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depravitycentral · 1 year

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Yandere! Feitan Portor NSFW Profile

Yandere! Feitan Portor x fem! reader

Tw: mentions of non/dub-con, stalking, masturbation, kidnapping, spit, drool, lots and lots of cum, Feitan is gross and icky and comes in your conditioner I'm so sorry, seriously this one is pretty gross I apologize now, bondage, ropes, blood, period sex, consumption of period blood, Stockholm Syndrome, a few mentions of reader having pubic hair, mentions of premature ejaculation, Feitan has intimacy issues, a touch of sadomasochism, dry humping, blindfolds, begging, edging, overstimulation, there's a lot going on, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 12K (oh my god)

HABITS:

Even amongst the Troupe, Feitan is particularly emotionally stunted.

Of course, he knows about relationships, about the intimacy that ensues - he’s never personally fucked anyone, but he knows how it goes, what it’s like (at least, in theory), how it’s supposed to feel. He’s just never wanted to - his libido is actually quite low, and although he’s spent nights tossing and turning in bed, cock throbbing and aching for attention, he’s never felt the urge to find some random woman for a fun, stress relieving night.

Sure, he’s jerked off more times than he can count, and he’s been to more strip clubs with Phinks and Uvogin than he’d care to admit. He’s been around it his whole life, even from a young age as a child in Meteor City - so yes, he knows about sex.

He’s just never been able to tolerate someone long enough to consider sleeping with them, much less actively wanting to sleep with them. And yet, once you step into his life, Feitan finds himself uncomfortably aroused by the idea of letting his hands wander your body, of seeing the way your pretty face would scrunch up in pleasure, of hearing your little moans and yelps when he kisses you and sinks his teeth in just a bit too hard.

Once his obsession with you forms and he begins moving past some of those initial mental barriers, Feitan finds himself beginning to crave you intimately, physically, sexually. And, just as the rest of his feelings for you, he hates it at first.

He hates how just a simple thought of you has his body growing hot, the collar of his jacket uncomfortably tight as he shifts his weight, trying to ignore the way blood is steadily rushing south.

He hates how just a simple look from you, with your eyes all innocent yet sultry, makes him gulp a bit, his fingers twitching at his side. He doesn’t like how he can’t control his body’s reaction to you, but it’s not like he can help it - it’s instinctual, primal, carnal, as if his body is recognizing that you’re the chosen one for him to fornicate with, as if you’re the only one worthy of his sexual attention.

Feitan doesn’t like this change in developments much, but quickly he finds himself at a crossroads; he can spend nearly every night staring at the black of his ceiling, laying in bed and glancing down at the massive tent in the sheets centered around his crotch, or he can give in and get working, letting his hand run along the length of his cock all with you on his mind.

He doesn’t feel guilty about masturbating to you, per se, but there is this weird sense of embarrassment that sits heavy in his chest as he exhales shakily and spreads the bead of precum along his shaft. There is this weird feeling like he’s doing something bad, something naughty, as if you’d be disgusted if you were to ever find out.

It makes him feel strange, but he almost likes it - it’s a thrill he gets, particularly to the knowledge that you’d probably be disgusted to know he wrings himself dry (often more than once at a time) nearly every night, all with the mental image of you naked, writhing and stuffing your fingers into that warm, wet, oh so fucking tight cunt of yours.

He’d never admit, but he’d give anything to be your fingers, to feel the sensation of being inside you, even if it was only for a few moments. (That’d probably be enough to make come the first time he fucks you, anyways.)

Once he gives in to getting off with you in mind, Feitan finds himself fucking his fist frequently, frantically, his hips thrusting into his hand faster and rougher the longer he goes on, the longer the image of you crying his name and clenching down around his cock plays behind his eyelids.

He wraps his hand around his girth and immediately starts violently pumping his fist up and down, until he’s eventually stuttering your name and coming, sending spurts of cum flying up onto his chest, the white staining his pale chest. It feels good, or at least good enough to satisfy him for the moment, up until he ends up palming himself through his pants the next night.

It’s a never ending cycle, and frankly it leaves Feitan frustrated – it’s just not enough. The thought of you is more than enough, really, to functionally get him shooting ropes of cum out of his swollen, needy tip, but there’s this part of him buried deep inside that needs more, something to make him feel like it’s really you he’s touching and fucking.

It’s not enough to be the one touching himself, when he knows it would feel different if it was your soft hand, your warm lips, your tight walls. He needs something more, something more intimate and personal and you in order to really get himself off, to really feel connected to you in the way he craves.

And so, Feitan makes a discovery one evening that changes everything; he has a penchant for sneaking into your room after you’ve fallen asleep, the dismal security of your apartment something he’s simultaneously grateful and irritated with you for. He likes to just watch you sleeping, those dark eyes taking in every detail about your unconscious form, all exposed for his viewing pleasure without you even knowing it.

He always shuffles closer the longer he watches, his feet taking just a tiny step every once in a while, just because he can smell you better when he’s closer, see more detail in your skin and features, and it’s only after he’s crept his way right up to your side that he notices it. He should be disgusted, he thinks, when he sees the bit of drool slipping past your lips, your slumber deep enough that you haven’t noticed the wet pool of it against your pillow.

He should be grimacing and scooting away, revolted by something so gross, but instead Feitan finds his eyes getting caught on the way your lips are just slightly parted, the wetness against your chin shining ever so slightly in the pale moonlight.

He doesn’t really know why he does it, but soon his fingers are reaching out, lightly brushing against your lip, a sharp inhale audible as he feels the warm wetness of your saliva against his fingertips. He’ll retract his hand, staring with narrowed eyes, before slowly, carefully bringing his fingers to his own mouth, slipping them past his lips, letting his eyes flutter closed because he’s tasting you.

It’s euphoric, your spit sweet and leaving the perfect tang on his tongue, and suddenly Feitan’s reaching into his jacket pockets, frantically searching for the vial he keeps on hand, just in case he needs a bit of blood from a victim or enemy. He gulps when he finally pulls it out, wiping at it to rid it of any remaining blood, before carefully bringing the glass up to your face, positioning it right below your chin so that the next bit of drool to drip out of your mouth lands in the vial rather than on your pillow.

It’s a slow process, filling it up, but Feitan’s committed, spending every night sitting beside your bed, watching you sleep and seeing the glass slowly fill with your drool, collected all for him. And when he finally has enough? Well, it’s easy to transition from slowly dipping his fingers in the vial and letting his tongue glide over them to letting the spit cover other areas of his body, even if the mere idea makes him scoff while a blush settles over the bridge of his nose.

It’s not until one night, though, that he finally takes the plunge, crossing a line he can never recover from. He’d been particularly pent up, his cock absolutely swollen, aching and desperate for release, and his fist was just not enough. Even as he pounded away, biting his lip and furrowing his thin brows, the pleasure just wouldn’t come.

His eyes wander from his ceiling down to his dresser, zeroing in on the glass vial sitting so innocently, so provocatively, practically taunting him to come closer. He’s snatching up the glass before he can really think, sitting back down and tearing the top off, his fingers moving faster than he can process.

Soon, he’s dipping them in, swirling them a bit to make sure they’re really covered, but instead of bringing them to his lips, his hands travel south - gripping onto his cock, the wet coolness making him hiss through his teeth. He brings his wrist up, your saliva slowly smearing along his shaft, leaving it wet and twitching in the cold air of his bedroom, visibly throbbing as he runs his thumb over his slit, making sure to absolutely drench himself with your spit.

His eyes slide shut, head rolled back slightly as he moves his hand at a steady, painfully slow pace, trying to calm his heart rate because this is so very different from before. It’s different, if only because it’s you - your saliva is letting his hand move smoother, your saliva coating his skin, you helping him to get off. It makes him feel dizzy, the familiar coil in his stomach appearing embarrassingly quickly as he speeds up his fist, images of you playing behind his eyes.

He can’t help but imagine you on your knees before him, staring up at him with those pretty eyes, all wide and glassy and yearning, with your hands tied behind your back and your lips parted, pink tongue lolled out and waiting for him to fill that tight throat of yours. He grunts, squeezing at his tip, digging his fingers back through the vial to refresh the supply of your drool, and in his mind he’s slowly tracing your lips with the head, smearing his precum along your skin as you clench your thighs together and hum, practically begging him to facefuck you.

Feitan hunches forward slightly as his wrist moves even faster, hand flying up and down his shaft, wet noises accompanying every jerk all caused by the excessive wetness he’s coated himself with, the feeling of your spit exactly what he’d be feeling if he was actually stuffing your little mouth, dark hairs tickling your cheeks and nose as he pushes your head all the way down, so that his tip is nestled down your throat.

He lets out a guttural groan at that, a strained noise that makes him grimace, but he can’t help it - his orgasm is approaching, and he can’t help but listen to the wet squelching noises and imagine your gags and sharp breaths accompanying them, his toes curling. It feels so good, a building warmth in his naval that only grows bigger, stronger, more insistent, and all too soon he’s imagining the way you’d present your face to him when he pulls out and strokes himself over your face, cum spurting from his tip and landing in rivulets all along your cheeks, lips, nose, even getting into your hair.

You’d look so good, all messy and out of breath and covered in him him him, just as he is you.

He bares his teeth as he feels himself right on the edge, his fingers clutching onto the vial so tightly he nearly shatters it, his cock bobbing and throbbing, balls clenching as he curls in on himself, small chants of your name mumbled under breath and then he’s coming, cum spraying everywhere as he gasps, hips bucking involuntarily into the air, chasing after his fist with every pump, aching to be releasing inside you, where it belongs.

He takes a moment to come down from his high, chest heaving and eyes wide, staring down at the vial in his shaking hand, the weight of his orgasm shocking him. He’d never come so hard, like every muscle in his body was spasming, the pleasure nearly overwhelming. His eyes flick over to the clock, and he splutters, seeing the time.

3:08, meaning only three minutes had passed since he’d snatched up the vial, feeling your spit against his skin, feeling you against the sensitive skin of his cock.

His eyes close, his breath finally evening out, before he’s carefully setting the vial aside, recapping it and laying onto his back, trying to process why the hell he’d come so fast with something as grotesque as your spit to help him. He’s not sure, but then the images return of you on your knees for him, face still covered in his release and telling him that you want more, please Feitan, will you give me more?

He groans as he feels his softening cock suddenly begin growing once more, his hips twitching as he reaches down to lightly grope at his balls, swallowing and deciding whether to dip his fingers into the vial yet again - he only has a limited supply, after all, and he’d be needing it again tomorrow night when he inevitably lets his mind wander to thoughts of you tied up and begging for him.

He grumbles, a strained sort of sound, before getting to work once more, spitting into his hand and letting a small, barely there smile grace his lips, the slight flush still high on his cheeks. He’d have to get some more, he decided, because this?

Well, fucking you was surely better, but Feitan would be a food to not capitalize on this new discovery - and when he’s painting his chest with ribbons of cum again a few minutes later, he decides that he’ll never go back to not having something of yours to aid him while he gets off.

It’s just more intimate this way, better, like you’re really there - like you’re really naked and ready to fulfill every need, desire and fantasy of his.

Like you want him.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your face

In general, Feitan thinks you’re attractive. He’s hesitant to say beautiful or pretty or really anything of the sort, if only because the way he feels for you is a bit more complicated than that.

You’re not just pretty; you’re alluring, someone that always seems to catch his eye no matter how hard he tries to stop it.

You’re not beautiful; objectively, there’s nothing about you that he hasn’t seen in hundreds of other women, whether it be your hair, your lips, your figure, or anything else. (Except maybe your eyes, or maybe your smile - things that are just so unapologetically you, things that Feitan thinks he could recognize with his eyes closed.)

You’re nothing particularly special, physically speaking, and yet there’s something about you that he just can’t shake, some involuntarily thing that motivates him to always have his eyes on you, his body unconsciously facing you, his senses just so very aware of you. And because Feitan spends so much time simply watching you, he’s become extremely well antiquated with your features, with your pretty face that always seems to pull him in, like a moth to a flame.

He’s memorized the way your lips curve, the soft skin puckering and moving with every word you say, and he often finds his gaze flicking down to watch while you talk, eyes sitting there idly as he lets his mind wander to what else you can do with those lips, what other shapes they can make.

He’s studied every slope of your nose, the shape seeming to fit your face perfectly, and he even finds himself turning his lip when he sees models or celebrities with the same nasal structure - it doesn’t look nearly as good on them as it does you.

And of course, your eyes - he’s spent more hours than he can count looking into them, unwilling to break the eye contact as he stares, fascinated with the color, how they shine in the light, how sunlight seems to make them glow, making you glow.

So while there’s not any particular thing Feitan can say makes you attractive, you just are - enough so that he’s found himself seeing flashing images of your face late at night, when he’s unable to sleep and polishing his weapons, letting his mind wander and inevitably stumble into thoughts of you. He’ll relive the way you look when you smile - your grin is wide, teeth exposed, the pretty skin of your lips all stretched to accommodate your joy.

You look good like that, and all too soon his innocent thought process of you is slipping into something sinister, something dirty and risqué, because now he’s imagining the way you’d smile up at him when he’s got you underneath him, your pretty little pleas and desperate begs for him to touch you making his skin tingle and his throat feel stuffy.

He’s imagining the way you’d lick your lips when he tells you to get on your knees, his cock mere inches from your face as he strokes himself, the eagerness and hunger in your eyes making him rush forward and bury himself down your throat in one go.

He’s imagining the way you’d look when he’s got you creaming on his cock, face pressed against the mattress and a mixture of tears and drool slipping down your chin, the pleasure just too much, even while your hips grind back on him, wanting more more more.

He just likes your face, finding it oddly pleasing, and when the two of you are intimate, he finds himself eagerly searching out your facial expressions as often as possible - it’s the way he knows what you like, if you’re enjoying what he’s doing to you, if he’s doing a good job.

So really, exaggerate the expressions, make it clear exactly what you’re feeling, and Feitan will be over the fucking moon - pounding into you with a new vigor, a sudden resolve to get you coming at least twice before he’s done with you. You’re just too attractive for him to resist, and he’s only a man, after all.

His hands

In general, Feitan is a fan of showing his feelings rather than articulating them, and even then only to an extent.

There’s only so far he’s willing to expose his vulnerability, and it just becomes easier and less scary to just show you, to let his actions speak louder. And despite it taking a very, very long time for him to grow comfortable enough to actually act on this philosophy, one of the first ways that he’ll settle into touching you is with his hands.

They’re rough, the skin calloused and scarred, pale fingers just the slightest bit off in certain spots, evidence of the multitudes of times he’s broken them. His fingers are lithe, nimble, quick and dexterous, evidence of his abilities with swords and the various tools he uses for work. And so, once he turns his hands onto you, you’ll notice all these things.

It starts small - a fleeting feeling of his fingers pressing against the small of your back, merely a ghost of a touch that leaves you wondering if you really felt anything at all.

He’ll reach out to flick at your forehead if you do something dumb (something endearing, but dumb), glaring at you and telling you to stop it, though his fingers are tingling where they made contact with your skin.

He’ll lightly lay his hand on your hip, or on your thigh, keeping it there for a few moments before snatching it back to his own side, his hand flexing and the muscles tightening up because god, did you like that? Did you like it when he touched you?

He gets in his head way too much about how you react to his touch, but the truth is that Feitan is incredibly touch starved, particularly when it comes to any sort of positive or romantic touch.

He’s a criminal and has grown up in horrible conditions, and he’s simply never cared. But now that you’re here, someone for him to live out all those cliche, stupid romantic tropes? Well, he can’t directly ask for your affection, but you’ll notice the way his hands lay on your body for just a beat too long, just enough to make you wonder whether that touch was really as innocent as he seems to think it was (it’s not, at least not as much as he wishes - every time his skin brushes yours, this spark of electricity dances up his spine, making him gulp and tense up, because while the feeling blooming in his chest is warm and good, it’s still foreign, still something he hasn’t quite gotten used to yet).

And even once he reaches the stage where he’s grown comfortable enough with the concept of being intimate with you to actually touch you, he still relies heavily on his hands. Particularly, Feitan grows an affinity for fingering you - he loves the way your cunt just seems to suck his fingers in, as if your body is begging for more and more of him, craving his touch and the pleasure only he can give you.

He’ll experiment a lot with you at first, curling his fingers or scissoring them, dark eyes appraising your face and checking for any changes in expression that could hint at what rhythm or area you like.

(You’ll wonder where he learned some of the motions he tries out on you - he’ll never admit to watching porn to learn some ideas, nor that he practiced them before trying them out on you, his hand sandwiched between two pillows as he diligently curled them, perfecting the ‘come hither’ motion or letting his thumb practice rubbing tight, firm circles against the cotton. No, he’d rather die than have you learn that - you can’t know how badly he wants to please you, after all.)

He likes to watch his fingers dipping inside you, the way they emerge all wet and glistening, a ring of white sitting right above his knuckles and filling him with pride.

(Often, he finds himself idly staring at his fingers after you’ve fallen asleep, your body sore and exhausted after the fucking he’d put you through. He’ll spread them, staring from all angles, remembering the feeling of your wet heat around them, how your walls clamped down on him, even how your lips and tongue flicked across them when he’d shoved them into your mouth earlier. He’ll bring them to his lips, idly sucking on them, trying in vain to get every last drop of you off of them, so that he can taste you for just a moment longer, just to satisfy himself for as long as he can.)

He’s a late bloomer and it will take him a long while to reach the point of being willing to touch you sexually (though he wants to from pretty much the get-go, much to his embarrassment), but once he does, you’d better get used to the feeling of his hands against your skin - after all, he’s insistent, and you do not want to reject his touch. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll just moan and sigh and tell him it feels good, because Feitan is just so much more agreeable when he’s happy - you’ll get to come that way, too.

DRIVE:

Generally speaking, Feitan’s libido has never been especially high. Sex has never been a priority for him, and even once his days as a Troupe member begin, this doesn’t change. He doesn’t see the attraction to sleeping around, to fucking random women just for a few minutes of fleeting pleasure.

It’s just so much work to be around others, to have to communicate and hear their complaining when he doesn’t put effort into making them feel good – it’s just not fun, not something he wants to spend his time with. And so, while Feitan is certainly no saint, he doesn’t actively seek out sexual partners. And he especially doesn’t seek out touching another person, letting himself be touched, becoming vulnerable in any possible way.

So, once you step into his life, this self-inflicted celibacy doesn’t really change all that much. Of course, the idea of touching you is significantly more attractive than it would be to touch a random stranger, but Feitan is still not especially eager to fuck you once his obsession develops.

He’s a bit of a late bloomer, taking a while to let his emotions warm up to you. In doing so, it takes a long, long time for his sexual urges towards you to appear, because Feitan prides himself on having good self control. But once he fully gives in to the fact that he wants you, in a way that’s entirely new and scary and foreign to him, the urges begin appearing.

The idly thoughts wondering what you’re wearing, what you’re thinking about, if you’re in the mood… He’s still not as horny as some of his fellow Troupe members, but Feitan begins regularly imagining fucking you, the thoughts seemingly popping out of nowhere and completely unannounced.

Frankly, it’s irritating; why is he imagining you without a shirt on when Phinks is telling him about the latest job Chrollo had paired them up for? (It’s a pain in the ass to hide the slowly growing tent in his trousers from the blond - he always just seems to know, and Feitan would rather die than be subjected to the never ended teasing.)

Why is he imagining the way your lips would feel wrapped around his cock when he’s slicing off that man’s head, the cut clean and clear yet the only thing he can think of being how your cheeks would hollow as you suck?

It’s annoying, and although he tries to fight it at first, he eventually gives up. There’s only so much he can stop himself from imagining, and as his obsession grows deeper, the perverse fantasies he holds towards you only grow more numerous, more pronounced, more longed for. He finds himself actively wanting to be intimate with you, and while he won’t act on that desire for a very long time, it’s left to quality sit, festering and brewing inside him until one day it’s all just too much, a dam bursting that forces him to finally take that last step, to let himself rest a hand on you or brush his lips against your cheek or graze his finger along your nipple.

He doesn’t move very fast, but Feitan’s in no rush - after all, you’re stuck with him for the rest of your life, and he’ll be the only other human you’ll ever interact with. By the time he’s ready to progress your relationship forward, you’ll likely have come around, desperate enough for human contact that you’ll want him to touch you, that you’ll want to touch him back.

Just the thought makes him gulp and flex his fingers, excitement and anxiety settling into his stomach, his cock growing half hard even as his mind winces.

However, because he has so many issues surrounding intimacy and vulnerability, Feitan will likely never actually force you into anything.

Because you’re likely to come around and develop Stockholm Syndrome by the time he’s ready to touch you, you’ll be more than eager to let his hand rest on your waist, or to let him stand behind you so that your ass is pressed against his crotch, the tent in his pants more than apparent. You’ll be ready, but until he’s ready, he has to find alternatives.

Because he’s still frequently experiencing sexual urges towards you way before he’s willing to act on them, Feitan finds himself quite sexually frustrated. He has all these dirty thoughts, all these possessive, insistent feelings urging him to just take you, to stake his claim on you by stuffing you full of his cock and cum, and he has to release them somehow.

And so, he falls back on a method that he isn’t necessarily proud of, but does find some sick, twisted sense of pride and amusement from. That is, because he’s the one supplying literally everything to you once you’re trapped under his roof, it’s not so hard to tamper with some of the ingredients of your essentials.

Your conditioner, for instance; he buys you the brand you love (something he tells you is coincidence but most certainly isn’t), and as he opens the cap and smells it one day while you’re asleep in the next room over, he can’t help but notice how creamy it is, how thick and how white it is.

It make shim gulp, and after quickly making sure to lock the bedroom door you’re trapped behind, Feitan shakily returns to the bathroom, exhaling deeply. It’s just a coincidence that the conditioner resembles something that he produces, right?

It’s an amusing twist of fate that your favorite conditioner (with the scent he can only describe as you) looks almost exactly like his cum, right?

Feitan thinks so, and as his mind wanders back to the little stunt you’d pulled earlier in the day, he finds himself settling onto the closed toilet lid, reaching into his pants and pulling out his cock, already drooling precum and sensitive to the touch.

You’d been laying on your bed, blanket barely covering your body as you slept, the skimpy pajamas you’d fallen asleep in in disarray on your figure. Your shirt had bunched up, letting one pert, supple breast slip out, your nipple on display, not even the blanket managing to cover it up.

(He’d froze when he noticed, slowly creeping closer, licking his lips and unable to stop staring.)

And those damn sleeping shorts, always getting moved around and never quite sitting right on your hips when you wake up, were twisted a bit, the holes for your legs angled just right so that if he looked the right way, he could see the very edge of your cunt, one lip covered with pretty pubic hairs, looking soft and warm and so fuckable.

You were asleep, and somewhere in Feitan’s mind he knows you weren’t doing it on purpose, but it’s hard not to blame you for being so indecent, for hoping to tempt Feitan into giving in. You’re such a fucking minx, all teasing and daring to show off your assets, and how was Feitan supposed to react to this? How was he not supposed to immediately grow aroused and flustered, unable to tare his gaze from your vulnerable body?

Eventually he’d managed to, shutting the door behind him and taking a few uneven breaths, trying desperately to not replay the image of your breast over and over in his mind. It’s no use, however, and as he splashes his face with cold water in the bathroom, that’s when his eyes land on the conditioner bottle.

His hand moves fast as he fucks his fist, hissing under his breath over and over as he steadily gets closer, driven forward by the idea of lewd it will be to have his cum in something as personal as you conditioner.

He can’t stop thinking about how you’d have no idea, waltzing around with his cum soaked into your pretty hair, maybe even making you smell like him - He’s groaning, the thoughts pushing him closer and closer to the edge, his orgasm hurtling forward as he imagines the way you’d lather it in your hands, humming and making sure every square inch of your hair is covered in it, covered in him.

He imagines the way you’d bring it up to your nose and deeply inhale, sighing because it’s your favorite scent, wondering why it smells a bit more musky than you remember, but not minding. Maybe you’d even like the new scent, and just the thought of that is enough to push him over the edge, a sharp growl slipping past his lips as he aims his cock right into the bottle, cum spraying all over the conditioner, the white colors matching perfectly.

He’s breathing hard, a seemingly never ending series of spurts coming from his swollen tip, and once he thinks he’s done, he grasping his length and lightly shaking it, lodging any loose bits of cum out, coaxing them to join the pile. Once done, he’ll gulp, letting a small smirk slip onto his lips as he closes the bottle, shutting the lid tight and shake the bottle, making sure to thoroughly mix it.

He won’t tell you about his little ‘gift’, of course not - but you’ll know something is up when he’s standing stiff as you exit the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body and wet hair having been marinating in the special mixture he made for you, and when he’s eagerly sniffing your head every chance he gets after that, you’ll have to realize something is amiss.

When he’s asking you if your hair feels particularly soft, you’ll have to know he’s trying to get at something, some layer underneath the surface that he’s really speaking about.

It’s enough to satisfy him for the time being, his possessiveness over you quelling ever so slightly because even though it’s not in your cunt, where it belongs, at least he’s got his cum somewhere on you - and until he’s ready to fuck you properly, that’ll have to do. It’ll become habit, and one day you may even stumble upon him midway through the process, your conditioner bottle an inch or so from his tip as he frantically tugs and pulls.

(He’ll freeze, unable to process that he got caught, and frankly, he’ll just try to ignore that you ever saw it, not willing to broach the topic - and you won’t be either, because what the fuck?)He just really, really desires you, and Feitan is a resourceful man - so I hope you like the smell of musk and a bit of iron, because you’ll be smelling like it for weeks.

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Orgasm Control

In general, Feitan has to be in control in the bedroom. It’s not that he’s particularly onto any dominant or submissive roles between the sheets, but more because he doesn’t like the feeling of vulnerability that accompanies letting other people pleasure him. Something about being at the mercy of someone else’s touch or whims makes him nervous, an unpleasant feeling blooming in his stomach that leaves him fidgety and jumpy.

And so, every sexual interaction with you will see him starring as the dominant role, always calling the shots, and nothing exemplifies this sentiment quite like the way he treats your orgasms. Despite not having a huge amount of sexual experience prior to his infatuation with you, he’s very obviously aware that both partners are capable of orgasming in any given sexual interaction, that it should be expected and achieved regardless of methodology.

With other women, Feitan wouldn’t care in the least – he’s selfish by nature, and if he were to ever have sex with anyone other than you, in no way, shape or form would he pay any mind to their pleasure, only chasing after his own release.

But with you, this sentiment is a bit different; he wants to get you off, if only because seeing the way your body responds to him, shaking and shivering and moaning and clenching, gets him harder, his breath more ragged, his palms sweatier. There’s something incredibly pleasing about seeing the way your body is sensitive to his every touch that makes him giddy, an odd mixture of power, arousal and eagerness filling him.

He wants to make you a mess, to get you gushing and creaming and whimpering as he fingers you, as he shoves his cock inside you, even as he tongues at your clit (eating you out isn’t something that happens often, but when it does, Feitan expects you to come from it). He likes the sight of you falling apart for him, and consequently, that desperation for power and control comes hurtling back – so that he is the one in control of your orgasms.

He wants to be the one choosing when, how, and why you’re coming, every one of your movements a result of him.

He tends to rely heavily on edging you, enjoying the way you squirm and beg for him to keep going. He’ll have two slender, nimble fingers buried inside of you, curling and scissoring, the stretch a bit painful but in a pleasure-tinged way, making your toes curl and your bottom lip catch between your teeth.

His thumb will rub consistent, steady circles at your clit, the little nub sore and swollen, and he’ll keep his ministrations up until you’re breathing heavier, your stomach and thighs clenching, the telltale signs that you’re nearing your high.

(He’s very, very good at reading your body when it comes to your sexual pleasure – he’s spent so long stalking you that he’s seen you touching yourself more times than he can count, and while watching the way your cunt takes the toy is very, very difficult to tear his eyes away from, he’d made sure to study every other part of your body, too. He’s watched the way your face morphs as you get closer, your brows shooting up and your lips parting a bit, your eyes fluttering and threatening to close as the pleasurable knot in your gut grows tighter and tighter and tighter. He’s watched the way your legs shake, the muscles in your thighs visibly twitching and clenching, trying desperately to close and clench together, prompting him to imagine how they’d feel around his head, around his waist, around his cock. He’s even noticed your breathing, how you sound, the way your voice gets higher and more breathy, your moans increasing in intensity until you let out this sudden, strained gasp that gets him swallowing harshly, a thick pearl of precum dripping from his tip from the mere sound.)

He’s constantly observing you even while he's intimate with you, those dark eyes never wavering from your form, and he’ll bring you right to the edge, noticing with a tightness in his throat that your legs are starting to tremble, that your voice is climbing up, that you’re starting to get all gaspy and your abdominal muscles are clenching, and god, you’re squeezing around his fingers so damn tight –

The confused, desperate whine you let out when he suddenly pulls his fingers out of you makes him smirk a bit, the way your watery eyes blearily blink up at him, half clouded in lust and disappointment making him reach out to pinch at your pebbled nipple. Not yet, one more time. He’ll tell you, laughing a bit as you whine and gulp, chest heaving and your fingers twitching. He’ll make you wait, maybe even reaching down and jerking himself off a bit, making a show of hissing under his breath and making sure that you can see him, hearing the wet noises as he flicks his wrist and imagines it’s your sweet little pussy wrapped around him rather than his own fingers.

He’s embarrassingly sensitive when he does this, his own touch making him buck his hips as he stares down at you, spread before him, underneath him, where you belong. He’ll make sure to give enough time that you come down from your sensitivity, before resuming his ministrations, making you gasp and bite your lip.

He’ll keep doing this over and over and over, denying you of your orgasm some five or so times before he finally, finally decides that you’ve behaved well enough, that you deserve to feel good. (Often, what finally gets him to cave in is the fact that he too is very close, and while it’s cliché and stupid and a bit pathetic, he really likes it when you both come at the same time, your orgasms matching up so he can feel like you’re doing it together.)

He’ll work you through it, not stopping his motions, which brings up another aspect of how Feitan likes to tease you and assert his control over you – he doesn’t like overstimulation quite as much as denial, but he’s not shy about going faster, harder, his motions seeming almost frantic as you start whining and shaking, going on about how it’s too much, Feitan it’s too much I can’t!

He’ll just growl and shut you down, slapping (not too hard) your clit and seeing you way you jerk, telling you to shut up and take it, you’ve done it before. He likes seeing your eyes get all teary, your body spasming and shaking even harder, the overstimulation making you cry out his name with a renewed fervor.

(He’d never admit it, but that’s one of his favorite parts – he never pegged himself to be a fan of loud moans, but there’s something about the way that you do it, when it’s his name you’re moaning, that makes him throb, his cock twitching without any stimulation. You sound so destroyed, so wrecked and utterly desperate for him that it makes his head spin, his chest filling with pride and lust and satisfaction because you do need him, and your body is just proving that.)

He’s cruel, often pulling three or four orgasms from you every time he touches you, those dark eyes staring unblinking down at you, almost studying you as you fall apart on his cock, on his fingers, on anything he chooses. It makes him feel good to know that he’s in full control, that he can choose when you come – it shows his place above you, helping him to justify the fact that he’s pleasuring you, that he’s taking the time and effort to make you feel good when he really doesn’t need to.

He’s just being generous – you should be grateful he even cares about your pleasure at all.

(Say thank you to him as you orgasm and he’s gone – cum is dripping down your skin or out of your pretty hole before you can process what’s even happening, the man above you gasping and heaving, trying desperately to make sure you don’t see the slight red staining his cheeks.)

He wants you to follow his commands, so just let him do as he pleases – you’ll come eventually, most of the time.

Bondage

Tying into his preferences for holding control in the bedroom, Feitan has a certain affinity for seeing you restrained.

There’s something about the way your body is presented to him when you’re all tied up that gets him feeling hot, his hands twitching and yearning to reach out and touch you. He’s not picky about what he uses to bind you – the tried and true rope is never displeasing, and the variety of pretty knots and positions he can force you into this way leave him nearly drooling at all the different sexual fantasies he can carry out with you.

He’s particularly fond of tying you up in ways that are just the slightest bit humiliating, positions that make your neck and cheeks feel hot, embarrassment eating away at you because god, everything is exposed.

He likes when your legs are spread, a bit of rope keeping your calves firmly pressed to your thighs while your pussy is exposed to open air, the perfect amount of space between your legs for him to slip into. He likes when your breasts are free, jiggling and bouncing with every thrust, the rope digging into your sternum or ribcage as you moan and writhe.

(He also likes when the rope crisscrosses over your chest, digging into your nipple and making you whine in pain and pleasure, and when he undoes the ropes, he loves the way your nipples are so sore and swollen, a much darker color than they normally are and practically begging to be pinched at, to be twisted and pulled on until you’re a sniffly, moaning mess.)

He’ll often tie your wrists together behind your back, rope connecting from your waist to the back of your knees, keeping your legs bent while he forces your ass into the air, mounting you from behind and absolutely destroying you.

Rope is his favorite, if only because there’s something so familiar, so comforting in using it – of course, he never desires to fuck any of his victims, but he knows how to manipulate the material in order to get you bent the way he wants you to be.

And while he has no desire to do anything to you that he would to those he tortures, there’s something oddly sexy and taboo about the fact that he’s using the same kind of rope on you as he did to the man the other day. It’s dirty, sinful, if only because this is as close as he can come to mixing two of the things he loves most – you, and his job.

You’re safe this way, not liable to be cut or maimed or anything of the sort, but you’re still utterly at his hands, vulnerable to every whim or desire he wishes to enact on you. He likes how helpless you are when you’re tied up, unable to reach out or take control of your own pleasure, entirely reliant on him to do everything for you – something as big as stretching you out on his cock, or as small as pushing away a stray piece of hair in your face as he fucks your throat.

The power trip is insane, and while he won’t hurt you, just the knowledge that he could makes him harder than he’s ever been. He’s a fan of other alternatives to rope, too – handcuffs are fine, a bit too mainstream for him to use regularly, but in a bind it’ll do.

(Especially if he’s grown more comfortable with you, willing to show a more vulnerable side, because handcuffs give him less control and allow you to actively participate in your pleasure, letting you grind back against him or wrap your legs around his waist or any number of other things that can signal that you want him too.)

Silk ties are fine, and on days where he’s feeling a bit more sentimental or emotional, he’ll prefer to use these because there’s less chance of you bruising or getting any burns or rashes. (Plus, there’s something so fitting about you being shrouded in silk – you, who’s so weak and soft and dainty, matching perfectly with the fabric. It makes him snort a bit, because you always look like such an angel when you’re all tied up for him in this way – like a beautiful, naïve little angel just begging to be destroyed and tainted by his hands, a feat he’s more eager and impatient to accomplish than he’d care to admit.)

He’s even willing to use clothing to get you restricted – maybe the shirt you’d been wearing (his shirt, one he let you borrow, the one he finds adorable on you even if he’d never tell you) will get tied around your wrists, keeping them firmly above your chest as he sinks into you and squeezes his eyes shut, biting back the moan that threatens to tumble at his lips because you’re just so damn tight.

He’ll use your panties as a gag, though he doesn’t do this often because he really does like hearing your sounds – especially when they’re any sort of praise or his name.

(Often, after he’s stuffed the panties you’d been wearing past your lips, he’ll steal them back afterwards, sneakily storing them somewhere for later, for late at night when he’s standing over your sleeping form and breathing shakily, staring at you and rubbing the material – wet with both your spit and your slick – all over his cock.)

His preference is always to have you restrained in some manner, and it’ll only be once he feels as comfortable as possible with you that he won’t tie you up. To have you free means letting himself be vulnerable to your touches, and even your rejection of his touch, and just the thought is enough to get him nervous, having to wipe his slightly sweaty hands onto his jacket.

He’s had fantasies about fucking you without any restraints separating you before, but the moment it happens, you’ll notice that he’s oddly sensitive, his breath coming out harsher and more labored at touches that would normally leave him largely unaffected. It’s just so emotional for him, so scary and frightening, and he’ll stay inside you much longer than normal after he’s come, relishing in the warmth and wetness of you while your fingers maybe brush over his shoulders, maybe even running through his hair. It’s the sort of fantasy he’ll never, ever tell you about, though – and for now, he’ll stick with tying you up so that you’re easily accessible, provoking and arousing to stare at, and in no position to argue when he manhandles you into doing exactly what he wants.

Dry humping

While he has sexual, lewd thoughts about you from pretty much the moment he truly accepts his feelings for you, Feitan takes a very long time to begin acting on those feelings.

Even more, it takes him a long time to get comfortable enough to be naked in front of you, much less actually fuck you. And so, while this hesitancy persists, he finds himself using other routes to sate his growing desire to be intimate with you – routes that are less invasive, less opportune for embarrassing accidents (like coming too fast, or facing your rejection).

And while it still feels awfully pathetic, Feitan finds that the simple act of grinding on you is enough to satisfy his desires, at least for the time being – there’s just something oddly enticing about it, something arousing and the pleasure just dull enough to thwart him from coming within three or four minutes of touching you.

He doesn’t like initiating it, though, finding it a bit too pathetic, even for him, even for the way he feels for you. Instead, he holds his breath, hoping that every time you brush against him (normally by accident, your whole body freezing up the moment you realize what you’ve done) that you’ll do it again, because even just a single bit of friction between your (fully clothed) bodies is enough to get his neck feeling warm, the ghost of an erection springing to life in his pants.

He’s just so, so touch starved, and so as time goes on, he’ll start subtly trying to get into positions where you might accidentally grind on him, sometimes without you even realizing. He’ll make you pick something up off the ground, then choose the exact moment that you’re bent over and your ass is in the air to walk behind you, letting his hips just barely graze against you.

He’ll manage to hold back the little strained noise he makes, but at some point you’ll notice that it’s happening much too often to be a coincidence, and you’ll eventually realize that the strange hardness you feel when he does this is actually him.

He won’t ever just grab you and rut into you, but god does he want to, especially when he sees your hips swaying, or when you’re sitting down, the fat of your thighs splayed out and your hips looking wide and full and perfect to grab onto.

He’s embarrassed by his own thoughts, but eventually you’ll probably realize what it is that he wants – you’ve felt the way he tries to subtly make it happen, and while you were at first confused and shocked (you’d had no idea Feitan wanted anything sexual with you, as he’d never made a mention of it or acted in a way that would suggest it), you eventually start getting a bit brave, too.

You don’t love Feitan, far from it, but you’ve been trapped with him for enough months to start craving any form of human contact, and so you’ll pounce – Feitan can’t help but sharply inhale when you grind back against him one day while you’re bent over, the feeling of your ass moving against his cock making him struggle to breath.

He’s not sure what you’re trying to do, too pessimistic to let himself believe that you’re the one grinding on him, but one day you’ll find yourself sitting next to him on the raggedy old couch, the TV playing some mindless horror movie that Feitan had thrown on, and your hand will just sort of move on its own, slowly, carefully placing itself very lightly over his thigh. He’ll tense up at the sensation, dark eyes flicking between your hand and your face, your own gaze nervously set on the TV in front of you.

It’s silent for a moment, but when he doesn’t move your hand, you’ll get braver, turning to look at him and asking in a soft, unsure voice if you can sit in his lap. Feitan doesn’t know how to respond, simply staring at you with narrowed eyes, wondering if this is some sort of trick – but eventually he’ll nod, telling you to be careful, don’t try anything.

You’ll position yourself so that your ass is pressed against his crotch, his thighs on either side of your hips, but you don’t lean back, even when you hear Feitan inhale slightly, having leaned forward to smell your hair. It’s a good twenty or so minutes later when you begin moving your hips slowly, nervously, listening to hear for any displeased noises or harsh commands for you to stop your movements.

Feitan is frozen behind you, staring at your hips and trying to understand what you’re doing – he likes it, but he doesn’t like the way his body is reacting, blood slowly starting to head south at the slight friction, at the way you’re so damn close to him, at the way he can smell you and can feel the heat radiating off your body.

It’s all too much, and suddenly he’s telling you to get off me, before quickly storming out of the room and locking himself in his bedroom.

His cock is in his hand within minutes, memories of how you’d felt against him, even with layers of clothes separating you still fresh in his mind. You’ll be left to believe he didn’t like it, that you’d totally misinterpreted his actions, ashamed and a bit afraid for how he’d respond moving forward.

Except, there’s no grand punishment, no mocking you for your actions – instead, the next night he turns on a new movie (still horror, gory and full of screaming and killing) and looks over at you expectantly.

His legs are spread this time, leaving a space between them, and for a moment you’re confused, unsure of what he wants. He just raises a brow at you, unwilling to articulate what he’s wanting, hoping you’ll understand it without him needing to say it.

You’ll shuffle closer, still staring at him, but soon he’ll just grumble, a hand reaching out and pulling you down to sit between his legs before you can even realize what’s happening. You’re stiff and unsure, unwilling to relax, and Feitan doesn’t like this. He wants you to move like you did last night, and after a few minutes of you sitting stone still, he’ll hiss into your ear do it again.

You’ll start slow, testing the waters, and you nearly jump when you feel Feitan’s hand ghost over your waist, setting his fingers against your shirt as if wanting to fully touch you, but not quite letting himself. He’ll occasionally tell you to go faster, the movie still playing in the background, the feeling of his cock digging into your tailbone making you a confusing mix of scared and aroused.

Eventually, he’ll let out this strange, unusual little sound, something like a grunt but much higher and strained, and you’ll feel something warm and wet pressing against you. Don’t mention anything, because Feitan doesn’t want you to say a damn word, not wanting to admit that the feeling of you grinding on him for roughly seven minutes has him coming in his pants, cum covering his cock and getting him all sticky.

He’s embarrassed, but it will become something of a ritual between the two of you – every time he turns on a movie, it’s your place to sit in his lap (eventually you actually will sit in his lap, fully on his lap, not just pressed against him, though this takes some time) and to gyrate your hips at that certain rhythm he likes, all up until you feel him tense up beneath you, seeing his fingers clutching at the couch cushions at your sides.

It’s a slow buildup into any sort of sexual activity between the two of you, but Feitan likes this, something about the intimacy making him extra sensitive, the feeling of you actually touching him (even peripherally, with clothes separating the two of you) making him feel lightheaded and airy. He likes it, and this will be the jumping off point for him to begin getting bolder, to begin letting himself actually fuck you, to finally do what he’s been craving for months.

And once you become aware that he likes it, please start imitating it – give him look and ask if you can um, sit in your lap?

He’ll almost always say yes, even if he’s in the middle of doing something, even if there’s not even a chair or couch nearby – he'll rush (not running, but very, very nearly) to the nearest surface, swallowing hard and staring at you, growing impatient when you don’t move fast enough for him.

Often, he’ll already be half hard, and while he prefers when your back is facing him, if you were to climb into his lap so that you were straddling him? Well, Feitan finds it much harder to look you in the eye, because now it’s your cunt grinding down on him rather than just your ass, and that’s much different, isn’t it?

Even once he’s progressed to stage of actually being willing to touch you, of being willing to let you touch him, Feitan still enjoys when you hump at him. And he particularly enjoys humping you, though he’s only willing to do this in the dead of night, when you’re fast asleep, your body ripe and vulnerable for him to touch, to explore, to use.

He doesn’t want you to be awake and see the way he crumbles when he drags his cock along the curve of your ass, if only because he doesn’t want you to see how pink his cheeks get, how he starts mumbling under his breath, how his every muscle is flexing and straining because he wants to go faster, needs to go faster, but he can’t risk waking you up.

It’s his dirty little secret, so you’d better start working on your stamina for grinding onto him – sure, he doesn’t last long, but he expects it often, and you can’t exactly refuse him.

Or else.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Begging

Feitan likes knowing that you want him. He feels so inferior and weak for having developed such strong, scarily dependent feelings for you, and it makes him feel good, satisfied, justified when you beg for him, all whiny and desperate for his touch, for his body, for his cock.

While he’s not particularly vocal between the sheets, he likes when you are - your voice is sultry when it gets all airy and gaspy, your little praises and pleas for him to go faster or please don’t stop making him double down and go harder, his desperation to please you driving him forward.

He won’t ever explicitly ask you to beg for anything, but you’ll be able to tell that he likes it.

You’ll see the way his eyes widen just a hair, the way his dark bangs settle over his forehead as he dips his head down, the exertion of moving his hips or wrist faster making him squeeze his eyes shut.

You’ll feel the way his thrusts get more insistent, hips slapping against yours while his balls clap against your ass, the sound lewd and only getting faster the more you beg.

You’ll be able to hear it in the way his breathing starts getting ragged, no amount of stamina adequate for hearing you beg for him, for him to touch you and pleasure you.

He wants to feel needed in the context of your sexual pleasure, as if you can’t get off without his help, as if you’re incapable of bringing yourself to orgasm when he so easily manages it. It’s unrealistic and he knows it, but he’s able to immerse himself in the fantasy of you wanting him when you’re begging him, able to delude himself into believing, if only for a bit, that you’re just as frantic for his love and affection as he is yours.

If you really want to get him going, a surefire way to have his cock springing to life and his heart lurching into his throat is to praise him a bit, then following it up with a plea for him to keep going. Tell him that it’s s’good, you feel so good Feitan, please don’t stop, just like that, fuck!

Tell him that you belong to him, that you’re his, that your cunt is his cunt, that you want him to come inside, that you need more more more. He might tell you that you’re greedy, grunting out something about you being a greedy slut, but the twitching of his cock inside you and the way his fingers tighten their hold on you will show you that he isn’t as unaffected by your words as he’d like to pretend.

He really just likes knowing that sex affects you just as much as it affects him, so please, please beg him - he’ll almost always do exactly what you want, almost like it’s a reward.

(After all, just getting to touch you is reward enough for him.)

Sensory deprivation

Because it takes Feitan so long to grow comfortable with letting himself be truly vulnerable with you (especially in the context of sex), he finds ways to get around this mental roadblock, so that he can experience everything he wants to without giving up any of his control.

And one of his favorite ways to do that is to limit your senses - specifically, Feitan loves to blindfold you. He doesn’t really want you to be looking at him during sex, too nervous and awkward and embarrassed, because once he gets inside you, his control over his facial expressions, his bodily responses, his everything is severely limited.

It takes all his will power to stop himself from coming prematurely, especially towards the beginning of his sexual relationship with you, and he’ll be damned if he lets you see the way his face crumples when he slips inside your wet heat, his dark brows drawing together and lips parting, eyes squeezing shut while he wills himself to calm down, to take deep breaths and not let himself get carried away.

He doesn’t want you to be able to look at him, but he wants to be able to see you - he wants full viewing pleasure of your body, and while this method does block seeing your eyes get all glassy and pleasured, it’s better this way.

This way, he gets to stare at the way your tits bounce as he fucks you, the soft fat jiggling and practically begging to be groped and squeezed at.

This way, he can stare at your ass he pounds into it, grabbing a handful of cheek in each hand and kneading the fat, spreading them apart and taking a peek at your pert, cute little asshole, seeing the curve and arch of your back.

He can let himself relax more this way, allowing his face to present every emotions and sensation he’s feeling, and he can let himself indulge in some of his more embarrassing urges - like reaching out to cup your hips when your bodies are facing each other, his fingers never quite brushing your skin but awfully close.

He’ll lean in close as if to kiss you, letting his breath fan over your lips but never actually closing the distance, just indulging in the smell of you and the idea of kissing you. He’s still very reserved, but this way he can do all the things he fantasizes about when he’s alone at night, his mind wandering to you and his body growing cold and lonely.

Plus, Feitan gains a certain amount of control this way - he gets to choose what happens to you, and because you can’t see anything, you’ll have no idea what’s coming next.

Will it be his hands, a vibrator, his cock?

You won’t know, and Feitan likes it that way - he wants to keep you guessing, to leave you unsure and awaiting his next move with baited breath.

He just likes how dependent you are when he’s got the black blindfold tied around your eyes, so you’d better get used to it - he’s not good at compromising, after all.

BIGGEST FANTASY:

While Feitan doesn’t harbor any desire to hurt you, there’s a certain allure that blood holds for him.

Of course, he doesn’t want to actually draw blood from you (the thought of you being in pain because of him makes any boner of his die immediately), but he discovers - by accident - that there’s a solution to mixing the two.

There’s a way to combine the two things that turn him on most - you, of course, and the slightest bit of blood - in a way that is safe for you yet still arousing, still enough to get him panting and his trousers feeling uncomfortably tight.

That is, Feitan discovers that he absolutely loves getting intimate with you while you’re on your period. It doesn’t matter if you get horrible cramps, mood swings, or are even totally unaffected - you’re sensitive, body needy and practically begging to be mounted and fucked, and who is Feitan to deny you?

Once he grows comfortable with intimacy, you’ll never be able to pull him away from you once the blood shows up in your panties. He’s obsessive, tracking your period for you, making sure that he knows the exact days that you’ll be starting and stopping.

He likes the way you respond to his touch so easily, your pretty pussy all messy and red and puffy, even the slightest touch making you buck your hips and gasp his name.

It’s euphoric, and when he slips inside you it becomes incredibly difficult to not immediately orgasm - you’re just so wet, so warm and wonderfully lubricated, and the sight of blood staining his cock when he pulls back to thrust back in makes his head spin.

You’re perfect when you’re menstruating, and you’ll notice he’ll be in a much better mood once you shyly report that it started, could you pick up some more pads for me? (He toys with the idea of actually collecting your blood, investing in one of those menstrual cups that you can remove once it’s full, just because the concept of drinking it is enough to make him fidget, the thought taboo and dirty and so very enticing.)

You can’t really say no to him normally, but you especially can’t deny him when it’s your time of the month - you will be getting fingered, fucked, even facefucked, if only because Feitan needs you, your pretty blood and pretty body making him go crazy in a way he didn’t think possible.

You make him go crazy in ways he didn’t think possible.

“Feitan, I - we can’t, not tonight.” You tell him, averting your gaze away from his as his hands grab at the old t-shirt and short you’re wearing. Unconsciously, your hand travels to your stomach, laying idly and making Feitan’s eyes narrow.

“Why not?” He asks, his voice clipped and suspicious. You didn’t often tell him no, and although there’s a bit of doubt swimming in his chest, he wants to know why you’re suddenly not welcoming his touch. You’ve reached the point of leaning into his cold, harsh hands, so why’re you suddenly being so standoffish? He doesn’t like it, and his hands stay idly resting on your shirt hem.

You’re embarrassed, he can tell, but he doesn’t drop the issue. Instead, he lets the silence sit heavily over the two of you, waiting for you to fill in the space.

“Well, um, you see…” You start, before squeezing your eyes shut and squeaking out, “My period started yesterday and it’s too messy.”

Feitan blinks at you, unsure what to say. Your period? You were bleeding?

“Okay, and?”

Your eyes peel open, daring to sneak a glance at your captor, who only stares at you, unimpressed. “Well, I mean, it’s going to be messy and gross and it probably smells bad and -”

“Shut up, we’re doing it.” He cuts you off, hand yanking at your shirt to bring it over your head. You grimace, already nervous for him to take off your shorts, because although you’re sure he knows what a period is, you’re sure he’s never actually been around a woman menstruating. Or at least, not sexually.

Actually, you’re pretty sure he’s never been with a woman sexually in any capacity.

He’s yanking at your shorts next, pulling down the material even as you voice your protests, but one scowl from him has you shutting up, embarrassment pricking up your spine as he grabs your thighs and manually spreads them, the scratchy blanket covering the bed biting into your ass.

He’s staring, dark eyes a bit wider than normal, and you feel yourself shrinking in on yourself, the embarrassment eating you alive. Why was he staring? Why wasn’t he doing anything? Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“Feitan..?” You mumble, biting your lip and letting your arms cover your bloated stomach. He doesn’t respond, but you feel his grip on your thighs tighten, to the point where you think you might see bruises tomorrow.

His eyes slowly, painstakingly, drag up from your exposed cunt to meet your face, and to your surprise you see the slightest dusting of a blush on his cheeks, as if he too was embarrassed. But before you can say anything, he’s rushing forward, lips pressing against yours in a messy, clumsy kiss, full of teeth knocking against teeth and too much spit. You’re not sure what’s gotten into him, but just as soon as he rushed in he’s pulling back, instead moving to bring his face level with your leaking hole.

Feitan can’t stop staring - there’s blood everywhere, and while he’d normally be thrown into a state of panic at seeing so much of your own blood staining your skin, somehow this is different. Somehow the sight of it staining your pussy, the red color all along your inner thighs and part of your asscheek making his mouth water, his cock already painfully hard. It’s so pretty - red against your skin, your lips visibly swollen, your little clit engorged and peaking out. You look good, like something he wants to taste, and before he knows what’s happening he’s diving forward, tongue licking a long stripe up your slit.

You taste like iron and musk and something oddly sweet, and immediately he’s diving in to taste more, tongue lapping at you like some dog in heat as he keeps his fingers firmly digging into your thighs. He can barely hear your sound of shock at his actions, too overwhelmed by your taste and your scent.

“F-feitan, stop!” You manage to force out, eyes squeezed shut as your hips shake and stutter. “It’s too much, I’m too sensitive, I can’t!”

Feitan stops at that, pulling away from your body with blood smeared all over his lips, chin and nose, staring at you with a look in those wide, dark eyes that makes you shiver. He looks like an animal like this, something primal and carnal - and when your eyes peek down to see his cock - throbbing, bright red and stiff against his stomach - you can’t help but feel as if you’re some sort of prey caught in his jaws.

“Not too much, you will survive.” Is all he says, before he’s resuming his actions, bringing a finger up to prod inside your walls while his tongue gets to work on your clit. His fingers curl and rub, but you’re so damn tight, your walls impossibly clenched, and it makes Feitan grunt against you. You’re even wetter inside than normal, the blood practically running down his hands in copious amounts, making it remarkably easy to slide his fingers in and out. Almost too easy, it would seem.

You’re blabbering his name, the stimulation hurtling you towards your orgasm much quicker than normal, your heightened sensitivity and emotions turning you into a moaning, whimpering mess. And Feitan loves it - those dark eyes are peering up at you from over the crest of your pelvic bone, blood tinging his cheeks and visible to you.

When he angles his fingers to press against the spongey, sensitive spot he knows you love, you suddenly gasp, a hand flying to tangle into his hair, the other gently pinching and rolling at your nipple.

“Feitan, oh fuck Feitan ‘m gonna, I’m gonna come-!” You’re squealing, something that makes Feitan cock a brow, the pure desperation in your body as you squirm under his touch making him feral, his hips beginning to rut against the bed before he can even think about it. You just look so sexy like this, with your nipples swollen and sensitive, your cunt all warm and wet and sweet, and he’ll watch with wide eyes as you orgasm around him, your walls clenching down so hard that they force his fingers out, his tongue and the circles he’s drawing on your clit the only thing grounding you. Your back arches fully up off the bed, tits thrust out into the air, and Feitan bites back a groan as his own pleasure hits a peak, the blanket ruined as cum oozes from his tip and seeps into the fabric.

You’re shaking, literally fucking shaking, and Feitan finds himself trembling too, his hands not as steady against your skin. If he’d known you would taste like this, how sensitive you’d be, how easy it is to get you orgasming while on your period, he would’ve done this long ago.

You’re out of it, blinking up at the ceiling and heaving uneven breaths, but even as sensitive as he is from his last orgasm, Feitan is quickly shuffling to his knees, grabbing the base of his cock and sinking into you, face contorting into something between a grimace and a gasp. You’re so damn warm, and he groans lowly as he sees the way his cock has pink slick all over it when he pulls back, a mix of your blood, your slick and his cum decorating his length.

Fucking you is heaven, the way you clutch at him and writhe, nearly screaming his name as you come on his cock, and Feitan can only grit his teeth and go harder, spurred on by the way your walls are caressing his length, massaging and gripping like a fucking vice.

It feels good, and by the time he’s emptied himself inside you, he’s already made a mental note to mark down when your next period will be - just so he can get ready, so that he can get prepared. So that he can prepare you, too, because you won’t simply be allowed rest after the first night.

God no, not if you’re like this the whole time.

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere feitan #yandere feitan portor #hxh smut #_lee's profiles #_hxh #_feitan portor

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bwabys-scenarios · 11 months

Text

7 Minutes in Heaven

Various!HXH x Reader

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

taglist: @desiray562 @lovelyxkazuha

if you would like to be added to the NSFW taglist, comment a ❤️!! make sure you have your AGE in your bio, and that you’re able to be tagged/mentioned!

It was late October, and after meeting up with your friend Kurapika and Leorio for some fun fall activities, you came home to see a letter in your mailbox.

“Dear (Name),

You have been cordially invited to this years Costume Party. Please come wearing a costume, and be aware that there may be some people there that you do not like. Guests are required to hide their identity with their costumes, and fighting is prohibited.

Regards,

Pariston”

You frowned, seeing that there was another letter attached that had the address and time it would be taking place. Fortunately(or unfortunately really), you didn’t have anything planned for that day, so you didn’t see why you shouldn’t go.

All you would need is a costume.

“You got an invitation too, (Name)? Both Leorio and I received one the day we parted ways.”

You blinked, looking between the two. “Oh yeesh, I hope that it hasn’t been handed out to every hunter in existence. I will actually pee my pants if Hisoka is there.”

Kurapika grimaced and Leorio started laughing. “Shit, don’t do that he might like it!”

Now both you and Kurapika were grimacing. “(Name), don’t worry. If he shows up, just stick by our sides and we’ll protect you.”

You nodded, giving your friends a quick hug and peck on the cheek. “Aww, thanks guys!”

You turned just in time to miss their blushing faces. “Let’s buy our costumes together, so we can recognize each other at the party!”

“Oh, that actually sounds like a good idea!” Kurapika said after recovering from the kiss. Leorio nodded, following after the two as they headed towards a costume store.

——————

You look down at your costume, a black dress, a masquerade mask, and witch hat. It was a little plain, but followed the rules of hiding your identity. The only people that would know who you are would be Kurapika and Leorio.

You walked towards the address, stopping in front of a large mansion. “Did he seriously rent out a mansion just for a party? Figures…”

Before you could even knock, the door swung open and you were pulled in by Pariston, the only person not wearing a costume. “Welcome, you’re just in time! Everyone else is here, and ready to party!”

He was right, the entire first floor was full of people, some easily recognizable, and some not. You were hoping that the man lingering in the corner of the room was not the leader of the phantom troupe, Chrollo, because that would mean a battle to the death between him and Kurapika.

“Pariston, I don’t know what you have planned, but-“

Pariston smiled down at you. “Shh, just have fun. Everything will be fine. Probably.”

You pout, but join the crowd of people, drinking a little and dancing. You spotted a short dark haired man nearby, sitting with a taller, blonde haired one.

“Come on, Fei. It’s not often we get invited to things. Phinks is already dancing, look!”

You blink, glancing to where the blonde was pointing to see a man swaying on the dance floor, sipping from his drink. They spot you looking, the shorter man giving you a look that sends you running in the opposite direction. “Hey, don’t mind him!” the blonde yells after you.

You sigh, bumping into someone as you turn. “Oh sorry I-“

A man towers over you, his hair dark and long. His eyes peer down at you through his skeleton mask, and you can’t help but feel tiny compared to him. Thankfully, he just pushes past you, patting your shoulder almost reassuringly.

“(Name)!”

Kurapika and Leorio spot you, sighing in relief.

“Geez, woman. You should have texted us when you got here! There’s a lot of creeps here.” Leorio said, patting your head.

Kurapika scowls. “Yeah, creeps and criminals. Does Pariston think we’re stupid? I can sense the phantom troupe is here. I swear I’ll-“

You grab his sleeve. “Hey, no violence, remember? Try to be calm, just for tonight. You recognize them, but they don’t recognize you. You could get some information out of them once they get drunk enough.”

He sighs and nods slowly. “You’re right… I need to be calm.”

Kurapika smiles appreciatively. “Thanks, (Name). You’re always a voice of reason.”

As the three relax and drink, planning, Pariston comes forward. “Alright gang, I’ve got a game planned for you all!”

You all turn to see Pariston holding a hat. “Drop an item of yours into the hat!”

Everyone grumbles, not a single person wanting to listen to the annoying blonde. To get it over with, you’re the first person to walk forward, placing your strawberry scented chapstick in the hat. “There.”

Others come forward, the entire party placing items in it. A few have to be dragged up to the hat, others grumbling and growling as they’re nudged forward.

“Alright, that’s everyone! Now…”

He looks to you, grinning.

“We’re playing 7 minutes in Heaven. Come pick an item, (Name).”

You blink. “Are you serious? What are you, a horny 15 year old?”

Pariston laughs. “No, but I am curious.”

You roll your eyes as some people start to murmur and ask what 7 minutes in heaven is.

“For those unaware, 7 minutes in heaven is a game where two people are locked in a closet for seven minutes! You can do whatever you want, and I really mean whatever.”

Your two friend begin to protest. “Hey, she’s the only woman here, this is sexual harassment!” Kurapika yells.

“Meh.”

Pariston offers the hat to you, and you groan. “Oh whatever. I’ll take a stupid item.”

You rustled through the hat… what do you pull out?

Options:

-a needle

-a bookmark

-a scalpel

-a cellphone

-an earring

-a piece of candy

-a roll of gauze

POLL FOR WHAT COMES FIRST!!

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kiame-sama · 1 year

Text

Donut Rings- (Yandere!Chrollo x Chubby!Reader)

Warnings; this whole thing is almost entirely self serving, fem reader, short and busty reader, chubby reader, general perversion, cursing, adult themes, adult conversation, jealousy, possessive behavior, yandere, yandere relationship, yandere behavior, mention of aggressive behavior, unwanted flirting, slight objectification,

~~~~~~~~

"Can't fuckin' believe it..."

A long and frustrated sigh left the lips of the blond man standing with his arms crossed. The blue and green jumpsuit he wore seeming over the top given that he was not going jogging, but at an airport. He had an obvious scowl on his lips and certainly seemed less than pleased with the situation he found himself in.

"What has you so displeased, Phinks?"

A man with black hair in a fur lined coat glanced curiously at his compatriot, a single delicate brow raised in question. The two belonged to the larger group that seemed rather disjointed together despite being together. Twelve in total stood together as others ambled past them towards whatever gate would get them to their flight.

"You should have seen it, Boss, Phinks got flat out rejected by some chick."

The largest of the group- both height and muscle mass- snorted out a loud laugh that earned more than a few glances. His wild gray tinted hair made him appear to be almost feral in how he grinned in amusement at the dejection of his comrade. One may compare the large man to that of a bear or a wolf given the wide grin and decidedly feral appearance.

Phinks sighed loudly again as he pouted, clearly unhappy with his rejection and the teasing he received

"Not just some chick, she's the short one with the huge fucking tits at the donut place!"

He cupped his hand beneath his chest to emphasize his point and phantom-mime the size of the breasts in question. Even with the nonexistent chest he 'held' in his hands, he seemed to be yearning to touch the real breasts he was talking about. Hands slowly moving as if stroking the air where the soft globes would be.

"What do her tits have to do with anything?"

One of the smaller members of the group- a woman with bright pink hair and moderately sized breasts- frowned in the general direction of Phinks. She seemed less than pleased with the way the man was talking about the apparent attributes and almost seemed tempted to smack his cupped hands. Out of the group, the pink-haired woman had the smaller sized breasts compared to the other women present.

"You wouldn't get it, Machi," Phinks complained, dismissively waving his hand, "it's a guy thing. If you can get a big tiddy bitch to ride you, it's so fun to watch them bounce. Plus, probably the best thing to fuck other than pussy. So soft, like humping two giant marshmallows."

Phinks moved his hands to mimic holding two breasts at crotch level and thrusting his hips into them to show just what he was talking about. It wasn't as if any of the group were clueless to the intimate actions he spoke of, but he was content to show the action all the same.

The twelve stood near a donut shop inside of the airport, a constant stream of people entering and exiting the line with various baked confections. There was an apparent sweet scent wafting through the air around the bakery as more of the goods were baked and decorated. For every tray of decorated donuts, two trays seemed to be emptied every ten minutes.

Machi glanced up at the window that showed where the employees were decorating the donuts and putting the rich icing onto them. Behind the glass stood the woman in question as she worked to put the sugary icing onto the warm baked rings. She seemed oblivious to the group that stood casually discussing her and watching her work, though a slight glare took over her relaxed visage as Phinks thrust his hips provocatively.

"Is that the one who rejected you?"

Chrollo asked, gesturing to the woman behind the glass as she lifted the tray of donuts and walked away to place them out for sale. Phinks nodded with a solemn look, as if lamenting the fact that the woman was clearly less than pleased with his presence when she wasn't ignoring him.

"Yeah. I was even trying to put on the works for her, you know? Sweet talk her a bit, make a joke or two. But she couldn't even give a fella the time of day!"

"Good."

This caused a surprised laugh from several in the group as Phinks stared at Chrollo incredulously. If he didn't know any better, he would say Chrollo was intentionally being cruel for the sake of being cruel.

"Damn, Boss, that's cold!"

Chrollo shrugged in response to the amused and surprised remark by the feral man that gleefully teased Phinks. It seemed as if the raven haired man was not at all perturbed by the surprised words, glancing back at the window as the woman returned. She still ignored thr group and began decorating the next set of rings without glancing up at the onlookers.

"Spider or not, I don't feel particularly fond of others flirting with my girlfriend."

This made all of the color drain from Phinks' face as he took in Chrollo's casually stated words. If there was one thing that none of the group wanted to do, it was anger their beloved leader. Flirting with Chrollo's significant other certainly seemed like a surefire way to anger him.

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait, she's your-? Forget everything I said about her nice juicy tits! And what I said about humping them-! I mean- fuck!"

"Phinks, I think you should probably just be quiet."

The other blonde in the group laughed at the flustered reaction and stuttered words Phinks hastily choked out. Shalnark was as amused as ever with the quick way the other blonde attempted to retract his statement now that he knew he was talking about Chrollo's girlfriend. If Chrollo were quick to anger, Phinks would have been struck down for his words about the woman who still had yet to look back at them.

"Idiot."

One of the short men with black hair scoffed at the foolish behavior of Phinks, not needing to put effort into a greater response than the slight jab. It was frowned upon for the group members to try and start fights with the others and trying to take a significant other was sure to cause a fight. Luckily for Phinks, Chrollo was not witness to the brazen flirting.

"Didn't know you had a girlfriend, Boss."

The blonde female stated with a relaxed tone, masking the clear curiosity in her voice. Chrollo did not seem like one to keep a consistent partner as he often used sex to extract information from others. Regardless, no one in the group was about to question their beloved leader beyond simple comments and inquiries.

"I do. (Y/n) is not a plaything or a target to be hassled, nor should she know of our exploits. She is far too innocent for that and may try to flee if she realizes the full breadth of our actions. So, until I choose to enlighten her, no one is to mention what we do or where we come from, understood?"

The others were quick to agree to the unofficial order of silence, now more curious than ever to figure out just what about this woman managed to entrance their blood-thirsty leader. For the time being they decided to keep quiet and observe as the woman emerged from the donut shop, seeming rather tired and uncomfortable on her feet. Chrollo was quick to leave the group and approach (y/n) with an affectionate smile, surprising the shorter woman as if she had not expected his presence.

"Chrollo? What are you doing here?"

"Do I need a reason to visit my lover?"

"Only when I'm working. How did you get past security? They're usually pretty strict about letting anyone who isn't traveling or doesn't work here past the entrance."

"I have my ways."

"Right," she let out a short huff of amusement, "next you're going to tell me you have diplomatic immunity."

Chrollo chuckled softly, wondering just how his cute little darling would react to knowing even half of the truth about him and the things he's done. With everything he had done there was no way that he would be allowed into the airport legally. Of course, for those who knew his sordid past, seeing him casually flirt with the short, large-breasted woman was an unusual experience. One that Phinks couldn't help but pout at.

"No fair, why does he always get the hot ones?"

"I'm telling Boss you're talking about his girl again."

"Oh, fuck off!"

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #hxh yandere #yandere chrollo #self serving fic

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bleach-your-panties · 9 months

Text

⇰INTRODUCING, AN OFFICIAL BYP🌹🌸 COLLABORATION EVENT...

...."BLONDES HAVE MORE FUN!"❀

⋱♡full collab info post ⇰here!

Deadline: MAY 31, 2024 (not a hard deadline!)

🎀Posts🎀:

♥︎Tokyo Revengers:

Chifuyu Matsuno @bleach-your-panties

Ken Ryuguji "Draken" @sin-and-punishment

🎀nsfw, smut |🎀fem reader

Shion Madarame @sin-and-punishment

🎀nsfw, smut | 🎀fem reader

Jeez Louise - Ken Ryuguji "Draken" x Emma Sano, Manjiro Sano "Mikey" x Reader (group sex) @ranspuppy

🎀nsfw, smut |🎀fem reader |🎀foursome |🎀fxf action

Takuya Yamamoto @ranspuppy

🎀nsfw | 🎀fem reader

Tetta Kisaki @bleach-your-panties

Rindou Haitani @prncessrindou

Ran Haitani @ksakiswh0re-xo

Wakasa Imaushi @ranspuppy

🎀rating tbd

✿Bleach:

Izuru Kira @bleach-your-panties

🎀nsfw, smut | 🎀fem reader

Rose Otoribashi @semisgroupie

🎀nsfw | 🎀more tbd

Shinji Hirako @seireiteihellbutterfly

🎀nsfw | 🎀thick, fem reader

♥︎Hunter x Hunter:

Kurapika Kurta @bleach-your-panties

Shalnark @ranspuppy

🎀nsfw | 🎀fem reader

Phinks @ranspuppy

🎀nsfw | 🎀fem reader

Pakunoda @ranspuppy

🎀nsfw | 🎀fem reader

✿Jujutsu Kaisen:

Kento Nanami x2 @ino-tamukas-baggy-sweater

Hell Hath No Fury - Kento Nanami @seireiteihellbutterfly

🎀nsfw | 🎀thick fem reader

Rosé and Bubble Gum - Yuuji Itadori @bleach-your-panties

🎀suggestive | 🎀fem reader | 🎀black-coded

Yuuji Itadori - @bleach-your-panties

♥︎Genshin Impact:

Thoma @ino-tamukas-baggy-sweater

Albedo @ino-tamukas-baggy-sweater

✿Attack on Titan:

Armin Arlert @stopisa

🎀nsfw | 🎀more tbd

Friends with Benefits - Reiner Braun @/shujistars-archived

🎀nsfw, smut | fem reader

Armin Arlert @sunarc

🎀nsfw | 🎀 more tbd

♥︎My Hero Academia:

Katsuki Bakugo @bakugosbratx

🎀nsfw| 🎀dark content

Mirio Togata @bleach-your-panties

✿Blue Lock:

Ryosuke Kira @bleach-your-panties

Ryusei Shidou @ranspuppy

🎀nsfw | 🎀more tbd |🎀fem reader

♥︎Haikyuu!!:

Kei Tsukishima @ranspuppy

🎀nsfw | 🎀more tbd | 🎀fem reader

Kenma Kozume @ranspuppy

🎀nsfw | 🎀more tbd | 🎀fem reader

Kentarou Kyoutani @ranspuppy

🎀nsfw |🎀fem reader

✿Fairy Tail:

Laxus Dreyar @bleachbrainrotbro

🎀sfw |🎀male reader

♥︎One Piece:

Sanji Vinsmoke @chrollohearttags

✿Death Note:

Mihael Keehl "Mello" @bleach-your-panties

#🎀bhmf.collab xo🎀#anime collab #writing collab #since y'all wanted the deets!#tokyo revengers x reader #bleach x reader #tokyo revengers x black reader #aot x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x black reader #genshin impact x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #hxh x reader #any fandom #please share!!#bow divider via glitter-graphics #dividers by cafekitsune #byp🌹

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scarlet2007 · 1 year

Text

⊹ ₊˚꒷꒦︶⊹ To tame a mermaid's heart₊︶꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Pairing: Yandere! Adult trio x Mermaid! Reader. (Chrollo x reader in this chapter).

Side pairing: Illumi x Hisoka.

[ Master list ]

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Summary: After being kidnapped by Chrollo, a certain clown and assassin took an interest in her as her childhood friend, Kurapika Kurta, tried to free her from the clutches of those monsters. But perhaps, Kurapika has become one too.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Chapter: 1 of the miniseries.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Warnings: Yandere theme, Kidnapping and human/mermaid trafficking, drugs and overall, horror themes, oh! And i named the reader "Maki".

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Word count: 1.3k

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Requested by: @animerules898

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

The auction light burned her vision, making her cover her eyes as soon as the curtains were opened, the people letting out a gasp as they stared at the scene infront of them. Rumors has it that a mermaid was being auctioned off at the mafia auction this year, and from the looks of it, it looks like the rumours were true as they all watched her blink in confusion, her tail shining brightly as the light from the auction hall hit it, making the vibrant colours appears more mesmerizing.

They all stared at her, listening to the host intensely as everyone wanted the mermaid to themselves. After all, mermaids are rare, and if you managed to make one transform, it can provide great and powerful offsprings.

She looked confused at first before the situation finally dawn upon her as she tried to look for a way to escape, but being enclosed in a tank didn't help her case. As she looked at the crowd and the host in panic, the crowd started to bet more and more, competing against each other to buy her. She was beautiful, as all mermaids are, but what made her more desirable was how innocent and helpless she looked, which just fueled the desires of the people in the auction house more, with one common thought, 'I can't wait to break her.'

After almost half an hour later, she was auctioned off, and in her frantic state, she didn't look at who brought her as a lady started to push her tank towards the storage.

"Kortopi, are you going to make a copy of her too?" The lady that took her to the storage room asked, glancing at a strange man. He had a thick and messy mane of grey hair covering his entire head and obscuring everything except for his left eye. He also had a small mouth and round head. He wore a light blue tunic, light blue pants beneath it, and black shoes.

Kortopi nodded as the lady pushed her tank towards him, as another girl, seemingly called 'Shizuku' as the lady referred to her as, looked at the mermaid with great interest.

The mermaid shifted uncomfortably in the tank, trying to make herself as small and as far away from the top of the tank as she could as a man with blonde hair and black eyes tried to pull her out of it. He looked fairly tall and muscular. His most distinguishing features where his piercing eyes and lack of eyebrows, making the mermaid almost giggle before she remembered where she was.

Suddenly, she was pulled out of the tank in an blink of an eye, by a string as a girl with pink hair rolled her eyes. The mermaid, shocked at what just happened, laid on the ground for a few seconds before looking straight at the girl with pink hair. The mermaid's hair were wet, and so was her whole body as she pant heavily, finding it a bit difficult to breath as her atmosphere suddenly changed.

"Machi, be gentle! Leader told us to bring her without any bruises or cuts!" A man with blond hair and bright green eyes wearing a lavender outfit, exclamated.

"She wasn't going to come out on her own, Shalnark." Someone said as the mermaid was too busy being dragged towards Kortopi, struggling on her way as Phinks tried to keep her to stay still. The mermaid whimpered, feeling distressed at the whole overdeal as she flinched as Kortopi put his hand on top of her head, focusing on greating a copy of her with his fake gallery.

The mermaid watched in the mixture of fear and curiosity as her exact replica was created besides her, the only think that made her unique from her replica was that her replica didn't feel as lively as she did, making the replica almost look like a doll.

"Kortopi, why does the replica look... A bit different from the mermaid?" Shizuku asked, staring intensely at the replica and the mermaid infront of her. Phinks agreed before Kortopi began to explain.

"Mermaids can not be replicated fully, it's one of the things that make them so unique and rare." The mermaid nodded along in almost a child-like manner as she glanced at Kortopi.

Suddenly, the mermaid felt pain in her neck before her eyes were blindfolded as she began to loss conciousness.

"Good thing they are vulnerable to all type of drugs then." Was the last thing she heard before she lost her conciousness.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

The mermaid woke up in a tank, in the middle of a room inside of an abandoned building.

The mermaid groaned, bubbles forming from the action as she looked around before spotting a figure sitting nearby, reading what looked like a Bible. He had slick black hair that were pulled back, wearing a fluffy jacket without anything underneath with a weird tattoo on his forehead. The mermaid stared at him in silence, fear slowly creeping in the longer she stared at the man who was calmly reading the book with the help of the light generated by a candle.

The mermaid flinched as the man shut off his book, turning around to made eye contact with her.

"You're awake." He smiled as he approached her, making the poor mermaid swim as far back as the tank would allow to keep her distance from the man.

"Shhh, don't be, scared, love, you are mine, now. You shouldn't be scared." The man whispered as he stared at her.

There was something unsettling in his gaze, something more unsettling at the way he talked, making the mermaid fear him more.

The mermaid squeaked in fear as he grabbed her arm, pulling her out of her water tank as he pulled her towards his chest, sliding an arm underneath her tail to support it as he nuzzled against her neck.

"Mine... You don't know how long I have waited to get my hands on you, Maki." The mermaid froze in fear, 'Maki', no one knew her name, except her clan members and the members of the Kurta clan, even the people that were auctioning her off didn't knew her name.

Maki gulped in fear, as she glanced at his face, his gentle smile and calm demeanor making her question her own fear.

Why is he so calm? Why was she freaking out when he had been nothing but nice to her? Who was he?

Maki shook her head gently, trying to focus on the situation more and not on her thoughts as she finally spoke after months.

"How... Do you know my name..?" She asked quietly, her voice hoarse from not being used from months.

"Oh, Maki... I know everything about you."

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Author's note: Okay, so... This is my first ever mini-series, so I am kind of excited to see how it will turn out! I really love the whole idea so thanks to @animerules898 for the great idea! If anyone wants to be tagged in the future chapters, then feel free to send me an ask for it! Also, my mid terms are starting from 11th September so I might be a bit slow but I will try my best to be active! Thank you!

Oh, and requests are open but please be patient with them! Have a great day!

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

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lightfeltmemories · 12 days

Text

18+, minors, blank, and ageless blogs dni, fem black reader in mind. my first post in this format please don't kill me if someone feels ooc.

he knew you were a baddie before your relationship with him, so, he doesn't police you on what you wear, in fact, he loves your outfits, and if anything, buys (or steals) anything you desire to keep you high maintenance, when walking down the street, he loves the thought of other men feeling envious because he managed to pull such a gem, your hand in his, you both walk down the street, the way your ass jiggles with every step in your short shorts, the way your tits bounce in the tight fitting tank top, the way your makeup is always flawless and glowing in the sunlight, the way your hair and nails are always done, the way you always smell good as fuck, he loves every aspect of you, and knew exactly what he was getting into when he pursued you, because at the end of the day, he's the one thrusting his fat cock deep inside you every night, his name is the one escaping your lips as he pounds into you, moaning and screaming for more, he's the one you chose to lay next to after it's all said and done.

jjk: satoru gojo, choso, kento nanami, toji fushiguro, shiu kong, naruto: naruto uzumaki, kisame hoshigaki, hidan, kakashi hatake, might guy, deidara hashirama senju, jiraya demon slayer: kyojuro rengoku, tengen uzui, douma, giyu tomioka, iguro obanai hunter x hunter: leorio paladiknight, uvogin, nobunaga hazama, shalnark ryusei, phinks magub, hisoka morrow, feitan portor one piece: monkey d. luffy, rorona zoro, vinsmoke sanji, usopp, brook, portgas d. ace, eustass kid, donquixote doflamingo,

anyone i didn't add, this can also apply if you want it to but these were the characters that came to mind for me :)

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z0-ne · 1 month

Text

WEB (Phantom troupe fic!)

Phantom troupe fanfic (platonic Chrollo. This is a Shalnark and Phinks x reader)

Tw: Stalking, mentions of past trauma, Chrollo is not a good person, alcohol, and foul language.

_______________________________________________

If you could ever make a wish and it would come true no matter how big or small.

What would you wish for?

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"Souhait, I assure you I'm gonna be fine,"

you repeated for the second time within an hour while getting ready to go out with some friends tonight.

They've been against this since the last time they discussed it, and while you can understand their reasoning, it was your birthday today, and you haven't seen them all in so long

"No...No..."

Whispered a floating shadow-like figure with no face, or hair, and pitch black skin dressed in a red oversized sweater and grey sweatpants with socks.

They were curled into a ball, head resting on their knees, arms covering their forehead, feet crossed over each other, and floating right above your bed.

"Oh come on... Don't you trust me?"

You questioned as you finally put the earring on after struggling for what seemed to be five minutes or more. Now turning to face the figure who sat up at your question as if they were caught off guard by it.

"Yes...But I...do not trust them.Tonight one will betray you...I can feel it..."

As they spoke, lights began to flicker and lamps began to float. All while keeping that same position as earlier. The deep disliking they had for your friends always worried you, and it was the reason why you all hardly hung out.

They were also somewhat violent towards one of them. Not physically but they were verbally upset with their presence and made it known every time they spoke to them.

Souhait was someone you trusted more than anyone else in the world, but you haven't gone out in so long and they'd been begging you for a while.

"Betray...?"

The word alone put a slight lump in your throat.

"...yes...Betray...-"

Usually, you'd heed their words and prepare to cancel the plans and move away. Far away from the city at the mere mention of betrayal. Could be a trauma response, but you don't want to think that far.

It made you feel sick and reminded you of something you wished to forget, but...

"Victoria wanted me to go...and.."

It would've made you feel bad if you said no.

Looking up from the floor, and wiping your sweaty palms onto a paper towel. You put on a smile and came up with a solution.

"Well, then how about you come with me?"

You suggested, in an effort to calm them down or bring them temporary comfort, and maybe even get them out of the apartment for a little while. Even if it was to just go to some party. The last time they left the house was during high school.

"I...would've gone...anyways...Keep watch..."

It seemed like it worked, the lights went back to normal and the lamps floated back to the table and she stayed hovering in the air, now floating away from your bed and beside the closed window.

"Well then get ready, I'll wait for you ok?"

"Melt...I will just...melt..find clothes...later.."

"Seriously? How will you blend in?"

Just then, they began to drip black ooze onto the floor as their body began to melt into a pool of black ooze, bubbling slightly as they moved across the floor and towards you, their cold body touching your ankle when they got close.

They left their clothes flat on the floor as if they were just thrown there like dirty laundry.

"Oh- the shadow thing!"

Slowly the puddle began to fade into the ground and reshape itself into your shadow.

"That's such a cool trick!"

"Thank...you..."

You smiled down at them before you walked towards the front door, grabbed your keys, and then put your shoes on. You had a bag with a few things in it, that would hopefully be of use just in case, and the regular things in there as well.

"Okay...I'm sure I've got everything.."

"I slipped...something into your- Pocket."

"Thanks, Souhait!" you chirped, gratefully.

Turning around and opening the door, you walked out and locked it behind you. You lived on the highest floor in the apartment so when going downstairs you usually took the elevator, rather than the fourteen flights of stairs.

Not to mention the elevator you took was one rumored to give out at random times, so nobody used this one in specific, they took the other one down the other way of the hallway. To think that city folk was so superstitious, was so funny.

The elevator never played music, and the lights would flicker every now and then, so it was no wonder why people would want to stray away from it. However, these things all happened thanks to you.

"An elevator to ourselves is heavenly."

"No..awkward...talk..or strangers..."

You giggled against your hand and nodded.

"All thanks to you."

Now heading down the hall and into the lobby where there were few people either sitting down. walking out or walking in. Nothing too strange on the outside, but something felt weird this time around.

"Careful...I sense..danger..."

Souhait whispered in your ear as you were walking towards the door, digging through your purse to check for anything you may have forgotten. You perked your head upwards, and without glancing at them you relaxed.

"How close is it?"

You asked, wondering who or what could've been so dangerous that they would have to alert you instead of just ignoring it, but knowing how they felt about leaving in the first place, you figured something may be wrong.

As you kept walking you passed a small group of people and one bumped into you as you walked past.

"Oh- Sorry-"

A slightly deep gruff, familiar voice spoke and turned halfway to look at you.

A chill went down your spine as time seemed to slow down for a split second, not even wanting to look at whoever you just bumped into, but taking a glance regardless and catching a glimpse of blonde hair. Whoever it was had looked and felt familiar, they could be seen as a threat.

Not to mention that they meant you no good in your current lifestyle.

You closed your eyes and turned your head as you smiled and waved it off, not wanting to anger or set off whoever it was by being rude.

"It's alright! Have a good night!"

Without giving him too much time to answer, you calmly walked away from him and towards the door. Hoping you didn't seem too suspicious, at least not to him rather than to the people surrounding you.

That chilling feeling never left as you approached the door and felt those eyes staring you down, as the room seemed to fall silent and you could only hear your footsteps rather than the many people inside the building.

Luckily you made it outside in a matter of seconds that only felt like hours. Clutching your pursed between your fingers, you took a deep breath of fresh air and kept walking down the sidewalk as normal.

However, your heart felt like it'd jump out of your body and down the nearest sewer drain.

"Blonde hair...Souhait is that-"

"...Yes...but...Calm down... He seemed...Busy...."

While their words were slightly comforting, it wasn't enough to completely get you to relax. Where would you guys go if things went wrong? You scouted the area, but not enough to completely throw them off if something goes wrong.

If he caught a glimpse of you and thought about thirty seconds then he'd remember and recognize you. They'd be after you all night if they figured out thanks to that one interaction. In that case, you would have to find another place to sleep.

Then again, Maybe it wasn't all that bad. What are the chances of them following you anyways?

It was zero to none. Right?

"(Name)! They....are watching.."

Cursing in your head, you picked up the pace and kept your eyes forward as if you didn't hear what Souhait whispered. You spoke under your breath, in a hushed tone so nobody else could hear what was being said.

"Who?"

"I can assume they are working for him...some are familiar others not so much...Do not...run..yet.."

Hearing them whisper all this made nothing better, you could feel your blood chill, sending shivers down your spine as you continued to the spot you were told to meet. A bus stop that was a few feet away from your apartment.

The excuse was that the driver wouldn't stop in front, but they didn't need to get a limo anyway, it was probably Victoria's idea. It would draw attention to you and probably make this situation much worse.

As you got closer you could hear someone calling your name, it was close and when you looked up a girl was waving at you from the car, with pale skin, blonde hair, and brown eyes. She smiled as she waved you towards the car.

"Hey! (Name)! Hurry your ass up! We don't wanna be late!"

"Now...Go!"

Right as Souhait whispered/yelled for you to run, you picked up the pace and sped towards the car, quickly being pulled in by the girl who called after you earlier.

Engulfed into a tight hug, it was nearly suffocating but it was so comforting to finally have reached the car.

When you got in one other person was sitting beside her.

A pale man with brown long hair tied back into a bun who had blue eyes, his name was Jio. Jio sat by the window on the far left.

Which was a lot better in this case considering that was the last place you wanted to sit.

Vincent was bald, with purple eyebrows and slightly slanted pink eyes, he was the tallest one there and also the most muscular. His muscles were made from mass, so he was wide and looked intimidating when he stood up.

Vincent sat across from you.

Victoria was the girl who called you over earlier, also Vincent's sister. She sat on your right, sandwiching you between her and Jio.

"So! No more fake IDs for you! How do you feel?"

Jio blurted out nearly as soon as the river pulled off, and you scoffed halfheartedly in response before answering his little question.

You probably would've been a tad bit more excited about this had you not run into those people earlier, so for that reason, you didn't even feel like drinking all too much tonight if you did at all.

"I'm glad I made it this far but I don't really-

Suddenly you felt someone put their arm over your shoulder and heard Jio grunt in pain, looking over you saw victoria glaring at him as she pulled you over closer to her and further away from him.

"Hey! You dumbass! Say Happy birthday to my darling (Name)!"

Victoria slung her arm over your shoulders as she dramatically slumped her head on top of yours, cradling you into her chest as she scolded Jio.

"Jeez! I was getting to that!"

Jio yelled out in response to Victoria's scolding. You chuckled again before looking over at Vincent, the oddly quiet one, and it worried you a little especially since he was never one to be so silent.

He'd usually stop Jio and Victoria from arguing, but tonight he looked...especially intimidating. It worried you. everything worried you right now.

"(Name)...Where...are...we going..."

Souhait Whispered into your ear and it made you think. Nobody told you where you were going, they just gave you a time and said there would be a house party of some sort but this isn't what you expected.

"Hey Victoria, where are we going?"

"Huh? Oh, I don't know, Vincent said he planned it all but he won't tell us anything! Says we talk too much!"

Victoria threw her right hand in the air and shook her head to the side as she rolled her eyes at the mention of her brother's words.

"Really?"

"Yeah! The nerve!"

You looked over at Vincent who smiled at you while Victoria ranted, you felt another chill go down your back.

It wasn't like he's never smiled before. Vincent's usually a sweetheart, always smiling but tonight was just different for some reason..his smile felt off...

"Vincent, where are we going?"

You weren't going to hesitate to ask him that. Not only did you want answers, but you also NEEDED them.

"...Can't say, it'll ruin the surprise."

You were suspicious about his answer, you didn't usually feel too uncomfortable around him. After all, Vincent was the most responsible in the group except for Souhait, and he seemed like someone you could trust.

Not to mention he was older by three years now.

You only hoped that it would stay that way and not backfire on you somehow.

After that, he was silent the rest of the ride, and so was Souhait. You couldn't understand why they were so quiet, but you just assumed that Souhait was thinking and Vincent didn't want to ruin the surprise.

Soon the car finally stopped, and Victoria opened the door for you, and then covered your eyes with her hands.

"Hey- Wait! Victoria I can't see!"

"That's the point of a surprise! Now come on and let me lead you in!"

It was a sweet gesture. You could understand why Victoria in specific was so excited to help you inside.

She's been the party planner since you met her and every year she's planned you a surprise party, and now she's letting her older brother do it.

If you had a family like hers, you'd be excited too.

"I don't think you should lead anyone/"

"Oh eat my ass Jio."

" you're so worried then grab their hand so they don't run into anything."

You chuckled as you walked along with Victoria and Jio. One kept your eyes covered and the other was holding onto your hand. Vincent was behind and walking slowly, you didn't know why and Souhaits silence concerned you.

As you got closer to wherever you guys were going, the air got colder, and the music got louder. So loud you could eventually feel it in your gut and chest as the bass boosted off the walls. Still, you continued to walk, now taking deep breaths.

"They...are no longer here..."

The sound of their words made you relax your muscles and let out a breath you had no idea that you were holding in. It made following Victoria and Jio much easier, still scary but not as much as before.

Knowing you would go to a possible public place with a possible stalker issue? It made this outing so much more of a hassle than it already was, and it didn't help your nerves that Vincent was acting so strange.

As you continued to walk, loud music, the smell of sweat and alcohol, and cold air all hit you at once causing you to flinch back, Yet with Victoria stopping right behind you, you couldn't get too far.

Finally, you heard Vincent's deep voice mutter some words, his tone alone still set chills down your spine.

"Happy birthday"

#x reader #x y/n #anime #x you #chrollo lucilfer #hxh x reader #hxh chrollo #chrollo hunter x hunter #platonic #shalnark x reader #shalnark+x+reader #phantom troupe #phinks x reader #chrollo is platonic #hunter hunter x reader #hunter x hunter x y/n #hunter x hunter #hxh 2011

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what-the-stories-have-foretold · 1 year

Note

How do they confess to fem reader

Fluff

Fir chrollo and Feitan (seperately ) plz

Of course 💕

Chrollo x gn!reader (200+ words), Feitan x gn!reader (500+ words)

Navi.

Warnings: mention of murder and torture in feitan´s part bc he´s feitan, reader bakes and cooks in feitan's part, Fei likens the reader to a bunny

The night was cool, though the sky was already clearer, signifying the coming of spring. He had picked you up in a sleek black car, waiting for you leaned against the door, dressed in a tuxedo. He drew you towards him by the waist, smiling lips finding your temple in a soft kiss before he opened the door for you and let you in.

It was quite the sensual night, air buzzing between you both. While you waited for the food, he sat leaned forward, gently holding your hands in his over the table. His thumb brushed over your skin as his eyes were fixated on you and only you.

The entire night his eyes never left yours for more than a moment, always finding them again after a quick glance at the waiter or your lips. His hands always sought yours out, and when you were eating, they were itching to feel your skin underneath them again.

He would soon enough, however. Under the starlit sky then, standing before the door to your home, he held your cheek and tilted your face up for the moon to illuminate. You were for his eyes only, your body only for his fingertips to caress. Your lips only for his lips to part.

You assume he had finally gotten used to you. After many months of being part of the Phantom Troupe - friends with the Phantom Troupe - he actually acknowledged you when you entered a room, shared a meaningful look with you when Phinks yet again made a fool of himself and once he even tried food that you had made.

He liked you, that much was clear even to you. He trusted you as much as he trusted the founding members, and he seemed to worry for you - in his own twisted way. When you got injured trying to capture someone, he would be far crueller than usual as he interrogated them.

It was Chrollo who called you to his side with a smile. Unlike Phinks and Nobunaga he had stayed quiet, not mentioning the obvious change in Feitan´s behaviour - let alone teasing him. You sometimes wondered, if the other two had a death wish making these kinds of innuendos towards Feitan.

Your face was still heated from their teasing when you followed Chrollo. Behind you, you could hear laughter turn into terrified screams as Phinks tried to flee his friend´s wrath. As the door closed, for a moment, you could feel a cold stare sending shivers down your back.

Chrollo - albeit often shockingly emotionally destitute - was very good at reading people. While understanding them seemed to be quite difficult for him at times, in this case, his taste in literature must have come in handy.

"You are incredibly lucky to have gotten on Feitan´s good side so quickly. I even doubt he´d eat food I made for him."

"To be fair I don´t think-" you broke down with a light giggle at the little scowl he sent you. Chrollo shook his head, before his expression turned serious.

"Most importantly, I want to let you know that from here on out a single misstep can signify your or another person´s death. If you are hurt - by anyone and in any way - they will die. Choose your words carefully or the Phantom Troupe or even your loved ones may not live to see another day." You tensed. "That is the love of Feitan. Fiercely loyal, but terrible. One misstep and you are dead. Remember that before you make any decision concerning him and you."

You nodded.

"Thank you, Chrollo."

He only hummed as you left.

Feitan awaited you as a shadow lurking before your room.

"What Boss say?"

You opened your mouth, but unsure what to say, you closed it again. Feitan laid his head to the side, before kicking himself off the wall and gesturing for you to open your door. Inside, he sauntered to the couch and reached out for a box of self-made cookies. When you still didn´t answer, he looked back at you, eyebrows raised.

"What? Cat bit your tongue?" his sharp teeth glimmered in the light.

"He simply told me that as a Phantom Troupe member, I should mind my actions."

Feitan frowned.

"That clear, no?"

"Well...more so because he said I am on your...good side?"

Feitan clicked his tongue.

"Like Phinks, so childish." He bared his teeth for a second before his eyes found yours. His gaze was calculating, as if trying to read you. Then, a smile broke out on his face.

"And what if true, hm?"

"Ah-" your eyes widened, and you fiddled with your fingers. Feitan laughed at that.

"So nervous. Like a bunny in cage," he hummed. "True. I like you. Question is: do you?"

You were unsure what to feel under that piercing gaze.

#chrollo x reader #hxh chrollo #chrollo imagine #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo hunter x hunter #feitan hxh #feitan hunter x hunter #feitan x reader #feitan #what-the-stories-have-foretold #hxh #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter #cafe employee

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ddarker-dreams · 1 year

Text

Spider Spectacles.

Chrollo x F Reader.

Various snippets that take place in the Hell Within Reach universe.

Warnings: Some mild not SFW implications, mentions of blood/violence (not towards Reader). Word count: 3.1k.

Phinks can’t believe these same hands that are capable of breaking necks with ease can’t tie a fucking tie.

If that isn’t bad enough, he’s stuck in this ridiculously restrictive suit, the fabric scratchy against his skin. Why anyone would actively choose to wear something like this is beyond him. From his perspective, it wreaks of being pretentious. To make matters worse, he’s fighting against the clock here. You’re to be his “date” for infiltrating tonight’s job. He’s holding things up with how long this is taking.

Just when he’s fantasizing over how he’ll choke some socialite goon with this stupid piece of fabric, you enter his line of sight. Though you’re wearing high heels, your footsteps made no sound, and he’d been too preoccupied with this torture device to sense your presence properly.

You stand before him, dressed elegantly, adorned in jewelry and more prominent makeup. Unlike himself, blending in with those plutocrats won’t pose an issue for you. He wonders if somewhere past your perfectly poised countenance, behind the drawn curtains that obscure your eyes’ true feelings, is there any prejudice toward him? Or the rest of the Troupe as a whole? Shal said you come from a family of bigwigs; why exactly you joined the Spider is beyond him.

He supposes he should trust in Chrollo’s judgment. That’s easier said than done, though.

Tonight would serve as an imperative litmus test. Both you and Phinks were to be the vanguard. Only Paku had seen you in action before, he can’t help but be curious about how it’ll go. Will you squirm at the sight of limbs being torn off? Swoon over disembowelment? Complain should any blood and gore splatter across your pretty dress?

He’ll know soon enough. For now, he assumes it’s only a matter of time before you turn on your heel, uninterested in a commoner’s woes.

Hah. There it is. You’re parting your painted lips, he can’t wait to stamp out whatever propriety-filled nonsense you spew—

“Could I be of any assistance?”

He sets his mouth in a thin, firm line. As much as he’d love to make a point by telling you no, he is technically the reason why you’re tight on time. Had there been the slightest hint of arrogance in your demeanor, he would’ve told you to fuck off, but as things currently stand, that’d be uncalled for.

“... Knock yourself out.”

With this, you set out to work, your hands finding the loose fabric hanging around his neck. It occurs to him then that he’s never seen you without gloves on. You’re always wearing that black leather pair, or in this case, opera gloves. He makes a mental note to talk to Shal for his theories later.

Phinks is treated to a whiff of your perfume when you get closer to him. It’s subtle yet pleasant, though he can’t quite put his finger on what specifically makes it up. Vanilla for sure. He’s smelled worse. Those harpies love to soak themselves in the most egregious scents in existence. He finds himself favoring Meteor City’s stench over the aroma found in high society functions.

Your ensemble isn’t needlessly flashy. Diamond stud earrings with a matching necklace and an off-the-shoulder navy blue evening dress. You must’ve used that woman paint or whatever it’s called to cover up your Spider tattoo. You haven’t plastered makeup on thick enough to make it seem like you moonlight as a clown either.

Before he knows it, you’re done. You straight then tie, then his lapels, smoothing over the many creases born from his frustration. Phinks feels his face heat up, despite the cold surroundings from the poorly insulated abandoned building. He coughs into his hands to cover up this damning evidence.

“Thank you for your patience,” the way you speak is so calm, so assured without spilling into arrogance. He thinks he’s catching a hint of an accent too. “I’ll be waiting outside. I look forward to working with you, Phinks.”

“Uh… yeah, same here.”

You pause, having apparently not expected him to return the sentiment verbally. After a moment’s deliberation, you nod, your face betraying nothing. He finds himself staring at the back of your figure until you’re out of sight. Huffing, he shoves his hands into his pockets, cursing himself for his momentary enchantment. He wasn’t able to be as passive-aggressive as he had hoped to better gauge your character.

This proves nothing, he thinks. I still can’t consider her one of us.

After a few unnecessarily long seconds, he manages to get back into his usual rhythm. He walks down the same path you did, kicking a rock while he does so, the sound echoing throughout the vast empty space. Phinks thinks back to the utmost care you displayed in helping him with such a menial task. It’s such a small, silly thing, but he can’t get the sight out of his head. What a pain this is turning out to be.

Well, Paku did ask him to get along with you… maybe it won’t be as egregious a notion as he originally thought. Maybe. He’ll have to give it some serious thought. So if he’s caught up in how pretty you smell, it’s for a very good reason, he tells himself.

ii.

“You have a very steady heartbeat.”

You’re tracing abstract art into his skin. Shapes, letters, the most memorable sentences from the book you just read; anything your satisfied yet weary mind could concoct.

Following the end of your passionate rendezvous, you’ve found yourself resting your head against Chrollo’s chest. In doing so, you’ve become intimately aware of several elements of his anatomy. His heartbeat is the most prominent addition.

His coarse fingers glide over the flesh of your forearm in an absentminded fashion. “Do you find it off-putting?”

The genuine candor backing his inquiry makes you scrunch your eyebrows together. “I can’t imagine why I would.”

You are both anomalies. Beings that exist in their own sphere, separate from the rest. If not for his conviction to seek you out, you would’ve remained a specter, intangible to all but a few. The peculiar life you have lived up until this point gives you little leverage to judge from.

“… It’s just a thought,” you hear the low rumble in his chest when he speaks. He takes your wrist into his hands, his thumb pressing against your pulse. Your breath catches in your throat. “I’ve come to realize that you’re better at being human than I am.”

“Better at being human?” You repeat the words back slowly, as if learning a new language. It’s foreign enough to essentially count. You might think it a joke if it had been coming from anyone else.

His free hand nestles itself in between your thighs. Despite yourself, the many years of training to have total control over your every bodily function — voluntarily and involuntary — your heart skips a beat. With enough focus, you rein the traitorous back under control, feeling defeated somehow.

“Come now, don’t pout.”

“I’m doing no such thing,” is your petulant response. You then take a deep breath to steady your voice. “This is a physiological response I haven’t adequately prepared myself for. With enough intentionality, I’ll get better at it.”

Silence ensues. You shift in your spot, discontentment suddenly flooding you. It’s a rare dilemma indeed for Chrollo to go quiet for so long. While the air itself isn’t thick or dripping with tension, an unknown energy buzzes throughout.

“I hadn’t intended to critique your abilities, dear.”

There’s something different about his voice — almost an underlying unsteadiness to it. You part your lips, a question blooming then wilting on your tongue at the small chuckle that slips from him. He tries to school himself, and while he achieves mild success, he ultimately succumbs to whatever has amused him.

His heartbeat quickens ever so slightly.

Anyone else may have missed it, but not you. Not when your senses are so attuned to your surroundings as they are.

“You might be getting better at ‘being human’, boss,” your lips curve upward. “Either that, or we’re both losing our touch.”

He hums and gives your thigh a squeeze. “Does the idea bother you?”

“No,” you respond in truth. Far faster than you thought you would too. “And what about you?”

“I believe it should, but…”

He trails off to navigate the tangled web that is his thoughts. Eventually, he arrives at a conclusion, one that transforms the buzz in the atmosphere to a soothing thrum.

“If you’re the cause, I can’t say I mind.”

iii.

“It’s delusion… pure delusion.”

This guy has spirit; Chrollo will give him that.

He sits hunched over in a chair, matted hair obscuring his bloodshot eyes. He sputters out a cough, blood coming up with it, and the abrupt pressure on his chest causes his swollen face to contort in pain. His spit is red when it hits the floor, a few loose hanging teeth clattering alongside it.

Still, the night is young. Chrollo would be sure to keep a close enough eye on his vitals so as to prevent a premature death. That just wouldn’t do. Not when there’s plenty more in store.

“It’s always the same… with lowborn scum like you,” the man rasps out. “Chasing after… what you can’t have. What’ll never belong to you.”

The man rolls his head back, chuckling despite the ache that accompanies doing so. “Lady [First] is in a league above your own. Whatever you think you have working out well for you now… it’s not meant to last.”

Chrollo dislikes hearing your name come from this man’s lips. He’s in a chatty mood now, likely wanting to hurt Chrollo in any way he possibly can. Given the insurmountable gap in physical strength, this must be what he’s left with, bitter words and desperate insults. It’s amusing in its own way. That this completely inconsequential individual thinks himself capable of driving a wedge between you and Chrollo.

Amusing, but mildly grating all the same.

“You know it’s true,” he tries again at the silence on Chrollo’s part. “That’s why you aren’t saying anything.”

More like I don’t consider you worth the effort, Chrollo muses. Or the air.

Another cough — followed up by more blood. The internal bleeding must be getting worse. Did Chrollo misjudge the strength behind his blows? No, that isn’t possible. He flexes his fingers, blankly staring down at his fists. It’s been a long time since he’s tortured someone in a way that got his hands dirty. This was a unique case, however, he wanted to feel the snap of bones and rip of cartilage.

It brought him satisfaction that he didn’t know he needed.

“When she learns the truth about who you are, it’ll all be over. Just you wait. Meteor City trash.”

This conclusion must’ve seemed definitive enough to the man, for he cuts his monologue short and gives the slightest crooked smile. As if he said anything worthwhile. As if he won whatever one-sided battle he thinks he’s fighting.

Chrollo wonders if he should take out his tongue so the man might witness how worthless the muscle is.

Maybe the man’s right that you’re in a league above his own. You were born into a world that he painstakingly crawled his way into, over mountains upon mountains of decaying corpses. Pure nobility, a hallowed ancestral line that can be found in historic textbooks. There are paintings of your ancestors in the most esteemed locations whereas Chrollo knows nothing of his heritage.

At first, he had set out to make you his greatest conquest, a thief’s magnum opus.

And now he would gladly lay down his life for you, or take as many lives as you wanted, should that be your desire.

He far prefers how fate discouraged his original designs.

Chrollo looks down on this poor, misguided man, who thought himself the vanguard of your honor without knowing the slightest thing about you. Your brilliant mind, latent depravity, and vicious loyalty, hidden behind a prim veneer. He can’t blame the man for falling for it. He almost did himself.

Finally, Chrollo gives him a single verbal response. He sees no reason to offer more than that. Not when everything he wants to say can be encapsulated so easily. Short and sweet, the way it should be.

“And if I told you she’s already aware?”

The man’s ragged breath gets caught in his throat. “That isn’t… surely that isn’t possible.”

Chrollo will let him ruminate on it.

After all, despair is best brewed within, as no one can find a worse enemy than their own thoughts.

iv.

Pakunoda has a tall glass of white wine, the glass’ rim stained with her burgundy lipstick.

Machi is sipping on a beer the restaurant had on tap.

Then there’s you, holding your water with lemon, occasionally stirring it with your straw.

In the background, a pianist tickles the ivories, adding to the general pleasant ambiance. There’s chatter from patrons, the clinking of silverware, and the waitstaff coming to and fro. Your soul feels at ease. Good company and good food are a balm for all woes.

“Your turn,” Pakunoda inclines her head toward you. Her diamond earrings catch the light and twinkle. “What’s the strangest Nen ability you’ve encountered?”

You’ve never considered yourself the best storyteller, but your audience of two is familiar, lessening the burdens of social pressure. Pakunoda regaled you both with a witty anecdote of her experience, whereas Machi’s dry and succinct account had its own charm. You comb your memory for a standout encounter to capture their interest with.

After a moment’s consideration, you land on just the thing.

“It was a couple of years ago,” you begin. “I was assigned a job to look into cargo that was stolen in transit, due to it posing a biohazard risk. When I finally narrowed down the search, it was in this tepid marshland. I sensed multiple lifeforms keeping an eye on me, but the aura didn’t belong to anything human.”

Pakunoda raises an eyebrow and Machi hums.

You take a sip of refreshing water before continuing, “Eventually, I found the hazardous material. There were no signs of the perpetrator, however. But when I got within ten feet of the barrels, it triggered some sort of automatic response. The lifeforms that were observing me finally came out and attacked.”

You exhale softly through your nose when you recall what happens next.

“The lifeforms were frogs.”

“Frogs?” Pakunoda questions, her lips morphing into a smile. “Actual frogs, or frogs made from Nen?”

“They were actual frogs, under a Manipulator’s control,” you reveal. Machi snorts. “As for the Nen user… I never found them. I did find human remains inside the frogs, though. My personal theory is that the prolonged exposure killed the user, activating post-mortem Nen. The bodies of the guards and the truck driver weren’t at the initial scene of the attack. I assume the frogs served a similar cleanup utility to Shizuku’s ability, but with a condition to consume deceased organisms.”

“So they ate their dead user?” Machi asks. You nod. “That’s fucked up.”

“... It did change my perception of frogs.”

When they both laugh, you can’t help but join them.

The remainder of the night is spent in high spirits, swapping stories and deepening your bonds.

“See anything interesting?” Chrollo queries.

“Hm?”

“It’s the third time you’ve looked over my shoulder in the past minute,” he explains. He chuckles softly at your nonplussed expression. “I hope it isn’t the male attendant who has caught your eye. I might get jealous.”

“Of course not,” you huff. He can be so troublesome at times, poking and prodding with that handsome smile of his. Your irritation never lasts long — he knows how to rile you up and pacify you. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the banter, though.

“Is it the dress, then?” he asks. You give yourself away by fidgeting slightly. “Ah. So it is.”

Chrollo’s otherworldly perception shouldn’t surprise you by now, yet in moments like this, you wonder how he has such insight into the human mind. He hadn’t looked behind himself once to identify what was in your line of sight. Did he catch how your gaze lingered on the boutique earlier and memorize its position? What lengths he goes to.

When you purse your lips, he presses on. “I can get it for you if you want.”

“It isn’t…” you trail off, finding it difficult to form the proper words, “It isn’t a style that would suit me.”

It's a light pink a-line dress at teacup length with floral lace trimmings. Very soft, very feminine.

Very not you.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve worn dresses before.”

“Well, yes. I have to for certain functions. Besides, none of them are like… like that.”

You stare down at your gloved hands, which are folded on your lap. It’s silly, ridiculous, even, this hollowness in your chest cavity you feel when you see certain things. There’s this yearning that leads you astray like the Pied Piper’s song. Your teacher advised you against indulging in needless excess. Everything from the food you eat to your clothes; it should be practical and purposeful. These are the tenets you were instilled with from as early on as you can remember.

“Like what?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You know very well what I mean.”

Chrollo rests his cheek on his fist. “Perhaps. I know what covetous eyes look like even better.”

“It isn’t worth dwelling on,” you straighten out a wrinkle in your clothes. “It’s pretty, that’s all there is to it.”

“It’d look far prettier on you.”

Heat floods your cheeks and your lips part. You go to say something, but find yourself unable, settling for clearing your throat instead. The smile on his face is different from those he uses with the intent to charm. It’s gentle, almost tender. There’s an underpinning of fondness that he reveals to no one aside from you.

You allow yourself one last glance at the dress before returning to your prior conversation, discussing the last book you’d both read.

The following morning, you open your closet door while wiping the sleep from your eyes. You assess the display of garments in familiar shades of black, gray, and occasionally navy blue. At the end of the hanging rack, however, you spot something that sticks out like a sore thumb. Something that was most definitely not there when you went to bed last night.

You run your fingers over the light pink fabric, biting back a giddy smile while you do so.

Chrollo is given a kiss on the cheek when handed his morning coffee.

#chrollo x reader #hxh x reader #phantom troupe x reader #hell within reach #my stuff

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ataraxiaspainting · 16 days

Text

Trick or Treat!

-> the air is deathly still. you can swear your walls shake and untouched doorknobs twist. it's that time of year again... yep. another event to celebrate all hallows eve!

-> how the event works...

the trick or treat event will have a total of nineteen stories originating from my own ideas, but people can also send in their requests until october 8th! please do not request anything beyond this date or those requests will be saved until the next time asks are open! nsfw requests are open, but only for people who have 18+ in their bio!

this is an x reader event, and not a character x character event. no exceptions will be made. requests must also follow my rules.

all potential characters for asks will be listed below, and all characters will be written with yandere or darkfic in mind unless stated otherwise.

you can choose up to three characters, separate or otherwise! if you do not have a concept for your character, i will just do my own concept with them!

-> potential characters...

jujutsu kaisen - gojo satoru, geto suguru, mahito, sukuna ryomen, nanami kento, mei mei, megumi fushiguro, yuji itadori, toji fushigoro

hunter x hunter - chrollo lucilfer, nobunaga hazama, feitan portor, machi komacine, hisoka morrow, phinks magcub, shalnark, franklin bordeau, shizuku murasaki, pakunoda, bonolenov, uvogin, kurapika, illumi zoldyck, pariston hill

genshin impact - scaramouche/wanderer, zhongli, albedo, xiao, eula, raiden shogun, kazuha, childe, cyno, alhaitham, kaveh, diluc, kaeya, kamisato ayato, arlecchino, columbina, capitano, dottore, pantalone, beidou

honkai: star rail - kafka, blade, dan heng/imbibitor lunae, aventurine, dr. ratio, jing yuan, sunday, black swan, topaz, jade, ruan mei, serval, boothill, argenti

twisted wonderland - malleus draconia, lilia vanrouge, leona kingscholar, jade leech, floyd leech, azul ashengrotto, riddle rosehearts, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, rook hunt, rollo flamm, idia shround, kalim al-asim, silver, sebek zigvolt, neige leblanche, che'nya, ace trappola, deuce space, cater diamond, trey clover, ruggie bucchi, jack howl, epel felmier

other fandoms in my fandom list (on pinned post) can be included as well!

-> examples of requests include...

yan blade + body motification eula + cute date night yan chrollo + amnesiac reader

-> planned stories...

inside god crawls the devil - yan (demon) chrollo x f (guardian angel) reader

love letters - yan (college au) chrollo x f reader (non-con)

black and blue - yan blade x gn reader

again - yan (general) blade x gn reader

magia - yan albedo x gn reader

artistic contributions - yan feitan x f reader x yan phinks (non-con)

holiness consumes rising flames - yan (fake archon) scaramouche x gn reader

a sinning savior - yan geto x f reader x yan gojo

solace in you - yan nobunaga x f reader

the drowning dove and the fish in a birdcage - yan dr. ratio x gn reader x yan aventurine

the tragedy of rage - yan shigaraki x f reader

so close, yet so far - yan dabi x f reader

grounds of worship - yan sunday x gn reader

the weight of the world - yan alhaitham x gn reader

pulling into the tide - yan nanami x f reader

a rose by any other name would be just as sweet - yan (vampire) diluc x f reader

watching from the outside - yan overhaul x f reader

one last time - yan (archon) childe x gn (knight) reader

stuck replaying the memory - yan aventurine x gn (avgin) reader

#aya ambles

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heavenlyakin · 2 years

Text

Mine

Phinks x Fem!Reader

wc: 3.7k

Warnings: fem reader, fingering, vaginal sex, protected sex, violence in a scene (not against reader), and yandere themes. You can always message me to add more warnings!

This was a commission so some aspects were made to fit the commissioner. If you're interested in commissioning me, just shoot me a message!

A faint flame from a cigarette lighter catches your eye from across the alley. Shifting your gaze up from your phone you see the man who lit a fresh one. The smell of smoke tingles your nose, and you inhale deeply. It’s been a while since you’ve had one; in fact, it might have been around this time last year when your best friend stole a pack from her shitty ex before moving across the country.

You’re not sure what it is: the man with the cigarette or the smell of it. Whichever, they have your attention now. He towers over you, crouched down on a milk crate during your break from the restaurant you’ve been at for the last year. His face isn’t particularly friendly, actually, he has a rather scary look graced upon his face. His frown would scare most people away, but you’re too busy looking at his dark eyes and blonde hair to really give yourself a chance to feel anything.

“What are you looking at?” He asks, aggression clear in his tone.

“You, obviously,” you shoot back. Today has been rough enough with rude customers, a shitty manager, and two of the kitchen staff walking out. “Why are you even in this alleyway? You don’t work here.”

He blows smoke out, a cloud covering his face. You suppose that’s the only answer you’re going to get. He finishes another long drag then tosses the burnt-out cigarette to the ground, smashing it into the concrete with the toe of his black shoes.

“Whatever dude, just don’t hang out here too long. My boss comes out here and shoos people away with brooms if they’re not supposed to be here.” You stand up, dusting off the back of your pants and looking up at the man who towers over you, even standing at your tallest.

Something between a laugh and a scoff leaves his body, but you ignore it. It’s his problem if Brad decides to give him hell later.

The rest of your shift drags with so few customers. What feels like an hour turns out to have been only ten minutes, and on and on and on. You make it to your last break before closing with your sanity barely intact. You hang up your server apron and step outside into the alleyway to take your break out in the cool night air.

You stop midway through the entry, noticing the strange man is still there, leaning against the brick wall of the boutique next door. After a moment of frowning at him, you go to your favorite spot on the milk crate across from him and fast enough away from the dumpster that you won’t get sick to your stomach.

“I see you’re still waiting here,” you say leaning your elbows onto your knees and holding your chin up.

“And you’re here again,” he adds, seeming somewhat more friendly than before.

“I’m shocked Brad didn’t come run you off,” you comment.

“He knows better than to do that,” he tells you, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a near empty pack of cigarettes. “The prick hasn’t shown his face all afternoon. I’m getting impatient.”

“You’re waiting on him?” Your curiosity is getting the best of you. “What could you possibly want with Brad?”

Not to shit on him, but he’s not the most charismatic guy. Nor is he someone who would go looking for trouble. Which you assume this man in the alley is.

“He owes my boss a debt,” is all he says and then outs the half-smoked cigarette out on the brick behind him. He takes a step forward and kneels down to your level, so he’s face to face with you. “So, tell me, is he even in that shithole restaurant or not?”

“I haven’t seen him all day, but he could be in the office.” You shrug, then hold out your hand. “For a cigarette, I’ll go get him for you.”

The blonde frowns, “What if he’s not there?”

“I’ll give you his phone number and you can harass him that way, I guess.”

“Wow,” he laughs, a smile creeping on his cheeks. “You’d sell out your boss for a single cigarette. I can only imagine what my boss would think of this.”

You shrug and smile. “It’s not like Brad inspires loyalty here. Like you said, it’s a shithole. So, are you giving me one or not?”

He holds out the pack and you take one, his last one. “Thanks, now let me have a light.” You tuck it between your lips as he lights the end for you.

The first taste of nicotine and smoke secures your decision. It is worth it.

“Hey Brad, can you help me out back? Someone flipped the dumpster over again and I can’t get it back on my own,” you ask sweetly, leaning against the door frame of his office.

“Jesus Christ, why does this keep happening?” He rubs his face in frustration then stands up.

You let him lead the way through the kitchen and out the back. Brad freezes in the doorway and you laugh, making him turn around and look at you. He looks furious, but he steps outside anyway. You follow him, curious to see what’s going to happen with the stranger and Brad.

It’s quick, so quick you barely see it. One second Brad is standing, the next he’s on the ground with a clearly broken jaw. Before you can register more, a foot is in his stomach and he’s coughing up blood. Brad isn’t exactly the best boss in the world, but you’re not sure if he deserves this. Then again, you don’t know what he’s done to elicit this sort of response from the stranger.

“You should leave,” he barks out after another kick to Brads stomach.

You look up and see he’s smiling, actually smiling. You smile back, unsure why you’re reacting this way. You’re not even sure if it’s out of character for you really, but maybe you’re just in shock.

Brad is a bloody mess after another ten minutes of being beat. Whatever he did, you’re sure he won’t do it again. You watch the whole time, not really sure why you’re so interested. You’ve never hated your boss, but something about this is so horrific you can’t look away. The blonde man’s knuckles are covered in blood by the time he’s done, he leans back against the brick wall.

“Cigarette?” He asks, offering up a fresh pack from his back pocket.

You nod, taking another and his lighter with it. “So, what did Brad do to deserve that?” You ask, tossing the lighter back to him.

“He owes my boss a lot of money.” He shrugs then pulls out a rag from his pocket to wipe his hands off with.

“I have to close up the restaurant, so if you want you can wash them off inside.” You offer, blowing smoke towards him. “Afterall, I’m sure he won’t say anything about it.” You point at Brad on the ground. You can see his chest barely rising and falling.

“Alright,” he shrugs and walks through the kitchen door and into the restaurant.

You follow him in, tossing the cigarette butt on the ground. The man is already washing his hands in the dish sink when you’re inside, so you lock the back door to start closing. “Should I call someone to help Brad?”

“I don’t care what you do. Just don’t say I was here, or you’ll regret it.” The threat comes out of him so smoothly you almost don’t realize that it is one.

“Alright,” you decide against calling an ambulance or the police. Whatever mess he got himself into, he can get himself out of it.

Before you give yourself time to ponder what kind of person that thought process makes you, you grab a broom and go about your normal closing tasks. After a few minutes your mind is heavier than ever with thoughts about today’s sequence of events. The restaurant is fully swept by the time the stranger comes out of the kitchen and into the dining room. With Brad gone, it’s just you and this man in the entire place.

“What’s your name,” you ask, emptying the dustpan into the garbage by the kitchen door.

He gives you a suspicious look but answers, “Phinks.”

“I’m -----,” you tell him before he leaves, not looking back.

Weeks pass and you’re not surprised to find out that Brad was let go from the Restaurant, making it chaotic to function until they found his replacement. Phinks crosses your mind every time you go out to take a break behind the building, but you haven’t seen him since that night he showed up. You’re not exactly sure why he crosses your mind so often, but you do find yourself fantasizing about the way his hair would feel tangled in your fingers.

Today is one of those days.

It’s been a slow afternoon. Plus, your new manager, Theresa, has been on everyone’s asses about side work. It seems redundant since everyone knows what they need to do anyway. It’s days like this where you actually miss Brad’s laidback management style, even with all his faults.

However, your breaks seem to come faster now that you’re busier. When you step outside, you can’t help but glance around, looking for Phinks. As usual, he’s not there. You take a seat on your trust milkcrate and pull up twitter on your phone. Part of you wants to search his name, knowing there can’t be too many people with it, but the other part is calling you a crazy stalker.

“Smoke?” A gruff voice breaks you from your train of thought and you look up to see none other than the man you considered cyber stalking.

“Please,” you reply, a bit breathless. He hands you a cigarette and the lighter he offered. “Here to commit another crime?” You tease with the cigarette between your lips.

“Not today. Just passing by.” He tells you, taking a seat on another milk crate.

The quite tension between you builds with each second passes with neither of you speaking. It’s apparent he wasn’t just passing by since you’ve never seen him in this area before. Considering you spend nearly every day within a few blocks of the restaurant or your apartment nearby, you just know he’s had to gone out of his way to come here.

You put out the cigarette on the concrete below. “So, why are you here?”

He rolls his eyes, not speaking still.

“Are you stalking me?” You ask, half joking.

“Totally, I just can’t get enough of you.” He says smoothly with a glimmer in his eye.

“I guess I should be scared then,” you lean forward, your face now only a few inches from him.

“Most people are scared when I’m around, that wouldn’t surprise me.”

You grin as he starts to smirk. “I’m not, though.”

“You must be incredibly stupid then,” he adds, leaning even closer to you. You’re face to face with him now.

“Or,” you roll your eyes, ignoring the fact he just insulted you, “you’re not as scary as you think.”

He pulls back, and you feel like you’ve said the wrong thing. However, you notice he starts to look around. Almost like he’s checking for something. Before you can take another breath, his hand has moved to your face, fingers gripping you sternly but somehow without hurting you.

You feel his lips brush against yours, and you inhale quickly before you’re able to react. Slowly, you allow yourself to give in, kissing him back. He tastes like cigarettes and mint, something you hadn’t expected. He must have been chewing gum earlier today, or it’s the taste of his toothpaste. The thought almost makes you giggle.

He pulls away, “Let’s get out of here.” A statement, not a question.

Without hesitation you follow him. Fuck working and fuck that bitch Theresa.

Phinks lead you a way down the street, not looking ack to see if you’re following. He must trust that you would have followed him despite not giving an answer. He brings you down another alley and to a sleek black car. He’s opening the door before you can try and see what kind of car it is, not that it matters now.

You slide in the backseat, and he follows you, pushing you back against the seat. The door slams shut as he hovers over you, looking at you like you’re the most glorious thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. You reach up, pulling him down onto you by his shirt. He kisses you again and your body ignites. Heat flutters through you from your head to toes.

His body is heavy against you. Your hands wander down his chest and to his stomach, feeling each crevice of his abs. You moan as he bites your bottom lip gently, pulling it between his teeth and releasing it. Your eyes flutter open, and you realize what’s going to happen next.

“Please tell me you have a condom.”

“Shut up, I’m not that stupid.” He grumbles, reaching to the front seat. He drops the condom on your stomach and smirks. “My lady,” he teases.

“You shut up now.” You roll your eyes and start to pull his shirt over his head.

He helps you, shrugging it off and tossing it to the front seats. You can’t help but stare at his form laid bare in front of you. Every bit of his skin is smooth and toned to perfection. You can only imagine how he’s managed to get his body in this shape, but that just makes your mind start to run wild with images of him hot and sweaty in the gym.

He reaches for your top; his fingers are cold on your skin as he starts to pull it up off you. Sitting up, you grab his arms to pull yourself up. As your top comes off, you let go, falling back against the leather seats of his car.

Phinks smiles at you, taking you in as you manage to unclasp your bra behind you. He leans down, kissing your neck. Slowly, your body reacts, a rush flowing through you and making your toes curl.

How long has it been since you’ve done this? You can’t remember. Your body knows it’s been too long and is reacting faster than you can think. Part of you is embarrassed by the way you feel like moaning already, but the other is screaming for you to let it out. So, you do.

Your moan cuts through the quiet sounds of his lips on your skin and you feel him throb against your stomach. You’re glad you let that out.

“Fuck this,” he growls in your ear while forcing his pants down his thighs.

You follow, wiggling under him to manage to get out of your work jeans. You struggle getting them off your ankles; Phinks pulls them off and drops them on the floorboard. Now you’re left in your underwear, and Phinks is completely nude on top of you. You take a few moments to admire his body above yours, toned and golden.

With his right hand, he grazes his fingers down your side, sending shockwaves through your body. His fingers loop through the waistband of your underwear and he smiles wickedly.

“I like these,” he snaps the black fabric against your skin, and you laugh. “But, not enough to keep them.”

With both hands, he grips your panties, pulling them apart and ripping them off your body in one tug. If you hadn’t already been aroused, this would have surely done it for you. His fingers tease your clit, surprising you at his first move to tease you. You bite your bottom lip, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling.

“No, I want you to watch,” he stops moving his fingers, and you whine but open your eyes. “That’s better, pretty girl.”

You watch as his fingers slide down, teasing your entrance and glistening with your wetness. His middle fingers slides in first, just a few centimeters and you feel the urge to close your eyes and just lay back and let him do whatever he wants, but you don’t. You bite back a moan and watch as he pleases you.

He pumps his finger fully in you, and out, and then back in again. You moan loudly, fingers digging into the leather seat of his car. Your chest rises and falls as he keeps teasing you, adding another finger and filling you up more. You grip his wrist with your right hand, your left steadying you on the seat as his fingers move faster, fucking you harder.

“Fuck,” you whimper breathlessly.

Phinks leans forward and kisses you, his tongue slipping between your lips while he finger fucks you. You kiss him back, desperate for the closeness. His fingers pull out of you quickly, leaving you gasping for air against his lips and clenching around nothing.

“Fuck you,” you say quietly, looking at his stupid grin that’s full of excitement. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Oh, I will.” You feel the tip of his cock prod at you between your legs and you grin.

He’s so much thicker than you expected, even after seeing him. You gasp as he slides in you, adjusting to his size while tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Stretching around his cock, you moan feeling that oh so familiar pleasant sting. He thrusts in you a few times, slowly letting you adjust. You’d be insulted with anyone else, but you desperately need to adjust to the mass of him.

After a few rough thrusts Phinks wraps his arms around you, and you hook your legs around his waist. You almost yelp as he readjusts you so you’re ready to ride him as he sits back. The arrogant smile on his lips doesn’t piss you off but challenges you instead. You know you’re going to give him the best ride he’s ever had.

Slowly, you grip his shoulders, pressing your breasts up close to his face and his smile turns down with a more serious gaze. You rise up once, feeling his cock slip out of you slowly almost until it’s ready to fall out until taking it back in, to the hilt.

Now, it’s his turn to tip his head back and let out the most glorious sound you’ve ever heard. His moans fill the silence in the car, and you clench around his cock. It only makes him moan louder, a glorious sound coming from deep inside his throat. You smile, pressing a kiss you his neck and running your tongue across the soft skin.

You feel his body shiver under you, and you want to whine at the pure satisfaction of it all. Something about Phinks looking completely at your whim now is so opposite of what you’d seen of him before. It’s thrilling really, knowing you have all the power even if he could snap you in half if he wanted; but instead, he wants to let you pleasure him while you get off on his cock.

“I’m not going to make it much longer,” you whimper, your pace now consistent as you ride him. “I need to cum, now.”

“You can wait,” he coos, slipping his hands down to your hips and slowing your pace. He guides you his fingers digging into your skin.

His lips are on yours again and he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, biting hard. You cry out as he laughs, but a surge of energy goes through you making you tingle all over. Your toes curl as he thrusts up into you, shocking you.

“Fuck, oh fuck” you moan as he continues to fuck you while holding your hips still. Maybe this is really why he wanted you on top because now he has all the control. All that’s left to do is hold onto his shoulders and hope your nails aren’t hurting him too badly.

“Cum,” he says quietly, just against your ear before nipping at the lope with his teeth. It takes you off guard.

You cum, crying out a mix of his name and fuck, not really sure where one ends and the other begins. Your toes curl and your legs go weak. If you weren’t on top of him, with his hands steadying you, you’re sure you would have collapsed.

He’s still fucking you, only slower now and you start to wonder if he’s going to cum soon. Or if he’s someone who could go on forever until you’re a babbling mess unable to form a single thought from being so overstimulated. Part of you wants to see if he could accomplish that but the other part knows you desperately want to make him cum now.

As you’re lost in the afterglow of pleasure and thought, you feel his cock twitch. He’s going to cum, you realize. It makes you force another soft moan, wanting to encourage him but unable to formulate words.

Phinks cums, or at least you suspect since he stops fucking you. The condom didn’t bust at least, you think. It’s a few moments before he settles you down on his lap after pulling out of you and removing the condom. You don’t pay attention to what he does with it, just hoping he didn’t liter and throw it outside of the car.

You let your body relax against his, the warmth radiating off you both. It’s silent for the most part, besides the quiet pants Phinks lets out every other breath. You relish in it, knowing this could either be the first or last time this happens. Either way, you’re happy with what’s happened even if you were limited to the space of the car.

His loss, you think.

“You’re not going back to that damned restaurant, alright?” He breaks the silence, and you furrow your brows.

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, knowing he can’t see your reaction with your cheek against his chest and eyes looking down away from his face.

“I’m serious,” he laughs this time. “Fuck, you’re so much better than I imagined.”

You laugh this time, was he getting himself off imagining this over the last few weeks? “Weirdo,” you comment, not meaning it at all.

A few more minutes pass until he moves you off his lap and onto the seat beside him. He wraps his arms around your shoulder. “You’re mine now.”

#🍃.writing #🍃.hxh #hxh smut #hunter x hunter smut #phinks smut

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