novasdarling

[novasdarling]

Indulgence [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Title: Indulgence [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Synopsis: Just Feitan wanting to touch your nyloned feet.

Word count: 774

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, forced footplay, brief tickling

Feitan's grip on your nylon-clad ankle is not especially tight. His fingers do not press into your flesh, ensuring small printed bruises that will last for days.

Instead, he holds your ankle like it’s something precious and sentimental. Like you held your grandmother’s porcelain figurines when you were little, and she’d told you again and again that she loved those figurines so much that if you were to crack a single one, it would break her heart.

But, taking in the look in his eyes, perhaps sentimental is the wrong word. He looks more fascinated than anything else.

“Feitan?” You ask, shifting yourself on the worn cushions of the sofa. You don’t dare pull your foot away--he’d stop you, if you were stupid enough to try.You’re not that stupid anymore.

He doesn’t acknowledge you at first.

You curl your toes, unused to the stretch of the thin nylon material over them--and his eyebrows actually lift up. Seeing any expression on him that wasn’t irritation or disgusted glee while he tortured people was almost astonishing enough to make your own eyebrows raise.

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice low, almost husky.

It’s the question you wanted to ask him.

“Nothing,” you say. Right? You’re just sitting here. He’s the one acting odd.

“You curled your toes.” His answer is short. Factual.

Because well, you did curl your toes. But… you didn’t mean anything by it. They were stiff, you’ve been sitting here so awfully long, and Feitan hasn’t explained a thing.

He didn’t respond this morning when you asked why there were nylons on the bed with the outfit he’d picked out--a short white nightgown that you’ve had for ages, worn in the armpits, with a lace trim that needed a good bleaching--or where your socks had gone.

He didn’t give you a reason when you told you to sit on the sofa, or when he grabbed your legs and yanked them up, forcing you to pivot around to avoid an uncomfortable twist in your hips.

Nor did he offer up any explanation when he’d taken your ankle in his hands and placed your foot on his thigh and simply… held it there--is still holding it there.

“I… I didn’t mean to?” You lick dry lips. “I mean, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just going to ask you why you’re…” You trail off as his eyebrows go from high to furrowed. 

Slowly, his other hand moves from its spot on his thigh and hovers above your foot. Your heart begins to beat faster--you weren’t disobedient lately, or at least he hadn’t said so.

He wouldn’t break your foot without telling you the reason, surely. The lecture he’d given after he broke a few of your fingers the first (and last) time you’d ever slapped him was a testament to that.

His fingers descend--one, two, three, four, five--but he doesn’t break your foot. Instead he begins to massage it.

That should make your heart slow down, but instead it only speeds up, even as his fingers begin to press down harder, a firm pressure down the length of your arch, then up your sole, ending just underneath your toes.

The nylon material shifts under his fingers. It feels strange, like some kind of thin second skin that heightens the sensation of being touched. It feels warm from the rubbing, despite the vague undercurrent of ticklishness that makes you want to yank your ankle away.

His fingers begin to lightly massage your toes, which stretch and curl instinctively. It’s too light, too ticklish.

Your breath hitches.

So does his.

“Ticklish?” He asks.

You nod. Lying had been trained out of you long before this.

He hums. There’s a pit in your stomach that begins to eat itself as you watch emotions play out on his face. It’s harder with the cowl up, but his eyes can give enough away, if you know how to look. You’ve had lots of practice.

He’s delighted by something.

Which is rarely a good sign.

Still, you know better than to try to yank your foot away, even as his fingers return to your toes, pressing down harder. It still tickles, but there’s more to it, now. The warmth is back, an unexpected, unwanted pleasurable feeling.

He stares at you the whole time, gauging your reaction.

Your fingernails dig into the sofa, digging into the already frayed threads. You bite your lip. You don’t want to give him anything. But he’ll just take it anyway, won’t he?

It’s going to be a long evening, you think. And judging by the expression on Feitan’s face--he thinks so, too.

[novasdarling]

TW: NSFW, dubcon/noncon, size difference

Yanderes with too much libido – who’s horny at the simple thought of you waiting for them at home – already with a boner when unlocking the door.

“Ah, wait – hurts!” You’ll whine when he’s all but bearing over you in a moment’s time – on your hands and knees with your hips held up by his chunky arm, pressing your butt back against his raging bulge like a locked seatbelt on a rollercoaster – keeping you from crawling away.

His other hand has crept down between your thighs – pressing two spit-slicked fingers into your unprepped hole.

“Hurts?” He’ll laugh breathily, wiggling the digits while kissing and sucking your cheek with a smile – as though it were but a cute joke while he continues to curl them into the sponge of your walls – his voice hot on the shell of your ear in a rugged whisper. “Must mean I don’t fuck you enough.”

His fingers slip out and leave your hole to flinch around nothing – but soon after, reared by the plush velvety tip of his much fatter cockhead. He doesn’t even bother teasing it with a kiss before delving in – plowing through the tightness with a satisfied sigh.

“A pretty pussy like this should always be ready for a pounding.” He grunts when he has your skewered down to the base. Drawing a dozen wet circles into your clit before leaving it in favor of giving your tit a squeeze until it settles on holding your throat, pressing you back against his chest – keeping you steady for him to start his deep rutting. “Pretty pussy just needs a lil’ reminder – she’ll remember who she belongs to soon enough.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Dabi, Aizawa

JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji

HQ – Kuro, Iwaizumi, Sakusa, Miya twins, Ukai

DS – Doma

[novasdarling]

Please, Daddy’s hovering at deaths door.

[novasdarling]

hello do you have a list of fave recs?

Yes, I have a few favourite writers. However, It's hard to pick favourite picks. Also, most of my fave are for HxH.

This list is a mix of full fic writers and short-post writers.

Favourite writers:

@uvobreakmylegs, @after-witch, @hypnoswrites, @blughxreader (obsessed with og yanderes), @yourtamaki, @evilzoldyck, @saintshigaraki, @ddarker-dreams, @depravitycentral, @holydayaria, @justyanderes, @red-writes, @suguwu, @heavensgxte(BESIEGED!!!)

Honestly, there's more, basically all the accounts I follow!

[novasdarling]

Hopefully, in 2024 I'll have more time to write cause this year has been shit for me and making time for writing

#never enough time #or enough time but no energy #writing

[novasdarling]

megumis need for your affection and love once he falls for you is bottomless and hungry and anything that threatens being the primary receiver for that affection drives him a little bit crazy. its being the youngest.. being gojos menteee.. he just wants to swallow and drown and bury himself in your gentle feelings for him

[novasdarling]

[novasdarling]

one thing i refuse to do is write a man who is normal about his partner. he must be frothing at the mouth, hissing at anyone who approaches them like a rabid raccoon, daydreaming about them 24/7 or what's the point?

there is none. go feral or go home

[novasdarling]

his long hair and murderous tendencies have bewitched me body and soul

[novasdarling]

god thinking about how unsettling hawks can be. you talk about maybe leaving and heading back to your own place after an evening spent with him. you usually sleep over at his place, he can be very persuasive in that regard. but it's a sunday night, you have work the next morning, and there are some leftovers in your fridge that you should probably eat tonight before they go bad so you're more insistent than usual. and hawks is just. not happy about it. he tilts his head to the side and his pupils....narrow. you feel a bit like a bunny being circled by a bird of prey. you should stay he says, but it doesn't sound like a suggestion. so you do. because you don't really want to know what he'd do if you didn't.

[novasdarling]

can we have more yan DEKU who terrorises his exgirlfriend? like, he sends her creepy letters and gifts, without mentioning it's him of course, scaring her straight back into his arms??

BNHA ! IMAGINE

Midoriya Izuku "Deku" x darling

TW: yandere, hints of dubcon/noncon, size difference, stalker, mental abuse

Green Paisley

You’d felt watched lately, and things were rarely where you remembered putting them. But thinking it was all in your head, you’d ignored it until you received the first gifts and saw the pictures. Eyes peeled while reading the letter with a shaky hand covering your mouth, you dropped everything on the steps to your apartment when quickly reaching for your phone.

I wasn’t going to write you any letters. I was happy just watching because I knew you were already spoken for. But I’ve noticed that the green-haired guy hasn’t come over lately, and I feel so sad knowing you’re home all alone…

You contact the police, but all they tell you is to invest in a new alarm system. After a little crying at the station, they show you enough sympathy to post a squad car in your neighborhood – but all in all, you’d say they didn’t seem very convinced.

That green-haired guy is a fucking moron. If you were mine, I would never let you go. I would take care of you, much better than he ever could. I would give you only the prettiest gifts and call you only the sweetest names. I’d treat you how someone like you deserves to be treated. Keep you safe and sound and happy to be mine…

You read the stalker’s letter again while browsing ways to upgrade your security – your thumb in your mouth, nail bending where you chewed on it – eyes panning over the photos that came in the box. Taken through the window – some innocent enough, candid pictures of you cooking in the kitchen or watching a movie on the couch. 

Others were not so innocent.

Your nail broke between your teeth as you looked at the revealing pics of you in your bedroom – wearing nothing but flimsy underwear. 

You looked back to the screen and continued scrolling through deals – but more than that, you were trying to distract yourself from what you really wanted to do…

Izuku had always been a source of comfort when it came to safety, and you know he’d come if you called, but since you broke up with him only a couple of months ago it seemed too selfish to ask. Besides, the reasons you broke things off were all because of his derogatory tendencies, and to beg him over because of something like this would only prove his point.

You couldn’t call him over. He’d see it as a win, and you’d decided you wouldn’t lose to his patronizing ways any longer. You needed to do this on your own – without his help.

You had to wait through the weekend until Monday to call a guy. A new box came both days, each one more terrifying than the last. But after installing a new alarm system you felt a little safer.

But the next box stripped that safety away.

I know I must be creeping you out. After all, you have no idea who I am, whereas I know you so intimately. But you shouldn’t feel scared. I would never hurt you. My gift to you today is proof of that.

P.S. Security systems aren’t enough to keep me away from you. 

Beneath the letters were more pictures of you – this time sleeping – inside the house. 

You fell apart – caving in, calling Izuku in tears, begging him to come over in a hurry. “Izu- please, please, please come home-”

He’s sitting on your couch only a curt fifteen minutes later, a tight arm around your midriff, holding you close for comfort while you sobbed against his chest – a furl deepened his brows while reading, holding your stalker’s letters in the other hand with green eyes narrowing for every sentence he finished.

I dream of making you mine. As I watch you sleep, I wonder what you dream of. You look so lonely lying there. Maybe if I keep you company, you’ll start dreaming of me too.

“How many of these have you received?” He questioned when done, looking around at the gift wrap on the floor, green-paisley-patterned, and the several boxes filled with crepe and untouched pieces of what looked like different arrangements of lingerie, candy, and sex toys.

“Four, I think…” You muffled against his tear-soaked shirt, clinging to him with your legs tucked onto his lap.

“Four? Why didn’t you call me sooner?” He echoed, looking down at you with heavy curls shadowing his eyes.

You looked up at him through the blur, lip sucked between your teeth before answering. “I- I went to the police-”

“The police? You went to the police instead of calling me?” He cut you off harshly, making you flinch.

“I-I-” You stuttered, crying, and he shook from his misplaced anger and took your face in his palms.

“Shh-sh- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” He apologized with a kiss on your forehead before pulling you close to his chest again. “It’s just… this is exactly what I warned you about. You should have called me sooner.”

“I’m sorry.” You whimper, calming down to the warm strokes his large hand smoothed across your back.

“Shh- it's okay… I’m here now… and I'm not gonna let any sicko touch you. I promise.” He soothed – his voice a calm and strong anchor for you to grip onto. “Come, I’ll help you pack a bag. You’ll sleep at my place tonight.”

“Okay…” You sniffle. “Thank you.”

He drove with only one hand on the steering wheel, the other on your lap, holding your hand – your bag by your feet – and you’re reminded of the first days you started dating. Sleepovers and overnight bags – his hand between your thighs on the drive.

His new place is bigger than the last – like something out of a magazine. Modern and simplistic – a little too clean, maybe, but very stylish. 

You knew he’d been climbing the ranks a couple of spots a week since you broke up with him, but you hadn’t known the new paychecks could afford something like this. It made you feel a little guilty thinking about it, then a little embarrassed, causing you to flush – standing there in guest slippers, bag in hand – your presence sticking out like a sore thumb.

“You hungry?” He asked, shaking you out of your meekness, where you looked up with a small nod and a slight hum.

He smiled, turning to the kitchen. You were so cute.

At dinner, it almost feels like old times. Izuku plays with your legs under the table even though you give him a look. He gets you to giggle after a while, surrendering to his hopeless flirting. You help him carry the dishes after you’ve finished – and even though he has a washer now, you slip right into that old routine and start filling the sink with warm water and soap. And then you stand there, the two of you – shoulder to elbow, and your chest flutters, wondering if he was always that tall.

You blushed and ducked your head, not wanting him to see you getting so flustered. You pretended to be throwing some scraps in the trash and that's when your eyes caught hold of it.

Green paisley.

You’re stunned for a moment. Still crouched down, your head hovering over the trash – face blank, body still.

“You weren’t meant to see that.” Came a voice.

Izuku stood next to you. Washcloth in hand, dripping soapsuds on the floor.

You’re breath shivers in your throat, and you drop to the ground with a gulp, looking up at him – now with building fear accenting your still shocked expression.

You blink a couple of times, trying to make sense of it but getting nowhere. “W-why?” Left you then, along with sudden tears that started slipping down your cheeks.

And it really was the only question you had. Why would he do this? Why would he torment you like that? Why would he-

“’Cause you left… And I needed a way to get you back.”

You cringed. Feeling sick – almost sick enough to turn around and throw up the entire dinner in the trashcan, all over that stupid green paisley print. But you didn’t. “You’re pathetic.” – is what you said instead.

You got up from the floor. Upset tears still rolled down your face, but you were mostly just pissed – kicking off your guest slippers, you sat down atop the shoe bench and started doing your laces.

“I’m leaving. Don’t call me. If I ever see you near my place, I’m calling the cops.” You uttered, grabbing your bag before yanking the door handle.

It didn’t budge – some strange new type of locking mechanism, which really made no sense to have on the inside.

“I’m going home, Izuku. Unlock the door.” You huffed, turning around to look at him sourly, only he’d approached you all too silently – making you gasp to see him standing right behind you.

“You’re not going anywhere…”

You’re taken to the bed, kicking and screaming – then pinned by hands thrice the size of your own beneath the big-boned body they belonged to. And now you’re really feeling scared.

Before, it had been such a distant threat – something you could pretend wasn’t there for most of the day and otherwise deal with by the soothing presence of a weapon in your house or a quick phone call to the police. But now – there was no comfort to be found anywhere.

“Shh, baby~ don’t fuss. It’s better this way.” He tried soothing, holding your fighting wrists tightly above your head in one fist. The other kept your lips shut, muffling all screams. Barring your thrashing legs beneath his own. “You need me- you couldn’t even last a single week without calling me.” He justified, hunched over you with his mouth only an inch above the knuckles draping your mouth. “But that’s alright, I don’t mind it. I always planned on taking care of you.” He cooed, rubbing his nose sweetly against yours despite you trying to shake away from it. 

You felt something rub against your thigh, and you knew all too well what it was. Fat tears streamed down your cheeks, facing the next events.

But Izuku shared none of your discomforts, rocking the bump against you with a moan slipping into his rant. “You like the new place I got, don’t you? You can stay in all day- I’d give you all you’d ever need or want- you’d be so comfortable you wouldn’t ever even want to leave-”

He sounded just like the letters.

And where it had ached you to know that he’d been the one to write them all… now it terrified you to understand how he’d meant every last word of it, too.

tip-jar: Kofi

#yandere deku #amazing #fucking great

[novasdarling]

New Beginnings

a fic I wrote in earlier in the year for Suiren's birthday :D

Mafia AU, Nobunaga x reader

Warnings: kidnapping, captivity, stalking, delusional Nobu strikes again

Word count: 3.8k

The flowers probably weren't salvageable, Nobunaga thought to himself.

He'd intended on them being a nice gesture, something to make you feel more at ease when you saw them. Instead, they were the first thing you knocked over after he grabbed you in order to keep you from running out of his quarters.

A mess was all that remained of his gesture: the water that had quickly soaked into the carpet while the spider lilies and bits of broken vase were strewn about. A mess that needed cleaning up, but one that he'd been unable to get to for….. Damn, a few hours now.

Turning his attention away from the time and back to you, Nobunaga did feel a little bit of relief.

This whole thing had been a little chaotic, but at least you had finally calmed down now.

After spending hours fighting against Nobunaga, struggling in his grip and crying and just trying to get away from him after the harrowing experience of being kidnapped, you had stilled as you finally sat motionless in his lap with your back leaning against his chest. You still sniffled from time to time, a few stray tears still rolling down your cheek, but you weren't actively trying to escape him anymore.

Nobunaga's arms were still wrapped around you, but once you had settled some, he had placed one hand on your head to softly stroke your hair.

“Finally tired out?” he asked.

You didn't give a response. Earlier, when you'd been fighting him, you had tried to scream as loud as you could, hoping that the noise might get some help sent your way. Nobu had anticipated this, and one of his hands clamped over your mouth to muffle your screams as he told that you'd be disturbing the others on the floor if you did that. It seemed that because of that, you didn't want to answer him now.

Nobunaga tilted his head at you, saying your name in a questioning tone.

“Don't ignore me now,” he said, “talk to me.”

You shook your head.

He considered you for a few moments before he sighed.

“I know that wasn't the best way to bring you here,” he said, “but others had become aware of you. I couldn't risk leaving you out there while enemies knew about our relationship.”

That seemed to strike a nerve.

“What fucking relationship?” you hissed, “I don't even know you.”

“You know that isn't true,” he replied, “I saw you almost every day last week.”

“Yeah, and it was weird as hell to see you outside my apartment almost every day,” you snapped, “you stalking me doesn't count as us having a relationship.”

Nobunaga sighed.

“I hate to go playing the blame game,” he began, “but you do know that I needed to do that since you wouldn't talk to me, right?”

“You didn't need to do that!” you spat, “you could've just accepted that I wasn't interested and left me alone!”

“We made a connection-”

“No we didn't,” you insisted, interrupting him, “you're not my boyfriend, I'm not your lover; we're two complete strangers who happened to have a conversation on the street and went our separate ways after. There's nothing more than that.”

Your voice then wavered when you said “we don't have a relationship.”

Anyone else may have answered the wake-up call in your words, that he was seeing things that hadn't actually been and try to make this situation right by letting you go as you so desperately wanted.

But Nobunaga found himself focused on the fact that you remembered the first time the two of you met. And while you hadn't spoken much of the details of that meeting, the fact that it stayed in your mind must've meant that it was just as significant to you as it was to him.

Despite how short that meeting had been, you had felt a connection to him just as he had to you.

You were just having a harder time accepting it, that you could jump into a relationship with him based on that alone.

For that reason, Nobunaga wasn't at all surprised that you had fought with him during and after your kidnapping, but he was hoping you would given up earlier. Every second you fought him was a second he could've used to prove that he loved you.

“I know,” he answered, “I know you don't get it yet.”

“But this is necessary. To keep you safe,” he added.

“Kidnapping isn't how you keep people safe,” you responded bitterly.

“In this instance, it is,” said Nobunaga, “and eventually, you'll realize that.”

“No-!”

You began to struggle again. Despite how little it had done you earlier, the urge to get away from him took over you once more and you did your best to wiggle out of the firm grip that held you.

Fat lot of good that did.

Nobunaga was starting to get annoyed, but he told himself he couldn't become angry with you. If he did something drastic like hitting you or tying you to the bed, it would make you that much more resentful of him.

“Is this a second wind?” he asked, “if I have to hold you the entire night I will.”

“No!”

Just as before, your attempts to get out of his hold were pitiful, and you were reduced to a sobbing mess within minutes. Nobu watched you carefully, readying himself to cover your mouth again if he had to. He had gotten annoyed with other spiders for the noises their darlings had made on the first few nights they had been taken, and he didn't want to give any of the others any ammo to mock him for you being just as bad.

When your sobs had quieted again, Nobunaga turned you so you were facing him, using his thumb to wipe away your tears before lifting your chin up so you could look him in the eye. You gave him a sour look, but he ignored it.

“I know you want to leave, but I'm sure that in time, this place will feel like home for you,” he said.

You shook your head.

“No.”

Were the other darlings this obstinate when they first arrived? Nobu personally couldn't imagine Feitan, Shalnark or Machi tolerating behavior like this. He sighed again. Hurting you and showing you how bad things could be if he was unhappy was certainly an option, but he had no desire to break you and make you fear him more than you already did. Punishment would only come for truly serious offenses. Right now he needed to be patient with you.

“Give it time,” Nobunaga said, “for the next week or so you won't be allowed out of our living quarters, and if you keep acting up, it could be longer before I let you into the common areas of the floor. After that, you'll be allowed in several points of the building. And maybe on occasion when we get permission, we can go outside together.”

“I need permission to go outside?” you asked. There was a rage bubbling in your eyes again. Somehow learning that made you more angry than afraid again.

“You're mine now,” he explained, “and there will be those who will try to hurt me by hurting you.”

“I'm not yours! People don't belong to people!” you yelled.

You began to hit him again, beating your fists against his chest over and over. Nobu decided it was better to just take this and let you tire yourself out again. Better this than you starting to yell again and force him to hold your mouth shut. Angry tears flowed down your cheeks at the hopelessness of the situation. Surely you realized that even if you managed to get away from him, the amount of security you had seen on your way in was still in your mind, and you would know that there was no hope of you running out of this building without being stopped by someone.

Eventually your assault on him stopped, and you pressed your forehead against his chest in defeat.

It was quiet now, the only noise in the room being that of your ragged breathing.

Should he say something?

… Maybe not. So far Nobu had only managed to upset you every time he spoke, and that certainly wasn't winning him any points with you. The best course of action might be to stay quiet until you said or did something.

And a few moments later, you did speak.

“Why…”

Your voice was barely over a whisper, but he still heard you, and he tilted his head at you as he waited for you to continue whatever you were saying.

“Why did you do this to me?” you asked.

Betrayal.

Through your soft, sad voice, he could clearly hear it. Sense it in the way you now clutched at his shirt. You had trusted him, and he had re-payed that trust by forcibly taking you. That needed to be what this was.

And yet knowing that gave Nobunaga a bit of hope. For you to be betrayed, you had to have liked him at least somewhat. The way you had smiled at him on the day you met was still so clear in his mind. He was certain that there was at least some bit of affection for him in your heart, and once you got over your kidnapping and you realized just how much you meant to him, he was certain those feelings would come back and grow stronger.

Once you were able to get over that hurdle in your head, everything would be fine.

Nobu wasn't sure if you had wanted an answer to your question, but after a few moments, he responded softly “because I love you.”

You didn't react.

Maybe you weren't listening, or maybe the events of tonight had simply exhausted you and you no longer could react. Either way it was out in the open now, and even if you didn't believe him in that moment, eventually you would.

He now had all the time he needed to convince you of that.

When you shifted in his hold and tried to pull away again, his grip around you tightened, anticipating a third attempt of getting away from him.

“Please let go,” you said, not looking at him, “I need to use the bathroom.”

“…. Alright. But leave the door unlocked,” he said, his tone becoming a bit more firm as he added “there'll be problems if I need to break it down.”

You nodded somewhat hastily, and with that, he finally loosened his grip completely. You were fast to scramble off of his lap and make your way to the bathroom door, closing it a bit too quickly, but you listened to his warning as there was no click of the lock after.

But what he could hear after was the sound of you sobbing again, your soft cries echoing slightly against the smooth surfaces in the bathroom. He had thought that maybe you had run out of tears, but apparently not.

Now was probably the best time to give you a bit of space. You hadn't immediately run for the door to the entrance of his quarters like he was worried you would, so you were deserving of that much.

As he sat and waited for you to process your emotions, his mind went back to the day the two of you met and the random act of fate that put the two of you together.

He'd run into you on a windy day when you were coming out of a flower shop, a bouquet of red flowers in one hand while the other had been occupied with shoving your wallet back into your bag. While you weren't turned away from him, the majority of your face had been obscured from his view due to the wide-brimmed hat you were wearing.

At first he had only barely acknowledged your presence, his eyes naturally going over to you when you had initially exited the shop just to be aware of the new person that was now in his sights. Nobu hadn't anticipated that you might be a threat, but with his status in the troupe and the dangers that came with having such a position, it didn't hurt to be too careful. The would-be assassins of the world took many different forms.

He didn't spend long looking at you once he determined that there was nothing to be worried about, turning his attention back towards the walkway in front of him, his thoughts going back to the troupe and recent issues that had cropped up, ones regarding the owner of a private security company that operated within Yorknew. From his peripheral vision, he had noted that you had begun walking away from the flower shop entrance, heading in the direction opposite of him, and the thoughts of you would've quickly exited his mind once you were out of his line of sight.

Nobunaga would've passed you by completely had it not been for what happened next.

A gust of wind blew past you, and it was strong enough that it knocked your hat off of your head. You tried to grab it with your free hand but you weren't fast enough, and you started to follow, trying to hurry and grab it before it got too far away or touched the ground.

Instead, Nobu caught it.

It was mostly instinct that made him catch it. Just an instance where he saw from the corner of his eye that something was coming towards his head and he reacted. He only realized what had happened when he felt the material against his fingers and then looked at it to confirm.

And then you walked up to him, thanking him for not allowing the thing to blow away.

Something about you struck him. Something about the way you smiled and thanked him as he handed the hat back to you.

Something about the way you looked at him so sweetly.

“No problem,” he told you, having been barely able to remember that it was best to give you some sort of response.

That probably should've been the end of it, but something in him compelled him to keep talking to you. You'd set the hat back on your head when the wind blew again, and while this time it didn't escape you again, you needed to grab and hold it in place.

That had made for an easy enough topic of conversation.

“Doesn't seem like you dressed appropriately for this sort of weather,” he commented, brushing some of his hair behind his ear.

“Guess not,” you agreed, laughing as you said “it looked nice enough out today, so I didn't think to check what the conditions were. Lesson learned. Won't do that again.”

Nobu nodded along absentmindedly before glancing at the bouquet you held. All he'd really noted before was their red coloring, but now that he was looking at them for more than a few seconds….

…. Weren't the Spider Lilies associated with death and bad luck?

“Someone die?” he asked, nodding towards the flowers.

“Hm? Ah, they do tend to have a negative connotation, don't they?” you said, laughing a little.

Then you shook your head, adding “but these are for me. I like them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think they're pretty.”

Nobunaga glanced at them again.

The shade of red was nice, he supposed.

“I am a little surprised, though,” you said, “I didn't think most guys were interested in flowers. Not most guys around here, at least.”

“I can't say that I'm interested,” Nobu answered, “I've just heard enough about them to know that they're typically a bad sign.”

“Yeah,” you said again, “but I still like them.”

The conversation came to an end after that; you apparently had somewhere you needed to be. And to be fair, it was the same case for Nobu, as he was very likely going to be late for a troupe meeting.

You thanked him once more for saving your hat, and shortly after you were on your way, once again heading in the opposite direction of him. And although your face was quickly obscured from him, Nobunaga felt certain that he saw you smiling to yourself as you walked away.

After watching you for a moment, he had turned and began to walk as well, heading back towards his destination, though his thoughts had remained on you.

It was strange how one little interaction had stayed with him like that. How a single conversation about weather and flowers that hadn't even lasted five minutes replayed in his head for the entire rest of the day and only ended when he finally fell asleep that night, just to end up replaying in his head again the morning after.

He had accepted that the meeting between you two was fate the day after that and that the two of you were meant to be together. Why else would he be thinking of you so often? Why else would you have spoken with him like that? Why else had the elements themselves conspired to bring about a scenario where you were made to interact with one another?

It was the only explanation that made any sense.

Luck had been on his side when he remembered the flower shop he saw you walk out of – it was one that was under the troupe's protection, and for that reason, the owner had no choice but to allow Nobu to look through the shop's recent orders when he went in for a surprise 'visit'.

Luck was on his side again as it turned out you had called the shop to place the order for the spider lilies, giving them your name and phone number that they had yet to clear from their records.

It was incredibly easy to find you after that.

Back to the present, Nobu sighed to himself as he thought over what had happened after he'd found where you lived and how you'd become increasingly defensive every time he spoke with you. Maybe he'd come on too hard those other times. And now this, having no other option than to take you to the Nitery just to ensure your safety when you made it clear that you didn't want to go.

Nobunaga had no doubt that it would be a long, strenuous process for you, to accept your place as his darling and to learn to love him back, but even if that process took forever, you would give in.

You were meant to.

Several minutes had passed, and you still hadn't left the bathroom. He wasn't worried that you had managed to escape through there; that room had no windows, and the air vents were far too small for anyone to fit through.

Still, at a certain point he needed to make sure you were alright.

Getting up and standing before the closed door, he knocked on it gently as he called out your name.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

No answer.

His brows furrowed, and he took the knob in hand and turned it.

He found you in the shower, curled up in a corner of the stall and your head resting against your knees as you were fast asleep.

You must have been truly exhausted to have fallen asleep in such a place.

Nobunaga gingerly picked you up and carried you bridal style out of the bathroom. Though he had spent several hours with you in his arms, there was something about how you were so docile right now, not fighting against him and even pressing yourself further against him in your sleep. A shame that it was only because you weren't awake at the moment. But someday, he told himself, he would get to the point where you would long to be in his arms, where you would beg for his touch and for him to give you everything he had to give.

Not tonight. Or anytime soon.

But maybe in a matter of months he could get you to that point.

He placed you on his bed, putting the covers over you after. Tomorrow he'd have some of his lackeys accompany him to your old apartment and gather up some of your clothing and other items that you might miss. For tonight, though, you'd need to make due with sleeping in your clothes.

And what he'd need to make due with tonight was sleeping on the couch. As much as he wanted to go to sleep with you in his embrace, you'd be upset in the morning if that was what you woke up to.

Eventually he'd get to that point without you being disgusted with him, he told himself as he turned off the light of the bedroom, leaving you sleeping peacefully in the dark.

Now alone in the main area of his quarters, Nobunaga was about to turn off the lights and pass out on the couch – it was horribly late by now.

But just as he went to flick the light switch, he caught sight of the broken vase and flowers that still hadn't been cleaned up, and he sighed to himself again. Better to clean it up now so he wouldn't have the hassle of doing that the next day as well.

Pulling over a small trash bin, he began to collect the pieces of vase and tossed them in before going to the flowers. It felt like a shame to throw them away, especially since you liked them. Though it really was your fault for smacking them like you did.

Nobunaga looked at the flower he currently held; the stem was bent and some of the petals had fallen off.

Death, bad luck and abandonment, he remembered. Just a few of the meanings this flower had.

You'd met him when you were carrying a bouquet of these, and you saw the red spider lily again when you were brought to his room at the Nitery.

Maybe you were reconsidering how much you liked them and how much bad luck they had brought you so far.

That fleeting thought caught him off-guard, and he froze, broken flower still in hand.

…..

… Superstition was silly, he told himself as he continued with the clean up.

If anything, these flowers represented good luck for him, because if it hadn't been for you going to that flower shop on that day to collect them, he might not have found you.

It was pure chance and good luck that brought the two of you together, and while Nobunaga knew you didn't see it that way now, eventually you'd stop lying to yourself and admit that it was true: you were meant to be together.

But until that day came, he'd be patient with you and do whatever he could so you would understand that. Happiness for the two of you would come eventually when you gave in.

You were meant to, Nobunaga repeated to himself.

#yes #nobu my pathetic hopless romantic #love it

[novasdarling]

ur writing is so good omg 😭😭

Thank you!!! I'm sure I sound like a broken record, but it means a lot when people like my writing. Makes me want to keep writing, that and the ideas that won't let me sleep.

Thank You!!!!!!!!!!!

#youre so sweet #Gonna make me blush

[novasdarling]

Late Night Break In [Yandere Uvogin x Reader]

Title: Late Night Break In [Yandere Uvogin x Reader]

Synopsis: You never expected to find your soulmate. After all, it’s not like there were lots of people named “Uvogin” out there. Commissioned piece.

Word count: 3000ish

notes: yandere, soulmate AU, breaking and entering

Another Friday night alone. 

But it’s okay. You won’t wallow in self-pity and think about the couples who were out and about the city on romantic dates, or snuggled up on the couch prepping for a night of passionate (or not so passionate, depending on the strength of their relationship) sex. 

Life’s too short to wallow. And it’s not like you were exactly alone.

You’ve got your movie collection and your antique figurines and your latest purchase, a vintage sofa with restored upholstery that means you get the benefit of the original aesthetic without the downside of years of stains, rips, and potential bed bugs. 

And you have friends. Maybe you don’t see them very often, admittedly because you got tired of being asked when you were going to find your soul mate, whether or not you’d consulted a searching service to find them, if you were interested in one of them paying for the service if you didn’t have the money…

Sure, some people might get a little lonely without their soulmate. Someone who you were meant to be with forever and ever, until one or both of you died. And your coworkers who’d long since found their soul mates or who were actively searching day-after day (usually using those paid services that were perfect for such things--not that you wanted to spend your money on that) sometimes looked at you with these awful pity-filled expressions that made you want to roll your eyes.  

More so than your friend’s worried clucks and glances between each other, because at least you knew your friends were coming from a place of worry and not from a place of “why haven’t you done this thing society expects you to do?” like your coworkers.

And, really--

It wasn’t your fault that you hadn’t found your soul mate. 

It’s not like there were tons of people in your home city named “Uvogin,” after all. 

At least his name was well-hidden on your body. It was written, as everyone’s was, in a neat cursive scrawl in black ink that would never come off. You’d heard stories of people who had gone so far as to cut off the skin that contained their soul mate’s name--fighting destiny and all that--only for the name to pop up somewhere else or sometimes even on the same spot, black as ever on the healing, mangled skin.

It wasn’t something you were going to try. 

Uvogin’s name, whoever he was, was on the back of your neck,  low, between your shoulder blades. You liked it that way. It meant you couldn’t be the target of scammers or people who’d been unable to find their real soulmate and were obsessively, dangerously desperate to get someone (anyone) to be with them.

And you? Well. You wouldn’t deny that it might be nice to find your soulmate. Some of your friends and coworkers and passers-by-on-the-street certainly seemed happy to be together. 

But you weren’t going to stop living your life just because you were still on your own. So if you spent your evenings watching movies or rearranging your decorations or making the perfect beef-and-wine stew for one, what was so wrong with that? 

--

You don’t wake up when someone breaks through the wood of your door with a simple stab of their fingers, slides their hand in, undoes the lock, and turns the door knob to enter without any more fanfare.

You don’t wake up when someone’s eyes dart around your apartment, looking for your bedroom.  You don’t wake up when your bedroom door opens with only the tiniest creak.

You only wake up when a hand is slapped over your mouth, and you jolt from a dead sleep with a dizzying suddenness that leaves your head swimming.

You’re awake--you think--and there’s someone above you, a big, heavy presence that seems to take up everything in your field of vision. The taste of salt and flesh is on your mouth, a big hand pressed over your lips and jaw to keep you from moving them.

To keep you from screaming.

“Where is it?” The voice asks, and you can tell it’s a man. But he’s huge, tall as anything, and even in the dimness of your room you can see he has a wild shock of hair that makes him look more like a lion than anything else. The thought is almost silly in the fogginess of your head, but as reality comes in, clearing the way, there’s nothing to laugh about right now.

“Where’s what?” You ask, or try to ask, though you can’t do more than mumble against the large meat of his hand against your face.

  It takes him a moment to register that you can’t actually answer. You can see, barely, his eyes narrow down at you.

“Don’t be stupid,” he says, and you won’t be. He wants money, presumably, and you can give him that. Or your TV. Or whatever he wants. As long as you make it out alive.

Slowly, he removes his hand, as if waiting to see if you’ll try to scream.

You don’t. As he moves his hand away, your thoughts come quick, untethered, flitting about the unfairness of the situation. You haven’t really lived yet, and you’re too young to die, and you hope he doesn’t hurt you at all but if he does just let him not kill you at least, is that too much to ask, God, you hope not--

“Where is it?” He repeats. And maybe it’s just your imagination or the fear getting to you, but he seems like he’s lowered his voice a little, sounding less harsh and more considerate. Maybe because you didn’t scream and you aren’t making trouble. That’s a good sign, maybe. It’s hard to tell. 

You swallow. You wish he would move back, so you weren’t lying on your back in bed. But he does no such thing, so all you can do is stare up at him, heart hammering, mouth dry.

“Where’s what?” 

He snorts. 

”Your soulmate’s name.” 

Does your heart stop? No, but it feels like it does. You expected him to say something else. Like. Your money or your safe or your most valuable items. But your soulmate’s name? Is he some sort of deranged loner who couldn’t find his soulmate and he thinks you’re itt? 

Or… 

You swallow, thick, as the thought finally comes to you. It’s not something you thought about often, because most people weren’t worried about things like this. But sometimes your soulmate was someone Not Very Nice. Someone that Hunters might be tasked to go after. And this man, bulky and strong and intimidating as hell, could definitely be a Hunter.  

More often than not, they went after civilian soulmates when catching the criminals proved to be too difficult--though no one could say for sure what might be done to them afterward. 

Some of them were used as bait. Some of them were taken to the authorities to help track down their not-so-law-abiding soulmates. And some… well. You’d heard rumors that killing a soulmate could hinder certain types of criminals. 

“None… none of your business.” Your teeth clack against each other, a thin, quick pain that seems to linger on in your mouth. 

The man’s lips twist into a frown, half-shadowed by the darkness in the room, although as your eyes adjust you can see more of him. It doesn’t make you feel any less worried about what’s going to happen, though. 

“No?” 

You see his arm move, and think he’s about to slap his hand over your mouth again, but what he does instead is shove his arm right in front of your face.

You blink.

And stare.

And it takes you a moment to realize what you’re looking at--on his arm, bulky as it is, scared as you are. 

It’s your name. In a nice, neat scrawl. Unmistakable and permanently stained on his skin.

This man isn’t a Hunter sent here to kidnap you or drag you into a station or kill you. And he certainly isn’t here to steal your wallet or your television or your collection of rare comic books.

He’s your soulmate.

Uvogin.

“B-Back… back of my neck,” you say, stammering. 

He hums. And then he shifts over on the bed, and you instinctively sit up in your bed, glad to no longer be prone underneath him. 

“Let me see,” he says, gruff. But there’s a gradual lessening of heaviness in the air, now that you know he isn’t here to kill you or rob you or who knows what else. That still doesn’t excuse breaking into your apartment and doing this, but…

You lean forward, and with a surprising gentleness considering his size, he pulls down the back of your nightshirt enough to see what’s underneath. 

“Heh, there it is, huh…”

 He lets the fabric go and you lean back, looking at him. He stares down at you, his weight sagging your mattress, his bulky frame taking up most of the bed.

“You gonna scream?” 

You think. You bite your cheek. You shake your head.

“You gonna try to run?”

You breathe out through your nose. And you think. And you shake your head. You won’t scream, you won’t run--you can tell without asking that neither of those would do you any good. And… do you really need to? There’s a strange sort of curiosity that’s building inside you, now that you know who he is--your soulmate. 

He nods, tilting his head back a little, craning his neck as if to stretch it.

“Hope so. Would be stupid if you tried, and I hope my soulmate isn’t that stupid. You get me?”

You nod again, and your breath hitches just a little when he stands up and begins to stretch his neck again. He sighs, evidently pleased by the releasing of tension, or maybe pleased that he’s found you and you didn’t shriek like a wild banshee and try to get away.

You could still try to run. Your fingers grip on your sheets, still uneasy. Sure, he was your soulmate but… soulmates didn’t usually burst into people’s rooms at night and tell them not to scream. Usually.

Uvogin, like his name, was definitely an outlier. 

He leans against the wall next to your bed, looking down at you with appraising eyes. It almost makes you wish you weren’t sitting in bed wearing an old nightshirt, eyes bleary, hair messy. It wasn’t exactly a good first impression. 

“Been looking for you for a while,” he tells you. “I thought maybe you were good at hiding… Shalnark’s soulmate kept him out of the loop for a while.” He chuckles to himself, reliving some private memory. “But looks like you’re just that much of a nobody.”

Something inside your chest bristles.

“Excuse me?” You sit up straighter, and finally get the nerve to lean over to your bedside table and flick on the lamp. Your eyes squint for a moment. The addition of new light doesn’t make your soulmate look any less intimidating. But it does make you feel less like some helpless rabbit in the dark, at least.

He raises his eyebrows, and there’s a small part of you--a churning in your stomach--that tells you to sit down and shut up. But you’re not about to be 

“That’s rude,” you say, as calmly as you can. “I’m not a nobody just because you couldn’t find me. Maybe it means you’re bad at looking.”

There’s a pause, a beat. You wonder if you’ve pissed him off. But then he throws his head back and laughs. 

“Fair enough,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Fair enough.” He sighs, then, and looks up at the ceiling. “There is the question of what to do with you, though.”

Ah, there it is again. That churning in your stomach. A growing pit, tight and electric. 

You sit up straighter, and piece what little you know of these puzzles together in your mind. It doesn’t add up to anything particularly wholesome, even with giant chunks missing. 

“I… I’m guessing you wouldn’t be okay with a long distance relationship,” you mutter. 

He scoffs, a little laugh. “Oh? What gave you that idea?”

He leans forward, and you don’t know exactly what you expected him to do, but it wasn’t to pat you on the head. But he does. 

“Smart,” he says, while his voice is teasing there’s something that sounds a little genuine in there. Or were you imagining it? Was it just part of the soul mate bond, maybe, to automatically see things your soulmate did as pleasant? 

He sits back down on the bed. The bed frame creaks. You aren’t keen on spending money to replace it, but you aren’t keen on scolding your very large, very strong soulmate right now either. So you keep mum.

He leans forward and rests his hand on his palm, keeping his elbow on his knee.

“Well. I don’t exactly got a house with a white picket fence. Or without one, for that matter.” He rubs at his nose, and it strikes you, how casual this conversation is… your soulmate, sitting on your bed, after breaking into your apartment in the dead of night. You take the moment of his consideration to lean over and look through your bedroom door, which faces the entryway. You can just make out the busted wood of your front door… fuck. What would your landlord say?

“Some of the others got one place they keep their soulmates, suppose I should think about it…” He glances at you, gauging something. “Makes it easier when you have one place to go, ‘stead of dragging your soulmate everywhere.”

His words finally do let you feel a sense of unease. You don’t know who the “others” are, or why they would need to be dragging their soulmates everywhere. He wasn’t a Hunter, but maybe something like it. Something that kept him moving. Or, more likely considering the circumstances of your first meeting, something that kept him on the run.

The thought of being dragged around or even taken to some sort of strange house brings back that churning in your stomach, an awful, lurching feeling. Your eyes dart around your room, to everything you’ve set up in your life up until now. 

Every inch of your apartment was carefully chosen, down to the rugs on the floor and the color of the tension rods you’ve shoved into the windowsill. But it’s not just the decor. It’s… your whole life. Your job, the coworkers you’d carefully built relationships with, the fact that you have a favorite diner for breakfast and takeout spot for the weekends. 

“I… don’t want to leave here.” Your voice is soft and at first you think he doesn’t hear you, but when you see him raising his eyebrows and lean forward, you get the nerve to continue.

“If-if that’s possible,” you add, a little quickly. “I’d like to stay here. This could be your… the place where you keep me. Or whatever.” The last words come out mumbled. They’re almost embarrassing to say, like you’re some kind of pet.

He doesn’t say anything for a little while. You almost start talking again, some half-baked plead, but he leans a little closer to you. His look is serious.

“How could I trust that you won’t just run away after I leave?”

Your lips press together. 

“I worked hard for this place. For this life. I would hate…” And you search for the words, lost somewhere in the dimness of your room. “I would hate for it all to become worthless.” 

You sit up straighter, before leaning towards him. Maybe it will be easier to convince him if you don’t act so rigid, so scared. You can do that. 

“If you let me stay here, or-or even if you just let me take my favorite things with me, I’ll be… good?”

He snorts. There’s a hint of a smirk as he leans forward.

“Yeah? You’ll be good?”

Warm flushing creeps to your cheeks, and for the first time you think about what it really means to be someone’s soulmate. Togetherness. Intimacy. 

Your words come out halted, and fumbling. But you mean them, as long as it guarantees that you don’t have to give up your life. Your apartment, your spots, every carefully curated bit of your existence here. Or even--and the thought is desperate--if he is going to take you away, it would be enough if you could keep your belongings. Just enough. 

“I’ll do what you want?” You shrug, keeping your eyes downcast on  your lap, though you can see him shift out of the corner of your gaze.. “Cook or clean or… whatever.”

There’s a hand on your chin, but this time he doesn’t cover your mouth. Instead he tilts your chin up and holds it there, forcing you to keep eye contact.

“So what? You want to make a deal? I let you keep some furniture, and you’re going to be a good little housewife for me?”

“I didn’t--” You say, practically spluttering the words out. “I didn’t say that.” Your cheeks feel impossibly hot. 

He laughs, and lets go of your chin. You don’t look down.

“No, I like it. It’s cute.” He grins at you. “I’m lucky. Some of the others, well…” He rolls his eyes, and you don’t press him on it. 

He drums his fingers against the bed. 

You look up at him, eyes wide, hopeful. 

He sighs, then gives you a lopsided grin that makes your stomach churn in a different way than before. Though the feeling is just as unnerving.

“All right,” he says, with a casual sort of finality. “You can stay here.” A pause. “For now. If you try anything--and I mean anything, like going to the cops, telling your friends, whatever…” He moves his wrist around in a gesture that you can only take to mean “all of this goes away.” He looks at you with a seriousness that makes you want to press yourself through the headboard and into the wall. “Got it?”

You nod.

But then…

“There’s… one thing I need you to do before morning, then,” you say, voice tight and quiet but determined. “Uvogin,” you add, hoping that using his name might make him a little less intimidating. It doesn’t, but maybe that comes with time. 

Both of his eyebrows raise. You almost think he’ll just shut you down, but instead he asks--

“Yeah? What’s that?” 

You gesture towards your open bedroom door, towards the front of your apartment.

“You have to fix that door first. My landlord will have a fit.”

For the second time since meeting you, Uvogin throws back his head and laughs. 

[novasdarling]

the first time you let alpha yuuta kiss you he’s so nervous about scaring you that he barely does it at all. it’s a dry brush of your lips, simple, chaste.

but then he pulls back a fraction of an inch. he sees your lips, still puckered, waiting for him. he sees your eyes, staring back at him. feels the heat of your breath against his face. and something in him snaps.

after that he’s trying to lick everywhere inside of your mouth like a dog, he’s taking you by the nape so he can support you while he bends you back so he can get more of his tongue in you, he’s swallowing the mixture of your shared spit down with a moan.

he can’t help it, the ravenous way he wants you. it’s just in his nature.

#hehehehe #yes yes yes #alpha yuuta

[novasdarling]

[novasdarling]

Hii🌹can i ask "It’s so dangerous out there. Can’t you see that?"

with yandere Chrollo please? Thanks🌹

HEHEHEHE this motherfucker would. He's delusional in the scheme of him being like "Yeah my darling is better than me than anywhere else." but also he knows it's just a lie he makes so he doesn't feel too ad when you cry about being with him

Dangerous Out There

TW: Kidnapping, Yandere Behaviour, Mentions of death, Mentions of punishment

The walls were plain and cold. Made of old cement bricks, leaving little room for any warmth or comfort. Any feelings sparking joy or tenderness were missing. Cold, bland, cruel. This jail cell represented the jailkeeper well. A void of happiness and delight was exactly what Chrollo was. Just this blackhole that took and took, destroying everything it touched and devoured.

However, no amount of sadness or begging changed his mind. Nothing let him declaw himself from you. No matter how much you begged these last few weeks, he refused to let go. Rather it seemed like your tears and pleas just made him dig deeper. Made him pull you closer to him, made him add more locks to the doors and windows. Like the more you begged and craved for freedom, the more he held onto you. The more he denied it. The more he felt like he needed to keep you locked away, keep you hidden. But you couldn't help the hope that pooled inside you. Hoping your begging would chip away at him. Make any sort of difference, cause him to feel any kind of remorse and let you go. A hope you would always hold onto.

Chrollo had made his way into the living room. Standing in the doorway, observing from behind as you watched one of the few movies he had provided when he first took you. You could recite it line by line.

"I know you're there."

"Your senses are getting better. Before you wouldn't have noticed me until you could see me."

Chrollo made his way forward, kneeling in front of you. Placing himself between your legs. It made your skin itch. You didn't give him an answer, even as he waited there. Starring up at you. You ignored him. Starring at the dumb movie in front of you. His hands squeezed your thighs.

"Most people say thank you after a compliment."

"Most people don't kidnap."

Chrollo laughed. Finding your response humorous. He always found your rebuttal funny and pleasant. Making it clear he enjoyed the bit of resistance you had. The wit that came with it. Your snappy remarks. It was fun for him, as long as you never went too far.

"Touché." Chrollo rubbed his knuckles over your cheek.

"Don't touch me."

Flinching away, you pushed him. Trying to create some distance from him. Trying to get the man you hated as far away as possible. He tried again, lifting his knuckles up to caress you, but you moved again. Denying him what he wanted twice.

"Enough."

He grabbed your arms. Trying to keep you still. Keeping himself between your legs and you caged.

"Let me go."

Chrollo held on. Dismissing your words as he wrestled you still.

"I want to go home."

Tears were forming in your eyes. You hated this, hated this man. Despised everything about all of this. How the hell did a charming stranger you bumped into one day turn into the man who was holding you captive? A man that killed and hurt people to get you. A man who had no boundaries.

"Let me go. I just want to go back. P-please. I won't tell anyone. I-I promise. I want to-"

"Stop it. Stop it now."

"Go to hell."

You lashed and kicked at him. Trying to get him away. Trying to make him let go. To understand just how much you hated him. How much you wanted him dead. That this wasn't home. That he wasn't what you wanted.

"I said stop it. Listen to me." Chrollo was raising his voice at you. Not yelling, but still enough to try to demand you listen to him. "Listen to me, just listen sweetheart." One hand now held both of your arms as the other made its way to hold your face still. Forcing you to look at him. "I'm trying to help you, my dear. Trying to keep you safe. It’s so dangerous out there. Can’t you see that? Can't you see understand?"

He sounded angry yet, worried. It was a lesson he was trying to push into your mind. Trying to teach you with him was better than elsewhere. Yet, even as his words sounded sincere. You couldn't help, but laugh at him. Laugh at his words. Dangerous? The danger out there? He was fucking deranged. Worse than you thought.

"Whatever is out there, sure as hell can't be worse than being here with you."

Leaning in, close to his face so he could hear your words. Understand what you were saying. Understanding you meant it. That you would rather be out there with whatever he was worried about than with the monster that was pretending to be your saviour.

The look on Chrollo's face had changed. Like he was hurt and angry. Disappointed by your words. You knew that look, you had hurt his little fantasy. Ruined the image of him being your little hero. The look that meant your behaviour needed to be "corrected". That your wit and back talk had crossed the line.

"Seems like you need some reminding why you're here."

"What, another couple of days locked in the closet? I'll take that if it means being away from you." You spat in his face with the last sentence. Showing him you were genuine.

"See, I was thinking something different." Chrollo grabbed your upper arm. Pulling you up and making you follow him. "If you think I'm such a monster, perhaps I should leave you alone with a colleague of mine. Someone who doesn't care about your safety. Someone who doesn't love you like I do. Remember Feitan?"

You had made the worse mistake since he had taken you. Not only had you been resistant to him, but you had made him the enemy. Not just in the scheme of kidnapping, but in the idea of being with him. You told him how you saw him. Now he was going to correct it. Make you see what is worse than him when there is no love to give.

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