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depravitycentral · 10 months

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Yandere! Phinks Magcub NSFW Profile

Tw: mentions of non/dub-con, kidnapping, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, marking, spanking, anal, size kink but it's tall/bigger reader inclusive, mentions of somnophilia, praise, panty stealing, Phinks thinks your discharge is hot, breaking and entering, Phinks is vocal and you overhear him masturbating to you, marking, mentions of violence, pre-you Phinks is not a good hookup buddy, slight objectification, 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

HABITS:

Phinks is most certainly not a saint when it comes to anything involving sex; he’s had his fair share of hookups, nights spent in the arms of some random woman, only to slip out the door in the wee hours of the morning and never see them again.

He’s got experience, knows generally what he’s doing between the sheets, though only to a certain extent – he’s very much aware of how to fuck, how to prep a girl and get them creaming around his cock, but any of the other softer sides that sex has to offer? Yeah, Phinks has no fucking clue.

Pillow talk, sweet nothings, praise and eye contact meant for anything other than sexual tension are things that he’s more or less clueless about, having never really felt the need to try them or do them in any shape or form.

Why would he ever tell some random hookup that he loves them, that he’s so happy they’re in his life, that they’re perfect?

It’s just never been a thing for him, but this is, ironically, something that’s on Phinks’s mind constantly when it comes to you. He holds such intense devotion to you, such intense obsession and infatuation and yearning for you that the idea of being naked with you, feeling your skin and lovely body against his own is something that literally gives him goosebumps, pleasurable tingles running up and down his spine, making him flush lightly and clear his throat. It’s a thought that Phinks loves to entertain; the idea of holding you close, his arms caging in your head while his hips thrust into you gently and languidly, your pretty eyes staring up into his wide, teary yellow ones, you whispering that you love him…

It’s a guilty pleasure, and this leads to Phinks’s thoughts regarding you skewing a bit on the more lewd side, less innocent and wholesome. And while the thoughts of pillow talk and sweet words being exchanged between the two of you are things that frequently pass through his mind, so do the ideas of pinning you down and fucking you full of his cum, of having your legs thrown over his shoulders while he licks and sucks at your clit to make you come again and again and again, imagining you on your knees drooling and slobbering all over his cock.

The dirty thoughts do very much populate his mind as his obsession with you forms, so much so that he actually feels a bit guilty for how often he thinks of you nude and moaning his name – is it disrespectful to have wet dreams of you on a nightly basis, his sheets harboring permanent stains all because of you?

Is it tarnishing your image to be wringing himself dry to the thought of you on a daily basis, to be grunting and groaning your name so often that he’s sure the syllables are molded to his tongue, that your lovely name is being cried out while he does something so filthy?

He feels bad, but not enough to stop – no, not nearly enough, not when fucking his fist is the only possible solution to quelling the intense yearning and hunger he feels for you, if only slightly.

Phinks does, however, have one particular secret he feels really bad about – that is, while the thought of you is enough to get his cock throbbing, even just smelling you making him feel light headed and groaning lowly in his throat, he’s found that he really likes having an aid when he’s pleasuring himself.

He can come to the thought of you (easily, pathetically easily, once even without touching himself), but if he has something of yours, something soft and pretty and used, his orgasms come faster, harder, stronger.

That is, Phinks becomes something of a panty thief. The first time was genuinely accidental – he’d been snooping around your home, the front door’s lock carefully picked then relocked (he’d even taken off his shoes and neatly put them next to yours in the doorway, briefly staring at them side by side and letting the smallest of smiles flit across his lips).

He always saves your bedroom for last when he’s broken in – something about the excitement gets his face flushing, the idea of being in your room, surrounded by your things making him fiddle with his fingers a bit, cracking his knuckles idly because he has to be doing something with his hands. And once he finally reaches your room, he’ll stand in the doorway and take a deep, deep breath, letting his eyes flutter closed and his Adam’s Apple bob because god, it smells just like you.

He’s methodical and careful about the way he looks over all your things, staring at every little knick-knack and pen, carefully picking up any little bits of trash you may have on your drawers and throwing them away for you. He’s snooping through every drawer you have, looking over each piece of clothing and biting his lip as he imagines you wearing them, how your lovely body and curves would look with the fabric stretched across them.

And eventually, of course, he reaches a more intimate drawer, filled with things he’s sure you wouldn’t let just anyone see. Your panties are neatly tucked away in a corner, the different colors and styles making his throat feel dry, and for a moment he’ll only stare, his fingers frozen as he imagines the fabric sitting over your hips, laying across your ass, framing that perfect little pussy.

He’s gulping and carefully, oh so carefully, picking up a pair of black cotton ones, fingers gripping onto the edges, holding up and letting his eyes scan over every detail – a thread coming out here, discharge stains there, thinning fabric right over the padded area that must rub right against your cunt, the fabric maybe even bunching up, getting up in between your folds and getting drenched in your slick and tasting like you and smelling like you and fuck fuck fuck –

He’s hard before he knows it, cock angry and insistent in his trackpants, and he stares for a moment longer, his face on fire, before nearly flinging the pair down back onto the stack, bringing a hand up to cup at his chin, fingers pressing tightly against his mouth. He can’t.

God he wants to – to press them up to his face, licking and sucking at the fabric, letting any residual slick smear across his lips and skin, to revel in you, but he can’t. It would be too weird, crossing too many lines – plus, he doesn’t know how, but he feels like you’d know, like you’d somehow be aware of what he’d done with them.

Guilt brews in his chest, but he can’t tear his gaze away, his lower lip sucked between his teeth as tentative fingers reach out once more, tracing over that pulled seam, the thread spinning between his fingers.

Maybe you wouldn’t notice…?

Before he can really even decide, there’s a jiggling of the front door and soon he can hear your heavy sighs as you push it open, and all too soon he’s hauling himself out the window, having already known which ways to slide it open so that it’s silent, how to move to the screen so that you wouldn’t see any trace of him. His heart pounds, and it’s not until he returns back to wherever he’s calling home base that he notices the bulge in his pocket. In the safety of his bedroom, he furrows his brows and digs into the pocket, only to feel something soft, unfamiliar, warm…?

It’s those damn black panties; he must’ve grabbed them in his haste to escape your room, stuffing them absentmindedly in his pocket during his fleeing. Phinks gulps, staring down with wide eyes – what’s he supposed to do now?

He’s got them, and it’s not like he can go back and just return them – you’re home, and maybe you’d smell him on them. (The heavy scent of his cologne – smokey and minty – is difficult to mask, even when he tries.)

He’s not sure what to do, deciding to carefully fold them on his dresser and leave the room. It works, for a while – ignoring them, that is, until later that night when he’s got his TV on low, the poorly done action movie he’d thrown on getting to a part where the love interest and main character are alone.

The screen flashes to writhing bodies and obviously forced moans, and Phinks averts his eyes briefly, before snapping them back because that was weird, the actress looked just like you for a moment.

Truth be told, he’d put on this movie because the lead looked like you through the hair, but certainly not through the face. Yet when they throw their head back like that and gasp, it’s you – or, at least, the you that Phinks sees when he watches you stuff yourself full of your fingers and that damn vibrator you seem to love.

He bites his lip, watching as the sex montage only gets more explicit, the image of the man snapping his hips into the woman with enough fervor to get the bed shaking making him shake too. He’s palming himself, staring transfixed at the screen as the woman continues to moan and tremble under the man’s touch, Phink’s own voice mumbling your name as he reaches into his sweatpants to pull out his cock, already red and dribbling precum.

He hisses as his hand wraps around it, squeezing a bit and making him lick his lips. He’s lost in the moment, but it’s not until the screen flashes to a new scene that he pauses, realization hitting him square in the chest. On the screen lie the woman’s discarded red lace panties, strewn haphazardly across the hotel room chair. Her moans blast through the speakers as Phinks stands up, suddenly running to his bedroom and snatching up your panties from off the dresser.

Morals be damned, he’s hard – he’s hard and he needs you, and the closest thing to you he’s got is this stupid slip of cotton. He’s plopping back down onto the couch soon after, pressing the material up to his nose and letting a deep, strained groan tumble from his lips.

He’s set the movie to repeat the sex scene over and over again, and as his hand reaches down to grab a handful of his balls and squeeze, he can’t help but inhale at the panties again. They’ve been washed, but they still smell like you – a musky scent, like not all of you had quite been washed out. It’s good, but Phinks wants more, needs more, and soon his tongue is licking across the area that presses right up against your pretty folds and clit, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

His fist is moving up and down so fast it’s nearly a blur, foreskin tugged and fondled as he brings himself steadily closer to his high. He can’t help but imagine you in the position of the woman on the screen – tits bouncing and face all screwed up in ecstasy, crying out like his cock is the single best thing you’ve ever felt. He grits his teeth as the trace edges of his orgasm approach, the tingling in his thighs and contraction of his abs.

It feels good, so damn good, and it’s only once he opens his eyes again after fluttering them closed that he sees it – a stain, and not just any stain. Your discharge.

The light color makes him choke back a gasp, his taste buds fooling him into thinking he's tasting you – he can taste it now, musky and intoxicating, and soon he’s biting back a yell, hips bucking up and into his hand desperately and unevenly, cum spurting from his tip in copious ropes.

Your panties are pressed flush with his face, leaving practically no room for air, and all he can smell and taste and feel is you.

The woman in the movie is still moaning, babbling something about feeling full, and Phinks can only stutter his hips, chest heaving as he tries to recover from his orgasm, letting the panties stay perched across his mouth as he leans his head back. He feels dirty, bad, because he knows that a good portion of what got him to his finish was the presence of the cotton – of you, really.

But somehow, he doesn’t feel as guilty as he thought he would – rather, he feels this strange, indescribable sense of excitement, of satisfaction, because this is the closest he’s ever gotten to actually fucking you. He’s never had anything of yours to work with, and it felt so, so damn good – which is why he’s washing them and returning them, only to carefully pluck out a new pair the next week, gulping and – this time – purposefully stuffing them in his pocket, making a point to choose the one with the most stains on it.

And the week after that? Well, when the dirty panties are sitting right on the rim of the hamper, still glistening slightly with the caked in slick on them?

Fuck, he’s never come so much in his life.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your ass

Phinks likes to think of himself as relatively respectful towards women – he may be a murderer and a thief, but he’s never harassed or assaulted a woman. And he thinks that counts for something, saying at least something about his moral character. Consequently, he’s tried his best to stay away from objectifying women; or at least, belittling them down to their physical attributes.

And yet, there’s just something about you that makes it really, really fucking difficult for Phinks to not obsess over your physical appearance, to not be constantly fantasizing about how pretty you are. It’s incredibly difficult to not imagine the way your chest would feel against his, your nipples pebbled and brushing against the hard planes of his pectorals.

It’s extremely hard to not notice how your neck is the perfect size for his fingers to wrap around lightly, the soft skin so very squeezable, bruisable... He doesn’t actively try to objectify you, but he can’t help himself from gravitating towards certain parts of your body. It makes him feel dirty, disgusting, but Phinks can’t help but let his eyes linger on your ass every single time he sees you.

He’s not even doing it on purpose – his gaze is trailing down over your shoulders, along your spine, stopping right underneath your tailbone, his mouth suddenly going dry. It doesn’t matter whether you’re particularly endowed or not; Phinks has never felt such an urge to reach out and squeeze, to mindlessly grab and grope.

He’s never wanted so fervently to reach out and smack, to see the way it jiggles and hear you yelp and smack his hand away, looking all flustered and embarrassed and aroused. He doesn’t, of course; he may force you into a multitude of other undesirable situations (stalking you and kidnapping you, for example), but he’ll never lewdly touch you without your consent, even as badly as his body (and mind) beg him to.

And so, Phinks suffers in silence as you walk around, sneaking glances and then immediately feeling guilty, trying to fight the way his fingers twitch and fidget, practically aching to just brush against the soft fat, to smack, to spread your pretty cheeks and feel you shiver as cold air hits your folds. It makes him feel like a creep, so he tries his best to be inconspicuous with it – he doesn’t want you to notice him noticing you.

He doesn’t want to be caught red handed, to be confronted by you and asked why he’s ogling you like you’re some slab of meat, like you’re something for him to put his cock into.

(He wishes he could – he’d trade years of his life just to only once feel your warm cunt wrapped around him, to feel your fingers carding through his hair, to feel your kisses against his neck.)

But despite his efforts, Phinks is not nearly as subtle as he seems to think he is – you’ve caught him staring more times than you can count, and while it initially scared you, as you grow more and more complacent, the more you’ll tolerate it.

In fact, once your sexual relationship starts, you’re the one to sit yourself in his lap, scooping your hips and grinding down on his very noticeable bulge, even going so far as to grab his hands and place them on your ass. It makes Phinks splutter, because while he’s touched many women like this, it’s you – and it’s just as soft as he imagined it would be.

He’ll spend a very long time with his hands idly groping and squeezing, the pressure behind his fingers becoming more and more the longer he’s got you perched on top of him, until you fear you’ll find finger shaped bruises the next morning.

Once the floodgates are open, Phinks finds himself always gravitating towards your ass anytime you’re intimate with each other. His hands are finding purchase as he kisses you, cupping your thighs and pulling you upwards to wrap your legs around his waist, practically sprinting as he rushes to get you onto the bed to absolutely destroy you.

He’s smacking your ass as your face pushes into the mattress, pretty moans and cries of his name slipping past your lips with each smack and thrust, the pleasure mixing with the pain. He likes it when you wear shorts around the house; his favorites are the kind that ride up as you move, bunching up bit by bit, until eventually the entire curve of your lower ass is visible for his prying eyes.

(The way he slowly licks his lips as he stares is almost comical to you, looking like some horny cartoon character. And yet, it’s strangely flattering – because you can see his erection from across the room when this happens, it’s just too insistent to hide.)

He likes to take baths with you (this takes a while to happen, however, because the idea of it gets his head spinning and his cock involuntarily hard, even though he desperately wants the moment to be innocent, loving), pulling your back flush against his body, your ass pressed up right against his cock.

You can always feel the way it slowly grows hard, his voice slowly getting deeper, his movements more fidgety and nervous. (You can feel it in the way his fingers – which had been drawing soft circles on the skin of your shoulders – freeze up if you move even slightly, the bob of his length in time with the little gust of air he breathes out.)

There’s just something about how soft and warm you always are that makes Phinks melt, and anytime he’s in bed with you, something is touching your ass – be it his hand or hips.

His hands

While Phinks has never purposefully not given a hook-up an orgasm, it’s never been his top priority. He’s engaging in the hookup because he wants to get off, and if his partner doesn’t get there, is it really his problem? He doesn’t think it’s his responsibility to help them finish, and this philosophy has become pretty ingrained in him over the years. If they happen to get off before he does, great - if not, well, who’s fault is that, really?

And yet, when he first starts fantasizing about becoming intimate with you, everything changes. He wants to make you feel good, to get you squirming and trembling under his touch. He wants to make you cry out his name and gush for him, to be left with a slick, sticky mess between your legs.

He wants to make you gasp and writhe, and while he’s most definitely fingered a woman or eaten her out, he’s approaching these activities with you with a renewed fervor. He has to make you come – he won’t let the sex be over until you’ve reached your high at least once, and as time goes on he decides his favorite way to do this is by fingering you.

His hands are rough; calloused and full of scars, evidence of the hard life he’s lived. Those hands cause so much pain and suffering, and yet when they touch you, they’re nothing but gentle, caring, eager. He likes the difference between his hands and your own body when he’s touching you in your most sensitive areas – you’re so soft and warm while he’s so hard and rough, and he’ll often spend time simply touching you.

He’s letting his fingers run along the insides of your thighs, occasionally pressing down on the soft flesh a little too hard, sometimes leaving bruises in their wake. He’ll press his thumb along the curve of your pelvic bone, right above your clit, tracing down to ever so lightly run along your slit.

He’s drawing careful circles on your clit, eyes flicking up between your cunt and your face over and over, checking for every possible reaction to see what you like most, what makes your eyebrows twitch and your lips part into that pretty little ‘o’.

He’ll carefully slip a finger inside, shallowly thrusting and exploring in every direction, seeing which spot makes you bite your lip or clutch onto him. He’ll slowly work it deeper, rubbing against your walls and feeling the way you clench down on him, beads of precum streaming down his length in anticipation of it being him inside you, fucking you like you deserve.

He’ll slip a second finger inside, working into you and curling them forward, to the side, straight, anything it takes to get you sighing, anything to get you keening out a o-oh, right there Phinks, mmm!

He likes watching you slowly fall apart on his fingers, and his stamina is good enough that he can keep up the same motion for hours, no matter how complicated or strenuous. His fall back is always to finger you, and once he learns the pattern you like, it’s over – he’s slipping his fingers inside any time he thinks he can get away with it (once you’ve consented to his sexual advances, of course – a mistake, really, as once the floodgates are opened, he’s insatiable).

And oh – the way you look when your lips around his fingers makes him nearly cream his pants, the wet feeling and the way your lashes bat up at him making him so hard it hurts.

He’s committed to making you feel as good as he possibly can, and once he notices your affinity for his fingers, he’s eager to get you creaming and gasping in any way he possibly can – just make sure he cuts his nails, because once he gets into the groove of it, it’s nearly impossible to get him to stop until you’ve come all over his fingers so many times that you’re brain dead and just begging for something bigger to fill you up.

And who would Phinks be to decline such a frantic request?

DRIVE:

Generally speaking, Phinks’s sex drive is average – he’s had his fair share of hookups over the years, women he’d pick up in a drunken stupor or while on the high of a completing a job, spend the evening between the sheets, only to disappear when the rays of the morning sun peek through the low-class motel windows.

He’s not especially ashamed of his history of fucking and running; he honestly doesn’t care – who’s business is it that he’s balls deep inside someone who’s name he doesn’t even know? Surely not a stranger’s, surely not even anyone else in the Troupe.

Fucking is just fucking, after all – nothing more, nothing less. His sex life is something he’s a bit private about, and while he’s not embarrassed, he is actually a bit of a prude. Not enough to stop him from actively engaging in casual sex, but enough to make him a little hesitant to openly discuss it, especially when women are present.

And so, while he very much enjoys getting his dick wet, feeling something warm and wet clenching down on his cock so tightly he thinks he might explode, he’ll keep his rather insistent horniness dormant for most parts of his life. Sex talk is reserved for the bedroom, and that’s that. But that dormancy starts slipping once you show up, bringing with you all of your curves and softness and beauty.

To be honest, Phinks is absolutely done for the minute his obsession forms with you, if only because all those perverted thoughts and sexual desires that were swept under the rug in non-sexual situations are suddenly overflowing now that he has a target with which to fantasize. No longer is he swinging by the nearest dive bar and picking up a girl drunk enough to pass out, but instead he’s imagining your plush, wonderful thighs clamping around his waist as he fucks into you deeper.

He’s not fucking his fist, hoping for a quick orgasm to get him to sleep, instead fantasizing about you caging in his head as he sucks and licks at your cute cunt displayed above him as you ride his face.

No longer is he pleasuring himself to just the general thought of sex or receiving quality head, but instead he’s thinking of how you’d give him head, how your pretty lips would wrap so perfectly around his girth, how your little gagging noises would have his eyes rolling to the back of his head and his hips moving on their own, his tip ramming against the back of your throat as he loses control and uses your mouth as his personal cocksleeve.

His desires for you come to light remarkably fast; he feels dirty, disgusting for sexualizing you so frequently and fervently, but Phinks honestly can’t help it – he can’t not think about what your body looks like beneath your clothes, how your curves and soft skin look when you’re laid bare and spread out on your tiny little bed.

(He’s spent hours stalking you and watching outside your window with flushed cheeks and ragged breaths, so the question is really a moot point.)

He can’t not think about how you’d sound moaning and crying out his name when you’re gushing all over his fingers.

(He’d be more than happy to bring those fingers up to his lips and suck every bit of your slick off, the taste of you driving him forward and practically forcing his cock into your tight little hole, too frantic to even consider going slow for you.)

He can’t not think about how you’d squeal and bite your lip as he pounds into you hard enough to leave you limping. (He’ll feel a bit guilty the morning after, but there’s this swell of pride settling in his chest because he did that, and the cum sitting inside you is proof of that.)

He can’t not imagine getting intimate with you, and while he’s embarrassed beyond words to admit how often he’s humped your pillow or left cum stains on your panties all because of you you you, he also can’t deny it – because really, when your body calls to him on such an animalistic, raw level, how can Phinks deny anything?

However, when it comes to actually initiating anything sexual with you, Phinks absolutely refuses unless he has your explicit and eager verbal consent.

He’ll never force you into anything in the bedroom, partially because he holds a certain amount of respect for women and for consent in general, and because he absolutely does not want you to be any more afraid of him than you already are.

He’s terrified that you’ll think of him as a monster if he were to try to force himself onto you, and while Phinks heavily tends to overthink and blow things out of proportion, he may honestly be right with this one. Because quite frankly, you will realize early on that he gets horny quite easily, and you will understand that if Phinks Magcub really wanted to, he could have you pinned down and skewered on his cock in a matter of seconds without you being able to land a single defensive blow.

You’re both aware of this, to the point where Phinks actively avoids anything intimate between you both, even for things as simple as holding your hand or pressing a kiss to your jaw or neck. He’s just too nervous to scare you, and – though he’ll never admit it – he’s just nervous of you.

He tends to get in his head, hyper fixating and worrying to an extreme degree about everything regarding you, and that natural awkwardness that he exhibits in nearly every other aspect of his obsession with you applies here as well.

He wants to have the confidence to kiss you and touch you, but he really doesn’t – he wants to rip your clothes off and fuck you like an animal in heat and claim you as his, but he just can’t bring himself to, for fear of freezing up, looking like an idiot, doing something wrong, or oh god, what if he can’t make you come, if you’re unsatisfied and never want to sleep with him again oh god oh god oh god no –

It’s a downward spiral, which leads to one clear-cut solution in Phinks’s mind – don’t try anything with you, and instead relieve the intense urges you inspire within him by himself.

Which would be a wonderful plan, if it were to go as smoothly as he thinks it does.

The reality, of course, is that the moment Phinks feels even the slightest bit of pressure in his pants, any sort of a rush of blood below the belt, he’s immediately spluttering, pulling some excuse out of his ass about how he needs to piss, I’ll uh – I’ll be back, no don’t pause the movie, um, I’m gonna go now and practically bolting away to the nearest restroom.

He doesn’t feel proud as he locks the door behind him, chest heaving as his pants fall to his ankles, the eager and insistent erection pressing against his underwear making him curse and shut his eyes tightly, praying that he comes quickly so he can return to you.

He hopes he’ll come fast so that he can look at you and think of you and hear you and smell you and imagine you – his hand gets the job done, for the most part, as he quickly and near violently begins jerking his fist up and down, the sensitive skin of his length making him hiss through clenched teeth.

It would all be a good plan – except that Phinks tends to be a bit loud, the passion and pleasure gripping him and making hoarse groans of your name tumble from his lips, curses and praises of what he imagines you in his fantasies doing (there’s lots of good girl, oh fuck that’s a good girl, look so pretty all stuffed full, gonna – gonna make you come so fucking hard baby), to the point where even with a hand firmly pressed over his lips, his sounds are more than apparent to you.

You, who sits outside a distance away from the bathroom door and is forced to listen to the way he gasps and cries out your name so wantonly. You can even hear the wet squelching noises, rhythmic but getting less steady as he nears his finish.

If he’s quick about it (and has a fresh mental image of you bending over, leaning forward, licking your lips, stretching, really anything), Phinks can be grunting and whimpering your name as white stains his hands in as soon as two minutes, though the noises he makes when he comes will be difficult to ignore – as is the way he stumbles out of the room, legs slightly shaky and his cheeks still a violent shade of pink as he averts eye contact, clearing his throat and asking what you’d like for dinner, if you’re feeling alright, why you’re looking at him with such an embarrassed and shocked face while you clench your thighs together…

(His hands are still warm once he comes back, still a bit sweaty, and although he washed his hands afterwards, sometimes you think you even see a bit of cum left on his skin, evidence of how frantically he’d been trying to get off and return to you.)

He has no idea that you’re able to hear him, that his depraved confessions of love and desperation for you during the height of his pleasure are completely heard by you each and every time, but unless you want to see the blond near literally combust from sheer embarrassment and mortification, don’t mention it.

No, instead, the moment you see a tent forming in his trousers, his body growing stiff as he nervously glances at you from the corner of his eye, stop him – he may not be willing to initiate sexual encounters, but that does not mean he isn’t willing to let you sink to your knees and beg him to please let me taste you, ‘ve been wanting to for so long, please Phinks…

He won’t not let you climb into his lap and grind on him until he’s gasping and squeezing his eyes shut as his boxers are stained and sticky with his cum.

He may be hesitant and constantly asking for reassurance that you’re really okay with helping him out, but he won’t ever say no – because you’re a beautiful woman that he’s madly, desperately in love with, and who in their right mind would say no to you?

MAIN THREE KINKS

Size kink

For Phinks, this kink is really more about strength than actual physical size.

There’s something about you that’s so damn soft; your skin, your touch, your body, every physical part of you (and he knows every fucking nook and cranny of your body, even if you aren’t aware of it). Even your personality and voice are things that make him melt, the innocence that practically radiates off of you in waves making him flush and gulp. It doesn’t matter what your own past is – compared to him and his more alternative lifestyle, you are weak, laughably and worryingly incapable of defending yourself against others, like a bunny prancing around in a pack of wolves.

But that’s what Phinks likes about you – you’re so damn warm and soft and perfect to just grope at and squeeze that it nearly makes him drool, his hands often having a mind of their own and landing on your curves before he can even stop them.

You’re just so touchable, and Phinks really notices this when he’s got you underneath him, writhing under his fingers and moaning his name. He likes the difference in strength between the two of you; of course, it’s the root of many of his worries in the bedroom (like hurting you or fucking you too hard and breaking you), but it’s also one of the things he can’t stop thinking about when he’s got you wrapped around his cock, your walls fluttering and squeezing down on him hard enough to get him seeing stars.

He likes how your body is so cushiony, the perfect juxtaposition against his calloused, rough skin.

He likes how if he wanted to, he could hold you down with just a single hand, your pretty body open and vulnerable for him to do whatever he hell he wants with you - like you’re some sweet little toy all for him.

And while he very much cares about your own pleasure, there’s something about that thought - of you being something for him to use, to fuck and touch and shove his cock into - that makes him so hard it’s nearly painful, his mind spinning because god, how did he get so lucky?

He can’t help but marvel at the difference between you two once you’re even a bit undressed - every new inch of skin is something that makes him bite his tongue, suck in a sharp breath, gulp, palm at the growing bulge in his pants.

He can’t help but notice the way your arms aren’t corded with muscle like his - he can tell with how they tremble when you wrap them around his neck when he gets close to his end, his hips starting to stutter and move on of their own accord.

He can’t help but notice the way your fingers are so damn tiny, staring and muttering a small fuck under his breath when you wrap them around his girth, fingertips just barely touching, looking so very different from his own hands that seem to dwarf his cock when he’s gripping it.

He can’t help but notice the way your lips struggle to fit around him, your little mouth not big enough to get as much of him in as he’d like - though there’s something oddly hot about watching you struggle, about seeing the way you gag and choke on him when he goes just a hair too deep, his balls twitching and clenching because you can only fit a little over half of him in. He can’t help but notice the way your cunt desperately tries to make room for him, your walls squeezing down on him to the point where he feels like he can barely move, the grip so tight it’s mixing between pleasurable and painful.

You’re just so weak and tiny, even if you really aren’t that much smaller than him, and in Phinks’s mind, it only solidifies your roles in the bedroom. He likes to think of himself as the one in charge, the one making sure that you feel good, like he’s the one fucking you, and when you’re just so pathetically weak and easy to throw around like some ragdoll, how can he not feel that way?

He doesn’t manhandle you to the degree that he wishes he could, but he’s still insistent with moving your body the way he wants, switching positions where he’s doing all the work of arranging your body - all you have to do is look pretty and let him shove his cock back inside you, letting him work his way back up to an orgasm he hopes you’ll reciprocate.

(He wishes he could manhandle you more, but he doesn’t if only because he’s scared he’d hurt you, nervous he’d lose control and accidentally send you flying across the room. And despite him dialing it down a bit, you most definitely feel like you’re just some sex doll for him sometimes - the way he just effortlessly grasps your hips and shifts you into his lap, only to manually thrust up into you from below makes you feel like you’re just a hole for him to stuff, like he’s using you for his pleasure. Of course, the praise and the way he eagerly rubs at your clit with frantic motions tell you it’s not so, but damn do you feel like it when he’s lifted you up against the wall, holding you with one hand while he grunts and groans and nearly kisses your cervix with his tip.)

Phinks tends to lose himself during sex, your body and the pleasure you give him just too overwhelming for him to keep a clear head, but Phinks likes it. In fact, if you really want to get him in the mood (not a difficult task, but still), come up to him and press your tits against his chest, fluttering your lashes at him and tell him you feel empty, can you fill me up Phinks? Want you to stretch me out, I miss your cock…

He’ll stammer and blush, mentally imagining the way you always writhe and bite your lip when he first pushes inside you, your muscles clenching and sucking him in deeper and deeper, right up until his balls are flush with your ass, the warmth and wetness you cover him in making him hiss and suck a nipple into his mouth.

He just likes the idea that he’s your big, strong protector, and you’re his sweet little woman, desperately in need of his care and protection, desperately in need of the masculine, large cock hanging between his legs, always ready to plug you up with his cum.

He just wants to provide for you, really, and would he be a good boyfriend, partner, lover, if he didn’t regularly show you just how big he truly is?

Praise

Between the sheets, Phinks is relatively vocal. He’s not too much of a talker, being able to, at most, get out a stuttered phrase or two, but that doesn’t mean he’s quiet. Oh no, it’s just the sounds - he’s constantly grunting and groaning, cursing under his breath and softly gasping when you get tighter or wetter or claw down his back. He’s always groaning in your ear, his voice strained and gravelly and weak, as if he’s one breath away from coming the moment he slips inside you.

(He is, most of the time, but he’s got enough self control to stave off his release. Most of the time.)

He’s vocal in the sense that there’s always some sort of noise slipping past him, but as time passes and your sexual relationship with him grows, he finds himself uttering more and more words, actual thoughts slipping past his lips rather than a low grunt as he ruts his hips against yours loud enough to make a clapping, smacking noise.

Before he knows it, there are praises slipping out when he’s buried inside you, his cheeks a light pink as he tells you it’s so good, his eyes fluttering closed and his lip caught between his teeth as you clench down on him.

He’s telling you you’re so fucking pretty when you’re on your knees in front of him, soft lips clasped around his tip and lightly suckling, your eyes blinking up at him.

He’s nearly whimpering as you slowly raise yourself up and sink down, cock dragging along your walls as you sit perched in his lap, gasping out a ‘s so fucking good, fuck baby, fuck!

He doesn’t know where the instinct to praise you is coming from - past hookups have not been so fortunate, instead getting either nothing or derogatory comments mid-fuck about how they’re a fucking slut, demanding that they go faster, arch their back more, suck me harder. He’s never been nice in the bedroom, and yet it’s subconscious the way the words are slipping from his lips, his hands grasping onto your hips or ass as he lays into you, wanting to mold your cunt to the shape of him.

And although he’s still a bit difficult to understand (his words are always a little rushed, a little slurred, a little stuttered), you’ll mostly know what he’s saying, hearing the way he’s always calling you pretty or warm or wet or perfect or telling you that he’s gonna come, fuck babe ‘m close, tell me I can come inside you - please, fuck tell me!

(He doesn’t really need your permission on that last point, but he likes hearing you say it, admitting that you want him to come inside, that you want his cum, your own voice sounding fucked out and airy, just as he likes it. Besides, feeling the way you clench down on him even tighter, constricting around his cock so hard he can barely thrust in and out is worth it - it makes him wonder if you’re really that turned on, if you’re really feeling that good because of him, because of his body and his touch and his length. It makes him shiver, and he’s spilling inside you just from hearing your little y-yes, come inside Phinks!)

It’ll make you feel good, honestly, and it only feels natural to extend the praise back - a development that Phinks really, really likes. His face turns red when you tell him that he feels good when he’s got his fingers rubbing against your walls, curling and rubbing against you with eagerness, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as soon as hears your voice.

(Often times you saying this will have him changing the pace slightly, excitement getting the best of him, leaving him to go faster, to rub harder, always getting embarrassed when you gently tell him like before, please, feels good when you do it like before.)

His breathing gets heavier when you whine his name and tangle your fingers into his hair as he licks and tongues at your clit, your voice ringing in his ears when you tell him you’re gonna come, Phinks you’re so good, please let me come for you!

(He’s groaning against your folds, hands squeezing at your thighs and nodding his head vigorously, his eyes squeezing closed as he focuses everything he has on getting you off, on making sure he feels the way your walls clench and flutter, the slick oozing out of you immediately slurped up with a moan.)

And when he’s fucking you? Oh. Well, the moment you say anything even remotely positive about his performance, about his body, about him, he’s staring at you with wide, blown out eyes, before immediately crushing you into an embrace, his lips on yours with an unbridled passion that leaves you breathless. The kiss will be harsh, desperate, his actions rushed and nearly half-assed, as if there’s so much he wants to do and taste and feel that he can’t decide where to start.

He loves when you tell him he’s so big, stretching me out so good Phinks! He growls when you run your nails down his back, whining about how it’s so good, right there, that’s it baby!

He’s thrusting into you with new vigor when you tell him that you’ve never been treated so well, that you’ve never been fucked so good, only you Phinks, only you!

He’s spasming and letting out these strained, embarrassed little whimpers when you throw your head back and moan his name, a rushed proclamation of ‘m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come-! Even compliments outside the bedroom have this effect on him; tell him his hair looks nice and he’s immediately trying to hide his face, his cheeks tinged pink and his heart hammering because you like his hair?

If you tell him he’s strong, that his muscles turn you on, Phinks is training harder, hitting the gym more often, doing everything he possibly can to get stronger, subtly trying to flex his arms everytime you’re around just so that you’ll notice him, that you’ll find him attractive and want him.

And when you run a finger down his chest, telling him he’s so handsome, I love that you’re mine? You’re on the bed quicker than you can process, clothes being torn off and eager hands groping at your tits, your ass, your hips while he spears you on his cock, sliding in with a wet pop and grunting out your name under his breath.

He’s just so very affected by you, and even after his hips have stilled, his softening cock still snug inside you, he’ll whisper your name, telling you that you’re perfect, letting his fingers trace your cheekbones and run over your hair, his lips softly, nervously pressing against yours, the kiss innocent and sweet and almost sad.

Because really, how can Phinks be displeased when he’s finally able to freely express how he feels about you, what he thinks about you?

It feels good to be honest, to tell you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and as time passes he grows less shy about it - besides, when your cunt takes him so well and your face screws up into that lovely, sexy expression you make when you’re coming, Phinks would tell you anything you want to hear.

Anything to get you screaming his name, anything to get you craving him just as he craves you. Anything at all.

Voyeurism

In general, Phinks wants to be an active part of your sexual pleasure. He wants to be the one touching you, slowly peeling off your layers of clothing as your pretty skin is revealed to him, looking so soft and touchable and fuckable.

He wants to be the one kissing you, stealing your breath away and leaving you weak-kneed and desperate, your lips all swollen and puffy when he’s through with you. He’ll even leave a few bite marks against the supple flesh, simply getting carried away when he’s got you in his arms and his tongue pushing into your mouth.

He wants to be the one that makes you shiver and rub your thighs together, your tits sitting in his palms as he squeezes and kneads, your nipples tweaked between his fingers or sucked into his mouth as he runs his tongue along your areola or very lightly nibbles on your nipple.

He wants to be the one spreading your legs, a thumb dipping down to press against your clit, rubbing circles along the sensitive nub and leaving you twitching and moaning his name, your pretty hips jerking and bucking as he keeps up the pace.

He wants to be the one who’s fingers are sinking into you, your little gasps and sighs all because of the way he curls his fingers and flicks his wrist just so, making you cream and gush so much that his entire hand is wet, fucking soaked.

He wants to be the one sinking inside you, cock stretching out your walls and molding you into his shape, like you were made for him, like your cunt was made for sucking him in and never letting him go.

He wants to be the reason for your pleasure, but there’s a strange, taboo sort of allure to watching you feel good, your body on display for him, all for his viewing pleasure. There’s something about the idea of you putting on a show for him that makes him gulp and palm himself, the idea that you want him to watch you fall apart in front of him enough to get him unbearably horny for hours. He likes the idea of watching you fuck yourself, of having you spread out before him with your body just out of his reach, just slightly too far for him to reach out and grab.

He wants you to sit him at the end of the bed while your sit at the head, spreading your legs and letting him see how your folds glisten in the light, the amount of slick absolutely depraved.

He wants you to tease yourself, rubbing along your inner thighs and all around that pretty pussy except for the spots he knows you really need it, your little whines and sighs making his cock twitch, already hard and aching to be touched by you.

He wants you to spread your folds a bit, biting your lip and letting him see exactly what he’s missing out on; the way your hole clenches around nothing, a bit of slick oozing out at the motion, makes him audibly groan your name, unable to look away as you slowly, so damn slowly sink a finger inside, all the way up to your knuckle. He’ll watch with wide, rapt attention as you let your head fall back, humming at the feeling, making a show of pulling your finger out only to thrust it right back in, the wet squelching noise making his head spin.

He wants to watch you add another finger, to go faster, to go harder, to finger you how he’d finger you – all firm motions and hesitant touches, so eager to pleasure you but not quite sure where to start.

He wants you to pull your fingers out with a popping noise, parting those pouty lips and letting your tongue roll out to lick and suck the slick right off your fingers, jealousy and arousal pooling in his gut because god, he wants a taste too.

He wants you to talk to him, to tell him how good you’re feeling, how you love it when there’s something inside you, how you need something big and strong and thick to fuck you like you need, like you deserve.

He wants you to detail how you’re feeling, describing the pleasure as you draw shapes onto your clit, licking your lips and moaning about how it’s so good, ‘m gonna come soon Phinks!

He especially likes it when you change positions, moving from sitting up and facing him to getting on your knees, spreading your legs and letting your face rest against the mattress, an arm coming up to clumsily sink back into your hole, the new angle making him imagine all the time he’s fucked you like this, absolutely pounding into you over and over until your ass was nearly bruised from the intensity of his thrusts.

He can’t stop staring, seeing the way your thighs shake, the wet schlucking noises as you fuck yourself making him suck in sharp breaths, the slight bit of drool coming from your lips as you writhe and gasp making him want to stuff his cock into your mouth so you’ll stop being so messy.

He just likes the idea of watching and putting on something so intimate and vulnerable for him, all while he has to sit there, unmoving, not even touching himself and instead just having to take it, to watch and stare and wish with every fiber of his being that it was his fingers and tongue making you cream and moan and cry out for more more more!

It’s like some sweet kind of torture, reminiscent of the early days of his obsession when he was reduced to just watching you masturbate through windows or screens, unable to be present with you and help you out the way he knows he can.

It’s exciting, taboo, dirty in a way that makes Phinks’ gut tingle with excitement, his balls clenching and tightening up, his fingers twitching because god, when you finally cave at the end, begging him to finally just touch you, he’s practically sprinting to you, jumping on you while his hands wander and grab onto every piece of you they can find.

He’s all over you like some wild animal, a madman as he tries to get inside you only to be so excited and frantic that he’s slipping out, curses falling past his lips because all he really needs is to just fuck you, to be inside you, to be as close to you as he physically can be.

He’s pathetic, really, and if you were to put on a show for him like this, he may even end up coming before you cave – untouched, too, the white cum splattering along his chest and thighs a reminder that even without stimulation, just the mere sight of you can have him blowing his load before it can even sit inside you.

Wasting it, really, but if you were to sigh softly and kiss his cheek, leaning down and licking up every drop decorating his body?

Well, he's sure he could fuck you hard enough to squirt if you’d just let him try. Please let him, he’s begging you.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Anal

Now, this isn’t something Phinks actively fantasizes about – he’s watched some porn featuring it before, and while it wasn’t something he would seek out again, he was oddly fascinated by it.

There’s something arousing about the idea of stretching out something so, so incredibly tight, fueling his size kink and making him feel proud of just how big he is. But he’s never gotten a girl to agree to it before, and he’s not cared enough to press the issue – and even once you step into his life, he’s not desperate to enact this particular fantasy.

He’d much rather partake in the thousands of other things he wants to do to you – and have you do to him, too. But once he’s been sexual with you for long enough, fleeting thoughts and curiosities are eating away at him.

Would you like it? He knows most women don’t, but maybe you’re the exception, or maybe you’d be willing to let him indulge?

He’ll bring it up after a very long time of debating, mentally rehearsing his words over and over to make sure he’s got them right, so that they aren’t forceful or demanding.

He’s nearing stumbling over his own voice as he asks you if you’d like to uh, you know, use the other hole…?

He makes it more awkward than it needs to be, but if you say yes, he’s gulping and nodding, already telling you he’s done research, that you need to avoid these foods while he goes out and buys enough lube to lasts you both years, all the while trying to ignore the steadily growing erection in his pants.

You’re so damn tight like this - even more than your cunt, something Phinks didn’t think was possible. You’re warm, and the sight of him sinking into you, into the wrong hole, makes his head spin, every shitty porno he’s ever watched paling in comparison because god, who knew you’d take it in the ass so well?

If you say no, he’ll be understanding, vowing to not bring up the topic again – except, his curiosity doesn’t just go away. Instead, it’ll manifest itself in other ways; you’re on your knees, ass in the air and face resting on your pillow as he fucks into you hard enough to leave you gasping and clutching onto the seats?

Well, he’s pulling your cheeks apart, his eyes fixing on your clenched hole the whole time, his hand smacking against your cheek and idly moving his thumb to lightly, gently brush over your asshole, lightly pushing and feeling the way you squirm under him.

He’ll find himself between your legs, slick smeared all along his lips and chin, eating you out so frantically that his tongue is starting to hurt, only to – without even thinking, really – dip his tongue down, tracing lightly over your lower hole, fluttering his eyes closed when your hips jerk and you let out a Phinks!

He won’t ever force you into anal, but you’ll be able to tell what he wants from the way he’s always letting his gaze linger on your ass, his fingers dipping dangerously close, his hands spreading your cheeks and licking his lips at the sight.

He’s not exactly subtle, so unless you want to run the risk of getting a finger up the ass with no warning, you might as well give into his desires – once couldn’t hurt, right?

Besides, you never know until you try – just be careful, because Phinks wants to claim every single part of you, and that pert, tight little hole is no different.

Marking

He’s possessive, every part of him yearning to own you, and in the bedroom this isn’t exactly a secret. He’s still desperate to stake his claim on you, to make sure you understand that you are his, that your heart and body and soul belong to him.

And while it’s great and wonderful to be stuffing you full of his cum, leaving your pussy full of him and only him, he wants more. He needs to lay a physical mark on you that proves that you’re his, that he’s the only one allowed to love you, to touch you, to please you. Just the thought of leaving a mark on you gets him breathing heavily, his fingers clenching into fists and his knees feeling a bit weak because god.

He’s picky about how he marks you up, though – because of his aversion to physically harming you, he reverts to sexual ways of marking you more often than he’d care to admit.

He loves leaving hickies; the dark purple spots will appear all over your body, evidence of the way he’s pressed his lips onto every inch of your skin, his tongue often coming out to lick and suck at you until you’re squirming and left with the ugly, swollen bruise as a reminder of Phinks.

His favorite spots to leave them are along the expanse of your collarbone, right up at the base of your throat and stretching all along to your shoulders. There’s something so intimate about the area, something so sexy and demure, and he’ll purposefully only provide you clothing that doesn’t fully cover the area, if only because he really, really likes glancing at you and seeing the dark spots, his eyes immediately drawn to the places where he’s claimed you.

(It makes him flush a bit to think that his lips have been there; his spit had been covering the area, lips and tongue sucking and bruising and kissing, all while you had to sit there and take it, maybe even carding your hands through his hair, maybe even sighing out Phinks… The bathroom’s far away, but he’s quickly rushing towards it, a hand coming down to block the sight of the now noticeable bulge in his tracksuit pants.)

He’s also particularly fond of leaving hickeys along your inner thighs, purple spots leading up to your pretty folds, and every time he gets you spread out before him, he likes to kiss them, trailing his lips up and up and up, leaving you frustrated and desperate, more often not.

He just wants something of his close to intimate, vulnerable areas - your cunt, your neck, your breasts, everything.

You just look so pretty like this - so don’t be surprised when you notice his gaze lingering on your neck, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips as he stares.

You’re just too attractive, so enticing, and how can he not leave hickeys on you every time he gets his hands on you, even if you ask him to stop?

It’s like he’s not in control of his own actions - he’s too lost in the pleasure of being near you, of touching you, and when he finally snaps out of it you’ll be painted with bruises and swollen skin and him him him.

He likes it, a lot, so just get used to it - because he will not stop.

BIGGEST FANTASY:

Although a very, very large part of Phinks craves to fuck you in the most raw, animalistic way he possibly can, there’s another part of him that yearns for soft, gentle, romantic sex. He’s constantly at war with himself, alternating between wanting to get you screaming or getting you moaning.

Does he want to leave you sore enough that you can’t walk the next day, left to fully depend on him because his cock literally made you go dumb?

Or does he want you to be left with deep, big hickies decorating your collarbone and neck while he praises you for your beautiful body, your soft hands clutching onto him even as you both wake up the morning after, unwilling to let go of him?

He’s constantly fighting himself, because both options sound so, so very good, and frankly, he’s not too picky – either option is fine with him, it really just depends on your own sexual preferences, and what stage you’re at in your sexual relationship.

That said, there are a few hard and fast fantasies that Phinks would give absolutely anything to live out.

They’re the kind of scenarios that he thinks over in hyper specific detail as he drifts off to sleep, trying to immerse himself in every aspect of the fantasy so he can pretend to be right beside you, feeling your touch and hearing your cries and marking up your pretty skin and stuffing you so fucking full –

They’re the stuff of his wet dreams, and one of his favorite fantasies to revisit is the idea of you waking him up because you need him in the middle of the night, your body craving his touch so badly that you just can’t take care of yourself without him.

He likes the idea of you rousing him awake, slick already coating the insides of your thighs while you sneak a hand down into his boxers and squeeze, thumbing his tip and tugging him up and down a few times.

He wants you to kiss him, whining into his mouth, only to pull back and beg him to please, please fuck me Phinks, need you so bad, I can’t come without you, please…

Mostly, this fantasy stems from wanting you to desire him – he wants your body to become so dependent on his, to be so spoiled from his touch that you literally can’t come without him, that you can’t make yourself feel good unless he’s right there with you, helping you along.

He just wants to feel needed and wanted, and if you were to actually wake him up and demand that he fuck you because the ache is just too great, the mixture of pride, arousal, and satisfaction would have him immediately nodding, hurriedly grabbing your hips, pulling out his already half-hard cock, slipping inside you and letting out something between a gasp and a grunt.

He wants to be of service, and he likes that this fantasy implies that your desperation for him is nearly as high as his own – as if you truly, genuinely love him back.

Phinks’ snores fill the bedroom, and for a moment you feel bad about reaching out, your fingertips brushing along his bicep. Your thighs rub together, the friction not nearly enough to quell the throbbing coming from between your legs.

You had no idea what was wrong with you – you’d never been this unbearably horny before, as if your every thought was revolving around being filled with something much bigger than your own fingers, something heavier and thicker and fatter. Your nipples were pebbled, thighs twitching, forehead already a bit sweaty and your clit unbearably sensitive, and yet you hadn’t been able to come. You’d been trying for what felt like hours, using a nimble finger to circle over your clit tirelessly, drawing figure eights and making your hips jerk but never getting closer to that wonderful high you were craving. You’d stuffed yourself full of your own fingers, curling and thrusting and doing everything in your power to get off, but it just wasn’t working.

Phinks stirs lightly at the feeling of your hand brushing against his chest, but it’s not until you dance your palm down to slip beneath the hem of his boxers that he truly starts waking up. You’re quick to grip him at the base, sliding up and down slowly, gently, nervously, because while he’s told you more than once that his body is yours to use whenever you need it – his hadn’t been able to meet your gaze when he’d told you this, with his cheeks flushed and his arms crossed in an attempt to appear confident – you’re still a bit hesitant to act upon that promise.

His dirty blond hairs tickle your hand as you swipe your thumb across his tip, smearing the precum along his head as you shuffle closer, letting your lips ghost over his jaw, pressing against the light stubble. He groans slightly in his sleep, already in that halfway stage between dreaming and reality, but when you press your lips to his own, tongue swiping out across his bottom lip and your kisses becoming a bit more insistent, his eyes are fluttering open.

He says something, but it’s muffled into your mouth as your kissing suddenly grows in intensity, your hand squeezing tighter and your body moving to be more above his. The ache between your legs is stronger now, a dull throbbing that makes you delirious with need because his cock is already in your hand, already pulsing and twitching and surely bright red with a need matching your own.

When you finally pull away for air, Phinks can only peel open his freshly closed eyes and stare at you, a light flush on his cheeks and his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Babe? What’s gotten into – shit, that feels good.”

He cuts himself off with a hiss, your hand starting to move between stroking him and squeezing at his balls.

“Need you, Phinks,” You start, pressing kisses along the nape of his neck and lightly sucking at the skin. The feeling makes a shiver run down his spine, the idea of you marking him up making his cock grow ever harder for you. “’m so empty, it’s not enough when it’s just me.”

He swallows hard. Biting his lip, he tries to ignore the way your hand – all soft and sweet and clammy, slicked up with his own precum and making it incredibly easy to glide your hand up and down his shaft – is making his hips buck up involuntarily, his still sleepy state making him more sensitive than usual. “Yeah? You need me? Tell me what you need, baby.”

You whine a bit, embarrassment eating you up, but the words are uttered out before you can really think about, your body driven by an arousal you can’t hope to fight. “I need you. I need your cock, it’s the only thing that can make me feel good, my fingers don’t feel like you do. Please Phinks, fuck me, please…”

He groans at that, hands grabbing at your hips and manhandling you so that you’re splayed out on your back, chest heaving as you watch him clamber over you, his boxers discarded somewhere into the sheets. He’s painfully hard, already swollen and drooping slightly from the weight of it as he lines his tip up with your entrance. He takes a moment to tease you, awe tinging his voice as he asks, “Here babe? Right here?”

Your ankles lock together around his waist, hands coming up to grasp onto the strong muscles of his back. “Please, please!”

He likes the sound of you begging, the sight of you biting your lip and staring up at him with wide, glassy eyes practically drowning in need. But most of all, he likes the way you lift your hips up to rub your cunt against his cock, little airy moans slipping past your lips because god, even just the feel of him is better than anything you’ve managed to do to yourself so far tonight.

Phinks curses, and immediately he’s plunging into you, tip ramming into that spot he knows you love – the one that makes you gasp and clutch onto him, your hips jerking and twitching while your breasts bounce with his every thrust.

He buries his face into your neck, groaning and muttering your name under his breath, but he tries to quiet down as he hears you starting to talk again. More like blabbering, but your words make his eyes go wide.

“I’ve been – oh, ‘ve been fucking myself with my fingers, but Phinks, oh god Phinks, it wasn’t enough!” Your voice is strained, warbled, moans mixing between your words and making him gulp. The clapping sound of his hips smacking into yours is deafening, but he wants you to keep going, to keep talking to him like this.

“Nothing feels as good – shit, as good as you do. You’re so good, it’s so – so big and makes me feel so fucking full –“ You cut yourself off with a moan, eyes fluttering closed as he brushes against every sensitive spot inside you over and over, your orgasm already steadily building.

Phinks bares his teeth, face still pressed against the nape of your neck. “F-fuck, keep talking baby.”

“Couldn’t make myself feel as good as you.” You cry.

“Nothing’s as good as you.” You moan.

“Couldn’t wait – fuck! Couldn’t wait, needed you inside, you feel so much better!” You gasp.

“Phinks, oh Phinks Phinks Phinks – couldn’t come without you, only you can make me come!” You squeal, and at your words he freezes for a moment, letting them sink in. You whine, hips wiggling and begging for him to keep moving, but something about your phrasing makes something feral ignite within him. Something about the idea that only he is capable of making you feel good, that only he can make you orgasm (not even yourself) gets him feeling possessive of you, the cunt wrapped around his cock belonging to him and him only.

He’s snapping his hips into you with a new fervor after that, the pace brutal as he fucks into you hard enough to make you bounce up and down the bed, your pretty tits bouncing along with you and rubbing against his chest. He’s chanting your name like a prayer, his voice husky and strained and still the tiniest bit raspy from sleep, and it only makes you clutch onto him tighter, harder, your walls clenching around him like a fucking vice –

You come with a cry of his name, fluttering around him and making his hips stutter. The only warning you get before floods of warm, thick cum shoot inside you is a gaspy, almost pained sounding ‘fuck, t-take it take it-!’

He’s panting, still keeping his head in the crook of your shoulder, too embarrassed to look at you. You’re still breathing hard too, and when you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him closer, Phinks feels himself freeze up a bit.

“Stay like this?” You ask, and your voice is so soft and unsure that it makes his heart ache, his body immediately relaxing and letting his arms slip under your body, pulling you both onto your sides so that you’re embracing one another.

“Of course, baby. Now go to sleep.” He whispers, pressing a long kiss against the crown of your head.

You obey, falling asleep almost immediately, and as Phinks drifts off himself, cock still nestled inside you, he can’t help smiling a bit, the corners of his lips turning up.

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere phinks #yandere phinks magcub #hxh smut #_lee's profiles #_hxh #_phinks magcub

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sk3tch404 · 1 year

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The pookies are here!!! Omg Nobunaga :3

My hxh fixation is slowly coming back to me 😨

If you saw the old caption no you didn't

#yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere nobunaga #yandere chrollo #yandere phinks #yandere fetain #yandere hxh x reader #yandere hunter x hunter x reader #yandere phantom troupe #yandere art #yandere drawing #art #drawing #my doodle baboodles

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skyyletai · 13 days

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I'm truly disappointed that no one on tik tok appreciates them. I mean, WHERE ARE MY EDITS, LEBOWSKI???!

#hxh #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #hxh nobunaga #hxh uvogin #hxh phinks #phinks magcub #yandere uvogin #yandere nobunaga #yandere phinks #nobunaga hazama

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uvobreakmylegs · 1 year

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Bystander

💕Happy (Belated) Valentines Day💕 (again lol)

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, murder, death, gore, blood, stalking

Word count: 6.1k

The sound of the woman's neck snapping echoed out into the night air, and she let out one final gasp as she fell to the pavement, the broken bone jutting out of her neck unnaturally.

“No! Kim! Goddammit no!!”

Phinks turned away from the woman's body in order to face the man screaming at the other side of the lot.

Tears were falling down the man's face, but he froze when he saw Phinks' attention turned to him – he was the last one standing. Everyone else from the group that had tried to jump Phinks was now dead, reduced to lifeless bodies scattered in different areas of the lot.

Despite being confronted with the fact that the people he'd teamed up with had died, it didn't push the man to try and attack Phinks for the sake of avenging his fallen comrades – in fact, it did the opposite.

The man turned around and began to run.

That was more than a little pathetic, Phinks thought to himself, although he could understand that reaction at least somewhat.

That guy and the others had been completely unprepared when they'd made the attempt on his life, their skills nowhere near being able to even scratch him. It was just another instance of sub-par nen users who'd learned nen in the fastest way possible and spent little to no time in trying to develop a worthwhile ability because they were too eager to try and get revenge on the troupe. It was something he and all of the others were used to by now.

Annoying, but at least it was easy enough to take care of. And with this guy, he could do so without too much effort.

Phinks leaned down, picking up a small bit of rubble that had come from the aging parking lot while the man continued to run. He infused the small stone with a bit of nen, and as the man turned to continue his escape past a building, Phinks threw it in the man's direction.

It punctured through his neck and tore through the throat muscles before it came out on the other side.

The man immediately fell to the pavement, gasping as he rolled over onto his back while he clutched at his neck, his fingers quickly becoming stained with red as he tried to prevent the blood that came gushing out of the wounds. If he was a bit more competent and a bit less panicked, he likely wouldn't have had any trouble dealing with that wound. But after what he'd seen happen to his companions, he had lost his composure in record time and wasn't able to think rationally.

As he looked at the man and the amount of blood that was slowly spreading out over the ground, it didn't feel necessary to walk over and finish the job. While Phinks didn't tend to be one to prolong the deaths of his victims, with the way things were going, the guy would be dead within a few minutes. No need to spend the extra effort when the outcome was already clear.

So he began to walk away from the scene, keeping an eye on his surroundings. There was an off-chance that there were still one or two from the group that were hiding, waiting for Phinks to lower his guard and strike when he felt it was safe. That had happened at least once with him, and a few different times with some of the others: blacklist Hunters, ones who actually knew what they were doing, would con those who had just learned nen into being bait for the troupe, and after they had been finished off, the Hunter would swoop in and try to kill off that troupe member.

And people said the Phantom Troupe were the bad ones.

Phinks had allowed himself to get a little distracted after he'd determined that there was no one else hiding in the darkness, and as he made it to the other edge of the lot, he noted the storm clouds that were in the sky. A bad storm was coming, it seemed.

“Oh my god!”

He'd been just close enough to hear those words being exclaimed.

Back in the direction where he'd had left the man.

Phinks looked back, and while he couldn't see everything from where he was standing, there was definitely someone now leaning over the man with the neck wound.

“Are you alive?!” he heard the new person say.

The next bit wasn't as audible, but Phinks was able to make out what sounded like someone gurgling in response.

So the guy was still alive.

Phinks sighed.

He could probably leave it. There was a good chance that the guy would bleed out before help could arrive. But there was a slim chance that he could survive his injuries. If that happened, it'd become a bigger mess that Phinks wouldn't want to deal with; leaving the would-be avengers alive tended to only make them come back stronger and a bit more cunning.

With another sigh, Phinks turned around and began to head back to the scene he had just left. This is what you get for not finishing him off, he said to himself. And he knew a few of the other members of the troupe would have criticized him for leaving the man in the way he did.

So much for not spending extra effort.

Staying in the shadows, Phinks took his hands out of his pockets and cracked his knuckles as he got closer to the man and the new person hovering over him.

You were kneeling down next to him, already looking overwhelmed by the sight of the man on the ground in a pool of his own blood.

“Why would someone do this?” you asked aloud, your voice wavering somewhat. It didn't seem like you were actually asking the man on the ground next to you, more like you were asking yourself.

You didn't appear to be anything other than an ordinary civilian, and Phinks doubted this group would've involved someone like that in their plot to kill him. So you were completely unrelated to the guy and the group who'd jumped him and just happened to be in the wrong place when you caught sight of him.

“Hang on, I'm gonna – gonna stop the bleeding,” you said to the man as you removed your hoodie. You pressed the fabric against the wounds in his neck while you tried not to hyperventilate, breathing out through your mouth as you did your best to keep yourself calm.

“I need you to hold it for a second, o-okay? So I can get my phone....”

You trailed off as you grabbed at your bag with one hand while still holding the hoodie to his neck with another. However, the man wasn't listening to you. He had his eyes fixed on Phinks, who was still standing in the darkness.

With the damage to his throat, the man wasn't able to say much and had been limited to grunts and moans. And instead of holding the hoodie like you'd told him to, Phinks watched as the man grabbed at your arm, getting bloody hand prints all over your skin as he tried to get your attention, tried to point out the murderer who was watching you fish your phone out of your bag.

Phinks needed to kill you before you were able to call anyone. And with how defenseless and unaware you were, that wouldn't be an issue.

The man sensed it when Phinks' aura flared with the intent of killing you, and he pulled at your sleeve again while he tried to get your attention.

The guy hadn't been able to run from him; did he really think that you'd be able to get away? Did he really think that Phinks would allow you to get away once you saw his face?

You paused in your search for your phone to look back down at the man. His arm then began to move, fingers straining as he tried to point over at Phinks.

Phinks already saw the way this would play out: you would look over to where the man was pointing, see him, and in the split second you had to realize that you were looking at a murderer, Phinks would rush forward and snap your neck like he'd done with the woman minutes prior. The man who lay next to you would follow shortly after, and then all the loose ends of this annoying night would be tied up.

That was how it was supposed to go.

But then you did something that surprised him.

Instead of looking behind you, you reached out and grabbed the man's hand.

“You're not gonna die, okay? I'm going to call for help, and someone'll come here who can fix you up. You're gonna be okay. I promise.”

There were tears pricking your eyes as you said that, though you were desperately trying to keep your composure as the situation was still stressing you out of your mind. But even then, you tried to reassure the man by smiling at him.

“You need to help me, though,” you said, “you-you're losing too much blood, you'll die if you lose anymore. So you need to press this against your neck. Put pressure on to stop the bleeding.”

With that, you took his hand and pushed it against your hoodie, trying to get him to help in applying the correct amount of pressure.

“Please. I don't want you to die.”

Your words seemed to have had some affect on the man, because after that he did as you said and pushed on the sides of his neck. Unbeknownst to you, the man finally realized that he needed to use his nen to keep himself from bleeding out.

You seemed to find the way he held at his throat encouraging, and you reached again for your bag with some reassurance that the man wasn't going to immediately bleed out without you.

But as you finally pulled out your phone and began to dial emergency services, you gave the man your name and then asked if he was able to speak. The man shook his head as best he could.

“That's okay,” you said, “you can tell me later.”

You hit the call button while the man looked back to Phinks. His eyebrows furrowed and he seemed confused as to why the spider had yet to attack you.

The weird thing was that Phinks didn't really know either.

There was literally no reason for him to stand there doing nothing while you continued as you were, calling for help and bringing in more potential witnesses.

Yet Phinks had been caught off-guard by the things you'd said to the man. Why that was, he wasn't completely sure, but for now, at least, he found himself wanting to wait and see what else you'd do.

Meanwhile, you'd managed to connect to someone.

“Please, I need an ambulance,” you told the operator, “I found a man – I think he got shot. I-in the neck. I'm trying to stop the bleeding but I don't know how long he'll last.”

You tapped on the screen to turn on the phone's speaker before you put your hands back on the sides of the man's neck, pressing the hoodie that was now thoroughly soaked with blood as you gave your location to the operator so they knew where to send the ambulance.

After that, you were talking to him again, the operator still on the other end of the line while you were trying to keep the man awake by speaking to him, a whole bunch of meaningless information spilling from your mouth. The area where you lived, what you did for a living, stupid facts about your life, and you even bothered to mention some upcoming video game that you were excited for, telling him that once he got better that he needed to tell you about himself and if he also liked video games.

In between all of that, you kept repeating that it would be okay.

After a certain point, Phinks had to wonder if you were saying that to reassure yourself.

It wasn't long after that the storm clouds hanging over your heads all this time decided to make their move, a drizzle of rain beginning to fall. You clearly realized that the water would be bad for the open wounds on the man's neck, and so you told him to press down on the hoodie again while you looked for an area where he'd be dry. You decided to move him by grabbing his ankles and pulling him to an area with a cover, all the while apologizing again and again in the event that you managed to hurt him while you did that.

How long was he going to let this go on for? Humor your attempts at keeping this guy alive before he stepped in and put an end to it?

Currently you still had your hands around the man's throat, keeping the pressure on his neck while the chill that the rain brought caused you to shiver. There was still no sign of any ambulance coming, though Phinks could still hear the operator assuring you that it was on its way.

Phinks noticed when the man turned his head back in his direction, staring at him once more. And that time, you noticed as you turned your head to follow his gaze.

The instant he saw your head begin to move Phinks got out of the way, finding cover fast so you wouldn't see him.

At first all he could hear was the sound of the rain falling to the pavement.

“Oh god.”

Your voice was trembling when you said that. You now saw the other bodies in the lot and it hit you that you were in a lot more danger than you had initially thought, if you'd even been thinking about your own safety at all before.

Phinks could hear the voice of the operator coming from your phone as they asked what was wrong.

“There's.... There's others. In the parking lot. On the ground,” you said, “I don't.... I don't see anyone moving. I-I'm too scared to go check over there.”

“You don't need to go over. Just stay where you are,” the operator told you, “do you see anyone other than the ones on the ground?”

“No.....”

“Then just keep doing what you're doing. Help will be there soon.”

“Right... Right. It'll be okay.”

Phinks peered out from behind his cover and found that your attention was on the man again. You were still talking to him, still repeating over and over that everything would be okay, and when sirens began to sound in the distance, you pointed it out to him and told him that help would be there in no time.

The cheerful demeanor you were trying to keep up for his sake was a lot more forced now. Phinks had to wonder what exactly had been going through your head when you first saw the man – you didn't think to check your surroundings at all? You just saw someone who was dying and didn't think anything beyond getting him help? That was beyond stupid, especially when you believed that the man had been shot.

The growing sounds of the sirens indicated that they were getting closer, proving you right that they'd be here soon. Phinks needed to decide on what he was going to do.

By now it was impossible to keep anyone else from getting involved – him standing around and doing nothing while you called for help had seen to that. Even if he killed the two of you right now, you and the rest would be discovered shortly. Not that big of a deal for him, as he was certain he could disappear while emergency services were still processing the scene.

But he didn't really feel like killing you for some reason.

And since you weren't leaving your spot while you helped that guy cling to life, killing him without you seeing would be difficult. But even if he was willing to let you live, he couldn't leave that guy alive.

When the flashing lights of the ambulance could be seen in the distance, a new thought occurred to him, and it was then that Phinks made the decision to leave. Once again keeping to the shadows within the lot, he intended on leaving the crime scene before doubling back.

He glanced back at you one more time while he could still see you. You were still reassuring the guy while you slowly began to relax just a little, confident that he'd be saved and that you'd been able to help him.

There was literally no reason not to kill you. Not only that, Phinks was aware that by his feet were a few more bits of rubble. He could easily do to you what he'd done to the guy, and this time make sure he killed his target by aiming at your head.

Why he still chose not to kill you, he had no clue.

Phinks found himself watching you a lot after.

Days had passed since that night and no one else came after him. It was unlikely that there'd be any connection made between him and the crime scene left behind, and there had only been one person who had seen his face in that lot. That loose end was now tied up, so he didn't have any other reason to stay in the area.

But Phinks still wasn't sure what to do with you.

Technically he didn't have to do anything; you hadn't seen him, and the man hadn't communicated anything to you, so you knew nothing about Phinks or the troupe. He could just leave you alone, forget about you completely and that would be the end of it.

But just like he'd been when he had stood by and let you call emergency services, he had no clue what was driving him to keep an eye you in the following days. No idea why he bothered to track down where you lived and watch what he could through your windows.

And he didn't know why that one moment kept replaying in his head – where you had grabbed at that man's hand and smiled as you tried to reassure him, promising him that he wouldn't die and trying to give him the motivation to keep fighting and live.

He thought about it a lot until he got to the point that he found he didn't want to think anymore about why he was watching you so closely, and just chose to watch you as if that was what he'd always done.

The days after the incident you spent most of your time hiding in your apartment, and on occasion you would pull away at the closed blinds just a little bit to glance at the outside. Only for a few seconds before you would quickly pull away.

You seemed pretty jumpy.

The theory that was starting to go around was that the group had died due to gang activity – if that was what the police ended up deciding on, that was probably why you were so nervous. You likely feared that you'd gotten involved with something you shouldn't have, and now there were dangerous people that would be after your life. And if you knew how Phinks had followed that man to his hospital room and broke his IV before jamming the two pieces through his skull, you'd have good reason to believe that your life would come to a grisly end.

You must've heard what had happened to the guy you'd tried to save – it'd been pretty big news over the past few days, a parking lot full of murder victims and the one survivor of the initial attack being found dead in after. People were at a loss as to why exactly the group from the “Back Lot Slaughter” had died and why the survivor had been hunted down.

Your name hadn't been released in any news reports, it looked like. Likely out of fear that it would make you a target.

After a little bit longer you left your apartment for a short period of time to get groceries, and the entire time you glanced over your shoulder while trying hard to act like you weren't. And when you were on your way back from shopping and found that the area around you appeared to be empty, you not so subtly reached into your bag so you could close your fist around your keys, ready to use them as a weapon if case anyone attacked you.

If you were that worried for your life then why stay here? Didn't you have friends or family who lived out of town that you could stay with?

Apparently not, as you stayed where you were, eventually leaving your apartment more frequently when you went back to work. Evidently you felt it was safe enough that you could head back out more often.

He needed to move on, however.

Phinks had only been in the city because he'd been heading back home after a job, and he'd never been intending on staying as long as he did; just one night at most. Really, he should've been trying to figure out if that group had known he would be there or if it was just random chance that they'd come across him. Not wasting his time watching someone like you.

He needed to figure out what it was that he wanted from you and then be done with it. Either by doing what he should've done that night, or.....

…..

Or what?

That was still unclear – what exactly he wanted from all of this. And once more he that he didn't feel like thinking about it too much.

Still, he wasn't going to continue like this indefinitely. So it needed to end soon.

He felt like he was about to reach that point one late afternoon a couple weeks after. He wasn't getting anything out of watching you hide away in your apartment, and it would be best to head back home and forget about the whole thing.

He was just about to head off when he noticed something.

You'd gone out for work and did a bit of shopping before coming back today. Another quick trip where you grabbed essentials while looking over your shoulder. So he found it odd when he saw you exiting your apartment again, hurriedly locking up the door before you turned away and headed back in the direction of the store you'd gone to earlier.

You must've forgotten something. And it must've been pretty important for you to go get while you felt that your life was in danger.

As usual, Phinks followed from a distance, close enough to keep an eye on you but not so close that you'd notice him.

At the end of your short but tense walk was the store you'd gone to earlier, and Phinks hung back, not feeling much need to follow you inside. If it was just one or two items that you were running inside to grab, it'd look weird if he went in and then back outside so shortly after you.

Apparently the thing that was important enough to make you go back outside was body wash, as you came out of the store with a bottle of the stuff in hand. Your pace was still somewhat hurried, and as you began to approach the stairs at the side of the store that lead down to a sidewalk, he got out of the way before you could spot him, heading down the stairs himself.

There was an automatic thought that he needed to get to a place where you wouldn't see him so he could follow you back, and he began to do that before he stopped. He knew he needed to stop this; following you back to your apartment would be doing the exact opposite of that. It was time to leave and not bother with you anymore.

Or maybe he could stay where he was so you would need to get close as you walked by. The entire time since he'd first seen you, you'd been at a distance. Maybe if he saw you up close and saw just how much of a stressed-out wreck you'd become in detail, the sight would annoy him enough that he'd be able to forget the way you'd been with the guy he killed. Maybe that had been the solution the whole time.

So Phinks stayed, standing against the wall at the bottom of the stairs while waiting for you to come down. You were at the top of the stairway not long after, and as you began to descend, he noticed the way your eyes glanced over at him before you looked to the path in front of you.

Not the reaction of someone who recognized a person who'd been at a crime scene, so at least that confirmed that you hadn't seen him that night. At least there was that.

What exactly had caused what happened next, he didn't know. It looked like something had distracted you, and you turned your head over your shoulder right as you were descending the stairs.

Phinks wasn't sure if you'd misjudged the steps or if it was something else, but you managed to lose your footing and began to fall face-first down the stairway.

The stairway wasn't a long one, but you'd bang yourself up falling from that height, maybe break a few bones.

It was lucky that he happened to be right there to catch you.

Though it was more like he broke your fall as you landed against him, face-planting into his chest.

But he grabbed you by your arms after to make sure you didn't go anywhere.

You pulled back slightly when you regained your footing and stared at him for a few moments. And when you finally processed what had just happened, a look of mortification formed on your face.

“Oh my god – I'm sorry,” you began, “thanks for catching me. Sorry that happened.”

“It's okay,” said Phinks, “didn't want to see you get hurt.”

“Thanks. Still, I'm sorry.”

You'd averted your eyes, clearly embarrassed.

And he still had his hands on you.

“What caused that?” Phinks asked.

“Nothing. Just me being stupid. Sorry,” you answered.

Then you looked at one of the hands on your arm, and then added “sorry, you don't need to hold me anymore. I'm good now.”

He let go of you, albeit reluctantly.

You side-stepped him almost immediately, giving him a weak smile as you said “thank you again.”

Then you began to continue down the stairs as you'd been before you tripped.

“Leaving already?” Phinks asked, an brow raised.

“Ah, yeah. Sorry.”

How many times were you going to apologize?

“I'm... I'm late for something,” you added.

“... Okay. Sorry to hold you up, then,” he said.

“You're fine. Thank you again.”

With that, you continued down the stairs, heading away from him and back to the safety of your apartment.

You glanced back at him a few times as you did, a small worry growing in you every time you found that he was still staring at you. After a certain point, you didn't look back anymore, but your pace did quicken shortly after that.

After you turned a corner, you were out of sight.

It was time to go for him as well.

… Except for whatever reason, Phinks found himself going back in the direction of your apartment.

The blinds were drawn shut when he got back, and no doubt you'd done your routine of locking and bolting the front door. You might recognize him if you peeked out through your blinds again, so it'd be best to make sure you didn't manage to spot him.

As the sun set and day turned into night, he saw that the lights inside your apartment were still on. And they stayed on when the normal time for you to go to sleep came and went.

You couldn't still be awake, could you?

With no one else in the area seeming to be active, Phinks approached your front door. While he probably wouldn't be able to figure out exactly what you might be doing, he'd probably be able to tell if you were asleep or not.

When he stood in front of it and quietly listened, he heard something coming from your apartment.

The sound of running water.

…. Phinks felt it was a weird time to get a shower.

….

If he went in there now you wouldn't be able to react immediately.

Why that thought crossed his mind he had no clue, but the instant it did Phinks was heading back down the stairs of your apartment and making his way towards the side of the building. Right under the balcony attached to your unit. Going in through the front door would make too much noise and alert your neighbors, so going in through an entrance where the obstacles in his way would be minimal was more ideal. So he climbed up.

A metal latch on the inside of the sliding door of your balcony was all that stood in his way, and he broke it easily when he forced the door open. There was a bit of noise when he wrenched the metal apart, and he waited a moment to see if any of your neighbors would step outside to investigate. But no one came, so Phinks stepped inside and slid the glass door shut behind him. It wouldn't lock now, but that didn't really matter.

You were supposed to be taking a shower, but after taking a few steps into your apartment, he noted that he didn't hear any water running. Instead, he heard different noises coming from the bathroom; what seemed to be the sound of your feet hurrying across the tiled floor.

He reached the small hallway right as you flung open the bathroom door and stepped out with only a towel wrapped around you.

Your eyes landed on him immediately and you froze.

Terror quickly took over your features as you stared at him, an intruder in your apartment who had come in when you had least expected it and were completely unprepared.

There was also recognition in your gaze; it was only a few hours ago that you'd seen him, so that wasn't too surprising.

A period passed where neither of you said anything.

And then-

“Hey-” Phinks began.

That single word forced you out of your shock as you bolted for the kitchen.

He followed.

You were trying to get at a knife block, your finger brushing against the hilt of the biggest one when he grabbed you around the waist and pulled you away from it.

You shrieked when he touched you, but the noise didn't last long as he clamped one of his hands over your mouth, muffling your screams as you tried to cry out for help.

The two of you ended up on the floor of your kitchen, his one arm wrapped around both of yours and keeping their movements limited while his other hand stayed on your mouth. You were trying to grab at him as best you could while you kicked your legs out in an attempt to escape his grip. All while you cried into his hand, the tears beginning to run down your face.

Phinks kept holding you, knowing that eventually you'd run out of steam.

And after a few minutes like that, you did. Now you were still, shaking in his grip while you continued to sob into his hand.

It was the second time he'd had his arms around you, he noted. Odd how the first two times you had physical contact with each other you ended up being held against him in some way. Odd, but he didn't mind it.

He noticed when you began to move again, trying to wiggle one of your arms out of his grip. The reason for that turned out to be in an effort to adjust the towel you were wearing. During the time when you were struggling, it had become loose and fallen open. Now that you weren't in as much of a panic, you were clearly feeling embarrassed and wanted to cover yourself.

Phinks decided to take a chance and took his hand off your mouth, and while you let out a shaky breath after, there were no more attempts to scream on your part. He hummed as he adjusted the towel so you were covered again, happy that you weren't being difficult. At least for now.

Once that was done, he wrapped that other arm around you, making you continue to sit like that with him. The drops of water that had remained on your hair and skin were soaking into the material of his tracksuit, but he took more note of what he smelled when he breathed in. A nice scent on your skin – that body wash you'd bought earlier.

As much as he wanted to say that he liked it, it'd probably be a weird thing to mention that he thought you smelled nice, at least in this situation.

He refocused when he saw you glance over your shoulder, still trembling as you looked at him. You probably wanted to know what was going to happen to you, but you didn't seem willing to say anything.

Since you wouldn't speak, he went first.

“I was being nice to you earlier and you blew me off,” said Phinks.

A sob was still coming out with every other breath, but you managed to pull yourself together enough to begin to form a response.

“I-I-I'm s-sor-”

“Don't say that you're sorry again. I heard enough of that earlier.”

You quickly clamped your mouth shut while he continued.

“Do you know why I'm here?” he asked.

You didn't say anything at first, seeming hesitant to answer.

Phinks huffed.

“You wouldn't stop talking when you found that guy in the lot; now you're barely speaking even when I want you to.”

That statement of his seemed to confirm some things in your head.

“Why did you try so hard for that guy, anyway?” Phinks then asked.

When you didn't answer that time, he chose to ignore that and continued with “what I don't get is how long it took you to realize that you were in a dangerous situation. You thought that the guy had been shot and didn't think that there'd be repercussions for trying to help him?”

“You... You heard that?” you asked.

“You weren't being very quiet; anyone could've heard you.”

“..... You killed those people?” you whispered.

“That's a stupid question, don't you think?”

“... Are you going to kill me?”

In response to that, Phinks finally loosened his grip so he could turn you and have you face him. Your hands immediately went to clutch at your towel and you looked terrified and confused.

Phinks still remembered how you'd been with that guy. How you'd begged him to help you help him, how you'd smiled at him as you told him that he'd make it, how easily you opened yourself up to a dying man and tried to make him promise that the two of you would talk again once he recovered from his injuries.

How you gripped his hand in an attempt to comfort him.

That thought had Phinks reaching over and grabbing one of the hands you had clutched against yourself. You let out a soft yelp as he pulled it away from you while he focused on how soft your hand felt in his.

Why had such an action stayed with him?

…..

He once again decided that he didn't want to think about it.

“I won't kill you,” he said, realizing that he hadn't answered your question.

“Why?” you asked.

Instead of answering, Phinks pulled you in closer, ignoring the way you began to panic when you saw how close his face was getting to yours. You were trying to escape the hold he had on you again, and when that didn't work, you pressed your free hand against his chest to try and keep him away from you.

He grabbed that hand as well.

When Phinks pressed his lips against yours, you whimpered.

He ignored it, far too taken by the thought of how nice it felt to have you like this.

Without anything to hold it up, the towel ended up falling off of you completely, and once again you let out a sad noise against his lips.

Phinks didn't do anything that time.

That was your own fault.

#reader insert #phinks x reader #yandere phinks #yandere #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #hxh phinks #phinks #phinks magcub

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meyousing · 1 year

Text

𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴, 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘏𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘺

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵: yandere phinks + prompt 3 "the sooner you realize that this is for your own good, the easier this will be.”

𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴: phinks liked it when you were complicit; when you listened and stayed by his side. you enjoyed freedom, you hated having to adapt to a submissive persona just to please him and keep his temper at bay. you could only continue such an act for so long before your itch to be freed became too much to bear.

𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴: sfw, yandere phinks, possessive behaviour, minor violence, isolation, mentions of past kidnapping. kinda mind games if u squint bc of the isolation?

One thing you learned very quickly when dealing with Phinks, was to walk on eggshells around him, so as to not ignite the short wick that was his temper. Time and time again, other members of the troupe would sing your praises, questioning how you managed to tame a beast such as Phinks to be so different towards you, in comparison to anyone else past who had gotten as close to him as you have now. That would incite your own need for interrogation, completely unsure of what they meant since half of the time that you were in his presence you would shake like a leaf, in a mode of constant fight or flight (though you knew any fight would be an immediate loss for you, and the mere idea of flight was laughably out of the question). Of course, your questioning couldn’t get too far. Any time another Spider got too close to you, Phinks would appear out of nowhere, shooting them a glare that spoke for itself; telling them to get lost, to leave you alone. His standard of closeness was incredibly strict, as your interactions with the others never lasted longer than a minute before greatly aggravating him. What divine timing Phinks always managed to have. These incidents happened almost every day, the severity of them never escalating to become too intense, since nobody dared to step up to him and cause a scene from a matter as trivial as asking his girl a question.

As it would turn out, when more of these happenings occurred, and the angry look on his face escalated every day, Phinks was too late to realize that the other members would not be the problem in this situation. And maybe you should have seen this coming too, you would have been able to save yourself a lot of trouble that you really did know better about.

By the nature of the Spiders, Phinks was possessive. But you never liked being caged down. The day that you arrived here, bound and blinded by your boyfriend (you would only refer to him as such when in his presence, to appease him. But you had long since broken up with him in your mind), was the day that you were made equivalent to a childhood pet. A bird, or a hamster, who is restricted to only make decisions that are conducted or enforced by her captor. This restriction began to change you. All prey put up fights to regain their freedom whether they come out victorious or not; one must try.

“Y/N? Y/N Y/N? God, did the guy deafen her or something, the fuck?”

You blinked a few times, clearing your sight and mind. Glancing up with a soft blur in your vision, you could see the bouncing of broad shoulders, watching Uvogin laugh boisterously at you as he brought his hand down to a knee once he was done snapping those fingers beside your ear.

Now, this was tricky. Perhaps you should correct your earlier ideology, most members wouldn’t dare to step up to Phinks and cause a scene from a matter as trivial as asking his girl a question. Most members, not including Uvo. He enjoyed the little conflict it would create, and if something did happen (which it likely would), this would not be the first time. You wondered if Phinks was dumb enough not to know that Uvo was talking to you on purpose, to get a rise out of him. Perhaps he did know and enjoyed that fight just as much. How lovely that they get amusement at my expense, you thought.

“Y/N, You can’t be serious. You know I’m talking to you.” Uvo’s face was falsely dumbfounded, a brow lifted with the most mocking smile across his lips.

“I do, I know” you mumbled, voice groggy from being unused for so long, causing you to clear out your throat with a cough. Uvo let out a gruff chuckle, glancing behind his shoulder to Nobunaga with a mischievous glint in his eyes. You followed his gaze, watching as Nobu only offered a brooding blink while he fiddled with the handle of his katana. He was observing you two, appearing tired but you knew he was getting a kick out of this too. When Uvo turned back to you, your eyes were already on his, open wider than before and eager because you just wanted this to end as soon as possible. Because you knew Phinks would be back soon, and he would see this, then the same old dispute would break out and only bring you stress, making you think that you had done something wrong despite just sitting here.

“You do know. So can you repeat what I just asked you?” Uvo’s interrogation continued, a playfully contemplative hand becoming a perch for his chin.

Being aware of him talking to you didn’t mean that you had been listening to what he was saying.

“I can’t, sorry” you sniffed, stifling a yawn. Your conversations with him went the same way every time; him asking you rhetorical questions that you couldn’t muster the energy to give a genuine reply to, which he was fully aware of. It seemed that he wanted it like this, not minding your lack of liveliness at all.

Before any other words could be exchanged, a new voice interjected.

“Are you really that stupid, Uvo?”

Yaaay. Phinks was back, and so soon!

“Oh no, the boyfriend is back” Uvo stood up, a theatrical hand over his heart as he spun around and leaned away from Phinks, pretending to physically be taken aback.

“You can call me by my name, Uvogin.”

“You tryna tell me what to do?” Despite the challenging tone, even you could tell that Uvo wasn’t being serious.

“Yea, I’ll start by telling you to stay away from Y/N. Again. How many times is that now, maybe five?”

Uvogin laughed again, louder than the time before, and more hysterically. You sighed and rubbed your temples, entirely done with these feuds.

“Come on now, Phinks–”

“Just stop!”

Everyone was silent then. You didn’t even notice that you were standing now, hands in tight fists at your sides following the brief outburst. All of them had their eyes on you now, you could feel it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look up, to face the results of such a sudden action when you were usually so docile. How you wished to rant further, to scream out your feelings about how much you hated this. Hated being here, hated these stupid scenarios every day that made it feel like you were just part of some big inside joke and served no other purpose. But you didn’t say any of that, you just stayed cemented and kept your eyes down. It felt like hours of this passed, hours of silence and stillness.

Your ears perked up at the sound of footsteps, watching a familiar set of shoes come to a stop just in front of you. Phinks reached for your hands, taking them into his own.

“Let’s go.”

He began guiding you out of the room, to the hall. You followed wordlessly, watching your feet as they carried you along with him, ignoring the muffled but definite chuckle that you heard and must have come from Uvo, your grip in Phinks’ hand tightening at the sound.

Once you two were a fair distance from the others, Phinks continued to walk but let go of you and sighed exasperatedly, running his hands through his hair to push it up and away from his face as he grumbled.

“I told them all so many times to stop bothering you, but nobody listens to me, and then this happens. The day that Uvo does listen, I swear…” he didn’t finish the ramble, he only shook his head and sighed; acting all fatigued and dramatically exhausted from dealing with Uvo, like a worn-out parent who finally managed to put their unruly baby to sleep once and for all. You, at the very least, had the right to feel that way as you rubbed at one of your eyelids. All Phinks did to be so tired was willingly partake in an argument that he could have chosen to avoid, whereas you had no choice but to get caught in the middle of it. If only he could tell that he was the one who was bothering you.

You didn’t know what came over you then, the overwhelming urge to make that clear to him. Or rather, to correct him first, because if either of those two men caused you any annoyance, it certainly wasn’t Uvogin.

“He wasn’t the one who was bothering me. He was just asking me a question.”

“Please, Y/N.” Instant dismissal. This was your first chance to back down.

“What?”

“You know better, he was trying to get under your skin. And mine, for that matter.”

“No, he wasn’t. He was just asking me a question.” You repeated yourself. For once Phinks was right, but this annoyed you. He confirmed your earlier thoughts, that he was aware of what Uvo was doing, but chose to partake anyway. You didn’t even have time to be angry at this, because you just blew your second chance to back down.

Phinks stopped walking shortly after you spoke, and you slowed your pace when the sound of his steps was no longer. You lifted your gaze, watching him turn back with pocketed fists.

“You know just as well as me what Uvo is really doing. The same thing every day, with the same snarky smile and challenging comebacks. So, naturally, that only leaves you.”

You lifted a brow, a show of genuine confusion.

“What about me?”

“If you know that I don’t like when the other Spiders talk to you, why do you entertain them? Why don’t you leave, go to another room or something? Do you like the attention from the other members, from the other men?”

He took a step closer to you, head tilting with an ever-deepening furrow of his brows as he looked down at you.

Now he was being ridiculous. You didn’t know where the hell he was getting this from, or why he now felt the need to start another dispute with you this time, but what you did know was that it was making you angry. It became harder to stop yourself from giving in, you couldn’t just comply after an allegation like that.

“So I’m not allowed to answer when someone asks me something, then? Wouldn’t you go ballistic if I ignored a question from you?!”

“That’s different, Y/N.”

“How?! It isn’t at all and you know it, Phinks. You’re just horribly jealous, is all.”

He was at your side in an instant, grip deathly on your jaw as he tore your head to the side so that your noses were almost touching.

“Who gave you the right to speak to me that way? What makes you think you can tell me what I am?”

Your breath simply stopped, the intense seething behind his eyes stealing any fight you had left. What happened to those fundamentals you had taught yourself, the walls you had built to remain at arm's length and not question his authority to evade that notorious temper of his? You were in too deep now, you had said too much. You couldn’t possibly fix this. He hummed aggressively, his fingers moving to your cheeks to squish them together degradingly as he awaited your response.

Perhaps captivity had also increased your stupidity because the idea of you being too far gone only encouraged you to become worse. Your next sentence, albeit muffled by his grip, was dangerously venomous.

“You won’t deny it because you know I’m right.”

His grip tightened so intensely that you were shocked he didn’t just pop holes in your cheeks with his fingernails. Knowing how strong he was, you had to guess that he was holding back an immense amount of his power to avoid making that thought a reality.

“Not sure where you got this attitude from, Y/N. But you’re gonna be losing it damn soon.” He grabbed your wrist with bruising power, dragging you along with him as he began to stride quickly down the halls, weaving through and around sharp corners and ominous doors you had never seen here before since he would usually force you to stay in the same few rooms.

“Phinks,” you whimpered, feet becoming sore as you struggled to keep up with his fast pace, though his unrelenting hand forced you to whether you could or not. You were sure that if you collapsed here he would simply lug you along like a sack of potatoes, worthlessly and carelessly.

He stopped without warning, causing you to collapse into his back when you were finally done moving. You held onto his bicep with your free hand, desperately trying to catch your breath as you took a few steps to stand at his side. He was silent for now, clearly waiting for you.

You forced yourself to stand up straighter, taking one last puff of air through your mouth before panting through your nose and focusing your eyes on what was in front of you.

A metal door.

Scanning it up and down, you noticed how tall it was. It was a floor-to-ceiling door, the first you had ever seen. It was probably heavy and would require a fair amount of strength to get opened and closed by one person. You were curious now, you had never seen a door like this before. Why did Phinks bring you here? Allowing your eyes to wander, your chin met your shoulder as you looked behind. This door was located at the end of a very, very long hallway. With no other doors or windows in sight, and few dimly lit ceiling lights.

Isolated.

A heavy grating sound echoed out, making you wince as you whipped back around to see Phinks pushing the door open.

“I almost feel bad putting you through this, but you always were a defiant one. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to get you here in the first place” he chuckled, holding the door open with his foot as he turned to look at you. “How good that I did, though. Don’t you think so? It’s like you were made for me, I love a good challenge.”

You couldn’t answer before his hands found your waist, a startled sound leaving you when he pulled you closer. You didn’t like where this was going. You could see the room in your peripheral vision. It was dark, barely lit, and as far as you could see it was completely empty.

“This should put that defiance to rest. Uh…sorry though.”

He tossed you into the room with ease. He used enough force to make you land a fair distance away, enough so that when you scrambled to your feet and ran back to the door, he was able to get it closed in time to only be cracked open. You already knew you’d be unable to pry it back all the way so you didn’t even bother, hating to admit that defeat, but willing to take your last chance by talking to him face to face.

“Phinks! What are you doing?!” You began to shiver then, suddenly aware of how it was so cold in here. You felt such a strong need to be held, to bask in the warmth that Phinks’ arms could provide. If you could just get closer to him…

You tried. And he held you back with a hand to your cheek.

“You’re more fun when you listen, Y/N. The sooner you realize that this is for your own good, the easier this will be. I’ll be back soon.”

He leaned in to kiss your forehead, the hand on your cheek lifting to stroke your hair. He gave you a final look, his eyes gleaming with what you thought was a hint of pity before he let the door close. You were able to see his back as he turned away from you before it closed entirely, the loud thud of it doing so sending a chill down your spine.

He was just… leaving you here. This hideout was already a limited space for you, the few rooms he allowed you to reside in were all within walking distance of each other. The whirlwind journey that was required for you to get to this room left you unable to retrace your steps, you truly had no sense of your surroundings now. In your life before, when Phinks was simply your boyfriend who was not holding you hostage and did not kidnap you, he would leave the room if an argument started between you, isolating himself so he wouldn’t do anything irrational. Now he was forcing you to do the same.

The resolve you had gathered from your arrival here to now was long since shattered, you slumped down to your knees and rested your forehead against the door, its cool metal chilling out the warmth that was once there from Phinks’ lips. Now you could do nothing but wait. He did say he would be back soon! Maybe you could use this time to think about what you had done, to revise your reaction and fix it to prevent anything like this from happening ever again.

A tear slipped from your eye. You were more fun when you listened, after all. If you wanted to stay away from this essential cage, you could never slip up again, you were meant to be complicit. You were captured by your predator, and a captured prey has no right to challenge its predator’s authority.

#✧meyou #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter #hxh #phinks #phinks x reader #yandere phinks #yandere x reader #yandere hxh #phantom troupe #phinks x you #✧musinghxhmasterlist #hxh x reader

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holydayaria · 15 days

Text

Phinks’ over-protectiveness is sweet the first two or three times, when he whisk you away from other men at the bar or how he scares off other guys trying to hit on you. It’s kind of cute when he gave you his jacket because it’s a bit cold outside, (he really just didn’t want other guys in public to look at your body). Until you realize that he wasn’t just overprotective in selective situations, he was like that all of the time. Jealousy seems to be his default setting when it comes to you. It takes about one to two months for it to go from cute to overbearing and downright insufferable.

#he’s trying so hard to be normal and failing each time #Yandere Phinks #_phinks #_hxh

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rotten-pomegranate · 25 days

Note

(Happy Easter! 🐇) Hiiii, in the headcanons you did about the reader who escaped for years, how long do you think it would take for the characters to trust their darling after escape attempt? Have a wonderful day! 🫶

I will have a wonderful day(it’s 5:00 in the morning where I am) thank you

Warnings: torture

/|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\

Feitan

Feitan will never trust you again your gonna be used as a slave for the rest of your life once he gets you back

He might give you privileges like cooking or having a bed back but when he has a meeting with the troupe your chained to the wall

If you ask him for forgiveness he’s gonna straight up cackle in your face and rough you up a bit

The only reason your aloud to cook is because he wants to eat without having to make food so you do it

Shalnark

Shalnark is gonna take a while and you may start to think you got his trust back early on you didn’t he’s just tricking you into thinking that so you let your guard down

He’s gonna keep you in a dog cage until he trust you again, a big dog cage with lots of fluffy pillows and blankets but still a dog bed

He might fully treat you like a dog for a while just to humiliate you, making you beg for food and water every time you wanted some, and you gotta drink and eat it out of a bowl to

He holds a lot of stuff over your head after that, you won’t suck him off to get rid of his morning wood? Remember how nice he was when you ran away, he could have been cruel

He just uses it to guilt trip you

Phinks

Phinks folds the quickest, hearing your little cries coming from the room he locked you in is to much and he wants to hold and comfort you

He doesn’t give you all your privileges back and he’ll never fully trust you again but it’s better then nothing

He expects you to put an effort in your “relationship” now including intimate situations as well, he wants you to do stuff not just lay there and cry

Illumi

Illumi was livid when you escaped and he was livid when he found you, your never gonna get privileges or trust back

He just uses you a an incubator for his heir until he has one and after he has his fairly large family your going on birth control and your just his sex toy that he uses for stress relief

He’ll let you have a knife for cooking which he also makes you do all off

He’s gonna be hitting you a lot more as well, if he didn’t do it often before he does now

Hisoka

You don’t get privileges, you don’t even get to eat most of the time, your his personal flesh light until he forgives and stops beating you up every chance he gets but your still his personal sex doll and your only job is to warm his bed from now on

He’ll let you freely use the bathroom and eat without begging but don’t take it for granted because he can hold a grudge

If you start asking for stuff again he might beat you up to remind you of your place again so just don’t

Chrollo

You better have enjoyed your little vacation because your never gonna see the light of day again, your tied up in his basement, attached to a little bed with access to a small kitchen and a bathroom but it’s far from freedom

He’s still gonna get you pretty dresses but they are only for him to see

He’s never gonna trust you, he’s gonna hold everything over your head from now on, he got you a tight skimpy dress that you don’t even like? Your gonna have to set an alarm because he wants to wake up to a blow job to make his morning wood go down

It’s not gonna be the worst but it won’t be nearly what it was before

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novasdarling · 2 years

Note

This is my last idea I swear. We’ve also seen Chrollo and Feitan when their significant other escapes, what about Phinks?

He is both easy and hard to deal with. See his anger gets him acting out before he can think. BUT he is also easy to manipulate with some sweet words and intimacy.

I'm Sorry

TW: Kidnapping Mentioned, Dubcon, Though gender/sex not really mentioned I did write with a female reader in mind, A Chase scene/predator&prey

The roads weren’t safe, the visibility was too high on them. It would be the first place he would look when he came home to an empty house. Phinks would be pissed, you were supposed to stay inside when he was gone. Only allowed out during the day to tend to the garden he had built for you. That was all, you certainly weren't allowed out into the woods. So far away from home and having no intentions of returning to your captor. If you didn't succeed, you weren't sure how he'd react.

It felt like you had been walking for hours, your feet sore and ready to give out. The sky was already fading, the sun setting as the moon became clearer. He would be home soon if he hadn't already arrived. You needed to distance yourself as much as you could before he started his hunt after you. Actually, give yourself as much of a chance you could get against a man like Phinks. Perhaps you could get to the other side of the forest, get to another cabin or a small town you know was on the Northern side of the woods. The only issue was you weren't sure you were heading North, you think you remember Phinks mentioning the lake was in the South so you headed away from there. Hoping you remembered the directions right. Your memory was your only chance to get away right now.

The option of staying in the woods was growing thinner by the minute. There would be no light soon, no way to properly see where you were going. It would push you towards the road in order to see. Or another option would be to find somewhere to hide and sleep till daylight. Each option offered benefits and drawbacks. Phinks would probably look on the roads first. Then when he didn’t find you he would search the woods. It would be too obvious to go towards the roads first. The best option was to stay in the forest. As you found a tree to lay under and rest, you hoped he would think you would go for the obvious option. It was the only way you would have any chance of getting away from him.

Phinks had come home late that night. Taking longer with the troupe than he originally thought. He hoped you didn't wait up for him, he had some plans for tomorrow and you would need your sleep. Pulling into the lane by the house he was stunned when he saw all the lights out. Not one window was illuminated. Sure he was late, but typically you kept a hallway or bathroom light on. It was odd to see the house completely dark like this. Phinks began to worry, this difference in behaviour couldn’t mean anything good, and he was right. As he ran into the house, searching every room for you. Every room he didn’t find you in, worried him further. When he walked through the last room, his heart shanked. You weren't there and no matter how many times he called your name and shouted threats. You were still nowhere to be found. You were truly gone, nowhere in the house. Not even hiding from him like you did occasionally. His usual threats weren't pulling you out. You were gone.

Running out of the house Phinks screamed your name. Stupidly pleading for you to come out wherever you were. It was no use, you wouldn’t appear. You were gone, he knew that, but now the question of where did you go? There wasn’t a town for a few kilometres, that would be a good place to run to. Hopping into the car, ready to head out to you, he paused. Sure, the road was the best bet, there was light and chances are someone would see you and take pity. Yet, something in his mind told him you wouldn’t pick that route. It was too obvious. Looking towards the woods, he guessed you would go in that direction. Though harder, it was safer when it came to your hiding ability. There were a number of areas you could hide from him to buy you more time. He both hated and admired you for being so smart. Getting out of the car he headed towards the woods. Hoping to find you before the morning light.

It wasn’t long until he found hints of you, hair caught on low branches, footsteps. He was never a tracker, but fortunately, his prey didn’t know much about hiding their tracks. All leading towards to you. Fast asleep under a tree, using fallen branches and bushes to shelter you. If he wasn’t so irritated, he would take some time to admire your sleeping form. Looking so peaceful even when you had caused so much distress to him. He took a moment to go over what he should do. Wake and berate you, let you know what you have done to him. How you drove him crazy with worry by not being home waiting for him like he always told you to. The pain you inflicted on him by running away was like nothing else. Phinks always told you running away was the worse thing you could do to him. Was being with him so bad that you rather be out here, under a tree in the cold of the night than with him? He loved you, provided you with food, shelter, and gifts. Was he not enough? Phinks was his own worst enemy, riling himself up. You still hadn't opened up to him fully. Staying reserved around him, not openly seeking affection, but accepting most of his. He thought you were getting better, understanding why you were with him. Yet, as he watched you sleep under the tree, he realized he was wrong. You weren’t getting better. He still needed to work on you. Picking you up without waking you, he carried you home. Taking his time planning a suitable punishment for such crude behaviour. He allowed you outside during the day to tend to that garden he so kindly built. He gave you so many freedoms and tolerated all your little wishes. Many of the troupe weren’t so kind to their darlings. Some didn’t even let them leave the shared bedroom even after months of being together. Phinks was sweet and kind, he cared for you and did what was best for you. He wanted you happy and did his best to make it happen. Even after all that, you ran. You left him, basically spat in his face. Pushed his generosity aside for this little tantrum. It was just something he couldn’t forgive. You needed to be dealt with.

It was morning by the time you woke up. The light shining in your eyes forcing you awake. You would think the leaves and branches from the tree tops would do better at filtering the light. It took you a moment to realize why you had slept so well. You weren't on the rocky ground anymore. No, now you were in the bed you shared with that man. Shooting up, you looked around. Expecting to see him there somewhere. Peering down at you, holding you down, but no. He wasn’t in the room. Your options were limited, either go and find him and face his wrath or wait and face his wrath. Either way, you would have to deal with his anger. After waiting a few minutes, you decided to get up. It would be better to get it over with. To find out what he was going to do to you. You had never run away before. Disobeyed his orders a few times sure, especially in the beginning. Leading to you getting tied up, privileges stripped, and locked in a room while you thrashed and yelled for an hour or two to calm you down. He had never laid a hand on you unless it was to restrain you. Never willingly harming you physically, but what if this was what made him snap? He had kidnapped you, kept you locked up. Physical violence wasn’t far off. Heading towards the door you tried to prepare yourself, he wouldn’t kill you. He always talked about how he loved you and you two were meant to be. It was clear Phinks was crazy, but not kill-the-person-you-loved-crazy.

You prepared yourself for the worse, but your blood ran cold as the handle refused to turn. Trying again, but it was still locked. He had trapped you in the bedroom. Shaking and slamming the door did nothing, it was truly locked. He had found you and brought you back only to lock you up in the bedroom. This couldn’t be good. Even during the early days, he let you roam around the house, only confining you in rooms when he left for missions or went to the nearest town for a grocery run. Him locking you away wasn’t a good sign.

“Phinks!” You pounded on the door, hoping he was still here. That he didn’t leave you locked up to die. “Phinks! Please!”

After pounding and kicking the door, there was noise coming from the other side. Movement heading towards you. He was still here, he hadn't left you to die. But as each step got closer, you began to think perhaps him being here wasn’t such a good option either. Phinks had made it clear running away was the worst you could do to him. It was something he just couldn’t tolerate. As he made his way through the door, the realization of what you had done hit. You broke his most important rule. As he shoved the door open, almost breaking it. You realized you were right, running away was a mistake. Crawling back on the bed, moving backwards trying to distance yourself from him. When he was angry, he tended to act without thinking about things fully.

“Phinks I’m sorry, I-”

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear it.” He was standing at the end of the bed. Peering down at you. “I leave you alone for a day, a day! I trust you enough to be able to go outside and play with that little garden of yours. I trusted you.”

“I know, I don’t know-”

“I said shut up! You don’t get to beg and plead after what you did. Apologize after you hurt me. It’s clear you don't fucking mean it.”

You wanted to plead with him, to grant you mercy for your mistake. Even though you didn’t regret the act fully. You knew it was better to plead and cry and try to appeal to the little humanity he had with you. All there was left to do was curl up and cry as he berated you. Let him get his anger out on how foolish you were, how cruel you could be to him. There was no getting away from him now.

Phinks took his time yelling at you, detailing how you disappointed him. How hurt he was by all of this. He thought you were better, that you liked being here. Liked being with him, but it turns out he was wrong. He had been too soft on you, too kind when you hadn't done the same with him. Somehow, he was making you feel bad, that you had taken his kindness for granted even though he had kidnapped you.

“Now the question is what to do with you?” Phinks was pacing back and forth, keeping his eyes on you. “I can’t trust you to be alone, that’s clear. Don’t even know if I can trust you outside anymore.”

“You-” He stopped pacing to stare at you. Shutting you up right away.

“Good, seems like you can learn.”

Phinks took a deep breath before taking a seat on the bed. Getting as close to you as he could while still giving you space. You weren't sure if that space was for you, or for him. Giving himself space so he hurt you. You looked at him, waiting for him to say something. To tell you what his plans were. What exactly your punishment was going to be.

“It’s hard to be mad at you.” He breathed out, giving you the softest look he had since this argument began.

“I’m sorry” You sat up, crawling towards him. Hoping to appease to his softer side. You could lie your way out of this if you tried hard enough. “I feel so bad, I just got scared being alone and ran. I didn’t even know where to go. I just ran without a plan.” Rubbing his cheek and forcing him to look at you. “I don’t like being alone, I just got scared and ran. It was stupid and I can't tell you how sorry I am.”

Crawling into his lap to see his face better. Peppering kisses along his jaw, telling him over and over how sorry you were. How much you loved him, how stupid you were. Hoping to win his favour. As you continued, you could see him smiling. Humming at every kiss you gave him. He was enjoying this, there was a chance you could really convince him you didn’t want to get away. That you made a mistake you regret.

"You weren't trying to get away from me?"

"No I wasn't, I could never. I was just scared of being alone."

“And you’re sorry?”

“Yes, I am. I wish I stayed like you said to. I started to regret my choice, but it was too late. It was too dark and I wasn’t sure which way was home. I thought if I waited till morning, I could find my way back.” It was a lie, but Phinks always thought the best of you. You hoped that hadn't stopped.

“That’s why you were sleeping?”

“Yes, I wanted to go back, but couldn’t.”

“Oh babe, you must have been so scared.”

Phinks smiled at you. He was back, back to thinking so little of you that you just weren't able to build up the courage to run. He was buying your story, but you could tell he was still mad, still holding back from trusting you fully.

“Let me show you how sorry I am, please.”

You took his silence as confirmation to continue. Pressing yourself closer to him, letting your lips drift to his. He happily accepted your kiss. Letting you take the lead, proving to him how much he meant to you. Although intimacy wasn’t new between you two, you had never taken the lead before. This was all new territory, a part of you was repulsed by being with your captor. Yet, you continued on, hoping he wouldn’t demand more than a kiss and some touches. But as he placed his hands on your hips to keep you in place. Letting you know, he wanted more than just kisses.

480 notes · View notes

kiame-sama · 2 years

Note

Do you think you could write Phantom x male omega one day? I really love that series❤️❤️

Male reader version of the story I posted earlier. Feast, my lovies!

Warnings; yandere, abo au, omega reader, my omegaverse au, almost entirely nsfw, harem/ reverse-harem style relationship, NSFW teasing, orgasm denial, threeway, foursome, oral (male and female receiving), anal, tears, light spanking, light bondage, knotting, alpha behavior, threats (not towards reader), sex toys, mention of murder, possessive behavior, fluff at the end, male reader, male omegas can get pregnant too in my au, male omegas also create their own internal lube,

~~~~~~~~

You panted and whined as you gripped the fallen pillar in front of you, feeling such a large and firm length pushing into you with near bruising force. The knot that formed at the base of that length made the sounds of your copulation seem even louder, apparent squishing and squelching noises clear even with the volume you whined and moaned at. Your alpha- Chrollo- continued to pound away into you, the loose pants you wore lay pooled around your knees and allowed the alpha complete access to your tight ass.

The warmth radiating off of the alpha had you mewling and toes curling from the pleasure that burned through you. There was no need for you to muffle your whining moans as the only ones who could hear you were currently enjoying the sound of you being pounded into the smooth marble surface. Chrollo had waited a surprisingly long time before he decided to actually mate you and officially make you the Troupe's omega, having the right to mate you first as he was lead alpha of the troupe.

By no uncertain terms did the Troupe ever plan on losing you for any reason, every member nearly chomping at the bit to get their turn to mate you. The hierarchy within the Troupe would become apparent to you based off of who gets to mate you in what order. Of course, Chrollo was the top of the pack and was the apex alpha of the group so he had the right to mate you whenever he felt like it and when the Troupe spread out after a heist you would be with Chrollo or at least two other members. You faintly wondered who would be the second to claim you and mark you once Chrollo had his fill.

"Please... Please..! Alpha, I- fuck!"

"Good omega. That's my good boy... Tell me how much you want my knot, how much you NEED it to stuff you full."

"I need- I need it, alpha..! Please! I need your knot-!"

"Never forget who the alpha of the Troupe is, who your alpha is."

"Yes- Yes, alpha..!"

The low chuckle that hummed through his chest made your eyes roll back, feeling that hum through your body. You knew you would be sore after Chrollo was finished mating you for the time being, hoping that the Troupe would be able to curb their enthusiasm to let you rest before mating you as well. For now you only felt the thick and long length that was stuffed inside of you, feeling the knot at the base swell up even more with every thrust.

Once it felt almost too big was when Chrollo finally shoved the entirety of his length into you, the knot locking you both in place as each spurt of cum splashed into you. Your body responded to the large knot by scrambling your brain with bliss, shoving you directly into your fourth and strongest orgasm as your cum splashed onto the fallen pillar. The way you wailed and mewled from the sensation was sweeter than any music the Troupe had ever heard, loving the sound of their omega in absolute bliss.

Whereas Chrollo decided to take you to a more concealed location in the abandoned building to mate you, the Troupe was still able to hear every little noise you made and your scent was beginning to drive them feral. Pakunoda and Uvogin in particular felt a rather intense desire to mate you as soon as Chrollo was done, their alpha instincts desperately wanting to claim you for themselves or to mark up your soft body. The other Troupe members desired you to a similar level, everyone wanting to feel your wonderful omega body so pliant beneath their own.

"Which do you think is better, Machi, the one with an inflatable knot or the vibrating one?"

Shizuku sat looking at the assortment of strap-on dildos she and Machi had gathered, being the only two who did not have cocks to fuck you with but wanting the chance to do it all the same. Machi felt more along the lines of riding you, but she was willing to use whatever you wanted to fuck you senseless. Even beyond just the strap-on selection, there were countless other items made specifically to pleasure an omega. Sure, stealing a whole shipment of sex toys wasn't what they anticipated doing, but they weren't just going to toss the toys out without at least trying them on their lovely omega first.

"This one that has an inflatable knot, vibrates, and is dual sided."

"Oh! I forgot we had that one. What colors does it come in?"

"Sparkling pink, sparkling blue, and sparkling purple."

"Wait, what are we talking about again?"

As the two continued to look around the assortment of sex toys, your whining moans started up again, Chrollo likely putting you through another round of mating. Uvogin growled in vague impatience, wanting to storm up and snatch you away but knowing better than to interrupt Chrollo. Still, didn't mean he liked having to wait.

"If the Boss keeps this up, we won't be able to mate him for a few days!"

Despite his grumbling, he was still excited over the prospect of getting to have an omega at all. Nobunaga- as always- was the calming voice of reason for the large alpha, talking in a relaxed drawl as he waited among the others.

"And? You know how the Boss is, besides, (y/n)'s an omega. I don't know about you, Uvo, but I'm thinking we're all going to want to mate him several times. It's probably going to take a while for all of us to get a chance with him."

The large alpha only hummed in acknowledgement to the Gamma's words, knowing it was truth but still irritated all the same with the situation. All of the present Troupe members felt that want inside of them, eager to indulge in the rarity that was mating an omega. Even before Chrollo had taken you away to mate, they had agreed on where each member would put their mating mark on your soft skin. Those marks would bind you to the Troupe and the Troupe to you.

~~~~~~~~

"Mhmph-!"

Your whines were muffled due to the warm cock that currently took up most of the space in your mouth. Beneath you, Uvogin lay with his head between your legs and had been sucking harshly on you all while toying with your tight ass for at least two orgasms so far, refusing to release your hips to allow you the ability to stand. The sensation of his slightly rough hands pulling your hips in a thrusting motion made you mewl oh so sweetly for the pair, moaning around Nobunaga's cock.

They had both agreed what their roles would be in this interaction long before actually mating you, working together to make you a senseless moaning mess. Each time your voice cracked or you whined around Nobunaga's cock, the black haired man couldn't help but moan as well, your scent working the two males into a near frenzy state of pleasure. They both understood now why Chrollo had taken his time with you, the pheromones you let out making them want you even more and filling both males with the intense desire of making you delirious with pleasure.

As the second strongest alpha of the group, Uvogin and his usual gamma accomplice- Nobunaga- were the two allowed to mate you after Chrollo. Naturally, both were enamored by your scent and by you in general, wanting to mainly make you happy and relaxed among the two of them. Beyond just having you be comfortable with them, they wanted you to like them and enjoy mating with them.

"Fuck... (Y/n), you look so damn good like this... Just taking my cock so well..!"

Nobunaga couldn't help but pant and was nearly drooling at the sensation of your warm mouth wrapped around his throbbing length. The sight paired with the sound of Uvogin sloppily slurping at your hard cock was almost enough to make him cum then and there, but with the sensation of you sucking so sweetly on him he was ready to fill your soft omega stomach with his seed. He felt his balls tighten as he shot his load down your throat, impulsively gripping the sides of your head and pushing as deep as your throat would allow him to go. The sensation of your throat hugging and massaging his cock as you slightly gagged had him reeling in bliss.

As soon as he felt that last spurt of cum leave his body, he was quick to pull back and let you breathe without his cock getting in the way. Sure, it felt heavenly to feel his cock so deep in your throat, but he wanted to make sure he didn't hurt you or push you too far while he sought to get himself off with your help.

Uvogin moaned beneath you as the sensation of Nobunaga cumming made you cum as well, just spurting into Uvogin's waiting throat which he happily drank down with an intense fervor. The large alpha's cock stood stiffly and almost seemed painful with how swollen and flushed it was, his knot already starting to form as he ached for your gentle touch and the warm embrace of your insides squeezing down on him. He was clearly excited and in desperate need for you, but the way he worked you over with his mouth made it clear he had no intention of letting you get up until he has had his fill.

~~~~~~~~

You cuddled close to the warm and soft chest of the female alpha, completely relaxed in the gentle embrace even as you whined softly from the stimulation between your soft thighs. Shizuku was quite happy to continue to lap at your slowly stiffening cock and slightly sore ass, the gamma contentedly soothed you after the rather rough pounding from the blond female alpha's cock. There was little on your mind other than the relaxed feeling of laying in Pakunoda's arms and allowing the forgetful gamma to lap up both your cum and the alpha's cum from your shaking thighs.

Occasionally you felt when Shizuku lost focus or seemed to forget what she was doing, but the slight lull in pleasure only for her to return to her task rather vigorously kept you a melted puddle of pleasure. The absolute comfort of letting the women care for you was just one perk of your decision to take the whole Troupe on as mates, knowing that you would always be satisfied regardless of which members you may be with.

"Here," Pakunoda hummed gently and held up a glass of water to your lips, helping you tilt it for a proper drink, "your throat must be dry after all of that moaning."

She chuckled softly as your face burned slightly from embarrassment, completely aware that the entire Troupe found your moans to be rather sweet music to listen to. It did come as a bit of a surprise to you to realize just how affectionate such dangerous individuals could be. You weren't kept in the dark about what the Troupe often did and how many the Troupe killed, but you also knew that there was not a single member that would try to harm you in any capacity.

It was soothing to your inner omega to know that the Troupe would never allow anything to happen to you, and even if it did they would die to get you back. Some part of you had expected their behavior to be rather protective, but even you realized that they were far past just being protective of you. If you ever wondered where you stood with the troupe, you would only need to talk to realize their complete adoration for you in how you immediately had their attention.

Even though they were all going to be your mates, you knew who your primary mate was simply for the fact he had the ability to chose who would mate you while you are in heat. It was decided rather easily as none of the others would dare oppose the apex alpha when he claimed the privilege of choosing to keep you by his side when the Troupe needed to split or who you would go with. It just wouldn't be safe to have you in heat around so many different ranks and in a densely populated city, your scent alone would be able to draw in every alpha in the city limits. You would have to be kept somewhere secure and away from large groups, so the apex alpha was the one to choose your ideal protector and mates during such times.

"You taste so good!"

Shizuku giggled in amusement, her glasses up on the top of her head like a hair-band keeping her dark black locks pushed back out of her face. Clearly she was happy tasting and teasing you as Pakunoda slowly and gently massaged your shaking thighs, enjoying the sight of the gamma sucking almost aggressively at your cock.

"Good omega... Our good little omega..."

~~~~~~~~

You were panting in complete bliss, trying to regain your breath even though the delta had yet to stop stimulating your now soft length, wringing several whining moans from you. Your hands gripped at the bright pink hair of the delta as you mewled, arching your back as she gently worked you over with precise strokes on your hardening cock and small tongue flicks over your tip. Everything Machi did only added to the immense pleasure you felt, wanting as much as she would give you.

"Such a handsome little omega... So cute and affectionate for me."

Machi slowly withdrew her fingers before she lay back against the many pillows and blankets that had been gathered by the troupe for the sole purpose of cushioning while mating you. She lightly tugged at the thin chain leash that connected to the collar the spiders had put on you, calling you over until you were between her legs. Her intelligent eyes never left your figure for a second as the corners of her mouth quirked up into a slight smirk.

"Be a good boy and enjoy your treat," she hummed, opening her legs to give you a clear view of her completely soaked pussy, "make sure you lick it all up."

It was clear what she wanted as she gave a gentle tug to the leash, licking her lips as you settled on your front with your mouth level to her warm sex. You slowly started with light licks, testing her reactions and getting a small taste of her slick before relaxing into the motions of long strokes of your tongue through her folds. Machi gently rest her hand on the back of your head, moving her hips in time with your mouth as you began to lave and slurp at her soft pussy.

"Fuck..! That's it... Good boy~! Such a good boy..!"

You moaned and whined into her heat, feeling the way your length stood stiffly and pressed against your thighs as you became more worked up. Machi was quite sweet now that you two were alone, doing what she could to pleasure you however possible. Her eyes were half-lidded and filled with pleasure, occasionally giving a light tug at the leash whenever you did something she particularly enjoyed.

"Look at me."

Her hand gently stroked over your cheek as you glanced up into her adoring gaze, listening to her moan from how obedient you were being. She rest her hand on the back of your head and pushed you into her folds, practically making you tongue fuck her as you both moaned and whined. The careful way she manipulated your head yet still let you breathe was endearing, knowing she wanted no harm to come to you despite also wanting pleasure from you.

Her touch was quite gentle, especially in comparison to others of the Troupe and that gentleness was quite soothing to you. It seemed as if she truly wanted to treat you as if you were delicate or fragile, almost like she was happy just having someone she could be soft with. You had initially thought she was going to be far more demanding like Pakunoda had been, but Machi seemed truly content with simply adoring you as you nuzzled between her warm folds.

"Do you want me to calm your frustrated cock, my sweet omega (y/n)?"

You made a noise of affirmation into her soft body and she smiled, enamored with the way you answered her without pulling away from her slick heat. She moved a hand beneath your jaw and slowly tried to lift you from your position between her legs, but a whining complaint from you made her laugh, cupping your cheeks with her hands.

"If you want me to help the both of us, you need to sit up for me."

Despite your want to remain where you were between her thighs, you allowed the pink-haired phantom to lead you into a sitting position, her legs spreading and her fingers spreading her warm folds. She pulled you close, fingers giving your soft ass a squeeze as she moved you so your cock slid through her warmth. Your slight yelp of surprise was followed by a sweet chuckle, feeling your stiff need pressed up against her soft pussy.

A slow roll of her hips made your tip slip inside of her, a satisfying warmth running through your body with surprising speed as you sank fully inside of her. Machi's hands, which had yet to leave your plush flesh made you move with her in a rather relaxed pace, moaning gently from the sensation. Eventually she didn't have to move you as you began to buck your hips on your own, seeking the warm sparks of pleasure that shot through you with your slightly clumsy hip movements.

"So precious..."

Machi hummed softly, matching whatever pace you set and allowing you to explore her unfamiliar and warm walls which squeezed and almost seemed to pulse around you. She doubted that Shizuku had done something similar, as the other woman had been more interested in sucking you off or in Pakunoda taking care of the both of you. It was almost a kind of additional pleasure that ran through her mind as she thought about being the first to see such cute and hesitant behavior from you in such a position. Omegas were used to being fucked, not usually the ones doing the fucking.

You leaned forward with your hands gripping her hips, catching one of her warm breasts in your mouth and muffling your sounds. Each quiet moan was near musical to Machi as she hummed with an enamored smile, taking in the sight with no small amount of pleasure. The way you gasped breathlessly around her soft breast and allowed the sensation to flood your body was just too much for your mate to handle.

With a startled yelp, you found yourself laying on your back with Machi's legs on either side of your hips. She straddled your body and continued moving her soaking heat to pump your cock, caressing your chest with a tender and kind touch. The pleasure began to build up as you got closer and closer to your climax, mewling and gasping to beg the delta to continue giving you what you needed so desperately.

Machi wasn't about to stop anyway, but she did find your whimpers and whining tones to be oh so sweet. She had been rather excited to be able to have you all to herself, seeing as the Troupe intentionally tried to group up as their rank and temper would dictate. As a delta, Machi was allowed to remain outside of a group given the natural tendency for deltas to not get along with other ranks very often.

"Please-! So close..! Fuck, please!"

"So cute."

She gently teased, only increasing her pace and roughly pushing you both over into complete bliss. You shivered and gasped, body tensing and relaxing as the waves of pleasure washed over you completely. The sensation of filling her up left you breathless on top of the delta who chuckled when she saw your tired expression.

"Want to rest, or keep going?"

~~~~~~~~

To say you were vaguely intimidated would be an understatement.

Franklin was not a small man and similarly his sturdy length was just as big as the rest of his body. Uvogin was a large alpha and you were able to take him well enough, but Franklin was just as big and even thicker. You could certainly take him, but there was going to be one hell of a stretch that vaguely distressed you.

As a delta, he was quiet and preferred to mate alone without any company. His quiet behavior was slightly unsettling but to your surprise he was very gentle every time he caressed your soft skin. You could feel he was trying to soothe your vague distress by being extra gentle while preparing you to take his large cock.

The way he slowly pumped his fingers into you was fairly soothing and certainly helped calm you down, his more gentle movements soothed you greatly. He certainly looked rather intimidating in size and general demeanor, so the relaxed way he interacted with you managed to keep your fear of him rather low. It also seemed like he was well aware of his size and the potentially negative impact it could have on you during mating, evident for the fact that he had three rather thick fingers inside of you at this point.

You moaned softly, letting the large delta move you and manipulate your body as he removed his fingers from your tender hole. He gently pulled at your hips and lifted you so you sat straddling his lap, his very eager length prodding at you as it twitched with his heartbeat. A soft whimper escaped your lips and Franklin hummed, rubbing your back soothingly and letting you control the speed at which he sank into you.

You were right in that it was one hell of a stretch, feeling the way your body had to strain just to fit the tip of his cock into you. A faint worry that you would be hurt if you went any further buzzed in the back of your mind, but you did your best to ignore that feeling. Your body was built to stretch and withstand quite a lot, seeing as every rank you encountered would be keen to mate you, so you should technically be able to take all of him.

With your hands resting on his chest, you continued to let yourself sink down onto the stiff length. Occasionally, your nails would bite down reflexively from stress and you would have to pause to calm yourself before continuing. It took some time, but eventually he was completely sheathed inside of your warm walls.

The both of you had to take a moment to simply adjust to the feeling, you adjusting to the stretch and Franklin adjusting to the embrace of your body. His cheeks were dusted a deep red and his eyes were half-lidded in pleasure, his pupils blown wide as he stared adoringly at you. You could feel the ample natural lubricant your body produced soothing any pain you would have felt from the stretch, able to see the way your stomach distended to show where he was inside of you.

Ever concerned about frightening or upsetting you, Franklin kept his hands resting on your hips and fought his desire to move even a little bit as you relaxed. He would let you go at your pace. If you wanted any friction from the rather snug fit, you would have to get it yourself.

The both of you let out a moan as you lifted up and let gravity pull you back down, his moan deeper and quieter compared to your exuberant high whine. You continued this motion until you fell into an easy rhythm, any stress you felt disappearing from your mind as it was replaced with pleasure. Franklin slowly began to move his hips up to meet you, helping lift you up and down when you began to tire.

It was then Franklin realized something rather obvious. Truly, the body of an omega was a wonderful thing. Omegas in general are wonderful.

You are wonderful.

~~~~~~~~

"Fuck..!"

You whined loudly as the delta above you hissed through his teeth, moving his hips at a relaxed and rolling pace that was near torturous to you. It made sense he would do something like that, Feitan was the primary torturer of the troupe and he clearly had keen interest in torturing himself with how slowly he was going as he caressed your soft body. Each slow thrust into you made you mewl beneath the delta as you pressed your hips back into the thrust, letting out a yelp at the light smack on your exposed ass.

"Told you, I decide the pace. Only me."

You whimpered loudly in an almost begging tone to the delta, staying as still as you could to not earn another swat. It didn't hurt or even burn, but you also knew you shouldn't push the temperamental delta if you could help it. Feitan had told you from the start that you could beg and whine as much as you wanted, but he was going to make the decision in how he wanted to breed you.

"Ple-please..!" You whined, wanting the delta to just spear into you and give you the blissful release you desired, "I need it..! Please..!"

"Begging? I fuck you how I want."

For a man who spoke very little, Feitan certainly managed to get you whining and mewling for him with the few words he did say. Though he spoke in incomplete or improper sentences, you understood him and what he wanted perfectly. When it was his turn to mate you, he was quick to put you on your hands and knees in the most common position to breed an omega in.

So far he had been very sparing in what little he gave you, but what he did do had you harder than stone and begging with cute little whimpers for more attention. The slow and relaxed pace he pushed into you made you mewl so sweetly and you began to realize why he was the last of the deltas to mate you. He truly seemed to have a difficult time being gentle so the only way he could mate you was after you've already been mated several times and had the chance to adjust to the sensation. Not to mention the fact that he had more 'adventurous' kinks, hence the fact that your wrists were cuffed together by a comfortable yet sturdy pair of handcuffs.

Even with the bondage or the way he worked you up, he tried to make sure you were comfortable and used a padded pair of fuzzy handcuffs from the stolen shipment of sex toys instead of the real cuffs he used to torture captives. The cuffs were gentle on your wrists but kept a clear power imbalance in place where Feitan got to make most- if not all- decisions.

You were whining loudly at this point, your pleading whimpers akin to the sound of an almost pained squeak given how desperate you were for more than the slow pace. The whines only gained in volume and intensity the longer the delta continued to go at such a slow pace, your nails digging into the soft mattress beneath you. You tried begging several more times but the delta continued to slowly and agonizingly tease you to the point that tears began to stream down your cheeks.

"Feitan."

A low and almost threatening tone broke through your whimpers as you recognized the voice of the apex alpha of the troupe. You honestly felt some surprise that the alpha was interrupting when he had been fairly passive up until that point. Feitan let out a low and menacing growl though it was likely driven more from instinct than from honest aggression.

"... Yeah, Boss?"

"It seems I need to remind you that mating (y/n) is a privilege. If you cause him more distress than pleasure, that privilege will be removed."

"He's fine."

"He's sobbing."

Feitan seemed to respond with honest surprise as if he hadn't even realized how much his teasing was actually impacting you. You whimpered and shivered slightly, your cheeks glistening with tears as you whined from the complete loss of friction when you so desperately wanted it. Every pant was followed by a sniffling whine that seemed to legitimately bother both the delta and apex alpha.

"Damn it," Feitan hissed, seeming to finally realize that you were very upset due to his relentless teasing, "shh..."

"If you cannot treat our omega properly, you will not be permitted to mate him again."

"Not usually gentle. Mates all fight and struggle, too much effort to keep alive before. Forgot (y/n) needs gentle mating."

"Well, make sure you don't forget again."

"Yes, Boss."

~~~~~~~~

You looked up at the male in front of you as you continued to use your mouth to pleasure him. Phinks slowly thrust his hips as you bobbed your head back and forth, hollowing your cheeks as you let your tongue massage the firm cock in your mouth. Clearly the blond was greatly enjoying the sensation of your warm mouth so soothingly working him over.

Either hand was wrapped around the cocks of the other two betas, Kortopi and Bonolenov, letting them thrust their hips and make their own friction. Beneath you, Shalnark held you up by your hips and frantically thrust up into you as he puffed out short moans from the sensation. The three betas and one gamma finally got their chance to mate you, feeling vaguely jealous they were the last of the Troupe to finally get to have you.

The order of mates made it clear to you what the pack hierarchy was. Naturally, Chrollo was the apex alpha so he was the leader of the pack. Next were the lower ranking alphas of the group, Uvogin and Pakunoda, along with their chosen gammas. Then the three deltas, Machi, Franklin, and Feitan, had their individual access to you. Finally were the three betas, Phinks, Bonolenov, and Kortopi, along with the last of the three gammas, Shalnark.

Where Nobunaga and Shizuku got to mate you before the betas, it was primarily due to the fact they had close ties with either of the two alphas who got to mate you after Chrollo. Shalnark didn't have an alpha out of the two that he was particularly close with, so he was put in a group with the three betas instead. He didn't seem all too bothered with the arrangement however, as he quite happily drilled himself up into you while you took care of the three betas.

Phinks let out long moans, louder than the other two betas, but they were moaning as well from your actions. Kortopi whined along with his moans as he panted and stared with lustful eyes. Bonolenov was the quietest of the trio of betas but he was clearly enjoying himself as well, his head tilted back and eyes closed in bliss.

Their increased pulses were easy to feel and you could tell they were getting close to cumming, from the way that the two betas thrust faster into your hands, to the way Shalnark seemed to wildly bury himself inside of you, even to how Phinks bucked his hips. The four males seemed to be consumed by their own pleasure and sought to reach their release, absolutely enamored with you and your actions.

"Fuck yes," Phinks moaned as he finally reached his climax, "swallow it all. Fuck... That's so damn sexy. Was it good? Tell me how good I taste."

"Tastes so good," you whined, licking your lips, "more, please."

Your words, paired with the way you let your mouth hang open and slightly stuck out your tongue, proved to be too much for the other two betas as they both groaned harshly with their own climaxes. The white cum speckled your hands, arms, and cheeks, almost immediately followed by your own release splattering your stomach at the hands of Shalnark. He happily emptied his aching cock into you and seemed to shiver in bliss as he tried to regain some sense of control.

"Let's switch places."

~~~~~~~~

You lay curled up with the apex alpha of the group, tired but satisfied after running the gauntlet that was mating the entire Troupe. There was only one member of the Troupe that you had not mated and that was simply because he never arrived or even showed up when the group met. The absence shouldn't have bothered you simply because he was supposedly always absent, but your sensitive omega brain took it as an insult.

Naturally, your sadness was enough of a motivator for Chrollo that he issued an order to the entire Troupe to make sure the absent member showed up. If any of the Troupe were to see this absentee member, they would make it clear that he was expected to show himself next time they were to meet for a heist. Of course, they wouldn't tell him exactly why he was expected, only that he needed to be present for that gathering.

It seemed like some of the Troupe didn't want him to show up, not overly keen on sharing you in any capacity even with this mysterious member. Part of you wondered if he was really one of the Troupe or if he was just some drifter. You also wondered if his absent behavior would change upon realizing that he was missing out on having an omega as a mate.

Until you meet that person, all you could do was wait and enjoy being the mate of such an attentive pack. With the warm hand of Chrollo rubbing your back and the undoubted affection you got from the Troupe, you figured that you would be rather content. They ensured you were happy and made sure to keep you protected all while you ensured to stay by their sides.

The arrangement was a win-win for all of you, and you couldn't be happier to give your coveted affection to those who rescued you from a terrible fate. All you truly wanted now was to stay with your mates and enjoy the life you would have been deprived of.

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thewrittingpan · 10 months

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Painting Lies 4

(Shalnark, Feitan, Phinks x Reader)

This will be the last chapter on my Tumblr but hopefully not the last chapter! All future chapters will be posted on my Ao3 and I will try to at least announce them on my tumblr. Remember TW/CWs for Gore, Blood, Violence, Kidnapping, Trauma, Mental Heath Episodes and Issues, and more.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

The air was cold, arguably warmer than the bulkhead doors, but still cold. No matter what you wore, the cold front would have torn through the layers and stripped you bare. You held your cat against your chest, shivering as you rubbed your hands over his fur.

The cat was unbothered by the cold, but his eyes were wide so much so that the irises were nearly impossible to notice. He mewed and purred, not squirming or trying to jump away from your grasp. Big eyes traced the leaves falling down, there was an overwhelming ecstasy from the outdoor air.

It’s relieving to not feel the pounding pressure of the three men, yet like a specter you starred unmoving. It was hard to know what you were thinking, everything you thought turned to white noise, lightly buzzing in your ears. The longer you stood the harder you breathed, the thoughts may have been too fast for you to understand consciously, but you finally ran forwards. You darted into the trees stopping for the briefest of moments at the edge of them, you had no idea what you were doing but you didn’t think about it, you couldn’t. Part of you had known that if you stopped you would have become too consumed with fear to move in either direction. Even a fool would have made a decision.

There was no way to know if they had seen you leave, your unaware shock had left you unaware and panicking. They could have been completely unaware, could be right behind you snapping at your heels. You kept picturing them as monsters as you ran, images flashing like strobe lights, fangs, claws, scales, veanom, blood drooling from their teeth. Even though you couldn't prove that it was real or imagined, it still haunts you and drags you fumbling through the woods. Staying may have been better, running may get you killed but, oh how nice it was to feel the cold grass against your feet.

Your soul was rejuvenated, reconnecting with the earth, your lungs may have burned with your nose and cheeks, but our desperation and franticness would keep you warm, hopefully for long enough. Still you clung to the cat, who didn’t seem to care about the world you were dashing by. Your eyes burned, you cried and sobbed into the cat’s fur.

This running, regardless of how it ends, set you free. For the briefest of minutes you were free and away from them. You had a true moment of peace, you were released from the stress, not a single stumble or faultier in your step took it away from you. When your energy inevitably wore down you slumped against a tree, pressing yourself as far into it as you could. This one luckily enough, was large and the trunk caved in an almost den-like way. While absolutely not ideal to rest, you gave in and sat down, quickly catching your breath and wiping the dried crust from your crying away.

The stiff but surprisingly warm den left you sighing, as you curled up into a ball, tucking yourself in as your body heat warmed up the surrounding space. The sweet fluff curled up into you covering your bare feet as you shoved your hands under your arms. It was all a daze, the thoughts had started to roll in, akin to a wave of wasps, something that was horrifying yet something you needed to inspect. It was strange laying in that tree, you were so scared of being found, so frightened of being alone, that it all melted away until it was you and the cat. His unholy amount of fur rubbed off on you, shedding across the trunk, sticking to your skin and clothes. It felt just for a moment as your eyes closed, that everything was normal back home, at your real home.

You rested there for a short while, not fully asleep, but hovering in a semi-aware state. Relaxed enough that your breathing was slow and your heart steadily beat like it was singing a baby to sleep. Something in you knew that you couldn’t collapse into a proper sleep, even though your body longed for it. Even clinging to the cat wasn’t enough to calm you down soon enough, and as the night drew ever closer you sniffled into his neck and wiped your tears with your sleeves.

You lay there blinking up at the sky. It faded from blue to a pale purple, the clouds rolled across the sky, dragging leaves off the trees in their wake. They were wispy and light; they traveled like a breeze, or a dancer gliding across the ballroom floor. It was stunning, regardless of the way your limbs hung limp and you were so cold you hardly were able to move. That sky made you feel warm, it carried warmth through you, kissing away frost nipped fingers and toes. It gently cried against your cheeks with snowdrops.

Snow, you liked watching it fall. It set the tone for great times of closeness. Swaddled up at a fire or at least with a warm mug of tea, coffee, or hot chocolate. You longed for that warmth, the blissful orange glow that crackled and giggled as you turned pages of a book. Fuzzy blankets, loving arms around your waist, holding you against their chest. Wool socks of faux fur slippers. Overused seasonal peppermint, spicy cinnamon, cranberry jams. Something so simple stretched on and pulled from a moment to a feeling that felt like a lifetime worth of love. Being tucked in by someone who loves you. The meowing of your cat screaming for affection.

Being tucked in?

Your cat screaming?

The sky didn’t look that purple anymore, it looked black. Had you fallen asleep? It’s so cold too, why is that? Why are the stars so close? Why are they drifting away with the breeze? What’s on you? Who is there? You thought you were alone?

“Sweet boy?” You called for your cat faintly. Your soft spoken works yanked away with the wind.

It’s so warm? It’s firm? But why does your skin burn when it’s not touching the firm warmth? What is that firmness? Where are you? Where’s your tree? Where’s your bed? Where’s home? What made you leave? Why didn’t you think? Couldn’t you? Didn’t you have any rational thoughts? Any ounce of self preservation? We’re you a suicidal mess? Did you really think that you were smart? That you could escape, did you have a plan? Did you know why you left?

Was it the impulse of seeing the outdoors, maybe it was the grass and it’s aphrodisiac green that lured you away? Though it was hardly even green now, the cold was rotting it, suffocating it. Did you think that the grass felt sympathy for you, or were you just trying to feel someone’s sympathy? Why couldn’t you decide between abuse or neglect? Which is better? Would you rather be that man you had abandoned or left alone in the woods, to suffer until something killed you either way? Even unaware of everything you couldn’t understand yourself or them. No matter how broken you couldn’t understand it, what did they gain?

“I don’t want to be killed too.” Your revelation came like a prayer.

You could see that man. He came in flashes when you thought for too long. When you closed your eyes you saw the wall of tools. You saw his blood, and broken bones. You saw the marks from where he was secured against the table. You whimpered as you thought about it, through the thick wall of cold you tried to pull yourself to move, to open your eyes, but you couldn’t not until that firm warm thing moved away, and you couldn’t feel it anymore.

The sky was dark and heavy with snow, you shook your head and rolled over, shielding your eyes from the snowflakes falling down. It was a gentle snow but the breeze was now a killer. Ripping away the thin memory of your clothes making you feel naked and bare, as you stumbled to your feet snaking like a newborn fawn. You hardly could tell which man it was, but one blond stood a few feet away looking for something, calling out.

You hobbled with strange limp like steps half looking like you were frozen at the knee and unable to move your legs fully, and the other over flexible trying to swing itself out of place. There was nothing, absolutely nothing more horrific to look at in a physically alright person. The adrenalin must have rotted away your insides, or frozen in your blood and in turn ruined your muscles until they were the same as frozen chicken legs. Your frozen hands clutched your new found warm jacket tucking yourself in it before it could melt out of your ice touched hands.

While the snow on the ground was light and thin, the winds swept it from the ground and blew it back up into the air. It was hard to see ahead of you, due to both trees and the newly spawned snow. You were in so much pain, your feet burned and you sobbed as you grabbed onto the man who had been near you. With the wind and your pain his voice had been ripped away from your ears, and though your eyes were blurred and filled with tears you falsely hoped it wasn’t one of the men.

There wasn’t a miracle where you were rescued by a stranger who had stumbled across you. You knew it too deep down in the haze. You had recognized the jacket, you knew the voice even though I’m the moment you couldn’t place it yourself. You knew your cat had cuddles up to him, even though he was shy around strangers. Perhaps you could have ran again and delayed the inevitable, ran again and died a slow death where you froze from the inside out during the first blizzard of the year.

Instead you collapsed into the arms of your largest kidnapper, one of the gentler ones even with his brutality you hadn’t gotten unlucky enough to meet. You couldn’t see his eyes, the pain and heartbreak that shattered him again after the momentarily soft gaze full of care and devotion. He scooped you up into his arms refusing to let you down again, regardless of if you asked or not. He walked forwards screaming out to the other two men, as a mewling cat screamed out about the injustice of the cold and his fear for you.

You kept drifting like snow, awake then asleep, awake again, and asleep. To you it felt like slow blinks, where your eyes were lightly glued together for a few moments until you worked up enough strength to rip them open again, just for the cycle to continue. You hear talking, fast rapid discussions that you couldn’t understand, things you weren’t even aware were happening, no one could eavesdrop on something like that. You wished you wouldn’t wake up, it would be easier that way.

You hated it, so much. Every second was slower than molasses, every interaction like cold water down your neck. Every conversation was like slicing off your own tongue and sucking on it. You were miserable, you debated burning every piece of yourself in the basement that they had splattered across their walls. You wondered if you could slowly starve yourself or mutilate your flesh in a way so gruesome they couldn’t fathom looking at you again. You wondered if you shattered your hands or gave into the intrusive thoughts and stabbed out your eyes or at least one of them, they may grow tired of you and deem you with no worth.

Wouldn’t you rather be useless than trapped? Would you like to be a pet or a victim of your own hand to be free? How much does freedom mean to you? Did you value your own worth more than theirs? Did they value you over themselves? Could they be so addicted to the thought of you that they seaver every piece of yourself apart until they’ve taken every piece of yourself that you wanted?

Your fake room became your two roomed prison, bathroom and bed, the equivalent to your entire life. It was so peaceful at first too, that was sort of shameful to realize. The quietness of the room, the low buzz of the electricity, just subtle enough to keep you content and not annoyed. You had been upgraded from your normal blankets to a heated blanket plus your standard ones. A touching addition for someone who got themself stranded outside during a blizzard on accident. You were lucky they found you when they did, because by the looks of it the snow only got heavier, thicker, and much more wet.

You moved fast or as fast as you could, to grab a pair of fuzzy socks, or well you were desperate enough any pair would do, and some slippers. Your moving to gather something to warm your feet made them realize you were awake. You had curled back up, tucking yourself into a corner half under the desk, trying to keep yourself the least exposed from the air as possible. A clean rug pulled so it kept you for the cold floors, blankets hung in whatever ways you could to trap the warm air in. You had stuffed pillows in there too. If it wouldn’t have gotten humid you would have considered the bathroom and warmed it through a bit of hot water.

You struggled with your migration under the desk. Your skull was pounding and you swayed, nearly collapsing to the floor. It very quickly became more efficient to crawl across the floor and move your things to your cocoon. There was a lot of pain in your thighs, the mussels burned, your skin felt stiff, the legs themselves felt like dead weight, something akin to a puppet’s strings or one of those children’s toys with the string they hold and drag around the room.

You were drowsy but awake, curled up under that desk. The woven fabric of thin sheets started to look like patterns and pictures, faces, and objects. They’d blink into existence pulsing with blotches of light, though they never glowed, but seemed almost like a floating paper that slowly grew until you blinked again and it disappeared. They looked not like people you know but like characters from a show or game, unrealistic ones to be specific, animals from animated movies that stole from cruel kings, or strange robots that were murderers or nurses. The things you saw would raise a red flag to anyone but your current self.

You toyed with the edges of blankets and pulled at the pieces of lint that stuck to them. Picking and plucking. All the while you desperately tried to stay comfortably under the covers, whiteout exposing yourself to the air that still felt freezing. You laid there aware that Shalnark walked into the room, hurrying to your side under the desk, and pulling your arms gently towards him, but you didn’t pay much more attention than that. You saw Phinks and Fetain with heating pads, tea bags, and hot cocoa powder.

“Heart..”

“Poor cognition..”

“Rest..”

Everything was clearly there but you just couldn’t feel it there. Their voices grew fuzzy and their arrival truly only made you question if the hallucinations were getting more realistic. The more you laid there the more you sort of noticed something was wrong with you. It didn’t mean that you felt yourself blinking away the day, and staring at blank objects and seeing paintings, but you could tell something was strange. It was a kind of strange that felt like a dream. A face that you couldn’t quite remember a text you couldn’t read but knew what it said, or a feeling that you hadn’t done something that you were currently doing. In this instance it was a mixture of something not quite being possible, and a feeling that something had already happened.

Yet you just laid there until they slowly took away heat pads, and you slowly became more aware of their voices. It took a long while more than you were aware of, and one they were all too aware of. The floor under the desk had ruined you back for a few days but the warm makeshift hut was so toasty you could have done it all over again. As you became aware of your surroundings, you could also better understand what had happened.

Somehow, overcome in your grief you lost control and embraced the outdoors when that door was left unlocked. You still couldn’t say for sure if you meant to run or not, but you longed for the moving fresh air, sickened but stale air that you now had learned was poisoned by blood and guts. You’ve see gore before, torture porn was a genre of horror in itself, an orchestra of screams and mutilation that on ocasion you mimicked and drew inspiration from. Perhaps seeing it, real and so close to you made you face a piece of yourself that you didn’t know the name of. It was more than fear, it rocked you to the core and twisted your guts like a pair of tongs. Plucking your strings and tugging you towards vomiting, but even then it was so familiar you felt guilty and wrong, yet you knew you weren’t to blame.

You could see the color drained from his skin. The dried blood on the metal table, wrists bound so tight the hands seemed to be blue. It hovered in your mind, and it haunted you. His skin had been drained of its color but you could see where the bruises had turned green and yellow. The bruises were all different shades, some so fresh you felt like they could have been only from you, but some so old and large that you knew even a hospital would be shocked.

It was a void in your chest, perhaps that was the best way to put it. A hollow cavity draped in burlap, inside a steaming pumping oblong sphere, it glowed a warm saturated orange, though the pounding object was a more scarlet tint. You saw it clearly in snapping images, the burlap hoisted up and the bosom folded over, revealing the hollowness, the framework of steel, the inflating bags that grew and shriveled up in time with the pulsing. You saw stitches in the artificial organs, blue standing out against the pale pinks and the red blood.

You fiddled with the wires under your desk as you pictured it. Perhaps it would be something you could create out of spare parts, though maybe it wouldn’t work like you pictured. It stuck with you though. Chicken wire would be too weak for the bones, but it would serve great for connective tissue, tendons and ligaments would need to be something like wire, thread, or yarn, but the mussels would need to be some kind of fabric, something strong unlikely to break yet flexible. You considered silk but it would be too rich for something meant to look natural, and common, the simple solution was cotton. Though you were also faced with the question of cartilage you thought of softer plastics, something that could be easily formed and change, but difficult to decay.

The more that you absorbed the ideas the more it sewed its way into your head, the more you forgot about your predicament, the more you didn’t care that this home wasn’t yours. It may have haunted you still, but in this moment of absurdity and being possessed by your own thoughts you needed to continue with your work the more it forced you to move and sketch. It would work not because you knew it would but because you were so desperate for it, that it needed to work.

Something about art is that it overtakes you, it just forces you to act and create regardless of how well thought out it may or may not be. Once an idea leeches itself inside of someone it doesn’t tend to let go easily. This brain-rotting idea had you scrambling to fill the pages of your sketchbook each one cluttered with bright graphic images, bold and saturated, details drawn in with ever improving line work as your hands slowly recovered from the cold. In your head you could see the threads woven together stretching to move exactly like a real muscle.

You tore apart the drawers, pulled out colored paper, and found some straws from takeout, you took those too. A pale pink slip of paper was in your hands, it was lightweight and you sliced it into thin strips wrapping them up into long tubes. You soaked your hands in glue, pasting them together overlaying them around a stick with the ends bulked up with hot glue. You slowly built a scavenged arm with the junk in your room.

You sipped a warm soup, some kind that was creamy and pale with soft chunks of pale meat and a green vegetable, thin slivers of orange. You’re sure you knew the name once but at the moment your mind was hollow of any thoughts except those related to the arm. It slipped into your dreams, you could see your hands working and sewing. Paper would be combined with some of the plastic trash you had thought of working with. The paper would be layered with thin cloth scraps. The hand and arm combined in your dreams and in reality as you worked on it constantly. You ate and drank sure, but it was pushed off, delayed until the pangs made you moan in pain or until they stopped altogether. In some sense you forgot about the three men, the door was unlocked though you couldn’t ever remember checking it. Your cat and his plump butt would woddle in and out on occasion, resting in your bed, the closet, even the shelves watching and for the most part leaving you alone, content with just observing.

On day two of the haze, the men soon dubbed it, your arm had gone from a plan and a small pile of papers, threads, cloth, and other junk that you scrambled together, to a frame of plastic bones and strips of muscle. Thin and pink, like bacon decorated with ligaments and tendons.

Day three, those muscles were applied to the forearms and upper arms, while the placements needed adjusting and some final securing against their anchor points. The hands were mostly bones, but they had been firmly placed together and some of the smaller connections had been mapped out.

Day four the muscles were anchored in place and the hands were bulked up with their flesh. Thin coating sheets of a thin connective tissue substitute, had been prepped and some of the major arteries and veins had been completed as well.

Day five had seen the total completion of blood vessels and muscle placement in the limb, the connective tissue and fat had been applied in a majority of the project and the skin was in the process of being colored and matched to have a correct look to it. You fell asleep pulling at the connections admiring how they moved correctly.

Day six had been the day of installing the skin and a final fatty layer. In some ways the skin was applied like a sock, and in some places it was secured with adhesives or thread. You watched it move, trimmed and altered the measurements of the skin covering. The seams looked almost bruised in the dim lighting of sunset.

Day seven was additions of nails and other details, small hairs, moles, freckles, scars, and normal discoloration. Perhaps you had been looking at it too long as the daylight faded but the seams in the skin looked lighter, more of a pink tinted white of a scar on pale skin, then the sight differences in the original fabric of the covering.

Day eight you corrected the colors and details on and off the shoulder. The muscles that connected to the humerus from the torso sprouted out from it and you gently bundled them in a loose netting for easier storage. The hand was studied from every angle you could think of details marked I. The notes you had been writing, and then the arm was placed up on a shelf. You went to bed before the sun set that day, the door to your room was wide open possibly for the last few days, it didn’t matter. As you laid there, so tired that you slowly seemed to forget how to move. You gazed at it proudly even as your eyelids suffocated your vision. Its fingers twitched, tapping lightly on the shelves, slowly, again and again until you fell asleep.

When you woke your neck was stiff and your back sore but you slid out of bed like sludge. Pooling the sheets on the floor, small missed scraps of paper and thread were either covered by the fabric wave or swept away with the wind. As you zombie walked into the kitchen you caught stares from the three kidnappers. To them it was a surprise you had awoken with the sunrise let alone left your not-so-much-of-a-prison room. Though your pain from restless work was mildly debilitating as you burned your hands with hot water to relieve some of the stiffness in your hands and fingers. You were young so you couldn’t be sure, but you wondered if this is sort of what arthritis felt like.

Through your yawning you couldn’t argue as Shalnark pulled you away with a towel towards the couch. He spoke softly and lovingly as he rubbed your hands and wrists, as the tv was switched by Phinks to something only you really enjoyed. You heard the cabinets open and close, so it was guaranteed that Feitain had taken your breakfast upon himself.

“You’re still weak aren’t you?”

“You should eat slowly, but as much as you can.”

“We don’t want you vomiting-“

“We can always get you something small too, so you don’t throw up from eating too much.”

It was back and forth between the two blonds. While you knew they argued from time to time they finished sentences before they were halfway complete, shifted to slightly different things without a break in their linguistic flow. While Shalnark took time to focus on small hygienic notes, Phinks looked at the physical well-being of your body, and from the kitchen Feitain used a knife to complete your nutritional needs.

“You have pin pricks all over your fingers!”

“You need to walk more.”

“Eat light first.”

“They’re bruised!”

“You’re ready to collapse at any moment!”

“Need more vitamins!”

“We’re glad you're okay.”

So you sat with them, walking back and forth across the room, trimming and painting your nails with a clear polish, snacking on cutely shaped octopus sausages. You showed them the arm, pulling and poking at the muscles, running your fingers across the smooth skin. It was a pride and joy of yours, and it looked so lifelike for your first attempt! Words and explanations tumbled like water out of your mouth, listing off ideas and things to improve it, how these could be something realistic like a large puppet. Though the tv buzzed quietly as it grew dark, the four of you dozed off in the living room, scattered across the floor with pillows and blankets, and the cat taking up the role of pillow himself.

Sometimes, like this day, it felt normal. Like a home and a family that had always been your own. The kidnapping hadn’t happened in this living dream. You still had your makeshift little art studio thing that was set up in your living room, and the window of your apartment may have had too many layers of white paint that the window easily got jammed when you tried to open it. That self you had stolen from a neighbor’s trash may have been stained and kissed by a few stickers but it still had that look that reminded you of your childhood bedroom. Instead of the couch you could pull yourself onto a cheap futon, one too firm to be good to sleep on but one you commonly woke on in the morning. Being awake in the silence made you realize it all more than you wanted.

The tv eventually turned off as you laid there exhausted but unable to fully fall asleep. “Feitan…” you whispered, not waiting for a response. “I don’t know why I’m here. I can’t figure out if I hate you or myself, or anyone else. I don’t want this, you know that, but even though I want to scream, I like these moments like today. It feels like a bad dream, but also like a good one. I don’t know what I’m saying, you’re probably asleep anyways.” You rolled over smacking yourself into the backrest of the couch, it was easier to hide from your embarrassment than anything else. “I’m an idiot.” You groaned into the cushions as your cat climbed up into your back, his claws gently digging into your waist.

You rolled and turned, your arm, crafted to perfection, laid perched on the table. Its fingers tapped and wiggled a rhythms. You held it. Feeling its muscles move and squirm as it holds gently onto your arm. Like a newborn you cradle it and wander down the hall, slipping away from the three men all asleep. You feel light, as if gliding across the floor or hovering a few inches above it. Nothing makes you consider going back to bed as your cat slowly trails after you. His wide eyes look up at you as you juggle the basement door’s handle, and lead yourself down the stairs.

Your work station was left mostly untouched, the table pushed back a few inches, the pile of paint tubes tidy in their box. Some of your notes had fallen from their spots on the wall but you ignored them and approached the table where the man still laid.

He gasped for air struggling to breathe through his panicking as he saw you approach. “Who are you!” He yelled weakly, and restlessly, you hardly understood him through the heavy breaths. “Get away from me! Just let me die please!”

His arm, the one that was broken, was horribly infected. It was bright red and swollen, the bone was now poking out through inflamed muscle and skin, now covered and leaking puss. In the furthest parts of his hand his fingers had turned an almost black purple, and he was struggling to move most of the arm.

The arm would need to be removed.

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