Honestly A Catboy Feitan Is Not Something I Knew I Needed But Now I Just Want More~

Honestly a Catboy Feitan is not something I knew I needed but now I just want more~

His Obedient Pet

A Catboy Feitan x Reader

Warnings: Dubcon, Hybrid Feitan, Cruel treatment of the reader.

Description: Your hybrid proves once again just how unruly he can be.

All you really wanted to do was collapse into your fluffy black bed covers and take a blissful nap. Work had a way of draining every last drop of energy you had in your body, leaving no room for your own hobbies or activities. Asking for shorter hours wasn’t really an option, as you needed all the money you got from your job and raises were far and few between. Your life had shrunk in a massive way ever since moving out of your parents house with you quickly realizing just how much you had really relied on them. They lived too far away to really help you out with anything you needed and you refused to call them just to ask for money. You were alone in the world now or at least almost alone.

You entered your small shitty apartment, tossing your bag that contained your work clothes onto the floor near the front entrance that leads into the kitchen. The apartment was tiny with only three rooms, a bathroom, a bedroom, and the kitchen. The kitchen and bedroom were barely separated by a curtain you had placed over the doorway to make it feel a little more closed off.

Exhaustion didn't even begin to describe how you were feeling, but you knew better than to think you could just call it a day and hop into bed. You were the owner of a sweet little cat after all, and you would have to make up for being away all day.

“Fei!” You called out into your small apartment, slowly pulling off your jacket to hang it up onto the wall. You felt bad leaving him here every day with nothing to do and you promised him that things would get better, but he didn’t care for your excuses. He showed you just how annoyed he was by knocking your things over while you were gone and tearing at your curtain, but he had never been a nice cat.

You remember when your mother got him for you when you were young, growing up with him was like having a personal bully following you around. Especially when he was young, he would mock and bother you, pulling at your hair and taking your things. Even as a kitten, he was stronger than you and when you tried to get a trainer, he flipped out, not wanting to be near other people. He only got worse as the two of you grew up, while you could manage your hormones to the best of your abilities, cat hybrids were not able to cope so well with their coming of age. That’s when he began to destroy stuff out of stress and anger, stealing your clothing and hiding it from you, only to find it ripped up and stuffed in some hidden corner of the house. Your mother had brought up sending him away to a training school while he finished growing and as much as that idea hurt you, you knew it was for the best. Both you and Feitan were suffering due to his lack of control and it would only be a matter of time till something bad happened if he wasn’t taken away for a while.

A few years went past and on your nineteenth birthday, your parents brought up the idea of having Feitan come back home to be with you again. There was the small worry that he would still be a bit chaotic since he didn’t get the same amount of time in the training center as usual cat hybrids did, but he was almost fully grown by now and really at his age, should have been home with his family. You were ecstatic at the idea of having Fei come back home to you, it had been so long since you had seen him, but you were worried he wouldn't remember you or would hold a grudge. Turns out, you were right about that.

Feitan’s return was nothing like you had hoped for. The first thing you noticed about him was his demeanor, it hadn’t gotten much better from when he was younger, still brooding and dark as always. While he didn’t seem upset to be home, it wasn't much of a celebration and Feitan made it clear that he wasn’t some well trained hybrid now that you had sent him off to training school. In fact, all he had learned was now that he was free he didn’t have to hold back his urges anymore. He quickly became aggressive and pushy with you, following you around and muttering under his breath as he did so. He would stalk you as you made your way to your room after college classes and shove you down into your comforter, filling you up as many times as he pleased while spitting toxicity into your ear about how you had left him and how you better not leave him again. Heats were the worst due to how vicious and needy Feitan would become, demanding your body and attention whenever he wanted it.

You had many friends who had hybrids and this type of behavior was nowhere near normal, you were sure of that. It was the lack of training from a young age that had allowed sweet little Fei to become the menace he is now. Your parents had worried for you when you told them you were moving out and bringing Feitan with you, they knew how horrendous he could be and having him all alone in your apartment would be miserable for both of you, but you knew leaving Feitan again would be a disaster. Just like every time you tried to take a vacation for more than one night and you came back to a mess to clean up. Even after everything he had done, you couldn't bring yourself to hate him, it wasn’t his fault.

Shuffling was audible from your bedroom and after a moment the curtain was pushed aside and Feitan stood in the doorway, ears flicking in irritation.

“Did you bring food?” His cat-like eyes narrowed in on you as you sighed and turned towards him. It wasn’t often that the first thing Feitan said to you when you got home wasn’t asking you for something. He was awfully needy for how quiet and independent he was, always expecting something from you.

“No, Fei…we don’t have that type of money. I will make us some ramen, okay?” You soothed slightly, flinching when the cat hybrid scoffed in your direction, his ears twitching.

“Gross.”

He turned back around and disappeared back into the small bedroom, leaving you alone once again.

You then shuffled around the kitchen for the next twenty minutes, heating up water and putting the noodles into the pot to cook. Food choices were few and far between and you felt guilty for making him eat the same food every day, but you really couldn’t afford anything else at the moment. If only he would agree to stay with your parents while you looked for a better job. He would never agree to that. One of these days you would skip lunch at work and buy some cheap salmon to make for him, maybe that would brighten his mood up a little bit. You finished cooking the noodles and poured the chicken powder into the pot to mix with it, stirring it before pouring it into two separate bowls.

“Fei! Dinners ready.” You called out, sitting at the tiny little table you managed to squeeze into your apartment and setting the two bowls down on separate sides of the table. Dinner was silent like usual, with Feitan finishing his bowl quickly and leaving the kitchen again, returning to the bedroom. It was depressing to say the least, knowing he probably spent all his time inside your bedroom reading or doing god knows what. You were just hoping that when you went in there today, there wouldn’t be a mess for you to clean up.

Finishing your noodles, you cleaned the two bowls and put them in the sink for the next day, you were sure you’d get around to cleaning them tomorrow. Shuffling towards your bedroom and pushing the curtain open, you were met with a decently clean room, almost the same as you had left it that morning, except for one thing. The drawers to your dresser had been pulled open and left that way, a few pairs of panties tossed to the side and left a stray on the floor. Sighing and making your way over to the dresser, you began to put the clothes back in their place and push all the drawers closed until you noticed a shadow beginning to loom over you. You turned your head to see Feitan standing over your, lip raised in annoyance and tailing swishing around in aggravation.

“What are you doing?” His tone was condescending and cruel, as if you were doing something offensive somewhere you weren’t supposed to be. You were used to Feitan's foul or harsh behavior, but this kind of aggression was usually saved for when he was really upset or wanted you for something.

“I’m just cleaning up the mess..”.

You prayed that he would just back up and leave you be, but you knew better than that.

Feitan’s eyes narrowed in on your crouched form and he reached down, grabbing your upper arm and pulling you up.

“You always forget. So neglectful.” He was mocking you even if his tone was close to monotone, he knew how hard you tried to make life better for the two of you and it wasn’t like he wasn’t grateful, he just preferred you guilty and ashamed. His grip was very strong despite his short stature and he pulled you towards the bed without much care for the way you were stumbling and pulling at his hand.

“Fei- I’m tired..”, You pleaded with the cat hybrid, pulling at his fingers that were gripped around your arm, leaving red imprints in your skin. Feitan ignored your begging and tossed you sideways onto the bed before climbing on top of you, arms caging you in on either side. One of his knees found its way between your legs, forcing them open while the other leg pressed against your hip. Sometimes you wondered if sending him off to the training center had only made him worse, because now he felt that he had something to hold over your head and he had an excuse for his behavior.

“Don’t care, just lay there then.” He muttered and brought his hands to the bottom of your shirt, peeling it upwards. You begrudgingly lift your arms up for him, allowing the shirt to be pulled up and over your head. Feitan hated bras, he made that clear to you time and time again when he struggled to unclip them, getting more and more impatient as time went on. This time was no different as he visibly looked annoyed by the existence of the garment.

“ Take it off or I’m going to rip it.” He instructed you, way too short tempered to even attempt to remove it himself.

“You said I would just have to lay here..”

Feitan’s knee pressed up against your crotch and made squirm, slowly sitting up to unclip the back of your bra for him. The moment you pulled the last strap off your arm, he pushed your back down onto the bedding and attached his lips to one of your buds. His sharp teeth grazed the sensitive skin slightly before he began to suck on it, tongue pressing flat against your hardening nipple. You knew there was no escaping Feitan when he was in heat, so you slowly combed your hand into his black hair, gripping it between your fingers. One of his hands moved from beside you to grab your other breast, squeezing and massaging whatever he could in his hand before rubbing the nipple with his thumb. He continued to suck on your other nipple while he used his thumb and pointer finger to take your nipple between them and give it a harsh tug. Your grip in his hair tightens quickly, whines jumping from your lips in response to the harsh treatment.

He switched sides, taking the stinging nipple in his mouth and soothing it with his tongue, while massaging your other tit. The assault on your chest ends with another harsh tug on your nipple and him running his tongue along your other one one more time before pulling away and beginning to work at the buttons of your pants.

“Tomorrow, wear a skirt. It’ll be easier for me.”

You can’t deny him and you know that, he will remember telling you to wear a skirt and if you don’t follow his instructions he will make things much rougher for you. Even with his short temper, he was being rather calm with you right now, even taking his time on you.

He tugs your pants off and away from your legs, moving around to get them completely off you. He’s about to go for your panties when you reach up and grab his shirt, stopping him in his tracks and earning a glare from him.

“Wait- take this off…”.

Feitan rolls his eyes slightly but bends to your will anyways and pulls off his t-shirt, revealing his toned chest to you. He’s quick to get back to what he was doing before, this time being a bit slower. He peels your panties off your body and grips your thighs, spreading your legs apart before moving down to become level with your pussy. Feitan isn’t always this into any kind of foreplay and it's a bit shocking just how much self control he is practicing.

His lips meet the inside of one of your thighs and he softly peppers it with kisses before sliding his tongue up towards your heat. He pulls away before reaching your crotch and positions his face right in front of your wet hole, chuckling softly at the way you're already completely soaked by just the small amount of foreplay. Pressing his tongue to the bottom of your cunt, he drags it through your soaked slit, collecting as much of your juices as he can before flicking your clit with his tongue. Your whines only egg him on and he quickly dives back in for more, this time choosing to simply devour your cunt instead of teasing you.

He eats you out as if you're the only thing he's tasted in days, sucking harshly on your clit and hole. He adores the way you arch your back and he forces your legs down, stopping you from closing your legs around his head. Your stomach is tightening in response to his tongue pushing itself into your and flicking at your bud. You're whimpering his name and he knows your orgasm is close. It comes crashing over you in a wave, drenching his face and mouth in juices.

The way he lifts his head up to look at you, licking as much of the cum around his mouth makes your stomach drop. He uses his shirt to wipe his face before smirking at your tired and fucked out expression, you always look so stupid and cute after you’ve cum.

“Mine.”

He comments slyly, slapping your clit suddenly and making you gasp out. His possessive streak always comes out during sex at some point. The dark hair hybrid stops and looks down at your heaving chest in thought, ears flicking slightly. You wonder exactly what he's thinking about, but it doesn’t take much time for him to let you know.

“Both legs on my shoulders, now.” He scoots closer between your legs, grabbing your calves and bringing them up to his shoulders, eyes narrowing in on your face.

“Keep them there.”

With that, he begins to unzip his pants, freeing his cock from his boxers. It's already dripping with precum and he leans forward, rubbing the tip against your pussy. Your breath hitches. He brings one hand up to grip one of your legs while the other grabs your hips to steady you.

“Keep your leg on my shoulder, or I’ll hold you upside down.”

He reaches over to your other leg and tugs it tight against his shoulder before switching back to hold the other one. In seconds, he's bottomed into you, pulling a loud cry from your lips. He's chosen the position he thinks he can get as deep as possible with and he finds success with the way tears begin to run down your flushed face. Triumph combined with the initial pleasure flows over him and his grip on your hip tightens. He leans down towards you.

“Who owns you?”

“Y-You do..Feitan..”

He makes a snapping sound with his tongue as he pulls away from you, satisfied with your answer. His cock is pulled all the way out of you again, only the tip resting in your hole before it's slammed back inside of you. The pace he sets is brutal and relentless and you do your best to tighten your legs around his shoulders.

Feitan never moans out, instead his pleasure comes out in restrained grunts. He prefers to listen to your whimpers and moans that echo through the small apartment, mixed with the sound of skin slapping against each other. He’s slamming into your g-spot with every thrust and it's impossible for you to keep your cries silent, the overwhelming sensation repeating itself every second. Your stomach is already tightening again due to the impending orgasm and with how Feitan’s gritting his teeth, you know he's close as well.

You cum first, all over his v-line and thighs. He continues his pace, chasing his high before releasing his seed inside of you, filling you with his warmth. You finally allow your leg to drop off his shoulder and he releases the other one, catching his breath quietly while watching his cum drip out of your cunt onto the bed sheets. It's satisfying to him and he could watch it hundreds of times without being bored.

“Ironic.”

He reaches down and runs the pad of his finger through your pussy. You quiver in return.

“Who’s really the pet here?”

I-Ilumi~

Illumi

Low-key wish he was real but that’s a death sentence for me so~

Hi do you write for Feitan because if so could I ask for Feitan having a young and dumb masochistic sister who is always wears revealing clothes which makes him constantly punish her, which doesn’t really bother her too much since she gets off to it.

If you don’t do Feitan you can replace him for Illumi, Chrollo, or Hisoka I’m not especially picky hehe~ thx.

WARNINGS || nsfw, incest, sex toys, name calling, face slapping, shibari, forced orgasms, begging + dacryphilia

You’re just so dumb. He wonders how you get through life when he’s not around because you’re just a little dimwit who’s only good for a good dicking.

Of course he feels sorry for you. You are his darling sister who he adores more than anyone else in the world but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get angry at you and you seem to enjoy testing his patience before he loses control.

You make sure to wear the tiniest skirts and dresses whenever he brings his friends home and when you have your own friends over, you parade around like some cheap whore and nothing else. He should be embarrassed by your behaviour but he’s too fucking focused on your tits and the way they bounce whenever you move to fast.

He’d asked you not to dress like that when he had guests over, especially since it was important business and now they all seemed discarded by his slutty sister.

So no, he’s not going to give in no matter how much you beg. You look good tied up and helpless and he’s not stupid, he knows you enjoy this shit a little too much so he won’t make it easy.

“Please” You beg, gasping as the rope digs into your skin the more you move. It hurts so good but it’s not enough, it’s never enough.

He hasn’t even touched you yet. He watches from where he’s sitting, your legs shaking from the vibrating sensations inside your pussy. You’ve already cum three times and it’s starting to feel intense and it hurts. You just want him to touch you.

“Slut” He scoffs, walking over to the bed to grab your jaw

“I need you” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as he slaps your cheek

“Whore” He says, glaring at you as he starts turns up the vibrator to a higher setting

You scream, arching as much as you can or rather, as much as the ropes would allow. You’re so sensitive and sore but you know he can go all night, he enjoyed torture and since he would never actually harm you any other way, he took it out on your body and you couldn’t do anything to stop him.

He can’t help but stare down at your face. You were beautiful sure but there was something so special about your crying face since he knew you only ever cried for him. It might have been sick but he liked to make you cry, it got him hard in no time and he would fuck you senseless.

“Fuck” You cry out, trying but failing to get your hands free. You would be in pain the next day for sure but you never really learned your lesson and it would only be a few more days before you did it again.

You couldn’t help but want his attention on you all the time even if it hurt.

The last one put me outta my misery🤣😂

Phantom troupe reactions to you saying

“I love you” with random memes I have saved on my phone:

Chrollo:

Keep reading

A list of a few otome games that I absolutely love~

My First Otome game, also I’ve played a lot of other voltage games so I’m not gonna add anymore to the list just take my word for it.

Seduce Me

I love these games right here. I’d do anything to ask Michaela Laws (The creator of the games) to make a three. Love the opening song lol.

Mystic Messenger

Luckily I already had no life when I played this game so the 3am chatrooms didn’t bother me too much. Opening is a banger lol.

Cinderella Phenomenon

I love this game, Waltz Is my bae and these other boi be so damn cute. Plus it has a pretty good story on top of that Highly recommended. Also the opening song slaps.

Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Isn’t technically a otome game but also yes it is fight me. Lol in all seriousness the dating sim elements are pretty nice and love these bois.

Obey Me

I… loved this game but unfortunately I do not play it anymore. Why? Well the grind to get to the next story just wasn’t fun anymore so yeah I do however realize that these bois have unique personalities and are cute. I just don’t have the patience.

Xoxo Droplets

This game here~ I love everything bout it except one thing the be friends with everyone mechanic. I honestly hate it and a younger me actually stopped playing it because of it the first time. It just wasn’t fun, now I know u can just cheat that away but then it gives you nothing to do but wait until the weekend to spend with ur asshole boi of choice. (Mines is Everett) I still recommend it tho I’m just impatient and easily bored.

Our Life: Beginnings and Always

This is one of the best damn otome games I played. It has many options to make your character feel like you and a sweet boi that I personally really like. It has a great nostalgic feel that made me wish I spent more time playing outside as a child, this game made me cry a few times and just made me want to give any kid I have a nice childhood like the one’s in this game. Plus the music is great very soothing.

a reminder

sometimes the first of the fauti harbingers, the director, need to remind those that are below him in rank who is really in charge, who holds all the cards, and who fucks their favorite little attendant the best. as a reminder.

contents: pierro x reader, childe x reader, fauti agent!reader who is afab and gender neutral, Dubcon, Power Imbalance (Reader cannot say no to their boss/leader/almost religious figure but is enjoying themselves), fingering, oral (reader to character), rough sex, biting, marking, reader is referred to as a 'beautiful' and a 'toy', reader is described as smaller than Pierro but no other terms are used, Childe Gets Cucked(tm)

a/n: this took me a really long time and has made me super anxious but fuck it. we ball. i hope you enjoy it, i'm pleased that i managed to keep going with it when my brain told me to quit.

Tartaglia, the youngest harbinger, sometimes should be brought in line. He is never egregious in his actions nor is his loyalty ever doubted but all must be reminded of their place.

That is what Pierro, the first and leader of the harbingers, believes and it is what spurred him into action this evening.

Of course he noticed how Tartagila chased you, hunting you down at any moment to tease and torment you. It was no secret to anyone else either, that you were the favored attendant of the 11th harbinger, that he touched you whenever he pleased, tugged at your clothes to catch a glimpse of you, pulled on your hair, and always had his eyes set on you the moment you appeared in the room. You were his distraction and it was becoming something of a nuisance- especially when Tartagila would pout if you were assigned somewhere else for too long or when he was denied permission to take you abroad.  

It wasn’t as clear if you returned those affections either, because even if you didn’t there isn’t a possibility you’d ever deny one of the harbingers something they wanted. When Tartaglia touches you too much or asks you a risque question, you light up red and stammer out a placating response. Pierro wondered if Childe had ever coerced you to his bed and claimed you yet– for surely if he wanted to he could have you. You had no right to say no, to him or to any of the Harbingers. 

Which is how you ended up in this predicament, standing before him. Your expression partially was hidden with the mask you wore, as all of your station did, but your lip trembled. You would never refuse Pierro, the first Harbinger and the one all answer to. When he first addressed you and ordered you to his office, to say you were terrified would be putting it lightly. The fearful and worried glances that your co-workers cast at you. The atmosphere chilled you more than any ice in the Tsarita’s realm but like a good, loyal member of the Fauti you nodded and replied with a quiet “Yes, My lord.”

What were his intentions with you in the beginning? He had wanted to punish Tartagila for getting too loud, too cocky, a reminder of the low rank he placed. To get rid of you, to harm you, or give you away as a reminder of his place in the pecking order.

But there is something to you, Pierro notes. Perhaps he can find himself agreeing with Childe’s infatuation with you, as he examines the nervousness in your form and the curve of your body even in the uniform.

His intentions change drastically the moment you stepped into his office and the door had shut close. 

Despite the nervous energy you exude, you keep your posture strict and your head lowered. Pierro sees the way your throat bobs when you nervously swallow and await what he has to say. 

He lets out a huff of air as he resigns himself to his decision and removes his elaborate cloak, draping it over his desk chair. It feels far too intimate for someone like you to witness; yet you cannot help but take in the way his clothes frame his broad shoulders and form. You would never deny that you believe him to quite handsome, and your heart beat quickens at the thought. 

He settles behind his desk, hands clasped over one another, and his visible eye not covered by the mask is as cold as the never melting snow. 

“You are trembling, like a petrified rabbit.” 

You swallow a yelp that threatened to escape and came out only as the smallest of squeaks that undoubtedly he picked up on– indeed you were like prey. “I am sorry, Lord Harbinger.” You manage out and he is slightly impressed by your ability to keep your voice as even as you did.

“No need,” He takes in your form and you shiver, feeling the way he studies you, thinking him to be scowling and not imagining what he wants to do to you first. “You are right to fear me. It shows you know your place.”

“Thank you, Lord Harbinger.” You wince at how fast the words tumbled out of your mouth. 

“There are others who would be… in need of a reminder.”

You blink, confused before he beckons to you with a flick of his hand. “Come here.”

You are breathing hard as you approach his desk, closer to him than you or any of your comrades have ever been to the director. Your steps are tentative and cautious, and you stop just before his desk but he beckons you again, a harsher, irritated, gesture that makes fear crawl through every nerve and you stumble forward. 

He is satisfied when you are standing right in front of him and his chair. Your posture is straight as possible and it feels like your heart is threatening to burst. Despite that you stand over him, the aura that surrounds him makes you feel impossibly small. 

“Tartaglia. You are often assigned to him, correct?”

There is a slight tilt to his lips as he watches you stiffen, watches you react as you panic. You believed you were to be punished for fraternization (albeit unwillingly, you are simply a loyal and dutiful attendant to the younger harbinger)

“I-”

“The Childe is so easily distracted by you,” Pierro says and while you dare not make eye contact with him, his gaze is starting to make you feel heat in a way that you should not in this frozen land, not in front of the first of the harbingers. “I believe… I understand why, now.” 

Your mind can’t process the words he just spoke, all fog and heavy until you feel a large, warm hand slide over the fabric of your uniform. You feel like you’re falling off the tallest peak, You think it’s a trick of your mind until you look to see his hand around your hip, sliding along your curves.

“You will not deny me.” He speaks it as a question but every aspect of him tells you it’s a demand. You nod your head vigorously.

“Of course, Lord Harbinger. I would never.”

He hums in agreement, a deep sound from his chest, and he’s tugging you closer to move you to him until you’re touching his knees. He manipulates you with ease, positioning you until you are sitting across his lap. You don’t dare to touch him so your hands sit idly before he pulls them to his shoulders. 

You are not sure if anyone has ever been this close to Pierro and lived to speak of it. You’re not sure if you will live to speak of it. 

Where you are unsure and timid, Pierro is confident in what he wants. His hand cups at your hips to pull you closer onto his lap and his other hand grips your chin so that you look at him.

“I do not desire a mere object, so do give me your best efforts.” His hand then moves to slip the mask off your face, showing him your nervous eyes and flushed cheeks. 

For a moment, you worry if your bare face is not to his liking; insecurity flaring up inside you. But then he pulls your chin in and presses his lips against yours. You stall but only for a moment, remembering his words and parting your lips to let his tongue inside, to let him kiss you as he pleases.

You would never think that you would be in the lap of the First of the harbingers, kissing him and tasting his tongue; which you found to taste sweet and you leaned into him to have more. You had thought if he was going to use you as Tartaglia does, he would simply have you over his desk or against the wall and would not care to caress or kiss you. But instead, he is sensual with his touches and seems more interested in making you melt under him. 

You fear you are a participant in some sort of punishment but the way he handles you is more of a reward than anything else. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt and you whimper into his mouth when he angles your head to the side to have more access to you.

When he pulls away, you are flushed and heaving; your lips swollen and wet. His expression is dark with desire as they watch how helpless you become. 

You try to form words, to say something, but all that comes out is panting. His hand slides down your chest, fingers methodically working at the buttons and clasps of your uniform’s shirt. The moment there is enough give for him too, he slides his hand into your shirt, easily slips under your undergarments, and cups at your breast. Although gloved, the mixture of the chill air and the heat from his hand makes your back arch and thighs squeeze together for just a bit of relief. 

His thumb rubs gentle circles over your nipple that sends heat throughout your body before he is opening more of your shirt until your chest is bare to him. The cold air and stimulation have your nipples hard and he returns to toying with them just a bit longer before he removes his hand.

Pierro holds his hand up to you. “Take them off,” he orders and you obey with a quick nod for you do not think you could make any words come from your throat right now. You slide the glove off his hand and before you even know what to do with it,  his thumb is pressing down at your lip to make you open, and then his fingers are in your mouth.

His gaze on you is intense and he is mesmerized by the way your spit coats his thick fingers. You make a mental note of his pleased hum and lick and suck on the digits in a deliberate way to show him just how well you would take care of other parts of him. 

And, clearly, this was a correct move because his lips part ever so slightly and his fingers push deeper into your hot mouth. You tighten your lips around them and suck, fluttering eyelashes as you dare to look up at him. A Squeeze on your waist and the throb of pressure beneath you tells you it is to his liking. 

To know that he desires you makes you feel hot all over, makes you ache. You would never believe yourself to be worthy– and still, you do not– but you do not wish to disappoint him.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, spittle following in a trail from your lips. His hand that had been holding your waist moves up your back, causing you to lean back and he is soon pulling at the buttons of your pants. He is far less careful and slow than he was with your shirt and you can feel the thick pressure that is pressing hard against your ass with every movement you make. 

As soon as he is granted access, you find yourself gasping out a plea, for his large hand engulfs your cunt and is harshly palming and rubbing at you over your undergarments. He watches your expression so intently, as you gasp and writhe and squirm on his lap. You feel your hand that is around his shoulder get tangled in his hair, and you babble out an apology that comes out not nearly coherent enough– especially when his thick finger curls and presses so easily against you over the thin fabric that is soaked with your slick.

“So wet,” he comments, tone low and husky as he watches how you pant. “Aren’t you chilly?” You have no idea how you could be when he is making you feel this hot all over. “Spread your legs.”

You do as you are told and are rewarded by him slipping under the fabric that covers you and teasing your entrance with his middle finger. You whine, you roll your hips against his hand shamefully but he does not seem to mind. Instead, the hand supporting you move to the back of your head, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back. His mouth captures your cries so hungrily as he sinks his thick finger inside your heat. 

The wet sound of his finger thrusting in and out of you is so, so loud to you– despite your loud panting and whines and the sound of Pierro working against your mouth. He bites and sucks at your lower lip and you’re lost in the sensations he gives you with each deep thrust of his finger. 

“What a good little thing you are.” He murmurs against your lips and a lewd moan escapes you, the loudest noise you’ve made. And he is so entertained by your reaction to his praise, another slight curve to his lips, and more so when he slides a second finger in and the sting brings tears to your eyes.

“Does Tartgalia bring you this much pleasure?” He asks, his pace increasing until he is thrusting in and out of you at an unbelievable pace, palm occasionally pressing down on your swollen clit that pulses pleasure through you. “Has he ever made you feel this good?”

“N-no, no–” You gasp for air, lungs empty and your heart race as you find yourself hurtling towards your peak. “No, never– Not like you, My Lord-” One hard press of his hand has you breaking apart and he watches with rapt interest the way your moans escape and your eyes shut and your head falls back— the expressions you make are wonderful indeed, he thinks. His fingers slow their thrusting as you ride your high out, clenching so tight around him and coating his hand and thighs with your arousal. But he doesn’t seem the slightest put off by this, pleased with how you fall apart in his grasp and the control he has over you. 

Although it seems so… wrong to you. You are panting, feeling the aftermath of such an intense orgasm, and are being held by a man so high in power it’s dizzying. You can feel how hard he is and the first emotion to rise is guilt. Shame. 

“My… my Lord Harbinger-“ you are so breathless, the words are hard to form. “May I please submit a request?”

Pierro lets out a chuckle, a deep rumbling noise, at your professionalism despite your state. He leans into you, casting hot breath over your lips when he asks; “What is it?”

“Let me bring you pleasure,” Your hand grips his shirt, such a bold move from you but you need to steady yourself. “W-with my mouth- on my knees. Please.” It wasn’t right, you think, he should be using you and you should be pleasing him.

“So eager.” He said before kissing your lips once more, his palm rubbing between your legs just a bit more before he releases you. “Granted.”

You feel unsteady and your legs wobble as soon as you stand and the way his hands stabilize you by holding onto you makes you yearn for him- year to please him. So you are quick to kneel down to him and make your way between his legs.

He leans back in his chair and is pleased at the sight of you working at his pants— on your knees, desperate to have him in your mouth, to please him and worship him. Pierro is not one to display his desire so blatantly, but still he groans when he feels your hands touch his aching cock, hard and wanting.

You note how large he is, how thick he is. Dread creeps up in you as you imagine if he intends to take you with it. It would split you open and you can't tell if the thought of it arouses you or terrifies you— with determination you set out to make him cum with your mouth so that you may escape such a fate.

Your hands grip his thighs, feeling the hardness of his muscles, as you lean in and give him a tentative lick on the head– and you hear the slightest sigh from him and feel a hand find its place on the top of your head. He doesn’t grip your hair or force you down, he simply rests his palm as you slowly lick and kiss his cock.

It’s shameful how much this makes you ache, even after you were so generously given pleasure from him, but to know that he is hard after kissing you— that he wants you and is having you… It makes you feel like nothing else in the world and you channel that in determination to please him the best you could.

One hand wraps around his shaft as you wrap your lips around the tip and you look up with half-lidded eyes to watch his expression. He is watching you but you can see the flush forming on his face, the way his eyes are so dark with need. The salty taste of his precum fills your mouth as you suck on him, taking in more and more of his cock.

It is so big and far too thick, your jaw aches with how much you open for him and drool mixed with cum drips down your chin. Your eyes shut tightly as you feel tears start to form but you do not give up your efforts, taking in as much as you can. When he hits the back of your throat and you try your best not to gag, you whimper around him and a louder groan escape him and his fingers curl in your hair– you know you are doing good. 

Only the best for your Harbinger.

Sliding back until his cock releases from your mouth with a slick pop, your hand glides over his cock with ease thanks to the fluid that coats it. A long lick to the thicker vein along his cock and you take him back in your mouth, as far as you can, and his hips cant up into you. 

Another glance up to him and his head is lolled back against the chair, his eyes shut, and he is taking shallow breaths, and oh you want to reach down between your thighs, where you are aching so desperately, at the sight of it. But you have already been selfish, you think, you must serve him more.

You quicken your pace, even as your jaw stings and aches, bobbing your head up and down faster and faster, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, suck, and suck; to bring him to his peak so that when–

He yanks you by your hair and you are pulled off his cock, and you cannot prevent the cry of pain and shock you give out. You see his chest is heaving now and he is staring at you and his cock twitches and throbs- flushed red and glistening, denied its release.  

Had you thought wrong? Did you not please him as well? You attempt to apologize, but your voice comes out as a rasp and your throat is sore. You feel fear crawl into you at the thought before he releases his grip on your hair and motions you to stand.

“Strip.” He commands. While breathless, he does not lack for his dominating presence and you are removing what is left of your clothes faster than you ever have before. 

Your body shakes and you’re not sure if it’s fear or the chilly air or both, but you are obedient and await his next command. He rises from his chair and in a flash, his hands take your shoulders and you are spun around until his chest is warming you and you’re being bent over his desk. 

You shudder, anticipation mixed with fear, and your hands grip at the edge of his desk as you brace yourself for what is to come. Hands– now both bare– roam up and down your body, your breasts to your stomach and hips. Squeezing and feeling every inch of you.

“You are,” You feel the tip of him press against you, so thick and already too much, and you whimper. “Captivating.” 

He splits you open, slow and shallow thrusts as you take him in bit by bit. His girth is far more than anything you have ever experienced and shameful cries escape you. You bite at your hand in an attempt to silence yourself but he bends over you, his body much larger until you feel his hair tickle the back of your neck. His hands planted firmly on the desk next to your shoulders.

“You need not silence your cries, I find them to be quite pleasing.” And he thrusts harder, too much of him going in, and you jolt again the desk and cry out. Every cry and sob that comes from you makes his cock twitch inside of you, and when he bottoms out in you you don't think you've ever felt this level of fullness. 

He slides out, then again thrusts back into— harsh and with a resounding slap against— and soon he is fucking into you hard. Every hard thrust makes you jolt and your thighs sting from being slammed into the edge of the desk over and over. He is panting and grunting from atop you, the way you cry out and your cunt clenches around him makes him almost lose himself in you. He bites and kisses your skin, leaving mark after mark. Hands dig into your hips hard enough to bruise. He aches to spill himself inside you, to fuck you full, to feel you cum on his cock.

But then there is knocking at his door. You freeze under him in terror but he is expecting this, he does not relent. Instead his thrusts become less deep, slowing to grind against you instead, and he straightens and stands while you’re still wrapped around him. 

“Enter.” 

You are chilled to the bone, terrified and embarrassed as the door swings open, and whoever is will see you in such a state–

You are met with the wide-eyed, shocked expression that decorates Childe’s face.

“Tartaglia,” Pierro greets without stopping his thrusts, using his grip on your hips to slam you back against him- to make you cry out and watch as Childe winces. “You’re late.”

The door shuts behind Childe, whose eyes do not leave your trembling, fucked out face. His eyes reflect no light and bare no emotion but you can still see how he winces at every small whimper that escapes you. 

“Apologies, Director.” His voice has the slightest quake to it and you can’t bare to keep looking at him, not with the way Pierro’s cock in you feels and hits at a spot inside you that makes you cry out and drop your head down. “I was caught up.”

You cannot silence your moans even as they talk to each other; the sound of wet sound of him fucking you and the smell of your arousal cannot be ignored. Pierro once again yanks your head up by your hair, forcing you to face Childe once more. A rough thumb circles your clit and you cry out. 

“Our attendent is quite wonderful, Tartglia. I believe I’ve come to share your fixation.” Pierro states as if appraising the way your cunt squeezes him. “So beautiful, and so very obedient.” 

You blink away the tears in your eyes and see Childe’s strained face, the jaw his jaw is set tight and his fists are clenching, and– oh, the beginning of the bulge in his pants. 

“My dear little one,” you whimper at the pet name, “Who fucks you best?”

You can’t even begin to think, your mind is lost, and you cry out “You, my lord Harbinger- You, the Director- You, Pierro- You.”

“That’s right.” And you are rewarded with more strokes to your clit, a harsher thrust until you are flush against him, and you break once more. Pierro shuts his eyes tight as you cum against him, cunt sucking him in and the fluid that gushes out of you, and he does not stop the rocking of his hips. “I hope,” His voice is hoarse, breathless. “Our Childe will learn that, of Who comes before him. The one who is in control.”

Childe watches as you come apart on Pierro’s cock, as you grip at the desk and wail and make expressions he’s never seen. Watches you writhe in pleasure from someone who isn’t him and isn’t someone who he would dare go against. 

He sucks in a harsh breath. “I understand, Director.”

“Good. I’ll be generous and let you have your toy,” Pierro grips your jaw to pull you back up and sucks a kiss on your neck, loud and wet and leaving another, darker mark, and looks back to Childe. “Just remember who owns it. Isn’t that right, my dear?”

You’re fucked out, your mind is gone, drool and tears coat your face and you simply nod weakly in his hand. That curve to his lips is there again, and there is agony painted on Childe’s face as you respond.

“Of course,” Your voice is reduced to nothing but a sob, breathless and weak. “My Lord Harbinger.”