𝐌𝐲 𝐔𝐧𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 | 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 [𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭/𝐋𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧]
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･
𝑷𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅: 06/24/2026
𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 5.5k
𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: Hello everyone!! Introducing my newest yandere fic over here, featuring for the very first time: Feitan Portor!! (thanks to a literal flood of requests, lool). Man… I confess it was SO challenging to write for him, studying his character, and writing and deleting every single paragraph to make sure it fit his persona. The best idea I had was to make it a Smut (to make you guys happy, lol). Yes, what I wrote is absurdly disturbing, but it's the best way I found to get as close to his canon self as possible—you can't really expect a loving, sweet yandere Feitan… Happy reading, everyone!! :-)
𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Dark/Yandere themes, Heavy angst, Extreme psychological trauma, Non-consensual sexual content (Non-con), Brutal physical torture/Amputation, Degradation/Dirty talk, Breath control/Oxygen deprivation (Nen-induced), Dubious/Forced pleasure, Blood/Biting, Severe stockholm syndrome elements, Forced containment/Kidnapping, Obsessive/Psychopathic behavior, Possessive Feitan, Dead dove do not eat elements.
𝑨𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: This fanfiction contains extremely dark, toxic, and non-consensual themes that are intended strictly for mature audiences. The relationship and actions depicted here are entirely abusive, manipulative, and psychopathic; they should never be romanticized, normalized, or idealized in real life. Fiction is a safe space to explore dark themes, but please read with caution and prioritize your mental well-being. If you are sensitive to extreme non-con or graphic violence, please skip this fic.
POV: (Y/N)
The concrete ceiling leaks water constantly, a rhythmic dripping that hits the floor next to my bare feet. How long have i been here? Two days, five days, ten... maybe weeks have passed. I lost track of time. The cycle of darkness and light does not exist in this hole.
I open my trembling eyes slowly. My vision fails, blinks, and focuses little by little, blurry, as if I were waking up from a deep coma. The scenery around me is a ruin of cement and leaks. I am in a underground basement, somewhere on the edges of Yorknew. My arms are stretched upward, suspended by solid iron chains attached to a steel beam on the ceiling. The metal links creak with every small spasm of my body, digging into my wrists, which have already lost sensitivity due to the lack of circulation. The weight of my own body pulls my shoulders down, a continuous, latent pain that has settled into my muscles.
— Tsk... another day... Looks like I'm not just in a nightmare, let alone already dead — I think.
My own mental voice sounds weak. I feel my mouth dry, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth from severe dehydration. The air I pull into my lungs is freezing, dense with the smell of mold and oxidized iron. When I try to move my head, the skin of my lower lip pulls and cracks; the blood there has dried and clotted, forming a hard crust, a small stone of dried plasma that breaks and starts bleeding slightly again.
I look down, inspecting what is left of my clothes. I am wearing only a black cotton tank top, slightly torn, soiled by the dust on the floor and stained with dried fluids. There are no pants to cover me. The dark jeans I wore on the day of my capture were cut into strips days ago, used by my captor to staunch the larger bleeds and prevent me from dying of hemorrhage ahead of time, leaving my legs completely bare and exposed to the biting cold of the concrete. There are no shoes.
I visualize my body in the dim light. There are purple and greenish bruises everywhere, covering my thighs and ribs. Deep scratches cover my skin, flanked by still-open wounds from previous tortures that ooze a clear fluid. My hair is matted, glued to my forehead by dried blood. Below my ankles, the view is even darker: two toes are missing from my left foot. The cuts are clean, surgical, made at the joint. The sharp pain of the amputation has already passed, giving way to a phantom, numb throbbing that shoots up my calf.
My brain, exhausted, forces me to remember how I got here. Flashbacks invade my mind.
I was one of the best informants for the Community Mafia. My pain threshold was always bizarrely high, a trait that made me legendary in the Yorknew underworld. Other factions had already tried to extract information from me in the past using brutal methods; they all failed. I kept the secrets until the end. But the Mafia did not protect me when the Phantom Troupe — the Genei Ryodan — decided to act. During the underground auction, there was a massive leak of confidential information. I was in the wrong place, with the wrong data. I was hunted down and captured like an animal by those monsters with spiders tattooed on their skin.
After the capture, I was thrown into this basement. The other members of the Troupe went up the stairs and left only one man in charge of extracting the security codes from me: Feitan.
The first interrogation session emerges sharp in my memory. The environment was exactly like this, suffocating. Feitan approached without haste, his black high collar covering half of his face, revealing only his gray, narrow eyes. He brought long metal needles and thin scalpel blades. I remember perfectly the cold metal piercing the flesh beneath my fingernails, the sound of my muscle fibers giving way. But I did not scream. I did not beg for mercy. Through my bloody hair matted to my face, I fixed my eyes directly on his. I maintained a defiant silence, holding his gaze with the coldness of someone who has already accepted death.
That was when everything changed. Feitan froze. His eyes narrowed even further and the corners of his mouth turned up, forming a small, sharp, cold smile.
My reaction broke his pattern. Most Mafia victims cried, screamed at the first piercings, or passed out quickly from pure terror, which irritated Feitan, depriving him of the pleasure of prolonging his prey's suffering. With me, it was different. My cold resistance stoked the extreme sadism of the Ryodan's scorpion. He realized I was not disposable. Instead of finishing the job, Feitan prolonged the interrogation on purpose, extracting the pain millimeter by millimeter, testing how far my willpower could go. I had become the perfect toy to satiate his extreme sadism.
From that day on, his obsession developed in a morbid way. Feitan went up the stairs and openly lied to the Phantom Troupe. He told Phinks and the others that I was resisting the codes and that the interrogation was not over yet, claiming that my skill and information were too valuable for me to be discarded.
Since then, he started visiting me every night, alone. The violent physical torture sessions decreased in pace, being replaced by a different dynamic, a silent and suffocating vigilance. He would enter the basement, approach my suspended body, and clean my wounds with damp cloths. There was a cutting rawness in his every move, a precision that mimicked affection but maintained the implicit threat. He would bring food scraps and shove them into my mouth, forcing me to chew and swallow to keep me alive.
While doing this, Feitan would release his Ren. His aura expanded through the abandoned basement, a heavy, dense Nen, loaded with pure murderous intent that crushed the air in the room and tested the limits of my mental stability. He wanted me locked up there. He realized he did not want to share my resistance with anyone else, hiding me from the rest of the world and from the Ryodan itself. I had become his exclusive unbreakable piece.
Back in the present, I feel the links of the chains vibrating up above. A faint, involuntary smile appears on my cracked lips with these memories. Physical exhaustion wins over my consciousness. I let out a low groan as the pain in my wrists starts again, and the darkness pulls me down once more, making me pass out in the silence of the basement.
POV: Feitan
The metallic sound of the chains ceased when (Y/n)'s body hung completely limp, unconscious.
The heavy door at the top of the stone staircase creaked. Light, almost inaudible footsteps descended the steps. Feitan Portor entered the basement. He wore his usual black overcoat and the high collar with the skull print pulled up to his nose. His gray eyes immediately fixed on the suspended figure in the center of the room.
He stopped a few paces away. He observed the torn black tank top, the bare legs, and the wounds caused by the needles he himself had wielded days ago. No other mafia victim had lasted this long under his methods. That realization stoked his sadism. When Phinks had asked upstairs if the Yorknew security codes had been extracted yet, Feitan had lied without hesitation. He said she was still resisting and that he needed more time.
He had no intention of sharing control of that woman with the Ryodan. She was strong. An unbreakable piece that belonged strictly to his basement.
Feitan extended his calloused hand and gripped (Y/n)'s chin, lifting her passed-out face. His thumb pressed against her split lip, breaking the crust of dried blood. He felt no pity for the dehydration or the toes he had severed from her left foot. He felt possession.
Pulling his high collar aside to reveal the slender, sadistic smirk on his lips, he let out a short, nasal laugh. It was time to wake her up. He wanted to see those cold, defiant eyes fixed on his again.
— Wake... Wake up... — he said, his voice husky and cold. It was a raspy sound, dragged by his accent, but it carried a low and dangerously intimate cadence, a dark whisper that sent shivers down the spine.
(Y/n) raised her face slowly. Her arms, numb from time, remained suspended by the short chains attached to the wall. His black overcoat was open, revealing the high collar with the skull pattern slightly pulled down, exposing his sharp jaw and the gray eyes that gleamed with a dangerous intent in the dim light. He uttered no formal threat; his silence was more torturous than any warning.
He approached with the slowness of a predator that knows its prey has nowhere to run. His calloused hand, cold from the metal of his weapons, slid up (Y/n)'s neck. His thumb pressed against her carotid artery hard enough to make her gasp, allowing him to feel the rapid, frantic pulsing of her heart against his own skin.
— Aah... looks like the iron doll still has some wind in her... Hasn't broken yet... — he whispered, his voice drawn out and cutting. — I like that.
He let out a short laugh, a purely nasal, muffled sound that vibrated against his chest—a sadistic "Heh", genuinely amused by the fact that she was still alive and resisting.
(Y/n) kept her face raised and her cold gaze fixed on Feitan, never looking away for even a second, though a low, muffled groan escaped her lips due to the pressure on her neck.
— Tsk... — (Y/n) forced her dry voice out, holding his gaze. — Is that all... the Ryodan's torturer can do? You're going to have to try harder if you want to see me beg.
Feitan's gray eyes dilated slightly at the audacity of her response. Her defiance was the perfect fuel. He leaned his face forward, his freezing breath hitting her cheek, relishing the mixture of pain and stubbornness emanating from this woman.
— You talk too much for someone bound by chains — he murmured, his thumb moving up to trace her jawline with cruel slowness. — But I like that. Only today... I want to hear you make a different kind of sound.
⚠️ [ NSFW / LEMON EXTREME NON-CON WARNING ] ⚠️
With a violent, precise movement, Feitan's hands gripped (Y/n)'s torn tank top, ripping the fabric from top to bottom without an ounce of gentleness. The fabric gave way with a sharp snap. Her body was left completely exposed to the freezing air of the basement, her skin goosebumps instantly, marked by old bruises he himself had caused—bruises Feitan now inspected with a purely proprietary gaze, like a collector admiring his most precious and destructive work of art.
— Ahg..! — The air escaped (Y/n)'s lungs in a sudden gasp. The impact of the freezing wind against her chest and the violent snap of the fabric caught her off guard, causing her teeth to chatter as she tried to catch her breath under the scrutiny of those cold eyes.
Feitan released his aura. His Ren expanded through the room, dense, heavy, and tinged with a bloodlust so overwhelming that it acted like a physical weight on the (y/n)’s shoulders, forcing her legs to give out, leaving her entirely dependent on the chains holding her wrists. He used his Nen to subjugate not just her body, but the (y/n)'s very ability to breathe, turning the space into a claustrophobic vacuum where only he existed.
Kneeling between her legs, Feitan grabbed her thighs with firm fingers, digging his nails into her soft skin, forcing her to open up completely for him.
— Hmm... What a cute little pussy... One of the only parts of your body I haven't played with yet... Just waiting for the right moment to break it — he said through chuckles, letting out a rough, broken laugh—a dry "Kk... heh..." that echoed off the stone walls. Feitan touched (Y/n)'s private area in a calm manner, his fingers moving in slow, firm circles, pressing down as if giving a calculated massage—a bizarre, unsettling contrast to his usual aggressiveness. He fixed his gaze right there, mentally visualizing the grotesque mutilations and cuts he could inflict upon flesh so sensitive. — Tell me, (Y/n)... wouldn't it be terrible if something horrible happened to it? — he concluded, letting out thin, sadistic giggles.
His words hit (Y/n) like a bucket of ice water. For the first time, her mask of coldness cracked, replaced by an instinctive panic that made her body tense against the chains. The extreme vulnerability of that area and the implicit promise of irreparable pain triggered her survival instinct.
— Urgh... n-no... no... DON'T YOU DARE!!! — her voice failed her, sharp with pure terror.
— Shut up. I decide what happens here — Feitan hissed. Before she could scream again, he delivered a sharp slap against the inside of (Y/n)'s right thigh, leaving an immediate red mark on the sensitive skin. — Next time you raise your voice, I grab the scalpel. Now stay still and let me taste.
Giving her no time to react, Feitan moved in. He was in no rush to give pleasure; his approach was purely exploratory and sadistic. Pulling her head slightly downward by her hip, he pressed his lips against (Y/n)'s intimacy. His tongue, rough and firm, began to trace her labia majora with heavy pressure, moving upward deliberately in a straight line toward her clitoris. When he reached the most sensitive spot, he used no gentleness; he pressed the tip of his tongue hard against it, swirling it aggressively, testing her body's involuntary spasms.
He sucked her labia minora forcefully, nipping the flesh lightly between his teeth—just enough to cause a sharp nip of pain mixed with the intense stimulation, dragging saliva down the damp slit to the entrance of her vagina.
— Hmm... savory — he murmured against her skin, his voice muffled by the wetness. Feitan continued to eat her out with the same implacable rhythm, his tongue thrusting into the narrow entrance before returning to strike her clitoris with quick, technical movements, savoring the physical reactions she couldn't hide.
For (Y/n), the sensation was an overwhelming physical and psychological torture. The intensely focused stimulation generated waves of heat that crashed directly into his oppressive Ren and the pain of her bruises. She gritted her teeth, trying to hold back her whimpers, but her body responded against her will; her intimacy twitched spasmodically around his tongue, a mixture of forced pleasure and humiliation that left her completely defenseless.
Feitan, noticing the moisture pooling, separated his lips from her flesh for a brief second. With a swift movement, he shoved his index finger deep into the tight canal, tearing a painful gasp from her. Without any prior lubrication other than her own saliva, his finger thrust roughly into her, immediately followed by his middle finger, stretching the entrance wide while his mouth clamped back down onto her clitoris, sucking her with redoubled force.
(Y/n)'s spasms became frantic. Bound by the chains, she arched her back and tried to focus her gaze on the ceiling, but the double invasion — the fingers thrusting into her dry canal and the merciless suction on her clitoris — battered against her mind like physical blows. Involuntary tears streamed from the corners of her eyes due to the stinging of the forced dilation, while her lips trembled, letting out sharp whimpers that she tried to swallow, but that escaped in desperate gasps, completely subjugated by the raw friction.
Feitan then stopped abruptly. He stood up, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his calloused hand, but kept one of his hands firmly pinned against her thigh, preventing her from closing up. Looking down at her with his gray eyes half-closed and a gleam of pure possessive impatience, he pulled his high collar down a bit more.
— Enough foreplay. Fingers aren't enough for what I want to do to you today — he said, his voice in a low, husky, drawn-out tone. — Now let's get straight to the point. I want to feel this resistance of yours squeeze my dick until you can't take it anymore.
He freed himself from the fastening of his pants, his already stiff and throbbing masculinity aching for the warmth that contrasted with the coldness of the environment. Without any preamble, without lube or prior caresses, he thrust his hips forward, entering her all at once, deep and relentless.
(Y/n) let out a sharp cry, the initial pain of the sudden expansion mixing with the electric shock of pleasure induced by the raw friction. Feitan froze for a second, his eyes dilated, relishing the way her flesh squeezed him tightly, as if trying to hold him back.
— Hmm... that's it... yes... squeeze me like that — he ordered, delivering a swift, upward thrust that hit her deepest spot, making her eyes roll back. — It's been a while since I fucked such a tight, delicious little pussy.
He spoke with a muffled, paused voice, his accent chopping the words harshly, almost spitting out the phonemes with a purely cruel, focused pleasure. He leaned in, pressing his face close to her ear to dictate her sentence:
— You are mine. Every piece of flesh, every drop of blood. It all belongs to me.
He began a frantic, merciless rhythm. The sound of clashing flesh echoed off the concrete walls, accompanied by the rhythmic, metallic clinking of the chains above. Feitan gripped her waist so tightly that his fingers would leave lasting purple bruises. Each thrust was designed to dominate, to remind the Reader of her total lack of control. He didn't want an act of love; he wanted an absolute surrender.
(Y/n), shrouded in the haze of oxygen deprivation caused by his Nen and the overwhelming pleasure that was starting to pool in her core, felt a deep self-loathing for reacting that way, sickened that her own body would betray her in the face of such brutality. Losing her judgment, she began to beg, though she didn't even know for what. Her hips moved involuntarily against his, seeking more of that brutal invasion.
— P-please... Feitan... stop... more... I can't... — she stammered, her voice completely broken, mixing pleas for help with gasps of pure, involuntary ecstasy. — I'm going to lose my mind... please...
Feitan let out a nasal, sadistic, and satisfied laugh as he watched her mind break under the weight of the impending orgasm. He pulled her head back by her hair, exposing her throat, and sank his teeth into it, biting down hard until the metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth. The sharp pain made (Y/n) explode in a violent spasm, her vaginal walls contracting convulsively around his member.
Suddenly, Feitan stopped his thrusts abruptly, freezing in place while still deeply inserted in (Y/n). His mind, working amid the frantic rhythm of pain and pleasure, conceived a sudden idea that made his lips curve into a wide smile. He let out a loud, nasal laugh, pulling out of her all at once, leaving (Y/n)'s intimacy exposed and throbbing in the cold air.
Feitan walked over to a dark corner of the basement where a heavy metal box sat. He opened it, rummaging through the contents with the metallic clattering of tools and chains being dragged around. Slowly, he stood up, turning so that you could catch a glimpse of what he had found: a black leather gag with a rigid silicone ball in the middle, and a hostile-looking vibrator. It was no ordinary toy; the device was made of dark, matte metal, textured with deep spiral grooves and rounded steel ridges designed to press against and bruise the inner walls. At the base, a series of small, blunt, retractable blades vibrated violently, engineered strictly to maximize painful friction, perfectly matching his sadism for sexually torturing someone.
Upon seeing the objects in his hand, (Y/n) blushed a violent red that rushed from her neck to her cheeks. She choked on frustrated whimpers, her chest heaving up and down, completely indignant and furious at the audacity of this barely-five-foot-tall torturer who kept her under complete submission.
Feitan approached with slow steps, holding the objects right at (Y/n)'s eye level. He displayed the little toys with an almost childlike pleasure, his gray eyes gleaming intensely, mimicking a child showing off new toys to provoke and humiliate another.
— Look closely... See what I found for you — he murmured, his voice drawn out and cut by thin giggles. — You like to talk loud, don't you? Let's fix that first. Open your mouth.
Without giving her a chance to turn her face away, he gripped (Y/n)'s jaw forcefully, shoving the silicone ball into her mouth and pulling the leather straps violently, buckling the gag tightly at the nape of her neck.
— Much better. This way you won't bite your tongue while I play with the rest — he said, his tone harsh and satisfied.
Without any preamble or lubricant, Feitan gripped the metal vibrator and cruelly shoved it into (Y/n)'s vagina. He pushed the cold object in all at once, turning the vibration to maximum intensity the exact second it hit the depth of her canal. The textured metal and ridges scraped mercilessly against the (y/n)'s sensitive and already battered walls. The electric shock of the aggressive stimulation tore muffled, sharp, and desperate whimpers from her, reverberating heavily through the gag while her body tried to writhe, helpless against the chains.
Feitan watched her tremors with his eyes half-closed. Taking advantage of the fact that (Y/n) was completely distracted by the whimpers and the spasms from the vibrator, he positioned himself behind her. Without any warning, he firmly grabbed the (y/n)'s marked hips and shoved his own member into (Y/n)'s anus.
He delivered a hard, violent thrust, burying himself completely inside her all at once. The impact made (Y/n)'s eyes widen in pure shock. Her back arched violently backward, the links of the chains on the ceiling creaking with the jolt of her body, while she let out a sharp cry entirely muffled by the gag. Thick, involuntary tears of pain and saturation began to fall from her eyes, tracing down her dust-stained cheeks.
Feitan fixed his eyes on her tears, feeling the walls of (Y/n)'s body contract around his member in a desperate, crushing squeeze. Her panic and pain were the absolute peak of his control. He let out a low groan of pure satisfaction, digging his nails into her hips to keep her pinned against his body as he began to move again.
— Hmm... Yes, cry like that... — he murmured close to her ear, his voice heavy with a dark, possessive pleasure. — You squeeze so tight... You are delicious when you're desperate, (Y/n). Hold on tight, because I'm not stopping now.
Feitan then continued delivering deep, plunging thrusts into (Y/n), finding it extremely exciting how she writhed in pain under his command. The rhythm was relentless, dictated by the sharp slap of flesh and the constant creaking of the metal above. The sensation of that hostile vibrator tearing and vibrating in her vagina, combined with Feitan's member violently invading her anus at the same time, shattered whatever sanity she had left. Internally, amidst the whirlwind of humiliation and agony, (Y/n) pleaded to any holy being that might exist in the universe to save her from that underground hell.
Wanting to savor the total breakdown of his prisoner even further, Feitan extended his free hand to the nape of her neck. He pulled the leather strap of the gag upward with force, forcing the silicone ball to press even deeper into the back of (Y/n)'s mouth, while simultaneously using the index finger and thumb of his other hand to violently pinch and pull her nipples, twisting them in sync with his rear thrusts. It was a purely perverted punishment, designed to overload her nervous system with multiple focal points of pain.
— Look at me... I told you to look at me — he hissed, his voice harsh, his drawn-out accent mixing with a loud, sadistic sound of satisfaction. — I want to see what is left of that proud pose of yours.
The new wave of pain made (Y/n) let out a sequence of sharp, strangled whimpers through the gag, the sound echoing muffled and trembling in the basement. She was forced to lock her vision onto him. Her eyes, which at the start of the interrogation exhaled a defiant and legendary coldness, now bore no trace of pride; they were completely flooded with thick tears that streamed without stopping, gleaming intensely in the dimness due to the reflection of the faint ambient light, exposing a vulnerable mixture of physical collapse and involuntary surrender.
Tightening his fingers even harder against her battered skin, Feitan leaned his face in until his lips almost brushed against (Y/n)'s trembling ear. He slowed the rhythm of his thrusts for a brief second, just to make her feel the full weight of the double invasion while he dictated his intentions with a terrifying calmness.
— Little girl... you have no idea of the countless other ways I am going to play with you — he murmured, letting out that dry, broken "Kk... heh..." that vibrated directly against her neck. — I can already picture so many grotesque ways in my head that I can't even decide where to go next. I will use and abuse your body however I want, whenever I want, and until I decide I'm done and finished with you. But until that day comes... you will still be my personal, exclusive little toy.
He concluded by letting out a sequence of thin, sharp, and purely sadistic giggles, a sound that echoed off the cold walls of the basement as he returned to thrusting with full force, making it entirely clear that every spoken word was a real promise.
(Y/n), still weeping copiously, felt her vagina throbbing violently from the aggressive vibrations of the metal. The forced stimulation was so overwhelming that, in some strange and humiliating way, her body continued to produce lubrication, making her completely slick around the toy—a physiological betrayal that only deepened her despair.
Noticing the abundant moisture, Feitan gripped the base of the vibrator and pulled it out of (Y/n)'s vagina all at once. Without a moment's hesitation, he shifted his positioning and went back to thrusting with full force directly into her pussy, taking advantage of the completely open, drenched canal to deliver swift, deep blows.
While hammering into her with merciless force, Feitan brought his face close to her body. Caught in a proprietary frenzy, he began to leave painful bites, deep hickeys that would turn into lasting purple bruises, and rough licks all around (Y/n)'s neck, collarbone, and ear. His tongue then slid slowly upward, tracing a warm, wet line from her collarbone to her jaw, and from her jaw to her mouth. With a swift movement of his free hand, he pulled the leather gag down and delivered a hot, possessive kiss, aggressively shoving his tongue inside, taming and claiming (Y/n)'s mouth while his lower body continued to fuck her.
(Y/n) groaned breathlessly in response, her voice muffled and trembling amidst the invasive kiss. When he pulled his lips back a mere fraction to catch his breath, she managed to whisper between gasps:
— F-Feitan... please... my body... I can't take this torture anymore...
Feitan smirked at her words, his gray eyes gleaming with the absolute control he held over her mind.
— This isn't torture, little girl... It's your new home — he whispered, his voice harsh and drawn out against her lips.
In that exact moment, Feitan felt (Y/n)'s vaginal walls begin to contract in violent, involuntary spasms around his member, indicating that she was already hitting the peak of an overwhelming orgasm. The extreme, desperate squeezing of her flesh was the definitive trigger for Feitan himself. Throwing his head back, he let out a low growl, relishing in provoking her with the filthiest words possible to humiliate her as she came undone.
— Look at you... squirting so hard around my dick after everything — he hissed, his eyes locked onto hers. — A filthy little mafia slut... You're loving being fucked so nastily in this basement, aren't you?
Realizing that his own climax had arrived and that he could no longer hold back, he warned her, his voice strained from the effort:
— I'm going to cum... feel my semen inside you.
He delivered three final, brutal, and deep thrusts, burying himself as deeply as their anatomy allowed. Feitan roared softly, uttering a swift, guttural phrase in his native Meteor City dialect, as he poured his hot, abundant semen directly against her cervix.
He stayed inside her for several long minutes, motionless, even as his member began to go soft within the warm canal, enjoying every single one of the post-orgasmic tremors that racked (Y/n)'s exhausted body. Feitan leaned down and cleaned the blood trickling from the (y/n)'s neck with his tongue—a purely animalistic, possessive, and definitive gesture.
— You are never leaving this place. I will make sure the entire mafia, your friends, and your family believe you died in the most brutal way, and they will never find your body — he whispered against her lips, his gray eyes fixed on hers, gleaming with a cold, psychopathic madness that shattered any hope of rescue. — No one knows you're alive. And I won't allow any member of the Troupe, not even my own leader, to take you away from me. You are going to rot here with me until your mind forgets who you used to be. You were made for me. My unbreakable piece.
