#poto imagine

[opera-ghost]

phantom of the opera + twitter

[gravedigginbbydoll]

Phantom of the Night

Phantom! Eddie x Fem! Reader Smut Blurb

AN: Hello! I am a huge POTO fan, and obsessed with men in masks. I wanted to write this for fun and for spooky season. It's a length and smut filled blurb. I'm sorry about the college of pictures not being as inclusive as I'd like (it's hard asf to find POTO aesthetic in varying body types :/ ) but promise that the description is vague and meant for anyone AFAB or feminine leaning :) (psst: this ones for my ghouls @eddies-house @xxhellfiregirlxx @ghost-proofbaby who I adore and feed my delusions lol)

Warnings: MDNI! mature themes, dubcon, vouyerism, somnophilia, mentions of exhibitionism, corruption kink, bondage, biting, oral, penetration, virginity, loss of innocence, masks, dom! Eddie, posessive, body worship, stalking and obsession, kidnapping, etc.

As a child, you had been brought up in the exquisite opera house that your town boasted of, your father taking you often to see the shows and ballets performed there. He was a violinist, a talented one at that, and had many close friends who performed at the opera. Growing up, it was just the two of you. Your mother had grown deathly ill when you were five. She passed there soon after, leaving you and your father alone. In womanhood now, you sensed that he brought you to the opera so often rather than get you a nanny to distract you with elaborate performances in order to hide your fearful loneliness that a young girl got with losing her mother. 

But now you were a woman, a member of the opera yourself in the corps de ballet, your years of training under Karen, your father’s old friend, finally coming into play. You took the job soon after your father's death when you turned 20, desperate to keep the estate he left you and not leave the home and comfort of the opera house. Besides, you loved ballet and the elegance it left you feeling, despite the pain. But it was nothing compared to your true love. Singing. Music. 

Your father had you take singing lessons as a young girl, but those lessons were now lost in years of memories. You tried to practice alone but felt off-pitch. It was disheartening. You mostly had done so as a hobby rather than a real-life pursuit of the stage, not believing yourself to be skilled enough. You kept it hidden from the rest of the troupe, embarrassed over what they would say about a grown woman attempting to learn to sing and having daydreams of the stage. 

Which is what led you to this point. You had found a few places to practice in the opera house, the building so old that there were many hidden passageways and nooks and crannies. You often tried to use these locations in order to practice. Your betrothed, Steven, constantly scolded you and claimed one day you would get lost and no one would be able to find you in the maze that was the opera house. (Steven meant well, but could sometimes be more like a mother hen.) Still, you found yourself overwhelmed by curiosity and in need to explore more and more of the building. 

You looked around, curious to see if anyone was nearby. You had found this entrance behind a mirror in a makeup room, the dark and almost damp hallway confusing you. You walked on further, the long skirts of your white gown brushing the cold stone floor, probably dirtying the edges. You held the candle you used as a light in a shaky hand, goosebumps erupting on your skin at the chill. This place reminded you of dreams you so often had involving a dark dim cave, some mysterious yet enchanting man…no, creature…whisking you away with his lulling voice and seductive tones. You felt your heart race and your thighs squeeze together at the thought. 

You were ashamed of these dark desires. You were always told that women weren’t meant to feel lust. Ballerinas were not meant to daydream about dark and haunting shadowy figures whisking them away into the night against their will. That was why you were so passive in your arranged engagement with Steven. What did it matter that you felt not a bit of swirling desire for the man if you were not meant to? He had good money and was kind and treated you well, despite your less-than-normal childhood. Maybe after the wedding, you could squash all these horrid and sinful feelings in your belly. 

While lost in thoughts, you heard a gust of wind brush by you, the sudden draft blowing out your candle. You gasped, your heart racing as you caught the sudden flash of movement by you, fear squeezing up your throat. The figure moved in a flash, clearly tall and lean. 

“Hello? Who goes there?” You called out, willing yourself to swallow down the frightful feelings in your belly. 

Nothing could be heard but the faint drip of aging pipes and the rustle of the wind in the ancient hallways. You sighed, turning back to where you came from. Perhaps Nancy was correct and you could stand to stop reading things filling your head with the idea of monsters lurking in the night. 

You laid on the gaudy chaise lounge, restless and unable to sleep. Karen, in an attempt to be motherly with you, was earlier discussing ‘wifely duties’ with you, well aware that your education on the matter was crude at best from the words you heard other girls in the corps giggle over. Or occasionally, the male singers would boast of their escapades. She filled you with this idea that women were to lay there to be for their husbands and bear children. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting more. For the past few months, you had been…exploring your own desires. You found you couldn’t sleep without it. And yet…

Tonight you were staying at the opera in an attempt to curb the dark desires in your belly. You knew nothing of a man’s touch but did not want to sully Steven with your lustful and seductive thoughts. You hoped staying in a room not your own would discourage your brain from such thoughts.

You agreed with Karen to stay in the private dressing room, despite the fluttering gasps of your peers in the corps. There were rumors of a dark figure that haunted the opera house, always causing mischief, running around and stealing props, leaving notes on the music sheets, and even occasionally harassing the singers by wrecking their rooms. You weren’t one for superstition, but felt also that perhaps the girls had a point. You had felt a presence near you often, something lingering but still there. 

Just as you did lying there. You were only in your nightgown, the fabric thin and not modest at all. You could feel a presence despite the room being empty. You stared at the ceiling, your heart racing and an even more sinful thought entering your head. 

What if you touched yourself with that presence watching? 

You felt the heat creep from your neck to the tips of your ears, clearly embarrassed despite the lack of company. The thought excited you, the heat growing between your legs and your nipples pebbling at the thought. You sighed, cursing yourself but knowing you could not rest without the feeling of release. 

You shakily grabbed at your skirt, pulling it up while turning to look at your reflection in the mirror. The mirror faced the chaise lounge. You felt a gasp escape your mouth as you looked at yourself. You looked…delectable. Absolutely depraved. Your eyes were dark with lust and your nightgown revealed most of your bare legs, part of it tugged down to reveal cleavage as your hardened nipples poked through the delicate white fabric. 

You began to rub at the wetness between your legs, mewling pathetically at the friction and staring at yourself losing control. You felt your mind go foggy, your wetness growing as your moans became more desperate. You felt your eyes flutter, feeling as if the presence was staring at you. And whether it was the small sip you had of wine earlier you had with Karen or the lust clouding your thoughts, you swore you could see a shadow within the mirror, a pair of warm and sultry brown eyes slightly visible. The sight of the shadow caused you to reveal more of yourself, feeling the need to put on a winning show. You threw your head back, pulling the nightgown down more to free your breasts to the chilly air as you rubbed at your clit more ferociously, your moans and whimpers growing in desperation. You felt the tension in the room grow as the feeling grew before the tension snapped, leaving you shattering to pieces.  

You panted as you came down from your high, letting yourself catch a breath and trying to fix your appearance. You turned towards the mirror slowly, your body heavy and worn. You saw only yourself. No warm or sultry eyes. No shadowy figure. Just you. You let your eyelids flutter as you head off to sleep, sure to dream of the dark presence once again. And just before you do…you swear you see the shadow flash across the mirror. But maybe it was just your tiredness affecting your sight. 

The second time you experienced the presence was another night sleeping at the opera house in order to assist Nancy with her duties in the morning, since her mother, Karen, had left her in charge of the duties this time around, scolding her about needing to be responsible. You were asleep, dreaming and tossing while imagining that dark presence looming over you, your lust creeping in. In the dream, the dark shadow was looming over you, kissing up and down you, as silent as possible. You watched as the shape kissed its way down, growling hungrily at your entrance. You couldn’t see much but felt, almost as if it were real, lapping at your sensitive clit. You woke dazed, lust pooling between your thighs as you tried to sit up, sure you were feeling something licking and sucking on the swollen bud between your thighs. A gloved hand clamped down on your eyes and prevented you from seeing who the culprit was, your heart racing. You smelled the familiar mix of cinnamon and orange peel, along with sharp notes of rum and ginger, a tonic you knew as familiar among the singers in the opera to keep their vocals sharp. You felt your thighs shake, and moans leaving your mouth despite your brain's conflicting thoughts. 

This is wrong. I don’t know this person. But…the pleasure…they are so skilled with their mouth…I’m so close.

You writhed, whimpering and attempting to escape the mouth to discover who was there, only to feel the other hand hold you tightly in place, a deep and fearful voice growling lowly. 

“Stop your infernal movement, little angel. I would like to worship this beautiful cunt to the best of my ability,” The masculine voice ground out in agitation, the words sending chills up your spine and desire to build to the breaking point. Worshiping you? Men in high society didn’t worship working women like you. You were lucky to even find a betrothal while most dancers were considered ‘low and loose’ women who needed to work in order to gain money. This man was odd and…so very skilled at making you unravel. 

You were drunk on the eroticism of it all. A stranger licking at you like a man starved of a month’s worth of meals, the inability to see his appearance, his demanding tone and forceful hand. You saw stars and felt your pleasure overcome you, your body shaking at your release that he seemed to slurp up, the noises so vulgar they would make a lady of the night blush. You lay there, eyes closed, catching your breath slowly. When your eyes finally fluttered open, you sat up, hoping to get to know the man behind your most recent confession in church, only to be met with silence, not a soul in the room. You felt your heart sink as you tried to fall back asleep, your mind swimming with thoughts of the mysterious voice and the warm, strong hands. It seemed the ghost of the opera might have been real after all. 

Nancy and the other girls in the corps began to notice your distracted gaze, your prolonged nights at the opera, and your skittishness, trying to catch a glimpse of the shadowy figure when people claimed he zipped past. You felt a strange obsession, a need to follow the dark shadow and discover who was consuming your dreams. 

You heard him at night occasionally, humming or singing. Or at least you thought it was him. It was a low and chilling sound. Your body thrummed with excitement anytime you thought you saw a flash of him in the rafters or heard a stair creak. You began to notice little gifts waiting for you in the dressing room, in your favorite nooks and crannies in the opera. Red roses and small notes in the messy script, usually referring to you as Little Angel. Nancy was worried about you, trying to escort you home often and getting Steven to dote on you more. But you were done. Corrupted. Filthy. And you wanted nothing more than to be in the Phantom’s embrace once more. You wanted him to explore you. Ruin you. Your mind was riddled with him day and night. 

You kept it hidden from everyone, but you often explored the ancient passageways now with the intention of finding him. Occasionally you left gifts. Your most used lipstick, a snippet of a poem, a book you had just read. You would come back to the spots to find the items gone, occasionally a rose left in their place. You felt giddy, like a schoolgirl. Your ghost…your Phantom… seemed to acknowledge you. 

If only you could catch him…

It was a few months after weeks of giddy gift exchanges and running after shadows. The notes and roses stopped. The flashes of a dark figure ended. Perhaps it was a dream. Maybe you were just a fool who imagined or dreamed of the interactions. 

On a dark night, you were aimlessly wandering the halls, singing to yourself a song you remembered your father singing. You had abandoned all hope of your dear ghost coming to capture you. Free you from a loveless marriage. You were set to marry Steven next week. Abandon the opera. Become a proper lady in society. At least Steven would not be disappointed when you laid there and bled for him, giving him a child 9 months later. You sighed to yourself, twisting your engagement ring, displeased with the thing. You wandered the underground tunnels, the candlelight dim in the dark halls. You felt your heart pick up as you heard a soft yet low voice, singing aloud. Your skin erupted in goosebumps, and your heart was racing. 

“Phantom?,” You called out sheepishly. 

The singing stopped. A deep voice coming from a direction you couldn’t discern. 

“Little Angel. What is a lamb like you doing in a dangerous place like this?” called the voice, rough and cold. Was he upset with you? You were unsure. 

You felt a tug at your heart, looking around and trying to find him. “Please, Phantom. I have only one week more at the opera. I cannot bear to not feel your touch another second,” you whimpered out. 

“Ah, so you can crawl back to that insolent boy who does not deserve your glory? My heart cannot bear the rejection, Little Angel. Leave this monster be,” He growled out, still within the shadows. 

Your heart leaped in your throat as tears entered your eyes, feeling your knees wobble as you crumbled to the ground. “Please, Phantom. I cannot bear to be without you. I do not want Steven. Forgive me, please…,” You sobbed softly, your emotions in a tangled mess. 

You heard a sigh and felt yourself get grabbed from behind swiftly, a soft yelp about to leave your throat. That familiar gloved hand snuck over your eyes. 

“Alright, Little Angel. On one condition…You mustn’t, under any circumstances, remove my mask,” He warned, his tone stern. 

You nodded wordlessly, allowing him to pick you up, dropping your lit candle onto the damp floor. The light went out, but as he picked you up in his arms, you caught a brief glance of him. He was a tall and lean figure, his hair a long and curly mess, his face halfway covered by a mask. You could see his plush pink lips and long lashes, warm and enticing brown eyes. 

He was beautiful.

You were tempted to remove the mask, curious as to why such an enticing man would haunt the opera. You refrained, however, out of respect. He tied a loose piece of fabric around your eyes, shielding your vision. 

You were enthralled and scared. 

You were laid down gently on a plush cushion and fabric, the cover softly removed from your eyes. You slowly opened your eyes in a dim and candlelit room, surrounded by aging theatrical props and the most plush velvet fabrics. You were on what appeared to be a bed, the dark figure standing before you. He wore a dark and long cloak, the hood down. His shirt underneath was a silky black shirt with a wide opening, displaying his chest. He wore dark pants and what seemed to be dress shoes. The items were all of high quality but it seemed they were at least a decade old. Upon looking up at his face, you saw he wore a white mask on half of it, his lips and half of his nose visible. His features were mostly soft, though he appeared worn from the years of seclusion and hiding. 

You reached out to touch his cheek, only to have him grip your wrists. His hands were shaking. His dark eyes were swirling with desire and sorrow. Was he shaken because he needed you so fervently? 

“You cannot touch me. I cannot bear it. If you were to touch me only to marry that…that damned fool later. My heart could not take it,” He growled out, his face twisted in sorrow and pain. 

You felt a tug at your heart, your hands aching to touch him but deciding to respect his wishes. 

“Alright.” 

He got up, running over to a pile of old props from past shows, grabbing at one, and walking over to you, grabbing at your wrists before tying them quickly to the frame of the bed. Your heart began to race as your body heated up, your skin erupting in goosebumps as you bit softly at your lips. Phantom groaned softly, looming over you, his warm brown eyes stirring desire in your belly. 

“Do not make such faces, Little Angel. You are so delicate, and I fear I will become without reason,” He groaned out, his eyes intense in their desire, his expression clear that it was hurtful to hold back. 

You could feel your back arch, his stiffening member brushing against you, causing you to whimper. “Please Phantom…Abandon reason…ravage me,” You mewled, writhing under the dark figure. 

His eyes became dark, his snarl deepening as he leaned in, his expression both terrifying and enthralling. “Be careful what you wish for, Little Angel. I am not too short of becoming a monster, devouring you.” 

You whimpered, desire pooling as your eyelashes fluttered, and your body leaned towards him. Two could play at that game. “Please…I’m frightened. R-release me, monster,” You whined, writhing under the Phantom’s dark gaze. A smirk fell upon his lips, dimples evident as the smirk broke into a villainous grin. 

“Oh, you should not have wandered into my lair, Little Angel. Now I must have you,” He growled lowly, taking his gloved hands and ripping open your corset before tearing at the chemise, the fabric pooling in shreds around you, your chest heaving in fear and excitement. 

Your body was bared save for the underpants that exposed your ever-wet entrance, your legs shutting in embarrassment. The Phantom growled, kissing at your lips with hunger and desperation, moans lost on his lips. He kissed you until you gasped for air before biting, nipping, and kissing his way down, focusing on your breasts. You pinched and sucked upon your nipples, heightening your pleasure and making you writhe more under him, whimpers echoing in the cold and dim room. He bit and marked you, his movements like that of a wild beast. 

“Ph-Phantom…Master… Devour me as you have before,” You whined out, meeting his wild brown eyes behind the mask as he looked up, snarling. 

“Beg. Beg for it,” He snarled, hands continuing their tortuous teasing on your breasts. 

“P-please… Master… Dev-devour me…I beg of y-you! I beg of you. I beg of you. I beg of you…,” You babbled, brain foggy with lust and his touch. 

He grinned devilishly, his white smile making your heart race. “As you wish, Little Angel.” 

He slowly made his way down, sure to kiss and mutter praises over you the entire time, letting you know how divine you were, leaving marks with sharp bites here and there. Finally, he reached your entrance, diving in as if it were his last supper. He flicked his tongue across your clit before sucking on it, alternating that and nibbling at your inner thighs, your body writhing like a woman possessed, your eyes rolling in pleasure. 

He truly was wicked, worshiping you beyond your wildest dreams, his words meeting your ears and deepening the carnality within you. You were gone. Lost to this bodily sin. 

“So divine. I do not deserve this beautiful cunt, these heavenly breasts, your godless moans… If this is the price I pay to become Lucifer’s lackey, I will happily pay the toll,” He babbled, fingers curling up into your entrance, his mouth still latching onto your clit. 

You felt your back arch and felt a ripple through your body. You shattered around his finger, your orgasm taking over your mind. You whimpered as he continued to touch you past your high, your nerves so sensitive you felt tears come to your eyes. He stopped short, growling lowly. 

“I’m going to condemn you, Little Angel. Fill you full of my cum. Mark you as mine and mine alone. You are my pet. My divine creature,” He snarled, his face twisted as you felt a shock of fear and lust overtake you. He could have you. You were his. 

“P-please Phantom…Pl-please,” You whimpered, lip trembling in longing as your body shook with terror. 

You suddenly felt a slow thrust into your entrance, the fullness causing a sharp pain, your head thrown back in a silent cry, eyes watering. The thrusting continued at a slow pace, the Phantom’s arms shaking as he appeared to hold back. You looked up at him, the desire growing sharper in you, your dull pain now adding to the pleasure, your legs slightly writhing. You fought against the ropes, whimpering. Phantom seemed to catch on as his brown eyes met yours, something in him snapping. He began snapping his hips at a ferocious pace, making you cry out as he continued to growl but also began to whimper and moan. 

“Such a perfect cunt. A vision. They don’t deserve you. So flawless…Cannot wait to fill your belly with my seed…Corrupt and condemn such a goddess…Ravaged by a monster…What would Steven think…?”

You moaned at the suggestion, thinking of how scandalous the situation would be. Your high was coming along a lot faster as the Phantom growled in your ear, hand at your throat while squeezing the sides and cutting off air. You felt your mind panic suddenly as you writhed but moaned louder, the lightheadedness causing immense pleasure. You were so close. 

“Oh, does my Little Angel enjoy that? Would you like to put on a show for the opera? Singing that beautiful song of pleasure?” He moaned out, his thrusts getting sloppier. 

You felt yourself climb higher and higher towards release, reaching it finally when Phantom growled in your ear making you grow with a child, making everyone know you were his. You saw stars behind your eyes, your heart bursting from your chest as you panted. The Phantom chased his own high, filling you up shortly after, making you moan softly. 

You attempted to catch your breath as the Phantom went to grab you a washcloth, wiping away at the spilling fluid. He released your wrists allowing you to rub at them. You flushed, your body limp and warm, worn out by the activity. You lay beside Phantom who held you to his chest, singing softly as you drifted off. 

You woke up once in the middle of the night, Phantom asleep. You stared at his face, only noticing how much more peaceful he looked in his sleep. You bit your lip, wondering why a man would wear a mask, even during sexual activities. Curiosity always got the better of you. You reached out softly, peeling away the mask, being careful to make sure he didn’t stir. You gasped softly at the reveal. The man's half of his face seemed to have large scars as if someone had taken a chunk of flesh in a bite, perhaps an animal. His cheeks were riddled with them, and half of the tip of his nose also with a chunk missing. 

You frowned, cocking your head. Sure he wasn’t gorgeous on that side but why was he here. He just seemed a little scarred. You softly touched the scars, the Phantom twitching at the touches in his sleep. You stop for a moment but again, only to have the mysterious man's eyes flutter open and horror and realization cross his face and he shoots up and snarls at you. 

“You broke the one rule?” He growled, his eyes dark and anger-filled. 

“I didn’t mean-” 

You felt a quick hand tie you up again, the ropes had been on his side of the bed, You tugged against them, feeling panic come up your throat as he tilted your head up, eyes gleaming with villainy. 

“From now on Angel, you belong to the Phantom of the Hawkins Opera. Edward Munson. But you may call me Master,” He growled out, his eyes swimming with possession, desire, and fury, your mouth opening to let out protests and failing to make a sound. There was no escape. No way to save yourself. You were his. 

Be careful what you wish for. 

THE END?

[gothiclov]

𝒟𝑒𝓁𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓉𝑒

(No TW just comfort)

   There he stood across the room not really grasping why you so suddenly came to him without uttering a word even in response to his own, that is until he saw the look in your eyes. His gaze soften upon seeing your melancholy expression, the way your head hung low, and your hands dejectedly falling at your sides. Initially, he was worried he had upset you but upon observing you he knew it wasn’t that, you had something much more pressing going on. Although he couldn’t quite read exactly what was causing you such distress he just knew the emotions you had felt by one look at the way you carried yourself. You hadn’t dared to meet his stare knowing that if you did so everything would come crashing down at once, and the weight of the burden you were carrying would become too much for you to bare. You refused to let the pools that were building in your eyes overflow in front of him. He noticed you holding back, it slightly pained him as he would never want you to feel the need to put up a front around him. He slowly made his way towards you, his eyes fixated on your gloomy expression. Although Erik wasn’t one to typically initiate large amounts of physical affection in the relationship as you both were still fairly new to this however at this moment none of that mattered. All that matters is that you’re in front of him in need of his soft touch and protective grasp. He slowly reached for your hand taking it into his own then lifting it softly to his lips all the while maintaining eye contact with you even if you tried looking away. The way you so helplessly stared at him absolutely broke his heart, he knew you struggled with so many things all at once but to see how truly distraught you are in this moment made it all more real. He stared softly before gently wrapping his arms around you his right hand subconsciously guiding itself to the back of your head to pull you into his embrace, and the other slowly running up and down your back.

“Everything is okay now, I promise you my love I’m here.” He spoke so softly and delicately while running his hand down the back of your head. This was enough to set you over the edge, tears falling rampant from your now reddened cheeks as you raised your hands to grasp the material of his shirt from his chest your other hand grasping the back.

“I’ll protect you I promise, share your burden with me Angel don’t hold back it’s only me.” His voice was so soothing to the burning of your heart, he was so genuine and was happy to comfort you the way you have with him. His delicate words and voice caused you to bury your face into his neck just so you could feel more surrounded by his protective presence. Recalling everything that had caused you to be this way your shoulders shook as you now audibly sobbed into him. It was so much emotion at once, the overwhelming feeling of affection you’re getting from Erik, the sadness you held in your heart, and your gratitude for finally having someone to genuinely try to soothe the wounds of your heart. 

Upon hearing your audible sobs he softly shushes you while pulling your body impossibly closer to his own. 

“When you’re ready tell me what’s going on but for now I’ll just hold onto you until you’ve calmed.” He softly reassured leaving gentle kisses on the side of your head and the tip of your ear. Although you didn’t tell him what was on your mind that night he still stuck beside you and held onto you giving comforting words here and there without forcing anything out of you. He simply stuck by your side the entire night until you fell asleep in his embrace once he had taken you to lie down, your face still buried into the side of his neck while he held you with both arms. Although it was a simple gesture it was truly all you needed and he understood that happily caring for the person he loved more than absolutely anything.

[apocalypse-shuffle]

THE PHANTOM | ERIK (multi iteration)

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“An Amati to be Worshipped” (Erik Destler |The Phantom of the Opera x Fem!Reader)

| Erik just can’t keep that mysterious demeanor about him when it comes to you. Or his temper. Or his lust.

| NSFW, 18+, minors dni, violinist!reader, (TW: stalker!erik, non con voyeurism, masturbation) questionable history/depictions of 1800’s French culture (I tried)

| picture source: shots from Ben Crawford & Emilie Kouatchou’s run as The Phantom & Christine on broadway

| 1k+ words

In one word Erik was miserable.

His truest obsession, his sweet violinist, was out sick and as such he didn’t get to peer down upon her from box five as she drew those elegant fingers across her bow and string.

He missed her sun worshipped skin like a starving man missed food. She stood out like the brightest star from the pit. Playing her violin like it came as easy as breathing, much in the way Erik himself played his many well versed instruments.

Watching the performance earlier that night had been truly disappointing. Not even Christine’s voice could make up for the lack of the melodic rises and falls that came from his violinist’s strings. It was a clear missing puzzle piece in the whole show. One that irked him down to his soul and made him vow to gut the hapless fool in your place while you recovered.

And he wanted to curse that too.

The newest stage hand had forgone cleaning up the stage after pre-rehearsal a few days ago and you, his greatest muse, had slipped and fallen.

Your decent from the stage to the pit had almost made him reveal himself from his elevated position in the rafts. You’d dropped so abruptly, so thoroughly, that you’d screamed. A wretched sound forced from your mouth that had made even Erik gasp and want to reach for your fallen form.

Erik himself, with that fear and fury still thriving through his very spirit, had only just come from doing what he promised when he saw the tears tracking down your face. He’d gutted DuBoi within an inch of his life, the worm wasn’t worth being taken to his torture chamber, and left him to rest for his remaining hours as he chocked on his own tongue.

He stomped through his passage ways now, in search of you of course. After avenging your ails he was near giddy to get back to what he’d taken up doing since your most unfortunate injury.

He rounded the narrow corner to your bed chambers in the sick bay and hummed lightly as his eyes finally lay upon your form.

You were exquisite.

He could watch you for hours, and did. With the opera house quieting down after the night’s lackluster show and Christine not being due for a lesson, his presence was not needed anywhere else as twilight descended.

You mostly read, books from Senegal that were in a French dialect he was too unfamiliar with to read easily, and worked on your music. That was always his favorite part of the night.

Whenever everyone retired to their shared quarters you would sneak off, usually to the roof, lean against the Angel statue and pull out your beaten pieces of sheet music to write on. You’d hand draw the measure lines with steady hands and the finest ink you owned and then you’d be off.

Many a night Erik had watched as you embarked on the painstaking, and very familiar, process of writing your own music. You wrote, playing on your violin to check your song, until your eyes started to droop and the sun began to peak in the horizon.

You’d cringe, sigh, laugh and celebrate on the roof at your melodies, good and bad, and Erik would watch and wish to celebrate alongside you. To help guide you into finding your musical voice. To embrace you in your combined cheer.

He longed like no other to feel the touch of another. Of companionship.

There’d been many nights that he’d fantasized of stealing you away. As far as he was concerned the light of mundane people didn’t deserve to be blessed by your darkness. A darkness that he’d cherish. That he’d compliment, even.

Your songs weren’t amazing by any measure, you were clearly a beginner, but they were yours and he lived to hear you.

He’d read you music, even hummed your baby masterpiece in his free time. Tweaked little bits and sung it to you until the subtle change in tune got stuck in your head and you’d put the tweaks to paper. Even twisting them again yourself to fit your song more preferably. He always liked your changes immensely, and was honored that you mixed parts of him into that bit of your soul.

You were doing that tonight, in fact. Last night he played a new idea on his own violin. Behind the walls as you’d slept he’d had the pleasure of serenading you and now that his melody had sneaked into your subconscious mind you were writing away.

Erik closed his eyes as you began to play. Even bedridden without an audience, and your own choppy tune being strung together, you were amazing.

He listens to you for hours. Ear practically up against the wall Erik stays up and then subsequently falls asleep with you.

When he wakes he can tell the sun hasn’t risen yet by the dead silence that meets him but he knows you’re asleep. When he rises from his seated position in the cramped pathway and looks through the peephole to the sick room he confirms his guess. The area is still lit but you yourself are passed out, having seemingly been in the midst of playing until the moon’s siren song pulled you under.

He watches you silently. Eyes tracing your figure. Your dark skin just about twinkles under the harsh lights. The yellow lighting of the gas lamp doesn’t do you justice and yet somehow you manage to enrapture him still.

Your shut eyes flutter as he looks upon you. A smile graces his lips; you're enchanting. He wants to be able to speak with you. To mark the creases of your smile up close. To trust you with the secrets of why he hides in the shadows. To feel what it'd be like to have and to hold you.

To feel you succumb to him.

Completely.

He can’t help it. Almost against his wishes his mind turns to thoughts of you beneath him. To the way your skin would yield to his hands and his to yours.

To the arch of your bodies pressed together and the sounds he would siphon from your plush lips.

It makes him squirm in place as he watches you with different eyes. Sinful ones.

His eyes travel down your body and instantly Erik knows how he’s going to spend the rest of the opera’s still hours. You’re allure too strong and Erik too weak for you.

Unable to tear his eyes away from your breasts, Erik can only desire the pleasure of the flesh having his sweet violinist would bring. Your satisfaction has long been made a priority of his after all. It would only make sense for him to satisfy your more…sexual needs.

Even though he could only dream of it currently.

He imagines himself in there now. How he’d start by putting his hand to your cheek, the first touch of another’s skin he’d have in decades. He closes his eyes as his breath stutters out of him.

He would challenge the very God Christine prays to every night, a fool's errand perhaps -but one he would happily embark on, for the chance to see the stark contrast of his skin against yours.

Once more he opens his eyes to gaze upon you. He imagines after he touches your cheek he’d let his fingers trace down your throat and sternum before pausing just above your breasts. Trembling slightly, Erik thinks of caressing and cupping them, of running his thumbs over your dusk nipples. Marveling at how lovely they felt in his hands. Of the gentle sounds you’d give him in return.

Not letting himself think, he lets his hands travel over his own body, cape falling to the floor as he unclips it. He pictures leaning down, putting his lips around your right nipple, and beginning to circle it with his tongue while gently pinching the left one.

He imagines the way your eyes would flutter as he stimulates you with his mouth. Tongue gently sweeping over the stiff peaks of your nipples as you sighed your satisfaction.

Thereafter is when he allows himself to fully succumb to his rampant imagination. All his dreams of whimsy coming through in his mind's eye.

He thinks of you waking up, of skilled dark fingers moving to gently lift his head up, of the smile you’d give him.

“Was last night not enough? Have you come back for more?”

“Whatever you will give me.” Erik sends his own smile back. An action his face is largely unused to but that he is happy to make happen for you.

Your fingers run over the top of his head, through the few skant hairs there.

“Then give me your full devotion,” you say and Erik’s heart sours before he’s going back to your chest.

He says, "With pleasure," and lightly bites your nipple, pleased to feel you shudder.

He’s had the pleasure of learning recently that you were extremely responsive to touch and by god does he wish to apply that knowledge.

Erik then allows himself to fully be given to conjured images of you giving way beneath him. To him delving between your folds and the heavenly noises you make for him.

The thought of you crying out his name is what finally has him spurting into his hands, stuttering gasps falling from his mouth.

When Erik next opens his eyes, the scene of you so beautifully coming undone seared behind his lids, there are tears stuck to his lashes and pooling in his eyes.

His breath hiccups from his chest as he relaxes his hold on his cock. The spent organ flopping onto his thigh.

Erik allows himself to gaze upon you once more, something near shame threatening to claw through him as a few droplets cascade down his cheek, before the morning settles and he is once again back to the reality of being known no longer.

A monster forever bound to his faith hidden in the looming loneliness of shadows as his only company.

Its only shining light being you.

NOTES: Ohhhhhhhh. I hope y’all liked this. I just live for Erik being a needy pathetic simp.

P.S: I won’t respond cause this is a side blog but I do like comments, you can leave one.

[hyperesthesias]

erik meeting frollo, initially bonding over the women they want but cant have. the entire interaction ends with erik horrified and telling him 'you need GOD'

[birdstooth]

Piangi’s vocal coach in the audience before the unmasking scene like, “omg my guy really got it together for the final act, hitting all the notes and everything!! So beautiful 😭 I knew he could do it, our hard work paid off” 🥹🥹

[dervampireprince]

ASMR | Phantom of the Opera - Erik x Listener SFW Returning To Your Phantom of the Opera

[M4A] [Part 3] [Reverse comfort] [Discussion of past kidnapping, self-hatred] [Listener is taking the place of Christine] [Kisses]

It's been a long time but he's back, or rather, you're back! You came back!

.

Custom audio commissions are open! Full public spicy audios on sound gasm (link in pinned post). 2 Exclusive spicy audios on Patreon every month. I also stream on Twitch every week @ dervampireprince . [minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.] [do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]

[exhausted-undead]

okay, so it's still cool to do mermay drawings right??? right??? also warning for fish titties

[early2000smovieimagines]

Meeting and Courting Erik

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- The worst thing about being a female musician is that; unless you have a lineage to ride the coattails of, you’re oftentimes not taken seriously. The orchestra is reserved for lithe men with bushy moustaches and three piece suits and little girls are lucky to be ballerinas or background actresses; if anything at all. 

- But you always held onto the hope that you’d get your chance, and that hope payed off when the owner of the Opera Populaire stumbled across your playing and invited you out to the city of Paris so that you could work in his Orchestra. 

- You were over the moon once you’d heard the news and had to pinch yourself in order to ensure that you weren’t dreaming. It all seemed too good to be true …and oh how true that statement would wind up being....

- Once you arrived at the theater, it took all of three minutes for you to realize that you weren’t going to be anything there besides a glorified maid. But, thinking you could at least study under the greats and have a foot in the door; no matter how painful, you decided to bite the bullet and stay. 

- During the day, you ran around in circles like a chicken with it’s head cut off: meticulously tending to every wish and whim of the composer and his musical associates. But during the night, once all your chores were finished and forgotten, you were able to marvel at the beauty of the theater and practice your playing; whether in the pit or just in the privacy of the broom closet you called a bedroom. 

- That was where Erik first came across you. 

- About a month into your stay; once you’d finally managed to get settled in and form a routine in which you weren’t too exhausted to practice, you found yourself sat in one of the chairs in the orchestra pit, following along to the music you’d just about memorized from the sheer amount of times you’d listened to it being played. 

- The music carried faintly throughout the entire theater until it reached the phantoms ears, drawing him closer and closer until he’d finally reached you; his heart skipping a beat once his eyes landed on your figure amongst the sea of velvet seats. 

- Thus marked the beginning of his obsession; though it would still take a bit of time for him to make his physical approach....

- Though him not revealing himself to you didn’t mean that you didn't feel his presence nearby. You’d oftentimes see shadows or figures just out of view or feel the skin prickling sensation of someone's eyes on you while you went about your day; especially while you were alone. 

- Those sorts things were easy to dismiss, feeling things was always easy to dismiss, …but tangible proof was another thing entirely. Your broken strings being replaced in the night or your instrument being perfectly tuned every morning was not nearly as easy to ignore. And with talk of the opera ghost buzzing all around you, you had a funny feeling that you knew exactly who was doing it....

- Teaching someone how to play an instrument requires a certain level of physicality so you won’t have to wait very long for “Erik” to show up in your life. He can’t guide you with only his voice, especially if he wants you to excel, so he introduces himself; though he doesn’t let you know who he is. 

- There’s hundreds of eccentric faces in the opera house so while seeing him in the flesh is a bit jarring, you don’t immediately suspect that he’s the fabled phantom. He comes to you as a friend, a gentleman who compliments your playing yet offers you guidance, promising that you’ll “be great” if you’ll just allow him to be your teacher. …And you eagerly accept, trusting him blindly....

- At first, he coaches you with a delicate reserve: circling the room as he instructs you with his voice and restraining himself whenever he corrects you with his fingers. But after your manager walks in on your much more perfected playing; ignoring your attempts to tell him about your teacher who’s suddenly vanished and left you alone in the room you were practicing in, he becomes much more intimate with you; under the guise of needing to guide you more closely if you’re going to be in a real orchestra. 

- Your practice sessions move to his lair where he takes you up in his arms and presses himself close to you, his hands moving across your body as he instructs you to “feel the music” and other innocent things turned seductive by his tone. Somedays, after the song ends and you realize the state you’re in, you grow embarrassed and detangle yourself from him, wanting to save face after realizing how improper all of it had been; your heart still racing as you make an excuse to leave....

- It isn’t long before the “opera ghost” begins to take a liking to you, writing letters to the owners of the theater and making demands about how they should be treating you. 

- As the owners resist, your competition is sabotaged until they have no choice but to favor you, pushing you to stardom as you try your best to hide the black ribbon tied rose that’s found its way into your instrument case; the beating of your own heart drowning out the hushed “phantom” filled whispers that surround you. 

- Perhaps this is unnecessary to add in but there are definitely moments prior to you getting into a relationship with Erik that the opera ghost humiliates a man who’s dared to flirt with you; calling him a pervert and other things of the sort through one of his infamous notes. 

- There’s also probably a moment where his mask gets caught in your hair and is pulled from his face, causing him to lurch away from you as if he was burned. You’ll move to see what’s wrong and he’ll yell at you to stay where you are, prompting you to stiffen and whip your head back to the other side of the room; swiftly apologizing and feeling as though you’ve somehow done something terribly improper.

- He’ll snatch his mask back and quickly place it back onto his face before he turns to look at you again; seeing that you’ve obeyed his command and continued to stay still. His heart will swell at how respectful you are and he’ll quietly tell you that you can turn back around; apologizing himself as he swallows down his jumbled nerves. 

- Regardless of these moments, Erik confesses his feelings to you during the night of your first shows final performance. 

- You don’t see him until late in the evening when you arrive at his lair: expecting to celebrate or at least be met with a bit of praise from your teacher. But that isn’t the case and you grow worried at his quiet demeanor and seemingly distracted mannerisms before you ask what’s wrong and get your answer. 

- He sits you down while he clutches something in his hand, telling you that before you begin again, he must ask you “this”. He extends his hand and shows you a diamond ring, his voice trembling faintly as he looks you in your eyes and asks if you’ll “be his”. 

- His proposal isn’t unexpected but it does surprise you. You’re aware of the romance between you but you hadn’t expected something so soon so you’re left to fumble for the right thing to say. Finally, you blink back your joyful tears and tell him “I’m yours”, smiling up at him while he processes what you’ve said. 

- For the first time since you’ve met him, you see him truly smile, his eyes misting as he slips the ring onto your finger. He gazes down at your newly bejeweled hand before placing his own gloved one on your cheek, leaning down to connect your lips in a delicate and loving kiss. 

- And thus begins your fate, an eternity of him before your eyes....

- Public displays of affection; for obvious reasons, aren’t very common in your relationship but if they were, he’d be prone to acting like a perfect gentleman: being polite but purposeful in his touches and mimicking the mannerisms of a man from high society. Jealousy may make him a bit touchier but your unwavering adoration would typically placate him; your obvious favoritism filling him with a smug sense of pleasure. 

- He oftentimes moves to hold your hand whenever you’re together; whether he’s leading you somewhere or just sitting down with you, but his touch is so delicate that you oftentimes feel the lingering sensation of his grasp even after he’s removed himself from you. 

- Gentle caresses. He treats you as if you’re vapor: in constant danger of fading away, should he touch you too quickly or too brashly. 

- Hugging you from behind is one of his favorite things to do; his hands stroking across your body as his face nuzzles into your hair. It doesn’t matter what the circumstance of his touch is, he’ll always find a reason to press himself against you. 

- Sometimes his kisses are rough: domineering and searing with passion; oftentimes from a bout of jealousy or far too much time spent away from each other. But other times they’re gentle and sweet: his movements featherlight and filled with a joyful sort of love that he reserves only for you. 

- Erik loves pet names; both giving and receiving. He loves the intimacy that they provide: knowing that he’s the only one calling you those things and that you love him enough to want to call him something so tender. Expect a lot of theater or art references and things like “my angel” or “my darling”; they’re his favorite terms of endearment. 

- It takes a while for Erik to grow accustomed to having you; though it’s in a positive and content sort of way. He cherishes the time he spends with you; as if it isn’t going to last, which is why he has a habit of watching you sleep; marveling at your beauty like you’re a priceless work of art. 

- Looking at you; in general, is a pretty common habit of his. He finally has the chance to study your features up close and he’s not going to waste a second of it. No matter how long you’ve been together, he never gets tired of seeing your face. 

- But, when he isn’t sitting up on his elbow and gazing at you, he’s cradling you in his arms: your face in his chest, his arm under your neck and his hand holding your hip/waist.

- Touch starved is the only way to describe him. Any affection you give him is received with the melting of his body and the fluttering of his eyes. He relaxes instantly at your touch and aches to have it whenever you’re near. 

- It’s why you should place his head in your lap, cushioning him with the frills of your dress and the plump flesh of your thighs as your hand strokes lovingly through his hair. It’s the least he deserves. 

- Speaking of the frills of your dress: he occasionally dresses you up the same way you would a doll, placing you in glamorous gowns and gently styling your hair. Once he’s done, your reflection gazes back at you in the form of an angel and his a man of god; ready to pray at your alter and worship you for as long as he lives. 

“You spoil me.”

“There’s no such thing.”

- He does everything in his power to ensure that you’re happy and provided for, and that oftentimes means that his monthly allowance is; at least partially, spent on gifts. You can try to insist that he doesn’t have to buy you things but the most effective thing you can do is combat his buying with buying of your very own. 

- Purchase him books to occupy himself with or food for the two of you to share and the expense he spends on you will feel at least somewhat repaid. And you’ll get to see his somewhat surprised yet fond smile whenever you hand them to him. 

- But, regardless of everything else he gives you, his music is his greatest gift of all and his sharing of it should not be underemphasized. His work is very personal to him so you being allowed to hear and see it proves just how much he trusts you and loves you. In giving you his music, he gives you his heart so treat it with the utmost care and respect. 

- Having him sing for you and being urged to sing for him as well. You don’t even have to be a good singer: he’ll either coach you himself or bask in the earnestness of your clumsy vocals; enjoying how sweet and intimate they sound. 

- Considering the fact that the entire beginning of your relationship revolved around you playing an instrument, one could imagine that he’d occasionally ask you to play: whether it’s just to listen to you perform or if it’s him enlisting your help while trying to come up with the different instrumental portions of a new musical. 

- He’s; obviously, more of an organ man himself, and you’ll oftentimes get the chance to listen to him play: though he’ll sometimes play in order to let off a little steam so try and gauge whether he’s hitting those keys a little too hard. You might need to give him a hug or implore him to vent to you. 

- But, if you’re not someone who’s musically inclined, you’d still have a seat beside him in box 5 and the ability to appreciate his art through the theater troupes impressive performance of it. 

- It wouldn’t take you long to pick up on little pieces of theater lingo and the first time he heard you nonchalantly show your knowledge, he couldn’t help but smile. He thought it was adorable; regardless of whether or not you actually knew precisely what you were talking about. 

- Marveling at his miniatures and the other creations he has hidden away in his lair.

- Exploring the ins and outs of his domain, oftentimes; if not always, with him as your attentive guide. 

- You always feel as though you’re in a dream when you’re with him and it’s one that you pray you’ll never wake up from. It’s wonderful and overwhelming all at the same time and there’s not a single thing inside it that you’d ever wish to change. 

- Though he’ll always have a flair for the dramatics, he’ll also begin to let his guard down and act more like himself the longer you’re together. He’ll feel less of a need to appear over the top and mysterious in order to draw you in and make you love him; allowing you to see the real him.

- Although, even when he’s dropped his act, he’ll still find it difficult to let you see him without his mask. He’ll hurriedly cover his face whenever it manages to come off and he’ll insist that he’s a monster and that you won’t want to see him no matter how much you try to assure him that you’ll still love him: so you just try your best to be patient and wait until he’s comfortable enough to show you himself. 

- Comforting him and letting him know that there’s nothing he can do that would ever make you abandon him. Sometimes he’ll dream that you’ve left him for good and you’ll wake to find him pacing or clutching you as close to him as possible, and you’ll just give him a quiet “I love you” to ease his nerves and let him know how much you care. 

- There’s going to be a lot of working through trauma but he’s definitely someone who’s worth it. He’s not a perfect person but he’s willing to get better in order to make you happy and that’s all that really matters. 

- Quiet companionship. He likes being in the same room as you even when he’s busy with his own work so you’ll oftentimes find your own thing to do while you stay down there with him. 

- Sitting in forgotten corners and up in the rafters with him: watching as the sun sets or the people around you go about their day. 

- Dancing together. You’ve probably taken him to a masquerade ball and it’s a memory he holds very close to his heart. 

- Imagining him cooped up in the theater day in and day out tends to upset you so you try your best to sneak him out from time to time; even if it’s just for a measly little picnic in the cemetery or forest. 

- Him appearing out of nowhere because he knows all the little ways to get in and out of the rooms you’re in without being caught. You’ve grown so accustomed to his sudden invasions that you’re probably one of the easiest individuals to kidnap; considering the fact that you merely sigh contentedly every time someone touches you whenever you think you’re alone. 

- Always sensing that he’s near, even when you can’t see him. He’s almost always watching you and it’s sort of comforting in a way: knowing that you’re not alone; even when you’re as nervous or scared as can be. 

- But him watching you also means that you can never hide something from him; even if it’s just an innocent surprise. He’ll pretend to be shocked for your sake but you’ll never actually manage to do so organically. At least he’ll always know when he needs to comfort you without you having to explain what happened. 

- Him always being there for and taking care of you. He enjoys looking after you and making sure that you’re healthy and happy so expect him to do whatever he can to have you stay that way. 

- Please give him praise. He’s used to insults and mockery and being known as a menace or a freak so compliments coming from you; the person he loves the most, will mean the world to him. 

- You’re the only one who’s capable of calming him down with just a single word or touch. He’s a sucker for you and his anger fades the moment you go soft on him. 

- This is arguably stupid but I think Erik deserves to have a pet cat and I think you should be the one to give it to him. They can keep him company whenever you’re not around and they can also help with the rat infestation: they’re a multipurpose friend! 

- Madame Giry routing for your relationship to work out and doing everything in her power to help the two of you whenever it was necessary. She’s your biggest ally in the garish light of day.

- I feel like he would occasionally disappear for days at a time; particularly before the two of you started courting each other, and then suddenly speak to you from his usual hiding place; taking you by surprise. You’d ask who was there and he’d somewhat teasingly ask if you’ve forgotten your angel; bringing a smile to your face as he shows himself to you once more. 

- It’s probably fairly obvious by now but Erik is definitely a possessive lover; especially since your relationship is so secretive and hidden away from the outside world. He relishes in you “belonging” to him but it’s only because he belongs to you just as much, if not more. 

- He’ll oftentimes sabotage situations in order to keep you all to himself: though they’re oftentimes things you aren’t necessarily excited for or replaced with such a wonderful scenarios that you don’t even mind nor notice that you’ve missed them until it’s too late. 

- Erik is, at his core, a very jealous person, but how he reacts to his jealousy will oftentimes depend on the situation at hand and how you behave in response to it. If you show no interest in the man, the phantom will react in a much more civilized manner: writing a pointed note or making an anonymous threat; focusing more on how annoying it must be for you to deal with as opposed to the way it makes him feel. But, if you appear to actually like the person, things won’t end nearly as neatly....

- It’s honestly best not to mention it whenever someone insults or otherwise makes you feel uncomfortable because; before you know it, your lover will have taken it to the extreme and dealt with the situation in an oftentimes less than desirable way. 

- He’s willing to do everything in his power to ensure that you’re safe and killing someone in order to achieve that tranquility will not be out of the ordinary for him. Be sure to insist that you don’t want someone dead whenever something winds up happening to you; though I can’t guarantee that that clarification will stop him from at least imposing some sort of damage onto them. 

- Erik has a bit of a temper so; even though he genuinely hates getting into arguments with you, fights still break out between you every now and again; usually prompted by some sort of outside force or his own insecurities. He has a tendency to snap whenever he’s upset so don’t be surprised if he lashes out at you: raising his voice and/or saying something cruel in the heat of the moment. 

- You’ll resign yourself to giving him space; or storm out in your own fit of anger, and you’ll keep away from him for a while: going about your business like usual and ignoring how awful you feel. 

- Typically, if you want to make up with him, you’ll have to seek him out yourself: journeying back into his domain and finding him in varying states of agony. He’ll be taken aback by your sudden appearance; thinking that you staying away from him meant that you hated him or that your pride was too strong. But his momentary surprise won’t stop him from almost immediately latching onto you and apologizing as he whispers about how he thought you’d left him forever; effectively breaking down any resolve you had left in you.

- Erik’s love for you drips from his every pore so even if he didn’t say the words everyday, you’d still know exactly how much he cared for you just from his actions alone. 

- No matter how much time passes nor how long you’ve been apart, his love for you remains just as strong as it was the first time he saw you and he’ll prove that to you everyday that you spend together for the rest of your lives. 

[elfwoodfae]

I want to write for the phantom and I want to write like now ahahah if anyone has any ideas you can let me know and send asks or send ideas because I’m dry and high but obsessed, smut is an option too 🖤

[opera-ghost]

“I was always trying to make it my own and essentially would do what I liked until I was told not to; I danced with the mannequin in the final lair for a good two weeks until I was told to stop.” - ben crawford

[roosterbox]

That feeling when you see a Phantom of the Opera post in the Cherik tag

[marleneoftheopera]

you really never leave phantom

[dearest-darlingest]

this photo is so funny to me without context

📸 @CerisDonovan on Twitter/X

[garnet-xx-rose]

It seems that lanky Leroux Erik and Gerard’s Greek God figure Erik are the most popular ones used in fan content.

But I would like to open your mind to the thickness of Musical Erik. Not skinny, not shredded. But He’s a big, strong boy. Got nice broad shoulders. He’s a teddy bear. He knows how to cook a hearty meal. He gives great hugs.

[littleeliza-lotte]

Holy FUCK