gone unnoticed, and upon the ascension of the previous Cardinal Copia to Papacy, you too, were lifted from your previous life and placed in a position of higher standing. They were, of course, in need of a new Cardinal now that Copia was no longer filling the position.

Your robes were majestic to say the least - designed specifically to you: your body, your youth, the image you wanted to portray when wearing the uniform. The only non-negotiables were: it had to be black or red, you must wear the Grucifix at all times, you had to wear a zucchetto, and you had to adorn the traditional Cardinal make up when in public. The cut of your robes and everything else to do with it was down to your tastes and preferences. You chose something that made you feel like you wielded the power you were given.

Your robes were split into two parts and made of a beautiful, rich, red, satin material combined with accents of white lace in three places: the bottom of the sleeves, the tip of the bodice, and the top of the neck. The dress itself was designed in a fishtail style, with thick straps at the shoulders to keep everything in place - and the bodice being boned and laced like a corset to keep you secured inside. Those straps were hidden underneath a bolero made of matching material, with added drama.

The sleeves were bell-style, with extra material to give a lap-over effect at the elbows. The sleeves’ openings were long enough to reach your knees when you had clasped your hands together at your waist and were pointed at the end. Your forearms, however, were encased in a beautiful white lace that was clasped together with the red satin making it an optional feature. Square shoulders gave you a more formal look, while the bolero’s collar added an extra layer of extravagance. It was in a turtleneck shape with white lace at the top and an ascot-like finish at the bottom, which could be clasped into the bodice of your dress as it reached that far down. When the collar was in its correct place, the red front resembled the Gothic archways of the Ministry’s architecture, while the sharp, pointed features made you look much more intimidating than you anticipated, but very much enjoyed.

The whole ensemble was bookended by a red zuchetto (Copia’s zuchetto which he gifted to you along with the Grucifix you wore upon your ascension) and a pair of Cesare Paciotti dagger heels that you asked a dear Sibling over in the tailoring wing to recreate for you given that you couldn’t afford genuine ones.

As is customary for a Cardinal, you were given two new members of your team - an assistant (a newly ordained Sibling of Sin), and a Ghoul in training. Your Ghoul wouldn’t be a permanent fixture, sadly, given that when Papa needed a new one he would graduate them from their training and take them from a Cardinal now that they were completely experienced. After putting in a special request, you’d asked for your dear friend, Phantom, to work alongside you, knowing that you’d be much happier with him by your side for as long as possible.

When he saw you for the first time, his jaw dropped. His eyes widened beneath his silver metallic, Venetian-inspired trainee mask. Because the trainee mask arched at the base, the tip of his nose and his mouth were completely exposed to you, though painted black, allowing you to see his full reaction. He had arrived at the tailor’s wing to come and escort you to your new office, and was in awe of what he was seeing.

“What do you think?” You asked him pulling at your dress a little like a teenage girl showing her date her prom dress for the first time. Your two-toned lips were curved upwards into a little smile, evidently enthralled at your new uniform and the magic the tailor Sibling had conjured with their own two hands.

“You look incredible, Sister!” Phantom said quickly, a little too loud for even his own liking.

You stood up straight and clasped your hands together at your stomach. You lifted your chin proudly and said, “I’m not sister anymore, Ghoul. I’m Cardinal now, and you shall address me as such.” Your smile was now playful and mischievous, and you were putting on more airs and graces than you usually would just because it was fun. It was fun to remind him of your new title, it was fun to hear people refer to you as Cardinal now.

Phantom gave a nod and a nervous gulp before reciprocating your smile, clearly somewhere deep inside his own head. Once he had grounded himself, he gave you a deep bow, like a commoner would to a princess, playing along with your little game. “My apologies, Cardinal. As your Ghoul, I am to escort you to your new office and chambers.”

You nodded. “Very good, Ghoul. Lead on.”

He stood and opened the door to the tailor’s shop for you to step out and lingered behind you as you walked down the corridors towards the Cardinal’s wing. Usually Phantom would walk beside you, given that you both were friends, but even as Cardinal and Ghoul, he would still be beside you as an equal. Despite the Ministry having a clear heirarchy, none were treated as lesser than. Papa and his Ghouls and assistants walked side-by-side as did everyone else. It was strange walking in silence down a long corridor with your best friend and not have him beside you.

You turned your head to look over your shoulder to see what the matter was. Phantom was, indeed, still behind you. He was now carrying a suitcase full of your extra uniforms, but instead of looking ahead of him, he was looking at you, focussing extra hard on you. You had seen enough men do that to know exactly what it was he was looking at. His eyes were laser focussed on your backside. The cut of the dress meant that all of your lumps, bumps and curves were accentuated flawlessly, certainly giving you a sexier appearance than your old Sibling habit did, and though you felt good and looked good in it, nothing compared to your new Cardinal robes. And apparently, Phantom agreed.

He’d never looked at you before like he was looking at you now. He’d never been in total awe of your overall appearance, or even been speechless in your presence. And he’d certainly never purposefully hung back to walk behind you so he could perv on you. He’d seen your body numerous times before, given that this is the Satanic church that enjoys a good orgy here and there that you both have partaken in. Hell, he’d even been inside you once or twice before. But the way he was looking at you now was different. Like he was seeing you, truly seeing you for the first time.

“How are you supposed to guide me to my new rooms when you’re behind me, Phantom?”

His eyes sharply rose from your backside to your face, and a flicker of shame darted in them. It was barely there, but you caught it. “Right, shit! Sorry!” He ran to catch up with you, and from there on out made sure he was only one step ahead.

The coming weeks were nightmarish for Phantom, truly. You were simply regal in your new uniform, and it had affected your personality too. You were never not confident, but the Cardinal robes had amplified what you already had to now you being damn near untouchable. He noticed that people would move out of the way for you when you walked down the endless Ministry hallways, with him and your Sibling assistant trailing behind you. When you walked into the room, conversations would dwindle and all eyes would be on you. People didn’t fear you quite as much as they were a little intimidated by you, but you were just simply impressive. And the confidence you exuded made you ten times more attractive than you ever had been.

You were also no stranger and no enemy to giving orders and jobs to people when they needed it. Organising events, overseeing renovations, initiating newcomers - whatever your schedule looked like you were on it and had no qualms taking charge, and doing so in your Cardinal robes? Phantom could barely cope. He would set himself on fire if you were cold and he’d thank you for it. He’d worship the ground you walked on like you were Lucifer himself if given half the chance. And the things he thought about when he was alone in his room? When darkness cloaked him and all he could think about was sinning with you, being defiled by you. He would submit to you willingly; do anything you asked him to with a “yes, Cardinal” and “right away, Cardinal”, “anything for you, Cardinal”.

With his hand around his cock, he thought about what it would be like to grip onto your hips with you straddling his lap. He thought about burying his face in your cleavage and kissing at the exposed flesh below the red, Gothic arches you wore. He envisioned you hiking up that dress so you could straddle his face and he could pleasure you, the way his makeup would be stained and smeared all over your thighs and pussy. How your juices would gather in the engravings on his mask while he held you down on his face and worshipped you as you deserved. Or even how your breasts would bounce under the bodice of your dress as he railed you, as he speared you on his cock and fucked into you relentlessly. He remembered how good your cries were the last time he fucked you - and he hated himself for not savouring the feeling of your tight heat wrapped around his aching cock. Every night after work, he would throw himself onto his bed and stroke himself to orgasm. Orgasm after orgasm until it got to the point he was surprised he had anything left to give. He wanted you so fucking badly, but he had no idea if he was even allowed to have you anymore.

Every day you would do something, or act in a certain way that made life a little more difficult for him. And the worst part about all of it was you didn’t even know - because in reality, you weren’t doing anything wrong. He was just becoming so painfully attracted to you that it was hurting him, and he didn’t know what to do.

You started noticing the little slip ups three weeks into your job. The way the small things would always go wrong, the way he’d relay the wrong messages to people, the way he’d do something and not do it correctly. But you realised something needed to be done about it when one of Papa’s Ghouls, Swiss, came to you with a very angry note from Papa letting you know that Phantom had colossally fucked up, and he’d relayed the wrong message and because of that the Ministry’s power was down for an hour while the maintenance guys tried to find the problem that didn’t actually exist. Papa couldn’t rehearse with his Ghouls which meant he was even more stressed about the upcoming tour.

You found Phantom in the kitchens nursing a tub of Häagen-Dazs strawberry ice cream and the rest of the kitchen staff moving around him frustratedly while they were trying to prepare for the dinner rush.

“Good evening, Cardinal ___.”

The rest of the Siblings echoed the greeting and you responded with a polite bow of your head. That was when Phantom looked up at you and sighed. He grabbed the tub and went to stand, making an attempt to run away, but you were too fast and stopped him from disappearing. “Please just let me wallow.” He said, his voice filled with irritation.

“No. We’re going to talk about this and we’re going to figure out a solution.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I don’t care. We have to.”

“Um, Cardinal,” your attention was drawn to a middle-aged Sibling who was looking more and more exasperated by the second, “with all due respect we need this space to be free for the staff.”

“Of course, we’re just leaving. Thank you for being patient.”

The walk back to your office was long and silent; incredibly awkward. Phantom was trudging along behind you, still very clearly troubled and in fact, now he was much more anxious. Reaching your office was no better either, because trying to get the problem out of him was like trying to squeeze blood from a stone. He sat there in silence for a while, as if you were a cop trying to get information out of him. There was a brief moment when you thought he’d ask to call his lawyer.

“Phantom,” you pleaded for what felt like the eighteenth time, “I can’t help you unless you tell me what the problem is.”

“What if I don’t want help?” He said, petulantly.

“That’s tough shit, unfortunately. You caused a big stink today. You’re going to have help whether you like it or not. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“No.”

“Phantom.” Your voice became deep and warning. It made him falter, but he didn’t budge.

“No!”

“Satan’s taint, Phantom! The way you’re acting I have half a mind to take you over my knee and spank you until you behave yourself.” His eyes widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed. That caught your attention. “Unless you want that.”

“Of course I don’t.”

You stood up and walked to the other side of your desk, leaning against it. As Phantom was sat down still, you towered over him. As you walked, your dagger heels clunked on the wooden floor below you. The atmosphere had shifted, and what had become a friend trying to help another had quickly turned into a game of power where your closest friend was on the verge of submitting to you. “I think you do.”

“You’re wrong.” Phantom was always a little shit, that was why you loved having him around. The man was the very definition of cheeky - naughty but was so cute he could get away with it, especially with you. You’d had to reign him in before, but you didn’t realise this would be how you’d have to do it for the foreseeable future.

“You’ve been harbouring some feelings towards someone, haven’t you?” Phantom didn’t want to reply at first, which told you everything you needed to know. He continued looking at the ground and avoiding eye contact, and this just wouldn’t do. You placed your index finger and thumb on his chin and moved his head, forcing him to look at you. “Haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

You hummed. “That someone is me, yes?” He nodded but of course that wasn’t good enough for your ego. “Ah, ah. Use your words.”

“Yes.”

“Good boy.”

Phantom released a sharp breath at the praise, shaky with the nerves he was feeling.

“Tell me about it.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can, my little prince. Tell me everything and I’ll give you a reward.”

He began recounting everything to you, the words spilling out of him with no end in sight. He poured his entire brain on the floor for you to rifle through at your leisure, sparing none of the more intricate or delicate parts of his torment. He detailed how he touched himself at the thought of you, how he spilled onto his stomach at the very idea that you would give him a scrap of attention, and how the whole thing had been eating away at him. All the while, you maintained eye contact with him, jerking his head back towards you every time his shame made him look away. When he finished, he breathed a sigh of relief, though he was still just as nervous as he was when he started talking.

“Such a good boy for me. Obedience deserves a reward, doesn’t it. What shall it be?” Your eyes glanced down at his growing bulge. “Do you want me to touch you?”

There was no hesitation. “Yes, Cardinal.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. Cardinal? Oh. He conveniently left out your promotion in his story. That changed things a bit. Oh yes, this could be very fun. That same hand that was holding his head in place began moving downwards, across the clothed expanse of his chest, down passed his tummy, until eventually your fingers danced over his clothed (now very hard) cock. You didn’t immediately grab him, instead opting to just run light fingers over the material and watch his eyes turn from wanting to pleading.

“Although, you have been holding out on me for weeks. And Papa is very displeased. You’re my responsibility now. You got me into a lot of trouble with Papa.” You groped his whole cock now and released a low chuckle when he gasped.

“I’m s-sorry.”

“You will be.” You cut all physical contact with him and stepped back, leaning up against your desk again. “Kneel on the floor.” You told him.

He obeyed immediately, getting on his knees and looking up at you with wide, expectant eyes. But when you moved, he became distracted by it. You lifted your dress just enough for your heels and ankles to be revealed and raised your dominant foot to rest on his thick thigh. You let the toes of your pumps slide up his jeans towards his crotch, and watched as his breathing became heavier and heavier in anticipation for what was to come. At any point, he could have stopped you. Your previous sexual exploits have already established bedroom rules which allowed you both to just plough ahead and wait for the withdrawal of consent - which never came. What did come, however, was Phantom’s gasp when the red sole of your pump arrived at his cock, and applied just a little pressure. Enough to make his hands rush up to your bare calf and grip hold of the flesh. He let out a groan.

“Papa sent one of his very angry Ghouls earlier today to tell me about your fuck up.” You began. You moved your sole up and down a little, teasing him more as his mind became increasingly more and more blank. “I have to report to him later on this afternoon and tell him what happened and what I plan on doing with you. What do you think I should tell him? Should I tell him that my Ghoul was too horny to function? Should I tell him that my Ghoul is now dry humping my stilettos in desperation like a dog?”

Phantom didn’t even realise his hips were moving until you brought it up. His eyes had been shut tight at the feel of you, and how every so often, your heel would scrape against his clothed testicles.

You continued chastising him. “I should have recorded that for Papa to see. Show him what I’m dealing with.” You started rubbing his length in a rhythmic motion, mostly putting pressure on him and releasing it again.

Phantom let go of his inhibitions for just a second and allowed himself to enjoy the feeling, eyes closed and hips rocking against you, meeting your own movements perfectly. All the while, desperate whimpers were falling from his lips, strained little grunts that filled the room exquisitely. He couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t stop the noises that stumbled out of him. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this; he knew that this was supposed to be his punishment. But it just felt so good. He couldn’t help himself.

“Are you enjoying this, my little prince?” You asked him, a condescending tone decorating your low voice, looking down at him desperately humping your heel. He truly looked pathetic.

“F-feels good.”

“Oh, does it? Is my needy little prince enjoying his punishment a little too much?”

“I’m sorry…” His voice was tight, like he was about to cry. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It feels so good. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m so needy. I’m sorry I’m enjoying this. I’m sorry!” Everything that tumbled from his lips happened in the span of one breath. His hand moved from your calf down to the top of your foot, pushing you down onto him so he could gain more pleasure from your body without permission.

“My once good boy is acting like a bit of a slut, huh?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Let me hear you say it. What are you?”

“A slut! I’m a slut. I’m such a little slut.”

“Whose slut?”

“Your slut! I’m your slut. I’m a slut for my Cardinal. I’m gonna cum.”

“No, you’re not. Not without permission.”

“Can I cum, please?”

“No.”

“Please, please, please, Cardinal, please! I need to cum. I need to cum so badly. Please, Cardinal! I’m begging you, please let me cum, please!”

By the quickness of his hips you could tell that he was close. You hung on a little more before you pulled your foot away from him. His eyes widened in terror as the orgasm he was on the precipice of having began ebbing away from him, and fading back into nothingness being replaced by his painful hardness of his cock. “No!” He screamed. The noise itself was primal and full of devastation, like he’d just watched something he love get destroyed. This wasn’t the cool, calm and collected Phantom you knew. This wasn’t the mischievous little devil you had the pleasure of being friends with for all these years. This was a desperate, wounded animal on the floor begging for mercy.

You dropped your dress back onto the floor and began to walk away from him, your hand on the door handle. “I’ll go and tell Papa you’ve been adequately punished for your actions.” You had no intention of opening the door, but you did jiggle the handle to get his reaction.

He dove forward, landing on his stomach and resting his head on the floor, fully bowing to you like a worshipper would their deity. “Please forgive me! Please don’t leave me like this. Please let me cum! Please, I’m begging you. I’ll do anything, please! I’ll be a good boy, I promise!”

“Yeah? You’ll be a good boy?”

“Yes, Cardinal!”

“You’ll start listening to your Cardinal when she gives instructions?”

“Yes, Cardinal!”

“And you’ll start behaving yourself and you’ll come to your Cardinal when you have a problem?”

“Yes, Cardinal!”

You walked back to your desk and sat on it this time. “On your feet, precious boy.” Phantom stood immediately. You dragged your dress up over your knees, revealing your thighs to him and then eventually your panties. After shuffling around a little, you pulled them off revealing your slick-soaked cunt to his hungry eyes. He wanted to dive straight in, to lap up everything he could see, and he moved forward as if he were going to. But you placed your heel on his stomach and held him at a distance. “No. I have other plans.” You removed your foot again. “Strip. I want no item of clothing left on you… except that mask.”

The mask stripped away his identity. He wasn’t even supposed to have a name, but he’d chose it for the other Ghouls to use. You planned on using him tonight, as he apparently wanted, and the mask would strip him of his humanity. Make him just a toy to play with and nothing more.

He fought with his clothes, his clouded brain struggling to perform the basic task he usually did daily. But eventually he stood there, completely naked, his cock red, swollen and painfully hard, standing fully to attention and waiting for your next touch. You beckoned him closer with your index finger and as soon as he was in reach, you spat on and then wrapped your hand around his cock and began to stroke.

You wanted to torture him a little more, dragging more pained whimpers out of him but there was something so delectable about the whimpers that came out of him when you overstimulated him. How when you stroked him and focussed on his sensitive head, he did everything he could to squirm out of your grasp, but failed every time. “Oh fuck!” He screamed, white knuckling the desk below you as your hand worked him. “Please, please, please. I’m so desperate.”

“You are?”

“Yes!”

“Oh poor baby. Just wants to cum doesn’t he?”

“Please! I’ll be good. I’ll be so good for you. Please.” Your hand tightened around the head of his cock. “Cardinal, it’s too much! It’s too much. Wait. Fuck! It’s way too sensitive. Please, please, please, please.” You watched his chest rise and fall erratically as he struggled to breathe through the stimulation. Drool had begun to form at the corner of his mouth the faster you moved. “N-not on the tip, please! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Your brain decided to do something even crueller. You let go of him one more time but this time you spread your legs wider allowing him to get closer to your core. “Really!?” He asked, his eyes wide and ready to bury himself inside.

“Of course, baby boy.”

He lined himself up and entered you, but he moaned in despair when he felt your hands on his abdomen stopping him from burying himself in further. You only allowed his tip to enter you, and that was as far as he could go. “Cardinal, no! Please! Please don’t do this! Please let me go all the way in, please!”

“It’s this or nothing, my prince. What do you want?”

Weighing up his options he began shallowly thrusting into you, his eyes roaming over your entire body and taking in your collected appearance. He was a sweaty, red mess underneath his mask and paints. But you, not a single hair was out of place. Your robes were still pristine and perfect, no sweat staining the satin. He protested and complained but even if it was just the tip inside you, he still felt incredible. He watched as his movements barely made you blink.

You moved one of your hands up to play with one of his nipples, causing him to cry out and thrust a little further in than he intended. But this one little movement made him - “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum! Can I please cum? Please, please, please, Cardinal, please! Please I’m begging you let me cum please.”

“Pull out.”

“No please! Please don’t make me.”

You reached round to the back of his head and pulled on his hair. “Pull out.”

Reluctantly he did as you asked and took the smallest step back, the head of his cock touching your clit still needing to be touched. You wrapped your hand around him again and began stroking, focussing on the tip again and earning a whine from him. “Thank you! Thank you!”

“I didn’t say you could cum yet.”

“Please can I cum? Please, please, please!” You could see his eyes were welling up with tears threatening to spill out at a moments notice.

“Aw, look at you. Whining and rutting into my hand like a pathetic little slut. Does the little slut need to cum, hm?”

“Yes!”

“Does he wanna cum so hard for his Cardinal?”

“Yes, Cardinal.”

“Cum for me.”

It didn’t take much more than that for him to thrust one more time to near completion. “Thank you! Thank you, Cardinal! This little slut’s cumming! I’m cumming for you. I’m cu- No!” Just as white began to spill out of him, you released him from your grip and held tightly onto both of his wrists, preventing him from stimulating himself as he came. The orgasm that was building to be one of the most powerful he’d had in a while was now nothing more than a tiny tingle while his cum oozed out of him and gathered on your bare cunt. Tears spilled out of his eyes finally after all the time he’d kept them contained for as long as he possibly could. You watched with evil delight as they ran down his filigree embossed mask, dripping down and around the engravings. He whimpered, both from the emotion and from the sensitivity of his dick.

His cum pooled on the desk below you as it oozed off your folds and slopped onto the wood. “You’ve got me all dirty now.” You told him. Your tone was just as condescending as it had been before, but this time exuded a hint of anger. Fake, of course, it was all just for show after all. But even so, you were having too much fun with this. “Be a good boy and clean it up.”

“Yes, Cardinal.”

You looked down your nose at him, observing as he dropped so his knees. His gentle, yet calloused hands gripped onto your knees and spread them apart to give him better access to his filth. His tongue darted out in anticipation of touching your folds and once your hands tangled in his hair and pushed him forward, he got the message, diving in immediately. His tongue gathered as much of himself off the desk as he possibly could, swallowing himself down as if it were some kind of drug before turning his attention to your waiting and dripping cunt. His black lips, though now some pink was peeking through from the amount of lip biting and sweating he’d done during this whole ordeal, suctioned against your clit and sucked, tongue coming to play as he worked to bring you to orgasm as quickly as you could.

Your back arched as he sucked particularly hard, making your hole clench around nothing desperately. His brown hair was becoming messier and messier the harder you tugged, keeping him there to stop him from ruining your own oncoming orgasm - because you knew that was something that had crossed his mind. He was a little shit after all.

“Is this making you feel better, hm?” You asked, head thrown back and voice strangled. “Knowing that you’re being useful today after everything you did?” You gripped hold of one of his hands with your free one and put it on your thigh, extending both of your legs so they rested on his shoulders. You dug your stiletto into his back just a little - enough to cause a pleasurable pain that had him grunting. “Answer me!”

His response was a simple grunt.

You watched his hips move, humping the air and begging to release more of the tension that had built in the time it took him to eat you out. His anguish was palpable enough to drive him to his animalistic preset. Humans don’t hump the air in search of pleasure, humans don’t whimper profusely into their meal, humans don’t allow themselves to be driven mad by arousal. He was still the wounded animal that was begging you earlier to make him cum. “Is the little slut hard again?”

Another grunt in confirmation.

“Well, if you do a good job and make your Cardinal cum, I’ll let you fuck me properly.”

He sucked on your cunt more fervently than before, his neediness for your approval, and by extension, your cunt urging him to work even harder to get you off. He needed your orgasm just as much as you did. The sadistic voice in your head was reeling at this, getting off on his patheticness and the little whimpers and noises he was making below you. The sound of his mouth and saliva working over your insanely wet core, not to mention the tiny moans. His fingers were grabbing onto your thigh tightly as he pressed his face deeper. You were sure he was struggling to breathe but it wouldn’t last long - you were driving head first into an earth-shattering orgasm within moments of announcing your intentions.

You kept him against you, riding his face and bucking your hips, using his tongue to finish. When your breath came back to you, you released him from your grip and sighed. “Come on then, little prince. A promise is a promise.”

He wasted no time, standing immediately and lining himself up but not pushing in. He looked at you, wide, teary eyes begging you silently to grant him permission to enter you again… this time fully. “Take your pleasure, sweetheart.”

He bottomed out right away, the pleasure overwhelming him instantly and manifesting in the sob of a broken man, now burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Th-thank you!” He grunted in between sobs and now needy thrusts as he took what he could from you, as quickly as he could, before you changed your mind and told him to stop. He didn’t know that this was it, that you’d let him cum inside you when he was ready, and this made him savour every feeling of his cock dragging against your salacious walls, every time his tip kissed your cervix roughly. “Thank you. Thank you! Thank you!”

“Does it feel good?”

“It feels so good, Cardinal. Thank you! You’re so tight. I can’t breathe. I - fuck!”

His mouth needed to do something as he let your cunt whip him into a frenzy. His lips began kissing every part of exposed flesh he could touch, the cold metal of his mask biting against your skin and adding a layer of pleasure to your sensitive spots. You felt him hone in one the exposed skin of your chest between the Gothic arches of your uniform, licking and sucking the spot there to help him expel some of that overwhelming emotion he was feeling, tears still falling from his eyes. One of his hands clutched onto your robes, holding you as tightly as he possibly could as if you were going to walk away from him and not let him cum. When he lifted his head to look at you, a string of saliva snapped from between your bodies and you saw the purple bruise he left behind… so very obvious to the rest of the Ministry what your most recent activity had been. You wanted to be mad at him, but the idea that everyone would know what you’d been up to had you tightening around his pistoning cock and pulling another groan from him.

“Cum- cumming! Oh fuck, oh fuck!”

“I got you, baby. Cum inside me. That’s it. That’s a good boy.”

He couldn’t wait for your permission. Both of his hands gripped your hips to desperately prevent you from wriggling away and he buried himself as deep as he could, hitting your cervix and completely emptying his load into you.

You continued your praise all while you hand came back to his hair and stroked him comfortingly. “So fucking good for me. Give me everything you have. There we go. Good job, baby boy.”

His toes curled, his fingers dug into your flesh, and he screamed at the sensation, that once powerful orgasm that was ruined now coming back threefold . His tears stopped for a mere moment while he fought to regain his breath, but once his orgasm subsided, he collapsed onto you, leaning against the desk and burying his head in your neck again. He wept, allowing himself to be vulnerable in this moment of overwhelm, and still clutching onto you. Sub-drop didn’t usually hit immediately, but it did with him, especially given the mood he was in before this all began.

You didn’t urge him to pull out, or move anywhere, instead you wrapped him up in your arms and let him cry as he needed to. “It’s okay, Phantom. I got you. You’re safe. I got you.”

“I’m s-sorry.”

You hushed him. “Listen to me, you have nothing to apologise for, okay? I should be the one saying sorry. I didn’t let you feel like you could come to me. I made you suffer for so long. Today included. I’m so sorry.” You reached up and undid the clasps around his head holding his mask in place, and softly removed it. He kept his face hidden for a while, not for anonymity or because it was expected of a Ghoul to completely hide their identity, but because he couldn’t bear to let you see his red, blotchy, tear-stained face - not right away at least.

When he had calmed down significantly, you felt him stand and let him, though you still kept your arms around him in a hug. You wiped the tears from his eyes, and peppered soft kisses around his face. “I’m sorry I got you in trouble with Papa.”

“You didn’t… well, you did but he’ll get over it. He was just lashing out at Swiss because he’s stressed, who then lashed out at me also because he’s stressed. In reality it had nothing to do with you.” For the first time, perhaps ever, you leaned forward and kissed his lips softly, trying to help him calm down. “Are you okay?”

He nodded.

“Promise me something: promise me you won’t keep anything bottled up anymore. Promise me that no matter how awkward it is, you’ll come and talk to me.”

He nodded again.

“No, baby, I need to hear you say it. Promise me.”

“I p-promise.” He said, tears beginning to fall again.

You held him in your arms for as long as he needed you, and spent the rest of the day comforting and loving him as much as he wanted. You made sure you cancelled any meetings to give him your attention, and kept him as top priority. This sweet, soft and sensitive boy eventually came back to life, turning into his insufferably cheeky self by the end of the day… except this time he was much clingier and hornier than before. Especially for you.

Kinktober: Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

The Cardinal:

Masterlist ⛧ The Cardinal Masterlist

Previous Part ⛧ Next Part

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ghost-in-the-hall · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day 7: Threesome (Falk x Fem! Reader x Phantom SMUT)

Okay, so, mini update I guess? I'm a few days behind on Kinktober, the whole month of October I am a lot busier than I am the rest of the year so I didn't get done what I wanted to this weekend. That being said, over the next couple days I'm going to try to put out not one, but two fics until I'm caught up. It might happen, it might not. Will I go insane? Probably, but I'm mostly there anyways. So, let's strap in guys, gals, and nonbinary pals, we got some smut ahead!

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+, MDNI, pleasure dom! Falk, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, pussy eating, rough sex, creampie, voyeurism if you squint, multiple orgasms, I think that's it if I missed any let me know!

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

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You never thought having someone else’s eyes on you could be so hot. Phantom knelt a few feet in front of you, whining as he rutted himself into his hand. You sat in Falk’s lap, his cock rapidly thrusting into you as you howled in pleasure. “Look at how needy you make him Maus.” Falk purrs in your ear. Phantom’s eyes were dark with lust, he licked his lips as he desperately waited for the okay to touch you. Falk’s large palms blanketed over your hips, holding you in place as you reached out for the Ghoul. He stumbled forward, eager for the invitation. His lips crashed into yours. Falk’s lips latched around your neck, leaving a trail of dark bruises across your skin. You took Phantom’s cock in your hand, pumping him in time with Falk’s thrust. He releases a low, guttural groan, his head dropping back in pure pleasure. He allows his hands to roam your torso, massaging your breasts as he lets his thumbs flick over your nipples. You mewl, pushing into his touch.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He breathes out.

“Isn’t she?” Falk grunts as he forces you down onto his cock with his hands. “Phantom, I think my princess needs a little more stimulation, would you like to take care of that.” You can hear the smirk in Falk’s voice, his only concern at the moment was providing you with the most intense pleasure he could manage. Phantom kisses down your body as he drops to his knees. Falk leans you against his chest, wrapping his hands around your thighs to hold them out of Phantom’s way. The Ghoul wastes no time diving in to taste you, you keen at his skilled tongue earning a chuckle from Falk. “So beautiful, meine Mäuschen. Are you enjoying yourself?” You could only nod, your mouth stuck open in a silent scream as Phantom’s tongue swirled around your clit. Phantom’s eyes met yours, he smirks slightly as he sucks the sensitive bundle of nerves roughly into your mouth. The intense sensation paired with Falk stuffing his hard cock as deep inside of you as he could manage made you cum instantly. Phantom groans in pure ecstasy at the taste of your juices on his tongue. Falk pulls out of you, giving you over fully to the eager Ghoul. He laps at your folds, causing youtube squirm with a sob. Falk grabs your face in his hand, forcing you to watch the spectacle before you. He pushes your legs back, licking a stripe the full length up your soaked pussy. You tangle your fingers in his soft, dark hair, grinding your hips against him. You curse under your breath at the feeling of his nose brushing over your clit. Falk teases your nipples with his fingers, gently rolling them between the long, nimble appendages. Your mind felt fuzzy as you tried to will yourself to focus, you felt the impending pressure of your next climax already building in your core. “Just a little more Phantom, she’s just about to finish.” He coaches, watching as you squirmed in his lap. You scream as Phantom’s tongue works its way inside you, his thumb rubbing feverishly at your clit until you quickly snap. Your whole body tensed as your second orgasm ripped through you. Phantom lapped at you greedily, your thighs twitching as you tried to pull away from him with a whine.

"Falk." You whimper his name softly. "Want you." You let your head lull against his shoulder . Falk stood, your feet hitting hard against the floor. He bent you over the arm of his chair, roughly gripping a fistful of your hair. He arches your back, his thrusts rippled across your skin as you screamed in pure pleasure. Your eyes met Phantom’s, his jaw hanging slack as he lazily stroked his cock. Falk growled, pulling your back flush against his chest, demanding your attention.

“What’s the matter princess? Do you want him to fuck you?” He snarls. You nod weakly, he beckons Phantom over with a curl of his finger. “I set the pace, got it?” He commands firmly, Phantom gives him a sharp nod in response. You whine at the emptiness of Falk pulling out of you, only to feel Phantom’s warm fingers wrap around your hips. “Take your time.” Falk makes himself comfortable in his plush office chair. Phantom swipes the tip of his cock over your entrance, coating himself in your arousal before pushing into you at an aggravatingly slow pace. His head drops as he lets out a guttural groan, his hips stuttering as he bottoms out into you. He continues slowly to pump in and out of you, soft curses falling from his lips. “Faster.” He orders, Phantom picks up his pace with a thankful sigh. You squeal at the feeling of him stretching you. “Does that feel good sweetheart?”

“F-Faster, please.” You stutter.

“You heard her Phantom.” He chuckles, filthy moans filling the room from you and him.

“Fuck, I can’t.” He sighs. He pulls out pumping himself as he lets his ejaculate spill onto your back. He pants as he strokes his head to the point of overstimulation, his hips bucking wildly into his hand as he whines. Falk bends you over the desk with a growl, shoving himself inside of you. He wraps an arm over your breasts, the other one reaching between your legs to rub your clit. You cry out at his expert touch, Falk knowing exactly how to touch you to get you to come undone beneath him. You grip tightly onto his bicep, your nails leaving deep crescent indent in his tattooed skin. The room is filled with the sound of his skin smacking against yours, your delighted screams breaking through the steady rhythm. “You’ve been so good, princess.” Your eyes roll back in your head, you bouncing off of his cock as he spills his seed inside of you. He curses, his head coming to rest against your shoulder as he struggles to slow his breathing. You squirm beneath him, the sweat on your body starting to cool causes you to shiver. Falk pulls out of you, your brain too hazy and fucked out to process much of what was happening around you. You lay motionless across the desk as you tried to find the strength to move, you jump slightly at the feeling of a warm hand coming to rest on your shoulder. You look up only to be met with Phantom's gentle gaze. Before he had the chance to speak Falk had returned a towel to get everyone cleaned up.

"Is she awake?" He asks Phantom softly, the Ghoul chuckles and nods in response.

"Barely, but yes." Falk's hand combs soothing through your hair as the pair get you cleaned up as carefully as they can. Falk wraps you up in a blanket, cradling you in his arms as he collapses back into his office chair. Phantom presses a kiss to your forehead, whispering that he would see you soon as you drifted off in your partner's arms.

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Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @mustluvecho @ramblingoak @kissingghouls @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @belnovacaine @iamsarahsaysso @sodomiser @mikathemushroom @herripinkle (I think that's everyone, if I missed you or you would like to be added let me know!)

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shalscumbunny · 5 months ago

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The male members of the Gen'ei Ryodan and their S/O's breasts

TW: Female S/O, abuse, fondling, forced intercourse, forced touching, mild torture, pregnancy, breeding kink, forced pregnancy, sexist, misogynist, breastfeeding, yandere, kidnapping and minor injuries

Author's note: I am humanly incapable of writing about Bonolenov (I feel weird), an apology to the fans (if there are any)

Phinks:

Honestly, whenever I think of Phinks, I think of someone who is rough even if he doesn't mean to be, not as rough as Uvogin, but he tends to be a bit aggressive when he has you sitting on his lap facing forward. He knows you're blushing and he doesn't care to embarrass you further, even though he has that stoic expression you know he's enjoying it, you know he's enjoying hearing you whimper and moan as his big hands knead your breasts. After all you feel his hard erection press against you. I don't really think of him as a breast man though (I'm of the inclination that he's a thigh man), so after playing with you for a while he'll just put you on all fours and fuck you hard.

Uvogin:

I have mixed feelings here, just like Phinks, I don't feel like he's a breast man (I think he's a die-hard fan of asses). But unlike Phinks who just hangs around to get bored, Uvogin doesn't mind spending a long time kneading your poor, aching breasts with his huge, calloused hands. You feel his hard penis rub against your pussy as you cry, watching through your tears as he bites, sucks and pulls at your poor breasts. Your breasts will probably be covered in bruises, small wounds and injuries the next day, making him puff out his chest with pride.

Franklin:

Unlike the previous ones, I feel that despite that rough and corpulent build, Franklin is a soft man, he likes your breasts (And yes, I feel that he likes breasts 100%), regardless of their size or shape, they simply captivate him. He usually takes you gently while licking and sucking your breasts making you moan, he sniffs your essence carefully and usually guides you in the way he likes. A pleasure where the majority usually wins.

Feitan:

I'm not going to put it up for discussion, Feitan is a man who loves breasts (And for some reason I feel like he loves small breasts the most and don't ask me why). If Feitan isn't rubbing your breasts, sucking and biting your poor nipples, sadly it's something else. I feel like one way to represent his love and dominance over his S/O is torture. Feitan doesn't see his S/O as an equal, so he doesn't care about your opinion or consent. So sadly sometimes you're tied to a chair with little electric clamps stimulating your poor sore nipples while he forces you to suck his cock. You know he's turned on, his gaze isn't very expressive, but he has that sick sadistic smile on his face, his cock vibrating in your throat.

Nobunaga:

I don't feel like he's a die-hard fan of breasts (He's a thigh man), but he likes to make you feel good and mark you as his. Just like your thighs, neck and shoulders, your breasts are also decorated with little bruises. He's a big groper, he just can't get enough of you because he loves you so much, so sometimes he doesn't mind leaning you on a counter and groping your breasts while he bites your shoulder and his cock pushes hard against your pussy for several hours without rest, until he leaves you dumb, with your pussy and uterus full of his cum, your breasts swollen and overstimulated. He's a man who's a fan of new experiences, so he's willing to suggest (coerce) you to try to masturbate him with your breasts, growling as he feels your soft mounds embrace his hard cock and then grabbing your hair to make you suck his swollen tip.

Chrollo:

Chrollo is a curious being in every aspect and that includes the human body, especially YOUR body. I feel that even though it may not seem like it sometimes, he likes mysticism, when it comes to you, he believes in soulmates, he is a true believer that you and him are pieces of a puzzle. He loves you deliberately, he is obsessed with you and everything about you, he needs you, in every aspect. Even though I personally feel that his S/O's favorite body part is her thighs, he also loves breasts. He fucks you by making you sit on his fat cock, both of you sitting anywhere, be it the living room, the bathroom or the corner of the bed. His hot, cum-filled balls squished by your slippery slit. He is thrusting at a good pace inside you, deep and somewhat slow, looking to fill you strongly. He's pleased by your expressions and moans, he grunts when your rubbery walls squeeze his cock, he growls into your breasts and moans, after giving you a dirty kiss on the mouth he lowers his head until he latches onto your nipple, he sucks and sucks it like he's hungry while his arms wrap around your waist tightly. He pounds into you in a messier way while he licks and sucks your nopples, completely obsessed with those dirty faces you make. He doesn't plan on stopping, he's got a long way to go with you, he loves latching onto your nipple and being one with you. Obviously we know that his goal is to possess you and please you, and he's probably also trying to impregnate your sweet pussy with his child.

Hisoka:

He's a big fan of ass and I'm not willing to argue about it, but that doesn't stop him from suggesting (forcing) you to use flavored body lotions. He lets out that hungry giggle as he latches onto your bubble gum flavored nipples while his fingers with sharp nails move in your tight, wet pussy, obviously those sharp nails hurt and injure your poor pussy making it bleed slightly, but you're used to it by this point, so you just moan and gasp excitedly, tears rolling down your red cheeks. I'll add as an additional note that since Hisoka is a man with such eccentric tastes, he'll probably at some point force you to wear piercings on those cute nipples of yours, maybe pink ones or heart-shaped ones, or if he's really crazy probably one of your nipples will end with an "H" and the other with an "M"

Illumi:

We've talked about this before, a relationship with Illumi without children is impossible, no matter if you're infertile, in this fictional world of HxH, he's willing to find any way for you to get pregnant with his children. Illumi is the kind of man who won't let you leave his bed until a pregnancy test comes back positive, which he so desperately wants. Apart from the fact that even though he loves you and doesn't know how to show it, in this relationship you don't have the right to have an opinion, so you have to accept and adapt. It doesn't matter if you beg him on your knees that you don't want a baby, he doesn't care, he won't listen to you either, he is a true believer that you will become fond of the baby. Due to his upbringing, he has somewhat misogynistic and sexist tendencies, so, since you are his wife, your duty is to accept the children he wants to give you and obey him (The best thing for your mental health is to do so). He's not very good at expressing that he wants it, you've rarely seen him with more than one expression, so learning to decipher it will take you a GOOD time. Only his face usually changes a couple of times and one of those times is when he's fucking you, his face looks slightly more relaxed and even if he tries, the pleasure is something difficult to hide even for a cold-blooded killer like him. Even though sex is very mechanical with him, it's not bad, he gives it to you hard, strong and moderately fast while sucking your breasts occasionally, he will NEVER admit it to anyone, but they are a part of your body that usually generates attraction and curiosity in him. But once he left you round and swollen with his child, now your breasts are a part of your body that obsesses him. He just feels his cock harden when he notices how they grow day by day, preparing to nourish his future child. Of course Illumi doesn't stop fucking you when you're pregnant, on the contrary, he fucks you more, because he simply gets excited seeing you pregnant and swollen with his baby. He spends so much time sucking on your breasts during sex that your milk production gets too early, that only makes him obsessed with your breasts even more. Now he fucks you hard, rubbing the baby inside you with the palm of his cold hand while he fills his mouth with your sweet milk, panting and grunting on your swollen nipple, at the same time, your other nipple drips small jets of milk onto the bed. When you give birth he gives you privacy with the baby when nursing, although it's funny because the baby looks like its father, hugging your breast and latching onto your nipple trying to swallow as much milk as possible. Years later and after 4 babies, it's really comforting and strange for you that Illumi doesn't change, he's not very expressive or affectionate, but he likes to be with you, he doesn't feel disgusted by the after-effects of pregnancies on your body, on the contrary, he tends to be attracted to them He rarely smiles except when you greet him after a long day of murders, with two children hidden behind your skirt, another in a sling on your back, another in your arms sucking milk from your nipple and well, another on the way developing in your swollen belly. When Illumi calls the nannies to take the children away and leave you alone, he really just wants to latch onto your generous milk-filled breasts and fuck your pregnant pussy.

Shalnark: (Everything I say about Shalnark is 100% canon and I don't allow anyone to question it). Shalnark LOVES, NEEDS and ADORES your breasts. He loves them for everything, he uses them as a pillow when he's sleepy or wants you to cuddle him, he loves to cuddle and warm up there, he has a smile on his face whenever he's there, you really think he's just missing starting to purr while rubbing his head there and hugging your waist. He's an addict and he doesn't even think about asking you for permission to touch them, for Shalnark they're his, they belong to him, he enjoys buying you only low-cut clothes to look at them all the time and have easy access to them. He doesn't even need to have his cock buried in your pussy to start sucking on your breasts, it can just be at any time, sometimes you're relaxing in bed reading a book and he'll come over, open your shirt and start sucking and licking them with his eyes closed while hugging your waist. Other times he will call you while he is working on his computer, ask you to sit on his lap and continue working while his cock is buried in your pussy and his mouth is sucking on your nipple. Obviously above all, he loves sucking your breasts while he fucks you on the bed, pushing his hips against yours while the tip of his penis hits your cervix hard. His mouth licking, biting and sucking all over your breast, leaving it with marks, bruises, bites and saliva. I mentioned before in this profile that Shalnark does not like the idea of having children, he really does not want any, but he would probably have something similar to what Illumi did with your breasts if he were to get you pregnant and agreed to allow you to continue with the pregnancy. But on the other hand, you would end up producing milk whether you were pregnant or not, since the stimulation is so great that your breasts begin to fill with milk and of course Shalnark will not allow a single drop to go to waste.

Thank you very much for reading me, if you want a version with the female members of the Gen'ei Ryodan let me know 🖤

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citrus-writing · 7 months ago

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yandere phantom troupe - make you mine

nsfw, warnings for dub-con and non-con

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Thinking about yanderes you can avoid having sex with for a considerable amount of time. the ones who, despite wanting you so badly, have the patience not to force you into anything. Why would they, when you're already so perfect?

Includes: chrollo, machi, feitan

Chrollo sees you as so cute and innocent, sweet and shy, almost. And that plays into your favor when he's so cautious in his approach. He’s so patient with you. Because to him you're made of glass, and he won't risk breaking something so precious. A part of him wants you to come to him- Maybe after so long in isolation, you could. But if you don't, he's not too bothered, because of course you can't approach him with something like this- you must be so nervous. But as time drags on, and Stockholm syndrome starts to set in, you find yourself less and less opposed to the idea, and worse still, is that he notices the change in you.

Machi is too nervous to talk to you, and she nearly punches you in a fit of nerves when you reach out to tug at her sleeve to get her attention- so it's safe to say she can't bear to touch you. When you touch her she feels electric, and it both excites and scares her. If you ever get to the point of wanting to be close with her, inviting her into your space is better than trying to invade hers. Don't hug her, ask her to hold you. Don't try to crawl into her bed, beg her to stay with you in yours. If you want her to touch you, it's best to tell her. It’s not hard to warm up the idea of being intimate with her, but she’s unlikely to notice your change of heart, too afraid to ruin everything she’s built with you.

Feitan is once again, really messed up about this. Because he wants you, almost more than any of the others, but he can't seem to get close to you. It's almost a blessing that you shake and cry whenever he comes near. The sight makes him almost happy under normal circumstances. Except now; when he's sitting on the edge of your bed, and you're curled up as far away from him as possible. Of course, he's done nothing to make you warm up to him. In fact, being kidnapped by him is worse than you imagined. He's equal parts endeared and repulsed by the sight of you, and touching you is so much worse. He won't force intimacy for a long time, mostly based on his own anxiety at being close to you.

Thinking about yanderes who try to make you give in to their advances. Yanderes who know they could take you by force, of course, but they’re far more charmed with the idea of wearing you down, making you come to them.

includes: shizuku, pakunoda, shalnark

Shizuku is almost pestering you about it- isn't she pretty? Isn't she sexy? Don't you ever wonder? You must be lonely. Wouldn't it be nice? To have someone touch you and love you and take care of you? She’ll say or do anything to try to wear you down, and sometimes you wonder if it’d be better to just let her win. But then you remember she kidnapped you, took you from everything you loved. Still, when she comes around and touches you just so, the temptation is ever present.

Pakunoda isn't nearly as obvious, in fact, you can almost convince yourself that maybe your misunderstanding, maybe she just craves the closeness of holding you. But something about the offer to come to bed with her is laced with some kind of warning- the point of no return. And she’s been the perfect captor, caring and kind and gentle- you know that this would be the same, that she’d take care of you and that she’d make it good for you- but you cant let yourself give in, no matter what she does to sway you.

Shalnark is someone who wears you down with time- sure, he could force you, but there's no fun in that. Not when it's you. He wants you to come around, wants you to break under the pressure. Every touch and kind word and every little gift has been leading you here, and you've fallen for it everytime. You've been grateful- and you can't pretend you didn't know the cost. So when he places his hands on your skin and feels you try to pull away, he frowns, because you’ve accepted everything else so willingly. Still, it’s cute to see you try to win this.

Thinking about yanderes who force you into their bed, afterall, you belong to them. There’s no sense in denying themselves when you're already here, already locked in their home, already trapped with them forever.

Includes: llumi, hisoka, uvogin

Illumi goes forever without touching you- you almost believe he doesn't want to. You lull yourself into a sense of security that someone like him is above desire. That was your mistake. And now, pinned down to his bed, you feel like a fool for not having seen it coming. He’s wanted you, and his perceived hesitance was never for your sake; always just him taking things at whatever pace he preferred. And now that he wants more from you, he won't hesitate to take it.

Hisoka doesn't wait long, to be honest. And with him, you see it coming from a mile away. As soon as he takes you away, locks you up in his home with him, you know that a part of it is this; that he desires you. You’ve known that from the start, and he’s never tried to hide it. It’s pointless to try to fight him on it, and if you give in to him, he makes a point to let you enjoy it.

Uvogin also doesn't wait long, maybe he wanted to wait- because he’d love for his feelings to be returned, and the idea of you wanting him is enticing, but he lacks the patience and in the end, it doesn't matter. In the end, he’s already got you here and it’s only a matter of time before he has you in his bed. And waiting for you to come around to his advances is such agony. No, he’s decided. It’s better to take what he wants.

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mocharyc · 12 days ago

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Invincible variants x reader Pt. 5✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

♡ The first variant gets the best pickings of her(y/n's) love ♡

✩ ‧ ₊ ˚ Fever Dreams‧ ₊ ˚

☆ WC: 10k+ [Part 5] ☆ TW: fluff + more~ ☆ Author's Note: This chapter took a long time to get down, I kept re-writing it over and over again. I really wanted the... well, I can't spoil, lol. read and find outttt ♡ ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ ♡This is a long chapter; bear with me pls♡

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Y/N drifted in and out of consciousness, fragments of conversations reaching her through the haze of medication and pain. Each voice filtered through her fevered mind with distinct clarity, bringing with it the unique cadence and emotion of its owner.

"...collar repairs are possible, but without proper calibration..." Emperor's voice, commanding even in hushed tones. His brow furrowed with impatience, the muscle in his jaw twitching beneath his chiseled face as he stared down at the broken technology with disdain. The golden accents of his imperial uniform caught the dim light of the cabin as he moved, his posture rigid with authority.

"...keep her sedated until the fever breaks..." No Mask's voice carried an unusual gentleness. His exposed features—so jarring without the familiar invincible mask—softened with concern as he checked her bandages with practiced efficiency, his fingers trembling slightly when they brushed against her burning skin. The familiar blue and yellow of his costume seemed darker in the cabin's shadows, his face marked with exhaustion.

"...touch her again and I'll tear your arms off..." Mohawk snarled, his threat punctuated by the flash of his teeth. His eyes blazed with protective fury, veins pulsing visibly at his temples as he stood with his fists clenched, knuckles white with restraint. The distinctive ridge of his mohawk cast a jagged shadow across the wall, matching the harsh lines of rage etched into his face.

"...mission parameters are clear, this distraction is illogical..." Omni's razor-sharp logic cut through the tension. His perfectly composed features betrayed him only through the slight clench of his jaw as he fought against his overwhelming desire to rush to her side, to ensure her comfort himself. The blood stained red and white of his uniform seemed to glow in the half-light, pristine despite the chaos surrounding them.

"...she’s your Y/N, she's mine..." Sinister's words dripped with possession, his face gleaming with obsession. His pupils dilated as he stared hungrily at her prone form, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as if tasting her vulnerability in the air. His black and yellow suit seemed to absorb the shadows, making him appear more creature than man.

The voices blended and separated, identifiable not just by tone but by the emotions etched into their identical-yet-different faces—Emperor's imperious sneer, the way his nostrils flared when contradicted; Mohawk's snarling defiance, the permanent crease between his brows deepening with each protective glance; Omni's calculated detachment betrayed by the trembling of his lower lip when he thought no one was watching; Viltrumite's cold authority masking deeper anguish visible in the shadows beneath his eyes; Prisoner's raw hatred punctuated by twitches of longing that softened his scarred features momentarily; Phantom's haunted gaze, perpetually searching; Sinister's predatory smile revealing his sharp canines, his eyes never blinking beneath his black lenes when fixed upon her; No Mask's rare flickers of humanity breaking through his professional demeanor like cracks in armor.

They were arguing about her, around her, over her—as if she were a prize to be claimed rather than a person with agency. The realization should have angered her, but in her weakened state, it offered opportunity. Their fracturing alliance, their competing claims—these were vulnerabilities she could exploit if only she could recover enough strength.

The medication pulled her under again, dragging her into dreamless darkness where even these thoughts faded to nothing.

When Y/N next opened her eyes, the cabin was bathed in the silvery glow of moonlight. The pain in her side had dulled to a persistent throb rather than the sharp agony of before, suggesting No Mask's medication was working. Her mind felt clearer, no longer swimming in the fog of fever and infection.

She wasn't alone. A figure sat in a chair beside her bed, silhouetted against the moonlight streaming through the broken window. For a moment, fear spiked through her—was it Prisoner, returned to make good on his threats? Sinister, with his disturbing obsession? But as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she recognized the distinctive outline of Phantom's mask face, the void-like quality of his presence.

"You're awake," he observed, his voice so quiet it might have been mistaken for the rustling of leaves outside. Beneath the see-through fabric of his mask, his eyes watched her with an intensity that felt different from the others—less possessive, more... haunted. The moonlight cast sharp shadows across his masked features, highlighting the tension in his shoulders, the careful way he held himself apart from her.

Y/N didn't respond immediately, taking stock of her condition. The bandages around her torso felt clean and dry, no longer sodden with blood and infection. Her throat, while still raw from the collar's damage, no longer burned with each breath. The worst of the fever had broken, leaving her weak but coherent. She felt her Viltrumite powers slowly returning.

"Why are you watching me?" she finally asked, her voice stronger than it had been earlier, though still rough around the edges. She pushed herself up slightly on the bed, wincing as the movement pulled at her healing wounds.

Phantom didn't answer directly, his head tilting slightly as he studied her in the moonlight. A muscle in his jaw jumped beneath the edge of his mask, betraying emotion beneath his controlled exterior. "You look like her," he said after a long pause.

"My mother."

The admission was so unexpected, so far from anything Y/N had anticipated, that she found herself momentarily speechless.

Of all the possible intimate connections these Mark variants might have formed with her, a maternal one had never crossed her mind. Her eyebrows rose in surprise, lips parting slightly as she processed his words.

"Your mother?" she echoed, unable to keep the surprise from her voice. She shifted against the pillows, trying to see his face more clearly in the moonlight.

Phantom leaned forward slightly, the moonlight casting half his masked face in silver while leaving the rest in shadow. For a moment, his eyes glimmered with something that might have been tears under his mask, the wet moisture beneath his lenses catching the light. His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath, as if steeling himself to continue.

"In my universe," he explained, each word measured as if speaking required conscious effort, "she raised me after my father died. Taught me control. Strength." His gloved fingers curled into a fist on his knee, knuckles white beneath the leather. "Than they came… I was took weak without proper training… When she was killed, there was... nothing left to contain what I became."

Y/N remained silent, sensing that any interruption might end this rare moment of vulnerability. The rawness in Phantom's voice, the slight tremor of his lips beneath his mask—these were cracks in his armor that she hadn't thought possible. She kept her gaze fixed on him, her own face softening with something like understanding.

"The others," he continued after a moment, his eyes darting to the door as if fearing interruption, "they see their lovers, their partners in you. Their Y/Ns." The word seemed to catch in his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly.

"But I see the woman who taught me what compassion meant." His mask turned toward the broken window, moonlight catching damp fabric beneath the eyes of his mask. "Before I forgot."

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken history, with the ghost of a relationship that had shaped this Mark variant into something different from the others. Not better, perhaps—his hands were as blood-stained as theirs—but different in motivation, in drive.

"Is that why you're here?" Y/N asked finally with a raise of her brow, her voice barely above a whisper. "To remember what compassion feels like?"

Phantom remained motionless for so long that Y/N wondered if he'd heard her question. When he finally spoke, his voice had returned to its usual emptiness, the momentary vulnerability buried beneath layers of control, his eyes once again shadowed and unreadable behind his mask.

"I'm here because I believe every universe should suffer what I have." The words were recited like a mantra, a truth so fundamental it had become faith. "Angstrom Levy promised us salvation. Promised me..."

"A new Y/n?" she supplied when he trailed off, unable to keep the bitterness from her tone as she rolled her eyes, a hint of defiance returning to her despite her weakened state.

Phantom's head snapped toward her, the movement too quick, too inhuman to be comfortable. The tendons in his neck stood out like cords beneath his skin, his breathing suddenly harsh behind his mask. The moonlight caught the subtle changes in his posture—a coiling of tension, a predatory stillness.

"No," he said, with unexpected vehemence.

"You can't be replaced. She can't be… None of you can." His voice dropped, becoming almost introspective. "That's what they don't understand. What I'm beginning to fe–..."

He stopped abruptly, rising from the chair with fluid grace. His black and blue uniform absorbed the moonlight, creating a void in the shape of a man, as he moved.

"You should rest," he stated, retreating behind the mask of cool detachment, though his eyes remained fixed on her face with an intensity that belied his tone. "Tomorrow will be... difficult."

Before Y/N could question him further, the cabin door opened, admitting Viltrumite's imposing figure. The moonlight caught the white of his uniform, lending him an almost ethereal quality as he stood framed in the doorway, power and authority radiating from his perfect posture. His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, his dark hair swept back immaculately despite the chaos of their mission.

His eyes, cold and calculating, flicked between Phantom and Y/N, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His nostrils flared slightly, as if he could smell the vulnerability that had permeated the room moments before.

The white of his uniform seemed to glow in the moonlight, emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders, the strength contained in his frame.

"Your watch is over," he stated, not a question but a command. His gaze lingered on Y/N's face, something unreadable flickering in their depths. "Return to bringing destruction to this planet."

Phantom inclined his head in silent acknowledgment, moving toward the door. He paused beside Viltrumite, the two Mark variants presenting a study in contrasts—one all light and imperial presence, the other shadow and restrained power. The tension between them was palpable, crackling in the air like electricity.

"She's stronger," Phantom observed quietly, the words meant only for Viltrumite's ears but carrying in the cabin's stillness. "The fever's breaking, clear signs of her Viltumite status returning."

Viltrumite's features remained impassive, but something flickered in his eyes—relief, perhaps, or satisfaction. The corner of his mouth twitched upward momentarily, a fleeting crack in his regal facade.

"Good, now go," he replied, dismissal evident in his tone. "Join Sinister in the eastern quadrant. The planet still needs to be destroyed."

Phantom disappeared into the night without another word, leaving Y/N alone with Viltrumite. The absence of his presence left the cabin feeling suddenly larger, emptier; a sadness bellowed in her eyes.

The older Mark variant moved into the cabin with measured steps, each movement precise and controlled. In the moonlight, he seemed carved from marble—flawless, ageless, his features set in lines of authority that brooked no defiance. His eyes, though identical to all the Mark's in color, held centuries of experience and the weight of an empire.

"Your condition is improving," he observed, coming to stand beside her bed. Closer she could see his brown eyes clearer, they were cooler than the others' yet somehow more penetrating, cataloging her appearance with clinical assessment. The slightest twitch of his lips betrayed satisfaction at her recovery. "No Mask's intervention was... fortuitous."

Y/N attempted to push herself higher on the pillows, determined to face him from a position less vulnerable than flat on her back. The movement sent a dull throb of pain through her side, but it was manageable—a vast improvement from the searing agony of before. A bead of sweat formed at her temple from the effort, rolling down her cheek.

"Lucky for you," she replied, unable to keep the edge from her voice. "Can't extract much value from a corpse, can you?"

Something shifted in Viltrumite's expression—not quite surprise, but a reassessment.

His nostrils flared slightly, and the harsh lines of his imperial bearing softened fractionally, revealing a glimpse of the man beneath the mantle, his brown eyes studying her with newfound interest, pupils dilating almost imperceptibly. A muscle in his cheek twitched, betraying emotions he kept carefully controlled.

"You misunderstand," he said, his voice losing some of its commanding resonance. "Your survival is... significant beyond our new mission parameters."

Y/N laughed, the sound bitter and sharp in the moonlit cabin. "Right. Because I look like her—your Y/N." The words were a challenge, thrown like rocks at his feet.

Her eyes flashed with defiance, color rising to her cheeks as she held his gaze. "Is that it? I'm a convenient replacement for whatever woman you lost?"

Viltrumite's reaction was unmistakable—a tightening around his eyes, a momentary tension in his jaw that made a muscle jump beneath his skin. For an instant, his perfect composure cracked, revealing raw grief beneath the imperial façade. His fingers trembled slightly before he clenched them into fists at his sides, the veins in his forearms standing out against his skin.

"She was not just..." he began, then stopped, the words seeming to catch in his throat. His eyes appeared suddenly brighter, more vulnerable in the moonlight streaming through the window.

Y/N watched, fascinated, as emotions warred across his face—grief, anger, longing, all quickly suppressed beneath the mask of control. His eyes darkened, his breath coming slightly faster as he fought for composure. The white of his uniform seemed suddenly too bright, too pristine in the darkness of the cabin.

"She was going to be the Empress of Earth," he finally continued, his voice steadier. "My partner in bringing order to chaos. She just lacked the Viltrumite blood." His expression softened minutely, something like nostalgia crossing his features. "But she understood the necessity of strength, of..."

He trailed off, his brown eyes distant, seeing not the cabin but some memory of glory long past. Then, with a visible effort, he refocused on Y/N, his gaze sharpening like a blade being honed. The moment of vulnerability vanished, replaced by the cold calculation she had come to associate with him.

"You are not her," he said, each word precise and deliberate. "But you could be... more."

Y/N felt a chill that had nothing to do with her fever. The hunger in Viltrumite's eyes was different from Sinister's predatory obsession or Mohawk's possessive rage. It was the hunger of a man who had tasted power and found it addictive, who saw in her not just a lost love but a potential ally in conquest.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she met his gaze.

"I'm not interested in being anyone's empress," she said flatly, a puff of her cheeks as she met his gaze without flinching. "Or replacement. Or puppet."

Viltrumite's lips curved in a smile that didn't reach his eyes, the expression as cold as winter frost. "You speak as if you have a choice," he observed, his tone almost gentle as he leaned down closer to her. "As if any of us did."

Before Y/N could respond, something unexpected happened. Viltrumite moved closer, his expression shifting from imperial distance to something more human, more vulnerable. In one fluid motion, he reached out and touched her face, his fingers cool against her fever-warm skin.

As his fingers slid along the side of her soft cheek, a shiver ran through his entire body, barely perceptible but unmistakable.

"You have her spirit," he murmured, his voice so low she could barely hear it. "Her defiance. It's... why I—"

He leaned in closer, his warm breath washing over her face. The scent of him—clean, masculine, with an undercurrent of blood. His eyes, dark and intense, searched her face as if memorizing every detail. The hardness in his expression melted away, replaced by something almost tender, almost reverent.

For a brief moment, Y/N saw not the conquering Viltrumite but a man grieving, a man who had lost something precious and thought he'd found it again. His eyes softened, the harsh lines around his mouth relaxing into something almost tender. The nearness of her, the warmth of her skin against his fingers, seemed to draw him out of himself, out of the imperial persona he wore like armor. His eyes almost fluttered shut, her warm breath fanning over his lips.

He looked into her eyes, noting the flush spreading across her cheeks, her lips parting softly. But he just stared into her eyes, and he remembered why he fell in love with her in his universe. The pale flecks of color in her iris caught the moonlight, bringing him back to another time, another place—where those same eyes had looked at him with adoration rather than defiance.

Then reality crashed back upon him like a wave. His eyes widened with shock, horror flashing across his perfect features as he realized what he was doing.

A flush crept up his neck, staining his cheeks pink, a color that looked alien on his usually controlled face. His jaw clenched tight enough that a muscle twitched violently along his temple.

His hand jerked back as if burned, and he stepped away from the bed, his composure reasserting itself like armor sliding back into place. He was panting softly.

The moment of vulnerability vanished so completely that Y/N might have thought she'd imagined it, if not for the lingering sensation of his touch on her cheek and the haunted look that briefly crossed his features. His shoulders squared, spine straightening as he physically rebuilt his imperial bearing.

"Rest," he ordered, eyes not meeting hers, his tone once again cold and commanding. "Your strength will be required soon."

Biting his lip softly, he turned and strode to the door, his back rigid with tension, shoulders squared as if preparing for battle. The moonlight made the white of his uniform glow almost ethereally, emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist—perfect Viltrumite physiology enhanced by years of conquest. ~ Body Teaaa 💅~

"I must ensure the destruction continues as planned," he said without looking back, his voice carefully modulated to betray no emotion. "Another will watch over you."

The door closed behind him as he took off, leaving Y/N alone in the moonlit cabin. The sudden absence of his overwhelming presence left the air feeling lighter, easier to breathe.

Her face flushed as she released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her mind racing with the implications of what had just occurred. The cracks in Viltrumite's façade, the momentary tenderness—these were weapons she could use, if she was clever enough. Her fingertips unconsciously traced the path where his hand had touched her cheek, her brow furrowing in thought, Damn that was hot…

She had barely begun to formulate a plan when a sound from outside caught her attention—a distinctive electrical hum that raised the hairs on her arms. It was a sound she knew all too well, one that haunted her nightmares and left her throat constricting with sudden fear.

The sound of a GDA teleportation device.

It happened in seconds, the air around the cabin heating up, molecules vibrating with increasing energy.

Y/N watched as the atmosphere wavered, becoming distorted like heat rising from hot pavement. The familiar blue glow of the teleportation field began to form in the center of the room, and she knew the process was about to begin—someone was coming, GDA. Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat sending fresh pain through her injured side.

Y/N struggled to sit up, ignoring the pain that flared in her side. Panic gave her strength she didn't know she possessed, and she managed to swing her legs over the side of the bed just as the air in the center of the cabin shimmered and distorted. Fresh blood began to seep through her bandages, a dark stain spreading across the white fabric as her sudden movement reopened her wounds.

A figure materialized, tall and imposing in the distinctive uniform of the GDA. The moonlight illuminated his face, revealing hard eyes and a mouth set in a grim line. Cecil Stedman, director of the Global Defense Agency, the man who had authorized the experiments that had made her what she was. His thin face looked ghostly in the blue teleportation glow, the light catching on the eye bags around his eyes.

"Finally you're alone," he said, his voice cold with satisfaction. His eyes narrowed as they took in her weakened state, the bandages visible beneath her torn suit, dark stains of blood seeping through the white fabric. "Did you really think we wouldn't find you? We were just waiting for the moment you alone without those stupid variants glued to you."

Y/N's heart hammered in her chest, fight-or-flight instincts screaming even as her body refused to cooperate. She opened her mouth to respond, but Cecil was already moving, the old man's gaze sweeping the cabin until it landed on something on the kitchen counter. His thin lips pressed into a line of concentration, his movements efficient despite his age.

The broken collar. The pieces had been laid out carefully, presumably by Omni as he assessed whether it could be repaired. The moonlight glinted off the metal components, making them look like fragments of ice rather than the instrument of control they truly were.

"How convenient," Cecil murmured, moving to collect the fragments. A satisfied smile stretched across his thin lips, deepening the wrinkles around his mouth. "Can't have alien technology falling into the wrong hands, can we? Especially not these hands."

Y/N tried to stand, her legs trembling with the effort. Sweat beaded on her forehead as pain shot through her side, causing her to wince visibly. Her jaw clenched tight, teeth grinding against the agony that threatened to overwhelm her. The wooden floor seemed to tilt beneath her feet, the room spinning slightly at the edges of her vision.

"You don't understand," she managed, her voice stronger than she expected. Her eyes flashed with defiance despite the pallor of her skin. "They're not just—"

"Variants of Invincible?" Cecil cut her off, his thin lips curling in a humorless smile. His eyes, cold and calculating, narrowed as he studied her.

"Oh, we understand exactly what they are. The fuckers ripping apart our planet, killing billions!" His voice rose slightly, a vein pulsing at his temple, his carefully maintained composure cracking to reveal genuine fury beneath. "What we don't understand is why our most valuable asset decided to join forces with them."

"I didn't—" Y/N's face contorted with frustration, her eyes widening with the urgency to make him understand. A lock of hair fell across her face as she leaned forward, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the bed. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, metallic and warm on her tongue as she hisses, why am I so weak?!

"Save it," he snapped, pocketing the collar fragments in his suit. The harsh lines around his mouth deepened as he frowned, making him look even older. "You had one mission, and you failed. You're coming back with me now. The experiments aren't finished, and you're far too valuable to leave in the hands of these... aberrations. Even if our planet if falling apart."

Y/N's fingers curled around the edge of the mattress, searching for stability. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with shallow breaths, each one sending a ripple of pain through her injured side.

"I can't go back," she said, trying to keep the desperation from her voice. Her eyes darted to the door, then back to Cecil, pupils dilating with fear. "I can't live like that again—controlled, unable to feel, to think outside the parameters they set." Her voice broke slightly at the memory, cracking on the final word.

"The collar nearly killed me. Another round of experiments will—"

"That's not your decision to make," Cecil interrupted, his voice flat as he pulled out a small device, pressing several buttons. The blue light from the small screen cast eerie shadows across his face, highlighting the cold determination in his eyes. Due to the destruction, normal teleportation has been reduced to remote control.

"This will only take a moment. Try not to struggle—in your condition, it will only make things worse."

Y/N's mind raced, searching for options. The Mark variants were gone, scattered across the planet on their mission of destruction. She was alone, wounded, barely able to stand. But return to the GDA, to the experiments that made her a Viltumite, to the collar that had nearly killed her?

That was a fate worse than death. Her eyes darted around the cabin, seeking anything that might serve as a weapon or distraction.

With a desperate surge of strength, she lunged for the door, trying to fly but it didn't work, she was still to weak. Her face contorted with pain and frustration as her legs gave out after just two steps. She crashed to the floor, the impact sending fresh waves of agony through her side. Blood soaked through her bandages, warm and sticky against her skin. She was no Viltrumite if she couldn't take this simple pain.

But the strangled cry escaped her lips as she pressed her hand against the wound, crimson seeping between her fingers, vivid and alarming against her pale skin. The floor beneath her began to stain with dark droplets, her blood pooling on the worn wooden planks.

Cecil sighed, the sound heavy with disappointment. His shoulders slumped slightly before he straightened again, "Always the hard way with you, isn't it?" He moved toward her, device in hand. "Don't worry. Soon enough, you won't remember any of this. A new collar will see to that."

Y/N's vision began to blur, darkness creeping in at the edges. A single tear slid down her cheek as she looked up at Cecil, her expression a mixture of defiance and despair. Blood continued to seep through her fingers, each heartbeat pushing more of her life force out onto the cabin floor. Her lips trembled with the effort of staying conscious.

The last thing she saw was Cecil standing over her, the teleportation device counting down to activation to teleport two beings. His thin face set in lines of grim determination, the blue light from the device casting ghostly shadows across his features.

Then, a crash as the cabin door burst open, the sound of splintering wood echoing in the small space.

"Get away from her." The voice was cold, utterly devoid of emotion—and yet, somehow, vibrating with barely contained rage.

Omni stood in the doorway, his red and white uniform splattered with dust and blood. His eyes, usually so calculated and distant, burned with an intensity that made him look almost feral. His hands, normally so steady and controlled, trembled slightly at his sides. The moonlight cast half his face in shadow, highlighting the rigid set of his jaw and the dangerous flash of his teeth.

Cecil froze, his face draining of color as he took in the sight of the Invincible variant. His eyes darted between Omni and Y/N, rapid calculations visible in his expression. The teleportation device beeped insistently in his hand, the countdown continuing, its blue light pulsing with increasing urgency.

"Look- You don't understand what you're interfering with," Cecil said, his voice steady despite the fear evident in his widened eyes. "Even if you're destroying our planet she… She belongs to the GDA. She's government property...Take everything else but her-"

Omni's nostrils flared, "She belongs to no one," he stated, each word precisely enunciated. He took a step forward, the floorboards creaking under his weight. "Especially not to someone who would collar her like an animal."

Y/N, still conscious but barely, watched the exchange through half-lidded eyes. Her breath came in shallow gasps, each one sending fresh spikes of pain through her body. The blood pooling beneath her felt warm, too warm—a stark contrast to the cold that seemed to be creeping through her limbs. Her vision tunneled, focusing on Omni's imposing figure, the red of his uniform seeming to blur and shift in the dim light.

Cecil's face hardened, his mouth a thin line of determination even though he could die at any moment. "I can't leave without her," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

"She's too valuable. The work we've done—" He broke off, glancing down at Y/N's prone form, his expression a mixture of scientific detachment and genuine concern. The lines around his eyes deepened, betraying a conflict behind his harsh exterior.

Omni moved with inhuman speed, crossing the room in a blur of motion. Before Cecil could react, Omni's hand closed around his throat, lifting the older man off his feet. The teleportation device clattered to the floor, its countdown still ticking, the blue light casting strange shadows across the cabin walls.

"Your work," Omni said, his voice still eerily calm despite the fury blazing in his eyes, "nearly killed her. The collar you designed—" He stopped, something flickering across his face—a memory, perhaps, of his own Y/N. His grip tightened momentarily before he seemed to regain control, his fingers adjusting with mathematical precision to maintain pressure without crushing Cecil's windpipe. "You will not take her. Not now. Not ever."

Cecil's face reddened as he struggled for breath, his hands clawing ineffectually at Omni's iron grip. "You... don't... understand," he gasped, his voice a raspy whisper. "Without... the collar... she's... unstable."

Y/N's eyes widened at this, a fresh surge of adrenaline clearing some of the fog from her mind. "Liar," she managed, her voice weak but clear. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth as she pushed herself up on one elbow, her face contorted with the effort. Her skin had taken on an alarming pale, making the blood on her lips stand out like crimson against snow.

"The collar... was killing me. You knew... and you kept... pushing."

Omni's eyes flicked to Y/N, something softening in his gaze as he took in her bloodied form. The harsh detachment slipped for a moment, revealing raw concern beneath. His perfect posture faltered, a momentary slouch betraying his distress before he straightened again with a huff.

Then his attention returned to Cecil, his expression hardening once more, eyes cold and calculating beneath the black lenes of his mask covering his eyes.

"I should kill you, slow… and painfuly, just like i’ve killed so many others" he stated, his tone suggesting he was merely making an observation. "It would be... logical. Efficient." His thumb pressed against Cecil's carotid artery with precise pressure, a demonstration of how easily he could end the older man's life with a flick of his thumb.

Cecil's eyes bulged, his face now purple from lack of oxygen. His feet kicked uselessly in the air, his hands still trying to break Omni's grip. The veins in his temples stood out prominently, throbbing with each desperate heartbeat.

Y/N watched, her vision swimming. Part of her—the part that remembered the pain, the experiments, the collar that had nearly killed her—wanted Omni to do it. To end Cecil's life and with it, the threat of returning to that existence. But another part, the part that still clung to some sense of who she had been before all this, couldn't bear to watch. Her eyes, though clouded with pain, retained a spark of humanity that she feared losing.

"Don't," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She coughed, the action sending fresh pain through her side, blood spraying from her lips in a fine mist. "Not... worth it."

Omni's head tilted slightly, considering her words. His grip on Cecil's throat loosened fractionally, allowing the older man to draw in a ragged breath. "He hurt you," Omni said, his voice so quiet only Y/N could hear it. For a moment, the mask of detachment slipped completely, revealing a depth of emotion that shocked her. His eyes, usually so cold, burned with a protective fury that bordered on madness. A muscle in his jaw worked silently, betraying the battle between logic and emotion raging within him.

"I know," Y/N acknowledged, her eyes meeting his beneath his mask.

She tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace, blood staining her teeth. "But I'm... not like him. Not yet." Her eyes pleaded with him, even as her strength began to fade. "Don't... become what he... thinks you are. You can be kind, I know you can."

Omni stood perfectly still for a long moment, his face a battlefield of conflicting emotions. Then, with a movement so sudden it was almost invisible, he hurled Cecil across the room. The older man crashed into the wall with a sickening crack, then slumped to the floor, unconscious but alive. A thin trickle of blood running from his receding hairline down his temple.

The teleportation device continued its countdown, the beeping more insistent now, the blue light pulsing faster.

Omni moved to Y/N's side, kneeling beside her with a grace that belied his power. His large hands, capable of such destruction, were gentle as they carefully lifted her. His face, usually so controlled, showed open concern as he took in the extent of her injuries. The front of her bandages was now completely soaked through with blood, the white fabric stained a deep crimson.

"You're bleeding heavily," he whispered, his voice soft once more, though his eyes betrayed his worry. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he saw the blood soaking through her bandages. "The fall reopened your wound...Y/n."

Y/N tried to respond, but the words wouldn't come. The room was spinning now, darkness encroaching on the edges of her vision. She felt Omni's arms around her, solid and warm, as he lifted her from the floor. His heartbeat, steady and strong against her cheek, was oddly comforting. He partially melted into her touch, cradling her with a tenderness that belied his fearsome reputation. He would keep her safe—this certainty radiated from him, wrapping around her like a protective shield.

"Stay with me," Omni commanded, his voice taking on a note of urgency that broke through his usual detachment. His eyes searched her face with an intensity that made her breath catch. The black lenses of his mask couldn't hide the desperation in his gaze as he leaned closer, the harsh lines of his jaw tightening with concern. "Y/N, focus on my voice. Stay conscious."

Y/N tried to obey, but the darkness was too inviting, the pain too overwhelming. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, fluttering closed despite her best efforts. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, painting a crimson trail down her ashen cheek. The warmth of it contrasted sharply with the coldness creeping through her limbs.

The last thing she heard before unconsciousness claimed her was the urgent beeping of the teleportation device and Omni's voice, suddenly clear and filled with raw emotion, "I won't lose you. Not again." His large gloved hand cupped her cheek with surprising tenderness, thumb carefully wiping blood from her parted lips. The gesture was so gentle, so unlike the calculated precision with which he typically moved, that had she been conscious, it would have stunned her.

As darkness engulfed her senses, Y/N's mind spiraled into fever dreams. She felt herself being lifted, placed back on the old bed, the springs creaking beneath their combined weight. Through the haze of unconsciousness, she imagined Omni's voice, broken and desperate, "Stay with me Y/N... feel me... God, I—"

She felt his large hands guiding her legs around his hips as he leaned over her, his powerful frame encompassing her own. The heat from his body seeped through her clothes, warming her chilled skin. His presence was overwhelming, consuming her senses entirely.

"Stop me... Y/n, tell me to stop..." The words were a plea, not a command. His voice, usually so controlled, now ragged with need. A strangled groan escaped him as his head came to rest on her chest, between the valley of her breasts, his rough hair brushing against her suit. The friction sent unexpected sparks of pleasure coursing through her body.

He nuzzled closer, allowing her to feel the unmistakable hardness pressing between her legs. His hips rolled against hers with exquisite restraint, the motion so gentle yet devastating in its effect. Her body responded with an intensity that shocked her, a sensation she had never experienced before.

Y/N awoke with a startled gasp, her eyes flying open, heart hammering against her ribcage. Sunlight was barely peeking through the broken window, bathing the cabin in the golden light of sunrise. The dream's vividness left her disoriented, unsure of what was real and what wasn't.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, a flush spreading down her neck to her collarbone. Her mouth was dry, yet she felt an unfamiliar wetness between her legs, a persistent throb that confused her. As an experiment, these sensations were entirely new territory—her body responding in ways she didn't understand. She panted heavily, trying to calm her racing heart as she pushed the vivid images from her mind, focusing instead on the dull ache in her side.

When Y/N fully regained consciousness, the cabin was illuminated by the soft glow of dawn. Her side throbbed with a persistent ache, but the searing pain had subsided. She was back in the bed, fresh bandages wrapped tightly around her torso. The coppery taste of blood lingered in her mouth, but she felt stronger than before.

She wasn't alone. Omni sat in a chair beside the bed, his posture perfect even in repose. His uniform was still stained with dust and blood, suggesting he hadn't left her side since the confrontation with Cecil. He leaned over the bed, his arm on the edge, hands curled around each other as he pressed his forehead to his palms. His eyes were closed beneath his mask, but she could tell from the tension in his jaw that he wasn't sleeping. The muscles around his mouth twitched occasionally, betraying that his mind was far from restful. He had remained vigilant all night, watching over her with an intensity that spoke of something beyond mere duty.

"You stayed," she said, her voice raspy but stronger than it had been the night before.

Omni's eyes snapped open beneath the lenses, instantly alert. He straightened in the chair, shoulders squaring as if caught in a moment of weakness. He leaned forward slightly, the chair creaking beneath the shift in weight. His gaze swept over her with clinical precision, cataloging every detail of her condition. Something flickered across his face—relief, unmistakable and profound—before his features settled back into their usual controlled mask. The momentary softening around his eyes disappeared so quickly she might have imagined it.

His nose twitched slightly, nostrils flaring as he caught a scent. His eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch behind his mask, his head dipping to glance at her midsection then back to her face, a fleeting expression of surprise crossing his face before he schooled his features once more.

"It was the logical course of action," he stated, his voice neutral, though a slight tremor betrayed him. "Your condition was... unstable."

Y/N's lips curved into a small smile, her eyes softening as she looked at him. A stray lock of hair fell across her forehead, and she made no move to brush it away. "You can show me emotions," she hummed softly, the sound barely audible in the quiet cabin. "It's just you and me."

Something in her chest tightened as she realized she was beginning to feel drawn to this red and gray suited Invincible variant. Among all of them, he had been consistently the most protective, the most considerate of her wellbeing. Even now, the way his fingers twitched at his sides, as if restraining himself from reaching for her, spoke of a care that went beyond his calculated exterior.

Y/N tried to sit up, wincing as the movement pulled at her injured side. Fresh beads of sweat formed at her hairline from the effort, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she suppressed a groan. Omni's hand shot out, steadying her with surprising gentleness. His touch lingered a moment longer than necessary, his fingers warm against her skin.

He brushed his fingertips over her face, almost reverently, as if memorizing every feature. The pad of his thumb traced the curve of her cheekbone, his breathing noticeably changing—becoming deeper, more measured, as if he was fighting for control. When he finally pulled away, it seemed to require conscious effort, his hand retreating reluctantly.

"Cecil?" she asked, her eyes searching his face for any sign of what had happened after she lost consciousness. Her brow furrowed with concern, a vertical crease forming between her eyebrows.

Omni's expression darkened, a muscle ticking in his jaw. The perfect line of his mouth tightened, eyes hardening behind his mask. "Gone," he said simply. "The teleportation device activated before I could disable it. He escaped with the collar fragments."

Y/N exhaled slowly, relief and dread mingling in her chest. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, pushing it away from her face. Her fingers trembled slightly with the lingering weakness from blood loss. "He'll be back," she said, her voice steady despite the fear churning in her stomach. Her pupils dilated slightly, the only visible sign of her anxiety.

"Yes," Omni agreed, his tone matter-of-fact. "That is the most probable outcome."

Y/N studied him, noting the tension in his shoulders, the almost imperceptible tremor in his hands. Despite his clinical demeanor, something about him seemed... different. Fractured, somehow. The perfect control he maintained seemed to be costing him more effort than usual.

"Why did you help me?" she asked, her eyes searching his face. "Why not let him take me? It would have been... logical." She used his own word deliberately, watching for his reaction, her head tilting slightly to one side.

Omni's eyes met hers, and for a moment, his mask slipped completely. The raw emotion in his gaze—grief, longing, determination—took her breath away. His perfect composure cracked, revealing the man beneath the calculated exterior. With deliberate movements, he reached up and removed the mask covering his eyes. The black lenses that had hidden his expression were gone, allowing Y/N to see the full intensity of his gaze.

His eyes were a startling blue, unlike the others; deep and clear as mountain lakes after a storm. They were red-rimmed from exhaustion, the skin beneath them slightly darkened, but they burned with an emotion that made her heart skip a beat. Long lashes framed those expressive eyes, a stark contrast to the hardness of his other features; his angular jawline, the straight nose, the firm set of his lips all softened by the naked emotion in his gaze.

"Because I watched you die once," he said, his voice low and intense, vibrating with suppressed emotion. His jaw worked silently for a moment before he continued, a muscle jumping beneath the skin as he stared at his hands. "I will not do so again."

The control that had been his hallmark was visibly slipping. His breathing quickened, chest rising and falling more rapidly as emotions he'd kept buried threatened to surface. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, the leather of his gloves creaking with the tension.

Y/N's eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise. The color drained from her face as understanding dawned.

"Your Y/N," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I only know from what Sinister said… But I want to hear from you, what happened to her?"

Omni's gaze dropped to his hands, which had curled into fists on his knees. The knuckles whitened with pressure, veins standing out prominently. When he looked up again, his expression was carefully controlled once more, though his eyes still burned with that same intensity.

"She had cancer," he said finally, each word seeming to cost him. "A human weakness I couldn't fight. I tried everything—" his voice caught, Adam's apple bobbing visibly as he swallowed. "Every treatment, every experimental procedure. I exhausted every resource at my disposal, but it wasn't enough."

His breathing quickened slightly, nostrils flaring with the effort of maintaining control. "My father... Omni-Man... he saw her as a distraction. A weakness. Because I spent more time with her than training. Learning." His eyes darkened with remembered rage, pupils contracting to pinpoints. "So he killed her."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. "Then I killed him," he finished quietly, his voice devoid of emotion once more. "And then... I became something else."

Y/N reached out, her hand covering his fist. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, and she felt him tense at the contact before slowly relaxing. The hard lines of his knuckles softened beneath her touch.

"I'm sorry," she said simply, her voice soft with genuine sympathy. Her eyes, though tired, were clear and compassionate as they met his. The skin around them crinkled slightly with the sincerity of her expression.

Omni looked at her hand on his, an expression of confusion and wonder crossing his face. His eyebrows drew together slightly, creating a small crease between them. "You are... different from her," he observed, his voice quiet. "More... resilient. Adaptable." His gaze returned to her face, studying her with newfound curiosity. The intensity in his eyes softened to something almost like admiration. "She was gentler. Less... combative."

Y/N smiled slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at her split lip. A small bead of blood welled up where the skin had cracked. She absently ran her tongue over the injury, tasting copper. "I'm not her," she said gently but firmly, her eyes never leaving his that were drawn to her lips. "Just as you're not my Mark... cause I don't have one."

Omni blinked, nodded slowly, accepting the truth of her words. "I am aware," he said, his voice regaining some of its clinical detachment, though his eyes remained unguarded. "Yet the similarities are... significant." The corner of his mouth twitched, almost forming a smile. "I- I want…Perhaps I could be... a new Mark in your life? Only yours."

Despite his dominant demeanor and controlled exterior, there was something vulnerable in the way he leaned toward her now, something almost submissive in his posture. As if beneath the calculating facade, he was desperate for her approval, her acceptance. His eyes, now unshielded by his mask, couldn't hide the truth—if she asked kindly, he would do anything she requested. He couldn't help but lean in closer, drawn to her by a need that transcended logic or reason.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the shift in his demeanor. This powerful being—capable of such destruction, so clinical and detached—was looking at her with a vulnerability that made her heart ache. The juxtaposition was striking, his imposing physique and the gentle way he now regarded her, like a fierce predator suddenly revealing its softer nature. She had no future with GDA anymore, these variants were about to become her only world.

"I'd like that," she whispered, her voice barely audible even in the quiet cabin. Her eyes dropped to his lips for a fraction of a second before returning to meet his gaze, a flush spreading across her cheeks.

Something in Omni's expression changed—the last threads of his restraint visibly snapping. In one fluid motion, he moved from the chair to the edge of the bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip. His hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb tracing the outline of her bottom lip with exquisite gentleness.

"May I?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion, eyes searching hers for permission.

Y/N nodded, her lips parting slightly in anticipation. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a sensation both terrifying and exhilarating.

Omni's lips met hers with surprising tenderness. The contrast was striking—his lips soft and warm against her chapped ones. He kissed her as if she might shatter, his large frame hovering over her smaller one, careful not to put weight on her injured body. The scent of him filled her senses—clean sweat, leather from his uniform, and something distinctly male that made her head swim.

The kiss deepened slowly, his mouth moving against hers with careful precision. His tongue gently traced the seam of her lips, requesting entry rather than demanding it. When she parted them, he explored her mouth with the same methodical attention he brought to everything—learning what made her breath hitch, what drew small sounds from her throat.

His hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair, supporting her as their connection intensified. He tasted her split lip carefully, the metallic tang of blood mixing with the sweetness of their kiss. Y/N felt his chest rumble with a suppressed groan as she tentatively met his tongue with her own, her inexperience evident but her eagerness making up for it.

The controlled precision that defined his every movement was still present, but now channeled into something else entirely—each touch calculated to bring her pleasure without pain. His massive frame dwarfed hers as he moved closer, the bed creaking beneath their combined weight.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Omni immediately rested his forehead against hers. His usually stern face was transformed by a softness Y/N had never seen before. His lips were reddened and slightly swollen from their kiss, his piercing blue eyes half-lidded with a mixture of desire and wonder. A faint flush colored his high cheekbones, spreading down to disappear beneath the collar of his uniform.

"I never thought I'd feel this again," he whispered, his warm breath fanning across her face. "After she died, I locked everything away. Became... cold. Analytical." The corner of his mouth lifted in a small, self-deprecating smile that transformed his usually severe features. "Efficient."

Y/N's own face was flushed, her pupils dilated, lips parted and tingling from his attention. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath, the sensation of his kiss still lingering like an imprint on her skin.

"I noticed something earlier," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "Your scent changed." His pupils dilated as he spoke, nearly eclipsing the blue of his irises. A slight crease appeared between his brows, his expression a mixture of scientific curiosity and unmistakable desire. "It was... intriguing."

Y/N's brow furrowed in confusion, her lips still tingling from his kiss. Her cheeks burned hotter, the flush spreading down her neck to the tops of her breasts visible above her torn clothing. "My scent?"

A small, genuine smile curved his lips—perhaps the first real smile she'd seen from him. It transformed his face completely, softening the hard angles and revealing a glimpse of who he might have been in another life, one with less pain and loss. The skin around his eyes crinkled, small lines appearing that spoke of smiles long forgotten.

"You were dreaming," he explained, his voice taking on a note of tender amusement. His thumb traced small circles against the nape of her neck, the sensation sending pleasant shivers down her spine. "Your body responded... physically."

Understanding dawned, and Y/N's face flamed with embarrassment. She tried to look away, but Omni gently cupped her cheek, guiding her face back to his. His palm was warm against her skin, his touch reverent.

"Don't be ashamed," he said softly, his expression earnest and open. His eyes, so startlingly blue, held no judgment—only fascination and something deeper, more primal. The hard line of his jaw had softened, his perpetual frown replaced by parted lips and gentle eyes. "It's natural. Beautiful, even." His eyes darkened with something like sadness, the corners turning down slightly. "They never let you experience this, did they? The GDA. They kept you from feeling... everything."

Y/N shook her head, her throat tight with emotion. "The collar suppressed everything," she whispered. "Emotions, sensations... they said it was necessary to control the Viltrumite abilities. To keep me stable."

Anger flashed in Omni's eyes, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His nostrils flared, lips pressing into a thin line as his face hardened momentarily. "They lied," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "They feared what you might become if you were allowed to feel. To be whole."

His expression softened as he looked at her, the hard lines of anger melting away. The severe set of his mouth relaxed, his eyes warming from icy rage to tender concern. With careful movements, mindful of her injuries, he shifted to sit beside her on the bed, his back against the headboard. The mattress dipped under his considerable weight, the old springs protesting.

Gently, he slid one arm beneath her shoulders, the other under her knees, and lifted her as if she weighed nothing. He settled her against his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin, his powerful arms creating a protective circle around her smaller frame. The warmth of his body seeped into hers, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath her ear.

"Let me show you," he murmured against her hair, his lips brushing the top of her head. "Let me show you what it means to feel. Not just... physically." His voice dropped lower, the words rumbling in his chest beneath her ear. "Though I would very much like to explore that aspect as well, when you're healed."

Y/N relaxed against him, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear comforting. His fingers traced patterns on her arm, each touch sending small sparks of pleasure along her skin. The sensation was new, overwhelming in its intensity—without the collar, every nerve ending seemed hypersensitive.

"I'd like that," she whispered, turning her face up to his. Her eyes were bright despite her exhaustion, her lips curved in a small, shy smile. The pallor of her skin had given way to a healthier flush, color returning to her cheeks.

Omni's smile was gentle as he bent to press his lips to her forehead. His eyes closed briefly, thick lashes fanning against his cheeks as he savored the contact. It had been so long since he'd allowed himself to touch anyone with tenderness, to feel anything beyond cold calculation and rage. The muscles in his face, usually so rigid with control, relaxed into an expression of profound relief.

"First, you must heal," he said, clinical pragmatism returning to his voice, though his eyes remained soft. "Your body needs time to recover."

But even as he spoke, his lips moved from her forehead to her temple, then down to the sensitive spot just below her ear. Y/N's breath hitched as he placed feather-light kisses along the column of her throat, each one sending a new wave of sensation through her body. His hot breath ghosted over her skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. The contrast between his clinical words and his tender actions drew a small, breathless laugh from her.

"Although," he murmured against her skin, his lips vibrating against her pulse point, "there are ways I can help you explore these new sensations without compromising your recovery."

His hand moved to cup her face, tilting it up so he could claim her lips once more. His large palm engulfed the side of her face, fingers threading into her hair as he pulled her closer. Their lips met with more urgency this time, his control slipping as he responded to her eager reciprocation. The kiss was deeper than before, more assured—his tongue sliding against hers in a dance that left her dizzy and wanting. His teeth gently captured her bottom lip, tugging slightly before releasing it to soothe the sting with his tongue.

Y/N's inexperienced movements were awkward at first, but she quickly learned to follow his lead, mimicking his actions. Her hands came up to grip his shoulders, fingers digging into the taut muscle beneath his uniform. A small whimper escaped her throat as he angled her head to deepen the kiss further, his expertise evident in every calculated movement.

When they broke apart again, both flushed and breathing heavily, Omni's eyes had darkened to stormy blue. His carefully controlled exterior had cracked completely, revealing the raw need beneath. His hand trembled slightly as he brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear with surprising tenderness.

"Your Y/N," she began, her voice rough with emotion. "She never experienced this? With you?"

Omni's expression turned somber, a shadow passing over his features. The light in his eyes dimmed, his mouth turning down at the corners as painful memories resurfaced. His jaw clenched, a muscle jumping beneath the skin.

"No," he admitted quietly. "She wanted to wait. And I respected her wishes." His jaw tightened, grief and anger momentarily darkening his gaze. The veins in his temple became more prominent as his face hardened with suppressed rage. "Then my father killed her, and I lost my chance to show her how much I treasured her."

His eyes met Y/N's, fierce with a new determination. The blue of his irises seemed to glow with intensity, his gaze burning into hers. "I won't make that mistake again," he vowed. "If you'll allow it, I'll show you everything they denied you. Every sensation, every emotion. I'll help you discover what it means to truly live. Soon… I swear my dove."

The intensity of his gaze made Y/N's heart race. She reached up, her fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. "I'm not her," she reminded him gently. "I can't replace what you lost."

"I know," he said, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. His lips lingered on her skin, warm and soft. "You're not a replacement. You're something new. Something... unexpected." His eyes softened as they studied her face, taking in every detail—the curve of her cheek, the shape of her lips, the flecks of color in her eyes. "Something precious. I want to move on, to start something new with you."

With careful movements, mindful of her injuries, Omni gently placed her back on the bed, moving to hover over her. His massive frame blocked out the light from the window as he positioned himself above her, his knees on either side of her hips, his weight supported on his forearms on either side of her head to avoid putting pressure on her wounded body. The bed creaked beneath them, protesting the shift in weight.

He began to explore her body with gentle touches. His lips traced a path from her mouth to her jaw, then down the sensitive skin of her neck. Each kiss was reverent, worshipful, as if he was mapping terrain he had dreamed of but never expected to discover. His stubble scraped lightly against her soft skin, the slight roughness a delicious contrast to the softness of his lips.

Y/N gasped as his lips found a particularly sensitive spot at the junction of her neck and shoulder. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, fingers digging into the material of his uniform. The sensations were overwhelming, unlike anything she had experienced before—without the collar suppressing her responses, her body reacted with an intensity that left her breathless.

"Beautiful," Omni murmured against her skin, his voice vibrating against her pulse point. His large body completely encompassed her smaller one, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the room from her view. The size difference between them was stark—his hand alone could almost span her entire waist, his thigh thicker than both of hers combined. Yet there was no fear in her response to him, only wonder at the gentleness such strength could display.

"So responsive. So alive." His hand moved to rest at her waist, careful to avoid her bandaged wound. The heat of his palm seeped through the thin material of her clothing, branding her skin. "Tell me if anything hurts, if you want me to stop."

Y/N could only nod, words beyond her as his exploration continued. His hand skimmed up her side, tracing the curve of her waist, the outline of her ribs. His thumb brushed the underside of her breast, a touch so light it might have been accidental if not for the intent focus in his eyes as he gauged her reaction. Her breath caught, back arching slightly into his touch without conscious thought.

Omni watched her reactions with fascination, adjusting his approach based on the smallest change in her breathing or the subtle tensing of her muscles. His eyes, normally so cold and analytical, now burned with heat as he cataloged every gasp, every flutter of her eyelids, every unconscious movement of her body seeking more contact.

"They stole this from you," he whispered, his voice tight with anger as he looked up at her flushed face. A vein pulsed in his temple, his jaw clenching momentarily before he visibly forced himself to relax. "They denied you the most basic human experiences. The right to feel pleasure, to connect with another person… But it saved you for me, my dove."

Y/N caught his face between her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her eyes were bright with determination, her cheeks flushed with color that had nothing to do with her injuries. "Then help me reclaim it," she said, her voice stronger than it had been since her injury. Her eyes burned with determination, a new spark of life that had been missing before. "Help me discover what they took from me."

Something like awe crossed Omni's face as he looked at her. His eyes widened slightly, lips parting in surprise at her boldness. "You truly are remarkable," he said softly. "So different from her, yet just as captivating. Perhaps more so–No you are more."

He leaned in to kiss her again, this time with a passion that left no doubt of his intentions. His hand slid up her side, carefully avoiding her injury, coming to rest just below her breast. He paused there, breaking the kiss to look into her eyes. His red mask lay discarded at the edge of the bed—every emotion visible in his expressive eyes, the tense line of his jaw, the slight tremble of his lips.

Omni was on his hands and knees above her now, Y/N's body cradled between his powerful limbs. His broad shoulders blocked out the light from the window, casting his face in shadow except for the startling blue of his eyes. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, creating a cocoon that held just the two of them, separate from the world outside.

"May I?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. His hand hovering just below her breast, waiting for permission to continue. He wouldnt touch her out permission.

Y/N nodded, her lips parted in anticipation, eyes never leaving his. She reached up to touch his face, fingers tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone, the stubble along his jaw. His skin was hot beneath her fingertips, flushed with desire. She couldn’t believe this was real.

Omni's hand moved higher, palm cupping her breast through the thin fabric of her top. His touch was gentle but assured, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak in a way that drew a gasp from her lips. His eyes darkened at the sound, pupils dilating until only a thin ring of blue remained.

His other hand slid along her thigh, fingers tracing patterns on the fabric covering her leg. The heat of his palm seeped through the material, warming her skin. His touch was purposeful yet hesitant, as if fighting against his own desires to ensure he didn't hurt her.

Just as his hand began to move higher up her thigh, the cabin door burst open with a splintering crack. Wood fragments scattered across the floor as the door nearly ripped from its hinges. The silhouette of the form panting, hissing with anger.

“YOU MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD OMNI–!”

––––––––––

☆ Hehe~ Cliffhanger (∩˃o˂∩)

☆ If you couldn't tell, I might have a favorite variant... hehe well, I have 3, but it's so hard to incorporate all of them equally. Omni seemed the wisest choice to be y/n's first kiss (ㅅ´ ˘ `) my boi was desperate for his Pookie

☆ Sad to say, I won't be posting for a while, I need a break after this grind, lol !!Pt.6!!

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4

✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

350 notes · View notes

hhighkey · 10 months ago

Text

An Ode to... // Feitan, one shot - part of hhighkey’s phantom troupe universe series

Rating: mature Story Contains: Stockholm syndrome, implied past kidnapping and stalking, emotional and physical violence, isolation, torture, feitan dense when it comes to feelings, jealousy, possessive behavior, rough sex, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, female reader, etc Note: wc just over 9k, updated for grammar, ao3 link: xxx

Feitan followed you for a year before kidnapping you. You'd caught his eye by surprise one day- technically Phinks pointed you out to him- but your fate was decided then and there. So he'd yearn for you during nights he struggled to sleep, which turned into a battle within him raging of emotions unlike any he'd felt day in and out. It was like his chest and heart swelled so much around you or at the thought of you- he was so full with a warm giddiness that he thought he'd burst. For some days he wondered if killing you would make his life easier, until he realized one night that the thought of you dying hurt even more than any injury.

For eight months you'd been his.

And time didn't seem to matter anymore as you spent it in a small attic turned bedroom with a small bathroom. A tiny round window, with metal bars, was your only door to the outside world. You'd watched the seasons change from summer to fall, and now to winter. A dusting of white snow had fallen on the ground and furthermore a cold draft had you shaking under a mountain of thin blankets.

The first month you never left the attic, Feitan wouldn't let you. You didn't see him either, just opening the door to place food inside then immediately locking it again. Screaming and crying until your voice was hoarse and you had no more tears to cry. Days on end curled into a ball as you stared devoid at a plank wall. The ceilings were low, meeting at a point in the center, thankful you were short to be able to move around easier. For a while you refused to be broken, trying to do small things to keep up fitness, but slowly the lack of signs of rescue froze everything. Like your mind and body shut down so matter how you yearned for your prior life. Slipping into your own world you began in your head, an alternate reality with your loved ones that did its best to comfort you.

But each day you awoke in that same room in the same bed. Chilling how Feitan took your own pillows and blankets, to provide you some comfort or familiarity. Your favorite outfits in the drawers across the room, the cloth baby doll you slept with every night- it made you realize just how long your captor had been watching.

Month two you realized things in the room were moved ever so lightly in the morning. At first you chalked it up to your poor mental state, that you had simply forgotten. Until you woke up one night, around 2AM to a pair of dark eyes watching you. Feitan. He was the one who pulled the chair to your bedside. He was the reason you woke up feeling vulnerable and gross. After you caught him, he didn't bother to hide anymore.

He started watching you do the most mundane tasks, primarily eating, worried you'd choke. Started asking you the food you preferred and when you scarfed it as fast as possible, he grasped your jaw and helped you chew. That was the first time he'd touched you and your eyes lit up in shock from the chills that went down your spine. He didn't come around much after that, as you started getting too bold. You'd yell and scream at him, try throwing whatever you got your hands on. He left you isolated for weeks.

Maybe it was your pathetic nature of wanting to please everyone, not being able to stand up for yourself that really drew Feitan in. Because never once did you try to escape— Especially not when the way Feitan walked around the house had your eyes glued to him with stars dizzying within them.

By month four he let out downstairs, let you sit in the kitchen as he cooked. Let you watch a movie as long as you sit on the couch with your hips just touching his. And you did it, because watching the reruns of that boring soap opera was the best thing to happen to you in far too long. It kept you from attempting to escape- asides from the fact there was no way out of the dingy attic, especially when Feitan left for weeks on end.

The basement was cold.

Your feet felt like they'd freeze off the first time he brought you down there. You realized, rather quickly, that you never wanted to be there again.

And it was in that basement that you understood who Feitan truly was, what he did for work and why he constantly disappeared. And why you needn't disobey.

Even when he opened the door to the basement for the first time and motioned, you followed. Because five months in you'd listen due to fear.

But your disobedience shown in the way your body froze when you reached the bottom of the stairs- whimpers escaping your lips as you tried to go back up. Feitan had just stood there, pushing you further.

"Sit," He said, pointing to an armchair set up towards the workstation, "want you see me work."

"W-work?" You swallowed hard. With hindsight you shouldn't have been surprised that someone as cold as Feitan, your kidnapper, was a murderer. A torturer who relished in pain, as not one did your depressed state bother him.

A man- beaten bloody was strapped to a table cranked forward so his head hung. He was in a loose shirt and shorts, ankles and wrists chained to the steel surface.

"No.." The tears began to fall thickly, "please let me go upstairs-"

"No." Feitan watched you, "Sit. Waiting too long. Want you to watch. Been five months."

So you had been with him for five months, a part of you felt it'd been years already. "I can't," You whimpered, "please," your stomach was churning, bile rising in your throat as an intense heat dizzied your body.

Feitan grabbed your wrist as if you were a doll, dragging you over and into the chair, "Stay." it was a threat. You could only nod as snot began to run down your nose and sweat beaded at your brow. Breathing became hard, the air dense and the smell of blood was sickening.

The man's screams.

Your ears ring trying to drown the screeches out.

You couldn't stop your blubbering no matter how many glares Feitan sent your way. Your shoulders shaking and stomach in knots as you were continuously forced to swallow your own vomit to not make a mess, or ensue Feitan's wrath. Because you'd dealt with his cold shoulder or an occasional sprained limb from how strong he was. Used to his harsh words and threats, and invading eyes watching your every move when not locked in the attic. But you didn't want to be on that table, no matter what.

The man was inconsolable as Feitan grabbed a pair of pliers, snapping them over and over as he crept closer. A heavy whirl of silence, of anticipation- the calm before the storm really before Feitan used the pliers to grasp the captive's fingernail. One after another. Scream after scream. Blood. A sickening ripping noise before tossing them to a palette.

Oh the man was a mess. Voice hoarse with tears and saliva dripping down the side of his face as he begged for an end. Begged to die compared to the start for a reprise.

"Please- just kill me "

Feitan's head cocked, eyes darkening, "talk."

"No."

Feitan doesn't like hearing no, you know that. You've felt his silent anger when you'd cry and shriek- because you weren't doing what he wanted. And in that basement watching a man's blood splatter about, you realized you were all out of his good graces he was willing to give. Like his self awareness that you needed time to adjust finally reached its end. Because a wild thump came down with the force of a thousand suns, and three fingers toppled to the ground with crimson red spurting like a wild rose.

"Who moved merchandise?" Feitan hissed as he grasped another gruesome looking tool with his thin fingers.

"Go to hell,"

Rage. A sharp crack sounded as a molar went flying with a clatter across the room. It enraged him, all the defiance this captive had, for your first showcase of his work. So maybe he was embarrassed as he seethed from his pores, muscles tensed as an iron poker bent from his sheer will. He could hear your cries. Pathetic.

As he turned to you- you were cowering in the chair, with your head in your hands. Rocking back and forth as you blubbered about.

You weren't watching.

The man wasn't cracking and Feitan's patience expired. With limbs now missing and blood soaking the floor surrounding them, he knew the man had been serious about dying rather than spilling information.

So his focus was on you.

With horror your head snapped up as a nasty crunching noise forced vomit up your dried throat, the man's neck snapping in half, head falling limp with a bouncy recoil.

"Oh," you whimpered, you shrunk back as humanly possible. Coated in red, with anger, Feitan stalked his way to you.

You stumbled from the chair, your flight kicking in for the first time since he'd brought you here. Crawling and kicking until your back hit the wall and the tears stream heavier than before, like you were smack dab in a horror movie. His grim eyes preying on you like you were nothing but a snack, a glimmering blade at his side that has you quaking. Terror as he stood over you.

"Not watching." He hissed.

"I'm sorry! N-ext time!" You cried, holding your hands up in a meek defense, "I'll be better,"

Feitan was high on adrenaline. Enraged by the lack of pleasure his torture session brought. Frustrated by your reaction. How scared you were of him when all he was trying to do was include you in his work, something he loved. Something he wanted you to watch with pride.

You shriek as he grabs hold of your legs, yanking you toward him. Preying on you like a monster as he crouched down to put weight on you, knife in hand. Such a sadistic look in his eyes as he ripped your shirt up enough to show him your rib cage. Legs flailing. Arms weakly hitting at him. But he didn't move. Feitan brought the tip of the knife down to your skin and you went limp with shock. No noise left your mouth after a few seconds until a throaty, airy cry sounded out with spasming of your eyes following. Blood trickled down your stomach as Feitan carved letter after letter against your pained jerks. Begging. Sobbing. You were a mess underneath him as your vision began to falter as terror and agony washed over you making you numb.

"Next time, tie you on chair to watch." Feitan said with a smirk, possessively tracing the bloody gash that spelled out his name on your delicate skin. All you could do was cry and wheeze in and out of consciousness.

And as you finally went limp, a heavy breath shuddered from Feitan's lips as the reality set in. He grimaced. It was pure adrenaline and anger that he acted on, and the aftermath was a sickening regret bubbling in his chest. Hurting you wasn't something he wanted to do again.. unless absolutely necessary.

The following months you grew familiar with the schedule of when Feitan brought his victims and wanted you to watch.

Perhaps you were too sensitive. Too much of an empath as each incision he made into a captive, you felt the carving of his name burn on your skin. Like a searing branding of understanding their pain, to an extent, that they went through. An understanding of being a victim like them, but you were luckier in a sick sense because you had Feitan's mercy of love. If you could call it that no matter how many times he insisted he took you for protection because you were his.

Life with Feitan could be like living with a bomb, never knowing when or why it set off. Somedays you didn't look at him enough, others you stared too long and when his cheeks turned pink and he grew vicious. Learning his habits or moods was hard, but slowly you became accustomed.

Feitan liked to touch your waist, specifically shoving his hands under your shirt to feel your skin. His fingers would grip and prod even if you flinched from a sudden pinch. His greatest show of care was patting your head. He started doing so after you convinced him to let you take over meals, reminding him you always cooked for yourself prior. In another life basically. Then out of the blue Feitan took your things from the attic and into his room. You'd panicked looking for your missing plushies you needed to sleep, your missing pillow and favorite blanket. The dresser and closet were empty. Your toiletries were gone. Oh. Your heart sank, Feitan had enough of you. You were going to die.

So you went back downstairs, ready for him to take you down to the basement and tie you up. You let your mind wander to what methods or tools he'd use. Maybe he'd be kind and make it quick.

Feitan quirked a brow up as he saw your dejected form pad into the living room. You sat with a glazed, far away look on your face and immediately he panics.

"Y/N?" To hear your name from his lips, made yours tremble.

"I'm sorry."

He was upon you within seconds, grasping at your arms to pull up your sleeves, "What's wrong? Hurt?"

"Are you going to kill me?"

A look of disgust flashed over his features, "No, never. You're mine."

"But my room?"

"Oh." Feitan's eyes immediately flit anywhere other than you, dropping your arms to rest on the couch. He was embarrassed and you're trying to figure out what's going on. "Moved into my room, figured you liked me more, things have been... nice."

Did you? Like him? Not particularly, right? Sure you liked the sound of his voice or when his eyes softened when you walked into the room. You thought the faces he made were cute asides from the maliciously crazy ones when he tortured somebody. And you were beginning to like feeling his touches, unsure advances that showed he was human in there somewhere. Because he wanted your approval, that much was apparent after all these months. Wanted you to watch him with pride and reassure he was touching you correctly, caring for you correctly. And perhaps you were flattered realizing how enthralled he was, how much he knew about you down to the most minor details. While you only knew he was a killer. So maybe you did like him in a twisted way, your brain fogging past details of cruelty and pushing up warm emotions instead. For your own good you needed to forget he forced you to watch others die, that he cut your own skin, that he might have killed your family. You bargained with yourself that perhaps him locking you in the attic was for your own good, that you needed to see Feitan in a better light and you only needed some time. Right?

"Oh!" Your relief is evident. And he looked happy to see that. "Oh my." You place your hand over your heart, breathing in and out.

Feitan slowly rested a hand on top of your head, "Should have told you sooner... sorry."

"S'okay, misunderstanding. I'm good."

Feitan nodded simply because he could feel your pulse begin to slow from its prior heightened pace, "Come."

You followed behind him like a lost puppy needing its owner to find its way. Your heart felt at the bottom of your stomach, nervous to what Feitan had in mind moving you to his bedroom. The realization hit that you'd be in bed with him as you entered. His room was bare, which didn't surprise you. The only hint of life were your colorful blankets and plushies set up on the large bed. Two dressers, loveseat, and two doors you assumed were a bathroom and closet. Secretly you felt relief as it didn't smell of blood and there wasn't any sign of death.

Feitan watched you as you took your time to look around the room. He said nothing as you opened drawers to find your things, while some had his. The closet had more of your clothes. The ensuite was clean as well. He liked seeing you nod an approval of the space you'd share with him, filled him with pride.

You sat on the bed.

You felt along your blankets and then his own he originally had. You rearranged your stuffed doll. Fluffed your pillow. Not having changed out of the clothes you slept in last night, you decided not to change because you weren't sure what Feitan was expecting of you. Embarrassment licked the edges of your neck as you felt your palms begin to sweat.

Terror coursed through your veins, your heart about to beat through your chest as you laid beside him. A few inches of space between the two of you. But it was suffocating as he joined you under the blanket.

"Relax. Won't hurt you."

You gripped the sheets tighter, "Okay."

"Don't believe me."

"I'm sorry." You immediately countered, tensing.

Feitan sighed, trying to remember advice Chrollo gave him: to be more understanding and soft, "Sorry for cutting you few months ago, wanted you to see what I enjoy and you seemed not to care. But I enjoy you more so, only come to basement if you want now. Free reign over inside when I'm gone, just no hurting yourself. No going outside unless I'm with you."

Huh? "I- can go out?"

"With me."

"Can we go out tomorrow? Will it rain? Can I run around on the grass?" You were like a child in a candy store, excitement dripping through your tone that has Feitan's lips turning up in the dark.

"If it rains tomorrow, go another time. Okay?"

"Yes. Perfect!" You were absolutely giddy, to the point personal space did not matter. You flung yourself across the bed to hug Feitan. Feeling his cold body you go still, filled you with horror realizing what you just did. "I'm sorry- I.."

Yet he wrapped an arm around you, ghosting along your skin like he was scared to scare you. He waited to see if you'd flinch away but you didn't.

"Don't apologize, like this." He hugged you taut.

There was nowhere to go but on him, really. You rested your head on his shoulder, forced to sprawl a leg across his own while your other wrenched beneath you. It felt like you may explode, a litany of conflicting emotions pulling you every which way. Hesitantly you placed your left hand across his chest, waiting for him to decide to hurt you or that this was taking it too far. But that never came. Feitan may have laid there like a statue, though after a few minutes he started squirming, attempting to relax with you in his arms while you listened to his wild heart beat.

You swallowed hard deciding to speak up, "I can move-"

"No." His words sounded laced with venom, but you could tell the slight difference. Feitan was nervous. Just like you were.

Your lips parted but no words came out. The fact you were both enduring the same confusing emotions, unsure how to physically figure the other out, made you feel so close to him. He was on your level, just as scared.

"Fei..tan?" You whispered his name, realization blossomed inside you and it was as if the last eight, maybe nine months were finally making sense!

"Yes?" It sounded, at least to you, like he was choking up.

"I- think I realize something. I think we're both awkward people and you didn't know how to go about any of this. Please hear me out." Boldly you pushed yourself out of his grip, pushing up on his chest so you could prop on your knees under the blanket. Feitan followed suit by sitting up to lean against the bed, quickly pulling the bedside lamp's string. He stared at you expectantly. So you continued with his full attention and the sudden coolness of losing his touch, "I think we feel the same way, not sure how to act around the other. I- don't get mad at me saying but you're very rough around the edges and I don't think anyone ever explained you shouldn't kidnap someone you love, or hurt them. But feeling your nerves, I'm realizing we're the same. I never know how to act around you, I thought you hated me or something but you're nervous too."

Your tongue felt numb as you spilled as many words as possible. Unsure if you made sense. Unable to look at Feitan as you spoke.

He was quiet until a hand touched your cheek, "You- feel for me how I feel for you?"

You nod.

Feitan brought your chin up so your gazes could connect. There was no maliciousness, only nerves. His lips aren't in their normal frown, instead they're slightly parted. He pulled you closer, hating that you chose to sit inches too far for his taste, having been in his arms prior.

You let out a whine as Feitan leaned in, his breath fanning along your lips. Your body was begging for him to close the gap, your stomach a fluttering mess of butterflies working its way through your ribcage. Blood pounded in your ears,

"Feitan?"

"Quiet." Fingers shake as you bring them to run through his black locks, causing a shiver to go down his spine and the smallest of noises to come from his throat. You found something he enjoyed and your heart felt content as you massaged along his scalp as his lips lay centimeters from yours.

The kiss was hesitant. Barely a peck as the touch of your lips had you both upright, shocked, staring at the other. Like a deer in headlights you waited for him to get upset, to kill you even. But he only captured your lips again, for a deeper kiss as your lips meshed together. His tongue pushed in, exploring your mouth greedily as he squeezed your waist. You made a noise as he flipped you underneath him, slamming his mouth back against yours as he pressed himself into you.

When you two parted, gasping for air, uncertain as you each explored each other's bodies, a gentle smile pulled at the corners of your lips. Feitan licked along your jaw, licked down your neck occasionally sucking on your sensitive skin. You whimpered and he pulled away as if you'd stabbed him.

"Liked.. that?" When you nodded his eyes glossed over. You liked it as he sucked and bit at your neck. What other pain could he inflict to bring you pleasure? You really were made for him, he told himself.

You reach up to try to take one of his hands into yours, he obliged, put his weight on his other forearm, "So.. I.." Embarrassment hit you and you suddenly felt ridiculous for what you were about to ask.

"What."

"Are we..?"

"Don't understand."

Your face went red, you looked away still feeling his breath across your face, "Never mind."

"Go to sleep, you're thinking too hard." Feitan huffed as he rolled off you, "Taking you outside tomorrow, you need rest."

"Okay."

To your surprise he hugged you from behind, nestling up to you, letting you slot into him as if it were the perfect fit. You could tell this was new, not something he did from how tense his body was. Sleep finally began to overtake your senses. A blossoming happiness in your chest as he traced a finger along your skin whilst holding your waist.

You fell asleep with a smile. Fell asleep with your back to his chest, him spooning you as if this was suddenly normal. As if you were an ordinary couple. You found comfort in his quiet breaths and knowing he'd watch over you. That night you dreamed of the day you met Feitan, and it changed, no longer was it filled with blood and cries, but a joy as if it were love at first sight. You two hand in hand walking off to a new life.

That morning you awoke with not a care in the world. You thought waking up to an empty bed would hurt, but nothing would diminish the smile smacked onto your lips. From an amazing dream to remembering your first kiss with Feitan, nothing could have taken that away. Giddy, you dressed in your most comfortable outfit and skipped out to face the rest of your day with excitement, feeling lighter than ever. The normal weight and anxiety you woke up with, was gone, replaced with a sense of purpose.

A list formed in your head of what you wanted to do. 1. Check the weather and if Feitan doesn't have to work, 2. Make breakfast, 3. Go outside.

The morning sun was strong amidst the blue, cloudless sky as you stared out the kitchen window. You grinned before grabbing ingredients you'd need for breakfast, hoping Feitan would be joining, but regardless you'd cook for him. You worked with a hop in your step, movements nonchalant as you continued to glance at the mid-morning sky. Too focused to feel a presence hidden, watching, until-

"You look... happy."

You squeaked, jumping at the sudden voice. You felt his dark aura first before you turned to see him, standing in the doorway, "Good morning. Hungry?"

Feitan nodded, inching over to the table. Your smile ignites a pain in his chest that he didn't understand. As he looked over you, all he could think about was his lips on yours and the addiction of it that stained his blood. How you'd snuggled into him. How in your sleep you'd begged him not to leave you. Feitan doesn't think he likes the churning in his stomach or the nerves coursing through him as he looks at you- it scares him. You had the power to turn him into this.

"Made scrambled eggs and toast, that okay?" You set a plate in front of him, creases at the corner of your eyes as you do so.

"Yes." He watched as you got him something to drink, then sat down with your own food. On the tip of his tongue are questions about last night, but Feitan felt ridiculous asking if you liked kissing him, or if he could do it again.

"Is it okay? Made it kind of quick, it's a nice day out." You smiled warmly at him, expectantly.

"Yes, good. We'll go outside when you're done."

He remembered and was following through, it meant the world to you. So you finish eating to clean up, which he surprised you by doing himself.

You were like an excited puppy standing by the front door bouncing on the balls of your feet.

"Stay in my sight. Can't run anywhere without me finding."

"I know I know. Can I run around the yard at least?"

"Sure." His threat went right over your head. It hits him that you don't need a threat to stay put. You weren't planning anything.

It didn't take long to undo the litany of locks on the door, it didn't matter if you knew where any keys were kept. Nen was the key factor to them.

He had to urge you out, that it really was okay to be outside, "Go out, I'll be sitting right here." He said rubbing the low of your back.

After a few grueling seconds you comply, a small giggle as you hurry off the porch. There was pure glee on your face, in your body and voice as your feet touched the grass. Squealing you carefully move around, skipping one way then the other.

You were a curious thing to Feitan, who found nothing interesting in the nature that surrounded the house. But you, running around in circles until you collapsed out of breath, loved it. You looked serene, stunning, just taking the breath away from Feitan as he watched you. You were perfect.

It hurt. It hurt. Feitan's convinced he was dying. Heaviness weighing on his chest and shoulders as he watched you. He didn't know how to be what you need. For the first time since kidnapping you he questions his judgment seeing how happy you were being outside, something he'd stolen from you. He wondered if he could give you the love you deserved when he'd never experienced it himself. While he hated himself. While he hated what was inside his darkened mind compared to the light that was you. So ethereal and kind, unlike him whose hands would forever be tainted.

Unbeknownst to you, Feitan retreated within himself while you basked in the summer sun.

Five weeks ago Feitan kissed you. He'd taken you outside and it'd been one of the best days of your life. You were certain it was the turning point in the relationship but- it wasn't. Things weren't worse by any means, but he treated your touch like the plague.

It felt like a continuous stab to the heart, every minute of the day at this point. You felt stupid. After a week of attempting physical contact in bed or on the couch, you gave up not wanting to further embarrass yourself. And slowly the conversation died out. He stopped eating meals at the table. Staying as far away as possible in bed, you began moving your pillows back up to the attic, which caused him to intervene. Making it clear you weren't permitted to do that, he locked the door to the attic shortly after.

He left two weeks ago for an important job. You only knew he was okay because Phinks stopped by to check on you and bring food. It took everything in you not to ask Phinks for advice, you'd only met him in passing and Feitan was... absurdly possessive. Even his closest 'friend' couldn't get within a foot of you without facing Feitan's wrath.

So you spent the days alone re-reading a book because you can't quite pay attention to it. You spend too long staring out the window by the front door, yearning pathetically from the couch. Knowing there were cameras kept you from crying for a strange reason you couldn't pinpoint, perhaps wanting to seem strong if he checked in.

You think it's Friday, 16 days since Feitan left. Time blended together, especially when he wasn't there to mark the calendar.

Frustration bubbled in your chest as you threw your towel into the corner of the bathroom. Your wet hair seeps into your nightgown, purple hues taking over the blue sky. You want to throw your shampoo, then your body wash you think. For a second you felt the appeal of thrashing your fist into the sink mirror. How good that would feel, you'd have control over something.

Breathe in. Out.

You count in your head, staring at your reflection with disgust. This would show him, right? You thought about him finding you all bloody, the panic that would consume him, and hopefully guilt too.

Tears prick your eyes, you huff moving back. Your reflection blurred. Annoyance grew, controlled her until-

SLAM. The sound of the front door closed suddenly, announcing that Feitan was back- and in the manner the door slammed, told you he wasn't alone.

You scamper out of the bathroom, practically forgetting your prior plans, needing to catch a glimpse of Feitan.

In his arms, he carried an unconscious woman bound and gagged.

Your stomach plummeted.

He glanced your way once before disappearing down to the basement.

Lips trembling, you stumbled forward, acting against better judgment. The air leading down to Feitan's torture room was dense and metallic scented. Rotted and death-like. You hated it down there, you felt bile rise up into your throat but you pushed through the fear that begged you to turn back.

You stood hidden behind the doorway, peaking in just so you could see Feitan had already finished tying her down in the chair. You weren't sure if he felt your presence as if he did he made no effort to greet you. Did he not miss you? Your fists clench as you rake across the battered woman, taking her in. She was beautiful. Fuck. The only relief you felt was that she sat in that chair- meaning she wasn't here to replace you. Feitan hadn't put you in that chair ever.

You stepped through the doorway as Feitan picked up a knife from a table.

Feitan's head snapped in your direction. His body language went taut, surprised, so he hadn't noticed you. He'd been too wrapped up in the woman who passed you in beauty in every way possible. Did he notice that as he looked at you now? Self conscious thoughts attack your mind as you drop your head.

"You're- you want to watch?" His voice was filled with hope, not that you noticed. You heard it as disgust by having you in the room.

You nod, drop into your chair beside the door, one you hadn't sat in, in five weeks.

For the first time he didn't need to remind you to watch his every action.

Your eyes couldn't be pried from his hands. He wondered if you were even blinking. What happened for this change? Feitan wracked his brain as he cut into the woman. He didn't notice what he was doing, hardly listening to her cries and shit information spilling from her lips. Did something happen to you? Phinks said you were fine. Feitan's thoughts flick to his recent closed-off behavior, knowing it had to be upsetting you. Shit. That was it, right? He moved on to more cuts, more stabs to bleed his prisoner dry. She was saying things he already knew, he told Chrollo this woman would be useless, so this was a waste. Why were you choosing to watch this? He wanted to look at you but also needed to finish work, for once torturing another being was boring him. He wanted to get back to you, needed to talk to you, apologize even.

SLAM.

You were reeling- unable to contain yourself as you stormed from the room. One second your eyes were flickering from floor to the captive's body following Feitan's every movement, to watching the walls of the basement fly by as you raced towards a bathroom.

Disgust curdled inside you. Anger wrenched at your limbs. You fumed as you remembered how he touched that woman's body as if torturing her was a sensual dance. It made you sick to see how his fingers would flit along parts of her skin that you dreamed he'd touch on yourself. He hadn't looked at you! You gagged over the toilet, head pounding as your body attempted to heave bile from your stomach. Dizzied with jealousy and hurt, you want to cry. Maybe attempt to slap Feitan if he'd let you. You think of your idea with the mirror, that could work.

Feitan stood outside the door, as soon as you opened it, you walked face first into his chest. Out of reflex you shoved him back, wide eyed at him.

"What's wrong? Throw up?" There was concern written all over him. Actual legitimate emotion, softness in his face as he inched closer.

"Dry heaved." You said, unable to hold back the snark in your tone.

"Okay?"

You glared, confidence surging within you as all you could see was green. Feitan took a step back, surprised. "Seriously?" You huffed, "Just go back to your work."

As you turn to leave him standing dumbfounded in the hall to head upstairs, his hand wrapped around your bicep. You're pulled back with force that makes you lose your breath. Your back's forced against the stone wall, Feitan caging you between his arms. "What is wrong with you?"

You swallow, the lump in your throat refusing to go. You felt instant shame with yourself but yet- didn't he deserve your anger? Was he really that dense with your emotions? Squaring yourself, you wouldn't back down, "I'm fine. Just.. go back to her."

Oh! "Funny girl." Feitan cackled. A shallow, chill inducing laugh escaped his lips.

Incredulously you shook your head, "Why are you laughing?"

He pushed himself off the wall and away from you. Still fucking laughing.

You balled your fists and walked over to him, fuming. "Stop it!" He let you hit his chest with your fists, let you throw your little temper tantrum as amusement danced in his dark eyes.

It was when tears began to fall did he finally compose himself. Feitan wiped the stray tears and wouldn't let you look away from him, hand possessively holding your jaw. "Jealous." He smirked. "My silly girl jealous over my work. Work, Y/N."

"I-It's not that- not the same. You've.. You've never brought a girl back here before." Oh god if only you could curl up under a blanket and hide, shame crossing your face, "It's not funny."

"How is it not? You're jealous over someone who will die."

"You're touching her." You spat, "You don't touch me, barely. Not after.. I thought." Taking a deep breath you collected yourself before beginning, "Since you moved me into your room, since we kissed and fell asleep together, you act like it never happened and ignore me for weeks. So yes I'm jealous of her, you're touching her so gently and in places I want you to touch me."

Your confession threw Feitan off his axis, processing your words at a million miles an hour yet it was like he stared at you brain dead. He really fucked this up. "I'm not being gentle. I'm torturing her." He did not understand how you thought he was being intimate with a prisoner, it killed him to stay away from you.

"But you brush along her so gently before making cuts, I thought I was going to die!" And he'd skipped past the part where you brought up the kiss and how he'd held you. Of course, "I'm going to go take a nap."

He let you go, watching your dejected form march up the wooden stairs. His brows furrowed over what the fuck just happened. He'd let you storm off and speak to him in a way he'd never imagine you would.

Feitan clenched his fists. He wanted to follow after you but there was one final thing he needed to take care of.

Red cascaded down the front of the woman as he slit her throat. Her tears and pleading only fueling the fire started within him. He stripped himself of his gear, leaving him blood free to chase after you.

You don't move from where you lay under the covers in his bed, but Feitan knew you weren't asleep. He pads to the bed, carefully sitting on the edge next to you.

"Y/N."

You don't respond.

He sighed, "She's dead." You visibly tensed.

You begrudgingly sit up knowing you've been caught, looking at him with reddened eyes. "Oh."

Feitan tucked a loose piece of hair behind your ear, "Since our kiss, I don't know how to act around you."

His omission makes you frown, "I don't understand."

"When you said you felt for me how I felt for you.. made me happy. You kissed me back, wanted me to hold you. I didn't expect it, thought you'd regret it later so I ran."

"I thought you regretted it."

"Never."

"I feel.. dumb." You said.

"Little foolish. But, I like that. Your jealousy is cute." He smirked, "But no reason to be anymore, okay?" You nod, scooting closer to him. Feitan tucks an arm around you, cradling the side of your head, "Was happy you came down to watch but, guess I know why now."

"Maybe I can.. slowly come down for little bits? I- don't like it but, you like it when I watch you work." You're burning, nauseas, because the last thing you wanted was to listen to screams, to bones breaking, to the noises that'd keep you up at night. But it would be for Feitan.

"I would like that." He nodded with sick excitement behind his eyes.

Silence. Softened smiles. Fluttering heart beats as a thick tension develops between you two. He was staring at your lips, your neck, and you couldn't tear yourself away from him. Closer, you silently lean in as your breathing turns heavy. You were sure he could hear your hammering heart beat as if it'd burst from your chest.

The gap closed. Your lips meet in a dance of uncertainty as self consciousness absorbs your minds until it bursts from need. Feitan was cold, certain as he pressed his lips hard to yours over and over, teeth tugging on your bottom lip. On fire as you gasp from the pain, metallic blood enters your mouth as Feitan's tongue pushes its way in. He explored you as his fingers dig into your side, your tongue dancing along his as electricity runs through your veins. You think your whole body is trembling, or maybe it was his as the kiss turned desperate, teeth gnashing, tongues shoved down the other's throat as saliva mixed; once light kisses turned to an all out way for the two of you to claim the other.

Feitan helped your legs wrap around his waist before he flipped you underneath him hovering over you on the bed. His whimpers against your mouth were the greatest thing you think you'll ever hear. And his need to control you, to possess you as his made your head go cloudy with want as his mouth worked against yours. He was consuming you as his confidence grew. That pit in his stomach growing with the certainty of your feelings, the change of the tide after nine months, that he felt. You wanted him. You understood everything he'd done had been to show you his feelings. So now he'd claim you like he should have weeks ago, rather than worry about the kiss.

Atop you, he watched with dark glee how you panted, mewled for him as he pulled away to watch you. You clambered for him as you were out of breath, saliva dripping from the side of your lips. In a swift motion he lifted your torso and pulled your shirt from your body, and as he pushed you back he leaned down entranced by your bare skin. He bit into your collarbone, licked along the mark that broke skin. You'd gasped in surprise, fingers twisting into his top, tears glistening in your eyes.

He continued to mark you, your cries music to him as he broke more of your skin with his teeth. Blood trickling only to be licked up by Feitan. You'd be littered with hickeys in the morning and the thought of you all bruised up made his cock twitch. Feitan slowly nibbled along one of your hardened nipples, studying how your body reacted. You were a desperate little thing he learned quickly as he sucked on your nipples, groping and molding your breasts with his strong fingers. Already quaking- how pathetic.

Feitan began to wonder if you'd done this before, because in the year he'd watched you, you never brought someone home or went to another's. But a possessive streak hits him and he doesn't want to know, because no one else would ever have you from here on out. He was going to make your cunt into the shape of his cock, make it so you'd never want or need anyone else.

"Fei," You whined, and the usage of a nickname made his head snap up to meet your lidded eyes. Your hips bucked against his as he straddled you and the discomfort of his hardened cock in his slacks began to gnaw at his brain.

As his fingers begin to toy with your waist band, he lets himself wonder if this was a dream. He'd have been as patient as you needed him to be. So to think everything he dreamed about for almost 2 years was coming to fruition? He stripped himself of his top and slacks, leaving only his underwear.

Fear clamped in the back of your mind as if you needed to escape. But as the cool air met your exposed entrance as Feitan tossed your boxers away, you relinquished yourself to him. He admired you from his knees as he pushed your thighs apart.

"Tell me what you want." A mischievous glint shone in his eyes and you shivered.

"Y-you Feitan." You squirmed under his heavy gaze, desperately wanting to cover up. He inspected every inch of you, but he always came back to the scar on your rib cage that held his name. His property.

Feitan shuddered hearing how lustfully you spoke his name, he liked this sudden change in dynamic. Liked how you begged for him so easily as he stroked so close but not quite at your most sensitive areas. Your pussy glistened, liquid coating your folds and slowly dripping to the sheets.

You could only see his dark eyes as your world spun on its axis. You feel him between your legs, tongue leisurely licking along your aching clit. Taking his time he listened to your whimpers, to your gasps as he changed the pace. You're grasping the sheets, knuckles white as your entrance fluttered in want. He latched onto your clit, and you cried as he suckled and teeth brushed along your sensitive bundle of nerves. Working you up to a climax, he presses his palms into your legs to keep them open. You're shaking. You're desperately trying to escape an onslaught your poor brain and body had never experienced before. It wasn't longer before you cried out, visiting turning black then white as you came, hips jerking and your lips babbling nonsense. Feitan continued to lick helping you come down, pride beaming from his chest. Internally thanking Phinks for all the times over the years he pushed him into sharing someone's bed, that he needed practice, all for you even if he didn't know it yet.

You moaned, furiously blinking before his tongue dances along your folds, licking and sucking at your cum like it's the best meal he'd ever taste. Tongue prodding at your entrance, his gaze flicks up to see you watch him in awe and pleasure, as he licks along your walls. Your clit is puffy as he worked his way back up, a finger delicately toying at your entrance as you gasp. More?

Feitan hummed against your clit, liquid pleasure pulsing within him but all he could do was grind against the mattress, he wanted to see you come apart some more. You babble something incoherent as he brings a finger up and covers it in your arousal, gently sucking still. His middle finger sunk in with ease, your back arching as he fills you. He adds another. He smiled so cruelly as your heat welcomed them so greedily.

"Tight cunt." Feitan groaned, "So wet. Taste so good." He hummed against your clit and the vibrations made you whimper.

You're moaning for him like he was your life line. Sucking him in and begging for more and you were starting to wonder which way was up or down. His tongue oscillating in mesmerizing circles along your clit, his fingers curling along your gummy walls that beg him for more. You were on the edge. You felt pleasure building you up so deliciously, "Fei, more, more, feel good."

For a second he froze as one of your hands tangle in his hair, but seeing you blissed out in his bed- he made you nearly sob as added a third finger stretching you apart as he cruelly sucked your clit until your moans are cries, gasping and loud, as if you were in pain. But instead, once more, ecstasy blossomed in your abdomen right as you thought you'd burst, and tears fell fast. You came on his tongue and fingers, squirt dribbling, your cunt fluttering around him as his motions slowed.

"Pretty." He cooed as he watched your writhing body with curiosity.

A confused cry left you as his touch disappeared, but you watched as he stripped himself of his underwear, finally leaving him bare.

"Gonna fuck you. All mine."

You whimper as he settles between your legs, his thick cockhead prodding at your slick entrance.

"Be good and take me." Feitan grunted as he began to push in.

"F-Fei- Virgin- I-I'm a-" You cried as you thrashed on the sheets, feeling as if Feitan was splitting you in two as he sheathed himself inside you.

An onslaught of butterflies swarmed in his stomach and could have come on the spot from your words alone. A virgin? He knew you were meant to be his, and him yours.

"There you go, tight cunt for me to fill." He pressed his lips to yours, knots in his core tightened as he thrusted deeper, hips to the hilt as he was finally claiming you, filling you.

He watched your eyes go wide, eyes spasming from the intrusion. Your gummy walls squeezing his cock so good as she attempted to accommodate his size. Feitan swallowed hard, trying to stifle his own noises, desperately wanting to be so far in you that you'd never think of anything else.

Blood trickled from your cunt and onto the sheets and it stirred Feitan's hips into a bruising pace as he felt the warmth of your virgin blood surrounding his cock. Liked knowing what he did to you, watching his outline in your stomach as he pushed down, a slimy grin forming on his lips.

He wanted to break you. But he felt himself losing composure as he pounded into your tight cunt. The two of you consumed with warmth and fire spreading along your nerves as together, you chased an intense high consummating some sick love.

"Mine." You were losing your mind as Feitan grunted those words, "Mine." He snapped his hips and you gasped from the intrusion of his cock against your womb, "Tell me who you belong to."

Your pretty eyes were hazy, rolling back into your head as your poor fucked out brain couldn't comprehend. His cock felt so perfect inside your pussy that coated him in your cream from the bliss you felt.

"You!" You cry out, "Fei- Feitan. You! I'm yours." You sobbed, only his name on your tongue and on your mind.

Feitan relished in the sight of his cock fucking into you, disappearing into your depth, his hips flushed with your own. And each time he pulled out, the sight of your bloodied cum on his length made him shudder. He gathered your discharge on his thumb and used it to coat your clit, relentlessly rubbing over it. His hips started to move again, desperately forcing himself deeper as he played with your bud. Your cunt spasming around him again as you attempted to escape his onslaught of overstimulation.

"T-Too much- can't Fei-"

"Never push me away," He threatened, leaning down to nip at your ear, "Will punish you."

You whimpered but the way your cunt opened up for him told him all he needed to know-- the pain, the helplessness, he was turning you on. Straightening again he continued to fuck into you, swiping over your clit, far past the point of pleasing you, rough thrusts hitting your g-spot over and over. You let out an honest to god cry as your third orgasm hit, words thick and hard to understand but Feitan understood how you begged and pleaded for him.

Feitan gripped your hips harder so he could drive into you at a relentless pace, throwing his head back, looking up to the ceiling as he gave you all he had. You pulsed around him all swollen and tight and he knew he wouldn't last much longer,

"Gonna fill you up. Take my cum in your pussy. Mine. My pussy- you're mine." Feitan was past the point of keeping quiet as his possessiveness slammed into him full force. The thought of his cum painting your insides and leaking out...

Falling forward he crushed his mouth onto yours, giving several long thrusts before his vision whited out as he came. Cock twitching as he filled you to the brim, hips stuttering all the way against you, hot, thick ropes of cum coating you. Claiming you. Becoming one with you.

His pace slowed but his lips never left yours, the two of you panting into each other as you came down. Feitan pulled away, resting his forehead to yours, your eyes meeting. Vulnerability. Like truly seeing each other for the first time. He stroked your cheekbones carefully, trying to sense any fear. But nothing. Your eyes shone with a million stars as you shuddered, staring at him, hips twitching as he pulled out. Leaving you emptier than you'd ever been.

Feitan pulled away, dropping back to his knees, carefully stroking along where he'd carved his name into your skin, stroking down your waist then to your thighs. His touch cold, addictive as he thumbed along your leaking folds, his cum beginning to drip down. "Mine."

"Yours."

He stared at you before his cheeks tinted pink, "I'm yours too. Only yours. Don't care about stupid woman I tortured, just my job. You're my.. life. Won't give you space again, won't run if I get scared, this was all my fault, I didn't want to bring you pain. I'll make it up to you."

Your eyes widen with love filling them, a stupidly happy grin washing over you from the gravity of his words, "I love you."

Feitan froze like he was in head on collision, by your proclamation. Love. Did he deserve that? No. He didn't deserve your love but he couldn't deny the happiness he felt in his chest and how his pulse skyrocketed, "Love you as well."

Feitan laid at your side, stroking along your body as sleep eventually overcame you. You seemed so innocent, so small lying in his arms like that. Watching you sleep was a favorite pastime, but knowing you slumbered with his cum buried in you was enough to entrance him back into your gravity.

Your passed out form hardly reacted to his touches, soft moans as he slid his fingers in and out of your leaking cunt. Little twitches as he sucked on your nipples. And you stayed asleep as he slipped his re-hardened cock back inside of your abused cunt, full heartedly welcoming him in.

The bed creaked and thumped against the wall as he let loose, let his grunt and sobs loudly leave him as he fucked you full once more. This was heaven. Pure bliss. Not even torturing made him feel this way, so high, so invincible. Feitan indulged in you until he was a whiny overstimulated mess, heaving atop you and leaving even more marks. He fucked you until he couldn't cum anymore, dumping two more loads into your pussy that became swollen and tight, a perfect fit for his cock.

It was then that he could finally sleep, curled up next to your limp body holding you flush. He pet your hair possessively as you subconsciously cuddled into him further, blood pounding in his ears. The fact you'd been jealous made his chest soar. You hated someone for having his attention because you wanted it. You loved him for him. And it was then that he could finally drift off to sleep, content knowing you were filled with him. His.

#feitan x reader #feitan portor #feitan x you #feitan hxh #feitan smut #yandere feitan #phantom troupe #hxh fanfic #hunter x hunter #hxh x reader #hxh smut #phantom troupe smut #phinks #chrollo #uvogin #feitan porter x reader #feitan headcanons #hhighkey’s phantom troupe universe

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phantom-scares · 2 months ago

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Oh, to be cuddling with brahms as he humps my leg in the most desperate pace ever, begging and whimpering as if his life depends on it (it does). He holds onto your waist while rubbing himself against your soft thigh

Once he finally cums, he can feel the euphoria everywhere. He can only thank you for honoring him with such pleasure. But then he gets on top of you, pinning you on the bed.

"More..."

-👻!

#brahms x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire x reader #slasher x reader #smut #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms the boy #fanfiction #x reader #brahms heelshire smut #the boy x reader #gn reader #fanfic #brahms #brahms smut #the boy 2016 #brahms the doll #phantom speaks

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moechies · 3 months ago

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rrr the yummiest threesome with phinks and shalnark <3 head so fuzzy about big cock phinks pulling your little white panties to the side for easy access to that plush little cunt, and having no remorse despite your little cries of how big he is and how it hurts. and shalnark <3 he’s so baby and yes .. he does feel bad for you in the slightest so he helps to satiate the pain by suckling at that pretty little clit and jerking himself off. he can’t have a pretty lady in even more stress than phinks has bestowed upon you …

ʚ♡ɞ

“stop squirmin’ around…” phinks grunts, readjusting your leg previously propped up onto his shoulder. he tugs at your hips, nudging himself impossibly deeper against your plush walls. “p—phinks!” you mewl, chewing down at your bottom lip to halt your cries. your nails drag down against his bicep, eliciting a hiss.

“fuck,” phinks sighs, peering down at the sight of your swollen cunt swallowing him whole. “t—this is the shit.” the brute grunts, thumbing at your folds and tugging the sticky fabric further to the side.

“no kidding.” the blonde man besides you grins, meeting your teary eyes with a soft hum. “so good for us, girl. mhm.” shalnark hums, pressing down harshly at your clit. “s—shal..” you drag out a whine, a subconscious beg for mercy. “s’—s’mean..”

“mm, it’ll be okay.” he assures with a hum and a soft peck to the tip of your nose. “doing so good for us already. hold out a little, yeah?” he presses a gentle kiss across your eyelids, blocking your view off from the perverted sight of his right hand reaching into his pants. your eyes flutter open anyway — especially when you hear a soft groan fall from the plush lips of the man.

“hnn !” you’re caught off guard by a harsh thrust to your cunt,

“little thing, you best not forget who’s fucking you here just ‘cause shal’s sweetmouthin’ you.”

“s—sorry!” you whine damn sweetly, making phinks scoff.

you’re damn pretty. phinks wouldn’t admit it out loud — shalnark would though — but your pretty little body, the back pliant against the snow sheets, the front against the two men, a gorgeous gleam of sweat painting your soft skin — you’re a perfect little thing. he’s sure shalnark’s thinking the same thing.

he continues his mean strokes to your cunt, humping sloppily against your plush thighs with load groans. you reciprocate with soft whines and hiccups, mewling loudly when you feel warm, sticky balls slap against the fat of your ass.

“fuck, wan’ taste.” shal groans from besides you — removing his thumb from your clit and wasting no time before replacing it with his plush lips. your back arches almost painfully, a shrill squeak elicited from your lips when he suckles meanly at the bundle of nerves, humming against the sensitive flesh. you don’t miss the way the mattress recoils gently from shalnark’s mean pumps to his heavy cock — lewd swipes across the dewy slit of his cock head to soothe the ache. “so shweet,” shalnark whines, “like sap or hh..honey..”

“y’rarely c—cuss, shal. pussy’s got ya in a chokehold?” phinks hisses, not missing the new angle he’s fucking you at after your sudden arch. with another brutal thrust, you feel phinks’ pudgy tip browse across your cervix, causing a loud yelp. “p—phinks h.. hurts!”

“my bad, pretty lady. i can’t say s’all my fault though, y’r asking for it with a damn pretty body like this.” phinks hums, hips stuttering and growing sloppy as his pace quickens. shal’s losing himself too — moaning endlessly around your abused clit — accidently swiping his tongue over where you too connect. “s—shal, damn pervert.” phinks growls, and shalnark only whines in response.

you feel your pussy flutter around the man, stomach aching and yearning for release. “p—phinks, shal.. gon’ cum, gon’ cum, please!” you hiccup, pretty manicure etched into his forearm. “phi—phinks, help me..”

“you got it pretty lady.” the man huffs, pressing his shaft wholly deep into you with no remorse. shal does his job effectively as well — softly nibbling at your clit and that does it.

your pussy clenches endlessly around phinks’ aching cock, slathering the shaft in warm white cream — the two returning the favor. “fuckin’ choking him,” phinks grunts as he cums his thick, viscous spent into your worn cunt, so much that it drools from the sides when he pulls away even in the slightest.

you whimper at the loss from inside, and even shalnark’s detachment from your clit. you turn your head slightly to meet the boy’s cerulean eyes, met with lidded eyes and blushed cheeks. you peer down and don’t miss the viscous nut that coats his hands and dirtied the cloth of his pants —

spiders spin webs after all. ♥︎

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sunshine-for-serotonin · 9 months ago

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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.

#erik destler #phantom of the opera smut #erik destler smut #disney x reader #yandere erik destler #erik x reader #erik poto #erik destler x reader #yandere phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera x reader

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katz-rambles · 9 months ago

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I'm soooo happy you liked my idea, and you wrote it so well ! I have another idea for you if you want ;)

How about a story with a fem!reader who appears all innocent and soft, and everyone thinks she's just so pure, prudish even. That is, until one of the ghouls (you can choose who) accidentally finds her diary, which is filled with the filthiest, dirtiest scenarios and fantasies about them. 😏

AHHHH!! 💗💗 YES OML!! I chose Phantom, I hope you don't mind! It's my first time writing for him, so I hope I didn't do too bad. I didn't go too much into the scenarios, but let's just say this was one of them 😉.

1.1k words!!

(nsfw, fem!reader, dom!reader, sub!Phantom, edging, oral (both fem and male receiving), unprotected sex, cumming inside, I think that's it please tell me if I missed anything!)

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

You've always been seen as someone who, for being a sibling of sin, is quite innocent. You're not mad about that, but you know you're not that innocent. Just because you don't act like it doesn't mean you're not just like them. Though not many people know that, and you intend to keep it that way.

“Morning, Phantom.” You mumble through a yawn. It's too early to be doing anything right now. When he notices you he smiles right back at you.

“Hey, sweets.” He rests a hand on your shoulder and gives a soft kiss to your forehead. You hear him purring, not as loud as it is when it's just the two of you but it's still there.

—

After a delicious breakfast you've gone down to the garden to help Mountain out with the plants and picking some herbs, it's easy enough and you get to spend time with Mountain so you agree.

It's calm and peaceful but unfortunately all good things must come to an end, and you go down to your room. When you open your door you see Phantom sitting on the bed, you see a faint blush, a dark purple-ish colour, and you notice a bulge in his top tight jeans that he's trying, and failing, to hide.

“What's going on?” You decide to break the silence and he looks at you, his eyes are filled with lust and need. You've never seen him like this, but you think you need to see him more often like this. You can't ignore the heat that starts in your core.

He doesn't respond to you, instead he holds up your diary and you can see his hand shaking as he does so.

“I didn't mean to read it. It was sitting on your bed and it was open so I skimmed it.” He lets out a shaky breath at the end of his excuse. You should be mad at him for looking through your things, especially something so personal. But for some reason you're not, but you won't let him know that.

“Phantom.” You call his name, doing your best to sound pissed, and you have to hold back a laugh when he looks up at you like a kicked puppy. Without saying anything you move over to him and rest your hand on his thigh. You sit on your bed beside him and let your hand move a little closer to his erection, making sure to watch him for any sign of discomfort.

“I'm sorry.” He apologizes and you realize how close you two are. Without thinking you grab him by the collar of his shirt and kiss him, straddling him and pushing him down so you're on top of him.

“Prove it.” You smirk against his lips and kiss him again, you kiss down his jawline and to his neck. Sucking and gently biting some spots that makes him whimper, and you love it.

“Let's get these out of the way?” You start to take off his shirt and he eagerly complies, you feel him reach for the zipper on your habit and you let him take it off you. You find his lips again and grind your wet core against his erection. You stand up and take off his pants, followed by his boxers to reveal his erection to you, you see a bead of pre-cum on the tip and you lick it off him, with this you can hear him gasp and his hips buck. You comply and take him into your mouth, bobbing your head on him. One of your hands goes to stroke that part of him you can't get into your mouth, with his hips bucking you can't help but gag a couple of times.

When you feel him twitch in your mouth you pull yourself off him and get back up on the bed, watching him furrow his brows and look up at you with pleading eyes.

“Why'd you stop?” He almost whines and his hand is holding your wrist. He looks too cute this way.

“You did something bad, you don't get to cum until I think I've forgiven you. Unless.. you can be a good boy for me?” You smirk watching his cock twitch at your words. He lets your wrist go and his hands go to your thighs. He quickly places his head in between them and starts to lap at your folds and suck on your clit. This time it's your turn to buck your hips up to him, he easily slides two of his fingers inside you as he sucks, a little harsher, on your clit. He's determined to make you cum on his face. You squeeze his face in your thighs and you feel your walls clench around his fingers as you cum on them. He eagerly laps up your arousal and he doesn't stop until you're twitching.

“Did I do good?” He looks up at you and you almost cum again just from the sight, his mouth and chin soaked in slick, his eyes are blown wide with lust. He looks so cute. All you can do is nod, you grab him and pull him back up to the bed.

Once you've gotten him in a comfortable position and straddle him, once again, and lower yourself onto his cock. A moan rips from you as you reach the base, the stretch is something you didn't know you needed. You start to grind your hips onto him, the base of his cock rubs against your clit and you whimper. But you can barely hear yourself over the moans and whimpers Phantoms gives you. His hands hold your hips and you start to move a bit faster.

“Unholy fuck.. you're so tight.” He whimpers and his hips buck up to meet yours. You're both moaning and you're kinda surprised no one can hear you two. He grabs you and pulls you down into a rough kiss, tongue and teeth clashing but neither of you mind. You know you won't last long at this rate and you can feel yourself clench around his cock. He moans and whines and you cum on his cock, squeezing him and you feel him cum inside you with a loud whimper.

“Do you forgive me now?” He asks and this time you laugh at him.

“Yeah, I think I do.” You kiss him once again and go to push yourself up but he pulls you back down.

“Stay.. we can clean up in the morning.” He mumbles, already half asleep, and who are you to deny him sleep after two mind-blowing orgasms.

#ghost band #ghost band x reader #phantom ghoul #phantom x reader #Phantom x reader smut #Phantom ghoul smut #ghost x reader #ghost smut #mountain ghost #the band ghost #ghost band smut #nameless ghouls smut #smut

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da-rulah · 1 year ago

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Rituale Septem - Day 2: Sloth

Pairing: (Phantom x f!reader)

Summary: With one sin down, your focus is on day two; the sin of sloth. Terzo sends his Ghouls to take care of your every need, so you don't have to lift a finger...

Rating: Mature, MDNI 18+

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: Male masturbation, soft dom (f), m sub, sort of a servant dynamic (but fully consensual), fingering, grinding, p in v sex, pulling out

AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

A/N: So, I became a Ghost fan in July, which means I don't know anything about Terzo era Ghouls and would have struggled hugely to write them. I'm aware that Swiss and Dew/Sodo were very briefly on stage with Terzo? (I think?) or at least had silver masks with Cardinal Copia like they do in this fic, but Phantom wouldn't have. Just, for arguments sake, picture them as 'trainee Ghouls', and so have all got silver masks. Thanks. Love ya.

Prev: Day 1 - Lust | Next: Day 3 - Gluttony

Terzo didn’t sleep well that night.

You may have expected him to, spent and exhausted from your exploits together that afternoon but he was wide awake. His head swam with images of you, his cock thickening as he recounted the noises you’d made for him, the way you’d felt around him...

Perhaps it was the pent up lust that had built whilst you had teased each other mercilessly that made his attraction to you so strong – he assumed it would pass, a minor infatuation as he had had many times before. He simply liked how you had fought back against his own teasing and come ready to seduce him right back, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

This week of rituals with himself and whoever else was invited to play with you was the most fresh and exciting injection of vitality to his sex drive he noted in recent years. However, he knew that he couldn’t partake in every ritual each day of the week – he wasn’t the one who needed Lucifer’s guidance. That was you. He was simply a supporting role, but he did know that that first sin with you would not be his last this week.

With his cock hard and aching beneath the silk sheets of his bedding, he grumbled in frustration as his mind swam with more images of taking you as he wished, giving you as much pleasure as you could take before finally giving in himself. He found himself wanting nothing more than to please you, to give you what you needed, to help you.

Terzo’s bare hand snaked across his stomach, giving in to his needs and wrapping his fingers around the base of his solid length to pump himself in time with the footage replaying in his mind's eye of his deep thrusts inside you. He groaned and growled to himself in the darkness of his bedroom, blissfully recounting the memories of that afternoon.

“Ohh, Principessa...” he whispered into the night, climax building embarrassingly fast, but he couldn’t help himself. Within just a few minutes, he was releasing a hurried and powerful load onto the hair across the expanse of his chest.

‘Just an infatuation’, he told himself. ‘This, too, shall pass.’

October 26th

You had every intention of getting up on time. You really did. But when your alarm had sounded, you’d perhaps smashed the snooze button a little too hard and rolled over into another light sleep that became a rather deep sleep.

It was a pounding on your door that woke you – a strong knock, almost aggressive. You shot up from the bed in your nightdress, uncaring of your modesty when the only person you knew would be at your door knocking this angrily would be Secondo.

You were late for work, judging by the sunlight that crept through the cracks of your curtains, and the October chill in the air of your humble little living quarters sent a chill washing over you when you’d peeled your bedsheets back. The knocking persisted, aggressive and loud; only Secondo would be this angry at your tardiness.

As you reached the door that was still being pounded against by his angry fist, you stumbled and latched onto the handle, wrenching it open with a litany of apologies spilling frantically from your mouth. You were never late for Secondo. Just once was a potentially sackable offense.

“Sister, calm down. I’m not Secondo...”

When you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and actually looked at whoever was at the door, you realised that it indeed wasn’t Secondo at all. It was a ghoul, silver shining mask glinting as if just polished.

One of the newer ones, only a few weeks into his role and still in his training phase. And here you were in a satin nightdress that did nothing to hide your pebbled nipples in the cold air of your room – and even behind his mask, you didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked down and widened when he noticed. Heat spread across your face in embarrassment, and you hid yourself behind the door, head poking from around the corner to talk to the ghoul.

He shook his head as if to rid himself of the image before he continued.

“Sorry, uh... Phantom, Sister. I’ve been sent by Papa?” he seemed just as confused as you did.

“S-Secondo sent a ghoul for me?” Your stomach dropped, knowing that if he hadn’t come to get you himself it was because he was too busy to – because you weren’t there to help him with his workload. And he’d be more pissed than you imagined. “Shit!”

“Oh, no! Sorry, I’m not... I wasn’t sent by Secondo, but Papa Terzo. He asked me to give you this?” he reached into the pocket of his trousers and handed you an envelope addressed to ‘Principessa’; his crest embedded in the wax seal on the back. Butterflies rammed your stomach lining as if they themselves were trying to get to the letter in his hand. You took it from him and ripped into it anxiously...

Good morning, Principessa. Did you sleep well last night? I certainly did not. Too much on my mind after yesterday... Each time I shut my eyes expecting the usual black void, all I could see was purple... I suppose you could say, I had my hands full most of the night. Imagine a wink, here. I believe you will need your rest today, no? You seemed somewhat sleepy when I last saw you yesterday. I can’t imagine why... but I have arranged for you to have the day off. I have some rules for you to follow, however, and they MUST be followed. 1. You are not to lift a finger, all day. This includes walking, eating, drinking - anything. (I will only make exceptions for using the bathroom and breathing.) 2. Ghouls will be on hand to help you through the day. First, our newest Ghoul, Phantom, will be at your beck and call. Go easy on him, he’s a nuisance but he’s quite shy. 3. The Ghouls are there willingly to help you with ALL of your needs. They are consenting and on hand should you need... anything. 4. If you have any questions, you send them to me via. Ghoul. You do not leave your abode today, you stay put and enjoy your lazy day. Break my rules, and the ritual is over. I will come and see you when I get a spare moment this evening. Put my Ghouls to good use, Sorella. Papa Emeritus III

You looked over the cursive and furrowed your brows. His cheek shone through even in his handwriting, toying with you and clearly enjoying it. You did have to smirk a little that you’d made your way so far into his head that your choice of lingerie had haunted him as he’d tried to sleep. ‘Had my hands full most of the night’... Did he mean what you thought he meant?

“So... you’re like, waiting on me?” you asked Phantom, who stood patiently waiting at your threshold.

“I guess so. He told me to take care of every need that arose. I can't let you do anything yourself. He didn’t say why, but told me he’d send me to the ninth circle of hell for treachery if I failed...” he explained, scratching the back of his neck anxiously.

“Oh... he wouldn’t do that, Phantom. Just so you know,” you tried to reassure him.

“You didn’t see the look on his face...” he chuckled, absolutely no humour behind it. “Still, he gave me a choice and explained what today entailed. I agreed. So uh, anything you need, I’m at your service.”

You wondered if he had deliberately emphasised part of that on purpose, sounding somewhat suggestive... And then it dawned on you.

Papa was giving you an easy way to perform sin today.

Sloth.

“Well, I suppose you’d better come in then,” you smiled, opening the door and stepping away from it, modesty long forgotten. Phantom stepped inside, nervously ringing his hands and standing awkwardly in the cramped little living space between your couch and practically ancient TV set. You moved to sit on the couch, getting comfortable seeing as you were apparently confined to it for the day.

“C-can I get you anything, sister?” he asked, eager to please already.

“Uh... I haven’t had breakfast yet?”

“On it!” he hurried, trotting into your little kitchenette, fishing through your fridge and cupboard to pull together ingredients to make you something from scratch, while you flicked on the TV to some pretentious morning show and kept an eye on the ghoul making a mess and a racket in your kitchen.

Perhaps a day off, lounging around and not lifting a finger would be nice...

Secondo was positively seething as he stomped into Terzo’s office, not bothering to knock and ignoring Sister Christine’s attempts to stall or calm him.

“Ah, come on in, fratello,” Terzo invited with sarcasm dripping from every word and a smug smile on his painted face.

“You gave my assistant the day off?! What right do you have? Do you know how much work I have to do?” he yelled, slamming his fist down on Terzo’s desk. “I think your title is going to your testone, fratellino (fat head, little brother)...”

Terzo’s smug smile vanished and a look of vague annoyance took over as he rose from his chair, readying for confrontation.

“And you seem to forget you lost yours,” he taunted. Secondo’s eyes widened before he grabbed the collar of his brother's shirt, pulling him far enough over the desk he could headbutt him if the need arose.

“Attento a come parli (watch your mouth),” he warned through grit teeth. He pushed Terzo back and took a step away from the desk. “Sister ____ is my staff. You had no authority!”

“Actually, I think you’ll find I do. I’m sure you’ll manage a singular day without her.”

Secondo knew there was no use in arguing with his brother, both ridiculously stubborn men in their own right. He huffed and turned to leave, shoes clacking loudly on the stone flooring.

“You work her too hard, fratello mio...” Terzo smirked. Secondo span on his heels, chewing the inside of his cheek to stop an onslaught of abuse from spilling from him like word vomit.

“Me?! You insolent little shit. I’m sure you worked her harder than necessary yesterday,” he accused. “What, is she your next little fixation? Your new little prediletta (favourite)?”

He couldn’t explain why, but Secondo’s insinuation that you were just another notch on his bedpost annoyed him more than being interrupted and screamed at in the first place. Sure, he had a reputation as a ladies’ man – and a man’s man too, for that matter – but perhaps it was merely Secondo’s tone that bothered him.

“Perhaps, before you judge, you would care to ask why your assistant is suddenly spending time with me after very little interaction at all in the past sixteen years since she took her vows, hm?”

Secondo laughed bitterly. “Please, do enlighten me!”

Terzo stalled for a moment – he wasn’t sure you wanted anybody else knowing, much less your boss. But if he was being this much trouble on day two of the seven, he could get in the way and ruin your chances at completing the ritual at all. If Secondo knew, perhaps he would step back, and allow you your chance to find yourself at the end of these seven days...

“She is performing a ritual. A very intense and laborious ritual. It takes place over seven days, and it must happen now, before All Hallow’s Eve.”

Secondo’s brow furrowed and his eyes squinted in suspicion, curiously searching the archives in his mind full of rituals and spells he had learned over the years. And then it dawned on him...

“Rituale Septem?” he barely whispered the name, shocked you would even attempt such a thing. He didn’t think you the type to be comfortable with such an extensive and invasive ritual. “Why would she need to speak with The Dark One?”

“She feels lost, fratello. I’m trying to guide my flock back onto a path she is able to see for herself. Do you understand?”

“Are you telling me she... is experiencing doubts?” For the first time in Satan knew how many years, Terzo saw hurt flash across his brother’s face. His hardened exterior was always a mask, that much was true, but the mention that perhaps the closest person he had to a friend in the ministry was doubting her position, doubting her faith... it stung him, and his mask slipped for just a moment.

“It’s not personal, Secondo. We mustn’t take it as such. But yes, she is doubting Him. Is it not my job to attempt whatever necessary when she is so desperate to hear His voice?”

Secondo thought for a moment, slowly sitting down in one of the chairs in front of Terzo’s desk.

“Sì, sì... Non ne avevo idea (I had no idea)…" he sighed. “Why would she not feel she could come to me?” His genuine confusion and disappointment were clear in his voice. He knew his rituals so well, had the deepest knowledge of anyone in the Ministry. He could have helped you, surely?

“Fratello, I mean no disrespect when I say this but... you are not the most emotionally available man to open up to, se sai cosa voglio dire (if you know what I mean). I believe she was worried you would be angry at her for her doubts,” Terzo explained, a gentility to his voice. He knew you meant more to Secondo than simply an employee. You don't work side by side with someone for six years and not develop some form of relationship.

Secondo’s mind ticked over, before he settled upon understanding rather than jumping straight into defensiveness. As much as he would like to, he couldn’t argue with that. Instead, he conceded, wanting nothing more than to help in any way he could.

“What do you need from me?” His head snapped up to look at Terzo who stood watching in amazement at his change in demeanour.

“Your co-operation,” he pleaded. “Today I’ve planned sloth for her. She must stay home and not lift a finger all day.”

“Concordato (agreed). Anything else?”

Terzo thought for a moment, going over the plans he had made for the week ahead to see if there was indeed anything Secondo could do.

“Actually, sì... There is perhaps one particular sin you would be very useful for...”

Your morning was, indeed, as lazy as Papa had intended for you. Phantom took three attempts to make an edible batch of pancakes since he categorically said no to every time you went to move from the couch and help him. He was right, of course. You had to stay put, but it wasn’t natural for you and it took fighting every natural instinct in your body not to help or tend to your needs yourself.

He’d done everything for you that morning, carrying you if you needed to walk, spoon-feeding you like a roman emperor (although you’re sure Julius Caesar didn’t have to sit through three rounds of ‘here comes the choo-choo train’). It felt wrong, but wasn’t that entirely the point? Sinning.

But you hadn’t expected it to feel so icky – icky being the only word appropriate for how the feeling of lording over someone as your servant made you feel a little drunk with power. And with Phantom so eager to please, running here, there and everywhere for you, you were fighting hard not to let the power go to your head.

As the morning dragged on, you became increasingly aware of the fact he was here to tend to any need you had, mulling over how he had made it abundantly clear that he was here and willing. Well, you could tell that in his eagerness to please, rushing to your side whenever you needed something and going above and beyond to make you comfortable. He was being a good little servant, and a part of you was ready to test the waters, so to speak...

“Phantom, would you do something for me?” you asked, to which his masked head snapped to you from where he sat watching daytime TV with you, and he nodded fervently. “I... could do with a bath... would you mind running one for me?”

Even behind the silver eye holes you saw enough to see his eyes widen. “S-sure, yeah... Bubbles and stuff?” he asked.

“Hmm,” you hummed, eyes fluttering closed as you imagined the warmth of aromatic waters submerging you, “please...”

When you looked, Phantom’s jaw had gone slack, and the poor Ghoul was staring intently at you. He jumped up with a startling speed with a “yes, sister!” and scurried off into your bathroom where you heard the faucets squeaking in protest and a heavy flow of water hitting the tub’s surface. You smirked a little at his enthusiasm, playing with the lace hem of your nightdress you were yet to change out of. You watched in delight as he scurried in and out of your little apartment gathering supplies you didn’t have to hand from Papa Primo’s gardens and the store cupboards near the chapel.

It took him 20 minutes before he was satisfied with the bath he’d drawn for you, stepping out of the bathroom and stopping in the doorway to announce it was ready. You began to stand, only to have him on his knees in front of you in a flash with a scream of “No! No...” and hands on your bare knees. He looked down at where his flesh had come into contact with your own and jumped back a little in shock.

“I mean, I’ll... I have to carry you.”

“Oh, of course. Silly me,” you smiled sweetly, as if this wasn’t exactly your plan – a power play. Because whether you saw it yet, or not, being waited on hand and foot, treated with respect that verged on worship was beginning to go to your head a little.

He slipped his arms under your knees, the other around your back and lifted you effortlessly bridal style, carrying you to the bathroom where he sat you on the edge of the tub. Frankly, you couldn’t believe the effort he’d gone to...

From Papa Primo’s stores, the water was filled with aromatic flowers and oils, bubbles stacked high at one end as steam rose from the surface. From the chapel’s store cupboards, the room was alight with black candles on every available surface, a soft warm glow flickering around the small room.

“I’ll um, let you... undress,” he nodded shyly as your nightgown and stood, turning his back to you and averting his gaze from the steamed mirror for good measure. But you had other ideas...

“Phantooooom,” you whined, “I don’t think I can. I’m not supposed to do anything today...”

You saw his shoulders rise and fall in a deep breath, as if he were doing his best to remain composed, before he slowly turned around and nodded. He stepped towards you, hands trembling a little, as he knelt and began to push the hem of your nightdress up your thighs slowly. He seemed to be savouring the moment a little, maybe it was just nerves, but you could see him bite his lip the higher the satin rose.

As it grazed over your hips, lifting up past your ass with a bit of a shuffle from you, you could hear the way he gulped, eyes trained on the skimpy panties you had underneath. His anguish only got worse when lifting higher, your bare breasts were exposed before him, and you raised your arms to allow him to easily remove the nightdress completely.

You smiled at him softly, waiting for him to continue and giving him the green light to do so. He exhaled a breath he’d been holding, fingers curling into the hem of your panties at your hips where he began to drag them down your thighs. He refused to look at where he’d now exposed, a blush spreading across his face that he was grateful was hidden by his mask. He felt a sense of shame for being even remotely turned on by this, but the shame was so exciting. For him, and for you...

To save him a little from combusting and leaving scorch marks on your bathroom floor, you crossed your legs in what could be considered a very seductive looking pose, and ran your fingers through the water behind you with a soft hum.

“Is...is the temperature okay?” he asked, strictly looking only at your face and your face alone.

“Perfect, thank you, Phantom,” you reached your dry hand to pinch gently and affectionately at his exposed chin. “Would you mind?”

He shook his head, again moving to roll his shirt sleeves up his arms and lifting you bridal style, gently lowering you into the water. As you sank into the water in his arms, you let a satisfied little moan slip from your lips, and felt the way his arms tensed. Now fully bathed, he stood and wiped his forearms on a towel and went to exit the room, leaving you with privacy and giving him a chance to calm down and uh... soften up.

So, when you stopped him, and asked him to sit with you because you “wanted someone to talk to”, he inwardly groaned and agreed. He was trying so desperately to avoid temptation, to only act on requests as Papa had told him to do.

“You only do the things she asks of you, Phantom. You do not try to seduce her, hai capito? (understand)? You do not make any moves. You let her come to you, if she wishes. You respect her wishes, sì?”

Of course, he’d respect your wishes. He would never do anything untoward, never push you or attempt to guide you to him. He was very much aware you held the power today and if he was being honest, he much preferred it that way.

But you were making it so hard for him to remain professional when all he wanted was to beg and plead for you to let him take care of you.

Especially when you asked him to wash you.

He found himself on his knees beside the tub, carefully and slowly scrubbing at the expanse of your chest, watching the suds wash away and the shine of the water glinting in the candlelight on your skin. It was hypnotising, and your little moans of bliss were killing him slowly, like hands squeezing the life out him by the neck.

You slipped down further into the tub, your legs bent and parting to make way for him to trail the washcloth between your thighs where a heat was blooming aside from the warmth of the water. He got the message, averting his eyes and running the washcloth over your core gently. You moaned again, this time a little louder at the pressure to where you needed it. Before he knew what he was doing, he was moaning too at the sound and the strain in his pants.

His eyes shot open and his head snapped to stare at you, hand clutching the washcloth stilling in shock and fear.

“I-I... Sister, I... I’m so sorr-” he began to apologise frantically, his hand started to retreat until you grabbed his wrist and stilled him.

“Do you want to stop?” you asked him honestly, giving him an option to back out now if he wished.

He shook his head. “I... want to please,” he admitted.

Slowly, you let go of his wrist, laying back against the tub with eyes trained on his. Gradually his hand resumed, dragging the washcloth between your legs and sending a wave of pleasure through your body. You arched your back a little, eyes closing and lips parting.

His movements remained slow, deliberate. He watched your face contort and your body writhe as the sensations built. On his knees, his own hips began to buck in search of some sort of pressure against his hidden erection. His spare hand groped and squeezed at himself, little grunts sounding every so often that made your lips quirk up into a smirk.

“D-does it... feel okay?” he asked. The poor Ghoul beside the tub was struggling, and when you opened your eyes to look at him, a pang of lust speared its way through your chest.

His lips were reddened and swollen, paint long gone from where he’d been biting at them. You could see his arm moving, but not where, and you drew your own conclusion that Phantom was in fact touching himself.

“It feels amazing...” you purred, reaching a hand out to trace the metal of his mask down to his exposed chin, fingers wet and warm with bath water. “You’re doing so good, Phantom.”

The whimper that came from the man in front of you was pathetic, but it made your walls clench around nothing. He liked that.

Only then did you realise the details of the events leading to now. He wanted to please you, to bow to your every whim. He was whimpering just at making you feel good, and when you praised him? If that whimper was anything to go by, in tandem with the way his hips bucked into his own grasp, this was a man who liked being powerless to you.

He liked being your servant.

“Will you use your fingers, Phantom? I need more...” you asked.

“Wh-whatever you need, sister...” He let go of the washcloth immediately, letting it float to the surface of the bath to be replaced by his fingers heading straight for your clit. You gasped at the contact, finally feeling the pressure you needed where he’d worked you up.

The hand on his groin grasped his hard on tightly, staving off a premature climax that would surely embarrass him.

His fingers circled your bundle of nerves with fervour, desperate to please and have you come undone. Ripples of ecstasy flowed through your body, moans and whines spilling freely from you. It was music to his ears, hearing how good he was making you feel.

“I-inside, Phantom. Please,” you begged, parting your legs as wide as you could for him. He growled, the hand on his crotch gripping the edge of the bathtub as he leaned over you, dipping his fingers through your folds before easily slipping two inside of you. You cried out, feeling full and immediately alive with electricity jolting through your veins.

You gripped onto the collar of his shirt, pulling him further over you as you writhed under him. His fingers curled and fucked into your heat, hitting where you needed him most.

“Shit, just like that...” His movements weren’t particularly gentle, but the aggression wasn’t just pure aggression, but desperation. How badly he wanted to give you the pleasure you sought...

When you looked over at him, you could see his hips bucking against nothing, hopelessly rutting into the air for any friction he could muster. From what you could see of his face, he looked wrecked. His lips were curled back over his teeth which grit together at the strain, his eyes wide and watery as if he would cry if you ever made him stop now.

You felt sorry for him, chasing a high he wouldn’t get so long as he continued to fuck into the air like this. And who were you to deny him the same pleasure he was so eager to give you?

“Ph-Phantom... look at me,” you tugged once at his collar, his eyes finding yours but hand never slowing. He could have cum just from the fucked out look on your face alone. “Will you... will you fuck me?” you asked breathlessly.

His fingers rammed into you harder at the thought and you screamed out, pulling him towards you, your forehead clashing with the forehead of his mask. You stared darkly into his eyes.

“If you want me to...” he growled, “Sathanas, tell me you want me to...” he begged.

You pushed his arm away from your cunt and sat up onto your knees before leaning over the opposite end of the bathtub and arching your back, giving him an eyeful of your exposed cunt glistening in the candlelight as the bathwater sloshed and lapped at your skin.

“Fuck me, Phantom...” you instructed. In a flash, the Ghoul stood and leapt into the tub, water and flower petals spilling over the sides and splashing to the floor. He was too far gone, too fucking desperate to even think about removing his clothes or boots and he cursed to himself when he realised what he’d done, but made no moves to rectify it – it was too late for that anyway.

Instead, he knelt and unzipped the fly of his pants, pushed his suspenders off his shoulders and pushed them down with his underwear just enough for his length to spring free. He took a deep breath, steadying himself and slowly ran the head of his cock through your folds. His free hand came to rest on your hips, gently squeezing the flesh there and stroking his thumb over the skin.

You waited patiently, letting him enjoy the moment as you relaxed in his hold, leaning lazily over the edge of the tub with your head on your arms. Slowly, he pushed himself inside you, a cracked groan leaving his throat with each inch that sank into you. Somehow, you felt warmer and wetter than the bathwater that surrounded his legs – and it felt glorious.

His thrusts began slow, savouring the feeling as whimpers and shudders shook his body behind you. He got lost in his own pleasure for a moment before remembering you were his prime concern, your pleasure more important that his own. He wanted to be good for you, for you to tell him he was being good for you again.

“Is this... oh fuck, is this okay?” he asked as he set his pace, fishing for compliments. He sounded like he was pleading with you, needily pleading for affirmations.

“So good, Phantom... Such a good boy for me, hm?”

The noise that erupted from the Ghoul behind you shocked even you, an involuntary cry that sparked him to rut his hips against you until the water around him splashed and sloshed around the pair of you, the sounds of wet skin slapping together ricocheting off the tiled walls of your bathroom. His pace was unforgiving, slamming over and over again into your g-spot and forcing cry after cry of pleasure to erupt from within you.

His hand reached around you, coming to sit between your thighs as his fingers worked your clit, his chest – still covered by his now soaked shirt – resting against your back. Coupling Phantom’s hard work with the feeling of the warmth of the water and the aromatic floral scents you felt like you’d reached a type of bliss you’d only ever read about. Your eyes fluttered shut, teeth biting into the flesh of your arm where you lay on it to quiet your moans.

Before long the heat in your abdomen grew, coil winding tightly and dangling you on the edge of climax while his cock and fingers worked so hard to tip you over. All you needed was a little bit of extra help – you needed to know what Phantom was thinking.

“H-how does it feel, sweetie?” you asked him in your most condescending voice you could muster while he pounded into you. You felt his hand on your hip squeeze your flesh hard.

“So good... you feel so good, sister.”

“You’re being so good, Phantom. My good boy, hm?” you praised.

“F-fuck, yes... your good boy. I’m... I’m your good boy,” he whined, affected by your praise more than you could have imagined.

“Are you... gonna... make me cum, sweetie?”

“Uh-huh... Yes, ma’am. Want you to cum so bad,” he admitted, “need it!” You were getting so close, that familiar feeling now right on the cusp of snapping.

“What do you say then, sweetie?” you asked, hoping he’d catch on. And in his current state, his mind bent and broken and filled with nothing but his need to push you into climax before he could, he didn’t need to think. His answer was instinctual.

“Please!” he yelled, “Please cum for me... N-need to feel you, need it... Please!”

It was all you needed to send you into a spiral, the coil snapping and springing free as your orgasm washed over you faster than the sloshing water. Your walls tightened around him, cunt squeezing him so hard it was almost impossible to keep up his pace. Your pussy gushed around him, only noticeable in the rocky water by the sheer amount of it when the waves would subside before crashing against your skin with another thrust.

Phantom lost his mind behind you, biting into his lip and doing his very best to keep up with you, fingers attacking your slit still while he slammed against you. The fog that had overtaken your mind as you came began to clear, the aftershocks powerful still with the way he continued to now chase his own release.

“Y-your turn now, sweetie,” you coached him through it, giving him the encouragement he’d need to reach his own end now you were fully satiated. When you looked back at him, he looked like he was in pain, the way his eyes were screwed shut and his teeth were bared. “Will you cum for me?”

“Fuck, can I, ma’am?” he asked, unable to look at you as he continued his thrusts.

“Yes...”

"Thank you, ma’am!” he roared, pulling his cock out from where he’d been buried inside you and jerking himself once, twice before spilling his load on the third across the swell of your ass. He fell over you, slipping from his position on his knees and relying on his arms to prop him up on the bathtub to stop him collapsing on top of you.

The two of you stayed there for a moment, panting, trying to shake off the exhaustion. The water around you both calmed, gentle waves much lower than the water level had been when he’d lowered you into it...

Eventually, you turned to lay on your back under him, letting the water cover your body but hiding nothing from him now that the bubbles had disappeared. You smiled up at him lazily, tired and satisfied.

Phantom looked up and around him, then down at his soaked clothes and softening length. He started laughing, shaking his head in disbelief at his own stupidity. You joined him, pulling at the loose suspenders still clipped to the jeans that clung to his thighs as you laughed.

Eventually he had climbed out of the tub, ringing out his clothes as best he could with them still clinging to him, and wrapped himself in a towel as he concealed himself. Without a change of clothes to hand, he’d have to remain damp.

He carried you from the tub to your bedroom, clad in a towel yourself and helped you dry off, giving you a new set of loungewear to wear that wasn’t quite as tempting as your previous outfit – there was only so much he could take in one day – and carried you back to the living room, dampening you slightly again with his clothes.

Just as he’d sat you down, there was a knock at the door. He moved to open it for you as you sat back and relaxed, revealing another two of the Ghouls in training, slightly more experienced than Phantom; Dewdrop and Swiss.

Swiss cocked his head in confusion, looking Phantom up and down as he took in the clothes that still clung to him.

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asked him, Dewdrop snickering and looking around him to wave at you. You waved back sheepishly, suddenly embarrassed that you’d have to explain... this.

“I, um... fell in the bath,” he lied, scratching the back of his neck. “Actually, it’s still kind of a mess, I should, um... clean up the water,” he said, excusing himself to go mop up the excess water from the floor and return your bathroom to a somewhat untouched state.

“Yeah, you go do that...” Swiss laughed, patting his wet shoulder as he left and stepping inside your apartment with Dewdrop close behind. “How are you, sister?”

“Uh, yeah good. Relaxed,” you smiled at him as he sat beside you, Dewdrop hovering silently still after shutting your door. From the few weeks these newer Ghouls had been at the ministry, you’d spent a little more time around Swiss. He could do a bit of everything, and you often found him in places you were during your working hours, fetching things for Secondo.

“I bet you are,” Swiss teased, looking to where the bathroom door lay open, candlelight still flickering. “Did we miss the fun?” Phantom’s head shot up from where he’d been mopping the floor and slammed the door shut with a swift kick. Swiss just laughed.

“Well, I can’t deny we’re disappointed, Sister. I had hoped maybe he’d have saved a little of you for us,” he motioned to Dewdrop with a nod of his head, “but hey, if there’s anything we can do for you, we’re here. Papa was very clear in his instructions,” he shrugged, sitting back against the couch cushions.

“Nothing right now, thanks. Just some trash TV,” you chuckled awkwardly.

“Say no more,” Swiss snapped his fingers at Dewdrop who rolled his eyes and darted into your bedroom, coming back with a blanket and spare pillow for you to cosy yourself up with. He sat on the floor between you and Swiss, back against the couch.

The day continued much like this. Phantom returned your bathroom to normality then sat himself on a chair in the corner, shy and embarrassed by Swiss’ constant teasing. You binge watched pointless shows and allowed Dewdrop to give you a foot massage, while Swiss worked some form of Black Magic in the kitchen to make the most artery-clogging, delicious ‘lazy-day extravaganza’ as he had put it. Finding yourself full of disgustingly good food and exhausted from the day, you easily drifted to sleep on the couch against Swiss’ shoulder.

Terzo had no idea what he would find when he knocked on your door that evening. Had his Ghouls done as asked? Had you wanted them to go as far as to please the Dark One and help you revel in sin past the laziness of being waited on?

He was more than willing to step in if he had to; hoped for it, even. You’d been on his mind all fucking day, elements of your afternoon in his office replaying in his mind like a roll of film stuck in a projector. He wanted you again, couldn’t think of anything else as he’d tried so damn hard to get something, anything, done today.

His knuckles rasped on your door sometime after 8pm, after his final meeting when he could finally scuttle off to find you. Dewdrop answered the door, bowing silently to his Papa and stepping aside to let him in. What he found, was Swiss laying out across the couch, Dewdrop moving to sit on the floor where he’d been all afternoon, and Phantom sat in a chair in the corner, unable to look him in the eye and shivering as if he were cold.

And... was he damp?

But you were nowhere in sight.

“Where is Sorella _____?” he asked them. Swiss, who didn’t look up from the TV in front of him, answered.

“Her bedroom, Papa. She was, uh...” he looked behind him at Phantom, who’s head hung in shame and arms crossed over his chest to make himself smaller, “quite exhausted after her bath today.” The smile on Swiss’ face – a shit-eating grin of straight lips and pearly teeth – as he looked at Papa told him enough.

“You didn't think to undress yourself first, Ghoul?” he smirked, scoffing a little. Phantom stayed silent, humiliated. “Go, change. You’re shivering, stupido (stupid [playful]).”

Phantom stood from the chair nodding, his damp jeans squeaking and sodden boots squelching and rushed past Papa in the doorway, closing the door behind him. Terzo couldn’t really blame him – he'd dive headfirst into a pit of boiling tar if it meant getting to spend another night wrapped up in you.

In fact, he found himself incredibly disappointed that he wouldn’t get to revel in sin with you today, to let you lazily use him for your own pleasures as he had hoped tonight. He had instructed his Ghouls to take care of your needs, of course, but knowing that they had stirred up a small dose of an ugly emotion in him. Still, there were plenty more opportunities to explore that pleasure with you in the coming days, and he forced himself to think nothing more on the matter.

Terzo made his way over to your bedroom door, quietly letting himself in and shutting it behind him. Your room was dark, dimly lit by a small lamp in the corner of the room. His eyes adjusted, and he saw you curled up in a ball under the covers, chest rising and falling softly as you slept. He smiled to himself, moving to sit at the edge of your bed, watching you in peace for a moment.

Quietly, he removed the glove from his right hand, using his now bare fingers to gently move a strand of hair from your face and tuck it back, wanting nothing to obstruct your pretty face from him. Despite his gentility, you stirred with a soft hum and opened your eyes.

“Papa?” you whispered, squinting at him in the darkness.

“Buonasera, Principessa, (Good evening, Princess,)” he smiled, “I trust you have done absolutely niente (nothing) all day, sì?”

You nodded sleepily, “Wasn’t allowed to walk two steps to go to the bathroom.” He chuckled at your incredulous tone – he figured someone as hard-working and self-sufficient as you would have trouble with today’s sin.

“I hear you don’t need my help this evening, either?” he teased, his hand – which you hadn’t even registered was gloveless – pushed your hair back again. You were grateful for the darkness, hiding the blush forming on your cheeks. “Phantom was still damp when I arrived. Did that idiota really jump in clothed?” he laughed softly.

You hid your face in your pillow, shy and flustered. “He was a bit excited...” you admitted, muffled by your pillow. Terzo cackled at that.

“I can’t blame him...” he shrugged. “I shall leave you to sleep then, hm? Go cross Sloth off our little list?”

You turned your head back, getting comfortable and ready to drift into sleep again. “Should I go back to work tomorrow?” you asked, stifling a yawn.

“Please. I don’t think Secondo would allow me to keep all of my limbs if you didn’t show again...” he laughed, “but would you join me for dinner tomorrow, Principessa?”

“Of course, Papa,” you agreed, already looking forward to spending more time with him.

“Bene (good). Around 7:30pm, my quarters.” He stroked your hair as your eyes drifted closed, sitting with you as the claws of sleep dug themselves firmly back into you. “Buona notte, cara mia... (Goodnight, my dear...)” he whispered.

The last thing you remembered before darkness took over, was the vague feeling of soft, pillowy lips pressing to your cheek.

Prev: Day 1 - Lust | Next: Day 3 - Gluttony

A huge thank you to @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading, and @adinferix for fine tuning the Italian translations! 🖤

Tag list:

@call-me-little-sunshine84 @thew0man @zombiesnips-blog @ghuleh-recs @popiaswife @anamelessfool @enchantedbunny @haelithra @aslutforgreyhair @togetherasone @lilylovesdew @copias-sewer-rat @copiaspet622 @deetz-ghuleh @loudwombatmugkid @nimbusghoul @portaltothevoid @adinferix @angellayercake @sodoswitchimage @siouxbauhaus @lydz1977-blog @bitchywitchygardener @sacrificialsake @the-did-i-ask @ghostfangirlsweden @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @copiasprincipessa @gothicwonderlust @ladymer @ghulehunknown @onlyhereforghost @solluna00 @nijiru

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her-satanic-wiles · 5 months ago

Text

Kinktober Day 21 - Crossdressing (Underwear/Lingerie)

Phantom x Cardinal!Reader

He keeps stealing your panties now, hoping that you’ll catch him rubbing himself with them and replay what you did last time. Now, though, you want to teach him a lesson.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist ⛧ The Cardinal Masterlist

Words: 4.3k.

Reading Time: 17 min.

Warnings: cum eating, cunnilingus, degradation, dom/sub relationship, frottage, masturbation, mentions of masturbation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, panty sniffing, PIV sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

Taglist: @akayuki56 @alien-the-ghost @amazing-bobinsky @angellayercake @anonymous-appreciation @babydestinyinfluencer @bitchywitchygardener @blossomsea @call-me-little-sunshine84 @copiaspet622 @copiasslut @cosmixxdust @da-rulah @dolceterzo @dopey-fandom-girl @faithisyours @ghoulishxdelights @hauntedharmonic-ghoulishhaunter @high-above-the-city @howlingco @inkstainedrat @kaijukimchi @kenken-the-shoggoth @ledger-kaos @magopi @megachaoticstupid @meliza1001 @miss-leto @mommy-dust @neganwifey25-blog @piaart @saintbowie @shycardinale @sister-of-sin-claudia @sisterof-sin @sodoswitchimage @the-did-i-ask @xiyingly @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

This became a bit of a habit with Phantom. On days where he was feeling particularly needy for you he’d sneak in and rub himself raw with your panties attached to both his nose and his cock, inhaling your scent as he drove himself to completion. Sometimes he wouldn’t even clean up his mess properly, and you’d find his cum all over your panties, and sometimes even staining your sheets. And though you’d have to change your sheets, you would touch yourself in them thinking about his activities and how he was so desperate for you he couldn’t wait.

But today, he wasn’t expecting to see you there, lounging on the bed with an amused smile playing on your lips. The sight of him caught in the act, your panties wrapped around his fingers and the unmistakable evidence of his need pooling at his feet, made your heart race with a mix of excitement and mischief.

“Phantom,” you purred, your voice sultry and teasing, “is this how you’ve been spending your afternoons? I should have known you couldn’t resist my scent.”

His cheeks flushed crimson, eyes wide with embarrassment as he dropped the panties, but you simply leaned back, crossing your legs and enjoying the show. “You’ve been a very naughty boy, haven’t you? Maybe it’s time I teach you a proper lesson.”

You stood up, beckoning him closer. “But first, you’re going to wear something special for me.” Reaching into your drawer, you pulled out a pink, lacy set of lingerie—something that would fit him perfectly. “Let’s see how you look in this, shall we?”

His protest was muffled by the growing desire in his gaze as he processed the command. You had him right where you wanted, and with every moment that passed, the anticipation of what was to come sent a thrill through you both.

As he slipped into the bra, the lace caressed his skin, enhancing the smoothness of his chest while accentuating the contours of his shoulders. The delicate floral design danced across his form, each curve inviting your gaze. The way it lifted and framed him was intoxicating, casting him in a softer light that contrasted with his usual ruggedness.

The panties hugged his hips tightly, the sheer fabric barely concealing his arousal, creating an enticing silhouette that made your heart race. The soft, teasing lace kissed the skin of his thighs, leaving just enough to the imagination.

His cheeks flushed a deep crimson, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal evident in his wide eyes, which glimmered with mischief. The sight of him, adorned in your lingerie, was enough to send a thrill down your spine. He looked both vulnerable and irresistibly sexy, ready to submit to your desires. The way the fabric clung to him transformed his brashness into something utterly captivating, igniting a deep hunger within you that was impossible to ignore.

With a smirk playing on your lips, you stepped closer, your voice dripping with teasing authority. “Look at you, all dressed up and desperate. I can’t believe you’ve been stealing my panties just to get off. But now, you’re going to show me how much you enjoy wearing them.”

You leaned in, a finger tracing the delicate lace on his bra. “You look absolutely stunning, darling. Now, let’s see how well you can follow instructions while wearing my things. Can you do that for me?”

With a sultry smile, you stepped back, admiring the way the fabric hugged him. “Now, let’s see just how much you enjoy wearing my lingerie,” you purred.

You moved closer again, your fingertips grazing over the lace of the bra, eliciting a shiver from him. “I want you to touch yourself for me,” you commanded, your voice low and commanding. “Show me how desperate you are, how much you crave me.”

As he obeyed, his hands moved over his body, the contrast of your delicate lingerie against his skin igniting a primal need within you. You watched him carefully, your gaze filled with desire, as he caressed his cock through the fabric of the panties, breathing heavily with each stroke.

“Good boy,” you encouraged, your voice dripping with lust. “Let yourself feel how beautiful you look like this. It’s okay to indulge in your desires.” The air thickened with tension as you reveled in the sight of him, lost in pleasure, wearing your things.

“Now, tell me how much you want me,” you urged, leaning closer, your breath brushing against his ear, igniting sparks of need. “Let me hear you beg.”

His breath hitched at your command, and he looked up at you with wide, pleading eyes. “I— I want you so much,” he stammered, his voice laced with desperation. “Please, I need you to touch me.”

A wicked smile spread across your face as you watched him squirm, the sight of him in your lingerie driving you wild. “That’s a good start, but I want more,” you replied, stepping even closer, your body almost brushing against his. “I want you to beg me to make you feel good.”

He bit his lip, his hands continuing to work over himself through the fabric. “Please, I’ll do anything,” he pleaded, his voice trembling with need. “I just want you, please touch me.”

“Anything?” you echoed, leaning in to whisper against his ear, your breath warm and tantalising. “Then you’ll have to show me just how desperate you are for me. I want to see you lose control.”

With that, you stepped back, allowing him to feel the weight of your gaze as he continued to touch himself, the tension between you electric. You watched as he writhed in pleasure, the fabric of the panties pulling tighter against his arousal, an exquisite sight that made your core throb with desire.

“Come on, Phantom,” you coaxed, your voice a sultry whisper. “Show me how much you crave me. Let go and lose yourself in the moment.”

His breath quickened as he felt the intensity of your gaze upon him, the weight of your command igniting a fire within. “I—I can’t hold back much longer,” he gasped, his fingers moving faster against the fabric, the sheer material becoming increasingly damp with his desperation.

“Good,” you replied, a wicked grin spreading across your face. “I want to see you lose control. Let it all out for me. You’re mine to play with now.”

He whimpered at your words, the urgency of his need palpable as he let himself surrender to the moment. The tension built, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily as he chased the edge, the embarrassment of wearing your lingerie mingling with the pleasure you both shared.

“Please,” he breathed again, his voice laced with a mix of desperation and yearning. “I need to feel you. I can’t hold on any longer.”

“Then come for me, Phantom,” you urged, your voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down his spine. “I want to see you come undone, to watch you lose yourself completely.”

With a final, shuddering breath, he obeyed your command, his body convulsing as he reached his climax, the sound of his moans echoing through the room. You stood mesmerised, taking in the sight of him—beautifully vulnerable and utterly consumed by his desire for you.

You watched intently as his essence seeped through the delicate lace of the panties. The white fabric, now glistening and damp, clung to him, highlighting every contour and curve. Each pulse seemed to draw the fabric tighter against his skin, the combination of your lingerie and his release creating an intoxicating sight.

The sheer lace transformed into a canvas of desire, stained with his proof of longing, as you revelled in the sight of him—beautifully exposed, vulnerable, and utterly consumed by his need for you. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered intimacy, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

You settled back against the plush bedding, the rich fabric of your cardinal robes pooling around you, inviting him into your space. As you lifted the hem, your lace panties were revealed, a tantalising contrast against your skin. You spread your legs wider, exposing the heat of your core, your own arousal evident beneath the delicate fabric.

“Come here and rub against me,” you commanded, your voice sultry and filled with longing. The invitation hung in the air, charged with anticipation.

He obeyed eagerly, inching closer until he positioned himself between your legs, his body radiating warmth. With each deliberate movement, he pressed against your clothed folds, the friction sending shivers of pleasure coursing through you. The sensation was exquisite, a heady mix of pressure and desire that built with every thrust against your panties.

You could feel the heat of him seeping through the fabric, mingling with your own arousal. “Just like that,” you encouraged, your voice thick with desire. “Feel how good it is.” The rhythm of his movements matched the racing of your heart, each push and roll against you igniting a deep, primal hunger.

As he continued to grind against you, the sound of soft fabric shifting filled the room, creating a symphony of shared pleasure. You arched your back, giving him a better angle, urging him to explore the sweet friction that lay just beneath the lace. “Don’t stop,” you gasped, losing yourself in the blissful heat that enveloped you both.

As he ground against you, a wave of heat enveloped you both, intensifying the electric connection between your bodies. The fabric of your panties became a barrier that only heightened the sensation, creating a delicious friction that left you breathless. You could feel every movement, every shift of his hips against you, as the rhythm built between you.

“Just like that,” you encouraged, your breath quickening as he pressed harder, his need for you apparent in every thrust. The pleasure coiled tightly in your core, urging you to push closer to the edge. You could sense the desperation in his movements, his own need mirrored in your heightened arousal.

“Tell me how good it feels,” you urged, a wicked smile teasing your lips. The vulnerability of the moment only fueled your desire as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“It feels amazing,” he gasped, his voice laced with urgency. “I need more. I want to feel you, to taste you.”

You loved the way he begged, the way he surrendered to his desire, and you could feel your own longing rising in response. “Then give me everything you have,” you replied, your voice dripping with need. “Don’t hold back.”

With that, you wrapped your legs around him, drawing him closer, urging him to lose himself in the moment as you both succumbed to the intoxicating dance of pleasure.

The sight of him in the delicate bra and lace panties was absolutely intoxicating. The fabric clung to his toned body, showcasing every sinewy muscle and curve, transforming him into a vision of both vulnerability and allure. The bra, adorned with intricate floral patterns, accentuated the smoothness of his skin and lifted him just right, creating a striking silhouette. It made his chest look inviting and tantalizing, and each movement sent a shiver of desire racing through you.

The panties hugged his hips snugly, their sheer material allowing a glimpse of his skin while still teasing your imagination. The way they clung to him, almost as if they were a second skin, drove you wild with want. You could see how they outlined his growing arousal, a delicious reminder of just how desperate he was for you. The combination of his natural masculinity and the femininity of the lingerie created a heady mix that was impossible to resist.

Seeing him so desperate, lost in his own pleasure, ignited a fire deep within you. Each thrust against you was a reminder of his yearning, and the sight of his flushed cheeks and wide, pleading eyes only intensified your desire. It thrilled you to see him embrace this vulnerability, surrendering completely to the moment. You couldn’t help but admire how beautiful he looked, the contrast of his usual brashness with the soft lace transforming him into someone exquisite and enticing.

You felt an overwhelming urge to explore every inch of him, to touch and taste, to make him feel just as good as he looked. The need to dominate this moment, to push him further into his desires, consumed you. “You look absolutely stunning like this,” you purred, your voice dripping with lust. “I could watch you like this forever.”

As the pleasure coursed through you, the heat of the moment enveloped both of you, intertwining your desires. With every thrust against your folds, the friction built a delicious tension that coiled tighter within you, pushing you closer to the edge. You could feel your breath quickening, each gasp of pleasure echoing in the air around you.

“Phantom,” you whispered, urging him on, “I can feel how close you are. Just a little more.” His movements became more frantic, driven by an urgent need that mirrored your own.

With a gasp, you felt your first orgasm wash over you, a wave of bliss crashing against you as pleasure radiated through your body. The sensation was electric, sending ripples of ecstasy through every nerve ending, leaving you momentarily breathless. Your moans filled the room, a symphony of shared desire.

Feeling the tightness in your core release, you looked at him just as he reached his second climax. His body tensed, a shuddering breath escaping his lips as he pressed harder against you, the lace panties soaked with both your arousal. The sight of him, lost in pleasure, his expression a mix of bliss and desperation, was almost too much to bear.

“Come for me, my sweet Phantom,” you urged, your voice thick with lust. “I want to see you lose yourself completely.”

With a final thrust, his climax hit him like a storm, his body trembling as he surrendered completely. The pleasure radiated from him, each wave leaving him breathless, and you couldn’t help but revel in the sight—his beautiful vulnerability mingled with overwhelming need, a vision that would be etched in your mind forever.

As the last waves of pleasure ebbed, you locked eyes with him, a wicked smile playing on your lips, the thrill of the moment palpable between you. “Just one more,” you breathed, pushing your panties to the side, exposing yourself completely. The action was an invitation, a challenge that set the room ablaze with anticipation.

His gaze turned intense, filled with a desperate hunger that made your pulse quicken. “Please,” he begged, his voice trembling with urgency, laced with raw need. The way he spoke, with such fervor and vulnerability, only heightened your arousal. The thought of him being so desperate to connect with you, despite the overwhelming sensations coursing through his body, was utterly intoxicating.

“Then come here and take what you want,” you encouraged, your voice sultry and commanding. You arched your back slightly, offering yourself up even more, your body craving the feel of him deep inside you. “I want to feel you completely.”

His breath hitched at your words, and you could see him fighting against the overstimulation, every muscle in his body taut with desire. Slowly, he moved closer, the heat radiating from his body enveloping you. You could feel the weight of his need, the raw passion that pulsed between you like a living thing.

When he finally positioned himself at your entrance, the anticipation felt almost unbearable. You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation, but all you found was unbridled longing. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

“Yes,” you breathed, a shiver of excitement coursing through you. “Now, please.”

With that, he pushed forward, slowly sinking into you, a deep moan escaping his lips as he filled you completely. The sensation was exquisite, the way your bodies melded together creating a perfect union of pleasure and desperation. You could feel him trembling, a mix of ecstasy and sensitivity as he tried to navigate the intoxicating flood of sensations.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, eyes half-closed, lost in the moment. You felt the pressure building again within you, the sensation of him deep inside pushing you further toward the edge.

As he filled you completely, a wave of pleasure coursed through your body, mingling with the thrill of his vulnerability. You reveled in the way he struggled to contain himself, his desperation evident in the way he trembled within you.

“Look at you,” you said, your voice dripping with condescension, a teasing smile gracing your lips. “So eager and needy, yet so pathetic. You can barely handle it, can you?”

His breath hitched at your words, and you could see the flush of embarrassment creeping across his cheeks, a mix of shame and arousal that sent a rush of satisfaction through you.

“Can’t even keep it together when you’re inside me,” you continued, relishing the effect your words had on him. “It’s adorable how you think you’re in control when you’re nothing but a desperate little plaything for me.”

He whimpered, his eyes glazed with need as he fought to keep himself from losing control too soon. “I’m trying,” he gasped, his voice filled with desperation.

“Trying?” you echoed mockingly, your hips rolling against him, urging him deeper. “You mean failing. Look at you, all dressed up in my pretty lace, begging for my touch. You’re just a toy for my amusement.”

The way you spoke, degrading yet enticing, pushed him further into a haze of lust. He whimpered again, a sound that ignited your own need, and you could feel him getting closer, even as the overstimulation threatened to overwhelm him. “Come on, sweet Phantom. Show me just how pathetic you can be.”

His whimpers echoed in the room, an intoxicating blend of pleasure and embarrassment that only fueled your desire to push him further. “That’s it,” you taunted, your voice laced with mockery. “Just let go. I know you want to. I can feel how close you are, and yet you’re still holding back like a good little boy.”

With every thrust, you coaxed him deeper, relishing in the power you held over him. “You’re such a pathetic little thing, begging to be used. Look at you, so desperate to please, and yet you can’t even handle a little bit of pleasure without turning into a mess.”

He whimpered again, eyes squeezing shut as he fought against the overwhelming sensations, his body betraying him. “I… I can’t help it,” he gasped, his voice a mixture of frustration and arousal.

“Of course you can’t,” you replied, your lips curling into a smirk. “You’re nothing without my control, are you? Just a needy little toy who gets off on being degraded.”

His breath quickened, and you could feel his resolve crumbling as he teetered on the edge. “I want to come,” he admitted, his voice thick with desire and a hint of shame.

“Then show me how much you want it,” you urged, your tone dripping with condescension. “You’ll have to beg for it, Phantom. Show me how much you crave my approval.”

His desperation deepened, and you watched with delight as he nodded fervently, ready to submit to your every demand. “Please,” he gasped, “I need it so badly. I can’t hold back anymore.”

“Good boy,” you cooed, feeling a surge of satisfaction as he finally surrendered. “Now let it all go, my precious little plaything.”

As his body shuddered with the force of his orgasm, you watched him come undone, a deep groan escaping his lips, filling the air with the evidence of his desperate need. The sight of him lost in pleasure was intoxicating, but you felt your own desire still simmering beneath the surface, tantalizingly close yet just out of reach.

“Look at you, my little plaything,” you purred, your voice teasing, laced with authority. “So needy, so messy. But I’m afraid your work isn’t done yet.” You let the words hang in the air, dripping with condescension as you felt the heat between your legs.

He glanced up at you, eyes wide with a mix of shock and eagerness, his breath quickening at the command. “Please,” he stammered, a blush creeping across his cheeks, revealing his willingness to submit further. “What do you want me to do?”

“Clean me up with that pretty tongue of yours,” you commanded, watching as he nodded obediently, the submission in his posture igniting a fire within you. As he lowered himself, positioning his mouth just where you needed him, your pulse quickened in anticipation.

“Good boy,” you praised, your voice sultry and teasing. “Now don’t waste a single drop.”

His tongue darted out, hot and eager, gliding over you with a mix of urgency and devotion. Each stroke sent shivers through your body, heightening your senses. You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him closer, guiding him to linger where you craved the most attention.

“Just like that,” you encouraged, watching him lose himself in the act, the intensity of his focus both thrilling and gratifying. “Taste every part of me. I want you to relish in it.”

His mouth was a whirlwind of sensation, each flick and swirl of his tongue working to draw you closer to the edge. The combination of his previous vulnerability and his current devotion left you breathless, each movement a reminder of your power over him.

“Don’t hold back,” you breathed, your voice a sultry whisper filled with desire. “I want to feel how much you crave me.” The connection between you deepened as he obeyed, his movements growing more fervent, more insistent, driven by an insatiable hunger to please. You could feel the tension building again within you, the exquisite sensation of being worshipped by your sweet Phantom only intensifying your need.

“Keep going,” you urged, your body arching towards him, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. “Make me feel everything.” The thrill of watching him so devotedly attend to your pleasure, all while being completely at your mercy, sent you spiralling closer to bliss.

As he continued to worship you with his tongue, the sensation sent jolts of pleasure coursing through your body, each movement igniting a fire deep within. The heat of his mouth, combined with the urgency in his actions, had you spiralling closer to the edge. You could see the determination in his eyes, a mix of desperation and desire, as he lapped at you, eagerly fulfilling your command.

“More,” you breathed, your voice thick with pleasure. “I want to feel every inch of you on me. Don’t you dare stop.”

His response was immediate, his tongue dancing over you with renewed fervour, exploring every sensitive spot, sending waves of ecstasy washing over you. You could feel your hips grinding against his mouth instinctively, the rhythm building between you as he relished in his task. The heat of his breath mixed with your own arousal, creating a heady atmosphere that made your skin tingle.

“Just imagine how good it feels to have me like this,” you whispered, leaning back to enjoy the sensation, every word laced with condescension. “You’re nothing without me, are you? Just a good little toy, desperate for a taste.”

He moaned against you, the sound vibrating through your body, adding to the pleasure coursing through you. The combination of his submission and the degradation wrapped around you like a warm blanket, fuelling your own arousal.

“Don’t you want to show me how much you need me?” you taunted, feeling your climax building with each flick of his tongue. “Make me feel good, and maybe I’ll let you come again.”

His response was almost immediate; he doubled his efforts, the urgency in his actions growing as he focused entirely on your pleasure. You could see the strain in his body, the way he fought against his own overstimulation, and it only heightened your excitement.

“Good boy,” you murmured, the words falling from your lips like a caress. “Just like that. You know what I like.”

With each movement, you felt yourself teetering on the edge, the build-up of pleasure becoming overwhelming. You wrapped your legs around his head, pulling him closer as you surrendered to the waves of ecstasy crashing over you, the world fading away until all that existed was the connection between you two.

As the pleasure surged through you, the world faded away, leaving only the exquisite sensations cascading over your body. Your climax hit like a tidal wave, crashing through every nerve ending, sending electric jolts of ecstasy radiating outward. You let out a moan that mingled with the sounds of his muffled whimpers, feeling the intensity of your release wash over you.

“Ah, yes!” you gasped, your body arching instinctively, seeking more of that delicious pleasure. “Just like that, my sweet Phantom. You make me feel so good.”

His eager tongue continued its ministrations, drawing out the last tremors of your orgasm, each stroke heightening the aftermath of bliss coursing through you. You could feel the warmth of your release mixing with the heat of his mouth, the intimacy of the moment enveloping you both in a haze of satisfaction.

As you slowly descended from the high, the reality of the moment settled in. You looked down at him, his eyes glazed with desire and satisfaction, still diligently attending to you. You couldn’t help but smile, relishing the power you held over him, both in pleasure and in degradation.

“Now,” you said, catching your breath, “I think it’s time for you to clean up your mess.”

His expression shifted, a mix of eagerness and lingering embarrassment flooding his features as he realised the task that lay ahead. But the way he smiled up at you, a glimmer of joy shining in his eyes, told you all you needed to know: he was more than willing to obey.

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