#feitan x phinks

[silverhypnos]

God, I love my fics out of context.

[nynyhaha]

[sullenhighstar]

Omg .. missed him

[spaceandbones]

Feitan/Phinks, rated E for nasty

[quimichi]

¡! ❞ MAKING OUT WITH HXH GUYS

warnings: NSFW - MDNI, Ging Freecs, this man needs his own tw, kissing, making out, pet names, teasing, yeah i think thats it?

summary: Making out with hxh guys

characters: HxH guys x F!Reader + Neferpitou (they/them) dunno where to put that creature

word count: 5.940

a/n: any character you want added? Tell me lol

Chrollo

Chrollo is kissing you with a passion that borders on fervent. His hands touch the curves of your face— as if trying to memorize how you feel under his skin. He wants to memorize your smell, how each of your curves and dip fits against him.

His tongue sweeps along your lips, desperate for more. Chrollo is craving you; craving the sensation of your skin against his. Chrollo's hands slide down your chest and to your thighs, pulling you even closer against him, his touch insistent and demanding. He pulls back and gazes at you, his hand tilting your chin so that you're looking up at him. His eyes are dilated, almost completely black, and his voice is ragged as he speaks.

"Don't look away from me," he murmurs. "Your eyes. Let me see them. I need to see you." His mouth is on your neck, his hands roaming over your skin. He's desperate. His tongue follows the path of his lips, tasting the air with a fervour that borders on the needy. He lets out a ragged exhale that turns into a moan against your flesh.

"You're mine," he groans. "You're perfect. You're mine."

Dalzollene

Dalzollene is pressed against your body, hands at your hips. His head dips to kiss you, lips trailing across your jaw and down the column of your throat. "You're so good to me," he murmurs between pecks and kisses. "Good," he repeats. He presses closer against you, hands slipping under the hem of your shirt. Dalzollene's body presses hard against yours, pushing you back against the wall. One of his hands leaves your hips to come up under your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your stomach.

His other hand grips your hip, holding you in place. His lips find your sensitive point just under your jaw, and he nips you there. "My good girl." He says, as though he means it. "Gods, you're good to me." His kisses are hot, almost feverish, against your skin as his lips dance and suck to a new spot after just leaving the last. One hand grabs your hip tighter, pinning you to the wall behind you. The other slides down your chest and stomach, leaving fire in every place his fingertips graze you. "You're gonna make me weak if you keep being so good to me," he rasped against your neck. "Oh, you're so goddamn good to me." Dalzollene nips the soft flesh of your collarbone.

Feitan

"Ouch-!" Feitan lets out a soft laugh against your lips. His teeth nip at your skin, taking the tiniest tastes of you, relishing in the sweet moan that escapes your throat as he does so. His hand curls around your cheek, fingers tracing the line of your jaw.

"You are delicious," he murmurs, his voice low and sultry. "I could feast on you for eternity." Feitan's hand slides back to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. He tugs, pulling your head back and baring your neck for him. He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Who do you belong to?" He whispers, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. "Say it. Let me hear those sweet little words." His hand continues to grasp at you, as if he cannot get enough of your touch. His teeth graze against the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses along the line of your pulse. "Whose are you?" He breathes, his voice as soft and sweet as honey. "Tell me. Who do you belong to? Answer me. I will have my name on your hips, your back, everywhere. I'll carve it into you."

Ging

"Watch my-?" Ging stutters before cutting himself off, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. He blinks once, twice, before letting out a soft, almost inaudible exhale of breath. "My tongue?" Ging pulls you against him. One of his arms wraps around your waist, bringing you right flush against him. Gings other hand slides lower, slipping down to your hip.

"You're a brat, aren't you? No one ever complained about my kisses, ever." He murmurs, smirking. "Probably cause you never ever kissed someone, ever." You mock him. "You've always been a brat." Ging lets out a quiet laugh.

He tugs his hand from your hair, coming to rest it on your hip instead; his grip tightens ever-so-slightly. The hand at your stomach begins to rise, creeping just beneath the edge of your shirt. His hand slides higher, fingertips brushing against your skin, just shy of the waistband of your pants. Ging lets your ear fall against the crook of his neck, the action bringing you even more closely against him than you were a moment ago— it's as though he's attempting to meld the two of you together like an experiment.

He grins. "How long has it been since you've been on your best behaviour?"

Hanzo

Hanzo is a mess of kisses. He worships your lips like a shrine, he worships the curve of your neck, he worships the slope of your shoulders, the dip of your waist, everything. In a moment, he is a man drowning in an ocean of bliss— his body pressed against yours, his hands gripping you tight, holding you close to him.

The man is a kiss-soaked mess— his body a trembling mess, every kiss turning him to jelly. He holds onto you like he never wants to let go. "Did you ever-" but you were quickly shut down, "Never before." The answer comes in hushed, urgent tones. His hands trail over you like fire, tracing the curves and lines of your body like your skin is a map he wants to re-draw a thousand times.

"Never like this." His hands roam down your back. "Not with anyone like this." His words end on a gasp as his hand comes down to cup you, his touch possessive and almost reverent. It is a caress, but at the same time, it's claiming you.

"I have longed to touch you," he whispers, his words like a prayer. "To caress you… to hold you…" His words are like nothing he'd ever thought of before, but he seems to be spilling them without a care. It's as if he has been holding them back for years, and your touch has forced them out. For the first time, Hanzo is a man without a filter, no hesitation, no hesitance. "To touch you..." he murmurs, as he leans forward, pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck. "So desperately."

Hisoka

"Yes." He moans between kisses, arching up into you. He presses his body against yours, as close as two souls can be. Every kiss, every touch, only makes the fire inside him grow. His fingers, cold as moonlight, dance over your skin. His lips are soft, but his touch is hungry— he wants you, needs you, like a starving puppy that only a single meal will suffice. "Oh," he whispers against your lips, "OH~" he moans, "Mmm, yes, keep it coming." He lets out a shuddering breath. Hisoka's fingers dip into your hair and thread through the soft strands, grabbing the locks in a way that makes it hard for you escape from his hold.

"So good. You're so good, so—" He cuts off a moan, his breath hitching in anticipation of something. "Can you shut the fuck up, clown ass-" you blurt out.

Hisokas eyes gleam, sparkling like jewels as he looks up at you. He loves it when you take control like this. All those sounds he made before are nothing compared to his cocky grin now. "Mmm, make me," he responds, teasingly.

Hisoka's hand slides up your arm, all the way up and his fingers dig into your shoulder hard. His smirk is playful, but that look in his eyes… that's no joke. A low growl rolls past his lips. 

"I dare you," he teases. "Make me shut up."

Illumi

Kissing Illumis lips feels like kissing a statue. His body is rigid, like the very air around him has frozen. The only response you get from him is from the way he shudders against you, or from the soft sound that slips from his lips when your tongue touches against his.

The kiss feels as if it were frozen in time. Illumi is completely and utterly frozen. The only sign he makes of life in his body is his hands— they're resting on your shoulders, fingers curling and releasing.

Your lips part from his, it's pointless and in a way embarrassing for you to keep going. "Did you...ever made out before?" "No." His answer is simple. His fingers grip tighter against your shoulders, pulling you a little closer to him. The stiffness in his body grows to the point that you might believe he stopped breathing entirely.

"Mother has taught me." "WHAT?!" "She said that making out, or kissing is a waste of time and should not be part of the relationship process. It takes away too much time." "Ah-"

The little sound you make makes Illumi pause.

His fingers flex and loosen against your shoulders. He's tense, body frozen in place, when suddenly he pulls you a little tighter.  "Ah," he repeats, your single little sound is so perfect to his ears. Soft and breathy.

"Well, seems like you have to...teach me then."

Kite

"My everything." Kite's fingers trail along your jaw, over your lips, tracing the lines of your face. "My only love."  He buries his nose into your neck, breathes you in. "Please." He says, the word almost a whimper of desire.

"Please, don't ever jump so reckless into danger again." "...Promise." "I hope so." The corners of Kite's lips curl up into a slight, affectionate smile, but it's a shaky smile. He buries a hand into your silken hair and breathes against your throat.

"Promise me you'll run when i tell you to. You stay where you are when i tell you to. You do as i tell you to. We don't know what we might encounter in NGL."

"Good." Kite's entire body relaxed, a shudder coming over him as your word echoed through his mind. He breathed out against your skin, nuzzling into that sweet spot beneath your jaw. He closed his eyes, pressing his lips against you in a kiss, and again, and again. He wants to lose himself in you.

"Please, do as told and leave me behind if you must."

Knov

Knov's lips are as cold as his skin is warm. It's a strange sensation, one that seems both heavenly and sinful at once. His arms are wrapped around you as though he would never let go. There's an almost reverent expression on his face as his lips connect with yours, and his hands roam your body as if he is trying to prove to himself you're really there.

He kisses you. Deeply and passionately, as if he were starving and you were the first thing that wasn't ice in his mouth. Knov's lips are cold, his hands hot against your skin. He guides you closer to him, one arm curled around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You can feel the heat of his body pressed against yours, a stark contrast to the cold of his lips.

His other hand is buried in your hair, fingers tangled in your locks like a man who was desperate to touch you. "Gods, you're beautiful," he murmurs. Knov's eyes roam over you almost possessively, as though he wants to look at every inch of you. He's silent like this, for the first time in as long as you can remember. He's so focused, so intent on you, that he has forgotten how to hold a conversation. All of his attention is on you— your form, the way your hair bounces as you move, the way your clothes mould themselves against you— he's completely captivated.

When he finally does speak again, his voice is rough. Deep and husky.

"I've missed you."

Knuckle

"C-Chill out-!" Knuckle's reaction to that is quite a lot of things, most of them sinful, and you can't tell when he stops kissing you or when he pulls back. For a moment he just stares at you, eyes wide. "You-" he breaths. The words fail him, replaced by a soft, shaky exhale. For a moment he's too stunned to move, staring.

But then, you're pressed against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, holding you as close to his body as humanly possible. He buries his face into your neck, pressing kisses to the skin. The way he kisses is desperate, desperate like a man starving in the desert. His breaths are hot against your skin, and his hands are gripping your waist, holding onto you so tightly he fears you might disappear.

"What as gotten into you." you chuckle lightly as his lips and hair tickle your skin. "You," he chokes out, his voice coming as a sharp gasp against your neck. His head lifts, and he kisses down the column of your neck, and you can hear the way he says "you" between kisses, and it sounds like a prayer, like a plea, like a vow. "You've gotten into me—"

Kurapika

"Feeling better?" You ask him, holding his face gently in your hands. "The world feels less cold," he admits. His hands come up to hold your face. He's never seen anything as precious as you before, and there is a sense of reverence in the way that he looks at you.

"I've never felt... whole." His fingertips trace the lines of your jaw. "I'm better now," he says, voice barely above a whisper. As he speaks, Kurapika's hands are still tracing the expanse of your cheek, the line of your jaw, the curve of your cheeks— as if he's memorising how it feels to finally touch you.

His eyes have softened when they look at you. The tension in his body seems to have left at last. "I'm better when I'm with you," he says. He kisses you. His lips are soft and warm against yours, the taste like sweet wine against your tongue, a heady mix of sweetness and intoxicating desire.

His arms are gentle as they wrap around your waist, drawing you closer still. As if your proximity isn't enough, he pulls you over so that you're sat atop  of him on his lap. His lips are hungry— a desperate need against your mouth as he kisses you over and over again.

Leorio

Leorio kisses back fiercely, lips pressing against yours fervently, tongue slipping past your lips. His hands slide up to cup your face, fingers tangling gently in your hair, cradling you against him as if he cannot get enough of you. He melts at your touch, breath leaving him in soft, shuddering gasps. He pulls back just slightly, only by millimeters— his lips just barely ghosting over your skin, his breath hot and needy and soft against your neck. Leorio swallows, lips parting slightly. The sound of his breath against your skin has an unmistakable undertone of need. He presses closer, pressing his body against yours, body shaking against you. Every breath he takes has his name falling from his lips.

"Gods," he gasps, voice a desperate whisper. "Bab…I don't know how much patience I have left."

He presses his lips between your collarbones, leaving soft, reverent kisses against smooth flesh. "I'm going crazy." You are making him absolutely unravel.

He murmurs your name as he presses kisses against your neck. He's whimpering now, a litany of praise against your skin like a desperate prayer. "Your- Gods, I need you-" His fingers clutch at your shirt, body trembling. "-I need to be closer to you."

The way he's shuddering against you is like a leaf in the wind. A shudder, a press, another kiss to your skin. "I'm going to break if I don't have you now."-

Menthuthuyoupi

"Wait-! Not so r-!" Menthuthuyoupi gasps, a low, startled sound that catches in his throat. He blinks down at you. "Not so rough?" His words are muffled against the soft plush of your lips, but the sound is clear. He pauses, lifting his head slightly— his lips barely leave yours, and he's still close enough that his body is flush against yours. His mouth brushes against your lips, the sound of his deep and gravelly voice rumbling from his chest.

He leans closer, his eyes still fixed on yours, and he murmurs. "Or not so loud?"

"Rough-!" "Yes." His breath is hot on your face, his tongue flicking out to trace your bottom lip, a slow, deliberate stroke of heat. A shudder runs through him as he pulls back just enough to speak. He tilts his head, and he looks up you. "You like that?" He tilts his head, his mouth only inches away from yours. A smirk pulls at his mouth, and he teases you in kind. "Rough." Menthuthuyoupis breath hitches against your ear. He shivers, his body taut with tension as his hand moves to the nape of your neck, fingers tightening against the soft skin.

"Rough." He murmurs once more, his voice barely a touch above a whisper. He pulls back slightly, and the look in his eyes is like a wildcat stalking its prey.

"You want rough." He repeats, as though it is the most obvious thing in the universe.

Meruem

His lips move against yours automatically. He kisses you with a sense of reverence so intense, you'd think you were worshipping a god in the shape of a man. Meruem's heart is in his throat. This is all he's ever dreamed of, all he's dreamed of since the day you first turned your eyes onto him. He kisses you like a dying man who is being reborn (literally). A man starving who cannot fathom having food, but here it is, right in front of him.

Just before you pull away, Meruem murmurs.

"Mine." His mouth curls up at that. He grins, but there's hunger behind his eyes, and something else too. A sense of possession. A deep, feral need to keep what is his and his alone. "Mine to devour," he agrees. "Mine to love. Mine to hold. Mine to eat if i so desire." Meruem kisses you again, this time more aggressively, as if he's trying to memorize every detail of your lips so that he will never forget the taste again. His hands, large and strong, come up to rest on your waist; his fingers dig into your body, claiming you as his with a possessive force that takes your breath.

He breaks the kiss, only to move back in, kissing you again and again. Each time, his embrace around you deepens, becomes harder. His breaths are becoming heavier.

"My Human tastes so good."

Morel

Morel is a man who is all restraint. He is meticulous, precise, and disciplined. He has a reputation as a hunter for his precise, deadly combat, but he has also been known to be a slow, almost deliberate lover.

His kiss against your mouth is slow and unhurried. When his lips part from yours, he pauses to gaze at you, as if you are a precious gemstone. Morel will look at you as if for the first time, even after months of seeing you. No matter how many times he's been in your presence, every look is like the first. His expression is always one of reverent awe. His hands are cool, soft, and steady. They rest against your face when he kisses you. He holds you close, like a flower held in a gentle breeze that will protect you from all the storms of the world. His movements are deliberately slow, as if he is savouring every inch of you.

"Morel..." His name on your lips makes his body shiver with something he couldn't have prepared for in a million deaths. He is as if carved from stone. The word that slips from your mouth as if falling from the gods themselves makes him feel like he's been touched by lightning.

"Say it again…?" he whispers.

"Morel." "You'll remember to scream that later." "Wait what?"

Neferpitou

Neferpitou shivers at the sensation of your lips. Soft. Plump. Just the right amount of firmness. When your hand cups the side of their face, they tilt their head into your hand — as though they couldn't be more content to be in your grasp.

"Was...was that a kiss…?" They ask breathlessly. Neferpitou has always been quiet, but they are so very desperate for you. Neferpitou kisses you like a drowning man, with a desperation that almost seems to consume the room. There are no words that need be said to describe this, only actions.

When your back hits the wall, Neferpitou is flush against you, their lips still on yours, tongue tracing over your teeth. Their hand reaches up to grasp you by the neck, pressing against your jaw with the same sort of urgency.

Their breaths get deeper, more ragged with want. "You're mine…" Neferpitou breathes when they finally pull back from your kiss, leaving only a few inches of space between your lips. Their thumb brushes over your lip, lingering as if they couldn't bear the thought of letting it go.

"Say you're mine, human!"

Netero

His lips are warm, softer than they have any right to be. His arms are around you, firm as a mountain, but gentle in a way that says he's being careful. He tastes of the rain, like the afterglow of a storm. His arms tighten against your back in a way that makes it perfectly clear: he intends on holding onto you for all eternity. He is centuries old— but he feels young with you. He holds you against him like a relic, a treasure from the very first second that he's made you his.

Your body fits against his, the two of you slotting together like the final bit of a puzzle. He is warm against you, his head buried against the crook of your neck, as if you are a pillow, and all his thoughts are on you. His face is pressed into your hair, and he inhales slowly, your scent filling his senses and his eyes flutter shut. It feels as if a part of him has been missing all his life, and then you came along and you fit so perfectly into his arms that all at once he realises: you were always that missing piece.

"I've been waiting for so long," he mumbles. "I'm not going to let go of you now."

Nobunaga

Nobunagas head is in the crook of your neck. He is breathing deeply, as if you could drown out the whole world with the scent of you alone. "I love you," he breathes again, against your skin. "You're it… you're all I need…"

His hand gently runs up your arm, holding you against him. He's clinging to you like a barnacle. Nobunaga's breath hitches as your touch moves against his jawline. "You're too good for me." His words are barely a whisper.  His eyes close as soon as your hand touches his face, and he's completely quiet now, save for the sound of his breath.

If it weren't for his heart beating, one would almost assume that he's dead. He's as still as a statue, as if the mere whisper of your touch could bring him shattering to his knees. "You," he murmurs again, his voice low, "you're everything. More. So many good things I'm not. You're— I would die for you. I would."

His grip on your arm tightens. "I'm lost in you… I'm—" he trails off, swallowing thickly.

Pariston

"Somebody might-" "Let them," Pariston murmurs against your mouth. He's breathless, his face a few inches from yours, eyes wide and fixed in a mixture of reverence and adoration. "Let them look. Let them see your good man; your beautiful lover." He pulls you closer, bringing you flush against him. There's something almost feverish in the way he looks at you. "Let them see that you're mine. Let them know you're the only one that matters." "But-" "But?" His tone matches yours; gentle, questioning. "But what?"

His eyes search yours, as if he's almost afraid that you'll tell him to stop— that he'll be forced to part from you, even for a second. He holds his ground, unmoving, his body pressed close to yours. Pariston smiles at you, a tender curve of the lips. It's a smile full of warmth and adoration.

It's the kind of smile that is utterly unguarded, a simple, unburdened smile that comes from nothing but love and affection. Pariston's tongue peeks out from behind his lips to moisten them. He brings a hand up to hold your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin.

"You look pretty when you're flustered," he comments. "And so flustered," he teases, his finger trailing lower down your face to brush against your neck playfully. "Are you scared that they'll think I'm taking advantage of you, my love?"

His hand slides down your arm; a shiver goes through you as his fingertips linger over your forearm. "Scared that they'll think that I'm making you mine?"

A pause, before he adds in a husky drawl that sounds more like a growl, "Scared that you'll like it?"

Phinks

"Only strong for you," Phinks murmurs with a soft gasp, breathless and trembling.

His arms tighten around you, fingers gripping your shoulders as he pulls you closer, needing to have you in his embrace. The only thought his mind is able to form is of you, of you, of you. Phinks breath hitches.

His fingers tighten around your waist. His lips part easily as his head cocks back and his breaths grow more urgent. He makes a low, soft sound as his fingers clutch tighter to your body, and he presses himself closer to you. Phinks can't get enough of this. He can't get enough of having you close, of having you so close to him. Of hearing you breathe, of feeling the weight of you on top of him.

He kisses you more roughly this time, tongue pressing against yours. One of his hands grips your waist, pulling you closer, and his fingers dig into your skin.

He pulls away and presses his lips to your neck, lips whispering against the skin.

"You drive me insane." One of his legs hooks around yours and he rolls, reversing the positions so that he is on top of you, staring down at you from above. He presses against you, fingers gripping your hips tightly.

Pokkle

"Me, shy?" Pokkle almost laughs, only holding in the sound with a stifled huff. He raises his face slowly to look at you, his eyes glistening just like they almost always do when he looks towards you. "I am not shy," he says. "I simply—"

His voice trails off once again and he looks down at his feet. He lets out a low, shuddering breath— he's never been a good liar. He lets out a quiet, breathless laugh.

"I'm not getting shy at all. I'm not. I just…" He looks up, eyes meeting yours almost immediately, like a flower seeking sun. "A moment of weakness. A brief vulnerability— I-"

He sighs. God, he is a bad liar.

"Shut up and keep kissing me." You whisper, leaning closer to him. Pokkle freezes at that order. His breath stops in his chest. For a moment, it seems he's stunned speechless by the statement.

And then, he reacts. All he does is stare for a second, and you catch a spark of something new in Pokkles eyes. "Okay," he says; his voice is barely a whisper as he responds to you, soft and just a little bit breathy.  He pulls you close.

Razor

His hands are gentle as he touches you, as he runs his fingers over you like you are pure light. Razor loves to tease you, loves to hear your little whimpers and gasps as his touch slides over you. "Did you do that on purpose?" Razor asks, voice slightly breathless as he presses his thumb over the spot were he just left his mark. "I don't believe you're this bad at practicing nen." there's a slight edge to his voice, "and I know you aren't that bad."

"Or— maybe," he murmurs— "I'm just that skilled at making you lose your focus." Razor lets his fingers dance over your skin while your heart beats faster under his touch. "You're so easy," he muses. His tongue slips out, running the tip along the seam of your lips. When he speaks again, his voice is a husky whisper:

"You're so desperate just for me to touch you."

His fingers dance along the inside of your shirt as they slip under the fabric, caressing the warm, supple skin beneath his fingertips. He kisses you again. His teeth close around your bottom lip. He nips at your mouth with more force. He gently bites and sucks and pulls until you're letting out the pretty noises that drive him crazy. When he releases your lip, a thread of saliva still connected to his mouth, he grins against it.

"You're not very quiet at all."

Shaiapouf

His kisses are soft, as if he is touching a piece of art that could crumble under the pressure of his own touch. He holds your gaze as he does, eyes wide and open, like a child that has seen something that has rocked his very world. His tongue is soft and slow against your mouth, warm and gentle like the summer sun. His body is warm as well, every muscle under his clothes as taut as tautrope. He moves slowly, languid, languid. He would not speed the pace on his own accord. He's content to worship you with his lips. His mouth moves to your neck, his lips brushing against the bare skin, soft as satin.

He's silent as he presses kisses against your throat, his nose brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. He inhales your scent, as if it alone was a sacrament he was consuming.

He moves lower, his mouth moving to the hollow of your throat. He pauses there, then moves down to the collarbone, his hair splaying across your skin. Shaiapoufs tongue runs along the contour of your collarbone. He lets it dance across the skin of your collarbone, as it would a melody on the strings. He presses gentle kisses there, moving his way back up along your throat to your jaw.

His hands are at your face, stroking softly across your cheek, your chin, your jaw. His touch is like a caress. He strokes over your lips.

Shalnark

A small whimper sounds in the back of Shalnarks throat as your lips meet. He is quick to return the kiss, as if every fiber of his being is focused on that one singular contact. He reaches up, resting his palm against the curve of your jaw, turning your head so that he can deepen the kiss.

His breath is hot against your skin, his other hand gripping your waist, fingers digging hard into the fabric of your clothes. "You're mine," he murmurs against your lips, almost desperately. His fingers tug at your clothes, trying to pull you closer. If he could have, he would have torn them from you, and then your body, so that he could have you even closer.

Shalnark tongue brushes over your lower lip, and he makes a soft sound—a small whimper—as he does so. He is desperate, and his touch is rough. In that moment, he simply wants to be close to you. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"Mine," he mumbles, again.

Shoot

Shoot melts into your kiss, a soft gasp of surprise escaping him as you kiss him, and he responds quietly, his hands hovering as if afraid to touch you. He's timid, but also hungry, desperate to feel your lips upon his.

His body presses against yours as your lips touch, and he makes another soft gasp as his hands finally touch your skin. You take his hands in mine and place them on your waist. Shoot hands freeze as they slide against your waist. His fingertips touch your hip, gently wrapping around you. He swallows hard, the sound loud in the quiet, as he pulls you closer. He lets his fingers explore your back, sliding up to your shoulders. His hands are cold, but not unwelcome. He keeps going, as if he's lost himself in the simple pleasure of touching you. "Your skin…it's so warm," he murmurs, voice a little breathless. The words are like smoke from his lips, his body shivering against yours. "I didn't expect—"

A soft noise sounds from his throat, and Shoot tugs you closer against himself, his body molding against yours like clay. "It's been too long. I've missed the touch of warm skin," he complains, leaning forward to bury his face into your neck.

Uvogin

Uvogin is in control— a gentle yet calloused hand against the sensitive skin of your jaw, lips moving against yours. When he speaks, his voice is soft, gentle, and deep- "Mmmm, I could kiss you forever." He murmurs against your lips, his thumb tracing soft patterns upon your neck, as if mapping out the shape of your pulse.

He takes your bottom lip between his teeth, gently nipping, then kissing again. He's pinning you against a wall, his body trapping you against it, his hips against yours.

Another kiss, deep and hungry, tongue pressing against your lips in an almost desperate demand for more of you. Uvogin doesn't speak, his mouth busy, claiming, exploring.  His hands roam up your back, pulling you flush to his chest. "You're so perfect," he mutters in between kisses, his voice husky, heavy with a desire he seems unable to control. One hand slides into your hair, holding your head in place, his body pressing you down, holding you in place against the wall.

His lips travel down your jawline, across your neck, teeth nipping and tongue soothing in a pattern that is both maddening and delicious.

Wing

Wings tongue slips between your lips as he draws you in for a kiss. His hands grip at your body, pulling you close, pressing you close until you can barely move. His head tilts slightly to the side, lips moving at a slow, torturous pace. He seems to drink you in, savoring the taste of you. He's gentle, oh so gentle, and yet at the same time he can't bring his lips away from yours. "Please," he whispers, his voice a low growl when he pulls away just enough to speak. "Please don't let me go, not now. I haven't seen you in weeks."

Wings arms are wrapped firmly around your waist, pulling you tight against him as if he'll die if he lets you go.

He presses his body close to yours, his head leaning on your shoulder. He's desperate for a moment of peace and your presence, and yet he knows that you could leave at any moment. "I won't." Wing grip around you tightens at those words. He inhales shakily, his body shuddering. His breath brushes over your neck, warm against your skin.

"Say it again." He demands, lifting his head to look up at you. Despite his firm tone, his eyes are soft, almost pleading. He's desperate to hear it from you, for you to reassure him.

"I won't leave you." When you promise him that, he releases a shuddering breath. "Thank you."

[citrus-writing]

How do you think the Phantom Troupe members will react to the reader almost passing out while having sex with them?

// Yandere phantom troupe members react to darling nearly passing out during sex with them // 

I kept the reason darling nearly passed out vague, since the yanderes wouldn't know the reason, and because one isn't specified. ( However, my assumptions when writing these were something related to fear or nervousness, weakness or pain, or a pre-existing medical condition or some sort- so these can be read with those scenarios in mind, but doesn’t have to be. ) 

Warnings: nsfw, dub-con / non-con, sorta somnophilia, some of these are fluffy and sweet but some are a little bit dark 

---------------- 

Yanderes that are worried about you, immediately stopping what they had been doing to comfort you and make sure you’re ok. 

Chrollo, uvogin, illumi

Chrollo- 

Chrollo is so romantic and caring towards you, he always takes great care and precision in caring for you- from undressing you to preparing you for him, he’s diligent and incredibly in tune with your needs and desires. 

He kisses down your body with fervor, mouth hot and tongue insistent at all your weak spots, hands following close behind, trailing down your body as well. You’re perfect- soft and beautiful and all his his his. He’s always enamored with the sounds you make, nearly overwhelmed with the pleasure he always gives you, he always loves the face you make, face all flushed and eyes hazy with pleasure. 

That’s why it catches him so off guard when he notices the way you seem less steady; even while laying down, it’s obvious you’re growing dizzy, disoriented, face becoming slightly paler. Your hands grip at the sheets, knuckles nearly white from the force. 

“My love, are you alright?” he asks, stopping whatever he’d been doing to give his full attention to your face and your words. He can't hide the worry in his voice, nor the worried expression he wears. How could he even think to hide such things when you’re so unsteady in his arms. 

“Do you need me to stop?” he soothes- he won't mind if you do need to stop, or slow down- after all, you’re the light of his life, everything he does is for you. Besides, he’d never turn down the opportunity to dote on you and take care of you. 

Uvogin- 

Uvogin is aware he can be overwhelming- from the overzealous roughness of his touch to the sheer size of him, he knows that sex with you can be overwhelming for you, and, if he’s not careful, even painful. That’s why he’s always so careful with you, doing his best to go slow and take good care of you- you, his darling. Because he adores you, and he needs you to enjoy the things he does to you. He needs to see your mouth fall open in a moan so loud it’s nearly a scream, he needs to hear the way your scream out his name. 

When you start to become overwhelmed, body growing shaky and fingers and thighs trembling, he eases up immediately, slowly coming to a stop. Had he gotten too caught up in the moment? Had he gotten a little rough with you? He’s gotten used to watching for signs of discomfort in you, always a little too aware of the way you struggle to take him, so he notices immediately when you start to feel out of it. 

“Hey, you alright?” he asks you. “Was that too much?” he knows he caught your discomfort before it could get bad, with you already looking like you're doing a little better. You’ve stopped trembling so much, face growing a little less flushed, eyes returning from the edge of teariness. He runs a comforting hand through your hair, down your back, pulling you close to him. “I’ve got you, you’re alright.” 

Illumi- 

Of course illumi notices when you start to act distant, nothing ever gets past those wide eyes, especially not when they’re so focused on you- on your face and your body and those sounds you make that make him so hot he can hardly stand it. The first thing he notices is your sounds, growing less so pleasured and more so desperate in a way that almost sounds like pain, and is definitely discomfort. 

“Darling?” he asks, not yet letting up on the motion of his movements, “is it too much?” it’s hard for him to tell how you’re feeling at any given moment- after all, he’s mastered being able to push through any discomfort, but you haven't, you’re so sweet and gentle compared to him, and he needs to remind himself of that often to avoid pushing you too far. 

You nod weakly, a little embarrassed, and a little nervous to disappoint him. He stops his movements instantly, as if you had stopped him yourself. His eyes watch you as you take a moment you steady yourself, obviously trying to gather the strength and composure to explain yourself. And he’d let you explain, but not right now. 

“Don't speak, let me get you something to drink, and help you get cleaned up.” he knows by now you wont fight him on this, when he made up his mind about something it was made. He hates the thought of you in pain, especially from him. Whatever he did to overwhelm you, he’ll make it right. 

-----

Yanderes that don’t stop, either too caught up in the moment or simply uncaring if you do pass out- after all, they’ll take care of you. 

Feitan, phinks, nobunaga, shalnark 

Feitan- 

You feel too good- wrapped around him like a vice, squeezing so tight. It makes him almost dizzy himself, so when he watches your eyes grow hazy and your body starts to tremble, he thinks very little of it. Maybe even thinks it’s good, afterall, he loves knowing he has an effect on you. 

It takes him a minute to realize how unsteady you are, not dizzy with pleasure necessarily but more so dizzy as you grapple with the edge of consciousness. “Too much?” he asks, voice tight, as he continues to push into you. He watches you nod, shaking hands reaching out to him to steady yourself. 

He lets you tangle your arms around his shoulders, lets you seek out the sensations you need to keep you grounded, but he doesn't stop. He slows down, so slow he’s nearly stopped, but feitan continues to roll his hips into you in a desperate attempt to not let this end. Even just this is more that enough- benign buried to the hilt inside you is perfect, how can he complain when you’re so fucked out that you can hardly stay coherent. 

“So good for me.” he whispers as he forces you to take it. The pace is slow but so so deep, and he watches your face with an intensity that doesn't help you calm down at all, but a part of you really wants to be good for him, so you fight not to struggle against him as you struggle equally hard to stay awake. 

Phinks- 

Phinks always struggles to hold back, especially with you- his beloved darling, but he’d been so sure that he’d been doing a good job at not going too rough, not fucking you as hard and fast as he wanted to- and god, he wants to. 

It catches him off guard when you look up at him with such hazy eyes, lip worried between your teeth, clearly overwhelmed and uncomfortable. Fuck, fuck. “Hey, you’re alright.” he soothes, shifting his weight to free a hand to push your hair away from your face. Looking closer, he can see the telltale signs of being near losing consciousness- the sweat, the paleness, the trembling. He hates that it isn't an immediate turn off- he hates that even with you so uncomfortable he desperately needs to fuck you through the orgasm that he’s sure is going to tear through him. Just a little more. 

“Stay with me, stay with me.” he encourages, looming over you and arranging you into a better position, one where you can relax completely against the sheets. It makes him feel guilty, knowing even now he wont stop, but the way the new position seems to help you eases that guilt a little bit, enough for him to breathe a sigh of relief and continue to rut into you. “fuck, just a little more.” he soothes, watching as you nod nearly incomprehensibly. 

Your perfect, he’s sure he’s close- was even before you started to get hazy from it all, but the way you lay back and take it- so willing, even now- has him fucking into you with a reckless adandon. 

Nobunaga- 

It takes nobunaga a minute to realize how out of it you are- after all, aren't you meant to be hazy, shaky, absolutely desperate? Aren't you meant to be unable to form words, too far gone in the pleasure he gives you? His delusional mind thinks so, and he does love the sight of your flushed cheeks and your desperate gaze. 

“Can't take any more?” he asks you, watching the way your face changes as you struggle to comprehend his words. You shake your head, desperate to convey how lightheaded and uncertain you feel. “What’s that? Use your words.” he encourages, but quickly fucks himself into you harder, deeper, faster, and any words on your lips fail, all you can manage is a choked gasp as you feel any thought youd managed to scrape up disappear back into the void of your mind. 

You look so good he can't help but kiss you- his lips pressed seamlessly to yours, tongue invading your mouth. It can help your overwhelmed state, he’s sure, but it does serve to pull more of those cute little noises from you, swallowed up in the kiss. 

“Got nothing to say? That’s alright, I know what you need.” nobunaga knows your body well by now, he knows how to bring you closer and closer to the edge, he knows how to make you squirm and whimper, and he’s certain that he’ll be able to push you over the edge of consciousness as well. The very thought of being allowed to fuck your unconscious body has him fucking into you with renewed fervor. 

Shalnark- 

Shalnark notices fast the way your breath grows ragged, the way your eyes grow teary. It makes him smile, he’s too much for you, already got you on the edge of consciousness and he’s just getting started.“You’re so cute.” he’s not going to stop, not when you look like THIS, fucked out and desperate and teary eyed. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips, charmed by the way you clumsily reciprocate, likely on instinct, because it’s obvious your mind is somewhere else- or, more likely, your mind isn't anywhere right now. 

Shalnark never has trouble taking more from you than you can handle, and this is no different, in fact, this is even more so the case because you can't seem to beg him to stop. “take it, take it.” he accentuates each word with a particularly deep thrust into you, forcing a desperate cry from your lips each time. You seem a little too far gone to really decide if you need to stop or not, so he’ll decide for you, he doesn't mind. “don't worry baby, you’re alright.” 

Even if it’s too much for a cute little thing like you to handle, shalnark knows he isnt hurting you, and that gives him all the certainty he needs to continue fucking into you like he so desperately wants. And if you lose consciousness, it will only further establish the power he had over you, allowing him to truly do anything he wants with you. It’s perfect, so please, feel free to let go. “you can let go if you want. I’ve got you.”

[shalscumbunny]

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

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

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

Phinks:

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

Uvogin:

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

Franklin:

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

Feitan:

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

Nobunaga:

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

Chrollo:

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

Hisoka:

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

Illumi:

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

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

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

[r0semaryt3a]

Loved your dating hc's!!! They all felt really convincing and in character 💕💕 How do you think the pt (preferably chrollo, uvo, phinks and feitan if thats too many) sleep next to u?? are they cuddlers, kickers, white noise users, midnight bathroom breakers, snorers or whatever else?

Ahhh glad to hear it!! I’ve only really wrote a lot about Chrollo so I was worried the others were OOC-

I’ve only really been thinking of writing for Chrollo, Feitan, Phinks, Shalnark, Machi and Paku but given as you asked for Uvo I’ll add another onto that list! (Small spoiler warning: I love the troupe, but they’re all messy sleepers and I won’t be convinced otherwise!)

Chrollo

He definitely has a night mask, incense and all that to help him doze off. Chrollo is a chronic suffer of predormitional insomnia: his mind runs a million a minute, man is NOT used to sleeping a healthy 8hrs.

You can guarantee if Chrollo falls asleep before you (a very rare event) you’ll find him stiff as a log. He falls asleep in whatever position he’s in and will stay there until he wakes up. Honestly, it’s a wonder he isn’t ridden with all sorts of issues (get him a chiropractor one day.)

On the other 364 days a year when he falls asleep after you, well aren’t you just the perfect little teddy bear! His arms are always wrapped around you tightly.

If you happen to be a light sleeper? You’ll definitely wake up in the middle of the night to his face buried into the crook of your neck; fingers tapping away at your abdomen as his breathing settles, the smell of lavender drowning out any other senses. So definitely a cuddler. (I will die on this hill)

Sometimes he might even pepper your neck with kisses if he notices you’re awake.

If you’re a heavier sleeper? You better get used to waking up in the morning under a vice like grip, a mat of black hair brushing against your cheek and -whether he’s awake or not- you’re not getting out of it

Big spooner, you could be twice the height of him and he’d still demand it.

Not much of a snorer, maybe the few light hitches here and there but overall he’s sound asleep.

Most nights when Chrollo can’t sleep, he’ll sit up with a book in one hand and his other arm wrapped around your sleeping form. Sometimes he’ll doze off and sometimes he’ll only be brought away from his book by your stirring.

On particularly bad nights, where his insomnia truly flairs up, you’ll have to listen to a plethora of podcasts or “soothing sounds” for him to actually sleep. And yes, you’ll have to listen to them. There’s something innately intimate about having you indulge him in his interests: makes it far easier to sleep.

Feitan

You cannot tell if this man is awake or asleep 9/10.

“You sleep. I watch.” Kind of deal, he has many things to preoccupy himself with: like watching you! (In a: ‘someone takes even one step in this general direction, you’ll have a lullaby of screaming to doze off to’ kind of way)

It’s not that he can’t sleep, it’s that he doesn’t want to. Feitan sees sleep as a waste of time, it bleeds days into days and he could be spending that time well, instead of sleeping.

Everytime he wakes up he mentally kicks himself for having made such a waste of time

That’s where you come in! Hope you’re willing to have a human sized cat latched onto you every single night! Big spoon, little spoon, doesn’t matter to him: you’ll wind up with him clinging onto you for dear life regardless.

Despite this fact however, you’ll never know the plethora of times he wakes up in the middle of the night, painstakingly, detaches himself from you and paces around the room feverishly. Muttering about who knows what, head flicking to every angle at even the minutest of sounds. Feitan doesn’t like not being alert: loathes it, so this is his way to regulate the nerves that rest often brings.

Feitan is a very light sleeper, any slight movement may set him off and cause him to completely switch back on (sleep maintenance insomnia hits him hard).

He doesn’t strike me as a snorer but definitely isn’t quiet, sounds like a Guinea pig sometimes. A total teeth chatterer. Seriously, you’ll wake up and hear a light ‘Tch Tch Tch’ from wherever the hell he’s grabbing onto you tonight.

Will not ever wake up in the same position he falls asleep in (not that you’ll ever know that fact, he’s always looking over you long before you’re awake.)

Trust me: you’ll know if Feitan has a bad dream. His claws (yes claws) will be digging into you, his hold on you tightening with a particularly sharp ‘hiss’ of his teeth.

Likelihood is: his sleeping patterns will leave more marks on you than any other activities ever will. But, don’t worry! It shows he cares (I think?).

Phinks

Kicker, oh he is a real kicker.

You’ll wind up waking up off the bed more times than you will on it.

On and off cuddler, there’s very few times that you’ll fall asleep cuddling but by god is it a wild guess as to whether you’ll wake up doing so.

Phinks will fall asleep with his back towards you, teetering off the edge of the bed. And, In the matter of minutes can have one leg half way across the bed, the other swung over the edge, left hand across his face, right on his chest, mouth slack and whole body at a 45* angle.

Other times, you’ll find a knee digging into your back as he’s (very awkwardly) cuddling you from behind.

Surprising the masses (not): he snores. Has a whole box of nose strips to stop this.

Despite all of these, interesting, idiosyncrasies. The few times you fall asleep cuddling: he’s an entirely different sleeper. It’s like he takes a page out of Chrollo’s book and doesn’t move an inch (aside from rolling, he’s a total roller).

The snoring won’t stop though.

Doesn’t need anything to help him sleep, his head hits the pillow and he’s out like a light. Real heavy sleeper as well, you could roll him off the bed with an almighty thud and he’d still be sound sleep. It’s actually fairly endearing.

Will sleep for 6 hours, wake up for 1, roll around for a bit, settle down and then sleep for another 2.

Best pray you’re a heavy sleeper: that’s all the advice I can give you.

Honestly? It’s like sleeping next to a bear, vaguely adorable as much as it has you fearing for you life (and place on the bed).

Uvogin

If Phinks is like sleeping next to a bear, Uvo is a bear hug.

You’ll find your place settled neatly against his chest, as if he’s one of those comically large backpacks (like Johnny’s from Hotel Transylvania). Don’t worry about anything, truly, you’ll be snug as a bug in a hug.

Surprisingly, not a snorer (when sober at least). Often needs noises to fall asleep to though. If there’s not calamity afoot then Uvo tends to get angsty; you may have to deal with the occasional outburst.

So, you often have loud games or shows blaring in the background as he rests his chin on your head. Uvo doesn’t fall asleep easily, meaning there’s very few times that you can turn the noise off before you head to sleep yourself. You best get used to sleeping to the volume of a rock concert! (with his constant screeching he blew his own ear drums)

Invest in earbuds of some kind, it’ll help the both of you.

The LOUDEST snorer when drunk. I mean LOUDEST. Cotton buds line your bathroom cupboards for whenever he drinks, you’ll have to pick out bits of cotton on particularly bad nights.

Absolute hoarder. Whether it be you, a pillow, the duvet, he’ll have it and he isn’t letting it go. It’s honestly quite comforting, his presence isn’t exactly small, so with this hoarding comes a sense of security.

He’s surprisingly gentle as well, it doesn’t feel infantilising, more like you’re something from a heist that he doesn’t want to break.

Can fall asleep anywhere there’s noise. It’s a skill, you’ll find him contorted in a corner just so long as the TV’s humming in the background. Don’t think of moving him, you won’t.

Probably takes a good few trips to the loo during the night. Which, unfortunately for you, given your nightly position: leads to you being woken up every time he does.

Shalnark

Not a fan of cuddles, like at all. Shalnark is quite the squisher when you’re both up and about or even just lounging on the covers, but when it comes to sleeping? He’ll do it, sure, but he won’t be too thrilled most nights. There’s the odd time that he’ll be uncharacteristically for the idea, pulling you close and running off a mile a minute! He doesn’t tend to actually sleep those nights, more ramble on like you’re at some two person sleepover; the sentiment’s there nonetheless.

Despite this fact, he’s very specific with having at least something pressed up against his back -little spooner- and will get agitated if this requirement isn’t met.

Podcasts, lots of podcasts. Shalnark has about ten to twenty playlists that he’ll be sat scrolling through: trying to find the one he wants to sleep to. You’ll never be privy to these of course, he tends to keep a pair of headphones shoved in some drawer.

Oftentimes, before even attempting to sleep, he’ll be scrolling through some forum or busy doing: something. Though, for some reason you don’t remember any of his chronic scrolling…

Bathroom breaker, it’s nothing annoying but you’ll never not notice the shift in weight, as he swings his legs off the bed and heads to the bathroom. He’s always careful not to make too much noise, which winds up causing more in the process.

Has a small assortment of glasses of water that will accumulate through the week, all filled to different volumes. He swears he’ll drink them! He never does. It just ticks that little box of ‘just incase’ and he can’t sleep without it. Same with most other amenities.

Late sleeper, this man will never be up before you. That may be attributed to the fact he never falls asleep before you, but who’s to say!

Machi

The fact you don’t have single beds is both a gift to thank her for and a curse. Machi is a sleep tosser; she tosses a lot.

You tend to sleep on opposite ends of the bed. This is both in part to her overall distaste of sleeping together and the kicking. Oh boy, the kicking.

You know how the immune system can sometimes misinterpret things as threats, causing autoimmune reactions? That Machi when asleep. It’s like a subconscious instinct, a defence mechanism is you will; it’s certainly a good one! It’s just, not always needed. Especially not when you wake up at 4:34am after a particularly sharp jab at your side.

Though, some nights she’s stiff as a board! Not one movement or peep. As if death herself had stole Machi away.

She’s not a particularly picky sleeper, Machi can rest to almost anything. However, there is one thing that seems to expedite the process. Fire - whether the simple crackling singing off in the distance, or the chocking scent of smoke pervading the air. It seems to calm Machi, there’s no foreseeable reason for it. She just, likes fire.

L i g h t sleeper, you can’t count the amount of times she’s jolted awake, swearing she heard something. Windows, doors and anything else that might throw the room into disarray or stir up noise are a must close.

Sleep mutterer. It’s a rare occurrence, but Machi will sometimes have whole conversations with the air. You’re usually both asleep when these conversations take place (there was once that you overheard one to its completion. You’ll never tell her of course).

Pakunoda

Incense galore.

Seriously it’s everywhere.

Pakunoda needs some form of soft scent to lull her to sleep. This often comes in the form of floral scents, but can branch off into other soothing smells. Her particular favourites include cedar and amber.

You wouldn’t describe what you and Pakunoda do as cuddling, per se. She treats you more like a support pillow than anything else. Arms wrapped around you tightly and chin resting upon your head.

Neither of you will be able to move an inch throughout the night. Pakunoda has a very specific pre sleep schedule that she’ll run through every night (including final bathroom breaks, cleaning and small talk) and after that, it’s lights out. It doesn’t matter if you wake up and need something: she’s out cold. You might be able to escape, if you can pry yourself out. But just know: getting back in the same position will prove twice as difficult.

Not a snorer, hell, you can hardly hear her breathing most nights. If it weren’t for the subtle rise and fall of her chest against your back, you’d question if she even was.

Up long before you are, usually has one half of the bed already made (haphazardly as not to disturb you.)

I had a lot of fun doing this one; might return to it for further Troupe members at a later date, so cheers for the ask Anon! (Little irrelevant thing I just want to mention for future reference: if any PT ask includes Hisoka or Illumi please specify as such.)

[starlitiris]

How the Phantom Troupe would respond to your kids asking where babies come from

the title says it all

this is gonna be a little short I made this in like 5 minutes, reader was kept gender neutral

and I included hisoka yw hisoka fans <3

AND TO THE PERSON WHO ASKED ME TO DO THE LOVE BITES HEADCANONS I SEE YOU AND I WILL WORK ON THAT SOON IVE JUST BEEN BUSY THIS WEEK

WARNINGS: none!

Chrollo

explains exactly how babies are made hopefully with minimal detail

Nobunaga

“Uuuhhhhhhhhhhh”

Feitan

“… uh. I dont know.”

and then walks away or immediately changes the subject

he knows. he knows where babies come from.

coward /j

Machi

“… ask your other parent”

Hisoka

“Good question! Let’s go ask your [parental term you prefer to be called].”

he’s doing this to you on purpose. not because he cant tell your child where babies comes from.

Phinks

“Uhh, shit, um. So- so when uh, two people love each other VERY much, uhh…”

Shalnark

“…”

He’s desperately calling you and asking you what the fuck he’s suppose to say

Franklin

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

Shizuku

blinks

stares

“…”

“… the stork?”

Pakunoda

probably has the best response right next to Franklin honestly

gives the same speech as Phinks but without stuttering, swearing and sweating

Uvogin

“… Nah, I’m not ready to have that talk with you yet.”

[illubean]

Bit of a long winded fluff/crack headcanon request: Illumi, Feitan, Chrollo, and Phinks developing the most infuriating crush on a gn! Reader who is just a lazy sopping wet dog of a person?

Reader will nap anywhere.

Will just kind of flop where ever they are when under too much emotional distress and refuse to move

Hell, sometimes they to be physically scruffed and carried/dragged to do social stuff and does the whole liquid cat thing where they go entirely slack just to be difficult. Overall reader's pretty reliable and will (begrudgingly) do just about anything the guys ask if incentivized, they're a surprising understanding and active listener, a highkey terrifying and precise combatant, and could probably be bribed to do anything from cuddle and never speak about it to horrible violations of the geneva convention for snacks and a nice nap afterward. They're incredibly easy to please and not that most/any of the guys would ever admit it but not being near them makes everything feel exponentially worse.

But they're also stubborn, incredibly low energy, and frankly seem a bit stupid on closer inspection to the point the guys are probably questioning "no- god- fuck- why???"

HXH Men with Lazy!Reader

Characters: Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor, Phinks Magcub Type: Crack, Headcanons, Gn!reader

IM NOT DEADDD

Warnings: mentions of violence, mention of pregnancy like once

Illumi Zoldyck

if you didn't have any special nen or whatever he would've killed you by now out of pure frustration

you were set up in an arranged marriage because of your status, and at first Illumi could not care but surprise surprise he caught feelings eventually

and it was upsetting.

1) he was feeling something 2) IT WAS FOR YOUR STUPID ASS

ALL YOU DO IS LAY AROUND THE MANTION AND EAT HOT CHIP

you remind him of Milluki sometimes and that just makes him even more mad

every time you guys are sent on missions together he actually has to drag you because you refuse to do any type of physical labor

if he's feeling particularly nice he'll throw you over his shoulder instead

at this point Illumi is only sent on missions with you to make sure you actually do it

because otherwise you would never be anywhere on time...

you're able to handle your opponents just fine you just...rather not

which is part of the reason Illumi gets so irritated with you

you have so much potential yet don't utilize it

at this point the only solution he can think of is knocking you up (if ur capable of getting pregnant) and hoping the kids don't come out as lazy as you...

Chrollo Lucilfer

with him being the leader of the phantom troupe aka your boss you should probably listen to him without hesitation but your ass does not gaf

he's learned how to deal with you

he keeps candy in his coat pocket just as a bribe if you don't feel like doing something he's asking of you

when he runs out you begrudgingly do what he asks anyways but not without complaints

Chrollo doesn't really mind having to physically move you places himself, considering you do most of his bidding anyways

but that's only because he likes you <3

if you were anyone else he would leave them wherever and whether they get up and follow him back to base is up to them

and because he's so lenient with you you feel bad sometimes and end up sucking it up and walking yourself

he doesn't mind your laziness as much as the others because you get your job done and could probably beat him up if you wanted to so who is he to tell you how to live your life?

he never sends you on missions alone, he needs to be there to make sure you actually do it (no he doesn't he just can't be away from you for too long)

Feitan Portor

this man is on the verge of killing you.

what the hell is the point of Chrollo keeping you around if all you do is lay around doing nothing and talk back when asked to do something??

he swears you act like a 5 year old boy sometimes

when he needs something from you he will threaten physical harm but its actually just empty threats

theres no fighting within the troupe and no matter how much he wishes he didn't, he likes you

and surprisingly, his threats are incentive enough to get you up and moving

most of the time...

other times when you refuse to move or just flop onto the floor he is grabbing you by the ankle and dragging you the rest of the way to wherever you need to go

he doesn't care if you get scratched and bruised up, if you wanted to avoid that then you should've just gotten up and walked by yourself

sometimes to get you to do things the rest of the troupe offers you things on Feitan's behalf

"Hey if you get up and beat this guy's ass with us Feitan will carry you all the way home instead of dragging you" "Like hell I will"

after seeing you in action for the first time Feitan is even more upset that you're so insufferably lazy

you are quite literally one of the most valuable troupe members but you??? never want to follow orders?????? this is literally your job

you're lucky he likes you because if you were anyone else he'd leave you where ever you decided to lay down and let you die there

Phinks Magcub

this man is going to argue with you for DAYS

at this point he feels like you refuse to do anything just because it makes him mad

hes another one who tries using incentives but he never follows through with what he promises

when you ragdoll he will begrudgingly carry you wherever you need to go

this guy battles your laziness with loud, annoying and never ending complaints

and tbh? it actually works most of the time

he gets so annoying that ur like "FINE FINE I'LL DO IT JUST SHUT UP ALREADY"

if you catch him on a good day he'll carry you/give you a piggy back ride without complaints

sometimes he uses your laziness as an excuse just to hold you <3

sry this one is so short I cant think of anything

[uvobreakmylegs]

Rework

vampire!Feitan x werewolf!reader (with a side of Feitan x werewolf!Phinks)

🎃Happy Halloween🎃

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping, captivity, blood, depictions of violence, death, murder, gore, body horror, stockholm syndrome, implied future poly relationships

Word Count: 13.7k

“So, what are you two going to be doing at that castle?”

The taxi driver's question pierced through the silence within the cab as he looked back to where you and Feitan were sitting, looking the both of you over in the rear view mirror. It came out of nowhere, as over a half hour ago the drive had begun with little chatter from any of you. It made you nervous, and you couldn't help but gulp as you kept your eyes on what you could see out the window. It would be better to pretend that you hadn't heard him.

Feitan didn't like it when you spoke to other people, after all.

When neither of you answered, the driver went as far as to turn his head around. Ultimately his gaze ended up on Feitan as he was sitting behind the front passenger's seat, making it easier for the driver to keep his eyes on him.

“Well?” the driver asked.

Feitan finally responded to that just to say “it's private.”

“Private business at a castle. That's a new one,” the driver commented, laughing a little to himself after.

Feitan didn't reply.

Luckily the driver seemed to get the hint that neither Feitan or you were in the mood to talk, and he returned his attention to the road as the taxi steadily continued up the woodland path.

You felt relieved when he stopped pressing, mostly because you didn't want him to be injured or killed. You had found yourself wanting to like the driver simply because of the hat he wore – it reminded you of your grandfather, as he wore that same style of pointed newsboy caps that your grandfather would wear when he went out, and thus you associated the cap with him. So you were feeling warmly towards the driver, as silly as it was, and you hoped that any sort of incident could be avoided when it came to him.

At least Feitan wasn't prone to random acts of violence against other people for no reason.

For the most part, anyway.

With the chatter in the cab now ceased and nothing else to focus on, you kept your eyes trained on the view outside of the window, watching as the car drove past brightly colored falling leaves and the trees whose branches were slowly becoming more exposed every time the wind blew past them, stealing away more of their leaves in a sign of the upcoming winter.

It made for a pretty view, and keeping an eye out for the various colors that came from the different types of trees kept you occupied on what would otherwise be another long and boring journey. Unlike Feitan, you didn't feel comfortable attempting to read while in the car as you were too worried that trying to do so would make you ill, so the options you had for entertainment were limited.

It wasn't much, but at least it was nice enough to keep your mind on.

It also kept your attention away from the luggage that sat diagonally from you in the front passenger's seat.

…. You shouldn't have even had that thought. Because just like that, the temptation was there again, and you needed to force your neck to stay in the same position. All to avoid your gaze straying in that direction. It was made harder due to the fact that the large burgundy suitcase was just within your peripheral vision. The very edge of it taunted you, it seemed. It would be so, so easy to keep your attention on that case for the entire journey, staring at it as you allowed the anxiety and desperation to fill your mind.

What if, this time, they wouldn't work when you got them back? What if they were ruined now and you were left like this permanently? Was there any accounting for that? Did he have a way to restore you if that happened? Or would you be in this state forever?

Would he even still want you if you couldn't go back to the way you'd been before?

You did your best to keep those thoughts at the back of your head as you focused on the outside. Worrying about it wouldn't do you any good, and as much as you wanted to blame it on the fact that the case couldn't fit in the trunk due to the wheelchair, directing your attention over to where it sat would only annoy him.

… How was Feitan doing, mood wise?

You tore your gaze away from the window to glance over at the man who sat next to you, finding that his focus was still on the book he had opened at the very start of the journey, several hours ago before the taxi when you had gotten on board the train the day prior. By now he was more than halfway through that book, though given that you were on the last legs of your journey, he probably wouldn't be able to finish it before the cab reached its destination.

He clearly noticed the way you stared at him as he glanced over in your direction.

Upon making eye contact, you gave him a small smile.

Feitan stared at you for a moment.

Then he ultimately chose to return to his book, turning the page once he picked up where he'd left off.

He was in a pretty alright mood, then. Though you followed suit and returned your attention to the window immediately after. Even if he was in an okay place, it was better not to press your luck, as it could be incredibly easy to annoy him.

That was one thing you had learned about him: he didn't punish you without a reason. Though his rules and demands were tiring and hard to keep up with sometimes, he had never ordered anything that was so unreasonable you were automatically doomed to fail. Some of the things he made you do were difficult, yes, but never had he forced you into something that was a losing battle from the start.

At least in regards to your captivity and the way he treated you, that was one thing to be grateful for.

And technically, with what was happening right now, you weren't being punished: he just didn't trust you enough during travel. Surely in the future things would be different. As long as you remained on good behavior and kept him happy with you, things would definitely be different, and hopefully different in a way that favored you at least somewhat.

Just keep your attention on the outside, you told yourself. Take note of all of the different fall colors that you were lucky enough to catch sight of and don't even think of what you would be going through in the upcoming days.

There was no way to put it off, but you could at least enjoy the current moment, even if it did feel somewhat stifling within the small space of the car.

The taxi continued to climb through the uphill path. At one point the forest that was directly next to your window vanished, the trees dropping off in favor of giving you a view of the entirety of the wilderness around you as the taxi drove along the edge of a cliff. The sight helped to calm your nerves a bit as you managed to relax a little more. Once the taxi left the cliffside and reentered into the denser forest, you again kept your focus on that, and you had an easier time keeping your mind off of the little worries that usually plagued you.

There was nothing to be done about any of them, after all. Not in this moment.

A sign that you were entering an older part of the area came when the driver took a turn to the right, and suddenly the ride became a lot more rough as the road turned bumpy. There was one moment where were it not for the security of your seat belt, you would have been thrown directly into Feitan. As it was, you found yourself lurching about uncomfortably regardless, and you needed to keep your grip on the handle of the door as you waited for the ride to become smoother again. The taxi driver made some joke about the rough terrain during that time, and Feitan made no response to him, though it seemed that the conditions were too much for him to continue his book as he soon shut it and put it away.

At some point during all of that, the blanket that you had tucked around your waist began to fall to the floor. Yet you didn't notice until it had fallen completely.

With that, your lap was exposed. Or rather, what was left of it. If the driver were to glance behind him, he would see what you had been so futilely trying to hide from him:

The stumps in the middle of your thighs where the rest of your legs should have been.

The fact that the rest of your legs were gone was still a sight that you struggled with, and seeing the way others would look over at you with questioning glances whenever you had the rare trip out in public made you feel worse. No one was ever rude enough to ask, but just to have that attention on you made your skin crawl. You didn't like it. Not one bit. If the impossible happened and anyone saw beneath the bandages that were hidden under the rolled up legs of your pants, they would have seen the sutures that held your flesh together and the still fresh wound that refused to fully heal.

But no one would ever get that close.

Feitan would never allow it.

Upon realizing that the blanket had fallen, you reached down, straining yourself somewhat in order to pick it off the rubber mat that covered the floor. Despite it being slightly dirty, you placed it back on top of your lap, once more securing it and this time keeping your hands on it just in case it fell again. Given that the taxi was now beyond the roughest part of the old road, that seemed unlikely, but you felt better holding onto it.

As expected, Feitan made no comment to you, but you could tell he was watching you. Without something else to keep his attention, his eyes would generally move over to your form, keeping an eye on you regardless of if you were doing anything noteworthy or not.

Why was he so fascinated with you?

As often as you had wondered that to yourself, you had yet to come up with a sufficient answer to that question. There was no point in attempting to ask Feitan directly as you knew he wouldn't answer. You had tried that once. A long while back, after your rage from being taken captive had died out and you were left with nothing but apathy, you dared to ask why he wanted you, of all people, and his only response had been to stare at you in that same intense way that he always did.

All this time later, and you still had no clue as to what the answer to that question was.

But by this point, it was easier to accept this as your current reality. Things weren't perfect, but they weren't completely bad. Not like they used to be.

After ten minutes of travel on the now only slightly bumpy road the roof of the small castle within the forest could be seen through the front windshield of the taxi. Five minutes after that, the yellow cab was pulling up to a large iron gate that was left locked, requiring Feitan to step out and unlock the large, gated entryway so the cab could gain access. Feitan watched you from the outside as the driver pulled into the rounded courtyard of the aged building. Creeping vines covered a majority of the base of the structure, the reddend leaves all piled upon one another while the thin branches reached upwards as if with the intent to cover the entire wall. Despite how old the building was by now, there was no sense of decay upon looking at it. The nameless castle within the wilderness remained strong, and it seemed certain that only some otherworldly force would be capable of bringing it down.

A part of you really enjoyed the place; it was nice to look at, and certain areas within the structure were cozy during certain times of the year. But there was another part of you that felt a wave of anxiety fall over as you looked at the building in its entirety and your hands began to clench at and fiddle with the blanket over your lap.

Being in this place would be much more enjoyable if Feitan bothered to bring you here outside of the timing of the full moon. Sadly, he never seemed inclined to do that, so you were forced to associate the castle with the awful few days you consistently experienced here.

Maybe that might change, you told yourself. Though you wouldn't hold your breath on that.

The cab driver got out, and both he and Feitan headed towards the trunk to unload the wheelchair and the other luggage that had been placed in there. When the trunk opened, the view you had of them from the backseat was obscured.

With Feitan not able to keep as close of an eye on you, you took the time to steal a glance at the burgundy case in the front seat.

It looked the same as it had at the beginning of your journey: an unremarkable but large suitcase that was slightly heavy from the contents it held. But from your vantage point, it didn't appear that anything was wrong with it. It didn't look damaged, nor did there appear to be any leaks spilling out of the seams of the case.

That had you feeling a little better, though your hands continued to nervously clench at the blanket.

When your door was opened and the wheelchair was brought out, Feitan didn't allow the driver to assist him in moving you. When you unbuckled yourself and moved to the edge of the seat to make getting you out easier, Feitan was the one who picked you up. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you allowed him to move you from the interior of the cab out into the courtyard, and you stayed in his embrace for only a few moments before he placed you in the wheelchair that stood not far away.

The blanket fell again, this time onto the leaves that covered the old cobblestone beneath you. As you were being set down, the driver made a move to get it for you.

Feitan beat him to it, and the shorter man gave the driver a look that seemed to make him nervous as he took a few steps backwards.

That was a slight overreaction, you quietly thought to yourself as Feitan shook out the now dirty blanket.

But as long as that was all that happened, it didn't matter much.

With everything out of the trunk, it had been swiftly closed, as had the passenger's door once you had been removed from the vehicle. The driver adjusted his cap as he watched Feitan hand you the slightly cleaner blanket, and you were quick to pull it back up around your waist. When the driver's side door had been opened, you couldn't recall.

In the middle of all of that, you heard the driver speak again.

“All right, guess that's it, then.”

You looked up to find the taxi driver had turned around and placed one leg inside his car as he prepared to get in and take off.

That was it? But-

The case was still in the front seat.

And he was getting in without taking it out.

He was going to leave with it.

That fact seemed certain when he settled into the driver's seat.

“NO!”

You yelled so loudly that it startled him, and he turned his head just before Feitan materialized next to the driver's side door, holding his hand against it in order to keep it open.

“Wh-what's wrong?” the driver asked, his head swiveling as he looked to the both of you.

“Front seat,” Feitan said.

“O-oh. Right….”

Dutifully, the driver exited the vehicle and walked around it in order to retrieve the case, though he didn't bother to hide the alarmed looks he gave the both of you as he did so. Feitan glared at him the entire time while you clenched at the armrests of the wheelchair. You weren't going to feel good until you saw that case out of that car.

The sound of the passenger's side door opening seemed to echo within the space of the courtyard, and you breath hitched when you saw him reach in and pull out the suitcase.

Be gentle with it, you wanted to tell him.

The driver circled around the cab, seemingly in an attempt to avoid Feitan. As a result, he chose to approach you, and handed the suitcase to you instead. You caught the way Feitan's eye twitched at that, yet you chose not to acknowledge it as you grabbed at the case being offered to you.

With a sigh of relief, you held it tightly against yourself, ignoring the weight and the awkwardness that came with holding it.

“Sorry for upsetting you,” the driver told you, though his tone didn't make him sound very sorry. The way he looked at you clearly indicated that he felt as though you had been overreacting.

It looked like he was going to say something more, but Feitan chose then to step in.

“Your job is over,” he told the driver, “leave.”

“Fine, fine.”

The driver headed back towards the driver's door of the taxi, stepping in as he had before. But just before the door closed behind him, you heard him mutter the word “assholes.”

The ignition turned and the engine rumbled, and within a few moments the cab rolled out of the aged courtyard, once more jittering horribly as it drove over the old, cobbled road. Feitan followed behind as the car exited through the entryway, and once it was completely clear, he closed both sets of iron gates shut and just as swiftly locked them. The key to the gate was soon back in the safety of his pocket, and the vampire stared at the vanishing cab before he turned around and set his sights back to you.

The case had already been set upon the ground in front of you, your hands now in your lap as you kept your gaze to the side.

You messed up.

You weren't supposed to talk to other people. Feitan didn't like that. Even though you had only said one word to that driver and it was just to keep him from driving off with the case, you had still done what you shouldn't have and spoke to him instead of trusting that Feitan would realize the man's mistake and prevent him from leaving.

Feitan's footsteps sounded against the cobblestone, and you straightened your back slightly, though you still kept your gaze averted.

If you apologized right now, would he forgive you?

It was worth a shot.

“I'm sorry,” you told him.

“Sorry?” Feitan repeated.

“For disobeying you,” you clarified, your hands wringing the blanket as you continued “I didn't mean to, I just – no. Never mind. I'm sorry.”

Stopping yourself from pointing out that he was about to leave with the suitcase was a good move, you felt. Doing that would have been interpreted as making an excuse, and that was never going to end well for you. It was better to acknowledge your failure and leave it at that.

“Hm.”

Feitan was standing in front of you now, staring down at you while you shifted uncomfortably beneath the weight of his gaze. You weren't sure what to expect from him in this moment, but you told yourself that whatever it was he said or did, you needed to go with it.

What a stupid thing to think. Of course you needed to go with it – what other choice did you have?

Your internal dialogue was interrupted when Feitan spoke.

“You did speak to him,” he began, “but this once, I'll overlook it.”

Your neck snapped up so you could look at him, uncertain if you had heard what you thought you had and wanting to know if he was being genuine or if this was some way to lull you into a false sense of security before pulling the rug out from under you.

Looking at him as he was now, it didn't feel as though he was particularly angry.

Feitan continued.

“He was going to drive off with it, after all. He's more in the wrong than you are.”

He then cocked his head as he looked at you before he asked “don't you agree?”

You waited a moment before you nodded your head in agreement, saying “yeah.”

That was all to be said on the matter, as Feitan then turned his attention to the suitcase you had set down. His dark eyes looked it over before going back to you, and he pointed to it with a single pale finger as he asked a different question.

“Do you want them back now?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. Then you looked back down at the suitcase.

The answer was yes. Of course you wanted them back now. You'd never wanted them taken in the first place.

….. That sort of answer wasn't what Feitan would be looking for though, would it?

With your hands wringing at the blanket once more, you answered “only….. Only if you think I should have them back now.”

“Hm.”

The action after your response wasn't immediate, and you were left to sweat nervously in front of him as you waited for some sort of sign from him. He could tell you were nervous as well; his hearing was good enough that he could hear the way your heart began to beat frantically when you felt too much time had passed.

When he did choose to act, it seemed like that yours had been the correct answer, because Feitan reached over to stroke his fingers through your hair, petting you in the way he only did when he was pleased with you. Considering the trouble you had first believed yourself to be in, the action came as a relief. Not that it lasted long, as he pulled away soon after.

Without another word to you, he leaned down, lifted the suitcase by the handle, and walked around you as he made his way to the large doorway.

You bit your lip and clenched at the blanket once more, your shoulders sagging as you accepted his decision, even though it frustrated you that he had decided on that. It was being taken away from you again, the only option you had was to accept the unfair situation.

Maybe he was more upset over your outburst than he was letting on.

When you were certain that he was out of earshot, you let out a slow, sad sigh.

At least you had answered correctly, you told yourself.

Not long after Feitan returned for you, and given the age of the structure you found yourselves in and the lack of accommodation for the wheelchair, he needed to carry you up the steps and through the doors before walking along a familiar path through the castle, down a few hallways and up a single flight of stairs. Soon enough you had been placed in the room that would act as your bedroom for the remainder of your time here, and Feitan left you on the bed before exiting the room to get the rest of the things that had been left outside.

He wouldn't stay here long once that was done, probably. Once that was done, he would leave for the night, not coming back until morning. He had things to prepare for.

All of it had to do with the night of the full moon that was fast approaching.

You felt compelled to turn your head then, the tall glass of the window that overlooked your bed giving you a good view of the sky. You found what you were looking for in an instant: the waxing moon, still hanging low due to the earliness of the evening, but still visible over the tops of the trees. Within a few days, it would be full.

Once that happened, you would change as you always did.

Hence why you'd been brought to this place: for the isolation. Feitan wanted a controlled environment for you as you waited for the full moon to come and bring about your transformation. When you would change into what could only be described as a monster. Ravenous and violent, you couldn't be allowed anywhere near a large population. During the time that followed your transformation, you would be completely out of your mind, and the only thing that would drive you was instinct; instinct to hunt down and devour anyone within your immediate vicinity.

The thought of all that made you shudder, and you reached back to pull the curtains over the window to hide the sight away.

Such a thing was useless, you knew, but it made you feel better.

Late into the evening of the following day, Feitan brought you down into the main kitchen of the castle, specifically the one with the fireplace that was especially nice to spend time in during the winter. When the snow outside and there was a large fire going, it made for a cozy feeling that was pleasant.

Though you doubted whatever happened here tonight would be in any way nice.

But then again, it could be something good. Feitan didn't seem upset with you as he placed you upon a chair that stood near the unlit fire. With the exception of your outburst at the cab driver, you couldn't remember the last time you had done anything to genuinely upset Feitan.

His temperament just made it so hard to tell if things were okay.

Feitan kept silent after leaving you at the table. He didn't stay in the room long either, leaving almost immediately as he stalked down the hallway. The place where you sat allowed you to watch as he stopped in front of a door that led down into the cellar, the aged metal of the hinges creaking as he pulled it open before he slipped down into that darkness. The door shut with a heavy thud behind him, and you were left alone.

You let out a shaky breath.

Something was going to happen. All you could do was hope that it wouldn't be too bad. After all, you haven't done anything wrong, you once again told yourself, so you haven't done anything to warrant cruelty.

You repeated that in your head over and over as you did your best to calm your nerves.

It was sad how often that was the only solution you had for your issues.

The cellar door opened again with the hinges creaking for a longer period of time as Feitan was forced to open it wider than before. Though again it shut with a similarly loud thud as Feitan let it go once it was through. The noise of the hinges combined with the echo that accompanied it through the aged hallway was unpleasant, and you flinched as the sound grated at your ears. Not that you had much time to focus on that, as you quickly noted that it sounded as though Feitan was carrying something.

One quick glance at him and you saw what was in his hand: the burgundy suitcase.

You tore your gaze away and found yourself sitting up straighter again, your hands gripping at the edge of the chair as you stared at the empty fireplace while your heart began to beat wildly in your chest.

He could hear that heartbeat.

He knew exactly how anxious you were as he approached.

Feitan was soon upon you, standing in front of the chair you occupied with the case still in hand. As was expected of you, you looked up at him from where you sat, staring back at him as you waited for him to say something.

Holding up the case a bit, he asked “do you want them back?”

“…. Yes.”

Things were silent between the two of you then, your heart continuing to beat erratically while you kept your grip on your seat. You felt like saying 'yes' was the right answer, but there was always a chance that you were wrong. Whatever it was, Feitan was choosing to drag this out, his eyes focused on you while you knew that he was aware of how much you were panicking internally the longer this moment lasted.

You would accept it if he decided not to give them back. You would be disappointed, yes, but like those other times before, you wouldn't argue or fight him on it and would instead simply accept his decision.

Cooperating with him was the fastest way to get what you wanted.

Feitan then made his decision.

With one swift motion, he dropped the suitcase in your lap. Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt the weight of the suitcase against you once more, holding it tightly as you looked back up to Feitan to make sure you had his permission.

He had already stepped away, pulling out a different chair from the table so he could sit in front of you before he also took his place, leaning forward and resting his arms on his legs as he watched you.

Feitan wanted you to open the case.

You were more than eager to do so, your fingers going to the clasps that held it shut as your heartbeat hadn't slowed even a little. No longer thrumming with anxiety, you were now shaking from anticipation. What was yours was finally being given back.

Wasting no time in undoing the clasps, you threw open the case and felt relief upon seeing what was inside:

Your severed legs.

They were folded neatly within the case, along with a few towels tucked in at the sides to keep them from moving about too much for whenever the case was being transported.

The relief you felt upon seeing them was immediate and you wasted no time in beginning the process of reattaching them. Setting the case on the table, you went to work on the bandages that covered up your thighs, tearing them off with ease until your flesh was exposed, and from there, you began to tear out the stitches that had been placed at the end of your thighs to keep the wounds from bleeding out.

Not that you would have died even if all of your blood had left your body.

The process of removing the stitches was more strenuous than removing the bandages, and you couldn't help the small noises of pain that came from you as the thin thread was torn out of your body, ripping through the skin when you pulled hard enough. But just as quickly as you had removed them, those injuries were beginning to heal, the small wounds on that part of your skin closing up and mending with no trace of there being any stitches to begin with.

When all of the stitches were removed and lay in pieces on the floor beneath you, you were left with the open wounds at the end of your thighs, bone and muscle exposed while blood began to drip down onto the surface of the floor alongside the torn up stitches. The excess skin at the end of your legs which had been used to patch you up like a band aid now hung loosely, waiting to be reunited to your legs that still sat in the suitcase.

Now for the next part which would take longer but wouldn't be as painful: putting your limbs back on.

Reaching over to the case, you grabbed one of them at random. It turned out to be your right leg. Despite feeling that you were in a slightly weakened state after dealing with the stitches, you were able to handle the weight of your own leg easily as you pulled it out of the suitcase's confines and slung it over onto your lap.

Feitan continued to watch, still saying nothing, but you were able to feel the interest he had in this part. You didn't quite understand why he was so fascinated by this; he was also immortal, so shouldn't he be used to seeing such things with himself?

You kept that thought to yourself and instead focused on the task at hand.

Lifting up one of the flaps of skin with one hand, you used the other to position your limp leg up against your open thigh. Like putting puzzle pieces together, you grabbed the end of your leg with both hands as you started the reattachment process by putting the bones of each segment together. Once you had positioned it correctly, you felt it when the two connected.

The sensation had you shudder and you needed to grab onto the nearby table to keep yourself steady as everything else followed suit with the bone of your femur.

Marrow mixed back together as muscles reached out for one another, ends connecting in the same way the thigh bone had melding together as they were supposed to. Veins and your nerves did the same, and you gripped the edge of the table tightly as the process left you out of breath. It wasn't that it was painful, just uncomfortable. Like the sensation of a limb falling asleep only for the feeling to come back once you moved it. It was just that this was ten times as intense as that, and no matter how many times you went through this, you doubted that you would ever truly get used to it.

You stole a glance at Feitan then, peeking up at him to find that his gaze was just as intense as you imagined it was. He was concentrated on the way your muscles repaired themselves, on the way the blood from the injury dripped down onto the floor until it didn't, finally stopped when the ends of those veins found one another and sealed themselves up.

When all of the internal components of your leg had been repaired, you only moved your hand to smooth out the flap of flesh that had remained pulled back. Now with everything else done, the skin of your leg was finally allowed to mend itself as well.

Within moments, your right leg was firmly back on you, and you took the time to stretch out and move your foot to test that everything felt right. When that appeared to be the case, you slowly pushed yourself back so you were sitting up straight again, and then you reached back to the case for your left leg.

At least the process was a bit easier the second time around.

By the end of it, both of your legs were back, reattached with no sign of having been chopped off in the first place. You, however, felt exhausted. Sweat had collected on the back of your shirt and you were laying your arms and your head on the table, breathing out from your mouth as you calmed down after the experience.

It was fine now. It was over. You did it.

The sweaty feeling was gross, though, and you desperately wanted a shower.

That thought was enough to incentivize you to sit back up, though that too was a struggle as your arms felt weak. Still, you made yourself do it, and you turned to look to Feitan once you were done.

He was no longer leaning forward in the chair; now he was resting his back against it with his arms folded across his chest. One of his eyebrows raised when you turned your attention to him, and he asked “want something?”

“Just to get a shower,” you answered.

He nodded, and you took that as permission to leave the room.

Not that leaving was easy. How long had you been without your legs? You weren't completely sure, but however long it was, it was long enough that you were incredibly unsteady as you brought yourself up to your feet, and you needed to brace yourself against the table, the chair you had been sitting on as well as the wall as you made your way out of the kitchen, taking small, soft steps as you hoped the feeling of walking would soon become normal again.

“Having a hard time?” you heard Feitan ask.

“I'll be okay,” you replied, “just need to get used to it again.”

“Hm.”

Pausing at the edge of the room to catch your breath, you made the mistake of glancing over at one of the tall windows at the other side of the kitchen.

Just like the night prior, the moon was in the sky despite the relatively early hour, and when you caught sight of it, you turned your head away, looking down at the floor and trying to will away the sight in your mind.

Feitan noticed.

“What is it?” he asked.

“…. Outside,” you answered.

He looked, and hummed when he saw the moon as well.

“Scared?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Why? Shouldn't you be used to it by now?”

After a long moment, you again nodded.

Feitan made a noise at that which almost resembled a laugh before he ultimately waved you away, telling you “get your shower.”

You nodded and exited the room.

The sound of the chair moving across the kitchen floor was loud, and once you had reached the door that led to the cellar, you heard him call out to you once again.

“I'll be gone when you get out.”

He probably wasn't looking at you, and he probably wasn't in need of any sort of response, but you nodded again anyway.

The ache had firmly settled in.

You were curled up on the bed, the sheets haphazardly thrown aside as it now felt too warm to keep them on top of you, but even if the cold set in again you weren't sure you would have the strength to reach for them again. Your arms hurt too badly by now, as did your legs.

You were hungry, too.

But as you spied the small refrigerator full of supplies that had been left for you, specifically for this predicament of yours, you had a hard time imagining you would be able to gather up the strength needed to crawl off of the bed and over to where it stood. You just felt too weak.

As much as you hated how it felt when you transformed into that monstrous state and the carnage that you had left in your wake more than once, you wanted it to happen just so this part would be over with already.

It would happen soon, you told yourself. Tomorrow, when the full moon would be in the sky, you would have your relief.

You began to feel cold again, but as expected, when you reached for the blankets by your feet your muscles protested vehemently and you were forced to bear with the cold as you placed your arms back down on the bed.

Ah, this part was always the worst.

You wanted food. You wanted a shower.

You wanted Feitan.

And by this point you were too far gone to find that feeling of yours to be wrong. Because once he walked through that door, you were fine again. The aches and the pains brought about in the period before your transformation would vanish the second you saw him, and the only thing you would be left wanting for after that was for him to be closer to you.

That wasn't how it had always been. In the months that followed your kidnapping, you were relieved that he was gone for that day and a half before you turned. It had been nice to get so much time to yourself, and you hadn't been afraid to show a sour expression when he came back.

You couldn't imagine doing that now. To treat him as though he were a pest that wouldn't leave you alone? Your mind wouldn't allow it. Not when you were in such a vulnerable state and you truly felt that you needed him with you. His continued absence during this time had set alight within you a yearning.

It was easy to wish that you could go back to before your time with Feitan, when the pains and the need for another's presence didn't even exist, when you had dealt with everything on your own.

But now, even if you went against your better judgment and defied him by running, it couldn't go back to that. He had done something to change you, and you feared that change was permanent. That you would always be longing for him and be happy to see him even when he returned covered in the scent of another.

He left you to spend time with someone else

For some reason, it bothered you. Both that he did so and the fact that you still didn't know who that person was. Those times at the beginning when you asked Feitan had refused to answer, and you had no wish to bring it up now as you knew he would only tell you if he decided that you needed to know.

As long as he came back, that was all that mattered.

That thought was what got you through the long hours that followed; when the sun finally set and the waxing moon rose, now only one step away from reaching the full moon state, you felt it begin to affect you. Knowing what would happen tomorrow night, the muscles beneath your skin began to loosen up as they prepared for the time when they would need to expand. The ache in your bones became more pronounced as they anticipated the way they would need to snap and grow, and your skin started the process of separating from the muscle beneath, all so it would be easier for when you would need to tear it away.

You hated it, but as long as he came back, you could deal with the pains, you told yourself.

The next day, after having spent all of those hours doing nothing but laying on your bed as you felt your body continue to prepare for the coming night, the sound of the lock clicking open had you shoot up from the bed, sitting at attention as your eyes were focused on the door, waiting for it to open.

Anticipating that you would see him.

The relief you felt when you saw that Feitan had indeed returned to you was immense, and all memory of the pain and longing you had gone through for the previous day and a half was forgotten as he stepped through the door, his eyes meeting yours before he looked you over.

No doubt you looked a mess, your wrinkled clothing and the circles beneath your eyes giving him some insight about the rough night you'd had.

As usual, he didn't comment on it. Instead, the vampire shut the door behind him before he headed over to the mini fridge, opening it to find that the food and water he had left for you were all untouched.

There was an ever so slight hint of a smile on his face when he saw that.

“Hungry?” he asked, turning his attention back to you.

Not feeling as though you had the strength for words, you responded by nodding at him.

Then come over and feed yourself

The words he had once told you at a different time echoed in your mind, and you gripped at the sheets, uncertain if he would have a similar response now. As usual, he noticed that reaction of yours, and for a few moments he watched you closely. Perhaps he was still deciding what treatment you would get today; no doubt he was going over the behavior you had displayed over the past month and deciding whether or not you had been good enough to deserve a bit of kindness from him.

Feitan made his choice when he took out a cup of yogurt from the fridge, pausing briefly after he closed it to grab a nearby spoon that had been left for you before he made his way over to the bed. When he pulled the seal off the top after he sat down, you held out your hands, ready to take the cup and the spoon from him so you could feed yourself.

The raised eyebrow and the annoyed look he gave you in response to that was surprising, and after a moment of him staring at you like that, you lowered your arms despite your confusion.

He wasn't just taunting you, was he?

You thought he might have been when he dipped the spoon into the cup, where it then seemed as though he was going to eat in front of you – he doesn't even need food, you dejectedly thought.

Then he turned back to you, the spoon raised up and hovering in front of your mouth.

“Open,” he told you.

You obeyed, and within a moment, he had placed the spoonful of yogurt into your mouth.

……

This…. This was horribly degrading. Your captor was literally spoon-feeding you.

After all of the hours you had spent wanting Feitan's presence with you, the irritation you felt at this one action was enough to break that spell, and you remembered all of the things that were so wrong about your situation. He had kidnapped you and had proceeded to train you as if you were an animal, teaching you to behave for him through punishments and rewards, all so he could get you here, to a place where you were so compliant that you didn't question or fight him on anything. Feitan wanted you to be dependent on him and he wanted you to be grateful for it.

You wished you could kill him.

As he pulled the spoon from your mouth to dip it back into the yogurt cup, you imagined yourself leaping on him and tearing his throat out. Gouging out his eyes. Smashing his head open against the floor. Biting off his fingers for having the nerve-

Feitan looked back to you.

The instant his eyes met yours, all of that fire inside of you died out.

He was strong; far stronger than you could ever hope to be. Even if you fought with all of your strength, you knew you would lose. Your rebellion would be ended swiftly and with more force than necessary, and the only thing you would gain from it was punishment. Many punishments, in fact. After he had spent so long to get you to this point, they would be harsher as a way to teach you the lessons you still refused to learn.

You didn't want to go through with all that again. Things with him were so much better now; why ruin that?

When Feitan brought the spoon up to your lips again, you opened your mouth and once more allowed him to feed you. There was no indication that he got any sort of enjoyment out of this, but the fact that he was doing so at all meant that he needed to be getting something out of it.

Feitan got up when the yogurt cup was empty, heading to the other side of the room to dispose of it.

That was when you spoke.

“Thank you, Feitan.”

Your voice was soft, but there was no way he hadn't heard you. Yet there was no verbal response on his end.

But when you glanced over to him and looked at his face, you caught sight of it again:

The barest hint of a smirk.

You had been hyperventilating for some time now.

With you locked away in the deep cellar of the aged castle, Feitan watched how you writhed about on the floor, breathing hard as you clutched at your head. Every now and then a twitch from a leg or an arm would jolt through your entire body and the pathetic noises coming from your mouth would only increase in frequency. Through your wailing and sobbing, he would occasionally catch words. Or rather, one word. One that you repeated over and over again.

“Please please please please-”

Feitan doubted you were trying to ask him to actually do anything – even if you were, there was nothing that he could do to relieve your pain. As content as he was to take complete control over your life, this was one aspect of it that was out of his hands. No matter what, once the light of the full moon hit you, you would transform. There was no getting around that.

He glanced up to the small window towards the ceiling, and he noted that it likely wouldn't be long until the moon came into view.

An idle thought came to mind – how was he handling it? – before his attention returned to you. And Feitan continued to wait, standing at the edge of the room as he watched what was the torment of your pre-transformation.

When the first rays of moonlight shown through the glass of the window, the result was violent.

Your entire body jumped, and the wails that had turned into quiet whimperings ceased as you were left speechless, your mouth hanging open and your eyes wide.

You began convulsing on the floor.

When you began to choke, you rolled over onto your back. The blood that had begun to block your throat spilled out from your mouth as hacked it out in violent coughs, and after a few moments, the red liquid that came from your mouth was accompanied by something else: your teeth. They came out in bunches, scattering as they were spat across the floor, one of them traveling far enough to bounce off the side of Feitan's shoe. Tears were streaming down your face again, this time accompanied by the blood that poured out from your gaping, bleeding gums.

The holes in your gums didn't stay empty for long, as Feitan could see the tips of the sharp, canine teeth coming through to fill up the empty spaces.

Then your bones began the process of rearranging themselves.

The way your bones cracked apart before they splintered back together filled the small room of the cellar, and he watched with no small amount of awe as you changed before him. Your limbs were becoming longer with the skin on top of them starting to tear apart as it no longer fit. Your face was going through a similar change as your skull broke apart, moving about as it changed its shape completely in favor of the form the moonlight wanted you to have. The skin of your face was tearing up as well as your nose and mouth began to push outwards, and more blood managed to come pouring out of your mouth as your gums were ripped apart by two long rows of sharp teeth.

By the time your hands began to tear away at your old skin, your mind was gone. Your eyes were wide and wild as you ripped yourself apart, showcasing the fur that had formed underneath. First your arms, then your torso followed by your legs; the skin was swiftly removed and tossed to the side as easily as trash. By the time you got to the skin that had once covered your head it was already in tatters, tearing further when your claws dug into it and ripped it off.

With that, your transformation was complete.

Anything that could have been identifiable as “you” was gone now. What stood before him was nothing less than a beast. With sharp teeth, long claws and powerful muscles that meant that few were capable of fighting or even outrunning you, you truly had become the monster that was the subject of stories that had been passed down through the ages, capable of decimating entire towns just to satisfy a primal bloodlust.

This version of you was breathing harshly, still affected by the trauma that had been the transformation process. But he was most interested in how you would react once you saw him.

Feitan knew very well by now that immediately after a transformation, werewolves had very little control over themselves. The first actions that would be taken were that of violence against anyone who was in their immediate vicinity, and if there was no one to be found, they would hunt for someone, anyone, to exact that violence on. Only then would anything resembling rational thought return to the shifter. After seeing the process so many times, Feitan had began to wonder if that was the result of the brain still catching up after the body had changed. The mindlessness seemed to indicate that, and maybe it was that act of taking a life that shocked the brain back into normalcy.

Though he also knew now it didn't need to be a life to snap you out of it.

He waited, his hands still in his pockets as he watched you collect yourself up from the floor, the blood still clotting your fur as you stood on shaking legs. He saw the way you sniffed at the room, but the scent of iron clogging your nose must have been too much, otherwise you would have noticed him by now.

It took you rising to your new, full height and looking in front of you before you noticed him, and you froze within an instant, yellow eyes growing wide as your fur stood up in shock.

Feitan's eyes met yours, and he waited to see what action you would take.

You stayed shocked for only a moment before your lips curled back to reveal the newly formed rows of canine teeth snarling at him as your ears folded back and your legs tensing as you crouched slightly.

One of aggression, then.

He tsked.

You lunged at him, claws extended and mouth open as you snarled-

Feitan hit you with the back of his hand.

The force was great enough that you were flung to the other side of the room, rolling over on the floor before you crashed against the wall. The hit made you yelp, and he had heard something crack beneath the force of his strike. Now you were cowering on the floor again, one monstrous hand clutching at the area where his hit had landed.

Had that been enough to wake you up?

Feitan again waited to see what you would choose. He was prepared that you may very well decide to keep fighting him, though at this point he trusted that you were past the point of fighting him through the whole night. From early on you recognized that forcing him to fend you off until the sunrise only left you hurting for days after, so these days it only took a few hits to knock the fight out of you.

When you pushed yourself back up and looked to him, your ears once again folded back. But not in anger.

This time, your form cowered against the wall as you bent your head low, letting out a small whimper as you did so.

A sign of submission.

That was better.

Your ears perked back up when he spoke to you.

“Come here,” he ordered.

A few seconds went by before you moved, shuffling over to him across the floor while still holding your injured maw, though he knew it wouldn't take long for that injury to heal.

Feitan couldn't help the smirk that made its way to his lips. Although you still weren't where he wanted you – ideally you wouldn't attack him at all – this was progress. Even in your most unstable form, you were learning what your place was.

When you were kneeling beside his feet, that same hand that had struck you now reached out to lay upon your head, petting the matted fur softly. You kept your eyes averted as he did as he pleased, your head still facing downwards.

“Hungry?”

That question of his made you look back up before you faced down again, answering with the smallest of nods.

He chuckled as he pulled his hand away, and he was about to motion for you to follow him out of the room when-

A wolf howl could be heard in the far-off distance, coming in clearly through the thin layer of glass that separated the both of you from the outside. You reacted, jumping slightly in place as you turned your head in the direction of the noise, your ears going back again in fear.

Feitan brought your attention back to him when he told you “don't worry about him.”

Then he motioned with his finger as he told you “follow me.”

When he began to head to the room's exit, you got up to follow, trailing behind him by a few paces.

It would be some time still before he would let you out to hunt. The way you had attacked him earlier was a clear sign that he couldn't let you out yet; if you were to get even the smallest taste of freedom from him, then you might very well try to run from him. And then all of his work would be set back and he would need to start again from the beginning.

As much as Feitan tried to be patient in the process, he didn't want to go through with all of that again.

Walking wordlessly through the cellar, he led you to a different door, one that had been padlocked from the outside. From inside the room, the sound of someone crying could be heard, though it was muffled by the heavy door. A few moments later a different voice snapped at the crying person, hissing at them to stop.

What followed after was tense silence.

Removing the key from his pocket and unlocking the door, Feitan pulled it open for you, revealing the half a dozen people he had gathered for you in the days and hours prior. One of the women in the room shrieked at the sight of you, and all of them began to cower in the furthest corner, all yelling at one another as they tried to push past each other in an effort to get away from you.

Half a dozen sets of eyes looked at you in fear, and that was enough to make you shudder in place as you stared back at the people in that room.

Yet you hadn't moved. Instead of going in, your yellow eyes looked to Feitan, who still held the door for you.

He nodded.

That was when you charged in.

The screams started up immediately as Feitan shut the heavy door behind you.

Waking up felt similar to the way your father's ancient desktop computer would boot up back in your childhood home. It had been the kind with the monitor that looked like a large square box, and while it would initially turn on at the touch of the power switch, it would take several minutes until it was actually operational, the screen staying black with little bits of text popping up before it would wake up. That was how you felt now. Your eyes were open and you were staring at whatever was directly in front of your line of view, but you weren't really taking any information in as your brain needed some time before it could function properly.

That memory came to mind first: when you were a child living in your family home and watching from around your father as he turned on his computer, waiting for him to get up and allow you to get online to play games on some website. It was so clear in your head and yet you couldn't remember what games you played or even what the website was called. That was enough to get you to huff out a small laugh.

It felt like a lifetime ago that you were there.

But now you were here, naked and sprawled on the floor of the cellar with the only source of heat you could feel being the sunlight coming from the window that hit a small portion of your legs.

You closed your eyes as you took in a deep breath.

Finding yourself on the cold, hard floor was normal now. It had happened so often that there was no longer any surprise when you came to and discovered that you had been left in one of those cellar rooms. Sometimes surrounded by the remains of your victims from the previous night, sometimes not. A quick look around the room showed you that you were alone, nothing else with you aside from the ashes that surrounded you from your change back into your human form.

Pushing yourself up to a sitting position, you idly thought that it was nice of him to bring you back here. Even if you still felt like shit, it was nice that he didn't leave you locked in that room he had taken you to last night.

You knew you had hurt people – more than that. You had killed them. While your memory of it was only bits and pieces, you knew that it happened.

And you also knew the night ended with you nuzzling your face into Feitan's lap while he was petting you softly.

Like you were a dog.

……

At least you were a dog that he treated somewhat well, as you noticed the over-sized sweater hanging from the hook on the back of the door. If he only intended for you to be his mindless beast that killed at his command, he wouldn't bother letting you have some dignity by allowing you to cover up your nudity. Even if, after you had slipped the sweater on, it showed off a lot of your bare legs that were still covered in goosebumps from the chill of the cellar. But at least all of the important parts were covered.

This was a consideration – a kindness – that he didn't need to show you. The fact that he chose to do so meant something.

…. You certainly hoped that was the case.

The heavy door opened easily when you pulled on it, and you walked out into the hall on unsteady legs, still feeling the affects from the night prior. You were so unfocused that it took you reaching the stairs to realize that there was a wailing coming from one of the rooms at the other end. Taking a glance back, it didn't seem as though it was coming from the room you had been taken to previously. So someone else was down here.

…. You couldn't tell if they were crying out of pain or if their cries were that of emotional distress. Perhaps from being kidnapped.

Perhaps from something worse.

Listening for only a few more moments, you turned your attention back to getting yourself up the stairs, putting your weight on the railing as you hauled yourself up.

You wanted a shower. Your skin always felt so weird after transforming, like there was an invisible layer of grime that you needed to scrub off before you felt you could do anything else. You would see Feitan after that was done, probably. He was never around when you woke up, but he would always be back once you left the bathroom. Though you often wondered where exactly he went off to, you didn't bother asking him.

Much like whatever was going on with that wailing person you were leaving downstairs, there were things he did that you didn't need to know about.

The door at the top of the stairs as another heavy one, but it too opened easily when you pressed against it. This time your walk was more of a stumble as you entered the first floor, holding onto the knob for a moment before closing the door behind you.

You felt a bit more light-headed than usual. What had caused that? Certainly you had eaten enough. Ah, maybe it was water. You couldn't remember when you last-

You turned around and saw a man standing in the kitchen at the end of the hallway.

All the thoughts in your mind went silent as you froze.

As you stood there in shock, you noticed that he seemed just as surprised as you were.

It was clear that he had showered recently as his blonde hair was still wet, and despite your senses still being out of whack, you caught the smell of his body wash that had all but just been applied. His height made him slightly intimidating, as he was far taller than either you or Feitan, and by looks of his muscles, he was clearly strong. Whether or not he was stronger than Feitan was hard to determine, but certainly he was far stronger than you. At least, as you were right now.

His golden eyes were wide as he looked you over, that expression of shock and awe still clear on his face as his gaze traveled downwards before it traveled back up again, those eyes meeting yours once again and this time maintaining the eye contact.

As for you, once the initial shock of seeing a random man in the kitchen passed, you were hit with another sense of shock as you realized something:

He wasn't human, was he?

Despite your senses being frayed, you were able to tell that much after a few moments in his presence. Like you and Feitan, this man was something else, one that only appeared to be human at first glance.

So then what was he?

Why the hell was he here?

What was Feitan going to do when he found out about this intruder?

And did this man plan on doing something to you?

Now you were scared to move, keeping your hand on the knob of the door next to you as your palms grew sweaty. A wrong move on your part could make this man snap, and with how weak you still were, you wouldn't be able to run far if that happened. The only guaranteed safety you had was if Feitan were to appear, but you had no idea where he was at the moment.

The man wouldn't stay like this forever – what do you do?

You didn't get a chance to consider your options further because the man's expression changed, and he smiled at you.

“It's nice to finally see you,” he said.

You blinked, uncertain what to make of that.

Your heart began to pound hard in your chest when he began walking towards you, however, and the grip you had on the doorknob was the only thing keeping you upright.

“I've waited a long time,” he continued, still walking towards you at a pace that attempted to be steady, yet it was hard to miss the pure excitement in his step.

“I really wanted to see you earlier but he's so particular on how things should be done. He really thinks that if you weren't ready when you met me that I'd manage to bungle your training.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words, not understanding what exactly what he was saying. Was he talking about Feitan?

The man stopped in front of you and noticed your confusion.

“… Do you know what I'm talking about?” he asked.

You shook your head.

To that, he sighed, looking disappointed as he gazed at you.

“Figures,” he grumbled, “though I really thought by now he would've mentioned something about me.”

You were listening to him. Technically. But now that he was so close, you were caught off-guard by something else: his scent.

It was the same scent that was always, always all over Feitan when he returned to you before you transformed. That of another werewolf, going through the same pre-transformation stage that you were.

… This was him?

He was like you?

He had known about you all this time while you were left in the dark?

The man was speaking again, and what he was saying came in clearer when you noticed how he was raising up a hand to cup your cheek.

“But that's okay. We have all the time in the world to get to know each other.”

Still uncertain as to what was going on, you kept silent. You kept still as well, even when his palm came so close that you felt the heat that radiated off of him on your skin.

When was the last time someone with a pulse had touched you softly?

He opened his mouth, starting with “I know we'll all-”

“Phinks.”

Feitan's voice called out, and chill ran down your spine. Based on the look on the blonde man's face, one ran down his as well.

The two of you looked to find the vampire standing at the other end of the hall, his hands in his pockets and his cowl missing, allowing both of you to see the full extent of his disgruntled expression.

“Not yet,” Feitan continued, his eyes on the male werewolf.

The blonde – Phinks, he seemed to be called – scowled before he looked back to you, pulling away and placing both his arms by his sides. But his hands clenched into fists after, and it was clear that he wanted to get ahold of you.

The blonde werewolf made no move of touching you, but he didn't make any move to back away from you, and when a few seconds ticked by like that, you saw Feitan's gaze narrow as his expression grew darker.

“Phinks.”

The warning in the way he said the man's name was even more clear this time, and even Phinks flinched slightly at the sound, gritting his teeth as anger was growing within him as well. It was clear that he didn't want to listen to Feitan, but he was compelled to do so.

With a deep sigh and something incomprehensible that he mumbled under his breath, Phinks turned away from you, heading back to where he'd been when you saw him before. He stopped when he reached Feitan, and from the way the two of them glowered at each other, there was some sort of argument that was silently playing out between them. One that Feitan was victorious in as soon after, Phinks' shoulders slumped downwards in defeat before he walked past the vampire.

Feitan then looked back to you, and upon seeing those dark eyes on you and the way he ordered you to leave without speaking, you jumped into action. With renewed energy, you turned and spotted a door that you knew led to a bathroom.

Perfect. You could clean yourself off and by the time you were done, hopefully whatever confrontation Feitan was having with this other werewolf would be over and you could go back up to your room.

Though technically you could've headed up the stairs that were only a few steps away from the door you had entered. Although by the time you thought of that, you were almost halfway done closing the door behind you, and if you changed course to do that, you might actually end up angering Feitan.

Better to just commit to this.

Only once you looked at the room you now found yourself in, you realized that you forgot that the downstairs bathroom didn't have a shower. Only a bathtub.

Oh well. You'd get clean either way, right?

You could pick up on the voices down the hall, recognizing both that of Feitan and Phinks. It was possibly an argument. Though you didn't try to listen in, instead heading over to the tub and turning the handles. Water immediately began rushing into the empty tub and all that noise blocked out their voices.

It took a few minutes until the temperature of the water was to your liking and the tub was filled, and when you shut the water off, you couldn't hear either of them anymore.

It was confusing; not knowing who Phinks was when he clearly knew you. Feitan knowing him and clearly not having any major issues with him considering that he didn't attack the blonde upon seeing him with you. And the thing Phinks had said, something about having all the time to know each other?

Just what was Feitan keeping from you?

You sighed before you slipped the sweater over your head, leaving it on the floor as you stepped into the tub, slowly lowering yourself before you were submerged up to your shoulders.

The next sigh that escaped you was one of relief, as you felt the tension leave your muscles once you had settled in the water. This was nice; nice enough that you felt safe as you closed your eyes, leaning your head against the rim of the tub while you let your thoughts drift away. Perhaps it was a little dangerous to be in the water when you were still feeling so weak, but you told yourself it would be fine.

Even if you did slip under, you no longer needed to fear death by drowning.

The moments of peace you felt lasted for some time, and you made no move to scrub yourself down like you had originally planned as you felt too content to bother now.

Then the door creaked open.

The daze you had been in was broken immediately and you sat up as you turned your attention back to the door.

Unsurprisingly, Feitan was the one who had walked in. When he shut the door behind him with a good deal of force, you found yourself cowering slightly as you worried what that might mean for you.

You sat quietly as he approached, his steps echoing off of the smooth surfaces of the bathroom until he reached the edge of the tub. Feitan's gaze flitted down to what he could see of you beneath the water's surface for a moment before he turned around and sat down on the edge of the tub. Oddly enough, his attention was on the door.

What was his mood right now? Your brows furrowed as you tried to figure him out. With him being closer now, you found that he didn't seem angry, or even annoyed as he so often was. If anything, he just seemed a bit perturbed.

All because of your encounter with Phinks? Why was it that bad that you met him? Were you even supposed to meet the other werewolf? Phinks made it sound as though you were, but with the way Feitan was acting both outside and in here made you wonder if your paths were never meant to cross.

Curiosity drove you to say something then, and you cleared your throat as you asked “did I do something wrong?”

Feitan glanced at you, then shook his head.

“Then…. Can I ask who Phinks is?”

Feitan turned his attention to you fully and you couldn't help but shrink down slightly into the water once the weight of his gaze bore down on you.

“You can tell, can't you?” he asked.

You nodded.

His eyes narrowed as he continued with “so why ask stupid questions?”

Your response to that was to look down into the water as you mumbled out a “sorry.” Feitan scoffed in response, but then he shifted himself on the edge of the tub so his body was turned more towards you. He wasn't saying anything more, instead once again choosing to stare at you.

Did he really need to do that when you were in the bathtub?

Unable to stand the silence and the irritation that came with his last answer, you meekly asked “was I not supposed to meet him?”

Feitan let out a small sigh as he said “not yet.”

With a roll of his head, Feitan looked back to the door one more time as he added “he's just too overeager. He doesn't understand patience.”

You nodded along like you understood everything that he was saying, although when you thought on it, previous experiences with Feitan had you thinking that it was rather hypocritical for him to criticize others on being patient. Especially when the vampire had been around for as long as he had, you would have thought patience would be something that he was a master of.

That was yet another thought in a sea of them that you kept to yourself.

Not wanting to leave things there, you spoke up again.

“Phinks seems nice,” you said.

Feitan looked over to you and his expression was blank.

“…. Is he not?” you asked.

“He's better now,” Feitan told you, “but you wouldn't have liked him at the beginning.”

“Beginning of what?”

“His training.”

The vampire dipped his hand into the water, moving it about with gentle motions as he added “the process of teaching him to be obedient took decades. Training you has been much easier in comparison.”

He said nothing else as he kept his hand in the water.

You stared at him as you felt slightly shocked.

… Feitan… The things he had done to you…. Had he also done them to Phinks? Were you not the first victim of his to be kidnapped and subjugated? Phinks was so much stronger than you, and he had honestly seemed to be just as strong as Feitan, if not more.

Yet Feitan had managed to gain control over him?

Part of you wanted to ask the vampire more while another part of you never wanted the subject to be brought up again. And luckily for that latter half of you, that part was the one that got its wish as you got the sense that Feitan didn't want to talk anymore. In his mind, no doubt, he had been nice enough to give you the answers you had sought. Answers to questions that you shouldn't have even had since it truly seemed you weren't meant to meet Phinks. Not this day. To push him further would be to cause distress for yourself. If not now, then in the future.

You desperately didn't want that, if just for the sake of your own well-being.

There was then a quiet that settled within the confines of that room. Neither you nor Feitan spoke, and the only sound that regularly battled against the emptiness in the air was that of the gentle sloshing of the water against the smooth sides of the bathtub. With nothing else left to say to him, you told yourself that you should continue as you were. Clean off that grime and refresh yourself as you had been intending when you first entered the room. If Feitan wanted to watch then he would. If he didn't, he would leave.

…. For some reason, you didn't want him gone yet.

What possessed you to do what you did next, you had no idea. But slowly, you moved, scooting up slightly in the tub until your head reached where Feitan's thigh was sitting on the edge. Just as slowly, you moved your head forward until your cheek was resting on his leg.

Feitan said nothing, nor did he make any move to stop you.

Eventually, you were resting the weight of your skull on his leg, the parts of your hair that had been soaked by the water getting his pants wet in the process. Still, Feitan didn't do anything.

He couldn't have been completely against it. If he had, he would have shoved you away or stood up and left. That he allowed you to do as you pleased meant that he couldn't have minded that much.

When he finally reacted, you held your breath.

Feitan pulled his hand out of the tub, and with the water still dripping off of his skin, that same hand came down to rest on the top of your head. How he felt about this became clear when he began to pet your hair with soft, gentle strokes. At that, you allowed yourself to relax more against him, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch, humming contentedly.

It was similar to what had happened last night.

The memory came back again: of you kneeling before him in a room full of blood and body parts while he stood before you, and a single hand had reached out to stroke the top of the head of your monstrous form, his fingers becoming stained with red as they moved through the blood soaked fur.

This time was much nicer, you felt. The clean bathroom and the soothing water were much better accompaniments to the rare gentle touches from him that you had come to yearn for. Because he only did as such when he was especially happy with you. As you thought over the events of the past few days, you counted three different times, including this one, where he had shown you such affection.

That was good, you told yourself. It meant you were doing something right.

Things would be easier if you did the things that would please him. If you made that your goal, then you could be happy. And already, you felt a fragmented part of you wanting just that: for Feitan to be happy with you. To please the ancient vampire that had decided to choose you. Please him and accept whatever he wanted, be it to keep you to himself or to bring Phinks into whatever it was the two of you had.

Or were you the one being brought into something he had with Phinks?

It didn't make much difference.

As long as your mind could break enough so that it could accept this life with Feitan, that was all that mattered.

[silverhypnos]

Among Teeth & Brimstones Summary: Meteor Grove, a large but isolated village, surrounded by endless forest is plagued with many misfortunes. Resources, criminals, but worse of all, there is a werewolf crisis. So many children were found dead with their necks nearly bitten off was a monthly occurrence. However, those who survived... well... Truth to be told, no one knew. Every kid who's been bitten has been taken away. Sarasa, a young girl who survived a werewolf attack only to be taken away was the final straw for the Troupe. Half of them became trained by a famous Werewolf Hunter, Renko for five years while the rest stayed in the village.

Things took a turn when Phinks was bitten, with Shalnark being his only witness. Fearful of Phinks sharing the same fate as Sarasa; Phinks and Shalnark decided to keep this secret between them. Trying to find a cure while keeping their friends protected in the dark. Unfortunately, their sudden change of behavior was misread by everyone else, and now... Feitan and Chrollo come home finding themselves in unexpected romantic drama.

Rated: Mature Status: On-Going Main Relationships: Phinks x Feitan, Shalnark x Chrollo, Background Relationships: Technically Phinks x Shalnark...

Additional Author's Note: Werewolf AU! Fake Dating! Another Phantom Troupe Monster AU! Happy Super Early Halloween, where I write monsters AU all year round!

[nynyhaha]

This might be a coincidence but Phinks and Feitan have each other’s numbers in the arm wrestling ranking.

PhinFei for the win!

[sullenhighstar]

Actor redraw!

Bonus:

I genuinely thought it was shalnarks actor so the first version is shalnark

[0asisbliss]

You must’ve done something to him because now he’s whipped. Wanting more and more from you. It’s like he can’t get enough of you. In the beginning he thought that maybe something was wrong with him, but after a while he got used to such a feeling overwhelming him. Now he gets off by such a feeling. No matter what he does now it has to revolve around you. You. His love and happiness.

Ranpo, DAZAI, Chuuya, (BSD)

Aizawa, All might, Present Mic, (MHA)

Giyuu, Sanemi, GYOMEI, (DS)

CHOSO, Yuuta, Yuuji, (JJK)

Shalnark, Uvogin, KURAPIKA, Chrollo, Feitan, Phinks, Illumi, (HXH)

Luffy, ACE, Law, Sanji, Shanks, (OP)

Aizawa, All might, Present Mic, Denki, Kirishima, Midoriya, Shigiraki, (MHA) or any of your other favs.

Whipped

[hhighkey]

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

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

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

For eight months you'd been his. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The basement was cold. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man's screams. 

Your ears ring trying to drown the screeches out. 

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

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

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

"Please- just kill me "

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

"No."

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

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

"Go to hell," 

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

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

You weren't watching. 

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

So his focus was on you. 

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

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

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

"Not watching." He hissed. 

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry."

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

"Are you going to kill me?"

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

"But my room?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sat on the bed. 

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

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

"Relax. Won't hurt you."

You gripped the sheets tighter, "Okay."

"Don't believe me."

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

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

Huh? "I- can go out?"

"With me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

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

"Feitan?"

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

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

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

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

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

"What."

"Are we..?"

"Don't understand."

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

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

"Okay."

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

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

-

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

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

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

"You look... happy." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

Breathe in. Out.

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach plummeted. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SLAM. 

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N."

You don't respond.

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

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

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

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

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

"I thought you regretted it." 

"Never."

"I feel.. dumb." You said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gonna fuck you. All mine." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yours."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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