Feitan headcanons + oneshots

🍋 Yandere!Feitan x reader 🍋

Warning: 18+, dirty talk, domination, mentioning of torture, murder, noncon oral sex, threatening, yandere behaviour. !!!

Your jaw ached and your throat was dry.

"Deeper."

Your eyes were watering and your stomach gurgling from the incessant gagging.

"Deeper."

Feitan's harsh grip on the back of your head was ripping strands of hair out, leaving you a sniffling, whimpering mess. You couldn't take his dick in any further. You wouldn't be able to breathe if you did.

"Did you not hear me?" He hissed, voice as lethal as his malicious, narrowed eyes. "I said deeper."

Despite your muffled protests, he forced your mouth down on his length, making drool pool out the sides of your lips. Your pretty eyes, curious and distressed, were locked onto his, implicitly begging him to have mercy. He almost scoffed. Why didn't you understand that he would never pass up the opportunity to punish you? The way your face contorted in agony and varying degrees of stress made him twitch in your mouth. He relished in the tears streaming down your cheeks as your throat spasmed wildly around him.

"Why can't you ever be good?" He snarled, glaring at you as you took him all the way to his base. "You should be pleasing me of your own freewill." A dark look passed over his face. "Do you need another lesson, pet?"

You whined loudly as he fucked your face, holding the back of your head in place as his balls slapped hard against your chin. You didn't want him to torture you again. You had been trying your best to be submissive and do as he asked, but you had boundaries; you didn't think you could ever willingly fuck the man who had slaughtered all your loved ones.

A heavy groan caught in your throat when he held himself in the depths of your cavern for a moment, warming his cock. He liked watching you choke, the sadistic person that he was. He loved the helpless look on your face and the way your makeup smudged when he roughhoused you. After basking in your pathetic reaction, he released you, pulling his girth all the way out. It was time for you to speak.

Regardless of what you said, he had already made up his mind to torture your sweet body into permanent compliance.

"I-I'm sorry, master," you sobbed, coughing meekly. "I-I-I'll do b-better!"

"You should already be better," he glowered with a disgusted grimace. "But I'll teach you."

When you pursed your lips and glanced away from him, his palm came down hard on your cheek, reminding you that your attention belonged solely to him. You weren't making a very convincing case for yourself. Then again, your captor made it so that you never could.

He clutched your chin possessively, infuriated at your blatant disrespect. For the umpteenth time since you had been kidnapped by the black-crowned man, you thought he was going to kill you. You thought that you had finally crossed the line between tolerance and intolerance with your temperamental assailant.

"Don't you dare look away from me," he growled. "Next time, I'll slit your throat."

You gulped. You had been correct. He was at his wit's end with you. One more slip-up and you would be dead. He wouldn't make your demise swift, either. You had witnessed him torture others. He had even made you cut a man open, once, simply to see you squirm.

You had no choice.

If you wanted to avoid a painful end, you would have to comply with what he wanted. That meant selling just a little more of your self-worth and pride.

Your hand rose to the base of his manhood. You pumped his length once before kissing the tip. Rubbing your sore cheek, you gazed up at him. There was a knowing expression on his face, as if he knew he had trapped you. It was impossible to get anything passed someone as intelligent as him.

"I-I'm s-sorry, sir," you breathed, trying to inhibit the nausea bubbling in your stomach. "I-I'll... I'll m-make it up t-to you."

Feitan leaned back as you made an utter mess of his cock. For once, you were slobbering over his pole undirected. It was nice to lean back and watch you work his rod to save your life.

A sick smirk cracked across his lips. Maybe he would threaten to kill you more often, if it warranted a response like this. You would be a blank slate beneath his thumb in no time. He had elected to use a particular kind of torture on you — one he didn't utilize very often. It involved a plethora of non-physical techniques he could use to break that stubborn mind of yours. He could tell it was effective by the way your eyes lost more and more of their lustre every time he took you. He wouldn't snuff your spirit out entirely, though. He still wanted to reap the joy that came from punishing you, after all.