Feitan X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Hi, just wanted to send this in! Headcanons for two characters of your choosing plus Chrollo about their reactions after their s/o’s death? Maybe like the grieving process. Bonus points if their death was caused in/directly by them 😈 angst angst angst

Hi, thank you for the ask! Ooh this is quite sad, I think I have two others that might be interesting to write for here

Chrollo, Feitan, Kurapika reactions to their s/o's death (inadvertently caused by them)

Chrollo

He had pushed you too far this time, telling you to go on the mission by yourself since you kept insisting you could do it. How foolish of him to let you go without thinking a certain chain user might be in the way. You hadn't returned after many hours. The mission shouldn't have taken that long, and the rest of the troupe was also agitated

The search started as soon as the sun began to rise. The troupe members scattered throughout the city to see if you were accidentally sleeping somewhere and forgot to come back. However, Chrollo stumbled upon your lifeless body in a rubbish dump. How fitting, you were from Meteor City, a junkyard.

"Y/n, are you sleeping?" He laughed, but as he kept calling out, you weren't responding. Touching your face, he felt his heart stop. You were cold. "Y/n," he breathed out. The sun's rays caress your face as if you were reached by the heavens. But this moment was nothing peaceful inside Chrollo's heart.

The troupe returned and saw Chrollo carrying you. The rest of them asked what had happened, he remained calm however. "We lost another it seems," he says quietly. Though he looks composed, the entire room fills with bloodlust that fades just as quickly as it came. He asks to be left alone and the rest of the spiders oblige.

Chrollo does not show his emotions to others, especially because as a leader he must be strong. But he breaks down, he had failed his role in keeping the spiders, no, you safe. Though revenge is something he wants, at the moment he wants nothing more than for you to hear his apologies of not keeping you safe

Feitan

He knew he was rough, that was why at first he didn't want to be in a relationship with anyone, especially someone outside of the troupe. You were just a regular person, you didn't know about anything related to the troupe nor nen, you were fragile. But maybe it was that fragility and that brightness that drew him to you.

This time however, you found out about his business with the troupe. You were upset at him hiding this fact from you, and this sparked a fight between the two of you. Feitan warned you to calm down, but it was really him that should have calmed down because the minute you threatened to let the officials know he quickly aimed his hand for your neck.

Had you been any other nen user or opponent he was used to, you would have survived and maybe had a sore throat for a few months. However, he punctured your neck, causing blood to spill and for you to splurt out a weak "Feitan" before slipping to your knees. Ater a split second he realized what he had just done.

"Y-y/n," it was the first time you had seen any emotion from him. It was fear. His eyes grew wide, he held you up, trying to keep you from falling. You tried tell him sorry, but blood kept spilling everywhere and your words were reduced to nonsense choking. Feitan kept telling you to shut up and that you had to stay alive.

It was an agonizing two minutes before you lost consciousness and eventually stopped breathing. Feitan stood up, not knowing what to do with your body. He was used to cleaning up corpses with what his job demanded, but this time he was lost. The next time the troupe saw him, he was a lot colder than usual. No one knew what had happened, other than that when Phinks asked where Feitan's lover was Feitan gave him a punch but his eyes held sadness more than anger

Kurapika

He shouldn't have prioritized his path of revenge over the lives of people he cared about. Sure, the Kurta seemed to call to him to avenge their deaths, but those that were living were also calling to him to not go down the path of destruction. He should've listened a little harder to those that were still with him in the physical world.

Being someone from Meteor City, someone that was close to the troupe didn't exactly translate to you being sympathetic to the spiders. But an argument got heated, and he lost control. You were trying to get him to stop his fight to hunt for the rest of the Kurta eyes and even the troupe but he thought you didn't understand his pain. Nen was involved soon enough.

Though you tried to fight him, he was skilled. Being Kurta made Kurapika much stronger too even in terms of sheer physical strength. He couldn't use Emperor Time on you, but that didn't stop him from using his chains in general. When you thought he was done with his chains, you rushed to restrain him from continuing his anger but he only grabbed for a nearby pen.

The anger blinded him from seeing what had just happened. The next thing he remembered after you told him that he should stop his revenge was that he had a pen in his hand that was stabbed into your chest. You were coughing violently, eyes wide and brimming with tears. You told him you were sorry and that you should've understood him better. Weakly, you reached up to his face, meeting his red eyes that soon faded back to brown. But you were too weak, your eyes closed and you slumped.

"No," Kurapika breathed out, "No no no no, y/n, y/n don't leave me," he shook you, holding you up and trying to get you to wake up. His actions took someone's life once again, another burden to shoulder. He knew his anger could be deadly, but never did he think it could kill you. How was he to forgive himself any longer when he was already feeling the anguish of his clan? Kurapika cried as he held you, repeating apologies and refusing to let go of you.

Yandere themes

Hunter x Hunter_Phantom Troupe_Masterlist

Feitan Portor x gn! reader

Response

"You slept well?"

A question that should be relatively easy to answer. Even if one would consider the quality of their slumber to be hard to put into words, or determine if it was a positive experience or not, that question shouldn’t leave someone with a tight throat. Locking eyes with your captor for a second, you pondered about how you should answer. Answering truthfully, as if it wasn’t the cold-hearted man who kidnapped you that was standing in front of you, and instead someone you’d deem close to you like a friend, actually was pretty easy; No, you slept horribly. Insomnia already had been in your life for a while, but this was getting on a new level.

Your heart was always beating so hard you could feel it all across your body. Every little sound made you flinch. And the blinking, red light of the camera in the upper corner of the room had you frozen, scared to move. Under these circumstances (and more) it was obviously hard to relax, which is why you only ever were able to fall asleep when you were absolutely exhausted and could barely keep your eyes open. (Unless Feitan felt generous enough to drug your drink with sleep medicine) Still, you rarely fell into a deep slumber. And instead your situation plagued you even further in dreamland. What you had hoped could be an escape from the “love“ of your captor revealed itself as something just as horrific, maybe even more so.

On good nights, your nightmares simply replayed some scenarios you felt uncomfortable in, on bad nights, they replayed scenes you prayed to only witness in fiction. And on the worst nights, your fears of what else could happen, no matter how silly the thought was, welcome themselves in as well. You started cursing out that part of your brain that was responsible for the images of your inner eyes for it being just as much of a sadist as the one demanding you to call him your lover.

Lover.

It was clear to you that Feitan‘s attraction to you was more obsession than anything more innocent and pure like “love“. You dared to utter those thoughts to him only once before. The way his eyes wrinkled with joy at your words made you regret your words instantly, you couldn‘t even begin to guess why he was smiling befind the big collar. Was he amused by your guts to dare say such a thing to his face? Was he content with the word you used to describe his feelings towards you? Was he imagining your face twisting in pain as he punished you for your boldness? It never came clear to you, and that‘s why you went back to walking on egg shells around the man, more on your toes than ever. Oh, how you wished you could read him better, or he would reveal more of his wants, you believed it would make your life- no, this wasn‘t a life- your stay much easier. And maybe a good rest, with nothing but an endless void of nothingness in your mind, would find its way to you. A fantasy like this was all the hope you could get, so you took it, wholeheartedly.

Feitan raised a brow at your hesitation. This was a simple ‘yes‘ or ‘no‘ question, answering shouldn’t take so long even if you were an idiot sometimes. He was not oblivious to the war going on inside your head wether you should speak the truth or not. That was exactly the reason why he thought you were an idiot. The hand sliding over your waist had you snapping out of your thoughts and your gaze back to the black-haired laying next to you on the bed. The soft circles of his thumb over your exposed skin was a huge contrast to the cuts and bruises he gifted you before. So much of a clear contrast that you got the feeling he was urging you into choosing one answer over the other. A hint of how you could make the day into a good one for yourself. A hint of what he wanted.

You took it, clutching the shimmer of hope in your hand as you sighed, “Yeah, I slept real good.“, your smile was small, but present. You even made sure to wrinkle your eyes just a tiny bit to make it look real. And you really hoped that would be enough happiness, even if it was faux, to satisfy him and his sick, twisted views. His lips closed into a straight line, face free from his seemingly constant frown, and you cheered for yourself in victory. You allowed him to pull you closer to him. If this is what you had to endure to have one good day, then so be it. You sighed again, this time with a real, relieved smile, snuggling closer to your ‘lover‘ to make him think you really meant it, just so you can relax for once. The hand that didn‘t rest on your waist crawled up into your hair, fingers combing through your locks. Okay, maybe putting your hand on his chest is a good way to respond.

One harsh tug on your hair destroyed all the hope you had, and you couldn‘t help but gasp in shock. With your hair in his tight grip, he angled your head so you‘d be looking at him. There it was, the frown. But! But didn‘t you respond the way he wanted? He was always the one who wanted to pretend what was going on in this house was okay, and saying otherwise was just asking for punishment. So why-

“You lying.“, oh, “I watched you sleep. Could barely relax your face.“, a smile edged on his face, “Now, what do liars deserve?“

Don‘t lie.

You‘ve written this in bold font in your mental guidebook. It was filled with rules and routines you learned were essential when living with Feitan and you hoped you would still remember the next day. With how much you started to dissociate and started to forget more and more little things, it truly was a concern for you.

‘‘Don‘t lie‘‘. You were sure that was one of the very first rules you noted. From the very day he took you. He made sure to make it very clear that lying would do nothing to save you, instead landing you a VIP seat in the basement. You‘ve seen it before, way too often actually. That gory, gory basement. It was the highlight of your nightly nightmares, as you always feard you‘d end up down there for reasons other than doing the laundry.

Now that you thought about it, you wondered why you still thought a lie to be a good choice. You knew he can tell when you are not truthful. That should naturally lead to you always to tell the truth, right? If only. You remembered the last time you told him your true thoughts right to his face. At the end of it, you had the corners of your mouth stitched up into a wide, painfully wide, smile. “No, I am NOT happy. How can anything you‘ve done to me make me feel any type of joy?!“ He seemed to see that as a challenge. You remembered having the black threat tightly secured in your flesh for weeks, until you finally figured out how to make him take them out. Simply smile at him. (More like crinkle your eyes a bit to seem a little more genuine.)

You still had bruises where the threat was laying and digging into your skin weeks later.

Lying didn‘t do good. Being truthful didn‘t do good. What else was left?

Yandere themes

Hunter x Hunter_Phantom Troupe_Masterlist

Feitan Portor x gn! reader

Response

"You slept well?"

A question that should be relatively easy to answer. Even if one would consider the quality of their slumber to be hard to put into words, or determine if it was a positive experience or not, that question shouldn’t leave someone with a tight throat. Locking eyes with your captor for a second, you pondered about how you should answer. Answering truthfully, as if it wasn’t the cold-hearted man who kidnapped you that was standing in front of you, and instead someone you’d deem close to you like a friend, actually was pretty easy; No, you slept horribly. Insomnia already had been in your life for a while, but this was getting on a new level.

Your heart was always beating so hard you could feel it all across your body. Every little sound made you flinch. And the blinking, red light of the camera in the upper corner of the room had you frozen, scared to move. Under these circumstances (and more) it was obviously hard to relax, which is why you only ever were able to fall asleep when you were absolutely exhausted and could barely keep your eyes open. (Unless Feitan felt generous enough to drug your drink with sleep medicine) Still, you rarely fell into a deep slumber. And instead your situation plagued you even further in dreamland. What you had hoped could be an escape from the “love“ of your captor revealed itself as something just as horrific, maybe even more so.

On good nights, your nightmares simply replayed some scenarios you felt uncomfortable in, on bad nights, they replayed scenes you prayed to only witness in fiction. And on the worst nights, your fears of what else could happen, no matter how silly the thought was, welcome themselves in as well. You started cursing out that part of your brain that was responsible for the images of your inner eyes for it being just as much of a sadist as the one demanding you to call him your lover.

Lover.

It was clear to you that Feitan‘s attraction to you was more obsession than anything more innocent and pure like “love“. You dared to utter those thoughts to him only once before. The way his eyes wrinkled with joy at your words made you regret your words instantly, you couldn‘t even begin to guess why he was smiling befind the big collar. Was he amused by your guts to dare say such a thing to his face? Was he content with the word you used to describe his feelings towards you? Was he imagining your face twisting in pain as he punished you for your boldness? It never came clear to you, and that‘s why you went back to walking on egg shells around the man, more on your toes than ever. Oh, how you wished you could read him better, or he would reveal more of his wants, you believed it would make your life- no, this wasn‘t a life- your stay much easier. And maybe a good rest, with nothing but an endless void of nothingness in your mind, would find its way to you. A fantasy like this was all the hope you could get, so you took it, wholeheartedly.

Feitan raised a brow at your hesitation. This was a simple ‘yes‘ or ‘no‘ question, answering shouldn’t take so long even if you were an idiot sometimes. He was not oblivious to the war going on inside your head wether you should speak the truth or not. That was exactly the reason why he thought you were an idiot. The hand sliding over your waist had you snapping out of your thoughts and your gaze back to the black-haired laying next to you on the bed. The soft circles of his thumb over your exposed skin was a huge contrast to the cuts and bruises he gifted you before. So much of a clear contrast that you got the feeling he was urging you into choosing one answer over the other. A hint of how you could make the day into a good one for yourself. A hint of what he wanted.

You took it, clutching the shimmer of hope in your hand as you sighed, “Yeah, I slept real good.“, your smile was small, but present. You even made sure to wrinkle your eyes just a tiny bit to make it look real. And you really hoped that would be enough happiness, even if it was faux, to satisfy him and his sick, twisted views. His lips closed into a straight line, face free from his seemingly constant frown, and you cheered for yourself in victory. You allowed him to pull you closer to him. If this is what you had to endure to have one good day, then so be it. You sighed again, this time with a real, relieved smile, snuggling closer to your ‘lover‘ to make him think you really meant it, just so you can relax for once. The hand that didn‘t rest on your waist crawled up into your hair, fingers combing through your locks. Okay, maybe putting your hand on his chest is a good way to respond.

One harsh tug on your hair destroyed all the hope you had, and you couldn‘t help but gasp in shock. With your hair in his tight grip, he angled your head so you‘d be looking at him. There it was, the frown. But! But didn‘t you respond the way he wanted? He was always the one who wanted to pretend what was going on in this house was okay, and saying otherwise was just asking for punishment. So why-

“You lying.“, oh, “I watched you sleep. Could barely relax your face.“, a smile edged on his face, “Now, what do liars deserve?“

Jaws.

Yan Feitan x GN Reader.

Synopsis: Feitan’s sense of humor is as you expected.

Warnings: Yandere themes, violence against bugs lol, there is someone in the basement but that comes with the FeitanPackage™️, and kidnapping.

Word Count: 500.

inspired by these headcanons by @holydayaria <333 (if you want me to take this down, please let me know!)

*~*~*~*

Feitan, whenever he is not angry at you or someone or something else, anything else, is not as bad, but he still has his horrible moments.

This isn’t the life you wanted, in any capacity, from the heatless nights where you are shivering under a blanket thin enough to be a sheet of paper to when you are forced to sit on your tiptoes for hours on end when you are disobedient, which is quite the umbrella term when it comes to Feitan’s rules, which are both hidden and not. Or right now, when the dead mosquitos, still smelling of both blood and bug spray, are on your food, their eyes looking up at you like you were a god, with their proboscises flattened and covered in blood. He finds it funny, as he stares at you from across the small dining table if his snickering tells you anything, but you certainly don’t.

You are more disgusted than scared right now, and isn’t that a good thing, kind of? At least Feitan is trying to joke around, as cruel as his said “jokes” can be, and not pulling on your ear. So, you keep quiet, so you can retain this veil of somewhat funniness for a bit longer.

You pluck the mosquitos one by one out of the microwave dinner until little splotches of blood are all that remain. You then, with your plastic fork, try your best to take out the bits stained with red, placing them on your napkin. But after a few more moments of looking down at the food, you close your eyes and attempt to take a bite, when Feitan suddenly grabs your wrist.

He’s… scolding you for attempting to eat such a thing and risk getting sick, and should you be grateful?

After a few reprimanding words, he sits back down, taking the tray along with him, saying that he will eat it because he doesn't like wasting food.

At least you are not being forced to eat it, and you become ever more grateful when Feitan says he will let you eat the leftovers (unseasoned chicken tenders and fries) that he brought back after a mission of hunting down someone, a witness of something or another, someone who is now in the basement. You know not because Feitan told you but because in the dead of night, when you were supposed to be asleep, you heard something go down the basement stairs with a thunk with every step, along with a groan of pain.

The microwave beeps several times, too loud and always somehow smoking regardless of what is put in it, but you take out the food and sit down to eat it.

When you see a centipede dangling right before your eyes, you scream, and Feitan, as always, reacts by snickering away, not eating his food at all.

Morningstar's Road.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader x Yan Feitan.

Synopsis: Your routine is average, to say the least. But due to Chrollo’s orders, Feitan cannot snatch you up yet – so he simply mirrors your behaviors instead for self-satisfaction. His boss does so too.

Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, kidnapping, a few suggestive actions, manipulation, some descriptions anxiety/depression for the reader, animal death, and violence/some gore.

Word Count: 4.4k.

*~*~*~*

Feitan is so close to you that he can just about hear your beating heart. He could only see the back of your head, hair loose and surely will be knotted by the morning sun, but he can smell you whenever he is this close.

You always smell so nice, but for some reason, you smell even better – of that floral-scented oil you put on your neck and wrists before you go to bed. Maybe you added extra because it is the weekend.

You are on your right side – the fetal position was always your favorite – and hugging a plush that resembles your childhood cat. This was typical behavior for you; you had cried for days when your older sister called to say he had passed from old age. You weren’t weeping anymore, but you were when you saw the stuffed animal near the window of that dollar store you pass by daily on your way to work. You named it Silky, the same as the real thing, and tuck it in whenever you are in and out of bed. Feitan somewhat wished he could get the same treatment, to be in your arms as you sleep and to feel just a hint of your comforting warmth.

Feitan brought his own blanket.

It isn’t pastel pink like your sheets or your pillowcases or your pajamas and it has holes from moths and years of being stretched as he grew and his fights came to have higher and higher stakes.

If he had recalled correctly the bloodstains from the first time he was stabbed were just under the giant white skull pattern, although since most of the blanket is black it wouldn’t show even in the brightest of lights.

If he had recalled correctly the bloodstains from the first time it was stolen are still there too; on the bottom right corner.

“This type of nen won’t last forever, Fei.”

Feitan turns his neck, his bandana doing little to hide the slight scowl on his face. “I know.”

“Now, now… I never said you did not.” Chrollo responds while giving a small smile, still having the Bandit’s Secret in his right hand while your diary is held in his left. He turns to the next page while Feitan goes back to snuggling up beside you.

If Chrollo had a third arm, he could have the rest of your coffee you didn’t finish and left in your fridge. There is a lipstick stain, the color of that tint you often sport when in your office space. A light taffy color, he muses. 

Very fitting.

“I simply wanted you not to fall asleep too slow or too deep, we do have to leave by dawn after all.”

Feitan said no answer. Chrollo is used to that – a little too used to it, maybe, but Feitan has always stood out from fellow people from Meteor City even by the Phantom Troupe’s standards.

“Same oil?” He asks, and on cue, Feitan gives a loud sniffing sound.

“Yes.”

“Cute.”

Around your waist Feitan’s left arm lays, and his right hand holds the blanket tighter than a noose.

If Chrollo were to guess, if Feitan had a third arm he would put two of its fingers on your lips to feel how soft they were. Chrollo had done so before, but his friend hadn’t. He almost chuckles at the irony. The member of the Troupe the most intimate when it comes to matters of anatomy and torture felt that his fingertips having pink on them was a line he could not cross. It’s almost funny in a way. It’s adorable.

“Boss.”

“Hm?”

“For just a while,” Feitan starts. His tone is shy, like a little boy about to ask his classmate crush for their hand in marriage. “Can you read it to me?”

“‘It’?” Chrollo teases slightly, yet he knows what Feitan is talking about.

“The thing in your hand.”

“‘Thing’?”

Feitan huffs a bit and follows it up with a sigh.

“The… diary. Please.”

*~*~*~*

I think I’m getting worse and wondering if I have ever been happy with myself.

There is this girl that sits at the desk across from mine, Lyra is her name, and I don’t hate her by any means.

I just wish I was her, you know? She gets along with everyone in our office, Her hair is always nice. She has only been here since February and has already been promoted to the status it took me three years to get. 

Don’t get me wrong, she is incredibly nice and I always have a few laughs with her from time to time. Maybe it’s just my insecurities getting to me.

I wonder if sometimes she has similar thoughts when with other people, or even me if that were possible. I know she has a habit of procrastination and has a record of not handing in her work until a few days or weeks later – those are qualities I don’t have, but maybe she doesn’t feel anything negative about herself.

I’m known as the quiet and sweet girl at my job.

I’ve always had a bone to pick with the title, in a way. All my life that is what I was labeled as. People come to me for advice, and it does make me feel good, but I wish I could be a jokester like Lyra too.

That’s all I have… at least for now, I guess. I’m going to drink tea with honey and go to bed.

May 8th

*~*~*~*

The duo entered through the front door this time. You were gone tonight, as evidenced by the messy pile of umbrellas and house shoes that flooded the entrance, so they could break in without much sneaking around. They know where you headed to – and for now, Chrollo orders Feitan not to slit the man’s throat and gouge out his eyes. Your boyfriend, the only one of your past romantic interests not yet dead. Francis.

He’s quite the simple fellow as Chrollo had noted. Feitan was only focusing on where his organs started and ended when they both saw you with him near midnight months before.

“Not yet.”

Chrollo turns his head and looks down at Feitan as they walk down the hall. 

“I know you’re still thinking about it, but your actions may cause our plan to fail.”

No verbal response, though Chrollo notices how Feitan’s steps get slightly louder.

“Fine.”

“Are you saying you’re fine? Or are you still agreeing to not go haywire on the man yet?”

“New one.”

“Hm?”

“New word.” Feitan’s nails retract slightly from your walls as he rolls his eyes. “Hay… wire.”

His hand stops at a photo of your dead cat framed on the wall – he’s a kitten in this one, with his first collar and teenager you hugging him – but your face is cropped out.

He moves the hand away from it for just a few steps. Chrollo finds it polite of him – as polite as Feitan can be with others, anyway.

At the same time, they consider bringing the photos you took off your walls and onto whatever penthouse walls Chrollo has rented out for the next few months or so. It would be cute seeing smiling pictures of you all over, especially since you’ll be switching locations soon enough, and in turn, that expression will soon enough become rare. 

But when Chrollo thinks about the idea further, a problem arises. Your photos aren’t focused on you. They’re focused on your friends and family. You are always in the corner or hidden behind someone else. It’s of your own volition. Chrollo is sure of it. Perhaps he can get Shalnark to work his magic on them and ignore the teasing. Feitan would do nothing more than threaten to bash in his teeth, as with friends he is nothing more than a ‘grumpy wet cat’ – those are Shalnark and Uvogin’s own words. Not Chrollo’s.

“No.”

“Hm?”

“I’ll cut ‘em,” Feitan suggests while putting his sharp nails on your bedroom’s door frame.

“How do you intend to do so when there’s near nothing to cut out?” Chrollo asks. Feitan goes silent until he sits on your bed.

It’s still unmade. You must have ignored that chore list of yours again and opted to work extra hours instead.

Chrollo sits down at the small part of your room that is clean; your desk. It’s mainly used for just reading and video games, hence why the only two things not neatly in piles are a book and your computer. Shalnark told them both the password, but neither of them had decided to tread into that territory for multiple reasons. Firstly, neither of them knows a single thing about the internet and simulations. Secondly, Shalnark can just get whatever information they need without them looking inside it themselves anyway. Thirdly, they already know you enjoy wholesome things on there – the opposite of what you’re reading, if the books on your unfinished read pile mean anything to Chrollo – so there is no point in venturing for unneeded facts about you.

You’ll surely tell them yourself one day. 

Eventually. In maybe weeks. Months. Years. 

Eventually.

It’ll feel like forever and a day if you decide not to talk to either of them. Chrollo and Feitan have agreed without any argument that if you want something, you will ask them. Nicely, of course. 

Broken fingers aren’t necessarily something people flaunt. 

You wouldn’t brag about being forced onto a lap for hours out on a balcony either. 

You’ll eventually tell them. You have to. For your sake.

Eventually. Nothing lasts forever, after all.

“Fei. I promise you that this will be worth the wait.”

Feitan shakes his head, scoffing. “Will it? It would have been easier to just grab her and run.”

“I know,” Chrollo leans in a little, putting his elbows on his thighs. “I know. But you’ll lament it. I would have too if I had agreed with you to go down that route.”

A stare is the response.

It isn’t anger, Chrollo knows that much.

No. 

In all the years Chrollo has known Feitan, Feitan has never gone back on his loyalty to him and the Troupe.

But. But.

Chrollo hasn’t ever seen him have such a concurrence when there is still such division in his eyes.

“Are you sad?” He asks.

“No,” Feitan replies, looking at your cat plush instead of his leader of the full moon outside.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

*~*~*~*

Francis lives outside the city in a farmhouse. It’s up a tall hill with no pathway aside from little rectangular stones here and there – and if you ignore the animals and their housing, people would think that the place is deserted.

Feitan and Chrollo make their way to the white picket fence surrounding the chicken coop. They continue to bite down into the soil for worms or leftover grain. All female. Only three were brown; the others were smaller in frame and white.

“I’ve heard his eggs go for high prices in markets,” Chrollo grins a little. “Maybe I’ll raise some chickens of my own in my later years.”

Feitan raises an eyebrow at him.

“I was joking, Fei.” He clarifies.

“Ah.”

Feitan continues to walk with his hands still stuffed into his coat pockets. 

Chrollo looks at the farmhouse up at the top of the hillside. The lights are still on, meaning you were most likely still up and about in there.

The rooster resting on top of the mailbox makes eye contact with him for a few moments.

“Don’t scream,” Chrollo murmurs, his words sweet as sugar.

“What?” Feitan asks, not even bothering to turn around.

“I’m talking to the rooster.”

“[First]’s rubbing off on you too much.” His friend rolls his eyes and makes sure not to step on a twig.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed how these animals look at us.”

“They’re animals now. What came before… that doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Maybe to you – but I find it intriguing.”

“Talk later,” Putting his hand on the fence gate that leads to Francis’ garden, Feitan turns his head for just a moment. “Near. Quiet. Look.”

For once, Chrollo is the one that does the nodding.

The gate gives off a little squeak as it is opened. It reminds them of Francis’ prized pet pig Annie – though she is only allowed to be inside.

There are all sorts of vegetables and some fruits back here. Cucumbers, chili peppers, watermelons, corn, tomatoes, peaches, pears. They’re all in pristine condition, and so are the flowers growing in pots near the far-off window sills.

Feitan considers giving you the daisies. 

Chrollo considers giving you the marigolds.

They both look at the pig’s head hastily buried under the soil, her ears still popping out and facing the moon. Despite the interment being new, perhaps even being dug today, flies have already spread to the top part of the head and ears. They’re happy you didn’t see her because that would be quite an awful gift from your boyfriend.

Francis is probably happy too, not that they care.

From what Shalnark was able to gather from someone who barely has any social life, Francis moved here from another country about four years ago. He acquired this farm and its land almost immediately afterward. 

From a lottery, Shalnark had explained to them. Or an inheritance. Either way, man’s life is going pretty dang good. Too good, actually, because my senses are tingling too much.

Shalnark was right in that regard. Francis may adopt animals from time to time from farmers’ markets, but a majority of them suddenly appear a few days or weeks apart. There were three white chickens he had purchased. Then after a month or so, there were twelve. The three brown ones came all at once one day.

“Where’s Annie?” They hear you ask as you open one of the windows to get some fresh air. “She usually runs to the door to see me…”

Using hatsu to conceal their presence, the pair aren’t detected among the plants.

“She ran away.”

Feitan almost snickers at your boyfriend’s answer, looking down at the flies and corpse rotting beneath his feet. He didn’t mind the smell of rotting flesh – he has almost always enjoyed it since he was in his teenage years.

Chrollo’s feet don’t dig into the soil – he has opted to instead stand on the few pieces of stone that are by the cucumber plants. He makes a note to go to the laundromat after this; even though it has already been the third time in a row this week alone.

If he can convince Feitan, they’ll steal some things from your place to wash up too – Francis has always been touchy, after all.

“That’s weird,” You say worriedly, not looking into the garden anymore but instead inside; to Annie’s little bed huddled next to the window. “Did you leave the gate open?”

“Yes, I’m still rather upset about it but I’m sure she’ll be found soon.”

Soon. Chrollo grins a bit as he closes his eyes, imagining the moment he’ll save you from this man. Soon isn’t enough. No. This…

This is the moment.

This is the day.

This is the time.

“Feitan.”

“Hm?”

Francis will die today. Or tomorrow maybe, Chrollo isn’t completely sure.

“Don’t make it too bloody,” He instructs, getting off the stones and onto the dirty tiles of the garden’s path to the back door. “I’ll focus on her. We’ll leave the others alone.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you, Feitan.”

Feitan looks confused for a moment. If Chrollo were someone who hadn’t grown up beside him, he wouldn’t have noticed the small millisecond of his friend showing emotion. ‘For what?’ He wants to ask. 

Chrollo knows it. He knows it so he answers the silent question. “For being more vulnerable with her and I. [First] seems to have rubbed off on you too much too, huh?”

“I don’t like your jokes,” Feitan replies as he stuffs his pockets even more – perhaps to hide his balled-up fists. Whether they were made from the hatred of Francis or the annoyance of everything else is up to interpretation. No one will be getting an answer anyway, even Feitan himself. “You’re very happy lately.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Chrollo’s grin widens just a smidge more. “We’re about to rescue a princess.”

From that look, he knows Feitan agrees with his reasoning and is happy as well.

*~*~*~*

“You’re beautiful, darling.”

You’re laid out on Francis’ bed. It’s rather large for a room this size, but it is comfortable to undress on. You picked a periwinkle blue dress today with buttons on only its top front side. Francis wanted to help but you declined. You don’t decline a lot of things, especially when it comes to him. Francis is annoyed by that but he tries not to let it show. He hides a lot of things from you.

“Thank you.” You sheepishly smile, a light flush on your cheeks as you start to undo your buttons.

“Of course,” You’re his favorite by far. You aren’t stuck up or are with him just for his money. You’re so nice to him. You’re so sweet to him. “I wouldn’t lie to you, honey.”

You aren’t like those whores, those sluts, those fucking cheap little bitches.

“I’ll take it slow since it’s your first time and all.” He promises.

You look up at him.

Your frown is just barely noticeable – but noticeable enough for him to see.

“What’s wrong?” Francis asks.

“Lyra’s still missing… I’m worried.”

“Why?” Francis asks, getting more annoyed the more time you spend covered up. “Why are you so worried about her right now? It’s not the time for that.”

“I don’t know,” You look at the open window, cool air still blowing in along with the slight scent of flowers. “I really don’t, I just… have suddenly gotten a little sad just now.”

You’re shivering a little.

“Ah, you must be cold.” He deflects. Having only his shirt on now, he walks up to the windowsill and looks at the vegetable patch. With both hands, he pulls the window closed. “Better?”

You must not have heard him, because you keep playing with your buttons instead of being fully undressed already.

“Could you…” 

Ah. You did hear him, but you seem concerned for something else. That’s fine, as long as you aren’t playing with him and will soon attempt to run away. 

“Close the curtain? Please? I’d really… appreciate it.”

“Sure,” Francis replies, his smile returning to his face. “Anything for you. Just get comfortable, pumpkin.”

The wicked thing came all at once before either of you could blink. Shards of glass flew into Francis and into the bedroom walls. Francis screams as his bleeding hands are quick to go to his eyes, his fingers attempting to get the glass shards out of them before his vision is gone for good. In front of you was a stranger in a suit – he pushed you out of the way in a fraction of a second and onto the floor. The bed had shielded you and him. 

“Are you alright?”

You’re too shocked for words, peeking from behind the bed to where Francis is still screaming.

In front of him was a man in all black stepping on the back of his head with one of his feet. The soles of his boots seemed lodged into Francis’ scalp, and it takes you a moment to realize why. There were spikes on them; not that you could see them much because of how hidden they seemed to be right now. They’re silver judging by the color of their slight sparkle, but the rusted kind. No. Maybe that’s just the bloodstains.

The feeling in your chest is so horrible like you’re very sick. There’s pressure on your heart. It’s strangling you, despite the taller stranger’s grasp on your shoulders being so pleasant. So tender.

“What are you doing?” You screech. The sound doesn’t make either of the intruders flinch. Francis does instead. “Let go of him!”

The shorter man doesn’t look at you, opting to wedge the spikes of his shoes further into Francis’ brain. You try to get up but the man in the suit pulls you back down, shushing you as you protest and cry. “Don’t… it’ll be over soon. I told him to be gentle, you see.”

“Gentle?” You repeat.

“Yes, my dear.” One of his hands rises from your shoulders to where your eyes are. You struggle some more and the stranger whispers something in your ear. “Behave – I can always tell Feitan to torture him the amount he deserves if I wanted to. I know he wants to.”

You deflate and your eyes are forced shut by his palm. “Please stop… I don’t know what we did, just please-”

“You didn’t do anything,” The other man – Feitan if the taller man had named him right and he wasn’t just some assassin he hired; he said his name so tenderly too like he is an old friend – interrupts you. “He did.”

You feel like you’re about to throw up all the wonderful food you just ate. Chicken pot pie, beef tenderloin, roasted pork belly – it all feels like it is about to release from your throat and onto the wooden planked floor below.

“Oh dear,” Another hand covers your nose and mouth. Instead of blood you now smell cologne – sandalwood and amber. “Can you please hurry up, Fei? She looks like she’s about to collapse.”

*~*~*~*

“It’s a wonderful time to be alive,” Chrollo says as he puts the key into his car’s lock. It’s embedded with little multicolored jewels – he had commissioned some artist to customize it for him a week or so ago while Feitan went into your home on his own. “Or at least a wonderful night. Wouldn’t you say so?”

You’re in the passenger seat. You fell unconscious after Francis’ barely alive body got its fingers broken one by one. Some of his blood got on your skirt, but Chrollo is sure that the laundromat will fix that just like the workers will fix his clothes. As long as he pays them enough or threatens them enough. The latter would be more fun for Feitan but the former would let him be seen as a kind patron. Whichever way the coin flips. 

He doesn’t blame you for fainting. If he hadn’t been born in Meteor City and hadn’t been raised in a constant state of fear and a constant battle for power over others, he would most likely do the same. 

Feitan is in the back, silent. His hands now have gloves on them and are now brushing through your hair.

“Should we make the pit stop or go straight?” After the second question, the car’s lights turn on.

“Bed.”

The car starts moving into the barren street. 

“Alright,” Chrollo chuckles a little at the insistence in Feitan’s tone. “We can get some of [First]’s clothes tomorrow then. She’ll probably sleep throughout the day.” 

He doesn’t explain why because they both already know the reason. There is a short chain attached to the main bed. Depending on your behavior early on, it will either lengthen or become briefer. 

There are also some syringes in the mirror vanity that Feitan asked him over and over to keep in case of an emergency. He doubts there will be any real threat where they would have to use them. 

Feitan doesn’t. Feitan doesn’t doubt many things.

“Blankets too.” 

Feitan doesn’t ask for many things either, much less demand them.

“Ah,” Chrollo makes the left turn as his fingers tap on the steering wheel. It’s a song you enjoy listening to on your avenue home. He knows you aren’t listening to it but that doesn’t matter right now. He’ll continue to do so until your mind associates the tune with small controlled adventures to and fro and not you having a life of your own. “All of them?”

“Yes. Please.”

“You don’t say that word very often,” He teases, looking at the flat glass mirror overhead.

“Hmph.”

Putting his hand on your thigh, Chrollo continues to drive while still glancing upward now and then. 

*~*~*~*

Your heartbeat has calmed down. Feitan is now able to look at your face as you sleep. 

You look at peace now. When he had placed you on the bed, your eyebrows furrowed for a moment – perhaps your subconscious being afraid – or disgusted – by him.

The flowery scent of your perfume vanished long ago and has been replaced by a stinging one. Feitan doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind a lot of things when it comes to you.

Unlike the bodies of those who have died by his hands, Feitan places the white blanket on top of you gently like you would shatter if he was just a tad bit rougher. 

Well… Body bags don’t really count as blankets, do they? They are meant to be ripped open and stuffed full of parts no wandering soul hopes to find.

Chrollo decides to break the silence. “After she adjusts a little, we’ll leave. Or you can stay if you want. I can carry her things on my own.”

Feitan turns to look at him.

“Pictures.”

Chrollo sighs. “Alright. But we’ll get Shal to edit them. No cutting.”

“...Tch. Fine. Silky too.” A thumb is pressed against your lips. After it is lifted, there is a light pink that covers its print.

“It’s a pretty color, isn’t it?” Chrollo muses, hanging his suit jacket on the edge of his sofa as he holds his book. “I’ll try to get the same shade for her when she runs out of it. Though I suspect it will be a while before then, huh?”

“It’s fine,” Feitan states, rubbing his thumb against your lips more. “She will always be pretty to me.”

“Never took you for the romantic type, Fei.”

“Hmph.”

Honestly a Catboy Feitan is not something I knew I needed but now I just want more~

His Obedient Pet

A Catboy Feitan x Reader

Warnings: Dubcon, Hybrid Feitan, Cruel treatment of the reader.

Description: Your hybrid proves once again just how unruly he can be.

All you really wanted to do was collapse into your fluffy black bed covers and take a blissful nap. Work had a way of draining every last drop of energy you had in your body, leaving no room for your own hobbies or activities. Asking for shorter hours wasn’t really an option, as you needed all the money you got from your job and raises were far and few between. Your life had shrunk in a massive way ever since moving out of your parents house with you quickly realizing just how much you had really relied on them. They lived too far away to really help you out with anything you needed and you refused to call them just to ask for money. You were alone in the world now or at least almost alone.

You entered your small shitty apartment, tossing your bag that contained your work clothes onto the floor near the front entrance that leads into the kitchen. The apartment was tiny with only three rooms, a bathroom, a bedroom, and the kitchen. The kitchen and bedroom were barely separated by a curtain you had placed over the doorway to make it feel a little more closed off.

Exhaustion didn't even begin to describe how you were feeling, but you knew better than to think you could just call it a day and hop into bed. You were the owner of a sweet little cat after all, and you would have to make up for being away all day.

“Fei!” You called out into your small apartment, slowly pulling off your jacket to hang it up onto the wall. You felt bad leaving him here every day with nothing to do and you promised him that things would get better, but he didn’t care for your excuses. He showed you just how annoyed he was by knocking your things over while you were gone and tearing at your curtain, but he had never been a nice cat.

You remember when your mother got him for you when you were young, growing up with him was like having a personal bully following you around. Especially when he was young, he would mock and bother you, pulling at your hair and taking your things. Even as a kitten, he was stronger than you and when you tried to get a trainer, he flipped out, not wanting to be near other people. He only got worse as the two of you grew up, while you could manage your hormones to the best of your abilities, cat hybrids were not able to cope so well with their coming of age. That’s when he began to destroy stuff out of stress and anger, stealing your clothing and hiding it from you, only to find it ripped up and stuffed in some hidden corner of the house. Your mother had brought up sending him away to a training school while he finished growing and as much as that idea hurt you, you knew it was for the best. Both you and Feitan were suffering due to his lack of control and it would only be a matter of time till something bad happened if he wasn’t taken away for a while.

A few years went past and on your nineteenth birthday, your parents brought up the idea of having Feitan come back home to be with you again. There was the small worry that he would still be a bit chaotic since he didn’t get the same amount of time in the training center as usual cat hybrids did, but he was almost fully grown by now and really at his age, should have been home with his family. You were ecstatic at the idea of having Fei come back home to you, it had been so long since you had seen him, but you were worried he wouldn't remember you or would hold a grudge. Turns out, you were right about that.

Feitan’s return was nothing like you had hoped for. The first thing you noticed about him was his demeanor, it hadn’t gotten much better from when he was younger, still brooding and dark as always. While he didn’t seem upset to be home, it wasn't much of a celebration and Feitan made it clear that he wasn’t some well trained hybrid now that you had sent him off to training school. In fact, all he had learned was now that he was free he didn’t have to hold back his urges anymore. He quickly became aggressive and pushy with you, following you around and muttering under his breath as he did so. He would stalk you as you made your way to your room after college classes and shove you down into your comforter, filling you up as many times as he pleased while spitting toxicity into your ear about how you had left him and how you better not leave him again. Heats were the worst due to how vicious and needy Feitan would become, demanding your body and attention whenever he wanted it.

You had many friends who had hybrids and this type of behavior was nowhere near normal, you were sure of that. It was the lack of training from a young age that had allowed sweet little Fei to become the menace he is now. Your parents had worried for you when you told them you were moving out and bringing Feitan with you, they knew how horrendous he could be and having him all alone in your apartment would be miserable for both of you, but you knew leaving Feitan again would be a disaster. Just like every time you tried to take a vacation for more than one night and you came back to a mess to clean up. Even after everything he had done, you couldn't bring yourself to hate him, it wasn’t his fault.

Shuffling was audible from your bedroom and after a moment the curtain was pushed aside and Feitan stood in the doorway, ears flicking in irritation.

“Did you bring food?” His cat-like eyes narrowed in on you as you sighed and turned towards him. It wasn’t often that the first thing Feitan said to you when you got home wasn’t asking you for something. He was awfully needy for how quiet and independent he was, always expecting something from you.

“No, Fei…we don’t have that type of money. I will make us some ramen, okay?” You soothed slightly, flinching when the cat hybrid scoffed in your direction, his ears twitching.

“Gross.”

He turned back around and disappeared back into the small bedroom, leaving you alone once again.

You then shuffled around the kitchen for the next twenty minutes, heating up water and putting the noodles into the pot to cook. Food choices were few and far between and you felt guilty for making him eat the same food every day, but you really couldn’t afford anything else at the moment. If only he would agree to stay with your parents while you looked for a better job. He would never agree to that. One of these days you would skip lunch at work and buy some cheap salmon to make for him, maybe that would brighten his mood up a little bit. You finished cooking the noodles and poured the chicken powder into the pot to mix with it, stirring it before pouring it into two separate bowls.

“Fei! Dinners ready.” You called out, sitting at the tiny little table you managed to squeeze into your apartment and setting the two bowls down on separate sides of the table. Dinner was silent like usual, with Feitan finishing his bowl quickly and leaving the kitchen again, returning to the bedroom. It was depressing to say the least, knowing he probably spent all his time inside your bedroom reading or doing god knows what. You were just hoping that when you went in there today, there wouldn’t be a mess for you to clean up.

Finishing your noodles, you cleaned the two bowls and put them in the sink for the next day, you were sure you’d get around to cleaning them tomorrow. Shuffling towards your bedroom and pushing the curtain open, you were met with a decently clean room, almost the same as you had left it that morning, except for one thing. The drawers to your dresser had been pulled open and left that way, a few pairs of panties tossed to the side and left a stray on the floor. Sighing and making your way over to the dresser, you began to put the clothes back in their place and push all the drawers closed until you noticed a shadow beginning to loom over you. You turned your head to see Feitan standing over your, lip raised in annoyance and tailing swishing around in aggravation.

“What are you doing?” His tone was condescending and cruel, as if you were doing something offensive somewhere you weren’t supposed to be. You were used to Feitan's foul or harsh behavior, but this kind of aggression was usually saved for when he was really upset or wanted you for something.

“I’m just cleaning up the mess..”.

You prayed that he would just back up and leave you be, but you knew better than that.

Feitan’s eyes narrowed in on your crouched form and he reached down, grabbing your upper arm and pulling you up.

“You always forget. So neglectful.” He was mocking you even if his tone was close to monotone, he knew how hard you tried to make life better for the two of you and it wasn’t like he wasn’t grateful, he just preferred you guilty and ashamed. His grip was very strong despite his short stature and he pulled you towards the bed without much care for the way you were stumbling and pulling at his hand.

“Fei- I’m tired..”, You pleaded with the cat hybrid, pulling at his fingers that were gripped around your arm, leaving red imprints in your skin. Feitan ignored your begging and tossed you sideways onto the bed before climbing on top of you, arms caging you in on either side. One of his knees found its way between your legs, forcing them open while the other leg pressed against your hip. Sometimes you wondered if sending him off to the training center had only made him worse, because now he felt that he had something to hold over your head and he had an excuse for his behavior.

“Don’t care, just lay there then.” He muttered and brought his hands to the bottom of your shirt, peeling it upwards. You begrudgingly lift your arms up for him, allowing the shirt to be pulled up and over your head. Feitan hated bras, he made that clear to you time and time again when he struggled to unclip them, getting more and more impatient as time went on. This time was no different as he visibly looked annoyed by the existence of the garment.

“ Take it off or I’m going to rip it.” He instructed you, way too short tempered to even attempt to remove it himself.

“You said I would just have to lay here..”

Feitan’s knee pressed up against your crotch and made squirm, slowly sitting up to unclip the back of your bra for him. The moment you pulled the last strap off your arm, he pushed your back down onto the bedding and attached his lips to one of your buds. His sharp teeth grazed the sensitive skin slightly before he began to suck on it, tongue pressing flat against your hardening nipple. You knew there was no escaping Feitan when he was in heat, so you slowly combed your hand into his black hair, gripping it between your fingers. One of his hands moved from beside you to grab your other breast, squeezing and massaging whatever he could in his hand before rubbing the nipple with his thumb. He continued to suck on your other nipple while he used his thumb and pointer finger to take your nipple between them and give it a harsh tug. Your grip in his hair tightens quickly, whines jumping from your lips in response to the harsh treatment.

He switched sides, taking the stinging nipple in his mouth and soothing it with his tongue, while massaging your other tit. The assault on your chest ends with another harsh tug on your nipple and him running his tongue along your other one one more time before pulling away and beginning to work at the buttons of your pants.

“Tomorrow, wear a skirt. It’ll be easier for me.”

You can’t deny him and you know that, he will remember telling you to wear a skirt and if you don’t follow his instructions he will make things much rougher for you. Even with his short temper, he was being rather calm with you right now, even taking his time on you.

He tugs your pants off and away from your legs, moving around to get them completely off you. He’s about to go for your panties when you reach up and grab his shirt, stopping him in his tracks and earning a glare from him.

“Wait- take this off…”.

Feitan rolls his eyes slightly but bends to your will anyways and pulls off his t-shirt, revealing his toned chest to you. He’s quick to get back to what he was doing before, this time being a bit slower. He peels your panties off your body and grips your thighs, spreading your legs apart before moving down to become level with your pussy. Feitan isn’t always this into any kind of foreplay and it's a bit shocking just how much self control he is practicing.

His lips meet the inside of one of your thighs and he softly peppers it with kisses before sliding his tongue up towards your heat. He pulls away before reaching your crotch and positions his face right in front of your wet hole, chuckling softly at the way you're already completely soaked by just the small amount of foreplay. Pressing his tongue to the bottom of your cunt, he drags it through your soaked slit, collecting as much of your juices as he can before flicking your clit with his tongue. Your whines only egg him on and he quickly dives back in for more, this time choosing to simply devour your cunt instead of teasing you.

He eats you out as if you're the only thing he's tasted in days, sucking harshly on your clit and hole. He adores the way you arch your back and he forces your legs down, stopping you from closing your legs around his head. Your stomach is tightening in response to his tongue pushing itself into your and flicking at your bud. You're whimpering his name and he knows your orgasm is close. It comes crashing over you in a wave, drenching his face and mouth in juices.

The way he lifts his head up to look at you, licking as much of the cum around his mouth makes your stomach drop. He uses his shirt to wipe his face before smirking at your tired and fucked out expression, you always look so stupid and cute after you’ve cum.

“Mine.”

He comments slyly, slapping your clit suddenly and making you gasp out. His possessive streak always comes out during sex at some point. The dark hair hybrid stops and looks down at your heaving chest in thought, ears flicking slightly. You wonder exactly what he's thinking about, but it doesn’t take much time for him to let you know.

“Both legs on my shoulders, now.” He scoots closer between your legs, grabbing your calves and bringing them up to his shoulders, eyes narrowing in on your face.

“Keep them there.”

With that, he begins to unzip his pants, freeing his cock from his boxers. It's already dripping with precum and he leans forward, rubbing the tip against your pussy. Your breath hitches. He brings one hand up to grip one of your legs while the other grabs your hips to steady you.

“Keep your leg on my shoulder, or I’ll hold you upside down.”

He reaches over to your other leg and tugs it tight against his shoulder before switching back to hold the other one. In seconds, he's bottomed into you, pulling a loud cry from your lips. He's chosen the position he thinks he can get as deep as possible with and he finds success with the way tears begin to run down your flushed face. Triumph combined with the initial pleasure flows over him and his grip on your hip tightens. He leans down towards you.

“Who owns you?”

“Y-You do..Feitan..”

He makes a snapping sound with his tongue as he pulls away from you, satisfied with your answer. His cock is pulled all the way out of you again, only the tip resting in your hole before it's slammed back inside of you. The pace he sets is brutal and relentless and you do your best to tighten your legs around his shoulders.

Feitan never moans out, instead his pleasure comes out in restrained grunts. He prefers to listen to your whimpers and moans that echo through the small apartment, mixed with the sound of skin slapping against each other. He’s slamming into your g-spot with every thrust and it's impossible for you to keep your cries silent, the overwhelming sensation repeating itself every second. Your stomach is already tightening again due to the impending orgasm and with how Feitan’s gritting his teeth, you know he's close as well.

You cum first, all over his v-line and thighs. He continues his pace, chasing his high before releasing his seed inside of you, filling you with his warmth. You finally allow your leg to drop off his shoulder and he releases the other one, catching his breath quietly while watching his cum drip out of your cunt onto the bed sheets. It's satisfying to him and he could watch it hundreds of times without being bored.

“Ironic.”

He reaches down and runs the pad of his finger through your pussy. You quiver in return.

“Who’s really the pet here?”

Low-key wish he was real but that’s a death sentence for me so~

Hi do you write for Feitan because if so could I ask for Feitan having a young and dumb masochistic sister who is always wears revealing clothes which makes him constantly punish her, which doesn’t really bother her too much since she gets off to it.

If you don’t do Feitan you can replace him for Illumi, Chrollo, or Hisoka I’m not especially picky hehe~ thx.

WARNINGS || nsfw, incest, sex toys, name calling, face slapping, shibari, forced orgasms, begging + dacryphilia

You’re just so dumb. He wonders how you get through life when he’s not around because you’re just a little dimwit who’s only good for a good dicking.

Of course he feels sorry for you. You are his darling sister who he adores more than anyone else in the world but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get angry at you and you seem to enjoy testing his patience before he loses control.

You make sure to wear the tiniest skirts and dresses whenever he brings his friends home and when you have your own friends over, you parade around like some cheap whore and nothing else. He should be embarrassed by your behaviour but he’s too fucking focused on your tits and the way they bounce whenever you move to fast.

He’d asked you not to dress like that when he had guests over, especially since it was important business and now they all seemed discarded by his slutty sister.

So no, he’s not going to give in no matter how much you beg. You look good tied up and helpless and he’s not stupid, he knows you enjoy this shit a little too much so he won’t make it easy.

“Please” You beg, gasping as the rope digs into your skin the more you move. It hurts so good but it’s not enough, it’s never enough.

He hasn’t even touched you yet. He watches from where he’s sitting, your legs shaking from the vibrating sensations inside your pussy. You’ve already cum three times and it’s starting to feel intense and it hurts. You just want him to touch you.

“Slut” He scoffs, walking over to the bed to grab your jaw

“I need you” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as he slaps your cheek

“Whore” He says, glaring at you as he starts turns up the vibrator to a higher setting

You scream, arching as much as you can or rather, as much as the ropes would allow. You’re so sensitive and sore but you know he can go all night, he enjoyed torture and since he would never actually harm you any other way, he took it out on your body and you couldn’t do anything to stop him.

He can’t help but stare down at your face. You were beautiful sure but there was something so special about your crying face since he knew you only ever cried for him. It might have been sick but he liked to make you cry, it got him hard in no time and he would fuck you senseless.

“Fuck” You cry out, trying but failing to get your hands free. You would be in pain the next day for sure but you never really learned your lesson and it would only be a few more days before you did it again.

You couldn’t help but want his attention on you all the time even if it hurt.

It’s not often I find a Feitan fic so I’m so dang happy rn

Painting Lies

Feitan/reader (with a slight mention of phinks/reader and shalnark/reader)

He was surprisingly gentle. Nails would carve jagged lines down your legs, he’d press bruises into your skin. The burning of ointment, and warm water often pull gasps from your throat. The stinging and burning of the cuts grasped the air in your chest by its tail, twisting and tugging until it was yanked out, the same way he used pliers on that poor man's teeth when he was annoyed. At least you weren't left with gaping bloody holes when your breath and whines were ripped out.

You met him at an exhibition. There was a gentle background of classical music, a flood of people chattering away as they strolled through the exhibit. You hid in plain sight, your name tag on your chest, staring across the room at a piece made by someone else. Their line work was wonderful, each mark beautifully dragged your eyes across the piece in a loop. Its web pushing you out and pulling you in again. You hated it, it wasn’t bad no, but it was exactly what you wished to be. You were jealous, so filled with envy that you wanted to scream, to cry, and to throw a fit, sob into your pillow, and be comforted by your old stuffed friend.

You liked your little corner, and you happily talked with no one, becoming quick friends with the snack table. A few people came over to complement your work, and you nodded and thanked them. Perhaps you were too anxious, maybe it was a bad day, but you felt like your thanks were forced. It felt like you were stripped bare in front of them, caught halfway through changing. Plucked from the shower, your hair still dripping wet, as if you were halfway through shampooing.

He was different. His eyes were sharp, he felt social-avoidant, more so than you. You stood silently near each other for a while. You still felt like you were on a platter but less so as he took the liberty of glances at your name tag and gazed across the room. He stepped closer as the room grew less crowded.

“You made those?” he motioned toward your section of the exhibition.

You nodded slowly, feeling as if you were shivering like a scared dog.

“They’re good.”

“Thank you.”

You stole sips from your drink, glancing up at him every so often. He looked nice in the suit, it was tailored well, and the vents in the back didn't have the shipping treads still attached. You noticed that it helped you realize who was most likely to have money, and at the very least let you know who knew how to dress in a formal setting.

“The one-piece, with the organs, looked real.”

“Oh? Yeah, I stared at images of surgery the whole time while painting it.” You twirled your straw around your glass. The ice tapped against the cup, like the glass wind chimes that hug from your balcony. Your downstairs neighbor complained about them and you had to get rid of them. Sometimes you still see yourself sitting there in your chair, with your cat tucked behind your feet sleeping. “I didn't get the color right, I should have worked on it longer, it doesn't have enough eye movement.” The piece you’ve been glaring at didn't have those imperfections.

“I like it.”

I like talking with you. “I’m glad.”

You saw the time, realizing you had to go. There were awards to be handed out, and all of them were another reason for you to grow jealous. You wondered if stuffing your pockets full of snacks would be a good thing to come from this night.

“Are you going to the award ceremony?”

He looked back at you, thinking about it perhaps, you wouldn't blame him. They can be boring, especially if they’re unnecessarily long. He nodded, stepping forward without saying anything. He looked over towards you, waiting only a moment before you walked alongside him.

Your table was close to the walls. Nicely placed close to the snacks and drinks, but not close enough to have people hovering behind you. Having your pieces sold wasn't a guarantee, so you stuffed small handfuls of the free food into your bag when you thought no one was looking.

You didn't care to remember much about the night. Your legs were killing you, and you felt like you could sleep through a week when you got home. You liked your brief time with that man, the one you never caught the name of. It was a slow quiet conversation that dragged on but it didn't feel as awkward as you were used to. In a way, you wished to see him again, to have him be a new familiar face at any future show you had. You liked him, in the way you like a staple background character in a show.

You were more than shocked to find out that every piece of yours sold. Even more so when you saw you got more than the original asking price. You were crying with joy, while you practically jumped off the walls letting yourself celebrate with a childish movie and a more spendy takeout meal than you usually allow yourself from time to time. You fell asleep watching it, your cat curled up on your chest.

Your streak of good luck had you dancing all week. You danced with your cat as you took breaks from your projects, swinging him in your arms like he was a newborn. His little squeaks of a meow made you squeal with delight. You peppered kisses across his nose and ears, brushing his chest and desperately fighting off mats that always tried to appear in his fur. Your day job was boring as usual but there were fewer annoying things to deal with. You lucked out managing to snag a deal on paints, even managing to fit an experimental project into your personal use stash of cash.

In your unprofessional opinion, the best thing to happen was bumping into that man from the exhibit. It was late in the afternoon, and the sun started to dip down behind buildings and trees. You had to make a quick stop at a convenience store, the chime of the door welcoming you. You passed by the man in the green jacket waiting on a pack of cigarettes. Your shoes clicked on the floor, they made you feel cute, if you weren't in public maybe you’d spin in a circle and laugh, telling a joke to yourself about being a teacher walking in the halls. You grabbed a small can of tuna, a treat for your cat until you could get his food tomorrow when the store opened. You made sure to triple-check your budget and grab a snack for yourself.

There were a lot of things that needed to be done; you had bills due next week, the cat needed more food, you needed to check on litter sales, and you needed to do some grocery shopping. You need to check the calendar when you get home, that cat of yours needs to go to the groomer to help with his too-fluffy face. Then lost in thought you took a step back bumping into someone behind you.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You turned around, already apologizing with real sincerity.

“It’s fine.”

“Oh! You’re the guy from the thing,” You nearly didn't recognize him, half his face was covered after all. His eyes though were just so sharp, they were calculating and every time they dragged across the room it felt like the walls and floors shivered as a person would. They were beautiful in a scary intimidating way, matched with his silence you would have never dared talk with him.

“Do you live here? Or are you passing through or something?” Maybe you should have been more scared, no you should have been more scared, it was worse than extended family gatherings where you had to sit next to your father’s 3rd cousin’s great-niece, who was also your age with perfect grades and decorated in awards. Part of you desperately wanted to talk to him. You felt so strange dancing around your words, biting on sentences, and licking your comas, but you wanted to get to know this guy, as weird and as awful as it sounded, you kinda had a crush on the guy. It would explain your actions at least.

“Staying for business for a few weeks.”

“Maybe we’ll run into each other again, if that happens and you’re free I could show you this really pretty place with a bunch of cute kitties!” You smiled to yourself and went to check out your things, “I like doodling the cats sometimes they can be so silly, it's peaceful there,” you hummed a little note, thinking of them playing with each other and snacking on treats people left for them. “Anyways, it was nice seeing you again! In case we don't meet again, have a good few weeks!” You waved him goodbye and left with the ring of the door.

You passed through the streets until you were home and greeted by the cat sleeping atop the fridge. He was comfortably curled up with his tail covering his eyes and nose. His little pink ears poked out from atop his head twitching when the door opened and closed. His paws hung over the edge of the fridge, his little paw pads covered in dust and a little dirt from the plant on your balcony.

You went about your day painting his paws. Working diligently on your projects and scrambling to find that damned sketchbook. There were a thousand things to do during your very short few days before your exhibit. Everything was nearly complete. You needed to finish that one cursed liver that was not agreeing with the angle, and you had some hooks to hang to the back of a couple of others. That public showcase needed a more grief-stricken feel, you needed to figure out how to make it ooze out of the piece, and make this more than some random extra gory piece.

You worked late into the evening, you had bright white lights shining down onto the canvas from over your shoulders. When you started yawning every few minutes, your eyes started to water and you were starting to fight to keep focus, you decided to rest. The knot in your shoulders pinched and pulled at you stretched. You struggled to run your knuckles across your back as if to weed out the knots. You rubbed your eyes and noticed you forgot to close the blinds.

Living on the upper floors came with the benefit of safety. Though it did concern you that someone across the street could have been watching you. You’d simply need to make sure to do that every time you start to paint. Or set an alarm on your phone to make sure you close them each night. Though it was late and you needed to finish as soon as you could, so you didn't bother to go change into some fluffy pajamas or curl up into your bed but plopped onto your cheap futon with your cat and a small mountain of blankets you swiped from across the house and just let the exhaustion catch up with you.

Your hard work paid off. You reached your deadline, and while you had a thousand vile words for your last piece others only had small criticisms that you graciously thanked them for. You found yourself stuffing your face with snacks and yawning to yourself in-between conversations. You swear that if you miss one night of full sleep, you feel it for weeks.

Through the nice clothes of passersby and the quiet background chatter of the room, you saw that same guy looking up at one painting. His face was gently covered in a veil to cover his emotions, you couldn't read them even if you knew how. Yet he looked up and the way he looked made you want to believe that he liked it, you hoped that he was gazing up at it with admiration. He looked away from it, meeting eyes with you.

In a sudden surge of confidence, you stepped forward, your hands filled with your small prize of free food. You didn't know what you wanted to say to this man, but you did like how he looked in a suit, it's not your place to comment on his clothing but you preferred to see his lips the few times he spoke. You offered your handful of snacks as you munched on a cube of cheese, biting into pepper jack, how did you feel about the warm pepper jack?

“Do you like it?”

“Sort of.”

You looked up at the painting, your last one, the one that gave you the most trouble. The details still felt all wrong, the emotion was there but it was muddy, and hard to feel.

“It doesn't look like a liver,” you both said to each other.

You felt so excited, he knew it was off too, he knew that it wasn't right. “What’s wrong with it?” you smiled looking at the painting, tilting your head to see if that would help.

“The shading there,” he pointed, “ It doesn't have the right shade it should, and the blood vessels are too easy to see there.”

“Do you think a wash would fix it? I could give this a purple color in the shadows, less dark maybe like a lilac color? But then that part would look too uniform…”

You walked past each piece talking about the issues you could fix with the gorier ones, and how you could make the less gory invoke a desperate and sorrowful feeling.

“Can I ask if you're a collector or a critic?” You yawned a little, but you still felt decently awake, “I’m just curious you don't have to answer.”

“Neither,” he didn't bat an eye at your anxious stumble of words. “I went to the other one because my boss asked me to.”

“Did you come to this one because you wanted to?”

He didn't answer right away. “Yes.”

“Well I’m glad, it meant I could use you as an excuse to avoid conversation,” you joked, once again yawning as you sat down on a bench.

“You’re tired.”

“Yeah, I had to pull one too many all-nighters. I have to catch the last bus.”

He sat down next to you. Deep down inside you, exhaustion was bubbling up. It floated up to your skin melting away at your muscles and nerves. With every breath, you took it chewed through you until you were speaking in yawns and blinking through watery eyes. You wiped away at it, trying to keep yourself afloat in your head and not be dragged down into sleep.

“I could drive you home.”

You sniffled and yawned, trying to think. “I’d like that, I think, I’m just not exactly comfortable with it…” you couldn't ride the bus like this, you couldn't have some stranger drive you home like this either. Yet as if the world was against you, you had to pick between two awful ideas.

“Okay, you can drive me home, just don’t kidnap me, murder me, or any other gross shit okay?” You knew that the request made no logical sense but it made you feel ever so slightly more comfortable with the idea.

You typed your address into his phone, sinking into the passenger seat of what you kinda assumed was a rental car, though you didn’t care to ask while half asleep. The humm of the car on the empty streets was calming. The constant sound and the passing of the buildings only caused you to feel more sleepy, and you just slipped away. It just became so hard to fight to stay awake, it made you feel calm and there was an odd sense of comfort in it, falling asleep in the car, it reminded you of being a little kid.

You briefly woke up when the passenger door opened and you were plucked from the car. You made some confused noise which caused him to speak.

“I’ll carry you in.”

You mumbled something to him, probably your apartment number. Then you unsurprisingly feel asleep again. You kinda woke up to unlock the door. The handle was weird and had to be pushed just right to get the door to open.

“Come in if you want.” You said kicking off your uncomfy fancy shoes and scooping your very confused cat off the floor. He stared wide-eyed at the strange man that was invited into your home.

You had yet to move back into your bed so you collapsed just like every other night on your shitty little futon. “You can sleep over if you want, there’s my room that way if ya want the bed, possibly a sleeping bag if you’ll put up with a pink one from when I was nine.” You vaguely pointed in the directions of each place before promptly forgetting what happened next.

You woke up to a beautiful smell and a pile of blankets, pillows, and a pink sleeping bag on the floor. You were mildly confused but just rolled yourself onto the floor with your mountain of blankets and pillows. Nothing meowed when you landed so you took it as a success.

“Food.”

You looked out of the blankets at the feet beside your head. “I had like nothing in there to make real food out of?” You looked up at him confused.

“I grabbed stuff.”

“That’s like husband material right there.”

You yawned sitting up with a groan. He walked away back to the kitchen, and you looked down at yourself, wondering when you changed into pajamas, but it wouldn’t have been the weirdest thing you’ve done while asleep so you moved on like an idiot. That savory smell made you salivate like a starved dog. It was like your shitty little kitchen was glowing with holy light.

“Thank you so much!”

He nodded, sitting down on a mismatched stool next to you. You didn't mind eating in silence, you were so excited to have a home-cooked meal that tasted good, you may be able to do many things but cooking was not your forte.

“I leave tonight, will you show me the cat place?”

“The cat place?” you stared at him for a moment before it dawned on you and you practically screamed, “The cat place! Oh yes, I will! I have some wet food that we can feed them! My cat is picky and won’t eat the kind I wanted him to try.”

That's how you came to lead him through this bright sunny park, with a small bag of cat food and treats. It wasn’t warm, there was this slight cool feel to the air, when you stepped into the sun it warmed you instantly but as the leaves covered you from it you felt a shiver deep in your bones.

You stopped at a small little creek tucked away from the open park. You sat yourself on the ground and opened your bag, you had to fish out all your little gifts for the cats and handed him a can of cat food.

“Get ready, it's adorable.” You grasped the pull tab looking out across the grass and rocks.

Then pulled up the tab and unsealed the can. A series of loud meows and cries echoed around the trees as cats started locking their heads out of bushes and grass to find the food. You had a huge smile on your face and stood up to dump the food across the ground for them to fight over. You sprinkled and tossed some solid treats in the grass and across the rocks. Sometimes crows and ravens would eat them so you sat down and enjoyed watching the cats.

You gently stroked the kittens that climbed up your legs to grab your food. You playfully pushed the friendlier cats over and let them kick at your hands and naw on your fingers. The quiet man had let the cats rub along his sides scratching their heads. He said nothing but you’d sometimes catch him looking at you. You laughed holding a cat up to your face, and holding its paw so it looked like he was waving at the man.

“You know mister, a cute kitten such as myself, still doesn’t know your name.” You kissed the cat's head before placing him back on the ground. “But you obviously know mine, it’s quite unfair don’t you think?”

“Fetain,” he said, “Not unfair now.”

You laughed lightly and tossed him a water bottle, sifting through your bag to give him a simple sandwich and pulled out some snacks. The sun moved slowly pulling across the sky, shining down from the branches. The sun stippled across the grass, sparkling across the rocks of the creek, and curressing the kittens who were bathing in its warmth.

“It’s a shame you leave tonight.”

Your fingers plucked a fallen leaf from the ground, you rubbed your thumb across its veins, feeling the slight bumps. It was a smooth yellow, freshly fallen from the branches. It was leathery, and you loved its color. Staring at it left you feeling as if you had been gazing up at the sunrise, watching the sun scatter across the stream.

“I like this color.” You looked over at him, “reminds me of a sunrise, the white wispy clouds dyed this pale yellow and highlighting parts of the water…” you drew yourself into a melancholy silence, if you had a chance to watch the sunrise with him and the cats you would.

“Cheesy,” he huffed a small chuckle.

“I know I know, it’s gross and cheesy,” you rolled your eyes, “kinda looks like a cartoon cheese yellow, now that ya say that.”

“It’s getting late, sun's setting.”

“Oh, do you wanna be cheesy and watch it?” You wrapped your arms around your knees and looked over at him.

He didn’t say much of anything but leaned back onto his arms to watch alongside you. You pulled a friendly fur ball into your lap, and rubbed his little ears.

“I think my cat liked you, he’s pretty shy, but he seemed to like you.”

“He was cute.”

“Isn't he?” you laid down with a smile looking up at him. “I think he’d be cuddling with you in no time if you keep visiting.”

Saying goodbye was a bitter moment. You desperately didn’t want him to leave, you realized that you had become so isolated in your daily life. The momentary companionship had left a bittersweet taste, and the more you stayed hung up on it the more it felt like your teeth were rotting away from your overthinking. You tried to go out more after he left. You’d sit sketching the little creek you had shown him. If anything you felt yourself faced with an embarrassing block.

You repeated the same ideas, the same concepts but nothing felt complete, everything was missing something. There weren’t enough emotions maybe, or everything was too muddled together. Perhaps you were the problem and we’re trying too hard, or the idea wasn’t completed, and you were rushing it. Working through the block was a painful endeavor, you spent hours sitting and just listening to music, trying to let your mind wonder. Somewhere a seed of an idea was uncovered, a small fragile thing covered in a thin layer of dirt.

You rolled it between your fingers, the texture needed to be grooved, little threads feathering the figure. How can you capture the sorrow? How can you make something violent and graceful at once? You needed desperation in the figure, the hands needed to search for another that wasn’t there, it needed to feel both cruel and comforting, or maybe it would morph into something new, something that would take on its own life, becoming more than a painting filled with an empty heart. You found yourself transfixed on the eyes. They were the most detailed aspect, you found yourself drawn to them adding so much detail that every brush stroke was a reflection of yourself. When you had to cover it with a cloth, you knew you were succeeding.

You became haunted by the painting, its eyes followed you with that cruel pity. There was something foreboding with the way it giggled at you. You became absent minded with the time, forgetting to take care of yourself as you painted a nightmare of dependency. Having the eyes be such a focal point was a great idea and you were sure that it would look perfect when it was complete but it was just so gastly. It’s effect on you was proving how successful it was already though you had only been working for a short while.

You continued sleeping on your cheap futon while you worked passing out late into the morning and arising even later into the afternoon. Honestly you became too focused on work, ignoring your phone and missing the messages from that mysterious guy you think is cute not knowing he was visiting town again, honestly you should have been taking brakes and paying more attention.

When Fetain showed up at your door you were dressed in one of your painting shirts and left awkwardly without pants, since you had been neglecting your chores.

He stood staring at the painting as you folded your laundry, he would have sat down but the cat was fond of that chair. Fetain was drawn to the eyes too, or at least that’s what you guessed, he was staring intently at every little detail and it was nice if you had to be honest. He wasn’t someone you felt like you needed to look up to, not a teacher or a critic, or not that you know of at least, god you hope not, but he seemed genuinely interested in the ideas you had. Every concept seemed to make him think, the more abstract left him with open ended inferences, and there were a thousand ways one painting could inspire him. You sometimes see that shine in his eyes where he gets an idea. You never asked but you were starting to get curious about it.

“The eyes need to have more shadows.”

You waddled over folding a pair of pants, looking over his shoulder, “show me.”

The eye lids, you somehow missed that important detail and your shading was off. His hand pointed to the shoulder and the shoulder blades.

“Too sharp, and looks like they’re missing a lot of blood.”

“That’s not a bad idea actually, to purposefully make them look like that.” You leaned forwards holding your folded pants to your chest, you traveled your finger down the spine, “I could try to make these look sharper as if something like a knife is digging from the inside out? Do you think that would be too much?” You looked up at him.

“If you don’t like it you can always change it.”

You hummed in agreement, “I think I’ll try it and maybe I can make it look more bruised too.” You went back to folding your things thinking out loud about some of your n ideas under your breath.

“I’ll make food.”

“You really don’t have to do that you know, I appreciate it and I mean I love your cooking so I’m not going to say no it’s just, I feel a little awkward with a guest cooking, does that make sense?”

He nodded and started searching through your kitchen to get an idea of what you had. “I’ll still cook.”

There was something sweet about working on the painting as he cooked. You were jealous of his cooking, last time you had it it stuck in your thoughts. You’d be laying there and then shout out with annoyance as you could slightly taste it still, you could remember the way it melted on your tongue, you savored it and wished to rip into a newly made dish with the ferocity of a rabid dog. You felt like how you imagine your cat does when looking at an empty bowl and the empty box of treats that was mocking him.

You slowly went about putting your folded clothes back in the closet and your drawers. It was mundane but taking the break you needed was helping with preventing any sort of burn out. While you were in your room putting things away you just started wandering around and moving things that had been moved from their correct spots, you must have been looking for something and got distracted before fixing it. Some of your selves were getting dusty, you should wipe them down but you also needed to clean the bathroom.

You settled with staring in the bathroom, it would be less fun but it was needed more than the rest. You sorted through old makeup tossing out old products and things you hadn’t used in a while. You shuffled through spilt bandages boxes and your medicine cabinet. You scrubbed off the grime from the counters and the dust that had collected in the small corners.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Little spots and marks on the glass dotted across your reflection. You could tell that you’ve been doing nothing but working for days. Your skin thankfully wasn’t bad but you started the process of washing it and attempting to prevent acne from bubbling up worse in the few spots that were starting to get a little more irritated. If the visit that you had missed the warning of had ruffle your feathers you relaxed as you rinsed off your face. It was grounding in a way, basic self care that can easily be pushed to the side and missed in a rush, and the warm water comforted you in the chill of autumn.

You walked back out where that beautiful smell was strongest, pulling the knots and tangles out of your hair as you did. The pan was sizzling and you could hear it as you came around the corner. You’d tug on your hair and a series of pops from the stove would mimic you. Tug. Pop pop. Tug. Pop pop. Tug tug. Pop.

“It smells good.”

“Good it’s done.”

You ate mostly quietly, caught up too much on the distinct flavors, and a myriad of textures. You happily tried everything with a joy comparable to that of a puppy running so fast that it ends up stumbling into its mother's legs. When you bit down into something bitter your nose scrunched up, and your eyes closed. You whined a little at the surprise and made a little joke about how maybe you shouldn't trust his cooking after all. He rolled his eyes and slid you a piece of his meal that he knew you enjoyed much more than you had gotten to tell him.

“Eat and stop complaining.”

You saw a glimmer in his eye and laughed, taking a bite of his kindness.

You talked quietly on your futon, some random thing playing on tv to fill the background. You tended to mostly be the one talking, it's not that you minded but sometimes you questioned if you were boring him or if he wanted to say something. You just kept talking to him and convincing your cat to trust him a bit more. When you started getting a little sleepy he didn't mind, offering to do the dishes while you rested.

“Are you sure? You already did the-” you were cut off by your yawn, “cooking.”

“It's fine, sleep.”

“Okay, but at least let me put them away when I wake up.” you lay down, watching him walk to the kitchen, “I don't want you doing all of it,” and you slipped to sleep, with your cat crawling onto your back not too much later.

It felt fuzzy and it blurred together like watered-down acrylic. You saw him scrubbing away in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Your eyes dipped shut and when you pulled them apart half aware that you didn't want to sleep, he wasn't in the kitchen, he was walking around your home. He must have finished and wanted to let you sleep, you rationalized as you blinked asleep again. It felt so warm, so comforting to be asleep, but something was missing, something was off. You couldn't keep your eyes open anymore, you just laid there, eyes closed half aware that something was wrong.

You heard your cat meow. It was low and drawn out. He was upset. What could be upsetting him? You vaguely remember reaching for him but couldn't remember if you found him or if he was doing better or not. You definitely didn’t know why he was upset, or if comfort is what he needed, but you still longed to stop his crying.

The room was different, you noticed that first. You nearly didn’t notice it, a lot of the room looked familiar, but the furniture wasn’t as distressed as the ones you had. There was no sticker from when you were a kid on the shelf on the bottom. The shelves were arranged the same and even had the same things that you had in yours. It felt like you woke up from a weird dream. The shelves of books had the books you were missing in series and even books you wanted to read.

You didn’t really believe it, your sheets were different but so alike at the same time. It was clearly an attempt to replicate it as best as possible. You tossed the blankets off of you panic slowly seeping in, you were so confused so lost, you could have sworn you were home asleep on your futon, but this looked eerily close to your room.

Where was your cat? Had he been left behind? What happened to Fetain? Where were you, and why the hell did it look so much like your room?

You looked under the bed finding your cat tucked away with one of your shoes. His front paws were wrapped around the toes and his head was resting on the ankle of the shoe. Relief for his well-being leaked through you as you called out his name like a whisper, desperate for him to truly show you he was alright. His big eyes opened wide and he yawned squeaking as he stretched out his limbs before crawling over to you. You combed your fingers through his fur, and he purred and mewled, letting you drag him up to your face and cradle him like a newborn. His warm soft and fluffy body grounded you as you looked around wide-eyed at the room, for an embarrassingly long time you just sat there frozen and confused in the corner wondering what was going on.

You desperately clung to him, pulling open the closet to see your clothes lose threads, stains, and all, but mixed in were clothes that weren't yours at all. You took laps around the room inspecting everything in sight. The shelves had things that were nearly impossible to replace and things you had thought were long gone. There was a bag near the bed and when you peeked inside there were more, little knick-knacks and trinkets, books with notes, and emotionally important gifts.

It felt like choking. Suffocating. A thousand things went wrong like a ship in a bottle tossed helplessly onto the shoreline with jagged rocks. You wanted to sob feeling as if you were being torn into a million pieces, scattered across the wind. You grabbed the door handle wondering if you should open it or if you should even try to see if it was locked. Should you be sitting in bed pretending to be asleep still? Behave and be good in the hopes that you don't get brutally murdered? There were too many options, and you twisted the door handle.

It opened easily and you looked out into a hallway. It was plain, sparse with nothing on the walls, there was nothing except the orange lights humming above you. There were voices down the hall you stared down towards them. Should you see who that is? Should you go back and tuck yourself back into the sheets? It was all so strange, standing in the doorway of the mimic of your room, looking around at an unfamiliar place.

You stepped tenderly across the carpet that seemed to you like glass. Each step made you feel like the floor creaked and groaned, splintering and cracking with each timid tiptoe. You felt so cold, shivering and quaking down the long looming hall. There was a loud frustrated yell, a curse, and a mocking laugh, you peered around the corner tucked into yourself.

Two men, both blondes, were sitting around a tv, a low table covered in marks and scratches was scattered with cans and cups. There were wrappers and chips, a standard mess of snacks and drinks that had piled up. The two blondes threatened each other as they focused intently on the TV screen playing some sort of shooter game. You looked across it all into a kitchen that needed a bit of a clean too, it was much better than the table but some take out boxes were set next to the trash can.

You didn’t know what to do. A thousand different emotions glued you to the floor, tears threatened to run lines down your cheeks until it melted through the meat of your cheeks. Oh how crying could provide comfort, to be swaddled up with a tub of something sweet, and to whail to some cute comfort show. It was cruel, to be standing there like a statue, but as fragile as a newborn. You couldn’t do anything but someone could easily hurt you and make horrible nightmares cling like phantoms. Even worse they’ll be true and real digging claws to your skin and sinking down into muscle and bone.

You retreated back, tucking yourself around the corner. The sweet boy that was your cat mewled and squirmed digging his claws into your shoulder, as a toddler would try to stabilize itself in a parents’ arms. How many times would things go wrong?

You scattered backwards down the hall, the two blondes turning around the corner to see you standing not too far from them. You didn’t say anything to them, you couldn’t. There was nothing to do, you just kept backing up, holding on desperately to your cat, trying not to hurt him, but also it felt like you were holding a stuffed animal at this point.

“Where am I? Who are you?” it felt like you were choking, a plastic bag forced over your head as you were left gasping and sputtering for air almost. “Why am I here?” You felt like you were shouting but it was nothing more than a whisper, and your mind was reeling and spinning, a hurricane tore through your thoughts as you spiraled and gapped for air.

It became so hard to breathe, too difficult to try to stay calm and hold back the tears. You were shaking and panting, your chest rising and falling faster than a ball would bounce. It was horrible losing your thoughts as fear and panic overtook you. It became hard to know what was going on, and hard to stay standing as the floor seemed to sway and rock like the deck of a boat. The two men seemed a little shocked. One looked more awkward than anything.

You shook your head frantically, and stepped back like a dog in a corner. You were scared and everything just came imploding into you. When the cat squirmed out of your arms you were so lost and confused that you didn’t reach for him again, you watched him hide in the room you woke up in with a glassy and far away look. Somehow it felt like your body wasn’t yours, a doll tossed and strewn about the floor, left to be picked up by the next kid to come across you. Yet you laid there sobbing, shaking your body, and your face boiling as you cried. It must have been a pathetic sight, a desperate and lonely picture.

You didn’t fight more than a gentle push at one of the men's faces, as one picked you up from your puddle on the floor. It wasn’t like you even recognized which one it was, there was nothing you could do. The act was nothing more than a bleeding mouse trying to push away a cat. Nothing useful would come of it, it was a last act of defiance, a testament to freedom, and a symbol that you didn’t approve of this, that it was thrusted upon you by someone else. It was nothing more than that, but it boiled and evaporated just as fast as your emotions spilled over. You yawned through tears but leaned into the hold, because everyone needs comfort over everything else.

Fetain was like a shadow. He stood out in the room, the bright pale walls and the curious oddities of your old home made him look like a monster. He didn’t so much as speak a word along the lines of “good morning” just sat in a chair pulled back from the desk, with one of your books in hand. You knew it was your book, it’s hard to mimic the bite marks along the bottom corner of the first ten pages or so. You remember getting it to, remember reading it for the first time. You loved the book, but part of your confused mind knew that you shouldn’t like him reading it, or the fact that your cat was curled up on his lap.

Your cat was always shy, friendly enough that he would never hiss, scratch, or bite without a serious reason for it. He was easily spooked by strangers, always dashing away when they towered over him and reached down to pet him. He preferred watching them really, gazing down from atop the cabinets, or from across the room. When strangers were over sometimes you couldn’t even convince him to let you hold him he was so scared. Yet seeing him there on his lap, in this unfamiliar place pissed you off.

“Where am I?”

“Home, doesn’t matter where.” He didn’t look up, he scratched under your cat's chin.

“Bullshit. Why the hell am I here?” You pushed yourself up, hovering over the side of the bed, as if you could somehow intimidate him.

“I brought you home.”

You jumped up, the sheets and blankets falling like water across the floor. They followed your movements like an afterimage, leaving a trail in your wake. You grabbed his wrists forcing the damned book from his hands, letting it fall to your feet. The cat looked up at you, wide eyes, and his ears straight up in the air.

“What do you want?” It was despairing, a whisper and a plea.

You were so tired yet, exhausted by the weight of your emotions and the stress of it all. Your grip was pathetic at best, but it was desperate. Some last attempt at consoling, a final prayer for comfort, as you fell to your knees, and rested your head on the cat's stomach. You still held his wrists but now there was no fight, just proof that he was there and that it was his doing.

“You,” he said, the answer to your question that you already knew. His hand fell to your head, his fingers massaging your scalp, “I want you to paint for me.”

“Is that why?”

“Yes, and more.”

Your arms fell to your sides and you looked up at him, and his hands moved to your cheeks, pinning you gently in place so he could study your face.

“Others won't hurt you, they like you. You grow to like them too.”

You gripped his sleeve, as you fought back another sob, leaning forward so your nose was inches above his knees. The sob jumped in your chest and bounced around, but you never wailed, only gasped as he moved to hold your hand.

Feitan supremacy~ Feitan supremacy~ I love this man so much, and I like how instead of going down the whole he kidnaps the girl route, don’t get me wrong I like those too, she turns the tables on him it’s fun

I feel like this gif is his attitude around her after they get together cuz he gonna be hella teased after this

I LOVE the way u write for Feitan soooooo much!!! Would u ever consider writing something separate to soft spot for him?? I feel like you could write the sweetest (dirtiest) short stories for him.. or even some headcanons? ♡ I love all of ur writing!! Good job dude ♡♡♡

Thank you for your kind words. I'm really glad you like my fics with Fei 🥺. I hope you like this one as well. I'm planning on writing more fics with him after I'm caught up with all the requests 🤍✨.

I'm currently working on a Draken fic and a second part of the 'let's be friends' fic with Killua. I'm writing very slowly because I'm working until the summer and I don't have a lot of free time. I'm sorry guys :(

WARNINGS: smut

Word count: 1995

“Fuck, that auction was more work than expected”, Phinks rubbed the space between his brows, “Can’t wait to get a drink. What about you, Fei?”. “I don’t drink”, Feitan coldly replied. “Come on, little Fei”, Phinks smirked, “One drink”. “No”. “Hm”, a quiet chuckle left Chrollo’s throat. “Always so uptight”. “See? Even boss thinks so”, Phinks eagerly waved his hand in the air. “Tsk, are they blind here? I want to order something”. 

“Sorry sir”, you humbly bowed your head, “I’m afraid it’s a busy night. What can I get you guys?”. 

Your voice… So soft, so innocent… 

“Whiskey sour”, the blonde replied. “Scotch”, the other replied. “What about you?”, you kindly smiled at the dark-haired figure. 

“Water”. 

“Ignore that. He’ll have the same as me”, the blonde replied. “Water it is”, you playfully smiled before turning around. 

“What a pretty little thing”, Phinks’ eyes glided down your back as you walked towards the bar. “Should we take her?”, Chrollo’s eyes lit up. “I’m sure she’d make a cute toy”. 

Normally,Feitan would happily agree. He’d always liked the sound of cute little whimpers, but not today. He didn’t want you to be scared.

“What do you think, Fei?”. “I don’t think she’s pretty enough”. “What?!”, the blonde raised his voice. “She’s one of the prettiest girls we’ve ever met, right boss?”. “She’s got my attention, to say the least”, Chrollo studied your movements. “We’ll take her after her shift’s over”. 

No. He didn’t want them to take you. 

“Shouldn’t we focus on the mission?”. “What’s wrong, little Fei?”. “He doesn’t want to share”, Chrollo smirked. “Tsk, too bad. I want her”, the blonde turned his head to catch you leaning over the bar. You were obviously trying to grab something but failed to do so. “Imagine standing behind that perfect ass”. “Imagine waking up with your guts hanging out your stomach”, Feitan’s eyes lit up. “No fighting”, Chrollo sternly replied. “Let’s forget about her. Feitan’s right, let’s talk business”. “Nice, little Fei. You ruined the evening for everyone”. 

“Ruined?”, you smiled as you placed down the drinks. It was obvious they didn’t notice you at first. “He sure made mine”. “Huh?”, Feitan tilted his head to look at you. “Such a pretty face”, you placed his water in front of him, “It’s not often someone as handsome walks in this bar”. 

“Thanks”, a short reply. “Auch”, you softly giggled, “Anyway, enjoy your evening boys”. 

“What the hell, Fei?!”, Phinks gritted his teeth as you once again walked away. “She flirted with you, and you replied with ‘thanks’?”. “Tsk, what the hell was I supposed to say?”. “Want to play some pool?”, Chrollo hastily intervened, “The loser gets sent on a mission with Hisoka”.  “I’m going to the hotel. Tired”, Feitan sighed. “You sure? We don’t get many nights off”, a lingering smile on Chrollo’s face. “I’m sure boss. Goodnight”. “Okay Fei, see you tomorrow”. “Goodnight, idiot”, the blonde replied before walking to the pool table. 

His heart ached at the thought that he never see you again. He hated this feeling. 

“Leaving?”. “Huh?”, Feitan slowly turned his head. “Leaving?”, you repeated yourself as you closed your jacket. “Yeah, I’m tired”, Feitan ignored the taxi that was waiting for him. “Me too. Work’s stressing me out lately”, a serious expression on your face. “Hm”, another cold reply. 

“I’m starving. Want to grab some food?”. 

Why were you asking a stranger to ‘grab some food’? It annoyed him how careless you were. 

“Just be honest and tell me what you really want”, Feitan's eyes met yours. They seemed so cold and distant, but there was a slight smirk on his face.  “H-huh? I-I don’t know what you’re talking about”, you hastily turned your head to the ground, cheeks red with shame. “Normally boss gets all the girls”, he looked to the sky, “About time I had some fun”. “H-huh?”, you froze as you felt his hand around your wrist, pulling you towards the car. “W-wait-“. “Don’t back down now. You seemed so eager a minute ago”. 

“Where are you taking me?”, you pulled away, studying the car in front of you. “My room”. “Where? I’m not getting into a car with a stranger without knowing where you’re taking me”. “Waste of time. We both know you’re coming”. 

He watched as you grabbed your phone from your bag. You were so cute with your fake ‘stern’ expression and cherry-red cheeks. 

“What are you doing?”, he clenched his jaw. “I’m sharing my location with a friend”, you frowned, "If you end up murdering me-". “Don’t worry, I’m not planning to”, he interrupted you with a smirk. “Now get in. It’s cold”. 

--- 

“What’s your name?”, you asked as he opened the door to his room. It was a luxurious hotel, something regular people couldn’t afford. “Does it matter?”, he raised a brow. 

He knew you enjoyed this. The thrill, his arrogance… 

“It does”, you watched as he entered his room. “Just get inside”, he walked towards the bed. “Fine, I’m Y/N-“. “Don’t care”. 

“You’re lucky you look so handsome in your suit”, you closed the door behind you. 

“I’m lucky?”.

“W-what?”, you froze as you felt his hot breath against your ear. He was sitting on the bed a second ago… How could he be so fast? “I’d say you’re the lucky one. I’m very picky when I pick a new toy”, his hand traveled to your waist. “Toy?”, you loudly swallowed as you tried to control your breathing. You didn’t want to seem desperate. “You’ll never go back to your old life, to your friends, family… You’re mine now”. “So, you’re saying I can’t leave?”, your heart racing. “You can try”, he chuckled as he tightened his grip around your waist, “I want you to. I want to hunt you down, to hear you beg for mercy, to look at me with red-stained eyes, tears streaming down your face…”. 

“But my friend, she knows where I am”, you clutched onto your purse. “Cute”, he swiftly turned you around, pressing your back against the wooden door. “You have no idea who I am, do you? Who we were? Poor little thing. You’re like a deer caught in the headlights”. “W-wait!”, you tried to push him away as he softly bit the space between your shoulder and neck. “Wait?”, a devilish smirk as he lifted your skirt, swiftly pulling your panties to the side. “Fuck”, he looked down at his fingers. “You’re telling me to wait but you're soaking”, he chuckled as he grazed his tongue along the digits of his fingers, “So sweet”. 

“Well, I guess it’s time to drop this silly little act”, you smirked. “It’s obvious you haven’t noticed”. 

“Noticed?”, Feitan’s eyes studied yours. He didn’t like the sudden change in your energy. “I didn’t mean to let it get this far but…”, you softly bit your bottom lip, “You looked so handsome in that suit”. 

“Who are you?”, a sudden cold feeling against your throat. “Careful with that knife, Fei. No fighting between members, right?”. 

What? To be honest, he never felt more clueless in his life. 

“So cute… Like a deer caught in the headlights”, you chuckled. “Came across Chrollo a couple of weeks ago. To be honest, I almost won when he tried to steal my nen … But he gave me a choice: join the Troupe, or live without it”. “You’re lying. Boss didn’t tell me anything about a new member”. “Because he wanted to see who’d get careless when someone flirted with them. And you lost, Fei”, your words died out, making them sound venomous. 

“Tsk”, he took a step backward, swiftly putting the knife away. “Boss knows I never do this”. “But you did now”, you happily hopped behind him. “Show me your spider”, he froze as he looked over his shoulder. “Here”, you swiftly pulled your shirt over your head. “See?”, you pointed towards your waist. 

Right. This was the moment he started to hate you. 

“What’s that expression?”, you giggled. “You’re almost drooling”. “Get out”, he clenched his jaw. “You’ve made your point”. “I don’t want to leave”, you hastily replied, a frown on your face. “Sure, this was some kind of twisted test but…”, you paused as you fiddled with your fingers. “I really do think you’re handsome and… I mean… My body can’t lie”, a blush on your cheeks. 

How could you switch moods so fast? It was as if he was talking to a different person. Your stance changed, your voice, your expression… No wonder his boss decided to let you join. You could fool anyone, even someone as skilled as himself. 

“You sound desperate”. “Because I am”, you softly replied, “When you said I was going to be your little toy, that I was yours… I liked that”. “Too bad. Don’t like being tricked”. “B-but Chrollo told me to-“. “I don’t care”, Feitan laid down on the bed. “You should’ve stuck with your little performance. If you did, you’d be shaking underneath me by now”.  

“Fine”, you rolled your eyes, “Guess I’ll take my chances with Phinks”. 

No. He didn’t want you to. Even though you weren’t an innocent bystander, even though you were probably as strong as him… He wasn’t going to let that idiot have you first. 

“Don’t put your shirt back on”, he slowly sat up straight, looking as disinterested as ever. “Oh?”, you smirked, “Changed your mind?”. “He can have you when I’m done”, he slowly walked towards you. “Careful, I’m the possessive type”, you placed your thumb in between your teeth. “You don’t know me”, his hands now gently fiddling with the straps of your bra.“So?”, you pouted, “You’re mine now”. “Don’t say stuff like that”, he quickly grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “When we’re done, you’re going to leave my room and pretend this never happened”. 

“When we're done, you’re only going to want more”, you grabbed his other hand, guiding it to your skirt. “Come on, Fei. Let’s have some fun”. 

You were right. From the moment he felt your warmth, from the moment you arched your back… He was going to use you over and over again. He could never forget the way you felt, the way your body welcomed him… 

“So good”, you closed your eyes, your legs wrapped around his waist. “Feels so good, Fei”.

Normally he wasn’t like this. He never cared if the girl liked it, if she felt good, but now…

“What do you want me to do, princess? Want me to help you?”. “P-please”, your eyes flew open. “Touch me, please Fei”, an innocent look on your face. “Again”, he softly bit in your cheek, “Ask me”. “Please Fei, make me come”, you let your nails sink into his shoulders, “Please, please, please”. “Cute”, his lips found yours, “Hurry though, won’t last much longer”. 

“S-shit”, you tightened your grip, your legs shaking as his digits found your sweet spot. “I-I’m coming”. “Already?”, he smiled, “It’s fine, you can come. Won’t last long anyway”. 

“F-fuck, you feel so good when you clench around me like that”, Fei’s eyes were wide open. No one ever felt this good. “C-come with me, please”, your brows drew together, eyes locked with his. “W-where do you want me to?”, Fei mirrored your expression. 

He tried so hard not to fill you up already. He wanted to feel you come undone around him. He needed to. 

“D-don’t care”, you arched your back, “J-just keep going, please-“. “F-fuck”, he frowned as he looked down. “I-I’m coming”, you let your head fall back, nails dragging across his back. “M-me too, princess”. 

Was this the best he ever had? Even his legs were shaking. 

“Fuck”, he sighed as he intertwined his hands with yours, his head resting against your chest.  “What do you think?”, you tried to catch your breath. “What?”, his eyes studied your expression. “Was I right?”. “Hm”, he smiled, “Only want more, princess”. 

I love this sadistic man so much, why do I always like the ones whose fics are always far and in between. I’m so happy to have seen this one.

YANDERE! FEITAN PORTER X DARLING!

TOUCH

⚠️ This is a work of fiction with content I do not condone in reality. This is not meant to encourage or represent any type or sort of conduct. This is merely just fantasy ⚠️

MDNI•18+

Trigger warnings!

This work contains: Yandere content/intentions•NSFW•Kidnapping•Holding against will (darling)•Cursing•Mentions of abuse/torture•Stockholm Syndrome•General depravity•Obsessive tendencies•Sexual acts (consensual but darling is psychologically not sound of mind to be consenting, so somewhat dubcon)•Oral•fem darling•Somnophilia

You have been properly warned and notified of what this work contains. If anything above offends or triggers you, please do not continue reading. Don’t make me waste my time writing all this out only for someone to read and get offended when all the warning literally tell them what is in this. You reading this confirms you are 18+ years of age, meaning a consenting adult agreeing to proceed and consume this content, do not come after me or report me because you aren’t capable of managing yourself.

I appreciate support and love from anyone viewing and enjoying my content. Thank you♥️ I freakin’ love this 1999 anime artwork of Feitan!

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡. .｡.:*

Time suddenly seemed to become irrelevant.

The days passed in a mundane blur, and at some point, everything seemed worthless.

He mentioned in passing that it was November now, though you’d stopped asking the date a few months after your imprisonment. You stopped talking nearly all together these last few months. You couldn’t be entirely sure the last you’d spoken more than a word or two in response to his questions. His own speech minimal, though occasionally you’d catch a glimpse of his chattier side. Even that still couldn’t be considered talkative, more of a normal amount of speech when in a conversation. You haven’t seen that in a while either, maybe it disappeared when you’d stopped your own blubbering and whining. You didn’t ask questions at all anymore. It was pointless and had little meaning.

He sat in his usual spot.

Perched in the corner of the room, eyes sharply trained on your form as always.

His eyes used to unnerve you, riddle you with anxiety and fear of what he was planning. What he might do. What he will do.

It mattered hardly at all at this point.

You’d senselessly begged once, for it all to stop and for him to just kill you already. That’s what he must’ve had planned in the end, for what else did he want with you? An object to admire?

It seemed mad in it’s own way, that thought. Your questions of something or anything personal went unanswered and occasionally punished with weeks of isolation. It was better not to pry.

Asking for mercy and a faster death only brought a wrath you didn’t know lay inside him down upon you.

It was the first time he became physical with you, touched you more than was the bare minimum of necessity. He was surprisingly warm. Except his touch at that time was anything but the usual gentleness you now realized he used with you. His unforgiving grip on your face as he dragged you to your knees, the absolute agony of having your jaw fractured. The pain was unbearable, and even now left phantom pains radiating down your body. He’d dragged you out the front door, for the first time in what seemed to be forever.

Outside was duller than your mind remembered.

You’d been thrown into a vehicle and taken somewhere new.

You’d never wished to take back words more than you did that day. He’d dragged you to some sort of… torture facility. Chained you in a corner and left you there for hours on end. Nervous and frightened, you waited and waited. When he did return, it wasn’t alone. Someone you’d never met was dragged in, strapped down to a table.

Feitan had never really demonstrated anything so frightening before. He’d been somewhat volatile and brash, but the sadistic side never revealed itself like it did that day.

A day turned into several, and for nearly a week you were made to watch his sessions as he called them. Where he’d laugh like a maniac as he turned living humans into creatures you pitied more than yourself. He’d wipe their blood on you, smile as you trembled and begged for it to stop.

When he finally heeded your pleas, he asked a question that left you numb.

“Still want to die?”

You didn’t want to die anymore, at least not by his hand. He knew no mercy. He had no grievance tearing someone apart and from the inside out. The events that followed spanned longer than you bothered to keep track of anymore. He brought you back to your “home” where you were kept locked away. You had a bed, blankets and pillows, clothes and food, clean water and hygiene products. You’d never appreciated a bed like you did that first night back before. The softness and warmth you felt made tears roll down your cheeks and you had thanked him for returning you. It was the first genuine gratitude you’d ever shown to him.

You glanced up from the TV running a show you barely processed to catch his gaze. Those grey orbs holding emotion you couldn’t name or had never seen. He was always so still, and his porcelain features gave him the feel of a doll. For a moment, you merely held his gaze, feeling oddly calm and panicked all at once. Why you felt panicked didn’t make sense, nor why you’d feel calm in the presence of what seemed to be the Grim Reaper himself. The only movement he made to acknowledge your attention was a slight quirk to his brow. His usually ignored but always open book in his hand closing. His face mostly covered left you little to go off to how he felt. You’d gotten somewhat good at interpreting even the tiniest hint of emotion from him, but currently with your own frazzled feelings, figuring out his wasn’t working.

Your legs were pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around them as you settled into a protected fleshy ball. The blanket on your shoulders helping ground you slightly.

Only a little.

“What?” His voice was raspy, his own lack of use evident.

It didn’t sound annoyed, though you could just be misinterpreting this entire interaction.

It felt odd to speak, your mouth slightly cottony and dry, but the urge in your chest felt strangely compelled to say his name.

“Fei” You’d judged his voice, but your own was just as bad.

His eyes widened slightly, though aside from somewhat visible surprise, you were in the dark on how he’d feel about a nickname. You’d given your captor a nickname long ago, though never voiced it aloud. Feitan… Fei felt less threatening.

Feitan is darkness and fear. Feitan tore your life away from you, terrorized you, imprisoned and controlled nearly every little aspect of your life down to your very diet. Feitan is the infamous torturer of the Phantom Troupe.

Fei… well, in your own mind, Fei had become a fictional sort of character. Fei was gentle, Fei listened when you spoke or rambled, and in your dreams Fei would touch you. You hadn’t felt much of any contact in so long, and the last time had left a physically and psychologically painful memory behind. In your dreams, Fei would hold you, touch and caress, Fei was quiet but powerful. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but nothing happening to you or around you was healthy. The mental sickness and insanity most certainly was tickling around your mind.

You’d tested boundaries early with Feitan.

Screaming, kicking, fighting, escape attempts, refusal to eat or comply… were all met with isolation and revoking of privileges. Asking for death was met with nightmares and aching pain that still bothered you when it was too cold.

You’d tried manipulation and coercion, neither you excelled in though. Feitan may be quiet, and occasionally his grammar is less than exemplary, but he is no fool. All attempts ended in… nothing. He did absolutely nothing. He was like a stone wall, impenetrable. Even now, you knew nothing of his intentions. Your only guess at this point, as out of place and ridiculous as it may sound, is companionship. He likely saw you as a pet of sorts, like one might “rescue” a cat off the street. The treatment you receive is rather similar too. In his eyes, maybe you were just like a cat to him. A weak kitty he plucked off the cold streets and gave a warm home. It used to be a thought which invoked fury, but now…

You wished he’d commit to all acts of a pet owner. This included giving affection. You craved it. Missed it. Needed it. Something. A weird and warbled voice in your mind said you’d even accept the negative attention if it meant he’d put his hands on you again. It’s a suicidal thought, but even as his gaze narrowed, you couldn’t stop your body.

He’s silent as always, as you uncurl from your position you’d taken as your usual way to cope. Holding yourself helped, but it’s be better if someone else did it. He didn’t make any indication your nickname offended him.

Shaking, you stood on weak legs and began a pursuit of something you’d never thought you’d even entertain. He was across the room, and while he was by no means a big man, his presence could be suffocating when up close. Gracelessly and with little tact in your actions, you approached until you could smell him. He always smelled like mint and something metallic. For once, the thought of the underlying scent being blood didn’t bother you. He smelled nice, and while his entire body language was closed off and reserved, he still hadn’t even twitched.

He just kept observing you.

Even as you sank down to your knees in front of where he sat.

Those sharp eyes followed you the entire way. When the realization of what you wanted to do came, you weren’t bombarded with the expected humiliation or shame. There wasn’t guilt or disgust like you used to feel when these feelings would arise.

Maybe it signaled you were too far gone to save anymore.

“Fei” his name left your lips again, and for the first time, his rapt attention felt good. It felt good to have him so focused on you. You watched as his head tilted slightly, his face hidden but you could somewhat fantasize about a soft smile playing on his lips behind the fabric of his collar. His favorite jacket always a staple in his clothing collection.

“What?” The way he asked proved he wasn’t revolted at your proximity. He didn’t seem to be asking what you were doing, but rather why you called his name.

“Touch me?” Though you’d phrased it like a question, it bordered precariously on being a demand. You probably looked ridiculous, kneeling at his feet and staring up at him like a sick puppy looking for even the smallest amount of attention. You should be avoiding him, trying to get away, doing anything but this. The only thing you felt though was fear of rejection. That he’d cackle like he does on the phone occasionally, with someone named Shalnark or Phinks, or like he did when he removed the hands of an artist and found humor in the irony. He didn’t answer immediately like he normally would with a direct question. This couldn’t possibly be considered a personal question that he enjoys avoiding, it has only to do with you.

“Please…” you sounded pathetic, even to yourself. The way your bottom lip pouted out and wobbled, the way your eyes watered a little as if you’d cry at any moment, the way you trembled. You didn’t want to grab onto his pant leg, still mindful that a kick from him could easily be your undoing. You’d have to wait till given permission. A pet is what he wants, right?

You could finally be hitting that special point of breaking.

This could be another delusion you’d conjured up and you’re moments away from a lot of pain or isolation again. It’s impossible to tell. No power rested in your hands, and that small realization had tears rolling down your cheeks as you looked at the man who’d reduced you to this mess.

Begging him for measly scraps of what should be your right. Humans needed the physical contact for their health, and while he was clearly the devil, you needed it. Needed him. Needed anything.

“Fei please… I’ll be good, whatever you want, please… I need- hck!” Your sobs were cut short as your body moved faster than your mind could process. You’d nearly bitten into your tongue as you choked for breath, unable to fully comprehend exactly what happened.

The leggings and sweater you wore weren’t warm at all to you. Even blankets seemed to have a chill that seeped through them. Right now though, warmth was creeping through your clothes as mint and copper flooded your senses. He’d pulled you into his lap. The realization was shocking, but the next thought was thrown away when thin strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into his chest.

“Oh” words died on your lips as a sensation you couldn’t name overcame you. You’d never realized how stiff you were until your body began to relax. Fully relax. “Oh…” it came out breathy and nearly excited, as you foolishly wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in the crook of it.

This was insanity.

He was all muscle unsurprisingly, but it didn’t deter you from trying to mold yourself to him. Your much softer figure held in his arms so gently it made a new wave of tears threaten to spill for all new reasons. You straddled him, front flush against his own, as you struggled to accept that you were being held right now.

“This?” His voice so close to your ear had a strange tingling sensation move from your neck down your spine. The shiver didn’t go unnoticed, as his hold tightened and pressed you further against him. It wasn’t necessarily the most pleasant way to be held, but it was many times better than nothing. You nodded against him, mumbling out a soft good as you basked in a moment of joy you hadn’t experienced in what seemed like forever. It felt good to be held.

It felt even better when his hand moved and brushed through your hair. His touch light and careful, and you could imagine how he was noting every little detail of your reactions. The shivers and little sighs you released as he continued to just pet, touch, and hold you.

For once, you dreaded him stopping.

Even as your eyes grew heavy and body went limp in his arms, you dreaded when this would end. If you could just figure a way to keep him like this, you could envision your life being bearable.

“Fei” you didn’t make any effort to move.

“Hmm” his chest vibrated a little with his hum.

“Can I sleep with you?” It didn’t take a genius to realize your question caused him to tense. His muscles tightening up and panic seeping into your system as you worry this took it too far. You both slept separately unless absolutely necessary, something you used to be grateful for and now hated. It was always freezing when you slept, no matter how warm it actually was.

You might’ve ruined his grace, overstepped if anything, but you needed to stay close to him physically. It wasn’t a want anymore but a necessity.

“Yes” his word both shocked and elated you, and with a few more gentle pats in his arms, you were asleep.

Your cunt throbbed and ached, your lower belly pulled tight inside like a string about to snap. You tried closing your legs, whining as the hot wet sensation continued despite the light struggle you began to put up. It felt good, whatever dream you were having, even as the scent of mint and soap surrounded you.

Small whimpers and gasps became heavy panting as you felt raw heavy pleasure blossom in your core. Something prodded your entrance, wiggling bit by bit till you were penetrated and stretched on something long and hard. It moved and rubbed inside you. The warm pressure on your clit only pulling you further.

It was heaven, even as a slight burn inside had you back to whining and arching your back as your cunt stretched to allow something else inside. Fingers?

The thought was gone as the pleasure radiated throughout your whole body.

It wouldn’t be the first wet dream you’d had, but it was the most realistic. The hot breath on your sensitive clit and twitching insides felt real, and the pleasure was so crisp. Your hands curled into the sheets, struggling between sleep and the impending orgasm threatening to take you.

Your eyes popped open as you came, body twisting as a sharp moan punctuated the air.

You were awake and finally realizing this wasn’t a delusion or dream. Someone was lapping at your cunt, your thighs held open and pinned by two pale hands. The sensitivity and slight bewilderment of the situation had you struggling to form a coherent thought.

“Fei-Feitan…?” If there was one thing you knew with perfect certainty, it was that he’d never leave you alone long enough for someone to find you and do this. It couldn’t be anyone else. Though the fact he was doing this was even more incomprehensible. He seemed so disgusted by touch, so detached from human emotions, it really never occurred to you that he’d have normal human urges. He was still lapping at your cunt, even as your eyes locked with his own, even darker in the barely lit room you realized was his own. You were in his bed, with his head buried between your legs, and his eyes locked on you.

“Fei!” A weaker orgasm than the first was torn from you as you came again, sensitivity skyrocketing when he still continued to lick and suck on your clit. The room was spinning slightly, and your naked body began to cool a little as you sweat. He’d stripped you. He must’ve, but things weren’t really connecting in your mind as white hot pleasure was turning mildly painful.

“Too much!” You gasped and you had to force your hands to stay tangled in the sheet to not touch him. Your eyes watered and you made a pitiful sight with your darkening cheeks and open panting mouth. As your back arched to avoid his mouth, a sharp slap to your outer thigh had you yelping in pain.

His eyes narrowed, and it wasn’t hard to see he became annoyed with your squirming.

“Shut up.” His tone was low, no room for arguing or protest as you bit your lip to do as you were told. Trembling under him as he raised up to stare down at you between your spread legs. He looked gorgeous, something you hated to admit. His dark hair mildly tussled and pale skin a little flushed, his signature jacket gone. This wasn’t the first you’d seen his naked chest, but it was certainly a rare occasion. His pants were still on but unbuttoned. His lips were the most sinful aspect, still glossy from your release. It was agonizing to be silent.

You should cry and beg for him to stop.

Instead you found your legs spreading just a bit wider as you looked up at him like he was your personal deity.

Debauched.

His slow and condescending smirk only made your breathing harder, chest tightening with anticipation and lust. He snorted, hand moving to spread your cunt open as he spit on it. You were panting now, barely following his order to stay quiet. It was difficult when you wanted to beg, for more, for him, to be touched.

“This what you wanted? Whore.” His crude words didn’t make this any less arousing, especially as he unzipped his pants and pulled his cock free. He was larger than you’d have ever expected, though it hardly mattered as he lined himself up and began pushing into your unused hole. Despite the wetness and prep, it was slightly painful as he filled you. The heaviness inside coupled with the burn was delicious as your hips moved to take more of him, deeper. You couldn’t help the moan, the way your body shook and hands finally moved to touch him.

He was fast in securing both your wrists in one hand to pin above your head, his hips finally kissing the back of your thighs. You felt him twitch inside you, and it drove you wild.

“Please Fei, oh-!” His hand came down on your thigh again, before he pulled his hips back and slammed into you. Your head goes back as you arch into him and moan louder, as he begins a brutal pace that has your chest moving in rhythm with his thrusts. His tip kissing your cervix has you unwinding into a submissive mess of whining and pleas. You didn’t even know what you were begging for.

You either annoyed or aroused him further when he sneered and used his free hand to grip your jaw, thankfully not roughly as it ached nonetheless, forcing you to open wide before spitting into your mouth. He laughed when you clenched down harder, feeling the coil in your stomach tightening again as the pleasure increased.

“Pretty slut likes being my bitch.” He hardly seemed out of breath despite how hard you were panting. You felt a bit unfair at how unfazed he seemed, but similarly proud at how he gazed down at you. Like you made him pleased. His gaze wasn’t sharp, even bordering on warm despite how roughly he was fucking into you. All you could do was moan his name and beg.

Like a good little pet.

You could feel your orgasm coming again, and you’d meant to tell him, but his lips against yours shocked you silly. You didn’t even bother closing your mouth, Feitan easily slipping his tongue inside and kissing you so sensually it had you coming on his cock. You could only whine into his mouth as his speed picked up and you became overwhelmed.

He pulled away as a string of saliva connected you two for a moment before breaking. He licked his lips before focusing on where the two of you were joined. Watching his cock disappear in your sopping wet little cunt. It was filthy and erotic.

“Pathetic” his words were cruel but he looked beyond pleased as he looked at your fucked out expression. Unable to even form words as he continued to bully your poor pussy. It was laughable to him, how sweet you are now, how obedient and submissive you’ve finally become. All that fight and control gone, and in its place you lay now.

He’d never tell you out loud how perfect you are. How absolutely precious he finds your attempts to run away from all the pleasure he’s giving you.

His training has been worth while, making you everything he wants and more. Though he’d hated the power you held over him, having you now, moaning as he drills your cunt and begging for more, takes away the shame. You were his weren’t you? Then anything he wanted to do was fine, it wasn’t shameful to fuck his toy. Especially when she whined and arched her back up to take him in even deeper, when she cried and came again around him.

Feitan saw you as much more than a measly pet. Those were replaceable. No, you were just his, whatever he wants you to be, but still his. That’s why when he wraps his hand around your pretty neck and squeezes, he’s beyond thrilled at how you relax. You throw caution to the wind and give him everything. He’s not cutting off oxygen, but enough blood flow and air to keep you light headed and disoriented.

“Who do you belong to?” He knows you can hardly tell up from down right now. He knows how good he’s fucking you. Reducing you to this beautiful mess of feeling only. He’s still him though, and it brings him only pleasure to add in another few painful smacks to your bruising thighs. “Answer slut” he asks again, being thrown for a power trip as you choke out, “You!” to him.

His balls tightening signal he’s close, and the thought alone is enough to amuse him.

“Going to cum inside.” His words don’t register immediately to you, he can tell, but it seems all reality isn’t gone from you when your eyes widen.

“I-I- pregnant! I’ll get-“ he cuts you off with a chuckle, hand squeezing your throat enough to shut you up as he savors the sounds of wet squelching echoing in tune with his thrusts.

“My personal cock sleeve doesn’t get to talk.” The struggle you put up is worthless, but entertaining as he really does cum inside you, a soft grunt his only indication of release and overwhelming pleasure. Emptying himself inside and filling you with him. Marking you, painting you inside, signally you belong to him in every way now.

You lay exhausted and sore in his bed, cold as the various liquids dry on your skin and Feitan leaves.

Where he goes it doesn’t matter. You let yourself lay for a little longer before deciding it’s best not to anger him by staying in his space. You move to sit up, wincing as your intimate areas ache, but pushing forward nonetheless to get cleaned up and change his sheets and any mess left behind.

You hate the hollow ache in your chest the most. You look at your thighs to see his cum leaking out of you, and a sliver of dread echoes in your mind that you truly could become pregnant. The possibilities too much for you to handle right now, as you shakily slide off the bed to stand on wobbly legs. He could be back any moment, and it’s best you get to work early. You work on removing the sheets, just as the bedroom door opens to reveal a fresh Feitan, his signature jacket in place as he holds a glass of water.

“What are you doing?” His question is asked in a slightly lower tone that usual, and you quickly freeze in place.

“I-I’m cleaning up…?” You don’t mean to sound hesitant, but this situation is new and will require months of careful inquisition to avoid punishment under his hand. You knew better than to continue any task without his go ahead though.

You stand in silence as he observes you with a scrutinizing gaze.

“Come here” his order is curt, and while it terrifies you, you are quick to stumble over to him despite still being naked and filthy. You hate how badly you must look, barely able to walk while he is up and about his usual day as if nothing even happened. To him maybe nothing did happen, this being just the same as making a sandwich, and you wished the thought didn’t hurt. Maybe this would just be a new pain to live with, and the sooner you accepted that, the better your pathetic existence would be.

You stand just before him, fingers twisting around each other as you stay with your head bowed to stare at his feet while you concentrated on staying upright despite how difficult it felt for your hips and legs to support you.

“Not hard enough?” His words confused you, as you peaked up beneath your lashes to look at him curiously.

“I-I don’t understand…”

“Didn’t fuck you hard enough?” You froze in shock and slight fear, because what did that mean? He fucked you too hard in your personal opinion, and your poor slit agreed.

“Y-you did though…?” You were unsure of what was happening, his gaze not giving anything away.

“Get back on the bed. I didn’t say I was done with you.” Your eyes widened, taking a moment too long to register what he said before his foot took a step closer to you and you scrambled back onto the sheet-less bed in a panic. He paused, observing you again, before tilting his head.

“Next time I’m done with you, don’t move” he’s undoing his pants again, and moving towards you.

“I’ll fuck you good this time.” His words menacing and mean, and you’re left with little wiggle room as he closes in.

It’s his job after all to clean you up and piece you back together, and if you can fix yourself when he’s done, he clearly didn’t a good job the first round.

I love him~~~

The ending its saddening but I feel like with time, he’d be a bit less cold with her naturally

It makes me wonder what happened during the time he was pretending to date her and what made him ultimately end up liking her to the point of wanting to keep her

I don’t know if your busy rn but there is a shortage in FEITAN x readers books and ya girl is dying. I know your inbox is like huge probably but anyways.. IF YOU DO TYSM AND IF YOU DONT TYSM FOR READING ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😻😻😻🥲🥲🫶🫶🫶🫶

Sorry it took so long. I hope you like this :) In this story, Feitan is similar to my others works. So he isn’t particularly very kind in the beginning. I’m working on your requests now, so if you have one don’t be afraid to send me a message or to ask one! Keep in mind that I have a couple left to do, so I’m only asking for some patience :3.

If you enjoy my stories it would be really great if you could buy me a coffee with the link in my bio 😇. HOWEVER DON’T FEEL OBLIGED TO DO SO. I’m only saying this because someone did a week ago and it felt really nice 🥹. I really enjoy writing for you guys either way 🤍✨

PS: I wanted to write another part of this, let me know if I should :)

Warnings: smut and angst.

Word count: 3455

“Be careful, don’t let your heart fool you”, my father took another sip from his coffee, “You’ve got to be sure he isn’t after our money”. “How can you say something like that?”. “I only want what’s best for you. You know that”. “I know him. He would never do anything to hurt me”, you slowly stood up. For some reason, your father’s office never seemed so small before. “Fine”, my father sighed, “Invite him over for dinner”.

You closed your eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks as you remembered the conversation with your father. You didn’t know. You really didn’t. How could you know that he was a Spider? That he was only playing a part? Right, in hindsight everything did seem a little fishy. The way he was suddenly there when you needed a shoulder to cry on. Or the way his name didn’t seem to truly ‘fit’ him. Jacob. He didn’t look like a Jacob at all. How could you be this dumb? Life isn’t like the fairytales and you were an idiot to think it could be.

“Where is she?”.

You couldn’t help but shiver. That voice used to be so familiar. So warm and soft.

“Boss told us to keep her in here”, the blonde that stood in front of the door answered. “It’s nice in there, Fei. She has a nice bed and lots of books”, a misguidingly soft voice answered.

The girl seemed so sweet, with her big glasses and her soft eyes. You couldn’t understand how she could be part of a gang like this.

“I don’t care”, Feitan coldly replied before walking past his comrades.

Your stomach started to turn. You couldn’t look at him. You wanted to keep your memories clean from any stains; to remember him the way you knew him. Kind and soft-hearted.

“Look at me”. “No”, you softly answered as you kept your gaze locked on the ground. “I said look at me”, his hands roughly grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “I don’t want to”, you almost whispered as you tried not to cry. “Look at me”.

You flinched as you felt the tip of his knife against your cheek. The same place he used to kiss you before wishing you goodnight.

You looked up at him with glossy eyes, not daring to say anything. “Are you scared?”, his cold eyes pierced through your skull. “Yes”, you softly agreed while studying his face. He was nothing like the man you used to know.

His facial features were so cold and distant. As if he was frozen in ice for hundreds of years. You couldn’t see half of his face, as it was covered with the coat he was wearing. It was decorated with a skull, making him even more morbid.

“Good”, he roughly pulled away as he lowered his knife to your throat. “Why are you doing this?”, your chin high. “Why?”, he repeated the question while once again lowering his knife. Letting the cold metal rest just beneath your collarbone. Your breathing got heavier as fear’s grip tightened around your body.

You didn’t know he wasn’t the head of this organization, that this wasn’t his plan. To you, he was the man with all the answers. The one who planned this whole scheme.

“If you want money-“, you were cut short by the back of his hand. “Only speak when I tell you to”.

He wasn’t that tall, but the way he hit you made him seem like the devil. Even though you couldn’t see, you knew there was this cruel grin on his face. You could tell by the way his eyes narrowed.

“Too hard”, his thumb grazed over your cheek. “Or you’re just too fragile”, he lowered his collar to lick up the drop of blood on his thumb. “Don’t cry”, he kneeled before you, “We’re going to have a lot more fun than this”. “Fei?”, the sweet-looking girl suddenly stood next to him. “What, Shizuku?”, Feitan sighed before standing up again. “Boss said not to hurt her, remember?”, her finger resting on her lip. “Tsk”, he clicked his tongue before leaving. “Don’t worry”, the girl cheerfully smiled, “We only need some kind of code. I’m sure your father will give it to us soon”. “Code?”, your eyes widened, “H-he won’t give it!”, you hastily got up from the bed you were sitting on. “Huh? He won’t?”, the girl widened her eyes.

You knew your father. He would never risk the nation’s, no the world’s, safety. Not even for his own daughter.

“You’re after the code for the nuclear weapons, right?”. “I guess… I don’t remember to be honest”, she looked down at the ground. “Listen, my father will never give that code. J-just ask our president-“. “But only your father knows that code, since he’s head of security”, the girl happily smiled, causing you to shiver. “Yo, Shizu”, the blonde angrily yelled from the door. “Huh?”, she looked behind her. “Shut up before you tell her our whole plan”. “Oh right”, she giggled before leaving.

——

“Get the girl, Phinks”, Feitan coldly sighed from behind your door.

You tucked your knees even tighter to your chest. You didn’t know what was going to happen. Were they going to kill you? Torture you?

“Get up”, Phinks roughly grabbed your arm and pulled you from the bed. “Let go!”, you tried to struggle, to break free from his grip. “You want me to get Feitan?”, he gritted his teeth. A threat he didn’t have to make twice.

You hastily stopped struggling, now following him into the main room of the abandoned building. The stones underneath your feet felt exceptionally cold, and the nightgown you were wearing didn’t really help to keep you warm.

“She’s freezing”, a voice too soft now greeted your ears, “Put this on her”.

You looked up to a tall figure. His hair was pitch black and there was this kind of cross tattooed on his forehead. He was an exceptionally good-looking man, but somehow his skin was just as cold-looking as Feitan. It didn’t match his kind voice at all.

“Here”, Phinks threw the coat at your feet. “I said put it on”, the dark-haired man smiled, “She can’t put it on when her hands are tied, can she? “Tsk”, the blonde picked up the coat before throwing it over your shoulders.

You scanned the room. There were about 10 people in the room. Some of them just looked evil, but others looked as innocent as a child. Especially a blonde-haired guy with big, green eyes.

“Your father won’t give us the code. Do you-”, the soft voice broke through your thoughts. “Who are you?“.

“Huh?”, you froze in fear as Feitan’s knife was once again pressed to the soft skin of your neck. You didn’t see him move. It felt as if he had just teleported to you.

“Tsk”, his eyes found yours, “How dare you interrupt boss?”. “Come now, Feitan”, the man now walked towards you, stopping before you. Without any warning, his fingers glided over your cheek, “You couldn’t contain yourself before, but you have to now”. Feitan immediately stepped away from you, discontent hidden in his eyes. “Feitan has a hard time holding himself back from… Fun”, the man smiled, “But it seems he did his best with you. I rarely get to see a hostage without any cuts or broken fingers”. “Lucky me”, you sarcastically answered while holding eye contact. “Yes, but keep in mind that luck doesn’t last forever”, he chuckled. “I’m Chrollo. Head of the Spiders”, he walked back to the stairs he was sitting on earlier. “My father isn’t going to give up the code. Not even for me”. “Yes, he made that very clear”, Chrollo replied. “Let me go and I promise my father will give you a generous reward”, your heart racing. “We have more than enough money. Besides, we can’t let you go. You know all of our names. Well… you’ll get to know them”. “What does that mean?”, you took a step back. “Feitan wanted you as a reward during this mission. So whether we’ll get the code or not, you’re not leaving”, Chrollo’s eyes glittered in the dark. “I-I don’t want to”, you started to panic. “Don’t care”, Feitan’s voice was only fuel to your fear. “From now on, you belong to Feitan”, Chrollo signaled Phinks to free your hands. “Keep the coat. I don’t think Feitan cares if you’re cold. You’ll be at least warm that way”, Chrollo spoke as if Feitan wasn’t there. “Right”, Feitan smirked. “At least get her some proper clothing, Fei”, Chrollo coldly looked at his Spider before dismissing everyone.

——

“Here”, Feitan threw a couple of bags on your bed the next day. “Proper clothes”, he leaned against the door.

After Chrollo dismissed everyone, Feitan took you with him to the house he was currently living in. It was a big and luxurious house. It wasn’t really decorated with furniture, only the necessary things like a couch, a dinner table, some paintings on the wall… And the room you were staying in was just as empty. There was a bed, a luxurious bathroom, and a big, walk-in closet that was empty of course.

“Proper clothes?”, your brows pulled together as you pulled a dress out of one of the bags. “This is a Prada dress?”. “I want you to look pretty”, Feitan looked up at the ceiling. “I’ll get you clothes every week. They won’t last long anyway”, his eyes now darted to yours.

Your stomach turned. You could only imagine what he was going to do to you.

“Wear this one for now”, Feitan slowly walked to your bed before handing you another bag. “For dinner. Hired some chef”. “I’m not hungry”, you clenched your jaw. “I don’t care”, he once again grabbed your jaw, “You’ll do as I say. Got it?”, his lips hovering next to your ear. “I’ve been kind until now, haven’t I? I behaved, so you’ll behave too”.

You didn’t answer, you just nodded in response.

“Good. Now put it on”, he leaned back. “N-now?”, you looked up at him with fear in your eyes. “Yes, want to see your body one last time before I have fun with it”. “What do you mean?”, you tried to keep your voice steady. “Put it on”, his cold gaze let you know his patience was running thin.

With shaking hands, you pulled out the nightgown you were wearing from when Feitan kidnapped you. You weren’t wearing anything underneath it, but that didn’t faze you. Feitan had seen your body many times by now. He used to place kisses all over it, making you feel like no one ever had before.

“This one?”, you covered your breasts with your arm. “Yes”, he got closer. You pulled out a beautiful, black dress from the back.

It wasn’t especially short, but it wasn’t long either. The fabric ended just above your knees. It was a tight dress until your belly, where it opened up like a flower. It was a beautiful dress, no doubt about it.

“I’ll close it”, Feitan guided you to a mirror before his hands glided along your waist.

His touch didn’t seem rough at all. It felt just as before.

“You like it?”, he took a step back when he zipped up the dress for you. “Hm”, you nodded in agreement. “Dinner’s at 7”, he cleared his throat before leaving you again.

——

You couldn’t eat. There was this lump in your throat that made it feel like you’d throw up if any kind of food entered your mouth.

“I thought sushi was your favorite”, Feitan was sitting on the other end of the table. “It is”, you hastily picked up some food, fearing what might happen if you didn’t eat. “It’s really good”, your eyes widened.

You didn’t realize how much your body needed some kind of fuel. You didn’t eat for at least 2 days now, and you only realized now how hungry you truly were.

“One of the best sushi chefs”, Feitan looked at the kitchen behind him where the chef was preparing more food. He seemed in distress, probably because Feitan made sure he wouldn’t tell a soul you were with him.

After dinner, Feitan guided you back to your room.

“Can I go to sleep?”, you softly asked as you sat down on your bed. “Sleep?”, he tilted his head, “No, it’s time for me to have some fun”. “Fun?”, your breathing started to fasten. “Fun”, his eyes lit up before roughly grabbing your arm and pulling you to another room.

There was nothing in the room except for a chair and a bed. Without any warning, he threw you on the bed and tied your wrists to it.

“What are you going to do?”, your eyes already glossy. “Whatever I want”, a knife in his hand as he slowly crawled on top of you. “I’ve wanted to take you like this since the first time we met”, his nose taking in the scent of your hair. “You know how hard it is to hold back when you’re this pretty? It was almost hard for me to finish at times because you were so boring… Always begging me to kiss you, to take you slow, … I hated it”.

You didn’t answer. There was nothing for you to say. Even when he showed some kindness earlier, you should’ve prepared yourself for this.

He swiftly cut the straps of your dress with his knife, causing it to slide down just beneath your breasts. “Stay still”, his knife firmly pressed against your throat as he noticed you were starting to kick your legs. “Please”, tears streamed down your cheek as he licked up a drop of your blood. “Don’t worry, you’re going to like this”, he looked into your eyes before cupping your cheek, “I’ll be rough, but I won’t be a monster. I know you’re body and when it’s ready for me. Even though you won’t admit it, I know you’ve been craving my touch. I saw it earlier when you were undressing in front of me… Your legs were rubbing against each other when I zipped up your dress. You only do that when you want me”.

Yes. No. Maybe. You knew he was right. Earlier… You wanted him, but you tried to push those thoughts away as much as you could. He wasn’t the man you knew. He was a psychopath, how could you want someone like him?

“Now, stay still”, his nails dug into the soft flesh of your waist as he pulled up your dress with the other. “Feitan, please”, another tear was streaming down your cheek. “Say it. Tell me you want me to stop”, his knee pushed your legs open as his digits hovered over your most sensitive spot. “I’ll stop if you do”, a devilish smirk in his eyes.

But you didn’t want him to. You didn’t care if he was going to be rough, or if he was even going to hurt you. You wanted him.

“See?”, he chuckled at a lack of answer. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You’ve never been this wet for me”, he softly bit on your shoulder. You closed your eyes as you were still trying to fight yourself. “I asked you a question”, his hand wrapped around your throat as he bit your shoulder again. Only harder this time. “S-shit”, you cried out in pain. “I’m going to cover you in bitemarks for ignoring my question”, he loosened his grip around your neck while his fingers slowly entered you. “Fuck”, you arched your back as he left bite marks on your body.

You couldn’t deny it any longer. He made you feel good, better than he ever did.

“Tsk”, Feitan frowned when you came undone around his fingers, “Wasn’t expecting you to enjoy this”. “I-I’m not”, you avoided his gaze as your cheeks turned red. “Liar”, he softly hummed while undressing himself.

Your eyes were glued to his body. Now it was clear why he never took off his shirt.

“Who did that to you?”, you quietly whispered as you noticed his scars. For a second, his eyes widened while his lips were slightly parted.

There was this short-lived moment in his mind where he wanted to let you in and where he wanted you to care for him. An unwilling memory of your arms wrapped around him flashed before his eyes.

“Shut up”, his eyes went dark again, “Don’t talk”.

Afraid of being enchanted by your warm voice again, he thought it better not to hear your voice at all.

He didn’t ask if you were ready for him. It was unnecessary. By now, your legs are already wrapped willingly around his waist. “Feitan”, your eyes closed as his forehead was pressed against yours. “Don’t”, Feitan grunted as he got even rougher, “I don’t want you to enjoy this”.

That was a lie. He wanted you to, more than anything. It wasn’t his intention for you to enjoy this, and he surely didn’t want to leave you so perfectly. In his mind, he wanted to hurt you, to make you bleed, just as he did with all those before you. That’s what he enjoyed. Torture. Not this. This wasn’t like him, and it made him mad but there was nothing he could do. He didn’t want to hurt you, more so, it would even make him feel bad about himself.

“Sorry”, your lips pressed against each other as a whisper left your chest. “Fuck”, he grunted in agitation.

He didn’t know what to do, but this didn’t feel right.

“Tell me”, he clenched his jaw at the realization of how soft he had gotten for you. “W-what?”, you looked to the side. “Tell me you want me, please”, his eyes were glued to a bitemark he left.

He couldn’t lie. The bruises looked so good on your body, but only because you enjoyed it. If he did something like that while you were crying, begging him to stop…

“I want you, Feitan”, your soft voice melted something inside him as if a fire was lit inside his heart. “Even now? Even when you see who I truly am?”.

“Even now”.

Without thinking twice, he cut the rope that was holding you down.

“Touch me. Like you used to”, he softly grabbed your wrist before placing your hand on the back of his head.

You obeyed as you softly tugged at his dark hair.

“I don’t want to take you slowly like I used to, Y/N”. “You don’t have to”, your legs tightened around his waist.

That was all he needed to hear. Without any hesitation, his lips crashed against yours.

“You feel so good”, your breathing got heavier as you could feel he was getting close. “Yeah?”, his voice low, “Want me to breed you?”. You hastily nodded as you could feel yourself getting closer to your own climax. “Really?”, he chuckled, “You never let me come inside you before. Always crying about being scared to get pregnant”. “P-please Feitan”, you arched your back. “Don’t worry. I’m going to fill you up this time, whether you want me to or not”.

Your legs now started to shake as you came undone around him.

“That’s it. Good girl”, Feitan grabbed your jaw, “Now look at me and beg”. “P-please Fei, want you to come inside me”. “Want me to put a baby in you? Making you mine forever?”. “P-please”.

Feitan couldn’t contain himself any longer. With heavy breaths and low grunts, he let his head rest against your shoulder.

“Never felt so good”, he slowly pulled out, before placing a soft kiss on the bitemark he left on your shoulder. “Hm”, you happily smiled.

He didn’t know why he decided to act cold again. Honestly, he hated himself for it, but there was something inside him. A feeling he never felt before. Was it fear? Was he scared that you were going to leave him? No. You couldn’t leave him. He kidnapped you and you had nowhere to go. It was something else. He knew you weren’t going to leave, but he was scared you were going to hate him for what he did. Or rather, for who he was. You didn’t know the real him.

“Don’t think this will happen again”, he coldly got up, “You won’t enjoy this next time”.

You lowered your eyes as you watched him put on his clothes.

“Can I-“.

“Go to your room and shower. I don’t care what you do for the rest of the night”, he clenched his jaw before leaving you alone.

I love love love Feitan so much

I wanna give him those kids so badly

Make that happy lil life it’s so sweet

I want you to (part 2)

Here's a part 2, hopefully you'll enjoy it just as much. I'm going to work on your requests again. Enjoy reading 🤍✨

PS: I really want to continue Soft Spot, anyone any ideas? 🥰

WARNINGS: smut - angst

Word count: 1979

“I got something for you”, a soft smile on his face. “An envelope?”, I frowned. “Open it”, a spark in his eyes. “No, you didn’t. How did you get tickets to the opening of his art show? W-we weren’t invited”. “Well, now you are”, he chuckled. “How did you-“. “Doesn’t matter”, he gestured for me to come over, “Everything for my princess”. “Thank you”, I hastily sat down on his lap before plastering kisses all over his face. “I can’t believe I get to be one of the first persons to see his work”. 

I sighed as I relived the memory. How could he fake something like that? He seemed so content, so proud of himself for making me happy… Now, he wanted nothing more than to see me cry. It all felt so cruel to me; so unfair.

“I don’t want to today”, my eyes glued to the floor as I sat down on the bed. “I don’t care”, his hand softly wrapped around my throat, “I’m going to make you mine”. “I’m already yours”, I whispered as my hands were tied behind my back. “Because I force you to”, he took a step back. 

I rubbed my wrists together, to loosen the rope around them. I didn’t understand why he tied my wrists together, there was nowhere for me to go; nowhere I could go. 

“Blue suits you well”, his eyes studied the lingerie he chose for me, “Goes well with those bruises I gave you yesterday”. 

A sudden hate started to rise to my throat. I didn’t want him to find me pretty. At least not like this.

“Those aren't bruises”, I narrowed my eyes, “You bit me”. “Only because you were acting like a brat”, he roughly grabbed my jaw. “Let go”, I tried to pull away. “Again? Haven’t you learned your lesson?”, a disgusted look on his face. 

Feitan never hurt me. At least not like he hurt others. Sure, he bit me, he sometimes even scratched my back a little too hard, but he never cut me. He never even tried to break my fingers or my leg. He never did any real damage. 

“What are you going to do? Bite me? Like a dog?”, a defiant look in my eyes. “Watch it”, his eyes grew dark. “Or what? I’m not scared of you”, I sat up straight. 

 H-huh?, my eyes widened as I felt the back of his hand against my cheek. This was the second time he hit me. It was a sudden reminder of his strength. 

“On your hands and knees”, his voice colder than usual as he freed my hands. “N-no”, I loudly swallowed. “I won’t hold back this time”. 

He didn’t need to raise his hand. The way he looked at me was more than enough to make me obey. 

“Good”, he got behind me as his fingers gently traced over my spine. I flinched once I felt his cold fingertips. “Oh? What’s wrong?”, he mocked as his hand wrapped around my hair. Without saying anything else, he pulled my head back as his lips hovered next to my ear. 

“Scared?”. 

“Yes”, I tried to hold back tears. 

It was best to just go along, to give him what he wanted.

“I thought you weren’t scared of me”, he pushed my head into a pillow as his other hand gently pulled my panties down. “N-no”, my knees pulled together like magnets. “Don’t”, he softly pulled them back open with his knee. A chuckle as he looked down, his digits already where my body needed them the most. 

I closed my eyes in shame. I didn’t want him to notice how much my body needed him.  

“I’m going to breed you until you can’t walk anymore”, his tip already pressed against my entrance. “Even when I hit you, when I hurt you, you’re body still wants me to fuck you. Isn’t that funny?”. 

“Please Feitan”, I closed my eyes, not sure what I was pleading for. I didn’t want him to stop, but I didn’t want him to continue either. It was a constant battle. 

“I can’t wait to see your belly”, he grunted as he pushed in, “You’re going to look fucking perfect with my baby inside you”. 

“F-fei-“, I lifted myself as he pushed even deeper. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight”, he chuckled as he picked up the pace, “I want to see you cry, you know that? I want to see that cute nose turn pink, your eyes all swollen… But you’re already used to this, aren’t you? You’re used to being my pretty doll that I get to fuck whenever I want”. 

Used? I didn’t need to get used to it. I enjoyed it every time. Even if I cried, even if I begged him to stop... I never really wanted him to.  

“W-wait”, I tried to protest as he flipped me onto my back. “What if I carve my name in your skin, would you cry then?”, a sudden edge in his tone.

I closed my eyes in response. I didn’t want to see the look in his eye; the joy he felt.

“Tsk”, he clicked his tongue as he got more rough. It seemed that he got agitated for an unknown reason. 

He didn’t want you to know how soft he was for you. He really wanted you to be scared for him, but he didn’t enjoy seeing you like this. He couldn't keep this up. His heart ached at your hurt.

“Don’t worry”, he softly guided my chin so I could look at him, “Won’t do stuff like that. Not to you”. 

An unwilling flutter in my stomach. 

“J-just keep going”, I arched my back. “Don’t worry”, he let his head rest against mine. A sign he wanted to feel my touch. “You’re such a good boy”, my hands gently wrapped around him, “You’re always making me feel so good”. 

He didn’t know what happened inside him; why there was this sudden warmth running through his veins. 

“More”, a whisper I could barely hear. “You’re going to make me come”, I gently grabbed his hand, guiding it to where I needed him the most. “Fuck Feitan”, I smiled as my breaths got heavier, “You’re making me feel so good”. 

He pulled away. His eyes were now glued to my face. There was this unsure look on his face; as if he didn’t understand what was happening. 

“I want you to come with me”, my eyes rolled to the back of my head, “Want you to fill me up. W-want to have your baby”. “Y/N-“, his eyes widened as I pulled him closer each time he pushed into me. He didn’t answer. For the first time, he stayed quiet. ‘F-fei”, I softly sighed as I came undone. He followed shortly, but there was no warning when he came. No sigh, no moan, nothing. 

“Feitan?”, I sat up straight as he got dressed. “I’m going to tape your mouth shut next time”, he sat down next to me again, “You’re getting too confident”. 

My eyes went round in disbelief as I noticed a smile on his face. 

“I want to have twins”, his smile disappeared again, “A boy and a girl and I’m going to give them everything I didn’t have. A loving mother, a warm house, toys, books, … I want to go on holidays together, I want to celebrate Christmas, I-“, he suddenly paused. “I know you don’t want to be mine, but I know you’re going to give our children everything they need”, he looked to the ceiling, “Just as I know you’d protect them with your life if necessary”. 

He was beautiful when he showed his soft side. I could look at him forever when he was like this. 

“I need to go out at night, for work. I’ll see you in the morning”, he placed an awkward kiss on my temple, a gesture he probably never meant before. "And don’t try to leave. I’ll have someone here to watch you”. 

—-

“Get up”, his cold voice rang from behind the door, “Breakfast is ready”. I wanted to rebel, to tell him I wasn’t hungry, but it would be futile. “Y/N?”, he raised his voice from a lack of response. “Just a minute”, I forced myself to answer before putting on the clothes he laid out for me. 

Every day, around 6 AM, he’d come into my room and neatly lay out clothes for me. Yesterday it was a short skirt with a Ralph Lauren sweater, the day before there was a beautiful, pink dress… 

“I want to wear sweatpants”, I sighed while I adjusted my skirt. For some reason, he gave me an extra short, black dress today, paired with some Lousboutins. Needless to say, I didn’t feel very comfortable. “Hm?”, he raised an eyebrow as he took a bite from his toast. “N-nothing”, I hastily forced a smile on my face. “Eat”, his eyes low. 

God, I hated this silence. There was nothing left for me to do other than wait. 

“I need you to do something for me”. “What?”, I softly replied. “Went out last night”, his brows pulled together, “I need you to take care of me”. “Take care of you?”. “I’m hurt”, he slowly stood up, “I need stitches”. “I-I can’t… I’ve never-“. “Bathroom”, he interrupted my nervous pleas. “B-but-“. “Won’t ask you twice”, his cold eyes stared into mine. 

I nervously shuffled behind him, scared to admit that I couldn’t stand the sight of blood. 

“I’d normally ask Machi”, he grunted as he leaned against the sink, “But she’s on a mission”. “Okay”, I wrapped my arms around my waist as he took off his shirt. “See?”, he looked down at the wound. 

My stomach started to turn. Feitan had wrapped a bandage around his waist in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but the once-white fabric had already turned red. 

“Here”, he grabbed a couple of things out of the cabinet. “D-don’t you need something for the pain?”, I slowly walked closer. “It’s fine”, he grunted as he got rid of the bandage. 

Right. I should’ve known better than to look at the wound. 

“What?”, his cold eyes grew more tired by the second. “N-nothing”, I tried to get some feeling in my fingers by shaking my hands. “Hurry, it hurts”, he let his head fall back. I nodded before I cleaned his wound. 

So far, so good.

“Shit”, Feitan grunted at the stinging sensation of the disinfectant. “Sorry”, I softly responded before looking at the needle. “It’s fine, just hurry”, he looked to the side. “S-so”, I cleared my throat as I held out the needle. 

I couldn’t do this. I knew I couldn’t. Why did I even try? 

“Think 8 stitches are enough”, he pulled his brows together as he examined the wound. 

I just nodded as my head started to spin. The wound looked even more awful as blood kept dripping down onto the cold tiles. 

“Y/N?”, Feitan’s voice sounded strange. As if he was yelling from far away. “Y/N?”, he repeated as dark spots took over my sight. “Fuck”, he gritted his teeth before catching me. 

—-

“Hm?”, I grunted as I tried to figure out where I was. “Finally”, Feitan sighed, “You were out for a couple of hours”. “A couple of hours?!”. “You were probably tired. It’s not like you sleep much at night”. “H-how do you know?”. “Doesn’t matter”, he placed a bag on my lap. “What’s this?”, my brows pulled together. “Sweatpants and a sweater”, a discontent look on his face, “You wanted some, right?”. “Y-yeah”, I softly replied. “I got some more clothes. They’re already in your closet. Wear whatever you like”. "Y-your wound-", I didn't care about the clothes. "Already took care of it", he lifted his shirt, "Now get some rest. You're tired".

This has to be one of my top fav Feitan fics now

Oh my god I love him so much this story brought me so much joy

I love a bit of a softer Feitan, and a sweet Mc with Stockholm is soo cute

And the somnophilia at the end had me going lol

Love this story

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

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

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

For eight months you'd been his. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The basement was cold. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man's screams. 

Your ears ring trying to drown the screeches out. 

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

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

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

"Please- just kill me "

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

"No."

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

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

"Go to hell," 

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

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

You weren't watching. 

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

So his focus was on you. 

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

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

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

"Not watching." He hissed. 

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry."

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

"Are you going to kill me?"

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

"But my room?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sat on the bed. 

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

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

"Relax. Won't hurt you."

You gripped the sheets tighter, "Okay."

"Don't believe me."

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

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

Huh? "I- can go out?"

"With me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

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

"Feitan?"

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

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

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

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

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

"What."

"Are we..?"

"Don't understand."

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

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

"Okay."

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

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

-

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

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

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

"You look... happy." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

Breathe in. Out.

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach plummeted. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SLAM. 

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N."

You don't respond.

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

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

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

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

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

"I thought you regretted it." 

"Never."

"I feel.. dumb." You said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gonna fuck you. All mine." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feitan relished in the sight of his cock fucking into you, disappearing into your depth, his hips flushed with your own. And each time he pulled out, the sight of your bloodied cum on his length made him shudder. He gathered your discharge on his thumb and used it to coat your clit, relentlessly rubbing over it. His hips started to move again, desperately forcing himself deeper as he played with your bud. Your cunt spasming around him again as you attempted to escape his onslaught of overstimulation. 

"T-Too much- can't Fei-"

"Never push me away," He threatened, leaning down to nip at your ear, "Will punish you."

You whimpered but the way your cunt opened up for him told him all he needed to know-- the pain, the helplessness, he was turning you on. Straightening again he continued to fuck into you, swiping over your clit, far past the point of pleasing you, rough thrusts hitting your g-spot over and over. You let out an honest to god cry as your third orgasm hit, words thick and hard to understand but Feitan understood how you begged and pleaded for him. 

Feitan gripped your hips harder so he could drive into you at a relentless pace, throwing his head back, looking up to the ceiling as he gave you all he had. You pulsed around him all swollen and tight and he knew he wouldn't last much longer,

"Gonna fill you up. Take my cum in your pussy. Mine. My pussy- you're mine." Feitan was past the point of keeping quiet as his possessiveness slammed into him full force. The thought of his cum painting your insides and leaking out... 

Falling forward he crushed his mouth onto yours, giving several long thrusts before his vision whited out as he came. Cock twitching as he filled you to the brim, hips stuttering all the way against you, hot, thick ropes of cum coating you. Claiming you. Becoming one with you. 

His pace slowed but his lips never left yours, the two of you panting into each other as you came down. Feitan pulled away, resting his forehead to yours, your eyes meeting. Vulnerability. Like truly seeing each other for the first time. He stroked your cheekbones carefully, trying to sense any fear. But nothing. Your eyes shone with a million stars as you shuddered, staring at him, hips twitching as he pulled out. Leaving you emptier than you'd ever been. 

Feitan pulled away, dropping back to his knees, carefully stroking along where he'd carved his name into your skin, stroking down your waist then to your thighs. His touch cold, addictive as he thumbed along your leaking folds, his cum beginning to drip down. "Mine."

"Yours."

He stared at you before his cheeks tinted pink, "I'm yours too. Only yours. Don't care about stupid woman I tortured, just my job. You're my.. life. Won't give you space again, won't run if I get scared, this was all my fault, I didn't want to bring you pain. I'll make it up to you." 

Your eyes widen with love filling them, a stupidly happy grin washing over you from the gravity of his words, "I love you." 

Feitan froze like he was in head on collision, by your proclamation. Love. Did he deserve that? No. He didn't deserve your love but he couldn't deny the happiness he felt in his chest and how his pulse skyrocketed, "Love you as well."

Feitan laid at your side, stroking along your body as sleep eventually overcame you. You seemed so innocent, so small lying in his arms like that. Watching you sleep was a favorite pastime, but knowing you slumbered with his cum buried in you was enough to entrance him back into your gravity. 

Your passed out form hardly reacted to his touches, soft moans as he slid his fingers in and out of your leaking cunt. Little twitches as he sucked on your nipples. And you stayed asleep as he slipped his re-hardened cock back inside of your abused cunt, full heartedly welcoming him in. 

The bed creaked and thumped against the wall as he let loose, let his grunt and sobs loudly leave him as he fucked you full once more. This was heaven. Pure bliss. Not even torturing made him feel this way, so high, so invincible. Feitan indulged in you until he was a whiny overstimulated mess, heaving atop you and leaving even more marks. He fucked you until he couldn't cum anymore, dumping two more loads into your pussy that became swollen and tight, a perfect fit for his cock. 

It was then that he could finally sleep, curled up next to your limp body holding you flush. He pet your hair possessively as you subconsciously cuddled into him further, blood pounding in his ears. The fact you'd been jealous made his chest soar. You hated someone for having his attention because you wanted it. You loved him for him. And it was then that he could finally drift off to sleep, content knowing you were filled with him. His.

This was really cute I love the budding relationship. She’s a lil dummy and Feitan is Feitan and it’s works so adorably

I also feel like maybe when they were younger they did like an anime style “When I’m older imma marry you” type thing and that’s why he’s so set on being with her and she just doesn’t remember at least that’s the vibes I get from it

I love it, it was short but I love this

Can you see me too?

feitan x reader

Summary:

“Can you see me too?” He leans in slightly, your hands still in his.    You don’t know how to actually answer that. You’re looking right at him so that can’t be what he means. Or that you see him everyday at school. Feitan is asking something deeper, something you were probably wrong about.    “I’m learning too, Feitan.”

tw: mention of violence, drugs, fluff. ooc Feiten? a VERY quick write might be mistakes

“Dismissed.”

You stretch your legs before getting up. It’s happening again, that heavy feeling that creeps up on you. This has been happening a lot and you don’t like it. The chill is running up your back, making you stiff. Quickly, you gather your things and leave. Being one of the first ones out of the class, the sensation of someone’s eyes leaves. 

  Taking a deep breath, you begin to relax for a moment. Lately, someone’s been watching you and you are too afraid to see who it is. At first, you wanted to turn around and spot the gremlin. However, the person who was next to you had fear in his eyes when he looked over your shoulder. After seeing that, you gave up that idea. Especially when you had a feeling of who it or they were. 

   Being a senior, there is a group that grew up with you in elementary before you moved away for some time. Unfortunately, rather than just be normal human beings, the rumors say otherwise. Shady shit that’s illegal and atrocious. Violence and blood paint their fingertips like polish, the red not leaving without prayer for the sin. And possibly, if the rumors are true, the drugs that leave the addicts and the curious in a trance.

  At first, you just addressed them by their names since you all went to school together. But by the time everyone went into high school, they collectively were called the Phantom Troupe, or the Spider. You want to laugh at the name of their little gang since they were big nerds back in the third grade plays. 

Their acting troupe name.

Hearing it for the first time, you didn’t take it seriously until you saw it with your own eyes. Each of them ganged up on a group from another school. The Troupe was vicious and merciless. Only a few witnessed the fight, you being one of them on accident. You barely saw what scared the hell out of everyone. 

  Someone lost their eyes. You could see a few moments of the fight but you missed that gruesome part. And thank God you did. 

After that, you became fearful and no longer saw them as the kids that shared a class with you since kindergarten. 

  Now, the eyes that have been watching you everyday, you are sure it belongs to one of them. Or maybe that one stiff doll-like guy Illumi? Or the Troupe’s newest member that is the biggest flirt and an absolute freak, Hisoka. 

   When people talk to you, they must see who's watching. The reactions are all the same. Even your friend who is quick to grab you and lead you away from the stalker. 

  Did you do something wrong? Are they after you or something? Want to sell you some drugs? That little one with the long hair, Kortopi, always stands in the corners watching everyone whenever he’s not with his gang. You’re sure he’s the main dealer. Just look at him.

   So badly do you want to turn around and stomp into the classroom and demand who the fuck has been staring at you. Alas, it’s not a smart move. At least not right now. After you put your school shoes in your cubby, you feel it again. That cold intensity that causes you to shiver. For the first time, you feel it closer. Like, a few feet away type thing. 

   You shove your regular shoes on and take off out the door, not bothering to wait and say goodbye to your friend. On your way home, you still feel the eyes on you. This is exhausting beyond belief. This is worse than gym class. 

  How long can this person keep this up? Why are they watching you in the first place? Do they just want to talk to you and they’re too shy? If that’s the case, you’d show some leniency since you can be a bit of a shy bug, too. 

   As you turn the corner and see the small, family owned diner to your left, the eyes disappear. You walk faster with a light and peppy step. They could have gone home and abandoned the stalking.

   Suddenly, you’re against a tree with someone’s arms placed firmly against it, trapping you. The sun has decided to shine brightly and highlight his face. It is none other than Feitan Portor. 

   Never have the two of you been so close. Not friendly or physically. His lower face is covered by a cowl for some reason and his eyes are, surprisingly, looking like they’re different colors. They’re dark, but one is slightly deeper. His cheekbones are defined and right on top are slight freckles against his ghostly pale skin. 

   Words are stolen for what feels like minutes. Finally, your fears get the best of you. 

“Oh my God…you want to sell me drugs?” You are on the verge of crying when he has narrowed eyes. “My mom’s gonna be so mad at me. I don’t want drugs!”

  “Fei, is this her?” A tall blond, Phinks, if you remember right, comes around the corner with extremely light steps. The rest of the Troupe appear too. “No, God no. Don’t sell me drugs!”

They all stop and look at you. Each bearing an expression fit for a sitcom scene.

  “She’s not allowed to be high. Look at her, she’s the paranoid type.” The biggest one, Uvo, states. “She’s gonna turn herself in for something she didn’t even do.”

Dear Lord, they already know how high you’d be? What are they planning? You can’t go home like that. 

   Portor says nothing. He doesn’t even bother to ask which drug you’d want. Phinks steps forward. “Look, Fe-”

“Oh God…I don’t have money! Stopping giving me drugs.” Tears well in your eyes and you shake your head slowly, facing the ground.  

“We didn’t…give you anything? No one wants to give you drugs. Trust me.” You hear someone promise.

“Why you here?” He asks with his whispery voice. 

“Because I was going home and you-” He shuts you up with one look. 

They talk among themselves while Feitan Portor doesn’t move himself away from you. Your mom is going to be pissed if you come with drugs. 

“Is it crack?” You whisper. “For God’s sake-stop that! No one is going to give you anything!” Machi puts her hand on her hips as she yells at you. 

  “Is it, like, a toe? An eyeball? Please no, no-”

Porter’s soft voice cuts through yours. “Stop.”

“Mom’s going to be so mad at me if I have a random toe again.” You try to wiggle out from his trap with no avail. 

   He grabs your head. “Enough,” He turns around to face his friends, covering you. Well, somewhat since he’s on the smaller side. “Go.” 

Immediately you realize that command is for you, and you take off.

---

  The next day is no better. He is still staring at you but at a closer distance. He moved someone from their seat just to sit behind you. And at lunch, he sat at another table facing you. He must want something, especially when he barely shows up for school. And now he does? 

  It’s drugs or blackmail. Murder? 

Before the day was even over, the principal called for an assembly. Begrudgingly, you enter the gym and stay close to the edge rather than the stairs. You look around for your friend but find Portor next to you instead. His thigh touches yours contently. There is not a single thing out of place with him. He looks like this is normal, regular for you two to be this close. Everyone else has a few inches between them yet he wants to be glued to you. 

   You say nothing to object. In the corner sits your friend. She “subtly” points her finger at him and mouths what he’s doing. You can’t make any sudden movements or he’ll notice. 

  “You answer her?” His voice is so soft, almost drowned out from the teenagers that the principal slowly reins in. Lucky for him, his mouth is close to your ear. 

“No need. It’s, um, like, right here. She can see this.”

He furrows his brows and asks, “Is it bad?”

You shift awkwardly, fully realizing that you’re brushing up against him. “N-no, just surprising. I mean, we haven’t talked since elementary.”

  He looks forward and says with confidence, “That change. We talk now.” 

Why? 

The principal goes on about the violence in school and how it will not be tolerated. If this continues, he will sort out that police will patrol the school. You side eye Feitan Portor who still wears his cowl covering his lower face but cannot hide his smile. 

   You’re scared. 

When the assembly is over, you jump up and try to walk down the seats rather than pass Portor to go to the stairs. A teacher yells to stop walking on the benches. You ignore her completely and blend with the crowd. Your heart is pounding. You rub your chest in an attempt to calm it. Suddenly, you feel something pressed against you right as you are seconds away from the door. 

  “God!” You shout as you see that he is right next to you with his hands in his jacket’s pockets. “Let’s go.”

“W-what about your friends? They gotta be looking for you.” He walks towards you, causing you to press against the wall and walk to the door. It’s like he’s herding you out the door. You walk stiffly next to him. The sun is hiding behind the clouds, causing the shadows to emphasize his paleness. 

  Your bag and book is snatched out of your hand. He’s carrying it and continues to walk. “H-hey!”

“Walk.” Why is he carrying your stuff? Is it collateral or something? He’s holding them hostage? Oh God, what if he wants you to do something illegal or sexual in exchange for your stuff?

  Quietly, the two of you walk to that familiar tree. “Where’s your home?”

No, no, he can’t walk you home. He’ll know where you live and that would be awful. Him having that kind of information? That’s deadly. “I-I can go the rest of the way. You probably have to head home too.” 

  You reach for your things. “No. Where is it?”

“I don’t have one.” You lie. The things he could do with your address…Lord have mercy. “Lie. Where is it? I take you home.”

  “I can go-”

“(Y/n).” He remembers your name? You remember his because so much has happened and the whole class were friends. Since you didn’t talk when you moved back this year, you didn’t think he’d remember you. 

  “Portor…”

“I walk you.” Too scared, you just agree and walk to your house with the short guy in tow. Your house comes to view. “Oh, your dad’s?”

  “How did-”

“Pool?” Your eyes dart around until you remember that you hosted a pool party once. There was a slip and slide, a kiddie pool, and sprinklers. Everyone had fun and sandwiches and chips. A few of your classmates didn’t have swimsuits so your dad had them wear old shirts for them so they could play too. Now that you think of it, he was one of those that didn’t have anything. 

  “I can’t believe you remember that.” Everything to do with your dad is mostly tucked away from your mind. Portor bringing up a memory that you vowed to cherish makes you remember how much fun everything was. It was so long ago, though. Times and people change regularly. There is no reason to hold onto a memory that didn’t last long enough, right?

  “I remember that what’s-his-name slid right through the slip and slide and into the fence.” You snap your fingers repeatedly trying to remember his name. Feitan is still friends with him. 

 “Bonolenov. He wore bandages for a while.” 

“Ah, I remember that. It still didn’t slow him down.” The two of you stand there in silence. “Well, this is me. Thanks for walking me home.”

  You reach for the bag but he walks out of your reach and heads to the door. His steps are so quiet they don’t even disturb the bugs that tread along the sidewalk to your house. 

  He stops at your door, waiting for you. “I walk you home. Not on the sidewalk.” Even though he’s surrounded with violence and blood, you can’t deny that this is sweet. Suspicious as hell, but sweet nonetheless.

  “Thank you Portor.” You bounce on your feet. “It was nice talking to you.” And for reminding me of that sunny memory.

When you finally finish the day, you don’t feel as scared as you did for some reason. 

--

  “So…what’s going on? Where’s your shadow?” Your friend whispers lowly. There is a nice breeze that refreshes the overheated students. Unfortunately, there is a terrible heat advisory that is really showing its head. You have a loose blue tank top on and blue jeans which you wished you’d traded for something shorter. If this heat is making you wear a tank top and wish for shorts or a skirt, then it is hotter than satan’s breath. 

  Speak of the devil and he’ll appear, cutting right through the crowd of students under the shade, Chrollo and his posse silently intimidate those who hid under the leaves of the school’s trees. You can’t help but roll your eyes. They throw their weight around like a 1950s gang with leather jackets and a comb to fix their over gelled hair. Hell, Chrollo actually looks like the part. 

  Your friend groans next to you and fans herself and you do the same. The principal is expecting too much. You and the rest of the crowd are liable to run back inside if they don’t finish this fire drill. 

  “It isn’t a drill, you know.” She whispers yet again. You turn to her, confused. “What’re you talking about?”

   “Do you wonder why they were the last ones out?”

  “What do you think happened?” She shrugs. “I have no idea. But it’s suspicious. People are whispering about this. I mean, isn’t it weird? This happens right after the assembly that was basically for them?”

  You contribute to her curiosity. “Not to mention the lack of patrols…”

“Oh no, there were some. Where are they now, though? They were here this morning.”

  You want to change the subject. For some reason, you do feel a slight sliver of protectiveness towards them due to the memories. “This fucking heat. I can’t take this…”

  Then, a shadow stands in front of you. “Come.”

“No.” She grabs your wrist, frowning at Portor. She doesn’t trust him at all. Honestly, she has a right not to. All of the rumors that are whispered through the walls surround him like a blanket. And his demeanor doesn't help his case. “Why?” You cut in. 

  “Come with me.” Everyone is staring at the exchange. “This isn’t funny, Portor. Pick on someone else.” 

  You put your other arm around her protectively. “Um, I’ll go. It’s fine.” You try to reassure her in some kind of way. “Then I’m coming too. What’s one more person?”

 His cowl isn’t very good at hiding his expressions. He leads the two of you without a word. Under the tree is so much cooler than you expected. You feel bad for the others. 

   “Don’t worry, there are no drugs.” Phinks says, causing his other friends to laugh at your expense. 

“What’s he talking about?” Your friend leans in and “whispers”.

“They tried to make me take drugs.” You answer. Honestly, you can’t get over that. Not the drug part but how he trapped you against a tree. It was scary and unexpected. 

“No we didn’t!” Machi or Mochi corrects with her hands on her hips. Your friend rolls her eyes at her. Normally, your friend is a little on the timid side. But when it comes to these guys, she shows her dislike as if she doesn’t shake when ordering food. 

   Portor tugs you down to the ground for you to sit. Your legs are at the side of you, curled. The normally timid friend sits in between you and Portor. “I don’t trust him…” 

“You can’t whisper at all.” You tell her. She looks offended and pouts. The only noises are the few murmurs among the schoolmates and the subtle wind in the air. Still, there has been no word from the teachers. Perhaps your friend was right. 

   “Move.” Portor’s voice is soft yet firm. He stares directly at your friend with an indifferent expression. She scoffs and answers with a no. “Absolutely not.”

  “Babe, I don’t think this is a good idea.” You actually whisper. She turns to you wearing a frown. “And these people have good ones?”

  “You have no idea.” Bonolenov says. You can’t tell if he’s joking or not. There is a tense feeling in the atmosphere that reminds you of anxiety. That fight or flight response that just won’t go away as you sit in front of them. 

  “Babe…please do what he says.” You squeeze her hand once. With nonverbal agreement, she moves over for him to sit next to you. “I sit here, okay?”

  “Okay, Portor.” Your friend glares at everyone. She is rightfully suspicious of everyone. There are so many negative things said that taints their image. And their teasing isn’t doing them any favors against the allegations. 

  Your thighs touch his on accident. The wind gives a harsh blow, slightly moving his cowl. You spot a flush on his cheeks.  “Are you hot? Why not take this off?”

  You give light tugs to his jacket. “No.”

“This?” You gently move the fabric from his face. His cheeks are warm and have a youthful roundness to them. “There’s no reason to bake in the sun.”

He removes it then to your surprise, gives it to you. You thank him and don’t mention that his face is red. If you were vain, you’d think it’s because of you. But the sun is out and it’s hot. 

Your friend is bug eyed at the sight with her head cocked slightly.

  “So, this has been weird. We’re going home.” She picks you up by your arm and makes way out of the shade. You are quickly pulled towards your shadow. “Go away.”

  “Portor…”

“And leave her with you? ” She points to him. His face hardens and before anyone can make a move, you rush to intervene. “It’s alright!” You say a little too quickly and grab his hand and leave. She shouts at you as you run away. “Toots! Are you crazy?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” You yell back at her. “If you live that long! He even smells insane!”

  “ Bye!”

--

You take him and run, completely sure that you’re safe. Maybe it’s because he was nice to you and remembered the pool party. It could be how quiet he is, not needing to fill the silence. It’s relaxing that way. 

   “Here we are.” You stop in front of your house again. The plain beige paneling and the lackluster decor. The lawn needs to be mowed, you note. 

 Just as you are about to head inside your home, he grabs your hand and leads you away. His hands have calluses on them and are bigger than yours. They are paler than the upper part of his face, too. He puts them in his pockets and occasionally wears gloves, so that could be the culprit. 

   You turn around and look back at your house. Feitan squeezes your hand roughly and yanks you. You frown and debate on tugging it free. Like he read your mind, he pulls you closer. His already thin eyes squint in suspicion. 

  The little shop is small and has large windows with writing on them. The drawings are clearly done by kids. A sun in the upper corner, a tiny snowman with a large nose and a crooked hat, and so many more. 

  The bell dings when the two of you open the door. The old man at the counter perks up at the sound and smiles widely at you. 

 “Well aren’t you cute!” The old man coos. The apples of his cheeks are red and his smile makes his laugh lines more prominent, a testimony of the joy in his life. His brown eyes are small but they have a twinkle in them. He reminds you of Old Saint Nick but without the beard. 

   Portor holds two fingers up. “Crepe.” The old man puts his hand on his chin then leans into Portor’’s ear. The old baker doesn’t notice the glare he’s getting or the danger leaking from him. 

“How about you two share?” He whispers. Portor side eyes the old man. The guy clicks his tongue and finger guns at Portor. All the while, he remains silent. 

 “What flavor?” 

“Um, what would you like?” You don’t know if he likes the same thing as you. He answers with confidence. “Chocolate. You like chocolate.”

  “Well, how about the lover’s special? It’s the right amount of sweet and pretty, just like your lady.” Your cheeks get warm and you instinctively cover them. 

  “My lady would like something to drink.” My lady. Just what is he getting at? You haven’t talked to him since the science fair or a play, maybe? Nah, he’s probably being sarcastic because of what the old man said.

  “One lover’s twist, coming up.” 

You see a table and walk towards it then are interrupted by the older man who decides to direct you to a red booth that has a rounded top. If you were to look at it right, it’d remind you of a heart. “The lighting is better over here, if I may.”

  Portor sits in front of you as quiet as ever. “Why did you want to come here? I’m sure you and your friends have something to do.”

Something illegal, no doubt. 

Portor taps his fingers on the table. His eyes snap to yours when he catches you staring at his long fingers. 

  “You know already.” You frown and think back. You don’t have a clue and he’s looking at you expectantly. Right before you could ask some more questions, the old man brings out the crepe and a shake that has a cherry on top with two straws coming out of the tall glass. You thank him and dig into the shake first. As you are sipping, Portor does the same. In the corner of your eye, you see the old man trying to make it seem like he isn’t paying attention to you. 

  You take a small bite of the crepe. The flavor bursts in your mouth. The sweetness isn’t too sweet but does hit the spot. You take another bite and chew slowly, realizing that Portor hasn’t touched it. Then, you feel the pad of his thumb brush across the corner of your mouth. 

  Your cheeks are on fire. “I’m sorry. I’m a messy eater, that’s why I was going slow.” 

   His face holds no expression. The weird and heavy feeling makes you uncomfortable. “Sorry if I disgusted you.” 

“No. You okay.” Eating in front of people has made you a little insecure over the years. Your dad was a messy eater and you got that from him. “Thank you, Portor.”

He stops eating mid chew when you two hear sniffles. The old man at the counter wipes his eyes. “So cute…so many memories.” He whispers.

-

   Afterwards, he walked you home with your hand in his, guiding you back. This entire thing has been so, so weird. Yet it feels…right? Casual or normal. Nothing feels out of place except for the fact that he’s dangerous and scary. It is the shock of randomness that gets you. Walking you home, sitting next to you, and the amount of staring is so jarring it’s a fright on its own. 

   The anxiety is what you’ve been feeling under his intense stare is like being the center of attention under a microscope. It is uncomfortable. However, the heat in your cheeks isn't from embarrassment as he links his fingers through yours. 

   “Thank you for the crepe, Portor.”

“ Feitan. Not Portor.” You smile and hum, missing how his cheeks are pink and eyes twinkle for the first time in years. It’s cute.

  You come across your house once again, already dreading going inside to face your parent’s wrath for being late and not wanting this day to end. “I had fun, Feitan.” 

  He’s still holding your hand like it’s something precious he stole. “Me too.”

You don’t make a move to let go and neither does he. You know you should. You should be running away from him. A drug dealer, fighter, gangster, maybe even a murderer or at least will be one. You should pull away. You shouldn’t have entertained this for so long. 

 Yet you feel content? Happy? Comforted, maybe? There’s a word for it but you don’t know the answer right now. Not when he takes your hand and places a delicate kiss on your knuckle. 

  So, that’s why. He likes you. As in, like-like. You smile wide and try to hide your face. You’d never thought he’d have a crush on you or anyone for that matter. How sweet this is and what a cherished memory it will be. 

  And to think, that old man understood before you did. 

“Boss said you like that. It’s in books.” Boss? He must mean Chrollo. “Yeah, I do. It’s not everyday I’m treated like this.”

  He says nothing for a moment. A moment you cherish so you can regain your thoughts and attempt to stop you from being so flustered. So you can actually see him clearly. His eyes are shiny and his face is slightly flushed. You finally notice that his hair wasn’t in its usual state. Long and slightly unkempt. Instead, it looks smoother and better brushed. 

This is a date. 

Your first date. Is it his, too?

“I can see you everyday. You smile nice.” He says. His voice is still quiet and now even moreso, wanting to hide the compliment. “You have a nice smile too.”

“Feit-”

“Can you see me too?” He leans in slightly, your hands still in his. 

  You don’t know how to actually answer that. You’re looking right at him so that can’t be what he means. Or that you see him everyday at school. Feitan is asking something deeper, something you were probably wrong about. 

  “I’m learning too, Feitan.” You are. In a short amount of time you’ve seen something different. Something that was hiding in plain sight. There are still reservations because of what he does. But that’s it. It isn’t him that holds you back, it is the rumors and the fights. From what you see, this side of Feitan is sweet. This moment is something you’ll keep and hope for more of them. 

  You can see him. 

He kisses your knuckle again. “A start.”

slip

Feitan x Reader drabble // word count 1.5k

In which you dream about someone you shouldn’t, and talk in your sleep.

Tags/Warnings: yandere, kidnapped reader, mention of blood and gore (past and imagined), knives, implied noncon, implied threat of death (to reader), implied murder (not reader), reader is gonna be fucked up over this forever

A/N: first time writing this man, not sure how I feel about it but it’s either post or stare at it forever

As always - 18+, read the tags, if you don’t like the tags then don’t go below the cut. Thank you and enjoy.

There is a knife against your throat, and you barely know how it got there, much less why. You didn’t do anything. Didn’t run, didn’t try to shove your tormentor away, didn’t tell him that you wished he was dead, or worse. You wouldn’t have had the time to do these things, even if you wanted to. You hadn't been awake for a second before his hand stirred from where it had lain on your waist. And now - the blade twitches, slightly. It doesn’t press quite hard enough to make you bleed, but certainly enough to make you picture what would happen if it did. If it kept going, long past the point where red rivulets stained the threadbare sheets beneath you.

A small noise escapes your mouth. You get nothing in response. It takes time for Feitan to speak, when there’s something on his mind.

It’s taking too long, even for him.

Last night, you thought you were safe. He kissed you, after meticulously washing a stranger’s blood out from beneath his nails. He watched you fall asleep, kept a hand on you until exhaustion finally forced you to nod off in the early hours of the morning. The strange affection he gives you is worse than any cruelty you could imagine, but not nearly as bad as the thought that somehow, you’ve managed to lose it. There are no words in your mind, now, only scattered images of what might happen, what you might become, the barely-recognizable thing strewn out across the floor -

“What were you dreaming about?” Feitan’s voice is dull and quiet, as always. Like he’s asking you this over breakfast, and not on what could be your deathbed.

You don’t remember, and you don’t answer. There is no air left for you to speak. 

“What were you dreaming about?” he repeats. It’s almost the same voice, but there’s a hint of urgency, now. The barest hint - but you’ve grown used to interpreting the faint indications he gives you. “Talk.”

“I don’t”- You gasp, but seem to take in nothing. “-don’t remember”-

“You were talking when you were sleeping.” 

Statements like these are dangerous. He expects you to understand what he means, always. He does not like to elaborate.

“I…” You screw your eyes shut, try to forget where you are just enough to remember where you were. “It was night. In the dream. And I was…” Oh. No. You can’t say that part out loud. Never, ever, ever. When you open your eyes, your vision is blurry. They close once more, of their own accord. “I was sitting with someone. Talking.” Someone. Someone has no face, no name - you pray that he’ll let you leave it at that. That he won’t ask for more.

“You said…” His face is close to the back of your neck, and yet, you cannot feel his breath on your skin. “When you were sleeping, you said I love you.”

Your stomach threatens to infringe upon your throat. You curse your sleeping mind for giving you something beautiful to dream of, and for letting it slip out of your mouth. Beautiful things do not survive here, and your mouth is always better kept shut. 

“Who?” 

You’d think, in your present situation, that you wouldn’t have enough room in your head to feel terrified for anyone else. But you do. Terrified enough to try something stupid. 

You’re sure Feitan can feel the tension in your body, the instinctual way it readies itself for a fight (you would lose instantly) or an attempt at escape (you wouldn’t make it an inch). “It wasn’t about”- you choke on your own breath, try again. “It wasn’t about anyone real. Just a dream-person.”

“Bad liar,” he accuses. You do not protest. It was pointless to try. 

And yet, you try again. You know that your answer matters. Enough for you to force more lies across the blade that still presses against your skin. “Someone I used to date. A long time ago.” Really, it was only a few weeks before Feitan….found you that things ended. But time is subjective - it certainly feels like a long time has passed since then. 

“Oh.” If he suspects that you’re lying again, he doesn’t say it. But he does tend to leave a lot of things unsaid. 

“He”- You suck in a breath as the knife twitches again. The movement is not an accident. It’s never an accident - his hands are unnaturally steady, when he wants them to be. “He ended things. I don’t think he thinks about me anymore.” This needs to be true. He needs to believe that it’s true, or-

“But you still think about him.” 

Your stomach churns. “It was just a dream.” Technically not a lie, either. You’d have to say no for it to be a lie.

Feitan pauses for a moment. You’d have expected him to be furious, to take this out on you in some unimaginably awful way. Instead you hear a single sigh, feel it soft against your skin. “He let you go.” He sounds almost confused, his muted voice drawn out just enough to make his resentment clear. The knife turns slightly, and this time, you’re not sure if it was on purpose. “He must be stupid.”

You bite down on the inside of your lip, sharp and hard enough to tear a bit of the lining away. It’s awful when he says these things. Words that could be sweet, if you removed everything around them.

“I can’t control what I dream about,” you whisper, almost too quiet to be heard. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” He withdraws the blade, swings his feet off the bed - the floor, decrepit as it is, should creak when he stands, but it never does. “You don’t need to tell me anything else.”

You know better than to be relieved, so you turn over, to your other side, and fix your gaze on the floor. Watch him carefully, indirectly. You listen, your breath almost as silent as his, as he picks up his jacket from the end of your bed, puts it on. 

And he smiles. His face is covered, but you see it in his eyes. “I can figure out the rest.” 

The rest. 

Your heart hammers, but your blood stands still. Frozen in your veins. You know why he’s put on his jacket. Why he’s leaving. Where he’s going.

The knife still dangling from Feitan’s hand catches a shard of your reflection, a smudged picture of a terrified eye that disappears before you can look any closer.

The rest. Name, face, address - all too easy. There are clues in your confiscated possessions, in the place where you used to live. 

It’s as if the knife is still held to your throat. No. It’s as if your skin has already broken beneath it. You do not think in words. You think in gory pictures, infinitely clearer than the haze you see before forcing your eyes shut. Your blood, mixing with what you’re sure will be on that blade by day’s end. Skin-gushing-red-bones-out-something being buried, dirty hands returning to you, staining your face, your clothes, the things underneath, silent breath coming alive, painfully soft in your ear -

You open your eyes. You want to scream at him to stop, to stay. But your mouth stays shut.

“I won’t draw it out.” For a moment, he looks down, and you swear you see his face color. Like he’s said something overly sweet, and can barely stand it. “I promise.”

It’s enough to make it real. Enough to unseal your lips. “Don’t…” You should be yelling. But it’s all you can do, finding enough strength to make a near-silent, desperate appeal. “Please. You don’t have to. I’m not going to - to run. To him or anyone else. I’m not gonna do anything. I don’t - it was just a dream…”

“Stop.” His smile drops, eyes narrow. Voice even quieter than usual, deathly calm.

You go silent. Perfectly still.

“If you keep trying to save him, I’ll break my word. I already want to.” 

You forget how to breathe. 

This can’t be a choice you have to make. This can’t be in your hands. There are words in your head, finally, and you can’t say them. 

You have to say them.

“I’m sorry.” 

"Okay." He stares at you for far too long, unblinking. For seconds, or maybe hours, or maybe days - they’re all the same, to you, now. “It’s okay.”

No. He is unforgivably wrong. Nothing will ever be okay again. You’re in some other world, in your mind, and it’s going to take more than you have to yank you out of it. 

You can barely see him in front of you. His voice reverberates strangely in your head. But when he moves, it’s like your senses pull themselves together. You realize that your eyes are wet, that a tear is rolling down the bridge of your nose, that you can breathe after all, but only in ragged gasps…

“You look…nice…when you cry.” He drops his gaze once more, tugs up on the cloth that covers his face. His smile is back, creasing the corners of his eyes, and it is the ugliest thing you have ever seen. “Wonder if he thought that, too.”

Easier

Feitan x Reader // word count 4.3k

If you drink with him tonight, you’ll still be trapped. Things will not get better, and they’ll likely get worse. You know that. But it’s so hard to resist a chance to feel good.

Tags/warnings: dark content, kidnapped reader, noncon (both parties are intoxicated, it’s implied that reader is more so), drinking, coping through drinking, unsexy smut, drunk sex, outdoor sex, reference to previous threats of violence, attempted knifeplay

Feitan has a habit of bringing you things that you do not want. He does not hand them to you - instead, he deposits them on your bed or your floor and then looks at you expectantly, in much the same way that a cat might deposit a dead mouse on your doorstep. It happens often, so when you hear the rattle and click of the lock on your door, you are not surprised to see him enter with something in his hand.

“Here.” He doesn’t make eye-contact - not until he yanks the door shut behind him, forcing it to scrape against the warped wooden frame, and pulls the chain that dangles from the bare, yellowed bulb in the center of the ceiling. Then, he brandishes his offering, raising it up with an awkward jerk of his wrist. “For you.” A bottle of clear liquor, with his knuckles white around its neck, and a single glass tucked under his arm. It’s a regular one, and not a shot glass (not surprising - you’re shocked that he even owns any cups that aren’t made out of plastic), and the bottle is cheap, but neither of those little details are really the problem.

You shift your weight backwards slightly, bracing your hands against your bare mattress. “I don’t want it.”

Feitan crosses the room, somehow managing to avoid a single creak in the rotting floorboards, and sits on the ground directly beside your bed. He looks at the place on the floor beside him, and then stares at you without blinking until you give in, sliding cautiously from your bed and pulling your knees up to your chest as you sit.

You eye the dubious gift with apprehension.

“I didn’t put anything in it.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” you say, before you can really think about your answer.

He tilts his head. “Really?”

“…not just that.”

“Smart.” He nods curtly, as if he expected this response, although his gaze drops for a moment and his hand twitches anxiously at his side. “I show you.” He pours out about a shot. The cowl over his face comes down with a sharp tug, and he wrinkles his nose at the contents of the glass before downing it with a straight face.

You’ve never seen him drink before, or smelled it on his breath, so you are almost inclined to be impressed.

“What else are you worried about?”

His breath usually just smells like he doesn’t own a toothbrush. You pointed this out once, and ended up with a pair of pliers in your mouth. He didn’t actually remove any of your teeth, and the corners of his eyes were creased as his face hovered over yours, like the whole thing was good fun, you teasing him and him paying it back in kind. His breath was fresh the next time you saw him, washed out with a sickly-sweet-something that repulsed you even more than the rot it replaced.

“What else?” he prompts.

“I don’t like your presents.”

He pauses for a moment, as if he finds what you’re saying baffling. “You like this one.”

“No, I don’t.” There are plenty of reasons not to like it. For one, the fact that it is different from all the others. He usually gives you harmless things. Some of them have been truly undesirable, like the half-wilted flower with strangely shaped leaves and an even stranger smell, or the scuffed silver ring for which the previous owner, he assured you, had no further use. Others, you tried to reject only because they came from him, and took advantage of in the moments when you were too tired to care about your pride. Soap of the exact same kind that you used to stock in your home. A soft pair of socks that very nearly matched and were very nearly clean. They were all unsettling in their own way, of course. But this one is different.

Why is it different? You do not like the answer, but it is creeping up on you, getting stronger by the second. If you drink, you will stop thinking, if only for a few hours. You will stop caring about his breath, and picturing his face hovering over you, and wondering when it will stop merely hovering and do the things he wants it to do.

Why is it different? Simple. Because you want it, for once.

He tilts his head. Waiting.

“I don’t like it,” you repeat, all too aware of the way he’s sizing you up, wondering what little movement or twitch of your facial muscles might give you away. “I want it gone.” You are still picturing exactly what those eyes look like when they’re so close that they make yours go blurry and crossed. He didn’t kiss you then - he still hasn’t. But that’s only another thing to fear. It will happen, and everything else along with it. It’s only a matter of time. “Go away.”

“No.” He pushes the glass towards you, and the bottle along with it. He doesn’t say anything else, and he doesn’t leave.

You should pour it down the sink, or throw it out the window. He’d probably let you. He never forces you to accept anything he gives you, although the look of genuine disappointment in his eyes when you refuse is so unsettling that you usually play along. “Why…” You drop your gaze along with the rest of the sentence. It’s obvious, isn’t it?

He shrugs. “Why not?”

You ask yourself the same thing, and come up with a multitude of reasons, and an answer to them all. You are already here, in this room, in this house, with no way out, and nothing to think about except the things he will do, and when. There is no good choice here. And there is an easier one. You bite your tongue, and then your lip, but it does nothing to stop you. “Okay.”

You hold the bottle parallel to the ground, and count one-two-three like someone once told you to do when measuring out a shot, but it’s full and it comes out fast and maybe just maybe you let your handle tilt a little too far in the wrong direction. It doesn’t go down easy, either. You’ve got nothing to follow it with, or to add to cut through the bitter taste. It wouldn’t be hard to stand up and get water, but you don’t feel like moving at the moment. The usual warm, pleasant sensation that you experience when you down the first drink of the night is absent, drowned out by the face staring back at you.

He smiles, and drops his gaze, and his cheeks are flushed, and you don’t know if it’s just from the liquor -

This was a mistake, of course. Of course. You knew that going in. But it’s too late to correct now, and there’s only one way left to go: down, and down, and down. You splash another helping into the glass - one-two-three-four-five - and close your eyes as you choke your way through it.

As soon as you’re done, before you can set the glass down, he takes it out of your hand, fingers brushing cautiously against the back of your hand before easily prying it loose. “I go now.”

You think, for a moment, that he means he’s going to leave, and take his gift along with him (a twinge of disappointment, or maybe something closer to panic, comes along with this, and you hate yourself for it). Instead, he matches the portions you’ve drank with his own. From his face, you would think that it was only water in his cup, although you think you see that faint look of disgust appear once again in the moment before he drinks. When he’s done, he fidgets with the bottle cap, flipping it effortlessly between his fingers. It’s a repetitive motion, one that might be soothing to watch if it wasn’t for the dark stains beneath his nails. He is focused, almost meditative, not even glancing up at you as he toys with the small plastic round, but there is a tension in his shoulders and the way he sits.

You feel it too. It will be a relief, you think, when the waiting is over.

He offers the bottle cap to you. Silently, another little gift in the same night, perfectly centered in his palm. A part of you wants it. But your hands are not elegant - not now, not ever - and you have accepted too much from him already.

Too much, and not enough. You watch him for several more minutes, and will the bottle to remain on the floor, instead of making its way into your hand.

Outside, a slight wind has picked up, the noise dulled by the metal slats fastened across your window. You turn away from Feitan, towards the sound, and slump forward, holding your face in your hands. It’s peaceful, for what feels like a long time. Peaceful enough that you can concentrate on the presence of your body, and the pace of your thoughts, and imagine the alcohol slowly creeping up through your veins and covering up all the things you don’t want to have in your head.

Feitan comes to crouch in the periphery of your vision. You did not hear him move, but that is nothing new. You would not have heard him, you’re sure, even if you had had nothing at all to drink. But now that he is here, you are imagining how you will feel once the warmth has peaked and faded away, and you are still alone with him, and nothing has changed at all. He passes you the bottle, and you drink straight from its mouth, barely registering the taste, too much, too fast. He snatches it back, and matches your swig -

You have an amusing thought that you know he wouldn’t like. It expresses itself on your face before you can snatch it back.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” You arrange your features carefully, and shut your mouth. “It’s nothing.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t look at you with suspicion, like he normally would. He just shrugs, and follows your gaze to the slit of starlight that pokes out from an unobstructed section of the window. “No moon tonight.”

“I wouldn’t know.” It comes out bitter, and you are only slightly surprised to realize that you no longer care how you sound.

“You know now.” He does something you’ve never seen him do before: takes off the cowl entirely and discards it on the floor. “If I take you outside, will you be happy?”

“No.” Your tongue is starting to feel heavy in your mouth, fuzzy around the edges. “I’ll still hate you.”

“Okay.” He looks away from you, reaches again for the bottle, then seems to think better of it. “We still go.”

“Now?” You don’t think you want to stand up, but you do it anyways, before he can even tell you what to do. You’re proud to note that the movement comes easily to you; if you were asked to walk in a straight line, you think that you could. Maybe you could run, too. Maybe faster than him, in your current states.

“Now.” He stands up beside you, surefooted, and grabs your hand. His fingers do not interlock with yours - instead, he wraps them around the back of your palm, and presses his thumb hard against the other side of it. His grip is stronger than it has any right to be, but it does not hurt.

“Why?”

“Why not?” He actually grins, and it’s so jarring that it brings you back down to earth for a moment. “You won’t run away.”

“You don’t know that.” You can see his teeth. By some miracle, they are white enough, and straight enough, but you are still disgusted by them. “I’ll probably try.”

“Okay.” He tugs you towards the door by your hand. “You try.”

You hesitate for a moment, and he pauses, allowing you to pick up the bottle from the floor. It is still open, but the smell of it has become far less offensive, and you grip it as tightly as he does to your hand. Then, you are out - out of the room, first, then past the staircase that he has not yet forced you to descend, where he comes up at the end of the day or night - past that, and then you are past the front door, and the wind that you listened to for so many minutes is howling in your ear. It occurs to you that you do not even know what the house looks like from the outside, but you do not bother turning around.

“This way.” Trees surround the house on every side, and he takes you into them, guiding you through the most spacious paths between the trunks. “I show you something.”

The last time he showed you something, it was not nice - you think about this, and clutch the bottle tighter to your chest, and try not to picture the bones beneath the skin of your hand, small and coated in blood and easy to break. He has similar bones in his possession, not all of them in one piece, belonging to bodies that were once people, with names he told you he had forgotten.

What are you doing? You tip the mouth of the bottle up to your lips, but he jerks you sharply in a new direction, and you only manage to catch a bit of what sloshes out. You vaguely register, moments later, that there is a clearing in front of you, and that it might be pretty in the daytime, and that there are weed-flowers at your feet, the color of which you cannot make out. More lucidly, you observe that the collar of your shirt is wet, and that Feitan’s grip on your hand is tight enough to hurt after all.

“We sit down now.” He sits, and takes you down with him, and more of the contents of the bottle slips away as you struggle to keep it in your grasp. The grass is wet, too. His face is very close to yours. His head tilts to a bizarre angle, his face seeming to blur in front of you, the curve of his smile higher on one side than the other. He laughs - it’s a raspy, quiet sound that is completely unfamiliar to you. Unfamiliar to him, too, you think. “You’re drunk.”

“So are you,” you say, although you do not know if it is true (it probably is - you don’t think he would laugh otherwise). The amusing thought comes back, and this time, you do not filter it away from your mouth. “You shouldn’t have drank as much as I did. We’re not the same size.”

“We’re not.” He blinks unnaturally slowly - or maybe he’s consciously closing his eyes, or maybe it’s just that everything seems a little slower, even the wind yanking his hair away from his face. “Closer sitting down.”

You snort. “Barely.”

“Then lie down.”

You realize that you have been wanting to laugh for a long time, and you do it wildly and bitterly, a grinning scream that you cut short with another swig of the thing which is starting to taste more like water than anything else. “I’m not stupid.”

“No.” He sways forward and puts his hand over yours, and you - after a moment, a stupid, stupid moment - snatch it away.

“‘m not stupid, and I hate you.” Your head feels light and heavy at the same time, scared and free, and neither feeling really matters, and you don’t want to think about it.

“I know.” He looks disappointed, you think, although he might just be tired. How late is it? Late enough that before he arrived - how long ago? - you were scared of falling asleep - you have bad dreams, every night - but you feel okay now -

“Why’d you bring me here?” Your words are not coming out the way you want them to. You don’t mean this clearing - you mean here, with him, forever, or however long he wants you -

“I wanted to.” He gets what you mean, you think. “Might change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

“I know.” He slips his hand into his pocket, and fidgets with something inside, and you do not think to wonder what it is.

“You should let me go.”

“No.”

“I should run away.” You laugh, because the idea of running right now is ridiculous, just like every other idea that passes through your head. All of this is awful, and stupid. Better to be stupid. “That way.” You raise your hand, and point to a place where the trees are less dense, where you think you could run without falling, if you really tried. “I’ll live in the woods. Hunt squirrels.” Oh, how nice it would be right now to talk to someone who wasn’t him. But it is good not to be alone. You think you would cry if you were alone. “You’d never find me.”

He coughs out another rusty laugh (but it’s mean this time, or it feels mean, anyways) and sticks his hand into his pocket. “Then go.” His eyes narrow, and he does not look disappointed anymore, but you’re not really thinking about how he feels to begin with. “I give you ten seconds.”

“Really?” You swing backwards where you sit, then straighten, then shake your head. Make it clear. Do you bring the bottle with you? It will slow you down, but you want it. If you do not have it (oh, god) you will have to wake up and think about all of this, and you don’t want that. It scares you. You can’t.

“Ten.”

You blink. “Now?”

He nods. “Nine.”

“Fuck.” You rise clumsily to your feet, stumble on your first step, and take off straight ahead, with what’s left of your liquor held tight to your chest. The trees are dense, your footing unstable, and suddenly you are going sideways when you mean to go straight - a branch scratches your face, and you grab it, as if to tear it straight off the tree. What number is he on? He was not talking loudly, and you cannot hear it except in your own head, where you are trying to keep track. Three, two?

You hear the crackle of dead leaves somewhere close. Closer. Then his hand is on yours, and you have fallen, and you have no idea which one of these things happened first, and your hands are empty, and the ground is wet on your back. You open your mouth. At the same moment, you feel something hard and sharp against your neck, but you don’t register that in time to stop yourself from speaking - or attempting to. You don’t know what you’re trying to say.

“You stop talking now.” The blade that appeared from nowhere (his pocket?) presses down, just shy of breaking the skin, and does not move for what feels like a very long time. But time is strange at the moment. You are not as scared as you are confused. You do not talk, and he takes it away, and it is such a relief that you do not think much about the other things. He is warm on top of you (he is lying on top of you) but not very heavy (but blurry) and his face is close and you can feel his breath on your face and it does not smell bad. Just like yours. The rest of that smell is pouring out on the ground (you heard the bottle crack when you dropped it, you think).

He kisses you before you can laugh about it, or cry about it, and his tongue is strange and slow and thick. Your hands come up, and push, but they fall down before long, and he kisses your neck. Bites. Doesn’t hurt very much at all. Knife catches at the neckline of your shirt, cuts -

Not far. His hand is not steady. Slips. Prick. You don’t think you’re bleeding but you wouldn’t know if you were. Nothing hurts. You think you hear him curse. Heavy metal leaves you and thuds in the pretty wet grass. There’s a strange expression on his face which makes you think that he might be close to laughing or crying too, and you don’t like it. Your shirt is still wet and noticing it again is a relief - you can think about that, and nothing else.

“You want to?” He tugs at the waist of your pants and pulls them down before you really answer. Your legs are apart now, and you do not want it to be him between them, but it feels good to be touched there - there - and you cannot make yourself hate it. You can’t hate anything. You can’t feel much besides him. There is a warm haze, and beneath that, there is shame and fear and loathing that you do not have to feel right now, that would make everything worse if you did feel it.

You do feel it, for a second too long, and your legs slide closer together, but not close enough to make it stop.

“You don’t want to?” His two fingers slide inside you (too easy, easier than it should be) and curl up like they’re trying to push an answer out of you, and your mouth opens and something comes out, but not words. His eyes narrow and he smiles and the darkness or something else makes it all look different than it did before. “I want to.”

Your hips move in the wrong direction, into him, and the thing you should and want to say does not come out, because he makes you feel good when you try. If he was not doing that he would be making you feel scared instead. This is better. This is the best it could ever be.

The smile drops, all at once. “Answer.”

You close your eyes so you don’t have to see it. Now, it doesn’t have to be him. Could be anyone. Could be no one at all. “Feels good,” you mumble.

“Good.”

The hand slips out of you and lands on the side of your face, slick, and you are kissed and you do not kiss back. “Good.” He says it into your mouth between kisses. His other hand is somewhere else. Down. “Good.” You try not to hear it. The wind whips up around you and you listen to that, and feel it hard against your cheek, and him hard against your stomach. Wind scrapes over your skin. He scrapes over your skin. Finds your entrance and holds himself there for too long. “You want to.” Not a question. Maybe he believes it and maybe you do too.

“Mm.” You’ll fall asleep as soon as it is over. It will be easy. Like taking a drink.

His breath shudders as he presses inside you. His whole body goes along with it, tightens against your skin, face shoved into your neck. Your eyes snap open and you fight their lids back down. When you let yourself think about it, the good feeling starts to go away. But it doesn’t hurt. It would’ve hurt, if it happened a different night, when you had to think…

He looks up and you somehow raise your head just enough to see his eyes. Wide. “Talk.”

“Feels good,” you mumble, and it must be enough, because his nails scrape your scalp and snag firmly into your hair and he is going and going but you can barely feel anything at all anymore. You lied, you guess.

It ends quickly. He says something that you can’t hear and then he is out of you and there is wet on your thigh that has nothing to do with the grass. And still, he is not done with you. His weight stays. His arms hook under your shoulders and hold tight.

One final time, you force your mouth and eyes open, because you cannot sleep like this. He’s staring at you, waiting, and you barely recognize his face at all. If you did, you would hate it.

You manage to say it. Exactly what you want to say. “Get off.”

His gaze drops to the grass. It’s quiet, for a long time.

You close your eyes. “Get off.”

“Okay.” His hand flutters against your cheek, and you feel his hot breath over your face, close enough to kiss you one final time.

He doesn’t. His weight lifts, and you can breathe.

And you can sleep.

***

There is a moment when you wake up before you feel any pain. Your head does not hurt, your stomach does not churn, your eyes do not flinch at the sunlight that pokes them through the trees.

But you would take all of those little kinds of suffering over the feeling that overrides them all. It strangles your chest and your throat and keeps you from rising or moving even an inch to look around. You hear his breathing. You hear his body shift in the grass, and know that he knows you are awake.

And yet, he doesn’t say a thing. Not yet. When he does, all the things you half-remember will flood your brain, and you will have no defense, except to hope that he has another bottle stashed away somewhere, and that he will be kind enough to give it to you.

Not yet. You feel the dampness of the shirt on your back, and taste the foulness of your own breath and the rot rising up from your throat, and smell the bitter stench of the night before. And you pretend, for as long as you can, that not yet means never again.

do u guys fw my new edit be honest😫

@tomssexdoll @tomkaulitzsjuicyballs @billscumshot

do u guys fw my new edit be honest😫

@tomssexdoll @tomkaulitzsjuicyballs @billscumshot

Morning Call ☠ Feitan Portor

Characters: Feitan Portor x fem! reader

Prompt: Somnophilia (Kinktober week 1; day 1)

822 words

Warnings: NSFW 18+, p in v, excessive use of "baby", unprotected sex, Somnophilia (consensual), Cunnilingus (f. receiving), Cock warming, cumming inside, nipple play, morning sex, grammar is all over the place, etc.

Yours truly: This is my first time writing smut, and it's not that great but I truly hope you enjoy it.

Tag list: @regu1ar-huh

Feitan Portor is a very busy man. Most of the times you see him it's late at night. You never know when he'll show up since he's always out dealing with Phantom Troupe business. You would usually stay up waiting and hoping he shows up, but today was a long day for you. Once you got home you took a shower, changed into one of your boyfriends shirts he left behind, a pair of panties, and instantly fell asleep.

A couple hours into the morning you are woken up with a wet and hot feeling in between your legs. Even though your mind is still drowsy with sleep you instantly knew what was happening.

"Fei?" Shuddering, you slowly open your eyes to the view of your boyfriend shoving his tongue into your pussy. He has you on your back and your legs thrown over his shoulder. His pace was slow and lazy.

"Hi baby." He mumbled as he looked up and gave you a small smile before he dove back into you, circling your clit with his tongue with much more energy than before. At the same time, he inserts two fingers into your dripping hole.

"Fei—" Your hands quickly grab his hair as a familiar feeling already starts settling in your stomach. As he begins to pump his fingers in and out of you, he sloppily licks and sucks your clit into his mouth. You were basically melting into him. He lets out a small, muffled whimper when you tug on his hair.

"Oh fuck baby keep going I'm gonna—" your thighs start quivering and close around his head as he picks up his pace. Breathless you gasp and tilt you head back loudly moaning his name as you tip over the edge reaching your first orgasm. Helping you through it he leans back on his knees now slowly pumping his fingers in and out.

Getting overstimulated you lazily swatted at his hand whispering "stop...'s too much." Leaning down towards you, he pulls you into a lazy, but deep kiss as you taste yourself on his tongue. Resting your hands on his bare chest you start toying with his nipples. He breaks the kiss to let out a moan and grinds his clothed cock against your clit.

Leaning into your ear he whispers "missed you...sorry I woke you up. Couldn't wait. Needed you so bad." He then hurryingly helps you slip his your shirt off and throws it somewhere. He kisses down your neck to your breasts when he pops a nipple into his mouth as he plays with the other one squeezing and pinching it.

"Mmm me too Feitan...been so lonely without you." You whimper gasping when he bites down. Stopping with his actions he holds your face looking into your eyes noticing the hazy look in them. Feitan couldn't tell if it was sleepiness or lust, maybe both.

"Tired baby?" He asks. Nodding and humming in agreement, you whine and push yourself against his erection ready for him to fuck you back to sleep. Draping your arms across his shoulders you say, "need you to fuck me please."

"Easy. just relax for me baby. I got you." He quickly takes his pants off and switches your positions till you're both laying on your sides with him behind you. He raises your leg and drapes it back on his. Grabbing his dick Feitan gives himself a few pumps before he leads his leaking slightly red tip against your hole. Slowly, he pushes through and you both sigh out. "You're so tight baby fuck" he says through gritted teeth. The stretch is so delicious it has your eyes rolling back when he finally fills you up to the hilt.

"Mmm fuck baby I need you to move please" you moan out and he grants your wishes. At first, he starts off strong but slow almost pulling out completely before pushing back in with one motion. "oh fuck faster fuck me faster baby please!" Screaming you fuck yourself back into him as he moves faster. The sound coming from where you two are connected filled the room with a fwap fwap fwap sound. It was absolutely sinful the way he was fucking you as he hits all the spots that has you seeing stars. "Fei I'm I'm—"

Feitan knows your close with the way you're squeezing his cock like a fucking vice. "I know baby fuck...cum for me cum all over my cock" he hisses out. Your legs start shaking and your toes curl as your climax approaches you so quick and sudden you're seeing white. Feitan is right behind as he stills inside and pumps you full of his cum. Coming down from his high Feitan notices your deep breathes signaling that you're asleep. Chuckling, he kisses your cheek, wraps his arms around your waist pulling you closer, closing his eyes, and falling into dream land as he leaves himself inside you.

Turning into a popsicle as I’m typing this but that’s not important. Can I request general yandere headcanons with Feitan from HxH

My brain is dead I don’t have anything specific sorry you can ignore if it’s too vague

This request is fine! And yea totally! I feel like he's a yandere permanently, so I kinda toned it down but still made it pretty possessive, I hope that's ok with you.

Feitan would have probably met you when you joined the Phantom Troupe. It would have been a sunny-ish day, the Troupe had all gotten called to help kill and rob some super rich guy. You had joined recently, so only a few people from the Troupe had met you.

You were Hisoka's replacement. It was easy enough to beat him. When Feitan saw you, it was love at first sight. He couldn't take his gaze off of you, and when you spoke, he just about melted. He loved you so much. You were only his.

Any time you get hurt, he'll be fawning over you, with a surprising amount of gentleness. He'd bandage you up so well, it'd be like a doctor did it.

When you two cuddle, Feitan is like a human furnace. He's so warm all the time. If you're a trans man, he's the best person in Hunter X Hunter (in my opinion) for period comfort.

His hands would be basically glued to your abdomen, and he would've picked up that you were starting soon and so he would steal the pain meds you use, chocolate, and everything you need. He'd tell you things like, “You're my handsome boy”, “I love you, pretty boy”, “I know it hurts, I'm here. Tell me if you need anything and don't worry that you're being a bother. I live so you can “Bother” me”.

If you like the sound of his voice, he'll reluctantly talk to you and sing to you more. Though the singing stays completely private and between you two.

If you have sensory issues, he'd be so attentive. You don't like feeling dirty? He killed the owner of this house, and he got your favorite body wash. You hate having calluses? He has your favorite lotion.

If you get overwhelmed with a lot of people, he makes sure you don't get roles that have to do with a bunch of people.

If you are of loud noises, you'll have super good noise canceling headphones.

Basically, he's the most attentive and caring boyfriend, that is, if he loves you enough.