#yandere feitan porter

[after-witch]

Title: Are You There, God? It's Me [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Title: Are You There, God? It's Me [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Synopsis: You've been held captive by Feitan for months--you're long-since used to seeing blood. But it's the blood from your first period since you've been taken that has you feeling sick.

Word count: 2671

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, descriptions of wounds and violence, mentions of previous physical abuse, reader gets their period

Over the past few months, you’ve seen a lot of blood. You’ve seen clotted blood on festering wounds; fresh blood seeping from underneath knives and nails; spatters of blood on the walls from the sudden trauma of severed limbs, fingers, toes. 

Over time, your stomach has stopped rebelling at the sight of it. Not that it gets easier to see, but it has gotten easier to stomach. Maybe your body refuses to give up the few nutrients that do make their way down your gullet, thanks to Feitan’s dislike of cooking and unwillingness to provide you with a basic grocery stock to work from. Frozen dinners only go so far. 

Whatever the reason, you’re rarely physically ill anymore when Feitan drags you to the basement and makes you watch him torture people. For information, or for fun, or sometimes both in equal measure. Emotionally, mentally, socially, psychologically ill is another thing entirely…

But here, now, in the quiet upstairs bathroom, the sight of your period blood smeared on your underwear has you ready to hurl. Your guts seize together and you wonder how quickly you’d be able to clean the toilet, should vomit make its way out of your throat. 

Your period is… back. 

It’s been a while. A few months. Stress had stolen it away, and you hadn’t thought much about it. You remembered when your dad died years ago--you hadn’t gotten your period for maybe 4 months, then. So it was no wonder that being kidnapped by some crazed serial killer who could turn his nails into knives seemingly at whim might throw your body’s organic clock all out of sorts.

But here, now, in the same damned quiet upstairs bathroom where you sometimes retreat to cry into towels, it’s back. 

What are you supposed to do?

Your first thought was to search the bathroom for period supplies, but of course, there were none. Not a single pad or tampon. 

(The sick thought occurs to you: even if one of Feitan’s victims survived long enough to get their period, it’s not like he’d be letting them take a break to put on a pad...)

No pads. No tampons. Certainly nothing as innovative as a cup.

So you’ve made do with the old standby: folding as much toilet paper as humanly possible and sticking it in your underwear. But you know it won’t last long. It’s meant to be a temporary stopgap on the way home from work or school, or until you can run out to the shop to grab a fresh box.

You can’t just run out to the shop. You can’t go anywhere. Not even outside, not even for a minute. You’re not even meant to freely ask for things; asking for anything--some fresh vegetables, a blanket that’s actually warm, new underwear--is a grueling, draining task that you often prep days in advance. 

And he doesn’t always say yes.

And this? This? No. There’s no way. You are not going to waltz up to your kidnapper and tell him that you’ve started something so personal and intimate. Humiliation doesn’t begin to describe the act. You want to fold up like a piece of paper and blow into the wind whenever you recall the conversation you were forced to have regarding new underwear made from 100% cotton--

Why? He’d asked. And you’d said it was more comfortable. He snorted. And you were worried that he might not think it was  important, so you had to explain that your body reacted poorly to anything less than 100% cotton. And he’d asked, simply: What do you mean? And you’d had to actually explain, voice mumbled and face blazing hot from shame, that you get irritated down there by other fabrics.

You can’t go through that again. For heaven’s sake--you’d have to tell him what sort of supplies you’d need! Did he even know the difference between a pad and a tampon? What if he asked why you needed an overnight pad versus a normal one? 

And there’s other things to consider. The dull ache in your lower stomach… he does have painkillers, but he’s only doled them out for serious things (your broken wrist, for slapping him--and the time you slipped on the stairs and hurt your back; you’re not allowed to walk up or down them on your own, anymore).

A heating pad would be nice. And a body pillow to put between your legs and curl up with. But to get them, you’ll have to ask Feitan. Ask him properly, the right way, at the right time. 

And he’d have questions, wouldn’t he? 

He’d want to know why you need a heating pad (“Because my uterus feels like it’s being clawed out, goddamn it!” would probably not fly) and who knows, maybe he’d tell you to just suck it up and you’d have to deal with the humiliation of being rejected on top of the shame of him knowing you’re bleeding from your most private of parts and--

No

No.

It’s not happening. You aren’t going to tell him, and that is that. You’ll do what you can to get through it--just a few days, that’s all, you used to have to sit through school without pain meds and heating pads and sure it sucked but you lived--and you’ll soldier on like you’ve done thus far. 

You sigh, and carefully flush the proof of your period--toilet paper and blood tinged urine--down the toilet. You’ll have to be careful about where you sit, and how you sit, lest you accidentally stain the sofa or the dining room chair. 

Then the thought comes to you, almost a buzz in your head--

Oh, fuck… what if it leaks on the bed when you sleep? Feitan would know. Feitan would see. You’d have to ask him for cleaning supplies or get caught dragging the sheet to the bathroom or… or…

No, that couldn’t happen. You’d do something. You’d--yes! The solution is simple. Easy as pie. 

You wouldn’t still be sane without quick thinking, so you nab a few towels from the back of the bathroom closet, shove them under your shirt like you used to mimic pregnancy as a child with an overactive imagination and a tendency for dramatic imaginative play times, and prepare to scamper to your bedroom and hide them until night falls.

You’d make a barrier, that’s what you’d do. Simple, easy. Effective. And Feitan never had to know.  

Feitan rarely bothered with you in the evening, anyway--he was too busy with his work. 

It was a perfect plan.

--

It was not a perfect plan.

Everything was going fine. You’d draped a cardigan around your waist in the afternoon when Feitan insisted you watch a film together, although as usual he didn’t sit on the same sofa as you, and simply stared at you now and then from his vantage point on the chair. The same cardigan had come in handy at dinner.

No leaks. No stains. And you’d pushed through the pain and discomfort of your cramps, all the while practicing pretending that something you ate wasn’t sitting well with you, if Feitan had noticed. 

He didn’t.

All you had to do was get to bed, make your barrier, and cover up with the blanket just in case it was one of the nights that Feitan came into your room in the middle of the night to stare at you like some sort of creepy owl. (Did he know you knew, or did he like to think you were unawares)

That’s it.

Simple enough.

Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy.

Right?

Wrong.

Because as soon as you’d finished smoothing out the second towel on top of the sheets, Feitan walked through the doorway to your bedroom.

Where he stands, now, staring at you with a look of false passivity.

“Why,” he asks, in a voice so mild that you know it means he’s absolutely invested in an answer, “you have towels on the bed?”

You’d come up with excuses for cramps; you’d even dabbled with pretending that you’d scratched your thigh or something, if you happened to bleed onto the sofa.

Feitan never really came into your room while you prepared for bed, so the thought of an excuse here never entered your mind. And now your mind whirled for an answer, coming up blank.

“I, uh,” you say, plopping yourself down on the towel as if covering it up with your body would somehow erase his memory. “I was… cold?” You offer, not even believing an ounce of your own life.

Feitan’s expression doesn’t change.

“Why?” The question leaves room for no excuses, no lies, nothing but the truth. There’s an ‘or else’ in his tone that you don’t care to uncover. 

This is sick. This is wrong. This is so unfair.

“I’monmyperiod.” You rush out the words, staring down at your thighs, cheeks so hot you’re sure the temperature in the room has raised by a few degrees.

“Slower.”

You could cry. You might, actually, you feel the pressure of tears building behind your eyes.

“I’m. on. My. Period.” The words come out behind gritted teeth.

You hear a sound you’ve never actually heard from Feitan before: a short, stuttered intake of breath. A surprised, involuntarily, clipped little noise of confusion.

It makes you look up, unable to process what you’ve just heard without seeing it. But what you see is even more confusing: 

Feitan is blushing.

Oh, just a little. Just the tiniest amount of ruddiness on his cheeks. If you were one of his victims or some random person on the street, you wouldn’t notice. But you notice all of Feitan’s little expressions, the nuances of his body language. The difference between how far he raises his eyebrows at you can mean the difference between pain and mild discomfort. 

So yes, you notice this slight ruddiness on his cheeks, and your brain whirs pathetically, trying to process what it means. 

He sees you staring. His hand reaches up to his cheek, and he must realize it--

Because then he yanks his cowl up and turns sideways, leaning against the door frame in a nonchalant way that now seems painfully practiced.

He says nothing for a moment. Your heart thuds the entire time.

When he speaks, his voice is quiet and--you could swear--shy. Awkward. Like he doesn’t want to bring it up. It’s a strange reversal--normally you’re the one who’s left quietly murmuring. 

“You need… lady things?”

Oh, this must be how you die. 

It won’t be from breaking your neck on the stairs or from Feitan getting bored of you and slashing your throat. It will be from sitting on a towel-strewn bed in front of your secretly blushing captor as he asks you what type of feminine hygiene products you need. 

You must not answer fast enough, because he jerks his head towards you. 

“Well?” 

He looks just as uncomfortable as you feel--it almost makes you feel slightly better. At least he’s not lording it over you. He’s never passed up a chance to make you feel degraded, but even this must be too much for him.

It gives you the push you need to speak, although your voice practically chokes on the words.

“Um. I need. Some pads? Over--overnight ones, because I tend to bleed a lot--” Your eyes shut for a fraction longer than normal, why did you tell him that, for fuck’s sake. “And--” Your voice cracks. “And maybe… if it’s not too much trouble, a heating pad?”

He shifts his position against the door frame. You wonder if he’s making a mental list. The thought of Feitan waltzing into some supermarket with a paper list that says “overnight pads” is too ludicrous to consider for long.

‘”Heating pad? What for?”

The sound you make can only be described as a short, painful keening groan. It’s not the cramps that hurt--it’s the humiliation. 

“For cramps,” you say quickly. “Mine get really bad. They were um, pretty bad today, but--”

“Idiot.” Ah, there’s the Feitan you recognize. “Why not say something?”

The towel underneath your fingers isn’t very soft, but you scrunch the fabric up underneath them anyway. “I didn’t want... I mean… I thought that…” 

And then that soft pressure behind your eyes builds from frustration, from the embarrassment, from the fact that you’re being held captive and on top of the many awful things you’ve experienced over the past however-many-months, you’re now having a discussion about your intimate period with someone who seems to delight in tormenting you.

The first sniffle is easily hidden. But not the second, or the third. And by the time your lower jaw is quivering and the tears are spilling down your cheeks, you can only lean forward and cry pathetically into your hands.

You hate this. You hate being here. You hate your period, you hate Feitan, you hate the fact that you can’t just go into the bathroom and slap a pad on your underwear. You hate this bed and these towels and the clothes you’re wearing. You hate everything.

“Fine.”

His clipped, sudden word doesn’t make you stop crying. But it does give you a pause, and you swallow down against your tight throat and look at him through sniffling tears. “Huh?”

“I get you heating pad.” He flicks his hand at you, like he’s shooing away an annoying pet dog. “Go to bed. You need more sleep now.” 

You do stop crying then, if only because your brain isn’t sure how else to react. Your mouth hangs open a little as you curl up on the bed--a nap would be nice--and grab an extra pillow to shove against your stomach. 

Feitan, for his part, snorts and leaves your doorway. You expect him to go into the basement, but instead you hear him putting on his boots, grabbing things from the foyer. He’s going out? Now?

All the while, he’s mumbling to himself. You only catch a few of the words--women, hormones among them--before he leaves. The door’s lock seems louder than ever and you clutch the pillow harder. 

Later, you’re yanked out of a fuzzy dream when something both soft and hard lands with a thunk against your head, and your bedroom light is flicked on.

It takes you a few moments to get your bearings.

There’s something draped against you. You blink and hold it up. It’s a heating pad, the plug-in kind with a remote control and everything. 

Feitan is standing in your doorway, holding a large sack. 

When he sees that you’re at least vaguely awake and aware, he turns it over and dumps the contents on the floor. It’s about 20 boxes of overnight pads--a few different brands. He must have stolen half the shelf. 

He regards you with a pleased expression that’s only half-hidden by his cowl. But you’d know his expression of self-serving pride at a job well done anywhere; you’ve seen it enough times when he’s tortured information out of someone. 

“Well? This enough for the month?”

The choked sound that comes out of your throat might have had a laugh in it somewhere, but you hope he doesn’t hear it. You get the sense that laughing about this would actually bother him more than anything you’ve done lately.

So instead you nod, slowly, and unfold the heating pad so that you can plug it in somewhere. Since you’ll probably be up for a while, it would be okay to ease your cramps a bit before morning. 

But when you look up… Feitan is still there, standing in the doorway.

He looks expectant, like you’ve forgotten something you’re supposed to do, but what--

Oh.

“Thank you, Feitan,” you murmur, swallowing hard, staring down at your lap as the sleep-induced grogginess begins to fade away from your brain.  

He hums, then looks down at the pile of boxes he dumped on the floor. 

“Put these away. Don’t want you tripping on them. Clumsy.” 

For once, you don’t mind the insult. 

It’s better to be back on familiar territory. 

#yandere hunter x hunter #yandere feitan #yandere feitan porter #yandere #afterwitch writes

[teabutmakeitazure]

Feitan's compliments are worse than his insults. His way of delivering them is overwhelmingly unnerving, and if you didn't know any better, the fact that his compliments are of a specific body part of yours would remain a mystery. You don't know why he's so particular about what he likes about you. Having once told you that you have beautiful hands had caused you to start sleeping with your hands tucked between your thighs in fear that you may wake up without them. He isn't above doing such a thing after all, his previous threats to your disobedience having permanently made themselves home in your mind.

Though the fear is there and is quite terrifying actually, you sometimes feel bad for reacting harshly to his attempts at complimenting you. Sigh. Perhaps you shouldn't have locked yourself in the bathroom. Him sneaking up on you while cooking to tell you that you have pretty eyes wasn't worse than a scare. You fear for your eyes now, but you also fear for what's about to happen to you now that his hand has broken a hole through the door and is unlocking it from the inside.

#he's angry now oops #better get to apologising (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠) #hunter x reader #yandere hunter x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #feitan porter x reader #yandere feitan #yandere feitan x reader #yandere feitan porter

[holydayaria]

Bath Time

Yandere Feitan x Reader

Synopsis: you smell bad 

Warnings: drowning, kidnapped reader

820 words

quick blurb while i procrastinate my bio work ergh. not proofread

On the fourth day of being trapped in this man's basement, he got unnervingly close. He crouched himself right in front of you and just stared for a while. Your back was already pressed against the wall; if you could get any further away from him you would. You met his gaze, staring back. He apparently didn’t like it when you refused eye contact. He viewed it as a sign of rejection.

Feitan did not move for a while, and it was hard to tell what he was thinking (if he was thinking at all). You blinked a few times, focusing on what little of his face you could make out in the dark basement. Suddenly he seemed to fall forward, leaning into you and placing his hands on your shoulders. He found himself in the crook of your neck, the hair on his head tickling your face. Feitan had you in an awkward sort of embrace (if it could be called that).

“You smell.”

You bit your tongue as to not send a snarky reply. Of course you smell, you haven’t had the chance to shower or clean up or really do anything since he took you. The most you got was waking up wearing clothes you were not wearing prior to being in this shit-hole. “You need a bath.” Feitan said, removing himself from you and standing fully. At that you beamed internally. Finally, you’d be able to get cleaned up and stretch your legs. Hopefully a change of clothes.

You shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up.

You hadn’t taken Feitan for the perverted type as he hadn’t so much as glanced at you in your time as his captive; yet the ghost of a smirk was very present when he made you undress in front of him. It wasn’t necessarily seeing your nude body that amused him (though it most certainly was a bonus) but you barely able to keep your composure. You had to stand around naked while the bathtub was filling with water; he didn’t bother to fill it up beforehand. You took the time to look at yourself in the mirror, examining the eyebags and chapped lips you adorned. Feitan watched you, you could see it in the corner of your eye. As usual, he said nothing.

Sitting with your knees to your chest in this dirty tub, having the man who took you hostage washing your hair with your shampoo, trying to get the knots out of your hair. You almost wanted to throw up. Your shampoo, your conditioner, your body-wash, the bubbly bath bomb you only got every now and then. The more you looked in the bathroom the worse it got. Deoderant, toothpaste, even the fucking toothbrush was the same color as the one you had at home. Briefly you wondered Feitan went and bought the same products you use or if he directly took them from your home. 

The water was cold, frigid even. You were practically shaking, too nervous to ask if there was any hot water. With the state of the bathroom you doubted there was any. Feitan wasn’t letting you bathe yourself, taking liberty in washing you like you were a pet. Maybe that is what you were, his pet to do whatever he wanted with. Thankfully it seems the extent of his perverse thoughts ended at just seeing you. His touch was very clinical, if not a bit rough at points. 

It seemed he was just playing with your hair now, literally petting you. He was almost gentle, lulling you into a false sense of security. Before you could process what happened you were suddenly underwater, eyes and nose burning and getting a mouthful of soapy water. His grip on your hair suddenly turned so rough you thought you’d be left with a bald spot. You were left to try to claw at his hand, praying to whatever higher power that you wouldn’t end up drowning. After what felt like absoloutely too long, he lifted your head back out of the water with a sharp pull. You cried, coughed and sputtered. Heavy breathes in and out did little to calm your nerves. Feitan loosened his grasp on you, going back to petting you.

“Did I scare you?” He asked with a grin, “Did you think you were going to die?” You didn’t know how to answer, if he even wanted you to answer. You were sobbing now, and he was brushing away your tears with his thumb. Not a comforting gesture in the slightest, it felt menacing with the way his fingernail was digging into your cheek. 

A moment later and Feitan was gone. He had left you to cry alone, which you were thankful for. Whether he locked the bathroom door behind him you didn’t know, maybe it didn’t really matter. Hopefully when (or if) he came back he wouldn’t try to drown you again.

#feitan x reader #yandere feitan #hxh x reader #yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter x reader #feitan porter x reader #yandere feitan porter #_feitan #_hxh

[bwabys-scenarios]

Yandere!Feitan is pretty off putting and a bit mean at times, but he’s mostly harmless. For someone that tortures others for a living, he’s never even once thought of putting his hands on you.

You’re the only person he could never imagine hurting. Even if you piss him off or try to escape, he just can’t bring himself to punish you physically.

He just can’t. Feitan feels so soft and weak when he glares at you after you let your smart mouth run a bit too long. You shut up the second he glanced up from the novel he had been reading, and for a moment he thought of walking over and breaking a finger or two. Maybe then you’d know to keep your mouth shut.

But he couldn’t. Even the thought of causing you pain, the tears that would well up in your eyes and fall down your cheeks as you asked why he hurt you… it was enough to make him nauseous. He got up and left, slamming the door to his room shut behind him.

Your soft, sweet hands always seem to make him both melt with contentment and stiffen nervously at the same time. Feitan can’t stand it, yet he craves it all the same. He desperately needs your affection and love, but he’s so emotionally stunted that being vulnerable enough to relax under your care almost hurts.

“Fei…”

Usually, Feitan wouldn’t let a single soul get away with using that nickname besides Phinks… but you always seem to get away with it. He grunts in response, glancing at you.

“Snuggles… please…”

Lately you’ve been wanting more physical affection. That wasn’t easy, you made him oh so nervous when you were too close. He felt like he could barely breathe.

“… go back to bed.”

You sniffle, rubbing at your teary, sleepy eyes. “Fei, please… I can’t sleep.”

This man, who had killed more than he could count and tortured even more men than that, felt his chest ache at the sight of your teary eyes. Why did it hurt so much to see you cry? He still couldn’t understand.

“Stupid…” he grumbled, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards his room. “Spoiled brat. Can’t sleep alone, like baby.”

You sighed contentedly as you curled up next to him, his hand stiffly patting your back. “Maybe some k-“

“No. Sleep.”

You pouted a bit, but you didn’t push it. Feitan was easily angered, and you didn’t want to lose the warmth you felt next to you, even if it came from the man that kidnapped you.

“… you’ll stay? Even after I fall asleep?”

Feitan eyes widened slightly at that, his hand gripping the back of your shirt. “… just sleep.”

You did, because you knew that he wouldn’t leave you now, not after you asked him to stay. Feitan watched you sleep, brushing your hair out of your face with a gentleness that didn’t come naturally to him.

Once he was sure you were asleep, he glanced around the room before leaning forward and pulling you in close, kissing the top of your head.

“Goodnight…”

#feitan x reader #feitan porter x reader #requests open #x reader #anime x reader #reader insert #headcanon #hxh x reader #hxh imagines #hunter x hunter x reader #anime x chubby reader #feitan portor #chubby!reader #chubby reader #fem!reader #female reader #fem reader #yandere feitan #yandere hxh #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere #hunter x hunter feitan #hxh feitan

[mamayan]

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.

#HxH #18+ please #Hunter x Hunter #Feitan Porter #Feitan x reader #mdni #Feitan smut #Feitan fic #not edited sorry not sorry #soft! Feitan #yandere Feitan #Yan! Feitan #Phantom Troupe #Yandere Phantom Troupe

[jujutsukgojo]

My gifts to you

feitan portor x reader

Summary: You knew him for years for only moments at a time. Yet, you take it upon yourself to love and mourn him anyway, even when the world won't. tw: light smut, slight yandere feitan, spoilers, mentions of murder, light angst, fluff(?), injuries, cheating, time skips an: didn't mean for it to be this long. Feitan is a bit tricky for me but oh well :) kind of inspired by criminal minds 'no way out'. 10.8k

“If you tie it like this, it should stay, okay?” You tap the boy’s foot. Although he is smaller than you in height, his feet are bigger. It’s quite comical but you don’t dare laugh. In this blasted city, you’d be bound to die for such a thing. Especially if you laugh at someone with crazy hair and carries a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.  

  He says something in a foreign language that you can’t understand. If you are correct, it may be inverted Japanese. In the books that one kid collects, there is a country, Japan, where the common language originates. Since the common language isn’t his mother tongue, it makes you wonder where he’s from and why he’s here. 

  The boy stands up to his full, but short, height. You sit on random rubble and look up at him, waiting for what he’ll do next. Will he call over Phinks or even bring Uvogin? He hangs out with Phinks mainly but who knows these days. 

   Instead of swinging the bat at you or calling over his friends, he pats your head awkwardly. You don’t make any sudden movements or noises. The boy leaves right after. A sigh escapes your lips after he leaves you behind.  

   What's his name again? Feitain? 

__________

  In your hut, you slightly stir the food that sizzles in the pan you found. It’s rare to come across tomatoes and eggs but you managed this time. The smell is mouth watering. You hope no one else can smell it. 

As much as you want to live elsewhere, this is what you settle for at the moment. In another world, you’d be out of this city and somewhere clean and safe. Like the church or something. No, even better than the church. You’ve heard of the outside where there are bright flashing lights and diamonds and pearls on people’s necks. There are flowers of all colors out there. Different shapes, smells, and meanings, they’re all beautiful. You hear that food isn’t scavenged but bought or given to people without a price.  

   People said they’ve seen the safety of children your age that play without a care. There are parents for the lost kids and doctors for the injured. Clean clothes and showers on the regular. You can even see the sun clearly and the big, round moon that doesn't bring out the wolves in men. 

There are pastors and priests that don’t turn people away, either. Hell, you have even wondered if there were schools there that allow everyone to get in. You're sure that you are reading and doing math wrong. How embarrassing.  

Finally done, you place the food on a plastic plate you found. You made sure to wipe the grime off the plate and rinsed it with clean water before using it. Even though you can just eat out of the pan, you want to seem sophisticated like the outside. They don't eat out of pans or use dirty plates. 

  The food steams and is welcoming. Without a lot of utensils, you pick at it with your hands. It burns at first but you’re too hungry. The flavor bursts in your mouth. Even without the proper seasonings, it’s still heaven. You haven’t eaten in a while so you’ll take what you can get.  

   Suddenly, the boy, Feitan, enters your hut. You gasp and protectively cover your food. He brings his foot out. His shoe, which he stole, is untied again. You swallow the substance and point out, “I taught you how to tie them.” 

“Tie.” 

“I taught you.” You set your plate down.  

“Tie.” You roll your eyes and pat your thighs. He walks over to you and places his dirt caked shoe on your lap. Slowly, you tie them.  

“There, see? Come on now, you need to learn. A little boy can’t grow without tying his shoes.” 

“I’m not little boy.” You give a breathy chuckle. “Of course you are, honey.” 

  He leans in close to your face. “I’m older than you.”  

...He does hang out with Phinks, who is a couple years older than you. In fact, it is rare to see them apart. Is it possible that it’s true? Is Phinks the type to be friends with someone who is younger?

 Curious, you ask, “Then why are you so short?” His eyes widened in shock. Then, strangely, he laughs while patting your head harshly. Studying his face revealed what looks like the beginning of a sinister smile.

  He looks at your plate and sits down in front of you. You’re both on the dirt floor. 

 “Give me.” You scoff and snap at him. “No! Find your own!” 

The little beast decided that the two of you should ‘share’. He smacks on his food, making you want to punch him repeatedly. He’s gaunt and bony, but not really bad like last time. His face has a tiny bit of roundness to it. 

  “Stop staring.” He inhales a tomato. “You look better than last time.”

“Better?” He cocks his head to the side. The remnants of the tomato smeared a little on his cheek.

“Yeah, healthier.” He stares at you for a second. “Thanks.” His accent is thick, and you still can’t place it. Nevertheless, you understand. Afterwards, much to your surprise, he sleeps in your hut now that his belly is full. Satisfied and strangely not afraid, you follow suit. It’s nice to have a friend, however strange.

You are barely awake, sleep still heavy in your eyes, when you see him pop up. Drool is crusted on his cheek, and he rubs his eyes. He yawns and then spots you next to him. Feitan eyes the entry of the hut then back at you. He puts the only cover you have on you then pets your head. 

  Before he leaves, he places his bat in your hand. Feitan secures the entry as he exits the hut. 

_____________

  It’s been years since you and Feitan have talked. You've gotten familiar with him but when Sarasa had died in such a disrespectful and gruesome way, he withdrew. In the meantime, you waited for him and studied a power you discovered. No matter the eyes that were always on you, you didn’t care about the mysterious and hidden audience. 

  You don’t know what it’s called but it started when you witnessed some kid about to get her ass handed to her by some thugs. The man had moved a pair of scissors without using his hands. They aimed right towards her and in a moment of instinct, you rushed to push her out of the way. Unfortunately, the scissors stabbed you in the shoulder.  

  It was then did you feel the rush of a force so strong, that it knocked everyone away from you. A faint white light that glowed from your skin that only your eyes could see. As you looked around in shock, you saw that same glow coming from that man and his friends. 

  You were gasping when you fell to your knees. “I-I’m sorry. I can’t be here!” The girl your age ran for her life and left you behind. In a moment of fear, you call out to her to help you. You were so afraid; you couldn't tell if the screams were hers or yours. Given the situation, you were too rattled, terrified and hurt, to focus.

The men shook for a second then got up to face you. The blood from your shoulder wasn’t stopping its flow. Crimson red stained your clothes and the ground. It was all so strange, such an unusual feeling of adrenaline that you couldn’t help but memorize. Almost as if the world had finally made sense. Every single thing became so much clearer to your dismay.  

  The men came towards you with malicious intent. While putting pressure on your injury, you managed to kick one of their legs, causing them to buckle and hurt his knee. He screamed in agony. 

  “G-get away!” You try to stand. The press of your hand on the wound isn’t helping. Is it supposed to bleed this much? It hit your shoulder, but did it nick something?  

  You need to stop it, to heal and get away from them. In this city, people like you are in danger from men like them. If you don’t get away, you’ll end up like Sarasa. She was never really close to you. She was a nice girl who always looked for video tapes, so you'd help her from time to time. Yet, her death scarred everyone since it was so close to home. And now, you no doubt are facing the exact same situation. Wrong place, wrong time.  

   Same fate.  

You fell back on the ground and looked at the sky. It has always been so dirty, just like the city due to pollution. Still so young, you know you won’t see what it really looks like. In the corner of your eye, you spot something green. A small clover with four leaves. 

  One time, an old man told a story of how four-leaf clovers are a sign of good luck. By the intense feeling and pressure of your eyes, you know it’s not true. Pain in all ways makes tears fall from your eyes. Lips wobbling at how unfair everything is and that you will never see the sun. The outside must really be heaven, and for someone so young who hasn’t committed a sin, you are wondering if you can go.

  Suddenly, flowers that you never knew blossomed around you. The soft petals touched your filthy skin and got rid of the aches. The blood on your shoulder faded from view as well as the pain. A soft and beautiful hum whispered in your ear. You truly believed it to be in your head, an imagination of paradise as you leave. Heaven, they call it. You must be close to the outside world then. 

  This must be it, you thought. There was no pain from a strike or fear. Just closed eyes and peace. Something you know you couldn’t get in the atrocious city.  

It ends. You were shocked as the beautiful flowers disappeared. Heaven, would you reject someone? 

  The men didn’t hurt you. The one whose knee was broken was able to move his leg. His red hair kind of glowed in the sun, and brown eyes were wide. He muttered a soft ‘thank you’ and walked away without a limp. His friends followed.  

   After that, you had realized that your ability wasn’t anything like scissors or something scary. It was to heal and be healed.

Although after immediately learning this, you didn't go out of your way to find the source of the screams in the direction the people went. First was the girl, then the group of men. After what you went through, it didn't seem like a good idea. 

 Feitan, somehow, got wind of it. Now in his later teen years you both estimate, he sits still and points to his arm. There’s a gnarly gash oozing blood. You wonder how he’s not feeling this and if he is, how he isn’t even fazed.  

  You gently pick up his arm and inspect it. He's thin but has clear definition in his arms. You haven’t seen him in so long that you are surprised by his growth. Hell, he’s taller now. Still short, but at least he grew.  

  In a jar, you take a premade petal. This is a way for you to save energy and reach people when you physically can’t tend to. Acting as a pill, you make sure that people can get infections out. For some reason, illnesses and infections are particularly tricky and tiring for you.  

  “Eat this, Feitan.” He frowns. “No.” You sigh. “It’s infected. You need to eat this so I can heal it right.” 

  “It’s not.”   

Rolling your eyes you bring his wound to his face. “This, this is infected. It's literally oozing pus.” How long did this go on? Was he really that hesitant to just come and see you?

  He growls and takes the delicate petal and places it in his mouth. “Stop pouting.”  

“Not pouting. It’s nasty.” He’s not wrong. It has a bitter taste and when chewed, a slimy texture. The color of the disintegrating petal leaves a stain in the mouth as well. If not for the benefits, no one would even bother. They'd be just as offended as Feitan.  

  The pus stops and clears up. “Alright, this’ll leave a scar.”  

You blow on your hand so that flowing blossoms surround him. Beautiful shades of pink and white go through his hair. With a gentle caress, you see the flurries touch his wound. It starts to encourage his own healing.  

  As much as you want to do the full thing, you’re tired. All day you’ve been working and collecting payments. Not to mention facing the disappointment of them being useless. You want to kick yourself for not getting paid first. But the sight of those grateful people and healed kids softens your heart.  

  Soon, it stops once the injury becomes manageable. You’re about to wrap it when a hand stops you. “What’s this?”  

  “Feitan, I'm tired. You caught me at a bad time.” You try to move your hand but he stops you. He's a lot stronger than you remember. “Heal.” 

His fluency isn’t the greatest still.  

“I’m tired! Just let it heal the rest of the way.” No matter how much you try to yank your hand away, his grip is too strong. “Please, Feitan...”  

  Surprisingly, he lets go and from what you can see, the subtle white glow appears and heals him the rest of the way, leaving small flames. “Feitan...what was that?” 

  He rolls his eyes and plops down on a chair. He says nothing and just relaxes, or at least that’s what he’s trying to make it seem like. It has been a while since you’ve seen him, but that doesn’t make you blind to his behaviors…sometimes. 

   “As a transmuter, I can heal a little by using enhancer,” He looks at you suspiciously. “You know nothing about nen?”

“Nen?” You put the gauze and other items in a black bag. It was found in the safe zone by the church. Apparently, it belonged to a doctor from the outside. The bag had all kinds of necessities. Gauze, medicine, some syringes, disinfectant, a thermometer, all kinds of stuff that you’ve had to use sparingly. What you save in the bag, you make up for with your ability. 

  He smacks his lips and calls you a ‘dumb brat’. “You use nen but don’t know it?”

Sighing, you ask, “What is nen, Feitan?” 

“What you do. Use your aura and stuff.” His arms are crossed, and he looks at you expectantly. You gather that he likes knowing things you don’t. It’s like a weak power trip. 

  But it is nice to finally have a name and explanation for it. And that’s what he did this time. Visiting you for a moment just to pick with you while teaching you something you should have known. 

“Wait, if you could do that, why’d you come here?” He just shrugs.

------

When you see him again, he brings his friends along. You immediately recognize some of them. Phinks, who ran with Feitan, the boy who always collected books, and Uvogin, the giant who was always claiming territory and beating people up. 

  Feitan should be twenty now. It’s hard to tell since he looks youthful. He points to his friend, the boy with the books, and orders, “Heal.”

“You can do it, Feitan, remember?” You were in the middle of cleaning when he and the rest of his posse pop up. They look flustered and a little worse for wear. 

  “Heal.” He always does crap like this. You roll your eyes at first. The body they carry tugs on your strings a bit. 

“Fine. Put him on the table.” Thankfully, it’s cleaned, and a new wrapping has been placed on it. Gently, the man is put on it. You spot the cross tattoo on his forehead. Ah, that’s where Feitan has been. Lately, there’s been whispers of the Phantom Troupe. Merciless killers and thieves from Meteor City that have been gaining respect over the years. Your opinion of them isn’t the greatest but it also isn’t the worst. You appreciate them for standing up for Meteor City, but their methods are questionable.

   You sigh and begin to undress the boy with the cross. “Is that necessary?” 

You continue to pull off his clothes, not bothering to answer the question the girl asked. If she can’t understand why you need to remove his clothes, then that’s on her. She scoffs after another female voice answers her question. 

  You finally see his wound. Feitan can heal himself to a degree, but you don’t think this guy can. The gash is deep and sewed with makeshift stitches. There’s no nen involved, surprisingly. Given that Feitan is an avid user, you thought his friends would be keen on it too. 

“He’s a specialist. Enhancer techniques are harder for him.” Phinks spoke. He must've understood your confusion. 

“And the stitches?” You gently investigate the area. It’s an angry red around it and, like you suspected, infected. It wasn’t properly taken care of. You begin to remove the stitches. You wonder what the thread is made of and how long this has been going on. 

“He,” Phinks points to Uvogin. “And him,” He then points to another large man with long ears. “Thought they could do it. Normally, Machi heals us but they were away from her. Her stitches would have helped him but not any infections.”

  “Ah, well this requires more than I thought.” You touch the ground and out comes a beautiful swirl of flowers. Underneath the moving petals is a blooming sunflower. It picks the guy up so he rests on it. The bed of the flower glows softly and becomes warm. His once wincing face is now peaceful. His injury is slowly closing and the red is beginning to turn pink. 

“The downside of this is that it takes a while. It’ll be all healed up in about an hour or so.”

“ An hour?” Uvogin, who has abandoned his afro and traded it for long standing hair. “Feitan, I thought you said she was good? We could’ve gone to that one guy and got it done right then and there.”

“She’s the best. Wait.” His hands are in his pockets and he moves. Feitan looks around and touches whatever he pleases. You try not to focus on his compliment. You wonder if the reason he moved from your line of sight is because he got embarrassed. If so, you won’t tease him. The Troupe are killers, afterall. 

   You start to feel the weight of your nen. This technique requires more effort than the others. Feitan explained it to you but you never did get the hang of it. You just know what to do instinctively. You were proud that you could do any of this without a teacher.

 What you’re sure of is that this man, whatever his name is, is giving you a crap ton of money after this or there’ll be hell to pay. 

   You feel something tickling the side of your face. The wrapper is red and unopened. You take the energy bard gratefully. “Thank you, Feitan.”

A couple of the Troupe members complain about the time. Machi or Mochi or whatever, the pink haired one, especially complains and criticizes for some reason. You have never seen this person before in your life yet here she is pouting. 

  “You okay?” You see the blond boy with big blue eyes study you closely. He moves closer to your face. A smile never leaves his face. Before you can answer, Feitan, who hasn’t left your side since you ate the bar, answers for you. 

“She’s fine. I’m watching her.”

You hear a couple of snickers. Feitan glares daggers at the offenders. You take a deep breath and ignore the friends who decided to crowd inside your hut. The boy with the forehead tattoo lies peacefully. Although you are running out of steam, his wound is healing nicely. One of the women, you believe it’s Pakunoda, comes to you and bends down. 

“Can I get you anything?” You discover that your throat is absolutely parched. “Some water, please.”

  If you remember correctly, the last you saw of her was when her head was shaved and some outsider kid did it. She had always kept it short. And now, it’s on her shoulders and very sleek. Over the years she’s drastically changed.

  You drink the water, which to your surprise, is clean. “Hey, how did this happen anyway?”

  “Don’t ask questions.” Feitan quickly shuts you down. Before you can ask anything more, you notice the entire group of friends are quiet. 

  “It’s nothing for you to worry about, okay?” You nod at the blonde boy with blue eyes and a permanent smile. Completing the hour, the tattoo guy is up. He’s immediately impressed. “My name’s Chrollo Lucilfer. Yours?” He puts out his hand for you to shake. 

  “Yeah, the book collector-theater nerd-kid, right? My name’s-” Before you can even answer, Feitan does it for you. 

  He gives your name and how your Nen works. He’s quick with it, too. You side eye Feitan for a second. “Thanks, Feitan. I, uh, really needed a spokesperson.”

“Ah, I guess it can’t be helped then, Feitan?” There’s tension in the air. It’s thick and heavy. By the looks of it, neither one is backing down. “Um, it’s not a big deal that he answered for me, you do know that, right?”

  Seconds pass through this. You look around for anyone to intervene with this. Whatever the hell is going on, it’s deep. “Since Fei explained it, why not have her join?”

“Positions are filled.” Chrollo still stares directly into Feitan’s eyes. Phinks nervously chuckles, once again trying to defuse the situation. “Fei, come on. No fighting. Right boss?”

  Suddenly, it’s lifted. Chrollo has what looks like a practiced smile on his face. “That’s true. That’s a rule.”

  Chrollo takes a glance at you. “She obviously means a lot to you. Clearly, she’s an asset, too.”

  “I’m right here, jackass.” Feitan smacks you on the head. “I’ll handle her.” 

  The others sigh in relief. Momentarily, you’re a little offended. “It was nice meeting you.”

They exit your hut right after, leaving Feitan behind. “So. those were your friends, huh?”

“Watch tongue.” You smack your lips and roll your eyes. There is blood on the floor and on the table. The furniture is in disarray due to all of his friends having no home training.  “I haven’t seen you in forever and this is how you greet me?”

 He frowns. “I say hello all the time.” You turn to him. “When? I didn’t see you.”

Feitan huffs and kicks the ground lightly. You get up to move the furniture back to place. Your movements are slow and everything seems so much heavier. Everything is swirling right before your eyes. Your head hurts and yet feels so light. Before you meet the ground, Feitan takes you to the couch and lays you down. 

  “I haven’t seen you in so long, little boy…” Those were the last words you say before you drift to sleep. 

Hours later, you wake up at the sound of birds. There is a beautiful blue blanket on you with golden yellow designs. It’s thick and so warm you could stay forever. You’ve never owned anything like this. 

  Slowly you get up and search for Feitan. He’s nowhere to be found much to your dismay. Last night’s conversation still stays with you. He insisted that he says hello all the time. That he sees you regularly, yet, you haven’t seen him at all. 

  The blanket, the wind chime, the medical supplies, the various decorations with stones, paint and if you weren’t smart, you’d say gold. Could Feitan have been the one to give you gifts? Silently watching over you and in his own way, saying hello? You have felt like you were being watched for years. 

____________

  “Do you understand why I didn’t welcome you?”

“No, and I never will. Now please, leave me alone.” You feel convicted by turning a man of God away, but can he truly be one when he left a child to suffer? You were in the cold, wind, and rain, alone in one of the worst parts of the city. All you had was Feitan, and he was there once in a blue moon. After the rejection from the church, you took it upon yourself to care for others as no one had ever cared for you. Although hurt and afraid, you chose not to spread that toxicity. You decided that no matter the size of change, it still works. 

 However, you will not fall prey to the same people. For instance, that girl you saved and this priest. How can he expect your services with no repentance or atonement? You forgive, but like hell will you forget. 

Damn…you were so sure you were over the pain of your past. That the change you made within yourself and how you treat people so no one else suffers like you, would stick. Alas, all it takes is one person to bring it down. You want to kick yourself because of the regression. Then again, the hostility isn’t your fault.

You walk into the hallway with small statues, stone walls, and large windows. The sun shines brightly through them, making the church seem prettier than it is.

“Please-”

“She said no.” Feitan stands with his hands in his pockets, the sun shining on his pale skin. It has been a few months since the incident with Chrollo. You haven’t seen any of them but have felt eyes on you, which you have deduced was Feitan. However, you learned the truth of the blanket. The name stitched on it belonged to an old clan, the Kurta, that was mutilated, tortured, and murdered by the Phantom Troupe. It disgusts you. The blanket is comfortable but still. 

Feitan, the boy who you taught to tie his shoes, gave you a trophy of his crime. You wanted to burn it, or bury it in the memory of the Kurta, yet you couldn’t. It’s a gift from the one consistent person in your life. Your protector and giver. So, you folded it and put it in a box. 

   Now, here he is like he’s done nothing wrong. Defending you and putting the man that’s been with the city for ages in his place. You’re shocked at his behavior. 

  “Feitan, surely you must understand!” 

“Shut up.” Father Rizole took a step back in surprise. Feitan was one of his regulars, if you remember correctly. This must be a surprise for the aging priest. 

You hum at the scene. Even though the rumors of what the Troupe has done bothers you, it doesn’t mean you aren’t opposed to the benefits. The priest backs up and sighs. 

“If you ever reconsider, please, let me know. We could use your help.”

“I could’ve used it too.” You end the conversation there and leave. Feitan soon follows you. He’s silent on his feet and very fast. Feitan was behind you but his quick feet caught up in less than a second. Now, he walks right at your side. 

“So, you just decide when you want to see me?” 

Feitan shrugs. “I don’t know.” 

Sighing, you turn to him and ask, “What do you need this time?” The lower half of his face is hiding under a plain cowl now. His eyes show all of the emotion needed. “I just hang out.”

  The sun is too hot for this nonsense. Sweat trickles down your face and back, becoming sticky. “So that’s why you’re here, right? I’m shocked.”

Before he can say your name, you continue. “Oh! And let's not forget the little massacre that took place, huh? Yeah, being used to heal your friend from that was really fun.”

“I didn’t.”

 You roll your eyes. “No, just that one guy. That’s who to you, again?”

“Boss.” You scoff at his short answer. Then, you think about the possibility. “Your boss? Then…doing that to the Kurta, wasn’t your idea, was it?”

“No, not mine.” His hands remain in his pockets. His hair blows in the wind slightly. You realize he hasn’t gotten a haircut in a while. 

“If you could, you know, go back in time…would you still do it?”

“Yes.” No hesitation, no thought put into the answer. Just a plain as day answer and a tone that leaves no room for an explanation. 

“So whatever he wants he just gets? As long as it aligns with your twisted mind, right?”

  His eyes grow darker. “I save you.”

You point to the church. “No, no you didn’t. That guy wasn’t going to do anything to me. I had it handled.”

Shaking your head, you go to leave until a hand wraps around your wrist. “Boss takes nen. I didn’t let him.”

  Was that what that was? That tension that day that was suffocating? Remembering that day, you start to form pieces. “Would he hurt you if you didn’t go along with his schemes?”

“No.” 

Well there goes that idea. “Nevermind.”

You try to yank your wrist from his grip, but it’s iron tight. “Let me go!”

“I protect you, always. Bad people here, everywhere. I get dirty for you.” His face is indifferent but his words give it away. The plea for you to understand and realize, dare you say, his devotion to his friends. Does this include you?

Is that what it is? What friendship, this connection is? You are aware of the deeds the Troupe do. You understand why they thought it would be a good idea (somewhat anyway). 

“Thank you, then.” He lets go of your wrist which was grabbed painfully tight. He trades that in for holding your hand instead. You are shocked at first, but if you make it a big deal, he’ll stop. You don’t want him to right now. 

  Not when you feel safe. You still want to kick yourself… and maybe throw in a punch.

_____

Apparently, the Troupe have gone their separate ways for now. They don’t cling onto each other for a long period of time after a job. It’s better that way since it has a lesser chance of them getting caught. They still hang out from time to time, though. 

For you, you managed to get out of Meteor City after the argument with the priest. Feitan had gone to do another heist with Phinks, if you remember right. You took that moment to skip town. You never wanted to stay in the trash, anyway. 

  And you were right to! Everything you thought of as a child about the world outside was true! Sure, people can be rude and things can be corrupt, but you’re fed and resting. There are bright lights and kind people. It can be clean and the soap smells so good. Just the other day you got to experience a nail salon. Rather than stealing from you, the lady next to you, Jade, talked about her family. Her daughter is Ruby and her wife is Scarlet. Jade and Scarlet want another child. You offered the name Emerald. 

  In Meteor City, you would’ve had to fight. Now, you are making friends and offering beautiful names. It’s a stark contrast that is fully welcomed. 

  The sun is bright and the moon is sometimes round. It doesn’t always attract evil and can sometimes sing such a beautiful melody. There are pearls and diamonds. There are seasonings that make the food taste unbelievably good. It’s all expensive, but infinitely better than Meteor. 

And Nen is a secret here. In the city, many knew about it and used it without discretion. Here it’s different. Like a secret identity for a hero. Your nen in particular isn’t used as much as it was before. Your ability was so tiring. Pretty and incredibly useful, but exhausting nonetheless. 

  It has been a few years since you saw him, but he’s seen you. He found you quickly, too. When you came home from your office job (which you are still ecstatic about, by the way) you noticed a new painting in your house. It was dull and in black and white. The painting is of a few plants that take the center stage. Actually, they’re your nen plants. In the background is what looks like your old city. Piles of rubbish and polluted air in black swirls. There are clouds above and a dark sun barely poking out. 

  It’s sad. Beautiful, but sad. You have wondered what he meant by it. You open the door to your apartment. It’s not much and one day you want to get a house. 

  The keys make a jingle when you set them on the countertop. The apartment is still dark, so you scramble to flip the switch. “Why you leave?”

You scream at the top of your lungs. Standing there nonchalantly is Feitan, who you haven’t had contact with in a hot minute. His hair is even longer than before. He wears a new cowl that has a skull on it over his face. His trench coat looks a little too big for him but he wears it well anyway. 

  “Uh, because I live here? What are you doing here?” You set your bag down and take off your short heels. Although he’s a murderer, you still feel safe with him. 

 He takes slow strides towards you. “ Why? I looked for you and you weren’t there.”

“You knew where I was. I got your presents,” You point to the painting. He hides his face a little in the fabric. “I like it by the way. Did you do it?”

“Shut up.” You sigh and walk into your kitchen. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

 You begin to wash the rice. Your eyes switch from looking down to taking obvious glances at him. Right about now, he should be in his mid twenties. It’s amazing how long you’ve known each other. You remember him as that kid who didn’t know how to tie his shoes and him teaching you about Nen. Time flies so fast when you least expect it. 

  You crack the eggs and whisk them. The sound of the utensil against the bowl and the sizzle of the tomatoes in the pan is all that is heard. Feitan doesn’t make one sound. He opts to stare at you working and even has a glint in his eye which you think could be satisfaction. 

  “Do you still like this, by the way? I remember you snatching it.” You try not to smile at the memory. 

 “I do.” He hovers in your kitchen, just waiting, watching you do all of the work. Stingy bastard. After adding the seasonings, you could have never gotten in Meteor City, you fix him a plate. He happily accepts it and sits down on the floor. 

“I have a tab-” Oh, the memory. Allowing yourself to smile, you sit with him and eat off of his plate. “We’re sharing. ”

 He gives a slight growl but doesn’t do anything. “So, what brings you by?”

“I say hello.” You hum with a mouth full of food. “Well, hello to you too, little boy.”

He gives you a light kick. The two of you finish the plate. Both full, you just lay back and talk. 

“How long are you staying?” 

“Not long.” You’ll miss him. “Running from the cops again?”

“Need to hide out for a bit.” You nod, accepting his answer and that your connection will probably always be sweet moments. “It’s nice to have you here, even only for a moment.”

  Feitan taps you again with his foot. “I’m always here. I say hello all the time.” You know and are fully aware of what he means. His odd little gifts decorate your house. To bones, to rugs, even a china set he stole. It’s routine for him to give you something, even when you don’t see him. 

“Even though you run.” He kicks you again. The more you watch him, the more your chest tightens. He’s the only consistent thing in your life. Everything is fleeting. Your job is new as well as your relationship with your coworkers. But there is a line with them. Feitan is different.

  “How long are we going to do this dance?”

“I don’t dance.” You roll your eyes and laugh. “I mean you coming by once in a blue moon.” 

  He shrugs. “I don’t know.” You nod. “Figures.”

He frowns. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, that this whole thing is tiring. You come and go like some kind of feral cat.”

  “So?”

You sputter, “ So I don’t appreciate it.” He takes off his long coat and reveals his chest, next goes his shoes. “I sleep here.”

“You can’t use me!” He gets up and goes in the direction of your room. “Feitan!” You pick up his clothes and set them aside. “Do you hear me? I wasn’t done talking!”

  On your bed is a sprawled out Feitan. He looks at you with squinted eyes. “Shut up, I’m trying to sleep.”

  Like always, he makes himself at home. You sigh, giving up on trying to talk to him. “Move over.” 

  He scoffs and reluctantly moves out of your way. You feel him tense up as you lay down. “This is my bed. I can sleep here.”

  You face each other as you lay down. Neither of you say anything about how close you are. This is probably the closest you’ve ever been since you helped him tie his shoes the second time. You feel his eyes on you, making you nervous. “Stop staring at me.”

  “Never sleep with someone in a while.” You know. The last time was with you, no doubt. At the time, you didn't think about it, if you remember correctly. It's hard to tell since it's been so long. 

“The couch is that way.” He smacks his lips. “No, you go.” You open your eyes. 

“Like I said, this is my bed.” Feitan doesn’t say anything about your ownership. Instead, he’s honest with you. “I’m tired.”

  Instantly, you start to feel a little bad. In the city, no child was ever able to fully sleep. It was too dangerous, especially in the more dangerous districts. Him being honest about his state, you take it as a step. 

  “If you want to, I’ll be on the lookout.” His hands are next to yours. You grab them, just like he did those few years ago. “You can sleep now, Feitan.” 

  You don’t know when, don’t know how either, but you two do end up sleeping. His eyes are closed and his breath even. Your eyes flutter open and see that he’s got slight dark under eyes and his mouth leaking drool. Feitan looks peaceful, sleepy, like he hasn’t done this in a while. 

  The next morning, he’s gone with no evidence he was even there.

_________________

  You watch on the tv screen above the bank about the attack on York New, a city not too far from you. The attack happened a few days ago but it’s still in the headlines. You don’t blame them, to be honest. It was an insane event that over two thousand people died! 

  You cling onto your boyfriend’s arm. He touches your hand reassuringly. His watch gleams in the moonlight and his suit is perfectly pressed. He's the entire package, he’s perfect. A good job, good manners, an honest man, and treats you well, too. He always holds the chair out for you and gets up when you leave the room. Just like a true gentleman. 

  When you first met, it was a classic coffee shop romance. Then it blossomed into a romantic and expensive dinner, the movies, a nighttime walk in the park, all of the classic dates. In every single one of them he was the perfect gentleman, the perfect man. You like him and how he treats you. How consistent he is. He's the type of man you can rely on. 

  Nevertheless, there is a bothersome voice in the back of your head that reminds you of someone he just isn’t. He’s not Feitan Portor. You don’t feel the contentment Feitan gives when the two of you sleep. You don’t study your boyfriend’s features like you did Feitan.

Dammit, why are you thinking of him? He’s not around and you haven’t seen him in what? Two or three years? So why think of him now. Plus, you haven’t received a gift or a ‘hello’ from him. For all you know, he could be dead.

  “Are you alright?” You wake from your thoughts and look at your boyfriend. His hair is dark, blending in with the night. Eyes kind and green, a Grecian nose, and average sized lips revealing a dazzling smile. Not only is the very essence of him suave, but his looks are also perfect. Tall and handsome, well dressed and a smooth voice. 

It's just that one five foot one pest that won’t get out of your head. 

  “Y-yeah just…it’s all so shocking. York New is literally over there.” You point past the river where more tall buildings reside in the distance.

“I know, I know.” He brings you in close to him. He places a kiss on your head. “Don’t worry, nothing will happen to you.” 

Suddenly, the newscaster stops mid sentence and gasps. Before you know it, the Phantom Troupe have been named the offenders that caused all of this. Two thousand people. Feitan, did you really kill that many people?

“I would like to go home. I don’t feel the greatest.” He rubs your arm, you still being tucked into his side. Your excuse was a lie to cover the gnawing feeling towards Feitan and his deeds. Although the Phantom Troupe’s original intentions were from a decent stand point, it seems they’ve lost their way. Feitan has lost his way. 

  The gifts have stopped coming, him no longer saying hello. After the last time, when you made him familiar food and sat in a comfortable silence, he disappeared. This time, there was something about it that hurt. Like he didn’t want to come around. He didn’t want to say hello anymore. Or perhaps, he died which if confirmed, you would ache beyond help. 

  “The Phantom Troupe is dead.” The newscaster said. The crowd gasped, shocked that the most feared criminals in the world are gone. Did you jinx it? Curse the little boy who needed you to tie his shoes. The boy who liked your cooking and made sure you rested. Had strong faith in you, never doubting. Protected you from the shadows and held your hand. 

  Is he really gone? 

You hide your face in your boyfriend’s jacket. Tears stream from your eyes at the thought of his grave. With the Troupe, his friends dead, you’d be the only one to truly mourn him. To remember his name beyond his violence. 

You clutch your chest. “Are you okay? Does your chest hurt?” He grabs you by your shoulders, making you face him. He’s such a kind, decent man. But he’s not Feitan Portor. 

  “I just need to rest. I’ll call you tomorrow.” You give him a chaste kiss goodbye. Once he leaves, your chest hurts even more. You slide down as you look around at all the menace’s little gifts. The painting, the skull, the windchimes, everything he’s given you. Why, oh why, couldn’t you stay here long enough for your gift, Feitan?

Wait, what could you have given him anyway? He’s a thief that takes what he pleases and has nothing to wish for. 

You lay on your couch and put your arm over your face. The tears refuse to stop for even just a second. You don’t know what you’re crying harder for. Feitan or the confusing feelings for him. Now that he’s gone, you can’t properly tell him. How can you explain it? 

  It’s heavy on your chest and tightens it. You want to feel his body heat no matter how hot the day is. There are no small flutters in your stomach at the thought of him. No, it's something in your heart. You want to stare at him, to memorize every feature he has. To hear his soft voice that is just a centimeter away from a whisper. Just melt in his touch, his presence. Wait, why is this happening? You barely knew him! Does that fact even matter though?

 You slip your hand in your underwear, still staring at the ceiling, sniffling at the news of his death. You imagine the future. Seeing him walk into your house and setting his belongings on the table. Wrapping his arms around you and kissing your back. No matter how long you’ve known him, his stature never fails to amuse you. He’d paw at your body, tearing off your clothes. Feitan wouldn’t hesitate to use his hands for your pleasure. 

  You trace your fingers in the direction you think he’d go. Curling your fingers inside, thrusting them in harshly, knowing that he can only be gentle in his own way. Your back arches from the couch. You swear you can smell him and the faint metallic scent that he holds. The feeling of his ragged breath on your cheek you could swear is real. 

  You moan as you take that jump you’ve searched for. Thinking of how good Feitan would make you feel. You're relentless on yourself, still going as strong as he’d be. Adding another finger, going faster and faster on your clit. Your moaning gets louder as the indiscernible amount of time goes on. 

‘ The Phantom Troupe is dead.’

You crash on the couch with one last gasp. The dream of the two of you ends in flames. The house, the passion, the years that go by in that home. Maybe even a child or two. Seeing him in the morning with a groggy voice is gone. Rubbing his eyes and saying he wants more eggs and tomatoes is no longer there.

  What would your gift be to Feitan? Memories? Sex? Food? Nothing fits. He can have those with anyone. 

  You slip yourself out from your underwear. It didn’t distract you. Perhaps if you thought of your boyfriend, it would have. But the feelings you have towards Feitan went beyond physical. What is this? What do you call this?

  Love? Time stops at the realization. It has to be that. That would have been your gift to him. Love. You cover your mouth as you admit it to yourself. 

'I love you Feitan Portor. I won’t forget you. I love your messed up hair and soft voice. For how you didn’t reject me when the world did. I will do the same for you. I’ll look past your torturous ways and miss you anyway. Maybe the world will curse you, but I’ll mourn you. Bury you so no one can spit on you anymore. I love you Feitan. 

   I’m in love with you Feitan Portor. This is my gift to you. For you to know that you will not be forgotten even though I never got to tell you, to thank you for everything. For leaving the baseball bat with me to protect myself. For painting that picture for me. All of the little gifts you thought I’d like, too. Thank you for protecting me from the priest and the wolves that hunted me every day when we were young.'

You stare at the ceiling till the earliest of mornings. It’s still dark, still heavy with the night sky. There’s some rumbling in the distance, a flash of light in the sky. You don’t bother to confirm anything. 

Just as you close your eyes, the window opens with a creak. You move your eyes to see the figure before you. The darkness covers it, only leaving the silhouette. “Why cry?”

You squint, trying to make out the features.  “Are you real?”

“Very.” It must be a lie. A cruel humor the world has. “Stop crying.” 

“I can’t. Not when you sound like him.” The figure cocks his head, that much you can see with the flash of lightning behind him. “Him?”

“Someone who can’t tie his shoes.” Your lip wobbles again. “I can tie them now.” The moon glows enough to show his face now as he steps up to you. Feitan’s delicate features peek out from his cowl. 

 You shake your head in denial. “It’s not real. It can’t be. You’re dead, Fei.” Your voice is hoarse from your sobs. 

  He looks shocked at your words. The man who looks like Feitan smacks your feet off the end of the couch so he can sit. 

“I’ll miss you Feitan Portor.” The longer you stare at the imaginary man, the more you hurt. “Well, stop.”

  He roughly wipes away the tears. “Ugly when you cry.” His face is close to yours. Since he’ll be gone by the time you come to your senses, you grab his face and kiss him. He sharply inhales, not expecting your sudden decision. 

  He growls against your lips, “Stupid brat.” 

  He feels real. He smells real, familiar too. You tell him such and with furrowed brows and a strong grip of his hand, he grabs your jaw and makes you look at him. “I’m real, you idiot.”

“They said you died…” You comb his hair through your fingers. It’s real, he's real . So, what’s going on? Before you can ask him, he cradles you. “Stop crying or I’ll go.”

  Your lips wobble at his threat. Rather than listening to it, you hug him. He nestles on top of you, hips placed between yours. He’s light, lighter than you thought so it isn’t a bother.

  “You’re so ugly when you cry. Don’t cry.” He holds you closer and kisses your head. Against your ear, you feel his lips move. You can’t tell what he’s mouthing. When the two of you comfortably slept those years ago, that was the closest you’ve been. Now, this beats that record. Face to face, body to body, and sharing breaths. 

  After a few moments of thunder and lightning, he kisses you gently. Not at all like the desperate one like before. Realistically, you know these feelings you have for him seem fake. You’ve only had a few moments with him. So, why are they so significant? Are they with him too? Is it possible that love can blossom quickly?

  Gentle kisses turn passionate, never wanting to separate. Little nibbles on the right places and sucks on all of the best ones. Clothes leave, not wanting to get between the two friends, those who dance around each other. For the first time, they meet. 

His hands reach your throat as he kisses you, making sure to give it a light squeeze. His weight is still on you, not hurting in the slightest. Feitan makes sure his hand reaches below and swirls his thumb on your bud. You gasp, surprised you were right about how he’d do it. Every ministration he does is exactly how it was pictured. Your hands don’t compare to it. Not by a long shot. 

  Despite his size, his hands are still bigger than yours. They reach deeper than you and are thicker too. In no time, you come, the bliss lasting a good minute before he sheathes himself inside. His thickness is more than you thought. It’s a bit of a stretch, but in a good way. 

  His gasps quicken with every thrust. You can tell that you're being loud, way louder than when you touched yourself. Feeling the rush and strength of his movements has you claw his back in ecstasy. He groans at the sensation. Finally, after this time of passion and intimacy, you both hold each other as you fall off of that cliff.

  Feitan looks into your eyes. With a softness that no one in the world could’ve predicted the torturer of the Phantom Troupe to have, kisses you. “Don’t cry anymore. Don’t cry.”

 “It’s hard not to when I know you’ll leave.” Silently, Feitan removes himself from inside you. It’s become routine, so you expect him to walk out. He lays back down, his head on your stomach. You run your fingers through his hair. He needs a haircut. 

--

 You wake up, not realizing that you went asleep in the first place. Before you can get up, you feel pressure on your stomach. Feitan rests on you still, eyes completely closed and his face peaceful. The two of you are naked and the only source of heat is each other. As much as you want to wrap your arms around him, you know he’ll react negatively or at least flinch. 

  Soon after, he stretches and rubs his face against your stomach. Like before, he drooled in his sleep. “Good morning.” 

He grunts in response and sits up on his heels. It takes him a moment to remember the night before. His eyes widen as he looks you up and down, making you highly aware of your current state. You cover yourself with a blanket draped over the couch. 

  “I have to go.” Ah, right. He’s a cat. 

He gets dressed. Once he has his boots on, you see him tie them the way you taught him. “Proud of you. You finally learned huh?”

 “Brat.” You laugh a little at him. Once he’s done you ask, “Will I ever see you again?"

He cradles your face. “I come back.” You nod, holding back tears. He studies your face and settles on your eyes. He must have realized that you were trying not to cry. His hands still remain on your face as he kisses you. He lingers there for a minute. A parting kiss, a meaningful one. 

  Something tells you that this feral cat isn’t going away anytime soon. That he’ll always be constant and you won’t be totally alone. A companion you won’t see everyday and only for a night. 

 This is the gift you’ll give him. You’ll be home for him. 

___________________

Months later, news about the Chimera Ants came out. You had already broken up with your boyfriend and heard he had left town to avoid them. Of course, you followed suit and got the hell out of there. 

  Without any plan, you moved back to Meteor City, where you thought that they wouldn’t be. Alas, that was stupid. You made a home base in the residential area. Not knowing that Meteor City was plagued by the wretched beasts. 

  By God’s grace, you managed to avoid them due to you being in the residential district. News that the Phantom Troupe were home to fight them ran rampant. The thought of Feitan made you nervous and you don’t know why. 

  Suddenly, right as you put away your dishes, the door opened. You grabbed a knife and faced the intruder. Standing there was the Phantom Troupe, who once again, barged into your home like they owned the place. 

  “What the hell?” You shout. The first one is Phinks with a wide smile. “There she is! Fei, I found her!”

  You put your hand on your hip. “Seriously, what are you doing her-you’re dragging in mud, take off your shoes!”

 “It’s only a little.” Phinks pouts. “I don’t care! You don’t live here.” 

Phinks and his friends grumble as they do as they’re told. The last one to enter the house is Feitan, who is notably holding his left arm. Without being told, he removes his shoes. 

  “Feitan…” He hasn’t faced you yet. “What happened to your arm?” 

“I’m injured too, (Y/n)!” The smiling boy with round eyes whines. You have no idea what his name is. Only that he and the rest are in Feitan’s gang. 

  “Alright, let me see.” He lays down on your clean table and says, “It’s all over. I need the full treatment!” 

  “Ugh, fine.” You grumble under your breath about the disrespect and your poor table. Finally, Feitan sits on one of the pushed aside chairs. He says, “I need it too.”

  “Big babies.” 

You heal the biggest cry baby completely. The blond, whose name you now know as Shalnark, stretches. “If it weren’t for you, I would’ve been hurting all day!”

  Rolling your eyes, you turn to Feitan who has been silent. He holds out his arm for you. You take the limb and inspect it. 

 “Completely shattered.” He grunts in agreement. He stares into your eyes and gives you a familiar slight smile. You notice that his friends are quiet, not a sound or word among them. 

“You guys alright?” You ask. The girl shakes her head yes and ‘whispers’ to the rest. “Should we leave them alone?”

  “Probably.” A mummy with boxing gloves answers. You’ve never seen him before in your life. 

“Uh, we’ll check the place out. Y’know, make sure it’s safe.” Shalnark shoos the little kid out and into a separate room, your bedroom. “We’ll clear this out in case you guys need it!”

  You huff and roll your eyes. Feitan’s cheeks are red and he’s glaring daggers at his friends. The girl goes outside with the remaining three to check the area. You and your feral cat are alone. 

“What are they checking for? I’m in a residential area.” 

“Ants.” 

  “They’re here? In the safe zone?” You begin to panic until he grabs your hand. “You’re safe now. They’re not in the city anymore.”

“Wha-how? What’s going on?”

  He pinches you lightly, encouraging you to heal his wounds. “Oh, right, right.” Flowers of all colors circle around. They begin to smooth over Feitan’s wounds. You take a second to wipe the blood off of his lip, letting there be some room for the petals to go. 

“How’s the other guy look?”

“She's toasted.” You smile. “Atta boy.”

  He’s healed, the petals and flowers disappear. You lick your lips at the sight of his bare chest. You didn’t notice before due to the audacity of these heathens barging in. 

  His heart rate quickens. “You leave again.”

You nod. “Yeah, yeah I did. I had to, Fei. the Chimera Ants invaded. I had to run.”

“With your boyfriend?”

You let out a small gasp. “ No. How do you know that?” He crosses his arms and leans back in the chair. “You lie.”

“I didn’t lie to you. I just never said anything.”

  “Words of a liar.” You scoff at him. “I did not lie to you. I lied to him. You don’t have any business with our relationship.”

At first, he was looking at his lap. Those grey eyes of his immediately found a new target to glare at. “You’re not with him anymore. ”

“No. Why does that matter?” He begins to tap his foot lightly. “Why did you break up?” 

  “You hungry?” You start to get up until you’re tugged down. “Why?”

When you don’t answer, he whispers in your ear. “Because I fucked you?” Your face is so warm. 

“If we run, we can still make it out.”

“Why are we running?” A small voice asks.

“Because I think they need the room.” 

“Will you two shut up?!” You are two seconds away from running out of your own damn house. You stand and his hands hold you by your hips. “Tell me why you leave him?”

  “Because of you.” It’s embarrassing to tell him your feelings. Hopefully, he can read your mind or something and shut up. He sighs and stands, walking over to you without a hitch. He kisses you. 

  “That’s what you get for lying.” He’s not remorseful or even boastful. Feitan takes your answer in stride. “No more leaving. Stay so I can find you.”

“You’ll always find me, remember?”

______________

Time after that, you were stuck in charge of Chrollo’s lover or something. She’s not too bad but clearly traumatized. Anytime you’d tell her to go with you, she’d look shocked. Like she was surprised she could leave. You were suspicious of her relationship with Chrollo. Something didn’t sit right with you whenever he or Feitan came up. She’d tense up. She never talked about it either. From what you understand with the little information you have, is that she was a former member that raised an orphan and that Chrollo loved her immensely. Perhaps too much.

  From what you know, there was a big showdown on the Dark Continent and the boat that was taking a voyage to the fake one. The Phantom Troupe were on that one at first, fighting Hisoka Marrow. He was a sore loser that got humbled and decided to attack again. 

  Amazingly, only a few died. You didn’t want to know the details or anything. You can’t go through that again. So, after that news, you and Chrollo’s lover parted ways. She went on to find a kid she raised. You, on the other hand, decided to settle out of Meteor City. This was almost a year ago.

  You have an apartment now in the town where you and your boyfriend lived, right next to York New. It’s basic, not fitting any aesthetic or anything. The good thing about it is that it’s bigger than your first one. It’s two bedroom and has a good price. 

   Feitan hasn’t reappeared. It tore you to shreds. You’ve managed to piece yourself together bit by bit, but you are a hollow version of yourself. Surviving and not enjoying the little things you used to. You even saw Jade, Scarlet, Ruby, and the new child, Emerald. Even that heartwarming moment didn’t fulfill you. However, it was the first time you smiled in a while. 

  You stir the food in the pot. Since it’s a little chilly, you made soup. You put the lid over the pot, letting it cook. There’s a knock on the door. You open it and see the man you’ve waited for. 

  Feitan is in dark clothing and has a large scar on his face. There’s no cowl over him, or a large trench coat. His hands are in his pockets, and he looks at you expectantly. You realize that you’ve just been standing there, you move to let him in. Once again, he makes himself at home. 

  “How’ve you been?” 

“You leave again.” He states bluntly. His eyebrows are furrowed and has a frown on his face. 

“Bold of you, very bold.” You move around him. “Why did you go?”

“Because I’d never stay in that city forever. The Ants were gone, the world settled. So why couldn’t I? That place is gross anyway.”

  He sits on the barstool and cracks his neck. You ask a question right after he sits. “How long you here for?”

You don’t know why you asked that. He’ll only be here for a moment. A while ago, you had made the decision to accept it as your gift to him. To love and mourn him when the world won’t. When news about the Phantom Troupe hit, you couldn’t bear to hear it. Their trip to the fake Dark Continent, then their corrected course to the right one, ended in a battle with them facing Hisoka and Illumi and everything else over there. 

  It was too hard for you to think about. That doesn’t mean you didn’t mourn and that you’ve snapped out of it.

   “For good.” 

You look up into his eyes. For the first time in a long time, he’s smiling with soft eyes. You see that he has a dimple on his left cheek. “W-what about-”

“Done for a while. Maybe forever. I know I’m staying.”

   “But your friends, where are they?” He shrugs even though you see the tension. “Separate. We split for a bit.” 

  He rubs his shoulders nervously. “Can I stay with you?” 

“Wow, you’re asking? Shocked.” You tap on the counter. The weight you’ve been carrying is lightened. “Feitan?”

“Yes?” He gets off of the stool and makes his way around the counter. “You know how you give me all those gifts?”

  He nods his head. “Well, this is my gift to you, Feitan Portor. You can stay as long as you like.” 

  He wraps his arms around you. He’s hugging you. This time, you aren’t afraid to hold him back and squeeze. Maybe, just maybe, this is what home is? 

  If the Phantom Troupe resurrects, at least you know he’ll always come home. That you two will be a constant force for each other. No matter if it does or doesn't, you two aren't dancing but admitting things you couldn't. This is home, a gift for each other.  

#feitan portor #feitan x reader #feitan porter x reader #hxh #hxh fanfic #slight yandere #q #phantom troupe #hunter x hunter #hxh feitan #idk what to put here rn

[skyyletai]

pov: the yandere kidnapper released the reader from the basement/house for the first time in a long time

#hxh #twst #phantom troupe #yandere x reader #feitan porter x reader #feitan #tokrev #yandere hxh #chrollo x reader #shalnark x reader #illumi x reader #sanzu x reader #yandere chrollo

[rotten-pomegranate]

Headcanons with Feitan x reader being in a relationship and what their fights would be like?? :3

Yes Tehe

This is short ngl

Warnings: abuse(he hits reader), smut

ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ

He gets mad at dumb stuff all the time and picks a fight with you, it’s like he feeds off it

Fighting with Feitan is like fighting q a brick wall to be honest, just because how little he’s actually listening to you

Even if you prove him wrong he’s not gonna change his mind and he won’t admit it either, if you keep bugging him about it he might backhand you across the face

And PRAY your not wrong because if you are he’s not gonna let you forget it for like a week, he’ll constantly bring it up and if you avoid the topic he’ll make fun of you, don’t you dare do that to him though because his trusty backhand will make another appearance if you do

There is some rare occasions where seeing you all fired up gets him hard and it ends in him fucking you against the nearest surface

©rotten-pomegranate- All rights reserved, don’t steal, translate, copy, plagiarize, claim my work as your own or post it on other platforms.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hxh feitan x reader #hunter x hunter feitan x reader #feitan x reader smut #yandere feitan #feitan smut #feitan x reader #feitan hxh #hunter x hunter feitan #hxh feitan #feitan #feitan portor #feitan porter x reader #writing

[novasdarling]

I just got an idea what if Feitan came home injured (like after his fight with zazan) and the darling had to take care of him a little (I love your writings by the way ❤️)

Thanks! Sorry, this is so short.

Tending To a Wound

TW: Past kidnapping, Wounds Mentioned, Stockholm Syndrome Setting in, Gender Neutral.

He had been gone far longer than usual. Feitan told you the longest he’d be away was only a week, two weeks if things went badly. Yet, here you were three weeks later waiting for him. It wasn’t like Feitan to be so late without any notice. He had even set up a phone for you to communicate. One that he could monitor from his, the only numbers it was allowed to call were his own and a few other troupe members. He would send a text or call if plans changed. However, there was nothing, he didn’t even pick up your calls. The panic that was building was a stark change from how you were when he left. You were upset at him, for kidnapping you and always leaving you alone. Pushing him away, while simultaneously wanting some form of human interaction. Now all you craved was his touch. His conversations. It wasn't right to worry and want him, but you did.

Finally, the door opened, revealing Feitan. Only something was wrong. Walking towards him you noticed one of his arms wasn’t moving like the other. Rather, it wasn’t moving at all.

“Feitan, I-is your arm bro-”

“Get the kit.”

You knew exactly what he was talking about. He kept an extreme first aid kit in the bathroom. It had the normal material, plus more. Material to make a cast, strong medications, materials for stitches. It had it all, considering his profession it was regularly needed. It was a logical choice. Rushing to the bathroom, you grabbed the box and headed back to him. He was seated on the couch. One arm clutching the injured. You sat near him, passing what was needed when he asked. Cleaning products for the wound, wipes, ointment, and bandages. There was nothing you could really do besides helping him with the products or cleaning the wound. It was all you knew how to do.

Your mind began to race as you watched him. It looked back, cuts and broken bones. This could have been the time he didn’t come back. You could have been left to die here in this place. The food would of ran out, you would have starved. It was doubtful that any of his ‘friends’ would come and get you. Even if they did, would they really let you free? No, you knew too much about the Phantom Troupe, you’d be dead either way. The thought made everything worse, you had worried all this time about him. The thought of him not coming home scared you, but you assumed it was the lack of human companionship when he was away. Not that it was from your own desire to live.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I won.”

Feitan needed to prove to you that it didn’t matter that he was injured. Instead, all that mattered was that he won, that he did what he set out to do. He never liked you to think he wasn’t strong, that he couldn’t protect himself. In other words, protect you. It was a matter of pride.

Before you could think, you leaned in and kissed his cheek. It was unexpected for both of you. You had never kissed him willingly. He was the one that initiated the intimacy. Although, as you pulled back. Seeing his shocked expression. You realized this was how things were going to be, you needed him to live. If he left you or died, you'd be nothing. Taking the bandages from his hand, you helped him tend to his wounds. Perhaps he needed you as well in some odd way.

#yandere #yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere feitan portor #yandere feitan x reader #yandere feitan #feitan #feitan hunter x hunter #feitan portor #hxh #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #yandere phantom troupe #yandere phantom troupe x reader #feitan hxh #feitan porter x reader #yandere blog #yandere x reader #novasdarling #yandere hxh x reader #hxh x reader #yandere hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #nova writes #reader insert

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: Damned Stairs [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Title: Damned Stairs [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Synopsis: Miracles weren't real and the stairs were shitty but at least you escaped Feitan, right?

For Horrorfest request:

Ooooh what about Feitan + old house with very creaky floorboards?

Word count: 864

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of violence

It was a miracle that you escaped the house Feitan had brought you two more than a year ago. 

It was a miracle that cutting through the woods on weak, shaky legs led you to houses in no more than a few hours. They were large, old homes, spread out so the presumably wealthy owners didn’t have to deal with such mundane things like neighbors within sight or hearing distance.

It was a miracle that the first house you stumbled on had an unlocked door, meaning you didn’t have to wait for someone to answer your desperate knocks to get out of view. 

But miracles weren’t real, were they?

Because as soon as you’d burst into that miraculous house, you realized that it was abandoned. Empty. Dusty and musty and no one there but your echoing, aching voice, crying out: “Hello? Hello! I need help! I need--”

You needed to rest, that’s what you needed. So you could regain some energy and keep running until you found actual civilization. So you’d headed into the dusty kitchen and began opening cupboards, looking for something edible, for water, anything that might get you through the night.

That’s when you heard the front door begin to open. 

You didn’t need to be told that it was Feitan. 

That’s when your body had moved almost of its own accord, throwing open the first door you could find near the kitchen and shutting it behind you, heart pounding. Only it wasn’t a room you’d found, but an enclosed staircase, kept out of view. It was dark with nothing but a thin crack of light underneath the door behind you and some dim light at the top from the room above, letting in the cloudy afternoon light from the windows. 

It was a servant’s staircase, you realized, the kind that let servants get up and about without bothering the household.

There was nothing to do but go up it and oh, did the goddamn stairs creak. 

But you went fast, and the kitchen was at the back of the house, and after a moment, several moments, a long stretch of time, the fear that Feitan had heard receded into the more general horror that he’d find you eventually.

That was… an hour ago? You don’t know, you don’t have a watch and there wasn’t exactly a clock on the wall in a dusty attic that must have been the servants’ bedchamber back when the house was bustling and not covered in a layer of dust. 

You need to go back down the stairs. You have to. He’ll come up here eventually, and then you’ll be trapped. You have to get out. 

Your hands grip the bannister for everything you’ve got and you start going down slowly, carefully. Not just because it’s dark and you can barely see in front of you, but because of the damn creaking. 

Creak. 

You hate these stairs.

Creak. 

Would it be quieter to go down on your butt? 

Creak.

You feel like you might have a heart attack at any moment. 

But despite the traitorous noise of the stairs, you don’t hear the sound of Feitan’s footsteps approaching the door, and that’s a good thing, isn’t it? And… maybe you even heard the sound of the front door shutting. Or was it the wind? Or your imagination?

You wish the staircase had some light. All you could see was darkness, and that thin, wavering band at the bottom of the door leading back into the house. Where Feitan might be--or might not be; where freedom might be, or at least the first step towards it.

But was he gone?

If you went back up into the attic room, you might be able to look out the window and see if Feitan was leaving. You’d have to peer carefully (the image of him looking up at the attic window and seeing you made your chest twist) but it was an option.

Maybe you could--

Creak.

Oh. You hadn’t moved.

Creak.

A whimper bubbles past your lips and you fall backward on the staircase, a splinter sliding into your finger.

Creak.

Feitan.

Feitan had been at the bottom of the stairs the entire time. 

“Very stupid, aren’t you?

The stairs creak until he’s close enough to see, until he leans down in the gloom and gets close enough that his nose almost touches your own.

“Well?”

You nod--can he even see you properly, in the dark?--and let the tears fall. They might as well, for all the good they’ll do you.

“Stupid,” he repeats. “But mine.”

The enclosed staircase feels oppressively hot and oppressively dark. Or maybe that was Feitan, and the moment he crossed the threshold, it would go back to being some musty space that didn’t feel like anything at all. 

You feel his hand before you can really see it. He caresses your cheek in uncharacteristic softness, before his nails dig in and drag down enough to sting.

“Tell me,” he says, and there is a strange thoughtfulness in his tone, “Should I break your legs before or after we go down the stairs?

The damned stairs creak when your body instinctively leans away from him.  

#yandere feitan #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #yandere feitan porter #afterwitch writes #aw horrorfest #oops I did NOT get my masterlist ready... tomorrow tho

[yanderechaos]

Feitan finding a darling that is a dexter 👀👀👀

Love at first sight even if they're trying to kill him

#feitan porter #feitan porter x reader #feitan x reader #yandere #yandere hxh

[threads-makomo]

Hi hi! I'm Marvolo/Marv, I use he/they/it/xer/star pronouns! I'm 19 and I really wanted to start taking requests! Something happened recently with my dad so I thought maybe doing little drabbles and headcanons of some of my favorite characters might help get my mind off of things!! I'm also willing to do poly ships such as Giyuu x Reader x Sanemi as long as it isn't like minor x adult shit or just headcanons for ships that don't include reader. I'm not all that sure how to do like introductions and shit so I'm sorry if this is kinda half assed, I'll be taking requests on discord ik putting my discord on here is risky but fuck it, add me on there for requests or leave a comment on this post, pls I'm begging you 🥲

{ shits at the very bottom 💪💪 }

☆ - will do nsfw for + yandere if wanted

♡ - romantic, Platonic + Yandere

♤ - Romantic or Platonic only

◇ - strictly platonicly

Also if you don't see a character on here I probably won't be writing for them, of course some of this will change as I get further into the show or as I get more used the characters { looking at you hxh and toh- }

Demon Slayer/Kimetsu No Yaiba:

Tanjiro Kamado — ♤

Nezuko Kamado — ◇

Zenitsu Agatsuma — ♤

Inosuke Hashibira — ♤

Genya Shinazugawa — ♤

Kanao Tsuyuri — ♤

Aoi Kanzaki — ♤

Sabito — ♤

Makomo — ♤

Murata — ♤

Sumi Nakahara — ◇

Naho Takada — ◇

Kiyo Terauchi — ◇

Muichiro Tokito — ♡

Giyuu Tomioka — ☆

Gyomei Himejima — ☆

Obanai Iguro — ☆

Tengen Uzui — ☆

Makio Uzui — ☆

Hinatsuru Uzui — ☆

Suma Uzui — ☆

Kyojuro Rengoku — ☆

Sanemi Shinazugawa — ☆

Shinobou Kocho — ☆

Mitsuri Kanroji — ☆

Kanae Kocho — ♡

Hotaru Haganezuka — ☆

Shinjuro Rengoku — ☆

Ruka Rengoku — ♡

Kagaya Ubuyashiki — ☆

Amane Ubuyashiki — ☆

Kotoha Hashibira — ♤

Yoriichi Tsugikuni — ☆

Yushiro — ♡

Tamayo — ♡

Enmu — ☆

Kyogai — ♡

Mukago — ◇

Rui — ◇

Nakime — ♡

Daki — ♡

Gyutaro — ♡

Hantengu + clones — ♡

Gyokko — ♡

Akaza — ☆

Douma — ☆

Kokushibou — ☆

Muzan Kibutsuji — ☆

Hunter Hunter:

Gon Freecss — ♡

Killua Zoldyck — ♡

Alluka Zoldyck — ◇

Leorio Paladiknight — ♡

Kurapika Kurta — ♡

Hisoka Morow — ☆

Illumi Zoldyck — ☆

Chrollo Lucilfer — ☆

Silva Zoldyck — ☆

Kikyo Zoldyck — ☆

Pakunoda — ☆

Shizuku Murasaki — ☆

Machi Komacine— ☆

Shalnark — ☆

Feitan Portor — ☆

Komugi — ♡

Meruem — ♡

Kite — ☆

Inuyasha:

Sango — ♡

Inuyasha — ♡

Kagome Higurashi — ♡

Miroku — ♡

Shippo — ◇

Sesshomaru — ☆

Naraku — ☆

Kagura — ♡

Koga — ♡

Rin — ◇

Toga — ☆

Sally Face:

Sal Fisher — ♡

Larry Johnson — ♡

Ashley Campbell — ♡

Black Butler:

Sebastian Michaelis — ☆

Grelle Sutcliff — ☆

Ciel Phantomhive — ♤

Vincent Phantomhive — ☆

William T. Spears — ☆

Undertaker — ☆

Ronald Knox — ☆

Othello — ♡

Genshin Impact:

Kaeya — ☆

Noelle — ♡

Amber — ♡

Lisa — ♡

Venti — ♡

Diluc — ♡

Paimon — ◇

Qiqi — ◇

Baizhu — ☆

Wriothesley — ☆

Neuvillete — ☆

Furina — ♡

Zhongli — ☆

Arataki Itto — ☆

Ayato — ☆

Lumine — ♤

Aether — ♤

Cookie Run:

Pitaya Dragon — ♡

Lotus Dragon — ♡

Vampire — ☆

Eclair — ♡

Clover — ☆

Tea Knight — ♡

Pure Vanilla — ☆

Dark Cacao — ☆

HollyBerry — ☆

Golden Cheese — ☆

White Lily — ♡

Sugar Glass — ♡

Crowberry — ♡

Blackberry — ♡

Yogurt Cream — ☆

Lilac — ☆

Plain Yogurt — ☆

Eggnog — ☆

Almond — ☆

Roguefort — ☆

Licorice — ♡

Red Velvet — ☆

Scorpion — ☆

Pomegranate — ☆

Dark Enchantress — ☆

Frost Queen — ☆

Latte — ☆

Ice Captain — ☆

Oyster — ☆

Steven Universe:

Bismuth — ♤

Pearl — ♤

Amethyst — ♤

Spinel — ◇

Lars — ♤

The Owl House:

Luz Noceda — ♤

Camila Noceda — ◇

Amity Blight — ♤

Alador Blight — ♤

Edalyn Clawthorn — ♤

Raine Whispers — ♤

Hunter — ♤

Gus Porter — ♤

Willow Park — ♤

Afk Arena:

Daimon — ◇

Niru — ♤

Shemira — ♤

Lucretia — ♤

Flora — ◇

Arcane:

Vander — ☆

Silco — ☆

Sevika — ☆

Vi — ☆

Jinx — ☆

Ekko — ☆

Viktor — ☆

Jacye — ☆

Mel — ☆

What I will write!!

Fluff

Platonic ships

Ships headcanons

{ Example: Kyojuro x Tengen }

Smut

Suggestive content

Yandere/Mayadere

Specific kinks for specific characters

Angst

Scenario Imagines

Literally any kink that doesn't have to do with bodily fluids { not including cum }

What I will not write

Kinks such as piss, scatt and ddlg, weird kinks in general

Fetishes

Noncon/r@p3 { furthest I'll go is dubcon }

Nsfw for minors

Bnha/mha. never.

Minor x adult, Killer x victim, shit like that

Examples: Kyojuro x Akaza, Giyuu x Tanjiro

I want to add that sometimes things may not come out as often or I'll randomly go inactive, I struggle with motivating myself to do things and I get tired and burnout of things quickly, sometimes to where I won't want to have anything to do with it for months, and I want to go ahead and apologize for that. I'd also like to add that I am aloud to decline requests, wether I feel uncomfortable with the request or if I'm just not going to be able to finish it. That's honestly all I have left to say and shit. Have a good Day and thank you for reading :]

Marv_olo

#hunter x hunter #demon slayer #afk arena #inuyasha #cookie run #steven universe #the owl house #sally face #genshin impact #writers blog #new writer boost #new writter #black butler #arcane #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends

[bwabys-scenarios]

Can we see a chubby!reader who maybe doesn't know that Feitan is part of the phantom troupe, so she doesn't think Feitan can carry her but then he proves her wrong (maybe with a little bit of angst because she's self conscious, and then comfort because Feitan loves that there's more of her)

Idk if that made sense

Perfect

Feitan x Chubby!Fem!Reader

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

A/N: another short one… but I like it!! Join my server !!

warnings: insecure reader, a bit of internalized misogyny

SFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @aliceattheart @atransmuter

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️

You had been dating Feitan for nearly a year now, and you still knew so little about him. His whereabouts while he was out of town were a mystery to you, and you had no idea what he did for work. All you did know was that he didn’t have a normal job.

When you jokingly asked him if he was in the mafia, he scoffed. “Mafia bunch of puss- wimps. Not part of it, not by long shot.”

You were a little perturbed by his answer, but couldn’t help laughing at the way he censored himself for your sake. He seemed to see you as some kind of delicate princess, closer to a porcelain doll than human. Feitan was always extremely gentle when touching you, his hands almost hesitant when making contact with your skin.

This was something you didn’t understand. Throughout your life, people viewed you as bigger, tougher, when in reality you were quite easily hurt, both physically and mentally. The topic of your weight had been a sore subject…

But your Fei wasn’t really good with reading social cues.

“Eat good. Here, for big girl.”

You stared at your boyfriend as he used his chopsticks to drop an extra egg roll on your plate. In your mind, you know he meant nothing by it. He was friends with larger people like Uvogin who ate tons to keep up his strength and figure.

But your heart felt hurt. You pushed your plate away and huffed. “Hmph.”

He was bad about assuming things, even if you knew it Feitan wasn’t being malicious, it still hurt your feelings when he assumed random things because of your body type.

But what you didn’t know, was that Feitan wasn’t assuming anything. You were his girlfriend, he had to provide for you and make sure you ate well. In meteor city, having meat on your bones usually meant you were well taken care of, and all he wanted to do was make sure you ate.

Feitan, though… he wasn’t good at communicating that. Or communicating at all, really, so he just stared as you pushed away the food. He scoffed, slightly offended that you turned down his offer.

“Why huff? Being brat.”

You sniffled, standing up and storming off. Feitan wouldn’t let this slide, he hated seeing you upset.

The dark haired man caught your wrist, squeezing with just enough force to catch your attention. “Why act like this? Made you mad?”

You pouted, puffing out your chubby cheeks. “Mmph… it’s embarrassing. You’re thin and I’m not… aren’t girls supposed to be dainty and small? Isn’t that what you would prefer, someone you could easily pick up?”

You wiped the tears from your eyes, not daring to look back at your lover.

But you didn’t have to look, because he turned you around and began lifting you with ease. Once you were in the air, he held onto your ass, squeezing softly. You squeaked and immediately wrapped your plump thighs around his waist for support, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“See? Easy. My little bunny.”

He held you in his arms, not straining or struggling in the slightest. It was like you weighed nothing at all to him and it was… relieving.

“Can’t understand? You… are mine.”

He huffed, sitting down with you in his lap, his arms wrapped around your waist. “We clear?”

You snuggled him, burying your teary face into his neck. “Yeah…”

Feitan tried to be a bit more sensitive with you after that, and made it a point to carry you around and show you off to his friends. It was a little embarrassing… but you felt loved and beautiful.

And that was all you needed.

#feitan porter x reader #feitan x reader #requests open #x reader #anime x reader #reader insert #hxh x reader #hxh imagines #hunter x hunter x reader #anime x chubby reader #chubby!reader #chubby reader #hxh x y/n #hxh x you #feitan imagine #yandere feitan #plus size reader #fem!reader #female reader #fem reader #fluffy #fluff #fanfiction #hxh feitan

[mamayan]

I’m writing a Yan!Feitan fic rn and tbh my heart is swaying as I rewatch the show.

I don’t see this man as anything but awkward, deranged (not delusional), and mildly violent/sadistic towards his darling.

I don’t see him wanting to torture them… at least not in a traditional sense of his norm. No, he’s an intelligent individual, albeit stunted in the emotional intellect category. This means he’s not just whole heartedly ignorant of his feelings, and I see him falling for a darling he respects. At least in one way of another. He’d be confused why he’s feeling the urge to be closer to his darling, or maybe even frustrated when he’s not quite grasped his own intentions, but he’d be quick to catch on. He’d realize and then he’d act. I see him coming to a swift conclusion.

He’d take his darling 100% right away no questions asked if they were considered physically weak in his mind (so not as strong as someone in the Troupe, but I could see his darling being a Pro-Hunter or something of the sort, but in his mind they’re soft lil weak baby cuz he’s just a monster).

Though, I don’t see him yeeting them into his torture chamber or even belittling them.

Why you may ask?

I believe Feitan is, and this is sorta canon too, a master in psychology (not his own, he’s a busy man, ain’t no one got time for all that). At least in terms of torture/extracting information/and coercion! He’s not suave like Chrollo, but he’s not unaware of what makes a person tick!

He’d certainly not put up a front like other Yanderes, no, he’d be himself. That is probably what makes him terrifying, because even around the people he considers peers… he’s a scary lil man. He’s quick to make his darling bend to his will, and he’d do it perfectly to fit his daring.

Darling is a little spit fire with a good right hook? He’ll force them to their knees before him with his fingers tangled in their hair/around their neck.

Darling literally cries when someone say’s they’re disappointed in them?Feitan will make them sob as he tells them how their behavior/actions is such a nuisance. He’d trigger them immediately.

He’s not doing these things because he wants to punish his darling for no reason. If he wanted to let off steam, he’s got plenty of access and lack of morals to go get whoever strikes a nerve with him and take their skin off. Why would he even bother on his darling?

I do see him making his darling watch his torture sessions, but not as a deterrent lol.

He 1000% wants praise and admiration from his darling. I can even see him mentally expecting applause or something dramatic as he manages to remove all vital organs from the inside of someone and still keeping them alive.

He’s a creep♡

Feitan also strikes me as cat-like. He’d go after an independent darling and then get upset when he’s given attention when he doesn’t want it… and when darling doesn’t give it suddenly wants it.

He’d strip that independence away immediately (unless his darling is fairly powerful in his eyes, I can see him being flexible in areas depending on darling’s feelings towards him).

He’d just awkwardly stand in front of his darling as they read on the couch- just blocking their view… staring down at them. Not speaking.

Awkward man doesn’t know how to initiate. Hoping darling does? He’s not gonna ask, probably won’t talk either.

Anyway just my ramblings. Fic will come lol

#HxH #feitan #feitan porter #ramblings #yandere Feitan #sfw #nothing serious I’m just organizing thoughts

[crossroadsandloudmusic]

SURPRISE SHAWTY @youseebbiggirl

IM BACK AND I BEEN WHIPPING IN THE KITCHEN

I KNOW ITS NOT EXACTLY HOW YOU REQUESTED IT BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT REGARDLESS OF THE LIBERTIES I MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE TAKEN

PLEASE ENJOY AND LET ME KNOW IF YOU HAVE ANYTHING ELSE YOU’D LIKE ME TO WRITE FOR YOU!!!!!

Request are always open!!

Criticism/tips welcome!!!

Warnings: no con, Yandere themes, violent themes, home invasion, kidnapping, assault, sexual assault, torture, abuse, (etc.)

If anything stated above may harm your or your well-being please don’t read❤️

MINORS DNI THIS AINT FOR YALL

Yandere Phantom Troupe reacting to an apathetic darling

Chrollo Lucilfer-

Once Chrollo spots you, he has to have you.

He first saw you walking down the street at night, from that moment he was enamored.

You walked so nonchalantly, you didn’t peer over your shoulder, you didn’t hasten your pace, even when you passed him, Machi, and Nobungana on the sidewalk you didn’t turn and look.

The one who stopped was Chrollo. He stopped to watch you walk away and fade into the darkness.

Soon after this encounter he had Shalnark keep tabs on you. Without much effort on Shalnark’s part, Chrollo found where you lived, where you worked, and how you spent your free time.

Chrollo would then take it upon himself to watch you, he’d oftentimes be found in the lobby of your work just quietly observing, or he’d wait patiently in the alley next to your apartment building. Regardless of where you were, what you were doing or who you were with, Chrollo was always watching. But he wasn’t just watching to see you, he was watching to learn.

He memorized your mannerisms and reactions to different types of stimuli, and each time your reaction was the same.

Quiet, calm, and unmoved. It wasn’t that you lack emotion, instead with everything you faced you reacted as if it were fine.

Chrollo’s first experiment was to see you smile. He wrote the most heart warming poem that he could have ever written along with the most glorious bouquet of flowers, he had these delivered to work from a “secret admirer”.

When you arrived at work you saw the lavish gift waiting for you at your desk, he saw you walk over and admire the bouquet. You examined the flowers closely and held them gently. You leaned in to smell them and that’s when you noticed the poem. You retrieved the letter and opened it. As you read line for line your expression never changed. After you read the letter you folded it up and placed it in your pocket and then turned your attention back to your flowers. That evening he saw you take them home and you cared for them as if you had grown them yourself. He took this reaction, or lack thereof, as you were pleased by the gesture.

Next he wanted to see if he could make you angry. Before you had woken up that morning, he snuck into your home. First he cut the power so that your alarm clock wouldn’t wake you up when it was time, then he hid your phone and wallet, next he unscrewed one side of your door knobs so when you were to finally leave you would have to screw them back in, before he finished he made his way back into your room and found your headphones. He decided to keep these for himself, it would be a momento from his little experiment. That morning you awoke 45 minutes after you should have been at work, you looked around you and found that your power was out. As a result you rose out of bed and began searching for your phone, 20 minutes later you spotted it in one of your kitchen cabinets. You shrugged your shoulders and got dressed. It was only before you walked through the door you realized that you indeed were still missing your wallet and headphones. After a quick search you found your wallet but your headphones were nowhere to be found. Again you shrugged your shoulders and headed for the door. As you twisted the knob and pulled the door to open it, the knob split into a bundle of screws, bolts, and metal parts. Chrollo knew this had to get a reaction out of you, and to his surprise you simply put the knob back together, locked the door behind you as you left and made your way to work.

As he studied you he came to the conclusion to perform one final experiment the one of the most intense emotions of all. Fear.

For several months Chrollo waited for the perfect moment and finally that moment came.

Being that you had worked quite a bit of overtime, your manager thought it best you take a long weekend. So that Friday evening after clocking out you made your way back to your home to enjoy your off time. Little did you know back at your home, seated on your couch, was Chrollo.

He had made himself comfortable not too long before you got off work and he had every intention of staying put till you walked in.

He tracked your movements all the way till you made it to your door, he knew exactly how long it took you to walk from work to your home down to the second.

And as that last second approached you rounded to the top of the stairwell and approached your door.

Chrollo heard your footsteps from the stairwell, and then a few seconds later he heard your keys jingle. Then the key slid into the slot and as you turned it he could hear the blots unlatch and the door was opened.

As you walked into your home you saw a young man sitting on your couch with a book in hand. His hair was dark slicked back, a cross tattooed in the middle of his forehead. You wondered what the meaning behind such a tattoo was. His skin was pale compared to the dark clothing he adorned.

‘That’s a particularly outrageous outfit to wear to a breaking and entering’ you thought to yourself as you walked in to get a better look at him. You set your purse on the floor and approached him, only then did he close his book and acknowledge you.

“Good evening, (Y/n).” He said as he stood up and extended his hand. Any other person would be trembling in fear and fleeing from their home, instead you took his hand. Chrollo bowed and placed a small kiss on your knuckles before letting go.

You watched him and your expression never once changed, Chrollo noticed even your heart rate hadn’t changed. In fact it didn’t change at all, even when you slept your heart rate stayed the same consistent pace.

This thoroughly excited Chrollo, you truly were something special.

“Who are you?” You asked Chrollo, to which he smiled and said,

“My name is Chrollo Lucilfer, and I’m here to take you.” He said with a slight smile on his lips.

“Hm...to take me where?” You replied.

“You will be by my side until the end of time, of course. I’m here to take you to be my partner. Resisting is futile, I am one of the most powerful nen users there are.” He replied as he continued to stare at you.

You thought for a second before saying

“I see...Before we leave, can I get some of my belongings?”

Chrollo’s heart leapt from his chest, your overall indifference to this situation made his body tingle. You were surely made for him.

Chrollo obliged and together you packed what you could in your suitcase.

The two of you walked out your door and down the stairs and into the darkness of the street.

As you walked down the sidewalk, your arms interlocked, you glanced down and a sight caught your eye.

A blue earbud hung out of a pocket in his large overcoat.

“Hey, aren’t those my headphones?” You asked as you stopped and pointed towards his pocket.

“Hm? Oh, yes, they are. I took them from you one day while I visited your home.” He said.

“Hmm, that explains quite a bit.” You said, Chrollo laughed quietly and then the two of you were off once again.

————————————————————————-

Nobunaga Hazama-

Nobungana found you while on a mission, he had been sent to survey an area in preparation for a heist that was to happen at a local bank.

This particular bank had recently opened an “exclusive” account for one of their mafia customers. This account included large sums of interest, no fees, no holds, no background checks, no most wanted checks, and certainly no moderation. Most of all, something the bank was more than pleased to have, all this customer's money was to be backed with cash. Therefore, even if the lucrative customers had over a trillion Jenny in their account, the bank had to have that amount in physical currency. This bank was the perfect place for the troupe to rob.

Nobungana strolled through the park before he was ordered to go inside the bank and get a good look at the security measures.

Inside you worked the teller line and helped customer after customer, being that it was a Friday and very large bank you had no choice but to be overly busy. One after one, cashed checks, deposited payrolls, helped file disputes, and answered any questions they had.

Nobungana took mental notes of every exit, alarm buttons (although the police would not be a problem), the vault, and more importantly the employees. The other girls that worked beside you were fried and frazzled from the constant barrage of customers, but you had caught his eye. You worked diligently and your expression never changed. Even when customers screamed and berated you, you remained indifferent and helped them to the best of your ability. You were intriguing to Nobungana to say the least. He wanted to get a better look at you so before he left he made his way behind the man you were helping, as he approached he could hear the man's vulgar language thrown towards you.

“I’d like nothing more than to rip that tight little skirt off you. Give me your number so we can talk about this in detail, huh?” The man said as leaned himself against your desk, you finished his transaction and handed him a receipt.

“Employees are not allowed to have relationships with customers, nor are we allowed to give out sensitive information such as: our IDs, place of residence, phone numbers, and account numbers. Thank you, have a good day.” You said as you stared at the man. He scoffed and mumbled the words,

“Stuck up, bitch.” As he walked towards the main exit.

Next Nobungana approached your desk, he kept a mental note of the man.

“How can I help you, today?” You asked as you looked at Nobungana.

You were far more attractive up close, Nobungana thought to himself. He could feel himself beginning to get nervous as he started to sweat. The way you looked at him caused him to almost lose his composure. Your eyes were hard but yet calm, your posture was perfect but you were comfortable, your voice unwavering and forgiving. You were the perfect mix of a raging sea and a calm breeze. Something so powerful, yet you exhibited a feeling of content.

You were ‘Perfect.’ He thought to himself.

He hadn’t realized how long the two of you were staring at one another till you asked again,

“How can I help you, today?”

Nobungana broke out of his trance and mumbled something along the lines of,

“How do I open an account?”

To which you pulled out two sheets of paper and pamphlet.

“First I’ll need you to fill out these papers, read over the pamphlet and if you have any questions I’ll answer them for you. Next I’ll need two forms of identification and a 1,000 Jenny deposit.” You said as you handed him the papers. He took them and said thank you as a bead of sweat fell from his temple.

Nobungana left the bank and when he made it out the doors he could finally breathe. He found an empty park bench and tried to recover from the interaction, you had only spoken to him and you almost rendered him catatonic. In his mind he knew he had to see you again, but then a very troubling thought came to mind.

You and the rest of the employees would be killed during the heist.

He could not allow that. He couldn’t let you just end up as another person on a missing poster.

He doubted that you would come willingly, but you would be his. And maybe you would learn to love him.

That evening when the troupe gathered once again, Nobungana asked Chrollo if he would be able to take one of the employees. This piqued Chrollo’s interest and asked him to elaborate.

“There’s this person...they’re different, special. I felt something about them I’ve never felt for anyone else. I’d like to take them with me.” Nobungana confessed. Several troupe members said he couldn’t possibly take them with him, it could let sensitive information about the spiders get out. Some scoffed at his sudden sappiness towards this person he had only met one time. But several didn’t seem to mind, Uvogin spoke up and said that as long as he kept a tight leash on them he didn’t care. He knew Nobungana would be able to handle a darling.

With careful thought, Chrollo allowed it and he even stated he would like to meet this person.

Nobungana was ecstatic. Over the next couple weeks, he was kind to everyone, he rarely snapped, and was always smiling. This had given everyone the creeps because Nobungana rarely smiled.

When Feitan splashed blood on him: that’s ok!

When Uvogin almost crushed him: I’m fine!

Everyone took notice of Nobungana’s new attitude.

As the days approached towards the heist he became even more so excited.

The evening of the heist, every one of the troupe members donned disguises. Nobungana wore a tailored suit.

Nobungana, Shizuku, Franklin, and Machi all walked through the bank's front doors. Much to Nobungana’s delight, you sat where you had several weeks before.

Your manager spotted the four and assumed they were there to speak to a loan officer or her boss about business. She had been very wrong.

She walked up and shook the hand of every one of them.

“How can I help you? Are you here to speak with a loan officer?” She asked while smiling brightly.

“No, where aren’t.” Said Franklin. And as soon as he did, Shalnark shut down the electricity and all signals to the building.

The lobby was pitch black except for the street lights outside. Suddenly a bright burst of lights followed by the sound of spraying gunfire filled the room. You only saw a fraction of a second of the scene before you were swept out of your chair. A figure carried you away from lobby bridal style. They only stopped when they carried you into a back room and closed the door.

“Are you alright?” The strange person asked.

“Yes.” You replied.

The person flipped on the lights and you were met with a customer you had helped not too long ago.

The same tall man with dark hair who inquired about an account.

“I’m going to tie you up, and you will sit here until we are done, ok?” He said as he began to tie your hands behind your back. You nodded in reply and willingly let him continue.

Nobungana could hardly contain himself seeing you all tied together. What was even more enticing was that you sat calm and how the situation didn’t seem to be an inconvenience to you. Your heart rate never rose and your cool expression never faltered.

He couldn’t hold himself back any longer, before he left you in the room to return back to the troupe, he dropped to his knees before you and pressed his lips harshly against yours. His hands held your neck as he kissed you passionately. You didn’t seem to mind this either, so Nobungana pushed it a little farther.

His tongue parted your lips and snuck its way inside. He knew if he continued he would never leave you. As he kissed you a little longer his hands wandered up and down your body.

With all the willpower he could muster he pulled himself away from you. He pulled away gasping and a sizable tent in his pants. He composed himself and before he left he turned to you and said,

“Be good, I’ll be back soon.”

————————————————————————-

Feitan Portor-

This was unfortunate. Very unfortunate indeed.

The only person a part of the phantom troupe that took prisoners was Feitan, and his prisoners would only end up as victims. Victims of his terrible torture, and it would not be a swift end. Feitan would keep you alive for days on end till he finally granted you sweet relief of death.

You knew this, you knew that this would be how you passed from this life to the other. Yet all you could think as you sat in the corner of a steel room was,

‘This was unfortunate.’

You could hear the muffled howls of pain down the hall, his chamber was only a couple yards away. The sounds of screams were different, deeper, it was a different voice than the one he had brutalized the past couple of days. You didn’t know how many others were ahead of you, couldn’t possibly be many now.

As each person screamed and wailed on end for days, they would eventually lose their voices, or he had cut their vocal cords. Whichever it may be, the hall would once again go quiet till he chose another.

You wondered how long you had been in your cell. Three? Four days now? Given how weak you were and how utterly parched you were, yet still not dead, it had to have been within the week. In that time you had not seen a single person. It was entirely just yourself and your own thoughts in the pitch blackness of the cell. The only stimuli you had was that of Feitan’s very light footsteps and the sound of anguish.

Just as suddenly as they had started the sounds of screams stopped, then a large door was closed and once again the sounds of your captor’s footsteps.

“One, two, one, two, one, two, one…” you counted his footsteps internally. You knew it took him exactly 18 steps til the sound of his walking faded. But today he walked seven. His seventh step placed him in front of your cell or somewhere close by. You sat and struggled to pick up the slightest sound.

The jarring screech of the steel door made your ears ring, you had been right. Once Feitan had opened the door fully, you could hear him approach you. He stopped three inches in front of your feet. Or at least you guessed he did.

His breathing was soft, and the smell of blood reeked. You looked to where the sound was heard and a painful blow landed across your face.

You truly were an enigma. Feitan had taken you and several others during the last heist. When he did he received pleads, begs, curses, sobs, and screams, yet you remained silent. Even when he left you alone to starve, in the dark, with arms and legs tied tightly, you remained silent. Not a single tear, or whimper. Not even a groan when he hit you. Instead you sat quietly and remained neutral. You were driving Feitan wild. So much he had accidentally killed two of his victims too soon, because he was obsessed with you. He had to figure you out, and he would stop at nothing to fulfill his goal.

A strong hand wrapped around your tricep and ripped you off the floor, you wobbled unsteady as your legs weak from lack of nutrition. Feitan held you up right as he cut the rope around your ankles.

“Walk.” Was all he said as he began to pull you alongside him.

As you tried to keep your balance you instinctively grabbed a hold of Feitan for support. He stopped and you could feel his eyes burning a hole in your skin. Unlike yours his blood began to surge through his veins, your first thought was that you had angered him. But a violent shove or a harsh blow never came instead he stood silent. He began his pace again, letting you hang on to him. You counted the steps and you were sure you had arrived at his chamber of destruction. The smell of iron and innards burned your nostrils, again the sound of metal scraping across concrete screamed in your ears. Feitan led you once more before sitting you on a wooden chair equipped with leather straps and harnesses.

From outside the cell a weak voice whispered,

“Have mercy.” The voice echoed through your mind.

Mercy.

You would not find mercy here.

Feitan quickly tightened the straps around your arms, waist, and legs. You were starting to become used to the feeling of being so heavily restrained.

Feitan’s hands left you and you thought that your last few days on this earth were about to begin. You waited patiently for the cutting of your skin or the spilling of your blood, but instead all you were met with was the soft breaths of Feitan. You waited for hours and not a single assault came. Your eyes wandered through the dark but a figure could not be spotted, yet his steady breathing was still present.

Without warning Feitan approached you and a cloth slipped over your eyes. Then Feitan made his way away from you and down the hall.

“One, two, one, two, one, two…”

Several minutes later two sets of footsteps could head walking down the hall and towards you, one set was Feitan’s while another was someone you haven't heard before.

Once both people filled the room you heard the click of a light switch. Although you couldn’t see because of the blindfold you knew that Feitan and the other unidentified person stood beside him in front of you.

“This is the one?” The other one asked.

Feitan hummed in response.

“She doesn’t talk?” Asked the voice again.

“No…she speaks when asked questions and told to.” Said Feitan, his voice cold and steady.

“What's the deal? Why is this one different?” Ask the voice a hint of irritation in the young man's voice.

“Watch…” was all Feitan said before he landed another slap across your face. The hit was painful and stung the skin of your exposed cheek, but not even a groan escaped your lips

“Check her pulse.” Feitan said to the other person.

Then two fingertips pressed into the side of your neck and stayed there for a short while before retracting.

“I see what you mean! They barely have a pulse, not to mention they didn’t even cry when you hit them. They are different indeed.” Exclaimed the voice.

After a short conversation, the two left once more, before walking completely out of earshot feitan mumbled the following words,

“I’m going to keep them.”

Feitan returned a short while later and removed your blindfold. He wore a black tunic and a bandana across his mouth. His wild black hair appeared like ink against his pale skin.

He bent down and inspected the shirt you had on, covered in blood and filth since your kidnapping.

In a flash he split your shirt down the middle exposing your chest. Your eyes never once looked away from him.

“I’m going to carve my name into your chest, I want to see your true potential.” Feitan mumbled as his sharp nails grazed your skin.

A searing pain spread across your chest as one of his nails broke the skin and plunged deep into your flesh. Although it was burning and tearing, your body did not react. You sat still, not flinching or wincing at the pain. Your heart and face remained the same as if you were peacefully sitting anywhere but here. Feitan watched you carefully as he continued, the way you remained unbothered excited him so.

You could see a crazed smile spread on his lips as he finished his first initial. His fingers covered in your blood, he stuck both in his mouth to lick them clean. He then once again plunged his fingers in your chest.

After he was done, a bloody and leaking “F.P” was carved into your skin. He smiled and cackled as he observed his handiwork.

He released you from the chair and guided you from the prison up into the higher level of the building. There you faced many different people some of which you recognized from your kidnapping. Feitan led you through the crowd till you were in front of another pale, taller man that adorned a cross tattoo on his forehead.

“I’m keeping this one.” Feitan spoke up. The man looked up from his book and smiled.

“This is the one I’ve heard about.” He said joyfully.

“They’re pretty, Feitan. Don’t do anything to their face.” The man said before returning to his reading. Feitan grabbed your arm and led you back through the group of people into a long hall. At the end was a door, Feitan opened the door, and walked both of you inside.

On the floor lay a mattress with a singular pillow.

“Lay down.” Feitan commanded as he removed the remnants of your shirt, leaving you naked from the waist up. You did as you were told and laid down on the bed.

In your peripheral vision, you saw Feitan remove most of his garments. After he stripped himself of everything but his underwear he came and laid himself behind you.

That night while he pressed his cold chest to your back, he carved intricate patterns into your skin with his nails all the while he chanted that you were his forever, until the end of time.

————————————————————————-

Uvogin-

Your capture by Uvogin was a blur.

He saw you, he liked you, he took you. That was just how Uvogin was.

The day had been like any other day, you went to work that morning and stayed until late in the evening. And when work had finished you grabbed your belongings and made your way back home. The walk home was long and dark but you never minded as it was a quiet end to an otherwise horrendous day.

As you strolled down the lonesome sidewalk, you could hear whispers of conversation being carried by the wind. Continuing your trek a feeling of being watched entered your senses, above you on a nearby building you were being observed.

“See right there! That’s the one I was telling you about earlier.” Uvogin said excitedly as he pointed down to you.

Nobungana walked towards the edge and spotted you as you carelessly walked below.

“Oh, that’s the one?” Nobungana asked.

Uvogin smiled and sighed as he continued to watch.

You turned the corner and down the street out of view.

“Hey you got everything covered up here, right?” Uvogin asked as he stood on the concrete edge, before Nobungana could answer Uvogin leapt to the street below.

Nobungana scoffed and mumbled his annoyance at having to continue the night watch alone.

Uvogin waved up to Nobungana from the ground and held up his thumb,

“I’ll be back in a bit.” He said as he walked down the same sidewalk you had gone only moments before.

At the door of your apartment you jingled with your keys to find your house key. Struggling to find the right key you scratched your head and studied them closer.

Unbeknownst to you Uvogin stood behind you propped against a tree for support. He watched you struggle and couldn't help but silently chuckle. How cute you are! Can’t even find your own house key in the dark. Truly helpless really. You're lucky it was him that found you and not someone else.

Finally you found your key and just as you were about to unlock your front door, a massive arm wrapped around your waist and ripped you from the ground. Instantly you were being held bridal style by the most hulking man you had ever seen. He was massive, muscles covered every inch of his body. His skin is a dark tan and covered in dark brown hair. You looked up at the man and he smiled down at you with the whitest of teeth. He had sharp features with an unruly mane and sideburns.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The man asked.

“I was going inside.” You said in a matter-of-fact tone, Uvogin laughed deeply.

“You’re cute. Scream and fight all you want but I’m taking you with me. You're never gonna escape me.” The man, now captor said as he threw you over his shoulder and smacked your backside.

“Oh, you're kidnapping me?” You asked him.

“More or less.” He replied as he turned and walked away from your home.

“Okay.” You replied flatly.

“Okay? Hold on-You’re okay with me kidnapping you?” Uvogin asked. He had stopped walking, your response confused him.

“Yes, I suppose.” You replied, still hanging over his shoulder.

Uvogin laughed triumphantly before smacking your ass once again.

“Me and you are going to have a lot of fun!” He cheered.

A little while later, you and Uvogin both made your way to the roof where Nobungana sat waiting with his arms crossed.

Before Nobungana could give Uvogin a piece of his mind, Uvogin set you down on the ground.

Nobungana noticed how you didn’t seem to be minding this situation, and a puzzled look came upon his face.

“I already know what you are going to say-and I’m just as surprised as you are. They just came with me! No screaming, no crying. Just completely fine with the situation. I think they are always like that.” Uvogin said as he took a seat on the ground, he reached and pulled you by the waist into his lap. You seemed completely unbothered as Uvogin held you.

Nobungana was shocked, he stared at the two of you in disbelief.

“What?! You just went with him? He said he was going to kidnap you and you made it easier for him?!” Nobungana was appalled by this whole situation.

“Yeah, then he picked me up.” You said staring up at the beautiful night sky.

“Hey don’t be upset, maybe there’s a girl out there that’ll want to be taken by you too!” Uvogin said as he cuddled you closer.

Nobungana threw his hands up in frustration and said,

“This is ridiculous! I’m going for a walk!”

For the rest of the night you and Uvogin sat on top of that building talking and being close with one another.

The stars speckled the sky, and the moon hung high above it all.

#phantom troupe request #phantom troupe headcanons #phantom troupe x reader #phantom troupe hxh #feitan x y/n #feitan x reader #feitan porter x reader #chrollo headcanons #chrollo x y/n #chrollo x reader #nobunaga x reader #nobunaga hazama #yandere nobunaga #yandere uvogin #uvogin x reader #Uvogin

[jujutsukgojo]

Master list

Some of the masterlist will take you to AO3 and some on tumblr. Some of these are a WIP that has yet to come out.

my tumblr and AO3 are the only accounts i have!

*-means favorites or the ones i'm most proud of

DO NOT PLAGIARIZE

Rules/about me

BNHA

Bakugo x Jirou

Jukebox (Fluff)

Shouto:

What once was mine (Fluff and angst)

Champion of Kings (Angst) (Sequel to What once was mine)

The Less You Know, The Better (Mob Shouto)

Heat of the Island Chapter One, Chapter two , Chapter three , Chapter Four

Fuyumi:

Blinded (Fuyumi & Shigaraki)

Dabi:

Blue Fire (Yandere)

Kaminari x Momo

It was that night (Fluff) *

Izuku:

Heat of the Island Chapter One, Chapter two , Chapter three, Chapter four

Shigaraki:

Prayed for the lambs (Angst) *

Prayed For the lambs chapter 2 (WIP)

All for one:

How all for one came to be (origin story) (Angst) *

Spinner:

Country Gecko (Angst, origin story) (Villains won the war)

Shinso x Ashido

Coffee Stain ( Fluff)

Mr. Compress

Magic Man (Angst, origin story)

Jujutsu Kaisen:

Sukuna:

Sukuna chap 1, 2, 3 (origin story, x reader) (Angst) *

Halloween Night (Sukuna, Yuuji & reader) (Horror)

The boy in art (gangster Sukuna x reader)

pt 2 The boy on the throne (angst, slight gore)

Yuuji:

Sweet Moments (fluff, slight angst, high school au)

Gojo:

TO BE TITLED (Modern High school au, WIP, multi ship, angst & fluff)

Valentines Day (Modern College Au, sequel to High School au, gojo x reader, fluff tiny angst)

The Bell Tolls for Me (angst)

From The Tree (slight angst)

HXH:

Chrollo:

The Fourth Leg (Yandere Chrollo, angst) *

Feitan:

My gifts to you (fluff, light angst, slight yandere(?)

#masterlist #bakugo x jirou #shouto x reader #spinner x reader #all for one #afo #shigaraki x reader #momo yaoyaruzo x kaminari denki #yuuji itadori x reader #sukuna #shinsou x ashido #sukuna ryoumen #sukuna x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer #shouto todoroki x reader #fanfics #feitan porter x reader #chrollo x reader