#but I feel so gross and guilty and bad for feeling like I only go to my LDRs when someone IRL fucks me up
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I miss. someone. AUGH
#and it's not even my ex..#lack of emotional permanence destroying me and my relationships#platonic or romantic..#LDRs are fucked up and evil and I cannot do them but also. they're all I got cause everyone IRL leaves lol#but I feel so gross and guilty and bad for feeling like I only go to my LDRs when someone IRL fucks me up#bc they deserve more consistency from me but I literally. can't.#augh
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hyper bc I had a latte and gay club music playing so I cleaned the kitchen and living room in a record time of 42 minutes
#i emptied the dishwasher+ filled it up w dirty dishes + cleaned all the counter tops + wiped down the kitchen table + sweeped the floors#and put away miscellaneous objects that were in the wrong places#now im going to fold my baba and mamas laundry bc i still have energy amd because i feel immensely guilty for the argument we had yesterday#i am literally such a bad person this is the least i can do#i feel like im 17 all over again#like i used to fight with them so much and then spend hours every weekend cleaning the whole house to prove#that i wasn't a bad daughter#the only difference is now im 20 and i get drained way faster so i only do the whole cleaning thing when we have a particularly nasty fight#i guess. that means we dont fight as often . a good thing#but idk i feel so gross and immature and awful my parents r in their 50s i have to get a grip#like yes im allowed to be upset when they say annoying things to me constantly but i shouldnt be so reactionary#like time and place bro -> me to myself#i get so excessively upset 😭 like something worthy of a few tense words ends up being a crying and screaming affair when im irritable#and yes we made up but i feel like i should've never been born i hope the clean house makes me seem like less of a mistake haha. i want to#die about it#z.post
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he said he would stop bothering us since I apologized then like days after he goes on an alt and bothers, or what happened a week ago or so I HATE HIM HFHBBNNJhhrvrvrhhrrrjjjjjjj
#don't let them see this!#i feel very hypocrite because i'm bad and disgusting and i shouldn't like#i shouldn't be mad at him for that because we're. so very alike.#and i hate that he influenced me and i influenced him and everytime i think of him i feel awful and dirty and bad#i feel like im the bad person and he was right#he hurt himself because of me and i feel. awful for it.#i want him to get better but he terrifies me still#i dont want him to hurt me because i know he could#and then theres the fact that i know it's my fault any of this happened or#just being. very disgusting about it all because fear responses#i hate how i know we both care about eachother in very different weird ways i#i am still very grossed out by some of his messages it makes me feel so ill whenever i read stuff from him#and i hate how hes right about so much and he only is because hes projecting#and because we're alike its judt#ashhghhhgj#i really fucking hate jude#scout speaks#i cant even say he ruined me regardless of how i feel because i was probably always like this#i wish i was a jellyfish#twins in paradise music has been very comforting and today has been very guilty and awful#guilty / shameful ?#why do i linger on this stuff why do i feel so scared hes going to get me why do i??? pluh..#its best not to linger on this qnd i do anyway because i think I'll be safer if i do and all it does is make me feel bad#the actual worst thing is thinking anyone i get close to is him or friends with him and secretly trying to get info on me or hurt me and!!#agh
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The Jason brainrot is so real today because tell me why I was at the hospital for food poisoning and all I could think about was how soft and caring Jason would be.
He’d go to the hospital with you and caress your shoulders. He’d keep his hand on your lower back, giving your hip a comforting squeeze every now and then. He’d let you lean into him while you wait for your turn (side note FUCK THE ER because the wait time today was absolutely insane. I was there for 6 fucking hours, only for them to be like oh lol, here’s an IV and get me out in under an hour). Anyways, once you’re home, he’d kiss your forehead and hold your hair back when you need to throw up, he’d feed you apple sauce and bring you water.
Also, he doesn’t get grossed out easily, he’s seen worse things, so he would clean up your mess, no problem. You would not feel judged or guilty at all, he’d make you feel so safe.
You can always rely on him.
Why is he also the type of person to be like “see, I told you not to eat that, you’re not allowed to eat out anymore, I’m cooking for you.” He’s such a mom sometimes, you’d actually get called out for all your bad habits, but it’s okay he would take care of you the whole time and give you cuddles after.
You guys remember when I said Jason’s love language is acts of service? Yeah, he’s really bringing that out when you’re sick.
#gn!reader#jason todd#red hood#jason todd imagine#jason todd x reader#red hood imagine#red hood x reader#jason todd headcanon#red hood headcanon#batfam
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OTP prompts based on a reddit thread I saw today titled, "What is something a friend did that accidentally turned you on?"
A licks B's hand to try grossing B out, but B wants to kiss A afterwards
A loans B their hoodie and realizes it smells really good when B returns it
A gets knots in their back and one day complains about it to B, who immediately comes over and tells A to relax before massaging the knot out
A is on the edge of having a panic attack when B reaches down and grabs A by the chin and asks if they're doing okay, distracting A
A and B go to a concert together, where A puts their finger through B's belt loop so they don't get lost or separated, flustering B
B places a hand on A's forearm and keeps it there while they talk/ask a question
A and B are working on an art project together that involves paint when B comments on there being some on A's face. B tells A to close their eyes and wipes it away, and when A opens their eyes, they see B leaning in for a kiss.
A and B are roommates, and A thinks B smells really good. A asks B what they wear to smell so nice, only to find out B doesn't wear anything, and A just likes the way B smells.
A puts their and on B's hip by accident and feels B's underwear beneath their thin clothes/dress
B cries on A's shoulder, and A feels guilty for getting turned on by it
A, B, and C are on a roadtrip together, and the hotel has one bed and one couch. C calls the couch, and A and B get stuck in the bed together. A wakes up to B cuddling them in their sleep
B is doing A's makeup but A isn't angling their head right, so B grabs their chin and tilts it up towards them, flustering A
A is laying down in the morning after a sleepover with B when B climbs on top of them, chest pressed to A's back, and tells them to wake up and that breakfast is ready
B hugs A while A confides in B about their bad day
A keeps their work keys clipped to their belt loop, but occasionally B needs to use them and unclips them themself, making A feel tingly each time
B asks A to do something for them, and says "good girl" when they do it, turning A into a blushing mess. (Optional: A may question their gender afterwards)
A sits on B's lap and B grows very warm
A asks B if their lips are chapped and gets really close to B
B presses down on A's bruises absentmindedly, distracting A
A is talking to B but B isn't paying attention, so A interlocks their fingers with B's to keep their attention on them
A and B are at a pool party wearing their bathing suits when B reaches over A and puts their hand on A's thigh for support
A strokes B's hair for so long that B begins to fall asleep from how nice it feels
A usually goes by a nickname, but B has taken a shine to using A's full name which makes A feel a way
#prompts#otp#otp prompts#writing prompts#fic prompts#yall are free to send me any or reblog this or whatever. link to the reddit thread in the replies!
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Casanova (Cheating!Sasuke x AFAB!Reader pt. ii)
CW: Sasuke being a horrible husband/father/baby daddy (like actually he’s horrendous 😭). Throwing up (it’s a little gross, sorry), hand job, lip biting, dry humping, unprotected piv (please don’t be stupid), creampie (PLEASE DONT BE STUPID), breeder!sasuke, shoulder biting, degradation and slight praise, spitting, breast play, lmk what i missed !! (SPOILER WARNING!!!: pregnancy sex)
18+ MDNI
Sasuke went home that night a wreck. His feelings were entirely conflicted. Did he do the right thing? No- of course he did?! You were in need of help and only he could deliver. If anyone else were in his position they would’ve done the same thing. For crying out loud- you practically straddled him and barely left room for denial. Then again… Sasuke didn’t deny you the opportunity… But you were begging for it- needing it-
“Sasuke… is everything alright?” The sweet voice of his wife brought him out of his daze. He cleared his throat before taking a sip of water.
“Y-Yeah… long day…” He said softly, setting the glass back down on the table before picking up his fork and digging into the home cooked meal. The home cooked meal his wife made him. His wife Sakura.
“Do you want to talk about it-“
“No!” He raise his voice nervously. Sarada looked up from her own meal with wide eyes. She glanced from between her mother and her father, a brow raised in confusion.
“Um… Dad?” She asked.
“Y-Yes?”
“Is everything okay?” His daughter asked. He looked at her with a broken heart, the product of he and his wife’s love encapsulated in a single child, practically berating him for what he had done to their family. She knows… she has to…
“I um… Yeah… I’m fine. I’m sorry it’s just one of those days, you know? I think I’m just tired.” Sasuke shook his head, then abruptly stood up from the table.
“Going to bed already?” Sakura asked, getting out of her chair to collect his plate and bring it to the sink.
“Yeah, I think so. I’ve had a long day and tomorrow I write my mission report. Dinner was great, Sakura. Goodnight you two.” He said, walking over to the bedroom he and Sakura shared.
Upon returning home he promptly took a shower, scrubbing his whole body of the adultery he committed off, trying to erase the sin from his skin. To no avail- he still felt awful. He felt even worse staring at the bed he would share with his wife, how they slept next to eachother every night they were both home.
Sasuke wanted nothing more than to sleep on the couch- he would even sleep outside after doing what he did. But he knew it would raise suspicions, so he did what he usually would do and got into his pajamas, slipping into the soft bedding and closing his eyes to sleep.
Sasuke woke up to soft hands under his shirt, he recognized them.
“What are you doing?” he grumbled sleepily.
“Sorry, sometimes I do this to our pillows when you’re not home. Bad habit, I forgot you came back tonight.” Sakura smiled, nestling her neck into the crook of his neck.
“Don’t be sorry, we’re married.” Sasuke almost laughed.
“You’re right,” Sakura giggled, her hands trailing down his abdomen slowly. Sasuke inhaled deeply, feeling her hands break past his waistband and land at his crotch.
“What are you up to?”
“Well you said it yourself we’re married. It’s got me thinking about how intimate we used to be. How intimate we should be again.” Sakura said, her hand wrapping around his shaft. Sasukes breath hitched, his hand coming up to caress the arm Sakura had draped around him.
Sakura gently gripped Sasukes shaft, moving up and down his member, a finger tracing along the head of his cock. She bit her lip, her finger pressing into his tip to try to gather any precum he had. Sasuke felt his face grow hot, still guilty about the affair from earlier that day.
“Um… is everything okay?” Sakura asked, her hand stilling around his dick.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“I mean… you’re still… y’know….”
“Still…?”
“Soft.”
Sasukes heart sunk. He didn’t even realize it until now. He shifted under the blankets, backing up into Sakura further.
“Here, try now.”
“Okay,” Sakura hummed, gently kissing his neck. The kisses helped, precum starting to flow out from his cock and he was about half mast a few minutes into the handjob.
But Sasuke couldn’t help it, even though he was comfortable in bed, had his wife next to him and everything he would need to get off, he couldn’t. Not when all he was thinking about was how you mounted and rode him for what felt like hours that afternoon.
“Enjoying yourself?” Sakura purred, licking a stripe up his neck.
“Yeah…” Sasuke lied. After a few more pumps he couldn’t take it anymore and with the hand he had on her arm, he gently pushed Sakuras hand off of him.
“Sasuke…?”
“It’s fine, really. I’m just tired. Let’s save this for tomorrow, please?” He asked, still not turning around to face her.
“Oh, yeah sure. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you up.” Sakura said softly.
“It’s fine. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight…”
____________________________________________
Sasuke woke up early that morning, he needed to get out of the house desperately. The only way he could get his mind off of you was with work. But said work was writing the mission report on the genjutsu user from just outside the village. The same genjutsu user who held you prisoner to your own urges, eventually holding Sasuke a prisoner of his own as well.
He put his pen down, unable to shake you from his brain. He left the office and took of to your house, not caring how early it was to wake you- he just needed to see you that desperately.
When Sasuke knocked at your door you opened it wiping your eyes. Your skin seemed paler than usual, your body fatigued. He felt bad, assuming he had done a number on you.
“May I come in?” Sasuke asked, looking around nervously.
“What are you? Some kind of vampire?” You asked with folded arms. “Yes you can come inside.” You shut the door behind him as he walked inside.
“Sorry to come by unannounced like this, especially this early…” Sasuke apologized. You shrugged.
“It’s fine, besides… I’ve been up for a few hours already…” You murmured softly, shifting nervously.
“Oh, well I guess it’s good timing then.”
“Maybe for you…” you said.
“Listen I need to talk to you.”
“Yeah, well so do I.” You seemed distant, slightly uncomfortable around Sasuke. He picked up on it quite quickly.
“It’s a good thing we’re on the same page then. About the mission report-“
“I’m pregnant.”
Sasuke paused. He felt adrenaline pumping through him, tensing up every muscle in his body. He could hear your words echo through his mind, over and over again. He couldn’t move.
“I…I’m sorry?” He asked, face as white a ghost, his eyes desperately searching yours to see if you were lying.
“I’m pregnant.” You said again, voice shaking.
Sasuke felt his legs give out, he fell to the ground, his ass hitting your wooden floor heavily as his stomach churned. He dry heaved, already sweating bullets. He ran to your bathroom and vomited profusely into the ceramic pot, his vision dizzy.
“That’s how I found out.” You said, leaning in the doorway. Sasuke flushed, turning on your sink and washed his mouth out, splashing his face with the cold water.
“But you haven’t taken a test yet?”
“No, but it seems pretty obvious to me that I am.”
“How can you be so sure?” He asked defensively, anxiety making him shudder.
“Don’t make such a big deal out of it. I can just go and get the procedure to get rid of it.”
“Get rid of it? Of an Uchiha baby?” Sasuke asked, heart racing.
“Calm down. If you wanted another Uchiha baby maybe you should’ve asked your wife to give you another one.” You snapped, walking away from him.
“You don’t get it, my clan is dead. It needs to be restored!”
“Sasuke for the love of everything, why don’t you fuck off? If your wife finds out about this she’ll kill me. Like… actually kill me. I don’t even know what she’ll do to you.”
Sasuke took a deep breath then let it out, holding your wrist and bringing you to your couch so you could both sit down.
“What happened between us was for the worst. It shouldn’t have happened and we both know that. But what if we just say that the baby isn’t mine? There’s no guarantee they’ll unlock their sharingan.”
“Sounds great! As a matter of fact, I’m confident I can raise your child as a single parent while you run off to your own little family and forget the two of us exist!” You sarcastically exclaimed, eyes burning into sasukes.
“Well what do you want?” He asked, standing up abruptly, raising his voice.
“No Sasuke, what the fuck do you want?!” You yelled, matching his volume and standing up with him.
“I want to pick you up and fuck you right on your kitchen table.” He growled, towering over you. Your eyes widened, the fists you didn’t even know you were clenching suddenly became less tense as you two stared deeply into each others eyes.
You narrowed your eyes at him, then quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and dove in for a kiss. You both were winded on impact, but met each other half way and soon enough tongues were being reintroduced to each other. He tasted like black coffee, and for some reason it turned you on. Knowing that as soon as he woke up and had his morning coffee he was on his way to see you. It was so fucked up, but you couldn’t deny the way it made you feel.
“You’re such a piece of shit…” You murmured against his hungry lips. He let out a soft “mmm” in agreement, unable to break the spell he was in.
His arm grabbed under your knee and pulled it up onto his hip. You wrapped your leg around him and as soon as your sexes met there was an audible sigh shared between the both of you.
“On my kitchen table you say?” You whispered, lips softly pressing against his.
“I’ll fuck you on your porch if you’d let me,” Sasuke moaned, your cunt gently humping against the growing erection in his pants. His hand left your knee and instead attacked your ass cheek with a rough smack. You let out a playful yelp, smiling at him before biting his lower lip, then licking it softly. You let it go and watched as it snapped back.
“I don’t doubt that for a second, Casanova.” You went down to kiss his neck, running your tongue along his adams apple while your hands went down to undo his black cape.
It fell to the ground with a plop, Sasuke had no interjections. Next, you unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and arm. You touched his warm skin, feeling how toned his chest was. You licked his clavicle and he gently sighed, patting your ass so you could wrap your legs around his hips, you quickly obeyed.
He lifted you up and moved you to your kitchen table, practically tearing your soft pajama tank top off and revealing your soft tits underneath. His mouth watered as his eyes locked onto your hardened nipple, he quickly moved to suck one into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it.
You let out a moan that sounded like it had been ripped from your throat, your hands tangling in his jet black locks. He stuck his hand down your pajama shorts and yanked them off along with your panties. You kicked them off when they had reached your ankles and thrusted your hips up against the hard member that was just behind his pants.
You mewled, begging him to release himself from his pants, your leg wrapping around him again and licked along his jaw.
“Fuck… you want it bad, don’t you?” He asked low in your ear. You nodded, biting your lower lip and looking up at him through your lashes. He sighed then roughly grabbed your jaw in his one hand, squeezing your cheeks until your mouth became a small pout.
“Say it. Say you want me to fuck you.” He ordered, slowly unbuttoning his pants as he held eye contact with your pathetic face.
“I want you to fuck me Sasuke! Please fuck me! I need you so bad, needed you ever since I got to have you yesterday.” You pleaded. He smirked, letting his pants and boxers fall to his ankles before stepping out of them. He retracted his hand from your face and began to stroke at his cock.
“Good girl.” He praised, ramming his cock into you roughly, bottoming out before you could warm up to his size.
You let out a loud moan, legs wrapping around him tightly, the heel of your foot digging into his ass cheek, pushing his hips further into you. You clenched down tightly on his shaft, almost choking on your own spit as you whimpered underneath him. Sasuke grunted, grinding into your walls as his public bone chafed against your clit. You cupped his cheeks and pulled him in for a deep kiss, desperate for more of him. He quickly kissed you back, his mouth opening and demanding your tongue inside his mouth again.
He retracted his cock before slamming it back inside of you, too impatient to let you adjust to his size. You didn’t care, the pleasure mixed the pain that came with burning stretch of his girthy member, parting you from the inside and brushing up against your g spot had you begging for more. The feeling of his cock jack hammering inside you had you moaning so loud and so often you couldn’t kiss him back, throwing your head back in ecstasy to moan freely in your kitchen.
Sasuke couldn’t let you tear away any kisses from him and as he pounded away inside of you, rearranging your wet cunt, he tried kissing you again- landing on the corner of your mouth before licking your cheek sloppily. You ran your nails up his back, leaving behind long, thin red line along his muscular back. He grunted loud and painfully, ducking his head down to harshly bite down on your shoulder. You whimpered, clenching down on him and holding his head at your neck.
“Fucking whore…” He grunted, kissing your clavicle.
“M-Me? Y-You’re the one w-who came to my house f-for sex…” you managed to get out. Sasuke slapped the side of your ass and you let out another yelp, clenching around him yet again and dripping down your thighs.
“Don’t talk back to me.” He snapped, grabbing your face harshly, squishing your cheeks again to keep you silent. You whimpered loudly as his pace became even more unapologetically rough, loud squelching filling the room along with a sigh from him with each snap of his hips.
A tear rolled down both your cheek and your leg, Sasukes manhandling become too much for you to bear.
“If you’re not pregnant already you will be by the time i’m done with you.” He huffed, his muscular chest heaving up and down with each heavy breath he took. Your eyes widened, pussy getting even wetter at his words. Sasuke smirked, eyes narrowing.
“You want that? You want me to fuck a baby into you? Ngh- as if I haven’t already…” Your eyes rolled back, nodding your head vigorously as your orgasm quickly approached.
“Say it then. Beg me to get you pregnant, beg me to let you carry my child.” He grabbed one of your bouncing tits and spat on your nipple, rolling it between his fingers.
“P-Please Sasuke… Please let me carry your child… please cum inside me again…” You cried, legs shaking around the man’s waist.
“So fucking wet…” Sasuke moaned, his pace becoming sloppier and more desperate. He kissed you roughly and soon enough your insides were twisting in the most euphoric way possible, your toes curling as your core tightened and legs shook violently against him.
“Mph- Saaa…Sas- Mmm- Sasuke…” You moaned between kisses, your wet pussy squirting on his chiseled abs, your tight walls clamping down on his girth and strangling him for his cum. He moaned against your own moaning lips, shooting his seed deep inside your silky walls, painting you white from the inside.
You two breathed against eachother, still heavy in climax, your mind racing as you cursed yourself for letting him cum inside you again. Maybe if you’re lucky you could still take the morning after pill??
Sasuke stood up, slowly pulling out of your soaked walls.
“haah… aaahhhh…” he lightly moaned, fully retracting as he watching his hot cum pour out of you, too tired to finger fuck it back inside you.
“W-We’re so fucked…” you sighed, legs still twitching. Sasuke let out a loud sigh, bending down to slip back into his pants, pulling them up.
“I know.” He ran his hand through his hair, looking at you as you lay helpless on the table. “Listen, we’ll think of something together, okay?”
“I really hate you,” you murmured, feeling his hand run up and down your thigh reassuringly.
“I know.”
AN: please under no circumstances think i am anti sakura or a sakura hate account 😭😭 this is just a fic and more importantly it is an AU. that is all, enjoy <3
Tag List: @just-your-sensei
#smut#naruto#naruto fic#naruto smut#sasuke uchiha#sasuke uchiha x you#sasuke x reader#sasuke uchiha smut#sasuke x you#sasuke x reader smut#sasuke smut#sasuke uchiha x reader#sasuke fic#naruto au
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ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴘᴇʀɪᴏᴅꜱ
Characters: e-1610!Miles Morales, e-42!Miles Morales, Hobie Brown, Gwen Stacy, Margo Kess
Type: Headcanons
Synopsis: How the Spider Gang helps you through your period.
Warnings: Light cursing, periods so descriptions of blood, cramping; these can be seen as platonic or romantic! Some nicknames are used that can also be used in a platonic or romantic sense I suppose?
A/N: Currently on my menstrual and this shit was kicking my ass for a good four hours. My partner was here to help me through it, and they sorta gave me this idea lol. Love you babe!
Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @lulu-network @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @briology @honeybleed @romiantic @queenofthespiderverse @onlyperc @starsoir @yasminisbroke @kdyance @sussybaka10 @daisydark @ykimobessed @asensitivecookie @famedrs-blog @movie-enhusiast22
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ᴇ-1610!ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴀʟᴇꜱ
Something tells me that he has a lot of girl cousins for some reason, and I think that also influences his knowledge about periods outside of Rio educating him about them. He’s not grossed out or anything by it, but is very well of the severity of the different hormone changes and mood swings, and doesn’t wanna get caught in the crossfire at all.
Amidst the stuff in his room he has a little container of period stuff - pads, tampons, painkillers, the basics - for whenever his female friends, family or girlfriend (if and when he acquires one) come over and aren’t prepared when their periods come on randomly.
He lowkey feels bad when the cramps are hitting you hard because he can only do so much on the outside, yknow? Like he can cuddle you and rub your tummy and try to lull you to sleep, but there isn’t much outside of that that he can do.
If you're cuddling, Miles opts to hold you against his chest while music is playing and he’s on his phone. He knows his dad does the same to his mom and thinks that the same method of action should work universally, and thanks to him, most of the time, with the girls and femme-adjacent people he’s around, it does.
ᴇ-42!ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴀʟᴇꜱ
Very similar to e-1610!Miles, e-42!Miles is also one to be knowledgeable about periods and the do’s and dont’s of them. However, I feel like he’s more skittish about the physicality of it all.
Like, he also has a little period kit in his room and it’s much easier to find since there’s not a lot going on and he makes sure to put it in a easy to spot place for whenever female friends, family or partners are around, and he’s comfortable being told that it’s that time of the month for that specific person, but the visual of the blood and the pain makes him squirmish. Which is ironic, given his chosen profession.
I think it's something that, while small and completely unavoidable and integral to the female anatomy, it hits close to home for him to see his mom, friends, family, or partner in pain when it comes to the cramping, the clotting, and the increased times in the bathroom. He feels guilty, like e-1610!Miles, but it’s tenfold now given his own history with being helpless with things outside of his control.
While he’s not good with words, he’ll show his care more physically. Keeps track of the cycle of the important women and people in his life, keeps his kit stocked, and if it pertains to his mom or his partner, wants to go the extra mile and buy chocolates, snacks, and act as a looming presence just in case they need anything (will def say sumn abt them being a ‘cootie monster’ as a joke to lighten the mood, but if you really wanna cuddle him, he won’t put up a fight).
ʜᴏʙɪᴇ ʙʀᴏᴡɴ
Being a friend or a partner of Hobie’s means you’re taken care of, period. Need sanitary items? He’s got a stash of em in his guitar case. Emotional? He’s leaning his shoulder to you already. Cravings? Already walking out the convenience store with his jacket stuffed with your choice of snacks. Just need to sleep? He can get you a quiet, comfy space just like that. He don’t play when it comes to this thing.
At one point you questioned if Hobie knew more about periods than you did, especially your own. The longer you’re around him, the more shocked you become with just how well he can navigate around you during this time of the month.
I definitely see Hobie as the type to want to provide physical comfort and support for your period. Back rubs, foot rubs, cuddles, cradling or rubbing or kneading your tummy to help combat the cramps and the bloating, everything. He even lets you sleep on top of him if it helps with everything. He’d definitely go to sleep with his hands cupping your tummy, thumb running along your skin to soothe your pains.
He’s good at keeping you distracted from the pain by introducing you to some music, putting on your favorite show, or just talking randomly about something that’ll engage your attention.
Hobie acts like your personal nutritionist for your period. Tells you the kind of tea to drink, what fruits to eat, what foods you should make to increase iron intake to make up for the loss of blood. And if you can’t cook, he’ll call one of his mates up to help him whip something up (or, knowing him, he’s got connections, he’ll ask someone to make sumn for you in exchange for something he can do).
ɢᴡᴇɴ ꜱᴛᴀᴄʏ
She hates her own period, so she can’t imagine how her friends and her partner feel. She’s the type to be confined to her room when she’s on her cycle pre-spider bite, however, I’d like to think that post-spider bite, she doesn’t get cramps anymore and the flow is rather light, which makes things great for being a superhero.
Therefore, Gwen takes her own experiences, coupling them with habits and things her dad does, and puts them to use for you.
Next to the dresser in her room is a little four-cube storage unit with bins that hold an assortment of things for you whenever you’re over her place. One bin has all your snacks in it that you generally like to eat, but she makes sure that it’s stocked up when your period comes around. Another has our comfy clothes you like to wear that keep you warm. Another has all the pads, tampons, and pain killers you’ll ever need, and lastly, the heating pad/warm water bottle to battle the cramps with.
Gwen will be kind of a worrywart, especially if she knows that your cramps get really bad sometimes. She’ll hover over you, wanting to help in any way she can, and even if you tell her to back off, she’ll still just kind of like, floats around just in case. It’s all out of love, though. And best believe she won't let you go if you finally invite her to cuddle again.
ᴍᴀʀɢᴏ ᴋᴇꜱꜱ
Homegirl definitely pops in on her folks using her avatar, and I feel like this all the same when those she loves are on her period. She herself suffers from heavy flows and monster cramps sometimes, so she knows a thing or two on how to manage them for herself, and for her friends and partner.
Nutrition plays a big part, so like Hobie, Margo will try to help you out with certain foods and drinks to help alleviate some of the pain and pressure from your period. She even forms a little challenge for the two of you to try out while you’re on your cycles together so that you can try things out and see if they work for you
Ironically, one of her favorite facts is that one can actually sync up with other people who they’ve bonded with over the internet, Since it’s likely majority of her friends are online and that she’d meet her partner through her virtual avatar, she’s not completely surprised when it happened, but more intrigued that it actually is factual
While she also knows that a healthy nutrition helps out big time, don't think for a second Margo won’t open up a tub of ice cream and a bag of chocolates with you and put on a movie to get through the first day of the period blues. Comfort over all is the philosophy that she follows, so if you’re not down for any of that healthy shit, she isn’t either. She’s more than glad to sleep in with you while eating fast food, so long as you’re there for when you two have to struggle to get back on routine lmao
If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!
#black reader#black tumblr#black marvel#black spiderman#spiderman#spiderman x reader#spiderman x black!reader#spiderman miles morales#miles morales spider man#spider gwen#ghost spider#e!42 miles morales#prowler!miles#hobie brown#hobie brown spider punk#margo kess#spider byte#miles morales x reader#miles morales x black!reader#earth 42 miles morales x reader#e42!miles morales x black!reader#gwen stacy x reader#gwen stacy x black reader#hobie brown x black!reader#hobie brown x reader#margo kess x reader#margo kess x black!reader
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dealer!jj blowing the smoke into your mouth bc you don’t wanna mess up your lipgloss by putting your lips on the blunt :(
♡₊˚ 🍧✧˚.🫧⋆₊⊹♡
“jj, i want to but i cant! i’m going to this party and if i smoke now my lipgloss is just gonna end up all over the joint.” you complain, tucking your feet under you on his couch as he rolls infront of you.
you’d shown up to his little shack on a friday night looking good as fuck, and whilst you usually spent the weekends showing up to his for weed and ending up face down ass up on his pull out— you were gonna be off at a random mutual friends house, getting crossfaded and having fun without him. he knows you weren’t technically his girlfriend, but he got that gross spike of jealousy in his chest, scratching at the bottom of his throat. he coughs quietly, trying to clear it.
“you always smoke with me, it’s literally tradition. you wanna break tradition? get seven years of bad luck because you’re messin’ with forces beyond your comprehension, man? nah, big mistake bucko.”
“what are you talking about?” you giggle, arm brushing his as you nudge him lightly, making him quietly tsk when you jog his handiwork. “one time won’t hurt.”
he finishes rolling and turns to you, going to hand it to you before pulling it away out of your reach. “ah, ah.” he warns, wiggling his fingers on the neatly rolled doobie. “how about, you let me shotgun this straight into your mouth. no contact, n’ your makeup stays perfect n’pretty.” he offers and you sigh, rolling your eyes making those pretty black lashes flutter up by your eyebrows.
“fine, only ‘cos i like smoking with you so much.” you grin kindly making him return the expression, patting his shorts down for a lighter.
“ain’t that sweet.” it comes out muffled as he holds the joint between his teeth, focusing on striking a flame before lighting it. he beckons you closer with his hands and you budge up excitedly, letting him take a few hits first. “whew, that’s that good shit.” he resists a cough before turning to you, eyes excited. “you ready, hot stuff?”
“you bet.” you giggle softly, watching him inhale before taking a gentle hand to your jaw and prying it open, closing in on you and blowing it into your mouth. you breathe it in, pulling back to hold it — his method surprisingly effective, before blowing it out.
“huh? i’m a genius.” he nods with a grin.
“another.” you rasp, starting to realise you enjoy the close proximity more than the actual task at hand. your tolerance was fairly low, being kind of new to smoking and you already started to feel the effects sink in after a few hits from jj’s mouth. you demand more from him, giggling with hazy eyes and his technique gets a little sloppier, very slightly grazing your bottom lip as he blows in the smoke. “careful.” you whisper once you pull away to exhale.
“my bad.” he responds, but from the look on his face he didn’t feel guilty at all. the next toke, he pulls you in with a smirk, dumps the smoke into your mouth before finally losing his composure, suddenly smashing his mouth to yours, instantly and surely smearing your gloss all over you.
you kiss back, a surprised whimper leaving you as you let him press his smokey warm tongue against yours, his arm extended to keep the joint from accidentally burning you. you remember why you had been shot gunning in the first place and push him back suddenly by the shoulders, a moderately mad pout wearing your features.
“sorry ‘bout that.”
“jj!” you scold and he beams, briefly turning to put the joint out, dropping it into the ashtray before turning back to you.
“dont make that face at me, mama. c’mere, lemme make it up to you.” it comes out in a low southern drawl, mouth coming to press against yours once more. you supposed you could be a little late to the party.
♡₊˚ 🍧✧˚.🫧⋆₊⊹♡
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yandere chan
summary: once again, basically sub yandere chan x dom reader hcs
a/n: there is many stalkerish topics and toxic behaviours in this (so read at your own risk), there is also mentions that could be read as a strap or the real thing-whichever you prefer
i do not condone this sort of behaviour, this is purely for amusement purposes and should not be done in real life nor' should be normalized
Did you notice Chan from the very beginning?
probably, yeah.
he made himself very apparent as the shy, cute, guy in a few of your classes. the boy next door typa vibes
you were friends with a bunch of his friends, he was friends with a bunch of your friends, so you knew of him though you never really hung out with him in any type of one-on-one kind of situation
was he completely gorgeous and so very adorable and look so entirely fuckable?
yeah. yeah he did.
but that was just it, you wanted to approach him, ask him out, bring him home at the end of the night
but he seemed too...innocent, too naive, too virgin-y
the golden boy
and you didn't want to corrupt that
you didn't realize how completely wrong you were until later on
completely unaware of the fact that he's had your entire schedule memorized from the get-go
that the reason anyone you've talked to never called you back and avoided you if you saw them again was because of Chan
he isn't the type to ask you out, babyboy's too shy and self-conscious for that,
instead he'll stalk and watch and hope that you'll get the clue soon enough
as he waits he'll probably steal your things, little trinkets, clothing like hoodies and shirts, perhaps some underwear if he's feeling extra confident
but he always feels really bad when he takes those
he has photos upon photos in his camera roll of you. enough to make a folder labelled just your name
most of them are not even remotely sexual,
some of you laughing with your friends-stolen from your friends's instagram account, from your instagram account
some of you smiling widely with your classmates
some that have been group pictures that his friends have sent to him
some of them he's taken himself, secretly snapping a few when you're not aware
he has so many, his own personal collection of just you and as gross as he feels when he does it-he'll look at them and get off
he can't touch himself, never does. he feels too dirty to do that, feels dirty and guilty about the entire situation altogether
but sees you and he just can't help himself
can't help but imagine how good you'd look standing over him, telling him what to do.
making him hump your leg
it so humiliating, so revealing and degrading as you look down at him unimpressed, the disappointment in your eyes making him whimper
you'd pet him too, pushing his hair back
"such a dirty dog; getting off on my leg like you're in heat, you poor thing~"
you'd tease him and make fun of him, bully him until he cums, melting against your leg out of breath
a mess all over your leg
you'd click your tongue at him, rolling your eyes before forcing his head down to lick up his mess
the fantasy gets so intense sometimes he feels like it's really happening
he's so hard and needy, body aching to be touched but too guilty to do it
so his go-to is humping his pillows or his bed. your clothes a victim with either his face buried into the fabric, smelling your perfume or your cologne or your natural scent
or he fucks into the clothing, obsessing over the thought of you catching him in the act
his face flushed, guilt stewing in his gut, eyes locked on yours. even if they're only through the screen of his phone
he begs and begs and begs to the phantom of you, his lust-addled brain conjuring up images, fake realities that aren't real to feed into his delusions that he could be yours.
it's only when you go on a date with someone that he decides he needed to do something
a guy from your class. decently handsome and looked kind of like Chan when you squinted slightly
it would all look the same, really, in the dark of your room as you made him moan under your hands.
the date goes well. but maybe that's because he has an aussie accent and when you look just beside his ear you can pretend it's someone else
you end the night a good note too, kissing him on the cheek and making him promise that you'll go out again sometime
Channie does not like that
he's been watching all night, hatred boiling in his gut, glaring hole into the guy's head, wishing that he'd drop down dead in the middle of the restaurant
he threatens him as soon as you're inside, telling him that he needs to leave you alone or else
spoiler alert: it doesn't work and you go out with him again
and again
Chan doesn't like that. not one bit.
you get upset when you're stood up by him for the first time after only three dates, checking your phone every few seconds as you sit in your apartment, waiting for him to pick you up
he never does
you call him and text him but he doesn't reply
awhile later you see that he blocked you on everything
he never does talk to you again and you wonder why
for the rest of the night you sulk, heading to a nearby bar, having a few drinks until someone taps you on the shoulder
turning around to find Chan smiling sheepishly
asking if you need some company for the night
you accept, eagerly ordering a few more so that he can catch up to you
which ends up with him getting extremely drunk
turns out he has a very low alcohol tolerance. it also turns out that he becomes extremely horny when he's drunk
extremely drunk, extremely horny and extremely happy
because it's the night Chan finally gets what he's been wanting for such a long time.
panting and clutching at your shoulders in the dark corner of the bar, sloppily making out with you
whimpering about how he's dreamed about this for years, muttering between kisses how he can't believe this is happening
opening his legs for you in such a public place-you briefly wonder if you were wrong about him being innocent all this time
until he tells you that he is a virgin, not that he hasn't had offers, it's just that he wanted to save it for you
he wanted you and only you to take his innocence,
to hell if it's in a dirty pub right next to the toilets, if there are eyes watching him-watching you, that you're as drunk as he is and still sad about being ghosted
it needs to be now
he cries with every thrust of you inside of him, his walls clenching making it harder for you
every little touch feels like it's overloading his senses, making his head feel fuzzy and the room feel spinny
and while it might be the alcohol that's causing it, it also might be the need he's had ever since the first time he saw you
the want and the desperation and the high he feels after everything he's done, it's finally happening
he whispers a lot of things to you that night
things that scare you, things that turn you on, things that make you angry at him and things that make you wanna ruin him even more
he confesses every one of his dirty secrets to you
he asks you then if you could still love him after all this, if you would still want him
and to his surprise, you don't get that angry, you do however, expect him to make up for his...wrongdoings
babyboy spends months at your beck and call, doing whatever you please whenever you please
trying to prove himself to you, that after all he's done he deserves to be with you
making him doing humiliating things like wearing a vibrator to your date
fiddling with the controls as he squirms in his seat, trying to hold it in long enough to order his meal albeit stuttering and tripping over his words the whole time
having him wear lingerie under his clothes when he goes out to hang with his friends, the lace hugging his body tight-a remanent of you even if you're not there
and even though you don't ask him to he shows up at your apartment every morning, with flowers or gifts or a compliment ready on his lips, offering to drive you wherever you need
sends you texts throughout the day, informing you of every little thing with an adorable kind of elation
you'd forgiven him long ago, if you'd ever even been mad at him to begin with,
it was just cute watching him stumble around trying to fulfill your every wish
though that still doesn't change when you finally make things official
he probably cries when you ask him to be your boyfriend, he just can't help it, he loves you so, so, so much
Even if his definition of love being a tad overbearing,
he definitely changes a bit when you're actually dating
a little bit more possessive, a little bit more clingy mixed in with a dash of paranoia whenever you’re around someone else that isn’t him
a lot of his shyness goes away when he's with you, ready to do whatever it takes to have your attention on him, willing to do anything that you tell him to
focusing on the former:
He really just can’t help but imagine how you’d look with them
You wouldn’t be happier with them, would you?
No, you love him, you love HIM
not them, not your coworker or best friend, not any one of his band mates or some random person you met at a social gathering
It’s Chan that you love
He’ll stay quiet sometimes, he knows that you need people in your life other than him. he knows that he can’t satisfy every one of your needs that all of these other people do
But that doesn’t make him stop wishing that he could
he tolerates most people (mostly because of your scoldings and punishments when he hasn't) but he still can't help the rage that comes when he sees someone actively trying to get into your pants-ESPECIALLY if they KNOW you're with Chan
of which he will 'encourage' them to leave you alone later on
though he'd really rather not have to do that. it gets kind of messy and you always get angry with him afterwards
so it's good that he's okay with most people,
it doesn’t stop his possessiveness or clinginess but at least he's not going tooooo overboard
If you’re shorter than him he’ll come up behind you and wrap you in a big bear hug, arms around your waist, face in your neck, peppering kisses all over your skin
If you’re taller than him he’ll have no problem pushing himself into your arms,
coming up in front of you and hugging you, taking your arms and throwing them other his shoulders
“Pay attention to meeee~”
face still in your neck, kisses still all over your skin,
No shits given for pda or how the person you were talking to beforehand is reacting at him cutting off the conversation,
and if you happen to giggle or laugh at his antics his heart will skip a beat, face growing warm with the sound, encouraged once again, to do it the next time this happens
There is very little that will dissuade him even if you don't like it
if you don’t like it he won’t pick up subtle cues or discomfort,
or more like he’ll PRETEND that he doesn’t get them
You’ll have to be straight up and tell him if you really want him to stop
He’ll give you the saddest, most hurt puppy dog eyes but will reluctantly listen to your wishes
he can never bring himself to do something that will hurt you or make you upset in any way
Afterwards when you get home is where that jealousy comes pouring out
jumping you the second you’re in the door,
the only time babyboy will ever purposely brat out, he’ll welcome any punishment you give as long as it’s you paying attention to him
Not anyone else
Would actually die if you ignored him
That’s out of the question for punishments,
he could never take you pleasuring yourself while he’s tied up across the room,
he would probably cry and not in the way that either of you like
he doesn’t care how hard you hit, how mean you are, how torturous your punishments are,
ignoring him is a no-no
And bringing someone else into any part of your relationship is too
Sexual or otherwise
The thought of someone else touching your skin, making you moan in the way he does, also makes him want to die.
End of story
If you try to bring it up at all he’d probably just ignore you, give you silent treatment until you apologize
And then make you PROMISE-PROMISE, PROMISE, PROMISE that it’ll never happen
That he’s the only one you’ll ever be with
Again, sexual or otherwise
but he wouldn't be against it if you were to say, fuck him in front of someone he was jealous of
having the other person watch as you praise him, giving him a slow handjob
his head going into overdrive as he makes pretty noises, all with the knowledge that this person would never get to be in his position, only a watcher to what Chan gets and they don't
He loves you so much and loves the way you make him feel
he gets quickly obsessed with that sense of freedom that you can give him
He’s stressed and overworked, locking himself in his studio for who knows how long,
starving himself for who knows how long
At the end of a long week he’s all pent up and tired, barely able to stand up on his own two feet and make complete sentences
Much less take control during sex
And more often than not when he comes home after said long week he’s in subspace the second he hears your voice,
quite literally from the second he steps inside the door he just feels himself slipping, overtaking his head with every step he takes, pushing himself deeper and deeper
He just wants to curl up in your arms and let you take care of him, force his mind somewhere else
jerk him off and call him puppy, anything you want, anything at all
He absolutely loves to be called puppy or babyboy, he really doesn’t know which one more because either will have the same effect
Mostly it’ll be paired with him calling you mommy or daddy
he's not big on master or mistress, ma'm or sir just because they don't have the same amount of comfort mommy or daddy has
It makes him feel safe and warm and cared for
Even if you are edging him for the sixth time tonight with no reprieve in sight
He’s a bit of a pillow princess but that’s okay because he looks so pretty just laying there and taking whatever you give him
He loves the control you take from him, forcing the decisions out of his hands, your rules becoming the only thing he cares about,
that floaty feeling in his head when you strip him of all of his responsibilities and anxieties
Your comforting hand and sweet praises,
the knowing that he can fall into it and leave the overwhelming reality of his world with you right there to take care of him
He no doubt uses his submission, subspace and sex as a whole really as coping mechanism for when everything becomes too much
Which is unfortunately more often than not, can make things overwhelming for both parties
It’s not very healthy but he thinks that it’s mostly him that’s being affected in a negative way
He doesn’t account for exactly how much of a toll it can be on you as well
He probably won’t notice either until you outright tell him, sit him down and give it pointblank
He feels horrible when and if you finally do though
But he is a bit selfish
So I doubt many serious changes will be made, if any at all
If things do change, don’t expect them to stay that way long, slowly enough that you might not even realize it everything will fall right back into the place it was before
he does give really good aftercare though, wrapping his arms around you, ignoring how tired he is to ask if you need anything
even if he's practically braindead, his legs still shaking he's trying to clean you up, trying to wave you off with weak hands
he gets really sleepy but doesn't like to actually sleep, instead he likes to lazily talk to you, words slurred, voice low and heavy
about anything, everything
most of the reason he doesn't want to sleep is because he never wants this moment to end
him in your arms, his head on your chest, your lips leaving soft kisses all over his forehead and hairline
telling him you love him
he swears his heart will burst out of his chest
this is all he's ever wanted
all he's ever dreamed of
to be with you
a/n: okay after this one i'm going to do lixie and then maybe hyunjin...? i'm not fully sure yet after felix's but yeah, hope you enjoyed!
--if you get tagged, or see this again that's because this is a repost because it got put under the community label before even a full day was up
taglist is open now here if you wanna be added: @hobihearteu, @shincode, @lemonhongjoong, @laylasbunbunny, @xcookiemonsteerr, @arlojulien-nightchild-of-hades, @hahagay, @lino-jagiyaa, @missrobyn81
#dom reader#stray kids smut#stray kids x reader#sub stray kids#stray kids#chan x reader#yandere chan#chan smut#bang chan#bang chan smut#bang chan x reader#sub bang chan#dom!reader#sub yandere
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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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i hope yoongi and oc share tents together <333 so that someone could not sleep that night +we’re not using yoongi for jungkook we made out fgs i hope you get me! jungkook should realize his mistakes and that he should treat oc AS A GODDESS 👏
sawry but you just gave me an idea and it isnt this one.
warnings: angst, this one is pretty long guys, reader gets bothered, TENSIONNNN
forgot to mention what jk looks like so he’s just wearing a sweatshirt n sweatpants, hair like wednesday!jk in seven mv🤪 link to taglist at the bottom of the post
taste of a poison paradise | jjk (m) #9
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WHAT SHOULD YOU DO?
ACCEPT his request of hearing him out 64,9%
DECLINE his request of hearing him out 35,1%
248 votes
you chose:
ACCEPT
↓
his big black eyes pleading with you as he awaits your response has your resolve crumbling by the second
*sigh*
let’s see what he has to say
you rub your forehead as you slowly turn back to the seating area and sit down in your previous seat
he takes a quick breath and sits down across from you, elbows on his thighs and he leans forwards
“i wanna start by saying i’m sorry,” he starts, his fingers anxiously fidgeting and picking at the loose flesh around his nails
you glance down at his hands before back up at him
it’s weird to see him being nervous
“i shouldn’t have said those things. i shouldn’t have ruined your night just because i wanted to tease you and joke around. i didn’t realize the impact of my words at the time.”
you squint your eyes at him, did you really give him a chance to speak and he’s saying the same thing he said when he came to apologize about saying he doesn’t like you?
“why did you say those things?” you ask, you need more of an explanation on how he can just say that to not only you but to his fucking senior
like where does he get the fucking nerve
he quietly sighs at your question and runs his hands through his wavy black locks, the palms of his hands rubbing into his eyes as he thinks about his answer
you lean back into the seat and throw your leg over the other, impatiently tapping your foot against the floor
“should i remind you of the time we don’t have?” you nod toward the train driver, reminding him of the fact you’re still on a train that will leave soon and you need to get off
like you know you said he thinks the world revolves around him but geez
“i don’t know, okay? i just,” he shakes his head and looks up at you. “i just really wa–”
“we ready?” you hear yoongi’s voice coming from your side. you turn to look at him and nod before rising to your feet
jungkook sighs, head still in his hands
probably should’ve picked a better time to talk it out, dumbass
you reach for your suitcase but both men suddenly lunge at you to help you
“oh,” you say surprised as they both stand facing each other, hands on the suitcase
“you’re good, i can take it from here,” yoongi politely says to jungkook as he starts tugging on your suitcase
“let me do it,” jungkook starts, “they’ll need you at the front to navigate because they’re not that good with direction.”
feeling like you’re in a kdrama rn
yoongi glances at you for a moment as if to ask for permission to go on ahead
???
he doesn’t need to ask you for permission when it comes to anything
there’s nothing serious going on between you and yoongi
you’re just saying that now because you’re still hoping for something to happen between you and jungkook and you’d feel guilty if yoongi took whatever you two have seriously
that is such BULLSHIT
jungkook is gross HES GROSS!!!
you don’t hope for anything!!!!
“he’s right, they’re really bad with direction,” you mumble. you watch as yoongi slowly drops his hand from your suitcase and nods before taking his own luggage
did jungkook think he could send yoongi off to have more time to speak to you?
you allowed him to and he gave the most basic bitch talk
you don’t even turn to jungkook when you file out of the train with yoongi, leaving jungkook behind with your luggage because he said he could handle it, did he not?
you gather with everyone in a circle, everyone’s checking if everyone’s here, checking luggage and everything
you don’t even look at jungkook as he drags both his luggage and yours to the circle
enjoy!
it’s a short walk to the actual camping area and when you’ve finally made it, you breathe out in relief
“let’s start with their tents,” seokjin tugs on joon’s arm, leading him to hyunjoo & isabella to help them out with their tent
it seems like hobi and yoongi are sharing a tent
seokjin and namjoon are sharing a tent
jimin and tae are sharing a tent
you luckily brought your own tent<333
you just love privacy.. but who doesn’t
and apparently so did he who shall not be named
but it doesn’t matter
everyone is busy with their own tents
you nudge yoongi’s hip with yours
“i got my own tent, you know.” your flirtatious words make him chuckle
“are you implying what i think you’re implying?” he responds before squatting and fixing up some loose ends on his tent
you huff. “and what do you think i’m implying?”
he chuckles under his breath and shakes his head at you. “your minx antics are distracting me.”
you laugh and hit his shoulder before deciding to go fix your own tent
get away from him you’re on DEMON time
you didn’t think about how sharing a tent with someone means they’d help you set it up
cause you’re alone
and now you’re
:)
a dumbass
trying to fix your tent
hm. it says if you turn this rod this way..
..and you take that bit and put it there…
…and if you do this then the zipper should be on that side..
for fucks sake.
it’s been 5 minutes.
you sigh as you drop it, rising to your feet and staring at the pathetic attempt of putting together a tent in front of you with your hands on your hips like a soccer dad
ugh
everyone is seemingly still busy but they look successful
and you look a fool
“you gonna let me help you?”
you turn your head to the side, eyes meeting with big black tapioca pearls accompanied by pretty lashes and thick brows
why
why
why
can he just!!!!
leave you alone
you stare at him for a moment. “shouldn’t you be fixing your own tent?”
he nods behind you and you turn to look in that direction, noticing how his tent is ready
the hell
everyone else is still fixing their tents and they’re duos
he did that
this quickly
on his own???
you’re pretty sure he never leaves the house
let alone gone camping before
so how????
“so?” he closes the distance a bit more, looking down at you from his height
you click your tongue and shrug your shoulders. “i wouldn’t want to appear as attention-seeking.”
he sighs at your pettiness, bringing his hand up to rub his eyes
“yeah well, you weren’t exactly the nicest to me up till that point, were you?”
huh
what
“what?”
“did you mean everything you said to me? about me? like how i’m not good for anything and that i’m nothing but a fuckboy?”
you blink at him
you did say those things in the heat of the moment
if he had said those words to you you would have gone batshit fucking crazy
not to mention how you were acting toward him even before the night at the club
well.. no, you didn’t mean those things
is this his way of implying he also didn’t mean the things he said to you?
he sighs at your lack of response and scratches the back of his head. “forget it, y/n. i just want to put up your tent. will you let me?”
he does look sincere
hmm
well
whatever
might as well make him work for it
you nod toward your tent and take a step back
he wastes no time and gets to work on your tent
this is gonna be a loooong night😕
it’s 20 minutes later and everyone is now around your tent, trying to fix it
it seems like something is wrong with your tent
great :)
just what you needed
“yeah, the tent is fucked. how much did you pay for this joke?” seokjin asks as he rises from his squat position
you think about it. “like… 80 bucks.”
he shakes his head. “you should go ask for your money back cause they ripped you off.”
of course it’s YOUR tent that’s messed up
you sigh and place one hand on your hip, the other scratching the back of your head
“well, what now?” jimin asks as he’s still trying to fix your tent, not wanting to give up
“you’re gonna have to join someone’s tent.” yoongi says to you as he walks around the flat tent toward you
taehyung beams, “oh, in ours!”
“i’d love for y/n to join us but the two of us barely fit in it.” jimin is the voice of reason and they all sigh
hoseok says, “but you’re alone in your tent, aren’t you?”
there’s
no fucking way
is he implying..
for FUCKS sake
you try to fight it but you can’t, your eyes automatically snap towards jungkook
but he’s already staring straight at you
“yeah, i do. she’s welcome, of course.” there’s that arrogance that you know and love–
know and hate.
you hate it!
you glance at tae and joon and as you suspected, they’re glancing at each other
are they really planning on protesting that?
you don’t like how they act like you can’t make your own decisions
you step forwards. “alright, then.”
your eyes shift to jungkook and he’s staring at you, his eyes narrow at you for a split second and his lips slightly twitch
you can’t tell what tf he’s thinking
but it doesn’t matter
it’s just to SLEEP. nothing else
seokjin pulls everyone out of the awkward silence that has settled around you. “great! now shall we get started on dinner? i’m starving.”
yoongi and seokjin are in charge of dinner right now
hyunjoo and isabella are helping them out
hoseok and namjoon are working on the campfire
jimin and tae are organizing the tents and arranging a seating area around the campfire
leaving you and jungkook to just.. stand around
you’re just standing by the people cooking and jungkook is testing out a seat made by jimin
“oh, y/n!” seokjin calls out to you
oh fun
“hm?” you spin on your heels to face him
“can you and jungkook go to the closest store and pick up a few bottles of water?” he asks as he stirs whatever he’s stirring. “take my car.”
he kind of asked it but it feels more like he’s telling you to do it
and what are you going to say to your senior? no?
you can’t even drive but you know jungkook can
fuck
“okay.”
seokjin hands you his car keys and you gather all your courage to walk up to jungkook right now
he looks up from his phone as you toss the carkeys in his lap
“let’s go, gamerboy. we’ve got duties.”
you don’t even pause as you walk straight past him, heading toward the car
ooof
the look on his face is one you won’t forget
he looked happy you were acknowledging him but quickly stopped smiling when he realized it was only because you were given a task
it doesn’t take long for jungkook to join you, unlocking the car and getting inside
you get into the passenger seat and look up the closest grocery store
which is
a 35 minute drive.
if only the car blew up rn…
you set your phone into the cupholder next to the gearshift so he can see the navigation on your phone
he buckles his seatbelt and so do you, and he slowly reverses out of the spot and starts driving
the car drive
is so
tense
and
quiet
you’re just staring out the window
the silence disappears when his fingers dance across the car radio and turn it on
he skips a few channels before realizing all of them are shitty and just settles on one
you continue to glare out the window
this silence is TOUGHHH
“do you need something from the store?” he asks quietly, right hand managing the gear shift and the other is turning the steering wheel
and he looks so fucking good
“no.”
he sighs at your short answer and turns the music a bit louder, maybe an attempt at drowning out his own thoughts
the roads are pretty empty so you’d gotten there in about 20 minutes
jungkook was definitely going way over the speedlimit but if he gets a fine, seokjin will definitely tape it against jungkook’s door
you unbuckle your seatbelt and get out, making jungkook copy you
he follows close behind you as you enter the store
once you’re inside, he skims past you and disappears into the store as he goes to look for water
hmm
you on the other hand let your eyes roam the snack section
ooo kinder
doritos
CHEETOS
you’re scanning the bags of chips and bars of candy until there’s a presence next to you
thinking it’s jungkook, you look up at him
but
it’s not jungkook
and for the first time, you really wish it was jungkook
you frown as there’s a guy, probably in his mid thirties
standing
next to you?
“aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” he says, eyes drinking you up
gross.
you squint at him as you put the bar of kinder back in it’s rightful place. “thank you.”
“you here alone?”
you keep browsing. he isn’t being overly creepy and isn’t invading your personal space so you don’t really feel threatened. just grossed out. “no.”
“what kind of crazy person would leave such a beautiful woman unattended?”
you internally roll your eyes at his cheesy line but mumble, “an actual crazy person.”
he takes the kinder bar you just put back and waves it at the cashier, who then nods at him
okay, maybe he’s a regular?
he then hands you the bar
you frown at it but take it nonetheless, free food is free food
“you wanna go ditch your responsibilities and join me for a night?”
just as you turn to look at the man, another presence is pressed up flat against your back
“how about you fuck off?” jungkook’s chest rumbles as he speaks, sending vibrations down your entire back
the man glances at jungkook and takes a step back
“hey man, shouldn’t leave a pretty girl by herself. i didn’t know she was your girl.”
bruh you literally… told him….. you weren’t alone?
well. ur not jungkook’s girl.
UR NOT.
jungkook continues, “well, now you do. get the fuck on, man.”
wha
did he just
okay
😂😂😂😂😂
he actually
does look intimidating rn
he’s towering over this other man, staring him down and clearly asserting his dominance
the guy glances at you before shaking his head and leaving the store
you slowly turn to him, his black eyes staring you down and a slight pinch in his brows
he looks really fucking annoyed
“thanks,” you mumble, referring to getting the guy off your back
he didn’t have to imply you two were in a relationship though but whatever
you watch as his eyes drop to the kinder bar in your hand
he doesn’t reply but instead takes the kinder bar out of your hand and tosses it aside before grabbing another kinder bar and a handful of other bars, chips and candy before heading to the counter
he pays for the sweets and the water
ouuuuu
you watch as he picks up two packs of 6 water bottles on his own, plus the bagged candy between his fingers
he’s
uhhh
kind of hot rn 😭😭😭
“let me help you–” you reach out but he just turns his body sideways so you can’t reach the water
“just open the door.”
you blink at him a few times before holding the door open and walking out with him
there’s a group of men just sitting by the side that weren’t there before
you open the trunk to help him load it in but he shakes his head, he just hands you the bag of sweets and says, “get in the car.”
he’s so
different?
you kinda
you kinda l*ke it
BE QUIET!!!!
you stare at him dumbfounded before actually complying and getting into the car
the ride back is even quieter than the ride there
but whatever right
it’s not like you want to talk to him
so you just
enjoy
the silence
upon your arrival, it’s already gotten rather dark out. you move to unbuckle your seatbelt but a hand on your bicep stops you
ahhh shit. here we go again
you glance at him over your shoulder and jungkook is staring straight ahead, out the windshield, hand on your arm like he doesn’t realize he stopped you
“sorry.” he takes his hand back. “listen.”
you fight the urge to roll your eyes. “why should i?”
“because you were right.”
hm?
everyone loves being told they were right
so
let’s actually hear him out
you settle back into your seat
he finally glances at you and you cross your arms as you wait for him to speak
“you’re right. i am childish.” he stares straight at you as he’s speaking and it’s SO intense
“so i’m coming to you as a man now and i’ll own up to everything.”
you tilt your head to the side in intrigue, a slight pinch in your brows which makes your pretty lashes kiss your brow bone
his eyes quickly scan your entire face before he continues, “the reason why i was pressing you and taunting you was because i wanted you to give in.”
his words from when he came to pick up his sneakers pop into your mind
‘i just wanna see how long you can go before eventually wrapping around my finger.’
you respond with, “yeah, you already made that clear.”
“no, listen to me,” he says as he places his hand on the compartment between the driver’s seat and the passenger’s seat, next to the cupholders
the intensity radiating off of him makes you want to listen
“i’m saying that my pride was too tough to swallow.”
uh
what???
why would he have to swallow his pride?
you frown. “i don’t get it.”
he sighs in frustration and closes his eyes for a moment. “i wanted you to give in, not to prove a point but because..” he pauses, “because i want you. i just didn’t want to admit it, not even to myself. because i never had to before.”
oh
oh
oh okay
👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍
wow
😀😀😀😀😀
how
do you even react
to that
he’s not done, though. “but you kept holding onto it like a dog with a bone and my patience was running out. i was not used to the feeling and i didn’t understand it at all. i lost my temper and said some shit i shouldn’t have, like a little kid. i’m sorry.”
now THATS how you apologize, ladies and gents!
he apologized like a normal person now
you blink at him a few times
he’s being sincere
you know he is
you want to accept his apology. you really do
but you’ve gotta get your lick back somehow
you quietly sigh. “come here.”
??
he frowns. “what?”
“come closer,” you chuckle, curling your index finger right next to your face so he knows where you’re requesting his presence
he wastes no time leaning into you but you stop him by his chin with your index finger right before his lips touch yours
you gently press your finger into his chin to push his face back from yours a few millimeters
you say, “apology accepted.”
he glances down at your lips before back at your eyes, his breath tickling the skin of your lips
damn
he is so damn close
“but that’s only because i love it when men–” you pause for a second.
“i love it when boys look and sound absolutely fucking pathetic.”
oh goodness
HELLO????
you see his adam’s apple bouncing up and down in your peripherals
you pucker up your lips just enough to graze his lips, basically pressing a soft peck to his lips
that peck only lasted half a second but….. his lips are … so soft
“that’s a thank you for this,” you say as you pull away and hold the bag of sweets up
you swing the door open without a second thought and get out, swinging the bag of snacks back and forth and leaving jungkook to deal with the reality of what just happened and the packs of water
jungkook: 2
you: 2
to be continued
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thou shall not fall
pairing(s): vampire!eddie munson x fem!reader
summary: Eddie has always liked you. That's never going to change, not even with a few biological upgrades.
words: 4.8k
tags: explicit (18+ MINORS DNI) smut, dark, noncon voyeurism, dubcon (specifically con turned dubcon), reader is under the vampire's spell, vampirism, predator/prey dynamic, perv!eddie, shades of gross!eddie, masturbation, use of sex toys, stalking, sadism, blood kink, biting, pain kink, choking, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, size kink, forced orgasms, animalistic behavior, primal sex, dacryphilia, possessive behavior, very much monsterfucking, not beta read, dead dove: do not eat
hi. i occasionally write dark fic. this is one of them. if you do not like any of the stuff listed above, please do not read this. your media consumption is your own responsibility.
He wasn’t always like this, you know.
Physically. And mentally, he supposes. Technically he was always a pervert, he was just better at keeping it at bay when he didn’t have the wings.
And you… you’ve always been perfect, in his eyes. He didn’t get why you were so sweet to him, when he had pretty much succeeded in turning most of the town against him. Try as he might to appear big and bad and scary, the ruse always collapsed when you were around. You were always so soft on him, maybe too soft. He didn’t want to lose that.
He’s big and bad and scary now. But he would never try to alienate you. He’s selfish that way.
Lounging on a branch high up in a tree, Eddie recalls a foggy memory, kind of like looking through a really dirty window into a past life, that he’d wanted to do this before. Certain things only come as instinct to him now. Desires sprung up from the very base of his soul, the bare bones of who he is at the core, the only thing connecting what he is now to who he was.
He remembers… sort of… that he thought about this a lot. Late at night, alone in his room, his back on that filthy mattress and his hand down his pants. The tree outside your house reaches up 50 feet and hangs over the water (because of course a girl like you would live in a house on the water. Picture-perfect in every way). He could never do it, though. There weren’t any branches low enough for him to climb onto, and your bedroom is on the second floor.
His wings fold in on themselves and merge back together with his skin, like two drops of oil in a cup of water fusing into one. He hadn’t liked them in the beginning, before his instinct had taken over, and there was still only panic. He’d stupidly tried to use that spear of his to cut them off, before Vecna had convinced him that was a bad idea.
Of course it was. They come in handy sometimes. Like now, for instance.
His eyesight is much keener now, too; in the dark, yes, but also just in general. A part of him wonders if, had this never happened to him, would he have needed to get glasses at some point? He can’t imagine how much everyone in town would have loved that- Eddie Munson, the four-eyed freak.
He can see everything. How tightly your nails dig into the meat of your thigh. How you haven’t shaved- that’s okay, he’s always liked hair, on both men and women. His eyes trace the movement of your hand, pumping the little toy in and out of your slick cunt. It doesn’t look big enough to be making you convulse the way it is, but you just can’t lay still. Your hips rock, your legs squirm on the sheets beneath you. Your chest- god, your chest- shines with sweat and leaps with your breath.
He knows, deep down under the hold that Vecna has over his mind, his humanity still remains. Because he feels a little bit guilty when he pulls his cock out of his pants.
There are many things about him now that are bigger than they were before- he’s a little bit taller, his hands and fingers a little larger to accommodate the claws lurking underneath. His canines are longer and just a fraction sharper, because at the end of the day he has to use them to stay alive. These things make sense, of course, considering his… condition. The size of his cock, though. He can’t place an evolutionary reason for that, unless it was just Vecna playing god.
Would it even fit, if he were to fuck you? He likes to think he’d give you what you need, and the thought of you writhing under him as your sweet little cunt stretches around him makes him imagine he’s more than capable. You would be so warm, so tight and wet. The sweetest and prettiest girl in the world, all his to use and break open. His cock twitches, pulsing strongly in his hand.
His eyes can glow now. He feels it when it happens, a bit of a burning behind the dark irises. It’s meant to alert him when he’s close to something his body desires. Hunger manifests from two different parts of life, you know, and he’s starved in both of them. Eddie blinks, and the yellow glow in his eyes reflects back at him from the glass of your window, reminding him of what he is. A predator close to his prey.
Your neck arches, head driving back into your pillows. Your hand clutches the pillow above your head, mouth open in a silent moan. It almost feels like he mirrors you, with one leg dangling from the branch and the other holding him in place, his hand making wet strokes over his cock in time with your own.
Watching you come apart is almost more of a treat than when he does it himself. To see your legs shaking, your hips chasing the release, hand stalling on the little fake cock because you tighten down so much around it. Baring his teeth, he grunts loudly and spills hot cum over his knuckles, unable to rip his sharp eyes away from you.
You lay, satiated, on your bed. Eddie knocks his skull back against the trunk of the tree, shakes his head to get rid of that infernal burning behind his eyes. He wipes his hand carelessly on the front of his shirt, and then swings backward off the branch to plunge into the cool water below.
He’s still thinking about it by the time he gets to the gate at the bottom of the lake.
Beautiful. You’re so beautiful.
He wants to tear you apart.
Here’s the thing; Eddie’s spent so many nights perched outside of your house that he can smell you, probably from anywhere in town. It’s more than perfume, it’s the natural smell of you. Something like cherry wine and petrichor, earthy and sweet all at once. It draws him like a moth to a flame, because the only real reason he comes to the surface world anymore is for you.
He stands just inside a line of trees, watching from the dark. A party. He never liked them, even when he was human. Less so now. He sees many faces he recognizes, a few he doesn’t, none of which he cares about except for yours.
There’s a boy talking to you, and Eddie flexes his jaw as anger rears its ugly head. He doesn’t know why, but he feels so possessive of you that he can hardly stand it. The boy smells like booze and you smell like fear, and Eddie is about two seconds from charging out of the trees and ripping the boy’s head off.
He doesn’t have to. You look for an out and back into the trees of your own accord, and the boy toddles off when he turns around and can’t find you again. Eddie can’t help the proud twist of his lips, his mind settling on relief. Good girl.
He doesn’t try to hide himself. You were always going to find him one way or another; if it wasn’t tonight, then it would be one of the nights that he watches you through your window. That’s what made it so fun, waiting for you to open your eyes and find him staring back at you. But you never did, and now you trip over a tree root and fall into his outstretched arms in the dark, such a romantic cliché.
“Careful.” His voice is deeper, or maybe it just feels that way in his mouth. You’re so fragile in his arms, so delicate. He doesn’t want to let you go.
When you stand on your own two feet and pull back to lock eyes with him, the air shifts dramatically. Your lips part, staring at him in shock. “Eddie?”
“Hey, you.” He tilts his head. Nobody’s said his name like that in a while- with kindness. “Long time, no see.”
Your eyes search his face. He looks the same- maybe taller, a little paler. He smells funky, but then again, he always did. The same long, fluffy dark hair, the same big, brown eyes that tormented you in high school. The same bright smile that captured your attention time and time again.
“What happened to you?” You start, no pleasantries, no beating around the bush. “People thought you died- I thought you died.”
“I did.”
A nervous chuckle leaves your lips, but you shuffle closer to him. You feel relieved. Happy. You don’t know how, or why, but you knew he wasn’t dead. It was more than intuition and a little less than a delusion. Eddie Munson can’t just fucking die. That’s not how it’s supposed to go for him. He would have graduated the same year as you, but he was held back, and you just… wanted to see him get out of there. You wanted that for him.
His hand comes up to cradle the curve of your elbow, your fingers finding the front of his worn-out shirt. He’s raided his old trailer multiple times in the last few months, each time finding a new shirt to replace whatever old, tattered thing the upside-down has all but destroyed. This week it says Motörhead. Next week, who knows.
Your hand presses into the fabric like you’re trying to make sure he’s real. He doesn’t feel real to himself anymore, but that’s neither here nor there. If you feel comfortable in his presence, maybe that’s good for him.
“All the murders- you didn’t really kill them, did you?” You ask him quietly, and you know the answer even as you say the words. “That wasn’t you, was it?”
“No.”
“That’s what I thought,” you admit, and he smiles. You’re far too sweet for him. He loves you, he really does. “I tried to tell them, but they wouldn’t believe me.”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Fuck them.”
“Yeah… fuck them.” Your fingers twist in the ends of his hair gently, a nervous habit that you developed in school and maintained after graduation, but began doing to anyone you got close enough to. You wish you could say it wasn’t the first time you’d felt his hair in your hands, but it is.
He breathes heavily through his nose, and he has to fight his instinct to let the claws come out. He lifts his hand, lets his fingers graze across your cheek and trace the line of your plush lower lip. You’re so close, and he’s so unbearably hungry.
“You’re pretty,” he says honestly, his eyes tracing the curves of your face and settling on the sight of your pulse, throbbing voraciously against the skin of your throat. He tears his eyes away before he can get lost in it.
You stare up into his face, and he thinks you might try to kiss him. He’s not sure if he wants you to, or wants to try to get as far away from you as possible before you can.
“Eddie,” you murmur, and your breath tickles invitingly across his cold skin. “I missed you.”
“I missed you.” He hums under his breath, pulling you closer until he feels your chest brush up against his. “I’m glad I found you, sweetheart.”
An enchanted moment, he thinks. He could spend eternity in it, with you pressed against him, without knowing what he’s become. But it doesn’t last- someone calls your name, and you nearly trip jumping back from him.
“C’mon, honey,” you say, shocking him still as you tug on his wrist. “They can’t find you here. If they do… I don’t want to think about what happens if they do.”
Fear. You smell like it, but not because of him. Because of everyone else. He wants to rip every last one of their heads off for making you feel like this.
“Where are we going?” he asks quietly, letting you tug him along by the wrist and not really caring about the answer. It doesn’t matter where you go, because wherever it is, he’s going to be the most dangerous thing there.
“Don’t worry,” you insist, and he doesn’t. He doesn’t really know how to anymore. “I know a place. No one will find us there.”
Good, he thinks. That’s very good.
Something about Eddie has changed. That much is impossibly clear.
For one, the old Eddie wouldn’t have done this, even though you desperately wanted him to. He wouldn’t have cornered you in an alcove by Lover’s Lake, out in the open but so far removed from anything that no one could hear your cries. He wouldn’t have bitten your lips raw and sucked on your tongue, manhandled you into his lap on the rough ground.
No, the old Eddie would never have touched you like this. Your back to his chest, straddling his thick thighs with your skirt hiked up to your waist. His tongue slick on your neck, one hand shoved up your shirt to cup your breast, the other stroking at your cunt over your panties.
He’d always been intense, of course. But the old Eddie was too strangely sweet and gentlemanly, too hesitant to push beyond the fragile friendship you had with one another. But then he disappears for a few months, and when he comes back his hands are so big that one of them can completely circle your throat, trapping you back against him when he hooks your panties to the side and slides his fingers through your soaked folds. Two thick digits plunging deep into you, slick with your arousal, and you’re having trouble breathing as it is.
“You like this?” he coos against your ear, and you have trouble reconciling that dark, velvety voice with the sweet guy who constantly talked about Tolkien with you in English class. Who had traded a cigarette for your bag of goldfish crackers once, and then immediately turned around and gave it to his younger friend.
You whimper a meek reply, hips chasing his touch. You would kill to know where he’s been, what all had happened to him in order to change him this much.
Because he’s not exactly sweet anymore, is he? He rips his fingers from you and he growls a low, “Turn around,” and damn if you don’t just follow his order immediately. Like it isn’t even you controlling your body anymore, you turn yourself towards him and he’s already shoving you back onto the cold earth, hands tearing your underwear down your legs.
His teeth are so much sharper than they ought to be, you think, as he sinks them into the meat of your thigh. You hiss a soft, “Ow, fuck, Eddie,” because you could swear he just pierced the skin, but he simply hums and soothes the bite with his tongue, and the pain fades immediately. You feel delirious under his attentions, as he sucks gently at his little bite and draws back with a wet pop.
“Couldn’t help it. You just taste so damn sweet,” Eddie sighs, kissing his way further up toward your cunt. And slowly, he takes to your sticky folds with his open mouth, just the same as he had to the bite mark.
Eddie’s always liked it a little dirty, a little sloppy. That’s why he lets it get wet, lets his tongue play through your folds until you’re not sure whether it’s his spit or your slick that’s dripping from you, down his chin and onto the ground- possibly both, but you don’t care.
That’s just it- you’re beyond the point of caring about anything, as long as he just keeps going. His lips are wrapped around your clit, and you don’t care. His tongue prods into your entrance, and you don’t care. His hair is a little grimy when you weave your fingers through it, and you don’t care. The world could end in an hour. You don’t care.
Amazing how quickly even just the smell of you will turn him into a complete animal. How at the first taste of your blood, he knew he was a goner. Your pussy is almost as sweet as your blood- not quite, but almost, and he still can’t get enough of it. Letting his hands wander over your exposed skin, the claws beneath his nails wanting to jump out every time you twitch. You have no idea how hard he’s holding on, how careful he has to be with you.
“Eddie.” You moan his name so softly, he can almost remember being that slightly shy kid you’d made friends with in English class.
He feels it, burning in the back of his eyes. The faint glow in his irises, golden like the setting sun, emanating from the inside out. He has you where he wants you- he has you.
And then, you look.
You wish you could say that some kind of fight or flight instinct kicks in, when he lifts his head and you can see the yellow glow in his eyes, the glint on his impossibly long canines. That something in your mind tells you to ‘run,’ but it doesn’t. You just lay still, frozen in shock. He looms over you, and he’s so big and the bottom half of his face shines with your slick, and it just makes sense. It makes perfect fucking sense. It explains everything.
“You have changed,” you murmur shakily. You lift your hand and gently poke at his canine, letting it scrape sharply against your skin. “Something did happen to you, huh?”
He doesn’t answer your question. He doesn’t need to. “Do I scare you?”
“Yes.” You couldn’t lie to him anyways, he can hear your heart pounding in your chest.
“You like it.”
A statement, as obvious as the night surrounding you. You like it. Your cunt seeps for him, still sensitive and swollen because you didn’t get to come, and it would be fucking devastating for you if either one of you decided to take off. You like the way his eyes glow- he always had beautiful eyes, this just makes them more striking. You like the way his fangs make his smile appear even bigger when he does. You like how big and dangerous he is now. He always tried to appear that way, and now he is.
“What… are you gonna do?”
He hears the little tremor in your voice, and it touches something beyond the primal instinct clouding his mind. It seems you’re the only thing that can reach his humanity anymore.
“Oh, I’m not going to hurt you, sweetheart,” he promises with a small smile. “I’m just going to eat you.”
To your credit, you do struggle when he sinks his teeth in. Maybe you do have something of a survival instinct in there, buried down deep just like his humanity is. The squeal you make at the sting of the bite sends a wave of sadistic arousal through him. Your nails scrape down his arms as he pulls you into them, hoisting you up into his lap so that he can more comfortably nuzzle his mouth against your throat. He feels your pulse on his lips, your heart hammering so hard that it could leap out of your chest.
It rockets through you in the blink of an eye. You’re scared. You’re so very, very scared, and his teeth are inside you, and his arms are closing in around you and you can’t fight him-
But as soon as he retracts his teeth and there’s nothing there but his tongue to lave and sooth the wound on your skin, you relax into his arms. A soft moan escapes you, and Eddie feels that gentle burn behind his eyes grow that much stronger.
Eddie has never been a Christian, and he certainly knows nothing about heaven, but he’s sure that it must be something like the taste of your blood on his tongue. He doesn’t believe in a God- and don’t get started on Vecna, because that motherfucker will never be a god as far as Eddie’s concerned- but if there is one that exists, then they must have created you for him. Why else would your hand, so small and weak, fist in his dirty hair and instead of pulling him away from you, push him further into your throat?
Your hips press downward, your slick cunt grinding against the front of his pants for some kind of relief. Lust burns as bright as a bonfire in your belly, making you lose all sense of what’s right and wrong anymore. You can’t quite intellectualize how or why you’re so turned on by him- you recognize that he’s drinking your blood, but you can’t help it.
Sharp nails scratch down your back as he cradles you close to him, and he smells so… good. It’s weird, because he smells like lake water and sweat, earth and blood, but it’s so attractive to you. You must be losing your mind.
He grunts, one of his hands wiggling in between your bodies to undo his belt. There’s a shift, a short moment when he pulls his cock out of his pants. You can’t see it, but you can feel the burning head as it slides between your slick folds, and you swear you could come just from him rubbing himself between your lips. The tip catching and skimming over your clit, making a weak little whimper slip from your mouth.
And then he tugs you down onto his cock, burying himself in one smooth stroke, and the guttural moan you make echoes off the walls of the alcove you’re hidden in. “There we go, sweetheart.”
“Fuck, Eddie-” Open-mouthed pants kiss the cool air, and you squirm just a bit more on his cock, hissing at the pain and the incomparable stretch. He’s so fucking big- jesus, he’s massive. You’re weak and complacent at the stroke of his tongue on your neck, but he picks you up by the hips to move you on his cock, and the burn is almost too much.
“Sh-sh-sh-shh.” He drags his wet lips along your jawline, and you can smell the blood, can hear his chuckle despite the sounds you’re making. “This is what you wanted, right? Isn’t it fun when you can have what you want?”
You figure it’s a rhetorical question. You can’t quite answer; too overwhelmed by everything that’s happening, every breath that falls from your mouth punctuated by a soft and helpless moan.
The pain fades to pleasure quicker than it should- Eddie can’t help but feel that it’s something he’s doing to you, something about his new form that’s making your defenses shut down and in turn making you relax into him. He can’t sense fear in you anymore, only acceptance. He has a hard time thinking that it’s a bad thing.
He doesn’t want you to be afraid. He’s not going to hurt you, not unless you want him to. He promised.
Your pretty moans are all but scrambling his mind, so lost in the taste of you that he can just barely understand you whimpering, “Eddie- need you- need you.”
He picks you up like it’s nothing- it is nothing, to him. You’re so delicate, shaking like a leaf in his arms, and he groans as his cock drags through your walls, tight and pulsing around him. He knew you’d be so wet, drowning him, soaking him until there’s no resistance but the stretch your body makes around him.
“Feel that? Feels good, doesn’t it?” he breathes against your throat. “You were made for me, baby, you take me so well.”
All you can do is cry. Tears prick your eyes, nails digging into his scalp and scratching at his jacket, but there’s nothing to distract from the way his cock hits the perfect spot in you every time, making you throw out hollow sobs into the night air.
A moan chokes off in the back of your throat as he tilts you back, laying you onto the cold ground to gain some leverage to work with. His hips pull back and slam forward, the hair on his pelvis grinding up against your clit and coming back drenched with your arousal.
Eyes clenched shut, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the feeling of him hitting the end of you like that. The way his cock drags against a spot inside you just desperate for its touch. Feverish under your skin, scratching along the earth beneath you as his hand closes on your throat, tilts your head to the side so that he can examine the damage he’s done.
“You’re so pretty like this,” he murmurs low in his throat. His voice is strained, his mind nearly void of anything beyond base desire. “My mark on you- fuck, you’re mine now, aren’t you? Mine.”
He says it so possessively, like a child with his favorite toy. Mine. It stirs something deep in you that you barely knew was there.
“Yours, Eddie,” you pant, your head tilting back as his thrusts continue to shake you to your core. “M’yours.”
“Yeah,” he breathes, his voice softening into a quiet purr. “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you? I can feel it, baby. So tight on my cock-”
You gasp weakly, nails digging into the skin of his forearm. You don’t think he even really feels the pain, because he doesn’t flinch away from you. His hand remains solidly pressed to your chest, still appraising your face and the mark on your neck. You instinctively turn your face to the side, your orgasm washing over you like he was able to command it into your body with his words alone.
“There’s a good girl.” He bends down and catches your lower lip with his teeth, letting his canines scrape the skin but never digging in quite enough to break it. He groans against your mouth, sounding half-tortured. “Feels better than I imagined, sweetheart. Fuck, I’m close- M’gonna fill you up, baby. You’re gonna take all of my cum, aren’t you?”
“Please- oh shit-” You whine loudly as Eddie hikes your leg up to your chest and slams his hips into yours. Your limbs have all but gone numb, barely able to process anything but the pleasure coursing through you. Breathing is just about the hardest thing you can do right now, but you manage to draw one in long enough to spit out, “Please, Eddie, give it to me- I want it.”
Eddie’s touch is soft as it strokes over your face, cupping your cheek. It’s almost tender in the midst of what, you think with absolute certainty, is the craziest fuck of your life. He must care about you, somewhere in there, under whatever the fuck has happened to him. Whatever turned him into this.
You think that you should feel shame. You should feel something like fear, or guilt, or something of the sort, but it doesn’t come. Pleasure only blooms like white hot hellfire in your limbs and in your gut, and you let him keep the score with his tongue in your mouth, tasting of your blood.
He sounds like an angel when he slots his hips up against yours and fills you like he promised. His groans rumble onto your lips, and as you swallow them you think that you could be in love with him.
You lay with his weight on top of you, hips rocking occasionally against his in the aftermath, milking him for all he’s worth. He doesn’t move to make you stop, and so you enjoy the little bits of friction that come with his pubic bone rubbing against your swollen clit. His cum leaking from you, making a mess on your skin and allowing the movement to be that much smoother each time you squirm against him.
“Eddie,” you say, eventually, with your voice hoarse and grating in your throat.
He picks his head up to look at you, and that golden shine from his eyes is gone, for now. But he looks far more alert than you are, and so you realize that he’s just… enjoying this. Letting you roll your hips against his, unable to stop, feeling you pulse on his cock from the stimulation.
“Yes?”
“What…” you lick your lips, already dry and still tasting of the metallic blood that his smeared across them. “What are you?”
He blinks, and his mouth slowly curves into a smirk. It’s one that you’ve seen time and time again, and still, this time it holds a new meaning to you.
“You know.”
You do know. Something in the back of your brain goes, “by the way, vampires exist,” but it leaves as quickly as it surfaces. Eddie pulls your leg back up to its spot against your chest, your knee hooking over his broad shoulder. Staring into your eyes, he grins.
He draws his hips back. And he rolls in like the tide.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfiction#dark!eddie munson#vampire!eddie munson#perv!eddie munson#dark!eddie munson x reader#vampire!eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things 4#roses*
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you can post this if you want or not but i want to let you know that i'm a trans guy too and your comics about herbert-pre!transition-AU is making me super dysphoric. i like ur art and i like your stuff (its great) but it almost feels like youre making fun of dysphoria and trying to make it funny and cute and it almost feels like ur telling jokes about deadnames or looks. its not funny or cute it is really hurtful and makes me feel gross everytime... not telling u what to do but maybe think abt it?
i'm sorry you feel this way, truly.
but writing/drawing this AU is cathartic for me, personally, as a trans guy. i'm depicting a lived experience that i and many others can relate to, not out of mockery but with love. this AU is honestly a lot more personal than most of my other Re-Animator art, so it kind of hurts to be told that my stuff is only good when it's less personal/more broadly appealing to everybody.
i don't want you to feel bad, but at the same time i am not going to feel bad or guilty for making art drawn from from my own trans experience. i have all my HS AU art in one tag specifically for folks to block, for a reason.
#ask#anonymous#i know you said you arent telling me what to do but. like.#it really does hurt that somebody would assume i was portraying a life experience that is very close to my own heart to be belittling.#i get that we are all going thru it but im a trans artist too. i do not just make content i have experiences and feelings too.#and i make art reflecting that.#idk. bummer. disabling anon now.
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it's the first kiss, it's flawless, it's really something. it's fearless.
ok i am feeling fearless tonight, and thea byler first kisses are The Byler First Kisses so i am politely requesting a first kiss in the rain!
this was a VILE prompt to send in that i am so emotional about fearless (taylor's version) and byler and byler first kisses. i hate you so much. i hope you love it.
“Probably shouldn’t have taken our bikes, huh?”
Will looks over at Mike, blinking rainwater out of his eyes – they’re standing under the awning of the entrance to the only bank in town, closed for the afternoon and completely free of any other miserable, rain-drenched suckers. The bikes in question are lying on their sides on the pavement, abandoned in their haste to get under cover. And Mike is completely soaked, dark hair plastered to his forehead and shirt clinging to hm probably just as uncomfortably as Will’s is sticking to his own skin, and he’s got this sheepish, guilty grin on his face. It had been his idea to take their bikes, hadn’t it? Something about we only have a few weeks left of this weather, Will and let’s enjoy the summer sun, Will and it’s only a twenty percent chance of rain, Will, we’ll be fine.
Famous last words.
“Well, it was only a twenty percent chance of rain,” Will points out, doing a bad job of suppressing a smile of his own. This one, though, is less in the realm of guilty, and more in the realm of, I told you so, idiot. "How could we have known?"
Mike shoves at him, a playful brush of wet skin on wet skin, and Will laughs. “Shut up,” Mike says, but he’s still smiling. He reaches a hand up, tangling his fingers in his hair as he brushes it up and off of his forehead, and Will immediately looks away, biting his lip – he shouldn’t think Mike looks cool right now. In actuality, Mike looks like a drowned rat; in actuality, Mike is the reason that they’re stranded here, soaked from the rain; in actuality, none of that makes Will want to kiss him any less.
“How long do you think it’ll last?” Mike is asking now, somehow heard over the sound of the rain hitting the pavement and the sound of all the blood in Will’s body rushing all at once to his ears. He crosses his arms over his chest, resolutely staring at the empty office building across the street, at the trees in boxed planters swaying in the wind – anywhere but Mike, willing his heart rate to go back to normal.
“Check your phone,” Will suggests, doing a very good job of keeping his voice even and steady. “Hot tip: if there’s a little rain cloud under the number, that means it’s still going to rain.”
He doesn’t have to look to know that Mike is rolling his eyes. “Really living up to your name, o’ Will the Wise,” he says, and then presumably turns his attention to digging his phone out of the wet, gross pocket of his jeans – or at least, that’s what Will guesses he’s doing. He still won’t look at him, so he wouldn’t really know, but there’s a lapse in conversation that Will can only attribute to looking at the weather app. “It’s only going to last for another half hour,” Mike declares, affirming Will’s assumptions.
Will lets out a scoff. “Let me see,” he says, more aggressive than he intends to be, but he doesn’t trust Mike’s assessment of the weather at the moment, thank you very much. Good thing Mike has no interest in meteorology, because Will would have way too much fun bursting that bubble.
In a feat that has taken years of a mixture of natural talent and diligent practice, Will manages to avoid looking at Mike directly, instead just looking at the raindrop-smeared screen of his phone. Fortunately for Will, Mike is actually right – the app does show that the rain is going to clear in thirty minutes, the forecast free of tiny thunderclouds for the rest of the evening. Unfortunately for Will, his herculean efforts of not looking at Mike are thwarted completely by standing so close to Mike that he can feel the body heat radiating off of him, and he literally jumps back, cheeks burning.
Smooth. He still won’t look at Mike, but he can tell Mike is looking at him, now. Great.
“You’re jumpy,” Mike comments, sounding amused.
“I’m not jumpy,” Will barks back, rocking back and forth on his heels, which is almost jumping. He plants his feet to the ground instantly, standing as still as possible.
“You are,” Mike says, taking a step closer to Will, who immediately steps away from him in – well, in a jumpy way. Damn it. “You’re like a little rabbit.”
Will flushes something violent, his cheeks burning with it, and this is not what he had in mind when he was urging his respiratory system to act normally around Mike Wheeler, please, for once in our pathetic life.
“I am not,” he says haughtily, still refusing to look at him.
“You are,” Mike insists, reaching out to grab at Will by the waist. Will yelps and hops away from him, out from under the cover of the awning and nearly tripping over a nearby parking block. Mike laughs at him. “See?” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket and taking another step towards Will, who hops backwards out of his reach, involuntarily proving Mike’s point. “Bunny rabbit behavior.”
“Because you’re trying to grab me,” Will seethes, no real heat to it, taking several steps back as Mike steps out into the rain after him. “Go away.”
Mike only smiles wider, lunging for Will again with his arms stretched out. His fingers brush the wet fabric of Will’s soaked t-shirt, but on account of it being wet and Will once again jumping away from him, he doesn’t quite get a hold on him.
“Bunny behavior,” Mike repeats, a gleeful sing-song, and Will flips him off.
“I hate you,” Will spits out, dodging another grab attempt.
“You don’t,” Mike says.
“I do,” Will insists, letting out another yelp as Mike comes after him again. He does more than jump away this time, trying to beat the bunny allegations, and instead turns to run towards the other side of the parking lot.
Mike makes a noise of protest, and Will glances over his shoulder to see Mike start after him. “Come back!” he calls out, following Will’s path through the parking lot, “I’m not agile enough for this!”
“Not my fault!” Will yells back, though he’s not having much luck, either, the oil from the asphalt of the parking lot working together with the rain to make him slip and slide all over the place. Mike is working against the same conditions, but even with Will’s head start, Mike and his stupid long legs make the distance between them a lot closer than Will would like. “Oh my God,” he screams, jumping away from yet another close call, “get away from me, you freak!”
“You’re just mad that I caught up to you,” Mike laughs, and then immediately slips in a puddle. It would be funny, except it sends him sliding forward, and his momentum is too quick for Will to react on time – which lets Mike crash right into him, grabbing at the clinging fabric of Will’s t-shirt for dear life.
“Yes,” Will grits out, trying to squirm out of his grip, but Mike’s hold is firm, “I’m very, very mad. Let go.”
“Nah,” Mike says, pulling Will closer and spinning them around, their sneakers sloshing with every step. Will grips onto Mike’s biceps, fingernails digging in for some sort of purchase on his wet skin, desperately trying not to topple over backwards and take Mike with him. “I like you right here.”
They’re close – so, so close – but Will won’t look up, fixing his gaze on Mike’s bony shoulder and the way his shirt clings to it, almost transparent. The rain beats down on them, flattening Will’s hair against his forehead and sending a cascade of water dripping into his eyes, but he doesn’t care. It beats the alternative.
“You’re an idiot,” he accuses Mike’s shoulder, furiously blinking against the onslaught of rainwater.
“You like me, anyway,” Mike answers easily, fondly, hopefully. “You like me so much.”
Despite himself, this makes Will tip his head back to look up at Mike, rain be damned, because that’s not the way a friend says those words. And that’s certainly not the way a friend looks at a friend, either.
Will blinks, and the entire day restructures itself in Will’s head: Mike, calling him at noon, insisting he find his bike, because he’d be over in twenty; Mike, almost crashing into a fire hydrant, because he’d been too busy looking at Will to pay attention to where he was going; Mike, paying for his meal at the burger joint they’d gone to for lunch, a normal occurrence; Mike, constantly tapping his foot against Will’s beneath the table, brushing Will’s ankle with his toe, something that’s never happened before.
And then there was Mike, insisting they go grab ice cream and share it, so that they could get the most bang for their buck; and there was Mike, offering his same spoon to Will, waving off Will’s halfhearted concern about germs; and there was Mike, lying back in the grass with him, his body angled towards Will as he let Will ramble about the portfolio he’s preparing for his college admissions; and there was Mike, who offered to bike back with Will all the way to his house, even though it was in the wrong direction from Mike’s own.
This entire day has been a date. He payed for Will’s food, and played footsie with him, and shared his ice cream, and happily listened to Will rant, and chased him in the rain, and, and – Mike took Will on a date, and Will didn’t even notice until right now.
Maybe they’re both idiots.
“I do,” Will says now, squinting up at Mike through the rain. He lifts one of his hands from Mike’s bicep to Mike’s hair, ignoring the way that it shakes in favor of pushing Mike’s hair back off of his forehead again. He lets his fingers card through the wet strands, traveling from Mike’s hairline all the way around his scalp so that his hand is resting at the nape of Mike’s neck, its tremor slight, but still there. His voice is steady, though. Braver than he feels. “I do like you so much.”
Mike’s hold on him tightens, pulling Will forward so that their torsos are pressed up against each other, and any and all nerves get washed away with the rain. Holding tight onto that courage and running with it, he uses his grip as leverage to pull Mike’s face down to his, stands on his tiptoes, and brings Mike’s mouth to his.
The first thing Will registers is that wet, the rainwater catching between them, but as Mike’s mouth moves against his, gently pressing for something beyond the static stack of lips on top of lips, the kiss bursts with new sensation. Mike’s mouth is warm, stark but welcome against the chill of the rain, and the strawberry flavor from his ice cream from earlier makes itself known in the next brush of their lips, bringing a sweetness Will hadn’t expected. It’s soft, slick, sweet, and somehow – shy yet fearless, all at once.
Will lowers himself back to the ground, breaking the contact but bringing Mike down with him. He holds his face close and just breathes him in, all sweet strawberry breath and the fresh muskiness of petrichor and somewhere beneath them both, that same generic bath soap Mike’s mom has been buying for him as long as Will has known him. It’s a mix of old and new and Mike, Mike, Mike, and best of all, it’s his. It’s his.
“For the record,” Mike says, his breath fanning out across Will’s face, and through the haze, Will wonders why he was trynig to get away from Mike earlier when this is so much better, “I like you so much, too.”
Will smiles, big and wide and bright enough to banish the storm clouds, but he doesn’t want them to leave. He’s not ready to give this moment up, not yet.
“Good,” he says, bringing his other arm up to wrap around Mike’s neck. Mike’s thumbs brush at his hips through the soaked fabric of his t-shirt, and Will shudders, the feeling soaking him to the bone in a way the rain could never hope to manage. “Kiss me about it.”
And as certain as the rain falling down all around them – Mike does, and does, and does.
#byler#byler fic#byler fanfic#byler fanfiction#byler ficlet#wiseatom minis#andi i HATEEEE U FOR THIS I LTIKERALLY . SCREAMING AND GNAWING UR ARM OFF AND SHAKING MY HEAD LIKE UR A CHEW TOY GRAHARHGRAH#U FREAK U FREAKZOIIIIDDD I LITEALLRLLY JHAT E YOU GOD . GOD!!!!!!!!!!!#me beating will byers over the head w the bunny allegations#u cannot escape them
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@hellsingrevamped : Greetings and Salutations I enjoy reading your works, wanted to ask if you could write about the all re8 women reacting to their S/O hidding somewhere to smoke a cigarette when the S/O is not really a smoker somthing for any gender. (This is my first ask, keep up the amazing work i look forward to reading your stuff when you make it.)
Thanks, friend! This is a really good idea. I used to smoke every now and then, but I have asthma so I have no business smoking in the first place lol. Let’s get into it!
Alcina:
Alcina is a smoker. That’s just canonical. She does it as a way to calm herself down.
You always tell her that she should cut back some for her health, but she just chuckles and gestures to her body. “I think it’s a little late for that, draga.”
You do smoke sometimes, but you try to keep that hidden from Alcina and the girls. You also do it as a stress-reliever, but only when you are incredibly anxious.
Alcina finds you smoking one day and scolds you. (Double standard much?) “Draga! Smoking is bad for you!”
When Alcina sees how worried and upset you are she clicks her tongue and pulls you into a hug as she rubs her fingers through your hair.
Alcina calms you more than a cigarette ever could.
Donna:
You feel bad about keeping the fact that you smoke a secret from Donna.
You just know it’s a bad habit and don’t want her to think any less of you.
One day, Donna goes to get you for lunch and finds you sitting on the rooftop balcony smoking.
Donna’s face turns red immediately… She thinks you look really hot.
She calls to you softly and you startle, flinging the cigarette out of your hand in the process.
Donna giggles at your guilty face before turning around and telling you lunch is ready. She doesn’t say another word about it until you question her later. She doesn’t want you to feel bad. She loves you either way.
Miranda:
Okay, Miranda despises smoking. She’s a biologist and she knows how bad it is for humans.
You try to keep your smoking a secret from her, but she smells it on your clothes.
She warns you of the health effects of it and crosses her arms disapprovingly when you explain that you only do it sometimes.
Miranda rattles off a bunch of statistics about smoking, but you kind of tune it out after a few seconds. You don’t mean to, but her beautiful face is much more interesting to focus on.
After a while, Miranda stops and you go over to give her a hug and say you’re sorry.
Her face turns red in embarrassment as she gently pushes you off and tells you to go brush your teeth and take a shower. If you do a good job and promise not to smoke again… There may be cuddles in your future.
Bela:
Bela doesn’t like smoking. She has seen it in classic films and in literature and she just thinks it’s kind of gross.
You don’t ever do it around her because she has voiced this opinion many times.
When she can’t find you one day, she goes up to the roof of the castle to see you lounging and smoking as you have a beer.
She’s pissed. Not only are you smoking, but drinking alcohol too?! (This woman is so innocent, I swear).
You try to explain yourself, but Bela isn’t having it. She pulls you along by the ear and scolds you all the way until she gets to her room.
She literally watches as she makes you show her where your stash of cigarettes is and then she dumps them out. You tell her she better pay you back for those… She does out of moral obligation, but she snarks as she does it.
Cassandra:
You don’t really know how Cass will respond to your smoking, but better to be safe than sorry.
You try to do it when you know she will be busy for a while.
One day, you have a few cigarettes and then return to her room. Cass is already there and when you walk in she can immediately smell it.
She wrinkles her nose in disgust and asks you if you smoke.
You blush but nod.
Cass is torn. She can’t stand the smell of cigarette smoke… But, she thinks you probably look really badass and hot while doing it.
Overall though, she can’t support your smoking. She knows it’s bad for you and she doesn’t know what she would do if you got sick from it.
She, uncharacteristically, begs you not to smoke anymore. You are freaked out by this and decide that if Cass doesn’t want you to smoke this badly, you won’t do it anymore.
Daniela:
Dani thinks smoking is cool! (Don’t smoke, kids).
While she is surprised to find you smoking one day, she excitedly joins you and asks if she can have one.
You chuckle and jokingly scold her about the dangers of smoking.
She laughs with you and playfully rolls her eyes.
She actually teaches you how to make smoke rings. She’s from the 50’s, y'all. Smoking was super popular back then, don’t judge her.
You and Dani don’t smoke often, but you better hope that you don’t do it without her.
She’ll pout and whine about how you hate her and get super dramatic about it.
You try to limit your smoking, but it’s nice that Dani doesn’t make you feel bad for doing it.
Masterlist
#re8#re8 village#alcina dimitrescu#lady dimitrescu#alcina dimitrescu x reader#alcina dimitrescu x y/n#lady dimitrescu x reader#lady dimitrescu x y/n#cassandra dimitrescu#re8 shitpost#y/n is stupid#re8 incorrect quotes#bela dimitrescu#daniela dimitrescu#mother miranda#mother miranda x reader#donna beneviento x reader#bela dimitrescu x reader#cassandra dimitrescu x reader#daniela dimitrescu x reader
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ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ ꜱᴛᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ᴄᴀʀᴅɪɢᴀɴ - ʀᴇᴍᴜꜱ ʟᴜᴘɪɴ
Category: Remus Lupin X fem reader
Summary: University muggle AU- Remus bumps into you in a lecture, like literally… and turns out you have a lot more in common than you originally had thought.
Freshers week had killed you. You knew uni was going to be night out mad but on mornings like this where you had an early lecture with a new class, you regretted going a little too hard with your flatmates.
“Y/n are you up?” Your flatmate lily called out creaking the door open, her ginger hair frayed, with dark circles making her eyes squint.
“Yep.. yep I’m up… what’s the time?”
“8:35…”
“SHIT!” Your class started in 25 minutes and you had only just woken up.
You managed to get dressed at the speed of light, a cozy cardigan and mom jeans being thrown on as quickly as possible. You fixed your wild hair and messily applied a little makeup to brighten your exhausted complexion.
You left the flat with ten minutes till class waving a quick goodbye to your friends before running to the lecture hall. Just as you got inside, with One minute to spare, a hard body collided with your own. All of your papers and your thermos that you’d been passed by your flatmate before you left, spilled everywhere the hot coffee staining your cream cardigan.
“Oh shit! Shit, I’m so sorry…” a very tall, mousy-haired boy turned around. He dove to the floor and collected your papers, his cheeks red with embarrassment.
“Your cardigan… I’m so sorry… I was heading to my seat and I didn’t see you there because I’m pretty tall you see and..and-”
“Calm down… I’m fine.. really just shhh…”
The mix of your now damp body, your banging headache, and this boy rambling all became a little too much as you rose your finger to his lips to shut him up. He immediately did as he was told and scrambled to give you your papers back.
As the lecturer entered everyone began getting seated, leaving you following after the boy, the only remaining seat being beside him. You could feel his guilty eyes planted on you as the lecture began.
“So you’re interested in literature huh?” His voice whispered.
“Yes, I am… I assume you’re the same?” You replied politely.
“Yes.. look I know you told me to shhh but I feel really bad about me being a clumsy wanker…”
You couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your lips, another smile falling on his face.
“I’m Remus… Remus lupin…” he offered his hand
“I’m y/n.. y/n l/n…” you shook his hand and then turned away, now paying your full attention to the lecture.
Once the lecture had ended a couple of hours later, you were practically drifting into slumber. The boy beside you had noticed and carefully tapped your arm, resulting in you springing your eyes open.
“Remind me to never go on another night out when I have a lecture the following morning…”
He chuckled deeply and nodded following after as you both exited the lecture hall. His eyes followed your figure as he finally got a chance to take in your beauty. The way your hair, although messy, fell ever so perfectly and framed your face, the way your eyes twinkled at the end of the summer sun, you were mesmerizing, it took everything in him to not throw himself in front of a car over the fact he had greeted you by throwing coffee on you.
“Right better get back to my flat..”
“Same here I’m headed this way…”
Remus pointed in the same direction as your flat and the two of you laughed walking with each other. Truthfully he just wanted an excuse to spend more time with this pretty stranger.
“Freshers is killing you then huh?” Remus attempted to continue the conversation.
“Yes, it is! My friends are insistent on going out every night… and I mean don’t get me wrong I love drinking but every night… I just want to sleep…” you giggled lightly.
“Yeah I can relate to that one… my friends are just as bad… I’m more of a casual pub guy I guess… clubs are just so busy!”
“I completely agree! And it’s always packed and gross and just… oh here’s my flat block…”
Remus’s eyes widened “you’re kidding…”
“Uh no I’m not…” you shook your head confused.
“This is my flat block too!”
Both you and Remus burst into laughter “do you live alone?”
“No I live with three other guys… we all went to school together… what floor are you?” Remus asked as both of you got into the lift.
“Four…”
“We’re on the same floor!? Are you sure we don’t live together…” he joked
“Unless you’re secretly a woman then I’m not too sure…” you teased
Once the lift dinged to your floor both exited and went to walk in opposite directions down the corridor “right well it was nice to meet you, Remus.. apart from the uh.. coffee..”
Remus blushed deeply again “sorry.. again… and yeah it was lovely meeting you… uh if you ever want to go for coffee that does result being thrown all over you then my flat number is 106…”
You couldn’t help but blush yourself and smiled “Mines 112… I’m usually just binge-watching the office and reading so feel free to knock whenever…”
Remus nodded a little too enthusiastically before they both reluctantly departed. Unknown to each other both of them immediately sighed after entering their flats. Both are already growing crushes.
“What’s her name?” Sirius asked as he attempted to throw popcorn into James’s mouth.
“She doesn’t by chance live with a redhead called lily? I met her in my classes and I think I’m in love…” James uttered dramatically.
Remus rolled his eyes and sat with his friends “I’m not sure I haven’t been over there yet… and we haven’t had a class together since… I don’t wanna be some creep who just turns up on her doorstep..”
“Why don’t we all go? We could bring them like a cake or something for housewarming purposes…” James suggested with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“A cake? A fucking cake James? Oh yeah, nothing says raw sex appeal like a cake…” Remus countered sarcastically.
“Ooh, you have sex on your mind Mooney? Bloody hell I wanna see this girl come on…” Sirius announced springing to his feet and running out the door. Remus panicked and ran after him.
A knock on the door made you jump out of your skin. You were just dancing around in your kitchen to some Bowie and the loud bang halted you in your place.
Having just got out of the shower, it shocked you to have someone knock on your door so late in the evening, let alone when both your flatmates were out doing a food shop.
Apprehensively you opened the door and the site before you was pretty confusing. A guy with shoulder-length dark hair was leaning against the door frame with a smirk, while the boy you couldn’t stop thinking about was wide-eyed and panting behind him.
“Uh… hello?” You questioned
“Hello beautiful I’m Sirius… my friend here Remus said some girls lived down the hall and well I thought I’d introduce myself…” Sirius stated with a flirty smirk.
Remus looked completely horrified. The last thing he needed was his friend, who seemed to get any girl he wanted, going after the one girl he had taken a huge liking to.
“Well hello Sirius… my friends are currently food shopping so it’s just me… and hi Remus..” you said making a point of waving at the lanky boy who looked at a loss.
“We were out…” a female voice called out from behind the two boys. Lily and Marlene stood shopping bags in hand as they looked at the two boys judgmentally.
“Marlene.. lily this is Remus and Sirius…” you introduced opening the door wider so your two flatmates could pack away the shopping.
“Pleasure…” Marlene muttered sarcastically as she barged past the boys with lily following after.
“Is there something you wanted?” You asked politely realizing the two boys were still standing there.
“Well sorry y/n we were just… well he was-”
“What my dear pal Remus was trying to say is we’d love to come in.. have a couple of drinks get to know our new neighbours..” Sirius stated confidently.
You chuckled lightly and as your two friends simply murmured in agreement the two boys waltzed in, not before texting their over two friends to come and join in on the phone.
Turns out James and lily had met previously in one of their shared classes, the two of them chatted away happily. Marlene got along well with Sirius and Peter, she and Sirius bonded over their dating tips for men and women. This left you and Remus sitting together, both of you too nervous and awkward to start up a conversation.
“I see you got the stain out…” Remus’s voice called out after a prolonged silence.
You looked down at the cardigan you’d thrown on and smiled softly. It was the same one he’d stained with coffee just a few weeks prior.
“Yes I did.. was hard though I was going to knock on your door for the invoice..” you teased enjoying his gruff laugh.
“I know you hated me apologising but… I got you this as an apology…”
Remus rifled in his pocket for a bar of coffee flavoured chocolate. When he saw it he knew he needed to get it but just wasn’t sure when to give it to you.
Your eyes lit up at the site and you immediately threw your arms around him “This is my favourite chocolate brand!?”
“Me too!!” He said just as enthusiastically which made you chuckle even harder.
*********
The following months flew by with casual encounters and Remus doing everything to accidentally run into you. The annoying part was you were none the wiser, your friends however weren’t as oblivious.
Remus was currently doing his usual walk home, which consisted of walking past your apartment and loitering in the corridor just so he may be able to bump into you. Today however it wasn’t you he bumped into.
“Remus? Not loitering about again are you?” Marlene said rather bluntly as she left the flat.
“Oh no… I was just-”
“Save it… I know you’re mad for her and between me and you the feelings are mutual… so I’m going to help you…”
Remus was in shock but appreciated Marlene’s blunt attitude. He needed to take this into his own hands.
You had just come out of your last lecture for the day. Marlene had mentioned how no one was going to be home which was a little odd. But either way, you made your way home.
By the time you’d come up the stairs and gotten to the corridor where the entrance to your flat sat, it was clear what was going on.
There stood your favorite boy with a bouquet of flowers, a box of your favorite chocolates, and the cutest nervous smile you had ever did see. You were ready to grab him by the shoulders and snog him right then and there.
“Look y/n… I don’t think it’s too shocking by now to realise that I like you a lot… and if we could maybe… go out sometime… on a date, I’d be honoured…” Remus stated proudly. It was clear he’d rehearsed it in his head which to you made it even sweeter.
“Of bloody course…” you answered taking the flowers and chocolates and placing them on the ground. Remus furrowed his eyebrows and panic set in.
“Don’t you like them?”
“I love them… I can’t kiss you if there are flowers in your face though can I?”
“Guess not…”
Both of your cheeks were now hot with anticipation. You bent up and gently let your lips glide across his. You struggled not to smile throughout the kiss, it was so sweet and soft just like the boy before you
“About fucking time…” Marlene’s voice called out from the end of the hall. Unknown to you, all your new and old friends had gathered to watch the interaction. Sirius’s idea of course
#remus lupin x reader#sirius black x reader#James potter x reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x fem!reader#Harry Potter x reader#Fred weasley x reader#George weasley x reader#sirius black#marauders#Draco malfoy x reader
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