Unfortunately Im In Love With Your Feitan

Unfortunately im in love with your Feitan 😔

I’m so sorry to hear that, stay strong <3

Lies, Sleeping

Mahito x Reader // word count 2.3k

When you are asleep, Mahito can pretend that you do not hate him. He doesn’t know when he started caring about that - just that he doesn’t want you to wake up.

Tags/warnings: dark content, noncon, somnophilia, kidnapped reader, choking to unconsciousness, Mahito definitely has a collection of your underwear stashed somewhere, Mahito having Feelings He Does Not Entirely Understand™️

Mahito thinks he might like you best when you are asleep. When you are awake, you tell him in a million little ways, both verbal and silent, that you hate him, and he does not like this at all. Hatred is something he relishes, when it comes from other humans, but not from you. He knows that you will change your mind, eventually, if he keeps trying to change it, but he is not patient, and when you are asleep, he can pretend that things are already perfect. That you will wake up and remember where you are and smile, instead of staring at the ceiling with that awful, hollow look in your eyes. That you will not flinch or jump or yell when he touches you. (When did he stop liking that? Probably when he started trying to touch you gently, being careful not to grab or pinch or hurt like he did in the beginning, and found that you hated it just as much as the pain.)

Tonight, you are sleeping on your side, on top of the little white mattress with only one stain that he dragged all the way here just for you. Your head rests on the pillow that he found for you today, and that he will find a case for tomorrow. Under the fluffy blue blanket he gave you, you are wearing a gray t-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama pants that turned out to be far too large. Under the pajama pants, you are wearing a pair of black lacy underwear that he took, brand-new, from the shelf of a store you used to like shopping at. He does not know where or how to wash your clothes, so when you are done with these, he will find you new pajamas and dispose of the old ones. He will keep the underwear, but he will pretend to get rid of them, because he has learned that doing otherwise makes you angry. He doesn’t understand this - if you aren’t using them any more, why does it matter what he does with them? - but he doesn’t mind playing pretend if it makes you happy.

He sits cross-legged in his hammock for some time, watching you. You always fall asleep facing away from him, but you toss and turn during the night. He can see your face now, and your mouth is slightly ajar, your blanket draped just-so over the rise of your hip. If you woke up now, you would see him watching you and turn away, so he does his best to be quiet as he stands up. Slowly, he approaches your mattress and sits down beside you. You must be sleeping deeply, because you do not so much as stir when he pulls your blanket aside. It’s not surprising. Mahito does not sleep, so he does not know how exhaustion feels, but he knows what it looks like, and has seen it often on your face. When he first brought you here, you refused to sleep at all, until your eyes were empty and underlined by deep, dark shadows. Now, it’s caught up to you. He touches your cheek, and still, you do not stir.

A nice thought: perhaps you are sleeping well tonight because you have come to like him. It’s certainly not true, but it feels good, so he tries to believe it. He fails.

You make a little noise and roll over. Mahito follows you, sliding silently to the other side of your mattress. He could look at you like this all night, drinking you in while you dream of things he hopes are equally nice. If he were staring like this while you were awake, you would try to cover yourself with your blanket, and look up in horror when he snatched it away, and he thinks it is lovely that you can’t do that now. He raises his hand, and traces his finger lightly down the line of your waist, over your shirt, stopping at the waistband of your pants. It is very loose, and he does not really want to stop, and you do not move, so he fishes his hand inside and hooks his finger around the edge of your underwear where it clings to your hip.

He uses his other hand to pull your pants down your legs, carefully, just enough to expose your behind and the tops of your thighs. If you wake up now, he does not know exactly what you’ll do or say, because he is trying not to think about it anymore. As long as you are not awake, he can pretend that you want him to look at you, and that you enjoy looking at him every bit as much.

Do you think I’m pretty? Mahito remembers asking you this, not very long ago. If you’d said no, that would have been okay. He would have asked you what sort of things you thought were pretty, and changed however you desired him to change. He’s not particularly attached to the form he takes now - it would have been easy to make you happy then, if you’d just told him how.

But you did not say no. You did not even look at him. You stared at the ground, and spoke quietly, barely moving your lips. Why does it matter?

That had made him angry, and he doesn’t like it when you do that to him. You don’t like it either, because it makes him do things that he usually wouldn’t (not to you, at least). And now, with you sleeping, neither of you have to worry about it.

But just looking is not going to be enough. Not now that he’s done this. He feels his core rouse and stir, the thing he created just for you growing hard by some means he has yet to wholly understand, something more than a simple rush of blood. He is not human, so it is dizzying to feel like one, to feel his body tense in the same ways that theirs do, to feel desire in ways his being is not meant to hold. He wonders, sometimes, if he made this happen. If his curiosity about this feeling, the one that makes humans squeeze their bodies together and reach desperately towards each others souls, was so strong that it became the feeling itself.

You do not think this. You do not think he can feel the things you feel. If you did, you would understand why he wants to be pretty to you. Why he steals you things you like and lets you turn away from him when you get that hollow look in your eyes. Why he gets angry when you do not want him.

He tugs your underwear down your thighs. He is not as gentle as he was with your blanket or your pants, and a louder noise comes out of your mouth, but he does not pause. You are perfect like this, so pretty and so easy to play pretend with. Your slit is not wet, but he puts his finger in his mouth and draws it out coated with saliva and runs it between yours folds, and it is not all that different. You are making too many little noises to ignore, but he tries to ignore it anyways, because it is all so nice like this, and when it ends, everything will fall apart. He thinks you are more beautiful than anything he will ever make, and he wants you to think the same of him, and he knows you never will - but right now, he can tell himself that you do.

Just as he thinks this, your eyelids flutter open. Your gaze is blurry for a moment. You look at him. You look down at yourself, at the clothes he slipped down your legs moments before, at his hand resting between them. Then, your eyes are wide, full of the horror he has already seen far too many times.

“No.” Mahito can hear the desperation in his own voice. He grabs your shoulder, rolls you onto your stomach, and slides on top of you, pressing his palm over your mouth just as you open it. “Go back to sleep.” You are moving now, thrashing and shaking your head back and forth, trying to dislodge his hand. “Sleep.” He buries his head into the crook of your neck, and kisses you there, as softly as he can. “We were having such a nice time…it doesn’t have to be over…” Your arms are free, flailing like the lovely little creations he once tried to show you, that you gagged at the sight of. He does not want to have to hold them down. “Please.”

This is not how it should be. You should be on your back, so he can see your face, with your mouth parted like it was when you slept, with your eyes wide but not with fear. With your eyes glowing and alive, lighting up the way they did sometimes before he brought you here, but for him. You have been on your back with him before, but your face did not do the things it was supposed to do, and he had to press your wrists to the floor. He didn’t like that, but he wasn’t upset that time, because you still felt so nice - you would feel like that now, if he took you, and he is hard between your legs, but you are pressing them tight like you want him gone, and you are going to ruin it all -

He pulls his hand from your mouth and pushes it down on the back of your head, pressing your lips hard into your pillow before he can hear the things that you’re not supposed to say, and slides his other hand between your throat and your mattress, and squeezes your neck - you are so close to perfect now, and your body is soft and warm and wet, and if he doesn’t keep you like this everything will be ruined. He squeezes harder and moves himself to where he needs - needs - to be and thrusts frantically inside you, as if you might soon slip away, and -

It all slows down, the struggle momentarily forgotten, and he lets out a sigh between lips turned up at the corners, eyes wide and bright, so bright that they might scare you if you saw him. Everything is as it should be. You seem to tug him into you, and he closes his eyes, and there is nothing in his mind but the desire for more, which barely comes from his mind at all, and makes him rut into you and not think about anything at all. “Mine.” He barely hears himself say it, but he feels it, the way he reaches into you and imagines he can feel you reaching for him. His hands tighten instinctively in your hair and around your throat, and you are still and quiet but he can see you perfectly with his eyes closed, exactly as he wants you to be. Again. Again. Again. He shoves deeper into you, reaches in until he brushes against that wall at the end and oh. You are too still, and after all this he finds that does want your eyes open, because he is thinking about now and not what comes after.

He takes his hands from your neck and your head, and wraps them under your arms, and buries his face in you, breathes you in and scrapes teeth and tongue against your neck, and oh - it always ends so quickly. Maybe it won’t always, but you feel so good, you make him feel so good, and there’s nowhere else for it to go. He can feel it building up inside him, pulling him deeper into you, hips crashing into yours over and over again, and yes. It is going to end and he does not want it to end but he does. You stir beneath him, and he presses his entire self tight against you, and hears the breath and disoriented noise spill out of you. “Mine.”

The end-feeling squeezes tight in his core, and he feels his mouth fall open as it bursts forth and shoots through him - he’d hold onto it forever if he could, but he can’t, but he can hold onto you, and he does. You are awake now but he does not mind at all, because you are still and perfect beneath him as he releases everything inside you.

Pretty thing. Pretty, pretty. He wants to stay right where he is forever and ever. He presses his face into the softness of you skin, and inhales deeply, although he does not really need to breath at all. There is a pleasant haze in his body and mind. You are awake, but you do not speak, and he rests on top of you and inside you for a long, long time, imagining the nice things you could say when you finally open your mouth.

You don’t say them, of course. You don’t say them when he forces himself to move and lies down on the hard ground beside you. You don’t say them when he takes your hand, which is limp and cold in his grasp. You don’t say them any of the times he tells you that he’s all done, that you can go back to sleep. You just lie there, face down, obviously awake but acting like you’re not.

Mahito does not like this, but he is still playing pretend just a little bit, so he doesn’t mind as much as he usually would. Tomorrow he will find you a case for your pillow, and new clothes. If you don’t like them he might be upset, but he imagines a scenario in which you sit up and thank him when he returns, and let him hold you without getting sad or scared. It’s a pleasant thought. He thinks you’re very nice for keeping yourself still and quiet, and letting him think about the things he wants to be true.

in this baeutiful world. straight up "enjoing it". and by "it". haha. well. let's justr say. My frands

'this too shall pass' well can it pass fucking faster??

I want you all to know that I am working on a Mahito Halloween fic. It’s getting much longer than anticipated and I don’t know when it will end. But if I don’t get it out by Halloween y’all have permission to kick me in the shins

i experienced a bad emotion so i won't be functioning for at least 5 business days. hope you understand