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mamayan · 10 months

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YANDERE! FEITAN PORTER X DARLING!

TOUCH

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

MDNI•18+

Trigger warnings!

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

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

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

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡. .｡.:*

Time suddenly seemed to become irrelevant.

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

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

He sat in his usual spot.

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

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

It mattered hardly at all at this point.

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

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

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

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

Outside was duller than your mind remembered.

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

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

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

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

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

“Still want to die?”

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

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

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

Only a little.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d tested boundaries early with Feitan.

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

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

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

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

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

He just kept observing you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could finally be hitting that special point of breaking.

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

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

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

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

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

This was insanity.

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

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

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

For once, you dreaded him stopping.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You should cry and beg for him to stop.

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

Debauched.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like a good little pet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I don’t understand…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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cheesecakethots · 8 months

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i love the idea of more refined/rich yanderes like chrollo & illumi dealing with a messy and ‘i don’t care what others think about me’ type darling.

you always have a few crumbs or smudges of food on your face. sometimes some dirt or grass stains in the new and very expensive robe he bought you. hair so frizzy and knotted that you whine and cringe when he tries to brush it for you.

chrollo won’t admit it, but he finds it all very endearing, and he can’t help but grow more madly in love with you every time he’s able to bring out his clean white handkerchief and softly wipe away dirt on your face. it makes him feel like some prince looking after his secret lover; a young peasant who just seems to need his help at every turn.

illumi sometimes finds it more mildly annoying than endearing, seeing you as some feral cat who hasn’t yet been integrated properly into home life. other times he jumps at the opportunity given to him, just as chrollo does. illumi is a little less reserved about it. pulling you into an either ridiculous freezing or nearly boiling hot bath, and scrubbing at you with a foresty scented soap (… it reminds him of you.) he’s a bit demeaning… seeing you as something he has to tame like some unruly pet. still, he doesn’t want to completely take that spark from you.

it’s one of the reasons he loves you so much, after all.

#maybe i’ll write that Chrollo prince fic but for reals…#cogs r turning…#tw yandere #tw.yandere #yandere #yanderecore #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo lucilfer x reader #yandere illumi zoldyck #tw forced bath #forced nudity #tw forced nudity #yandere illumi #yandere illumi x reader #yandere Illumi zoldyck x reader #yandere hxh #yandere hxh x reader

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ghxstic · 2 years

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⸝⸝ — SLEEPY? DON'T WORRY, I'LL TAKE CARE OF YOU.

⸝⸝ A/N :: requested by a lovely mutual of mine that i love sm ! !

⸝⸝ SYNOPSIS :: you should've listen to chrollo, you should've given him what he wanted, maybe if you complied before he wouldn't have go take this course of action.

⸝⸝ TW :: non-con, somnophilia, drugging, breeding, non-consensual touching, mean! chrollo, etc etc.

⸝⸝ TAGLIST :: @devmimi @luvbladez @fatenpara @zannivrs

the criminal stood by the side of your bed, his hands hidden in the pockets of his large leather jacket. the room was dark, the only light that came through was the light that peeked through under the door. you were dead asleep, it was a pretty sight, a normal person would assume that you had been terribly tired, maybe a hard day at work that left you drained. but chrollo knew the truth.

you weren't sleeping by your own will, he was the one that laced your drink after all, giving you a heavy dose of a sleeping powder, now he had you all to himself just as he intended.

chrollo watched you, a small smile on his lips, oh what a beautiful treasure.

he slipped onto the bed with you, the mattress making a slight creak as his weight was added, he made sure to remove his jacket, too, letting it fall on the ground. now, he rested shirtless beside you, his gaze still focused on you, admiring you and your beauty. one large palm moved to your face, his fingers gently moving some hair away from your face. he hummed, your face looked so soft, so peaceful, oh if you knew what he had planned.

"it's upsetting how difficult you are, i wouldn't be needing to do this." chrollo noted, he pushed the blanket off your unconscious body, his eyes taking in your position, you were on your side, he gently pushed you on your back.

chrollo was a bad guy. he was a criminal, a thief, a murderer, a horrible human being. he has done countless horrid acts without an ounce of guilt or despair, yet when it comes to you, it's different. you've made him feel new, different, his chest ached for you, yet you refused his advances without regret or care, how cruel could you be? but chrollo isn't the one to back down, he doesn't take no for an answer, if he wants something, he will take it.

you were no exception.

his muscular body towered over yours, both of his hands resting beside you, holding himself up with no issue. he wished he didn't have to do it like this, truly, he wished for you to be awake, to be the one moaning his name, not to be unconscious.

he straddled your hips, his hands pushing your shirt up, slowly exposing your skin, your breasts were exposed now, the coolness of the room making your nipples perk, chrollo's hands enveloped your chest, fondling them, his fingers gently rubbing your nipples. how perverted, but you wouldn't expect any less from a twisted man like him.

his hands then slipped past your abdomen to your pants, his fingers hooked on the waistline before they got tugged off.

He discarded your pants as well as your underwear with ease, now fully bare, you just laid there, breathing softly, unaware of chrollo's mistreatments.

chrollo took a hold of your legs, gently spreading them apart so he could rest in between them, his gaze fell on your cunt. the sight making electricity shoot down to his groin.

his fingers slipped between your folds, fingertips spreading them apart, he hummed in admiration before leaning down, his face now being closer to your cunt, chrollo pressed the flat of his tongue by your hole, then he licked up your cunt slowly, savoring your taste. once his tongue reached your clit he made sure to spit on your cunt after giving your clit a few sucks and licks.

your body had tensed slightly at the feeling, but other than that you remained unconscious.

chrollo straightened his back, his hands working to unbutton his pants, a growing bulge was obviously present. chrollo slipped his pants down, kicking them off with ease. in his calloused hand, he gripped his thick shaft, gently jerking his cock off. letting it fully harden in his hand. he squeezed his shaft, letting his thumb press on the tip, pre-cum coating the head. in a swift movement, he spat on his cock, coating his shaft with his saliva, once his skin was slick with saliva to fill in as makeshift lube, chrollo didn't take too long to press the tip of his cock on your hole.

he aligned himself nicely, his gaze moved to your face, still perfectly unconscious with that soft look on your pretty face. it was nice being on top of you and not having you sobbing for once. though, you did look pretty when you cried.

chrollo pushed his hips in, his cock stretched out your walls, a shudder left his lips as your walls wrapped around him, so tight, so suffocating. he pressed his body against yours, bathing in your warmth, his face nuzzled against the crook of your neck, kissing your skin, he didn't care about marking you. his mouth sucked on your soft skin, making sure to leave deep purple bruises on your skin.

his hands held your hips, slowly caressing your body up and down.

chrollo moved his hips back before pushing back down, a repeated motion, over and over.

at first he tried to keep his speed normal, not too slow, but not too fast either. a little voice in the back of his head telling that if he went too rough on your fragile body you'd wake up and throw a fit. something he didn't want to deal with.

but, that little voice in the back of his head was quick to disappear, the clench of your walls made his need grow, your pretty pussy milking his cock, your own slick coating his cock nicely. as his thrusts got harder, small whimpers and sighs left your lips, they were soft, but hearing them made chrollo groan. he pulled back from your neck, pleased with the multiple noises that slipped past your lips.

look at you, enjoying how his cock abused your cunt, seems like all those times you cried and sobbed, trying to push him off were all just a lie. how cute.

he didn't know his little treasure was just a whore in disguise.

you weren't the only one making noise, occasional groans slipped past chrollo's lips. your cunt was too good, it was like a drug, conscious or not.

the clutches and flutters of your walls made his cock twitch, his balls aching to cum, the primal urge to breed you, not in a familiar sense, but in a possession sense, he wanted to mark you in every single sense. the greed to have you all to himself being prominent here.

his eyes shut, his hands gripping the bedsheets to stay up, his hips starting to move sloppily, needy to cum, his balls feeling heavy. he doesn't remember the last time he got his way with you like this, maybe if you would've been more lenient and grateful he wouldn't have spiked your drink. he has been holding himself back from fucking you like this so you would warm up to him, but seeing how did you didn't change, neither did he.

but what he didn't expect was your body to tense and your walls to clamp around him as your slick coated his cock. a small mewl left your lips, your hips gently rolling up against him. did you just cum? holy shit. yes you did.

the way your walls fluttered around him as your body relaxed from your climax made him go mad.

chrollo's hips kept slamming down against yours, over and over, sloppy and messy. his balls slapping against your skin, his climax was so close it was painful, but after a few more needy thrusts he came, hard.

a husky groan left his lips, as well as a string of small curses, his cock emptying inside you, leaving you a stuffed and nicely bred.

after his thick cum coated your walls, he slid out, savoring the last of your walls before he was fully out. his cock softening nicely.

chrollo didn't care to clean you up, he wanted for you to wake up all sticky, he didn't care about the distress it could cause, besides, you came on his cock so nicely, he wanted to keep you messy as memorabilia.

standing up, the criminal just walked to the restroom, going to clean himself up, while leaving you there bare and cold.

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mayxo-hxh · 3 months

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People who think Illumi is serious 24/7 and portray him as such drive me crazy have u seen that goofy ass man... Hes sarcastic and jokes in a twisted sense of humor only he gets all the time and he literally says "Yo" to greet people he's serious when needs to be but he is GOOFY

Like look at this guy. Goofy as fuck

I think the biggest giveaway to his goofiness is gittarackur. Out of all persona disguises to create he created the goofiest man that is always smiling and twitching and cracking when he moves like come on now. He is so very not serious

LIKE EVEN HISOKA SEES HIM AS A SILLY GUY LOOK AT HOW HE DEPICTS HIM IN HIS TOY BOX. SILLY BOY :33333

#Honestly cannot read fics where he is just a business poker face guy that has never smiled in his life. like be soooo unserious for a second #hisoillu are a goofyxgoofy couple not a seriousxgoofy one cmon now!!!#its what makes them charming and unique COME ON NOWWW #hisoillu #hisoka x illumi #hunter x hunter #hxh #hisoka #hisoka morow #illumi #illumi zoldyck #my post #yapping

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depravitycentral · 10 months

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Partnership

Yandere! Uvogin x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, theft, threats of violence, implied non-con, if your name is Stacy pretend it isn't, Stockholm Syndrome, brief mention of vomiting, Nobunaga is featured a bit in this but don't worry he doesn't want you, fem reader, MDNI

This is dedicated to @ramwrites, who is amazing and wonderful and offered to write me a welcome back gift, and I couldn't not give something back in return! Thanks for letting me write this for you; your writing is so good and makes me all giggly and inspired. For those interested, please check out her Shalnark piece - I haven't read it yet, but I'm sure it's just as good as everything else Ram produces.

WC: 10K

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

“So you went and got yourself kidnapped, huh?” Uvogin asks, cocking a brow at you.

You, who’s tied to a metal chair, gagged and blindfolded, very clearly having no fucking clue what is going on.

You squirm, sitting up straight at the sound of a new, unfamiliar voice. Your cute little sleeping shorts had ridden up a bit, exposing more of your thigh than you were probably comfortable with, and Uvo notices with a distant sense of enjoyment that the thin nightshirt you’re sporting is doing very little to hide the way the cold air is affecting your chest.

You’re weak, really; a pathetic little thing that has him scoffing and crossing his arms.

“Listen up, I’m only gonna tell you this once. A friend of yours – Stacy, was it? Anyway, this friend of yours got herself noticed by the wrong type of guy.” He starts, plopping down and sitting in his own identical metal chair, just without the restraints.

You stop struggling when he mentions her name, and he takes this as a sign to continue.

“See, Nobuanga’s not a bad guy. He’s a little rough around the edges, sure, but any guy who isn’t is hardly worth knowing.” He chuckles at his own assessment of his closest friend, though you don’t seem to share the sentiment. “Stacy works at that shitty little restaurant he loves – the one with the sticky, greasy booths and the fries that come drenched with salt and are so limp they literally drip oil.”

He shivers at the mere memory, the hamburger he’d ordered barely worth eating.

“Don’t know what she did, exactly, but somehow he’s smitten – she’s got him all fucked up, ranting and raving about how beautiful she is and how she smiles at him all the time and flirts with him on the clock. Real annoying, if you ask me.” He sighs heavily, letting his thumb sit at his chin as he loses himself in the story of his best friend falling in love – with your best friend, no less.

“And then she quit her job, I’m sure you know. Started working up at that movie theater – more shitty, oily food, just popcorn instead of fries this time.” He laughs again. “Nobunaga went crazy over that, you know, thinking that maybe she wanted to work in a more intimate setting like that so that he could sneak her off into some abandoned theater and get some one-on-one quality time, if you know what I mean.”

You grimace, at both the implications of his last statement and the mention of Stacy quitting. You know exactly why she’d quit – it was the whole reason you’d been staying at her place, really. She was convinced she had a stalker, that there was this crazy man who used to bother her at the diner and follow her home. It’d scared her, obviously, and she’d requested – with a guilty look and fiddling thumbs – if you’d be willing to spend the next few nights are her place with her, because maybe if there was more than one person home he wouldn’t get gutsy and break in. Of course you’d agreed, believing her fully and not wanting to leave her alone to deal with this crazed freak.

Although now, you’re starting to regret that decision just a bit.

“As I’m sure you know, it didn’t change much. Pretty stupid, to be honest – if a stalker’s that dedicated, how the hell is a change of occupation going to change anything? Chick’s pretty dumb, if you ask me.” He shrugs, and although you can’t see it through your blindfold, you’re sure his face is awfully apathetic about the whole situation. “She was ignoring him, refusing to serve him at the theater, reporting him to her manager, even calling the police and getting a description of him circulating. She was going to get a restraining order against him, even – again, like that’d do shit.”

He snorts, and you bite into the gag harder.

Sighing, he looks up at the ceiling. “See, that’s the thing about Nobunaga. He might seem a little lazy sometimes, but he’s got a heart of gold when it comes to the ones he cares about. He’d do anything for that woman – steal for her, kill for her, anything at all. He’s a sap, totally obsessed with the chick, but it’s kind of sweet in a way, I guess. Means he really cares about her. Isn’t that funny? Her stalker really is in love with her.”

You don’t find it particularly funny, but you can’t say much.

“Anyways, the police finally got a sighting of him last night. Went through the system pretty fast – I’m a little impressed, to be honest. Normally takes those bastards much longer to process things. Regardless, a few too many sirens were going last night, even a few cars parked outside the apartment he’s been squatting in, yelling his name in those big, gaudy megaphones of theirs. Caused a real stir, and sent the guy into a panic.”

He takes a moment to breath, tapping his foot lightly on the ground. “So what does he do? He calls me, in the middle of the night, talking so fast that I can’t even understand the guy. All I’m hearing is Stacy this, Stacy that, police and blah blah blah recognized. I had to force the words out of him before it made any sense, the idiot.” That same laugh rattles in your ears.

“Eventually I got him to be coherent, and he told me that he had to ‘make his move’, whatever the hell that meant. Said he couldn’t wait anymore, that he had to take Stacy and run – the police were coming, and even though it’s not hard to take out a couple of poorly trained guys, it’s still a pain in the ass and Shizuku’s not here to clean up his mess.

“Anyways, he starts begging me – literally, actually pleading with me, imagine that – to come and help him out. He told me there’s this other chick at her place – some girl she’s been keeping around for some unknown reason, and he needs someone to take care of the body.” Your blood goes cold, fear suddenly creeping back up your throat.

Was he going to kill you? Why was he bothering to tell you all this if he was just planning on slicing open your neck? Did he find some sick pleasure in prolonging your death?

He notices your discomfort, it seems, because soon he’s rolling his eyes, scoffing at you. “Calm down. You’re such a bad actor – can’t even see your face, really, and I know you’re scared shitless now. I’m not going to kill you, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

You calm slightly, but not much.

“As I was saying, there’s this girl he needs me to take care of – a quick death, nothing too flashy, which makes me immediately ask why the hell he’d request me of all people, when every time I kill it’s messy. It’s kind of my trademark, you know?”

You didn’t, and you hoped it’d stay that way.

He sighs again. “Anyways, I head on over to Stacy’s apartment, meeting Nobunaga outside and listening to him run down the plan. He’s going to run inside and knock her out, pulling her out of bed and running off to God knows where he’s got all set up for the two of them. And while he’s busy doing that, I’m supposed to head in and eliminate the friend. Seemed easy enough, if not a bit tedious, so I agree and we head inside, keeping mind of the sirens still in the distance.

“Everything’s going smoothly, except once we get the front door open, it becomes very clear that Nobunaga was stupid and panicked and didn’t bother to doublecheck if Stacy was actually asleep.” He pauses to sigh dramatically, like it’s some big annoyance. “She’s fully awake, standing about ten feet away from the door, and then she starts fucking screaming.”

You remember that bit – the screaming, that is, because it had woken you up from your slumber on Stacy’s couch. Everything is still blurry after that, disorientation fogging your brain from being so abruptly woken up.

“She’s yelling and screeching, and if Nobunaga hadn’t been there I probably would’ve killed her myself just to get her to shut the fuck up. She’s got one of those high, shrill, shrieky voices, you know? The kind that really drive me up the wall - it’s damn annoying.” He pauses, looking at you skeptically. “Hope you haven’t got one of those, things’ll get messy real quick if you do.”

You hope you don’t, either.

“He rushes forward and tries to grab her, but she swats at him and, get this, manages to punch him in the dick.” He laughs aloud at that, slapping his knee and throwing his head back. “This weak-ass girl manages to get him on the ground flat, stupid ass’s hands clutching at his dick, and what does she do in the meantime? She runs over to the couch, grabbing this girl and staring back at me like I’m some monster.”

You make a noise through the gag, but Uvogin ignores it.

“I’ve gotta hand it to Stacy, though, she’s got guts. She starts yellin’ at us about how she won’t let us kill the girl, how she’ll kill herself before she lets us get our hands on her, and immediately Nobunaga crumbles. I don’t know why the idiot didn’t think of the possibility earlier, but he totally freezes up when she threatens that, just gaping like a fish. It was pretty awkward for me, to be honest, because watching him get so thoroughly rejected was giving me serious second hand embarrassment. I mean, the chick literally said she’d rather kill herself than let Nobuanga take her – pretty harsh if you ask me.”

He looks back at your covered face, letting his gaze linger on the edges of the blindfold. “So he panics and gives into her demand, telling her he won’t kill her friend – says that he’ll just take her too, so that way everyone’s happy.”

He frowns a bit at you, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, everyone except you, probably. And except Stacy, too, probably. And except me. So really, Nobunaga’s the only happy one.”

Your face would sour if it was able to.

“Anyways, it wasn’t hard to knock them both out and bring ‘em to their respective holding places. I’ve got no clue where the hell Nobunaga’s keeping his chick, but I’m sure you’ve figured out that you’re Stacy’s little friend.”

You nod, slowly, the movement limited by your restraints. Your wrists have gone numb and your ankles feel bruised and sore, the ropes keeping them pinned the legs of the chair making blood flow difficult.

“So, what to do with you now.” His voice is wistful, like he’s actually contemplating, and that same familiar fear washes over you again.

He groans, the chair skidding out behind him as he stands to his full height. “Would you quit it with the fear? I already told you I’m not killing you, are you even listening to me?”

You nod again, faster this time.

Uvogin sighs, shuffling forward towards you. You can hear him approaching, and although your shoulders stiffen up, you try not to look as terrified as you feel. It doesn’t seem to work all that well, but he spares you another comment about it.

Soon the blindfold is ripped off your head, leaving your hair messy and out of place, your eyes squinting and blinking rapidly to adjust to the rather bright white light hanging over you and what you can now see is an absolute behemoth of a man.

He’s fucking huge – towering over you in every sense of the word, muscles practically bulging out of his body with how defined and massive they are. Black hairs cover every inch of his body you can see, even his arms and especially the bits of chest peeking out of his white top. Ragged, unruly hair sweeps down to his shoulders, making the muscles of his neck look even firmer, and you gulp. Any chance of escaping has basically left you now – there’s no way in hell you could ever beat that, especially if he’d already managed to kidnap you once.

He clears his throat and your gaze is brought up to his face, a small, strange wave of embarrassment flooding through you as you realize you’ve been caught staring. He’s smirking, though, and you take in the sharp line of his jaw, the thick, dark eyebrows that frame equally dark eyes. He’s attractive, in a strange, rugged sort of way, and you immediately feel sick at the thought.

“You like what you’re seein’?” He teases, and you immediately look away, still unable to reply with the gag covering your mouth.

He laughs, and sets his hands on his lips. “Well, looks like you’re stuck with me. Before you freak out, I can’t kill you because that damn Stacy really seems to care about you, and she’s told Nobunaga she’ll kill herself if she doesn’t get regular proof that you’re still alive.”

A flame of hope ignites in your chest, and internally you thank Stacy, even if this whole situation is less than ideal.

He seems to sense your sudden upturn in mood, chuckling with a condescending lilt. “Oh no, princess, that doesn’t mean I’m letting you go. No, you’ve gotta stay put, because now that you know what I look like, you’ll go to the cops and report me as fast as those little legs of yours can manage.”

You shake your head at that, eyes glistening with tears as he shuts down your last hope of escaping. Please, you internally beg him, hoping he’ll somehow be able to sense this too. I won’t, I promise!

His gaze narrows at you, before that same smirk is back. “I’m sure if you could talk you’d be telling me how you’ll never tell a soul, but you and I both know that’s bullshit. So I’ll save us both some time and keep you here, so that I don’t have to track you down again and lock you back up once you’ve just gotten free.”

You visibly deflate, and if Uvogin had been a kinder man, he would’ve almost felt bad for you. But instead, he just hums, crouching down in front of you. Even squatting he’s still taller than you, and it does nothing to make you feel less scared.

“Now listen up, here are the rules. I’m a pretty nice guy, all things considered, so don’t break my rules and I won’t break your bones.”

Your eyes get wide, but you nod along. He smiles, patting your knee.

“That’s good, see? You’re already doing better than that Stacy girl, at least you’re not fighting me every step of the way.” Something about his statement makes guilt eat away at your chest – are you supposed to be fighting more? There doesn’t really seem to be a point – this man is massive, and you’re all bound and unable to move. You’re doing the best you can, right?

“First,” He holds up a finger, “don’t even bother trying to escape. I’m bigger than you, faster than you, stronger than you, and smarter than you. There’s nothing you can try that I won’t see through, and you’ll end up regretting it more than you can imagine.

“Second, no trying to hurt yourself. Nobunaga will kill me if I let you die, and it’d be a pain to deal with him.” He fixes you a stern look, and you nod.

“Third, don’t go digging through my shit. I’m doing my buddy a favor by keeping you here, and if I find you snooping around… He didn’t say anything about roughing you up a bit, and it might be good for Stacy to see you with some bruises or a cast or two.” His threat doesn’t go unheard, and you nod again, throat bobbing as you swallow.

He stares at you for a moment more, gaze calculating and judging whether you’ve really accepted his conditions, before strong fingers come up to untie the knot keeping your gag in place.

“Don’t you scream, I’ll have to shut you up if you do.” He warns, before pulling the fabric away. Immediately you’re flexing your jaw, the muscle aching as you move it, and he watches with a neutral expression. You’re still tied up, unable to move really, and Uvogin gets a fleeting thought of how pitiful you look.

“Um,” You start, your voice a bit hoarse from being so dry and unused for the last few hours. “What’s your name?”

He blinks, before laughing a bit. “Of all the questions you could’ve asked, all the things you could’ve said and done as soon as you woke up from learning you’ve been kidnapped, and that’s what you chose? Shit, you wouldn’t survive in the wild, would you?”

Shame creeps up your neck at his belittlement, but before you can defend yourself he’s answering. “It’s Uvogin.”

You nod, not willing to look at him. It’s silent for a few moments, before he sighs again and reaches forward to untie the rope shackling your ankles and wrists. As soon as you’re free, you try to stretch out your limbs, keeping a weary eye on the man – Uvogin.

What a stupid name.

“Well, the fact that you’re not screaming your head off is a promising sign. Get up, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.” He orders, already taking off towards the door in the corner of the small room. You try to follow him, but your legs aren’t moving right, and it takes you a while to make your way over there. He looks irritated at your lack of speed, but says nothing, only holding open the door until you make your way through.

You’re led down into a rather sparse apartment, only furnished with a single gray couch against one wall (with a few stains on it that make you wince a bit), a TV and some cabinets, a wooden table and two chairs, and a beat-up fridge in the adjoining kitchen. Everything’s clean, but the space lacks any sort of personality, and it makes you uncomfortable.

“That’s your bed, extra blankets are in the closet. If you need anything tell me, and I might snag it for you next time I’m out on a job.” Something about the way he says ‘snag’ makes you nervous, so you just mutter a small affirmation.

He gives you one last glance over, his eyes once again lingering on your chest, before stepping through the doorway.

“Wait, Uvogin!” Your voice, a bit wobbly and unsure, makes him turn back, his brow cocked and curiosity dancing on his features. (And a bit of surprise, too, because he hadn’t expected you to say anything to him, or even use his name. Maybe you weren’t as skittish and weak as you seemed – though, he doubted that.)

“Um, is it possible for me to see Stacy soon?” You asked, voice growing smaller with every word. He blinks, before standing up a bit straighter.

“Actually, you’re in luck. Nobunaga called me about an hour ago and let me know we’re meeting up in a few days – he said it would be good for Stacy to have a ‘playdate’ with you. Whatever the fuck that means.” Uvogin shrugs, looking entirely uninterested, and you bristle at Nobunaga’s choice of words. Poor Stacy.

Excitement brews in your chest; at least you’ll have a familiar face, and hopefully the stranger hasn’t done anything too terrible to your friend. Nodding, you glance back to the floor, wishing the hulking man staring at you would just leave. He does, a few moments later, and only then do you allow yourself to slump onto the bed he’s assigned you. The bedroom is bare like the rest of the home, with a twin bed set in the corner and a small set of drawers sitting nearby. It makes you laugh humorlessly – were you supposed to fill that chest? With what? You hadn’t brought anything with you, and you seriously doubted Uvogin would let you return home to grab some of your clothes.

Sighing, you sat onto the bed, the mattress firm under you. Distantly, some part of you was pleased – at least the bed would be comfortable enough.

Time passes slowly as you sit on the bed – not your bed, not yet. You stare at the wall ahead of you, the fear slowly seeping out of your system until only exhaustion remains. Sleep eventually takes over, and although you try to fight it, you’re slipping into a dreamless slumber before long.

Uvogin’s tolerable, you’ve found. He’s certainly not nice, nor is he an especially great person to be around, but he could be much worse, you suppose. He’s fed you twice daily for however long you’ve been stuck here (it feels like a week, so you’re assuming it is, if only to stave off any self-doubt that’s creeping into the corners of your mind), and the food’s not terrible. It’s clearly takeout, the packaging sometimes even having Chinese characters on it or restaurant logos, and you’ve been mostly satisfied with his choices so far. He’ll sometimes ask you what you want, and while you were too scared to answer the first few times (which only makes him scowl and roll his eyes, muttering a small damn, Nobunaga owes me one), eventually you’d felt safe enough to be honest.

He hasn’t hurt you, either. At least, not yet. You’re aware he could, if he wanted to – those muscles make it hard to forget, and you’d seen him crush his phone in his hand like a bug when a phone call with someone named Franklinwent poorly.

He’s scary, still, but you’ve reached the point now where you aren’t practically hyperventilating every time he enters the room. You still keep him in your field of vision, weary for any sudden changes in his behavior, but every day that passes has you growing more complacent with your position. The constant threat of Stacy potentially facing consequences for your actions doesn’t deter you from being on your best behavior, either.

Besides, sometimes he’s even a little bit funny – not that you’d ever laugh at his jokes, but he has this weird sense of humor that you think you’d like, if the situation had been different. If you’d met him on the street you definitely would’ve tried to cross to the other side, but you would’ve found him oddly charming, his snide remarks and cocky air a bit entertaining.

You try not to think about that, though, because the mere presence of these thoughts means the Stockholm Syndrome is starting to kick in. And while you aren’t the most resilient person on the planet, even you have to admit it’s a bit early for that.

Sighing, you take another bite of the curry he’d brought you, pleasantly surprised that the spice level was perfect. Uvogin didn’t have many rules, it was true, but he did have a few unspoken ones – one of which being that meals, particularly take-out meals, were to be eaten at the small, rickety table. Together, which wasn’t ideal.

“I’ve gotta make sure you don’t try to starve yourself or choke.” He’d told you the first time, grabbing your shoulders and forcing you into the seat across from his, the noodles sitting in front of you still packaged neatly in their container. At first you’d been nervous he would try to poison you, but eventually hunger got the best of you and you were slurping the noodles down, still keeping a nervous eye on the hulking man in front of you.

“So, big news.” He starts, taking a bite out of his chicken. He always took big bites, you’d noticed, but he ordered enough food that even if his pace was twice as fast as yours, he never finished before you.

You glance up at him, trying not to let toomuch curiosity show on your face, but he seems to realize anyway.

“I know you haven’t been up to much, but don’t make your excitement so obvious. Hurts my feelings to know you think I’m so boring.” He’s joking, you think, and to sate him you attempt to smile.

“Nobunaga called me again this morning; today’s the day.”

You practically choke on your food, eyes blowing wide and your hands beginning to shake. Finally, finally you’d be able to see Stacy – you’d been worried sick about her the last week or so, terrified that her transition to the life of being a captive hadn’t gone as smoothly as your own. (You snorted bitterly at that – smooth probably wasn’t the best word for how you’d been feeling, but at least you hadn’t been hit yet, or assaulted or any number of things. Hopefully Nobunaga wasn’t any worse of a person than your own captor.)

Uvogin is watching you, you realize, with a strange look in his eye. As soon as you glance up at him you look away again, clearing your throat and trying to keep your voice even as you ask, “That’s good, it’ll be nice to see her again.”

It’s silent for a moment, before his booming laugh makes you wince a bit. “Yeah, I’m sure you are. Finish up, I don’t like wasting food. Once you’re done we’ll head out - try to not to choke.”

He says that right as you start shoveling the food into your mouth, hoping that eating quicker will mean you can see Stacy quicker. He chuckles at you, but you follow his orders and slow down a bit. He throws you one more glance, that cocky smile on his lips, before digging into his own food again.

He’s eating a bit faster than normal, too, you notice.

He apologizes with an insincere tone as he ties the blindfold back on you (he’d told you that you can’t know where you are just in case you decide to get rebellious and run away), and soon you’re stuffed into a car. Everything’s hard to keep track of when you can’t see, but Uvogin’s talking (like normal), so you try to tune into the sound of his voice to help the time pass.

“Now listen, you might not wanna touch her too much, Nobunaga’s a bit…” He trails off, and you can hear his hand tightening on the steering wheel. “Possessive. You’re her friend and all, and I’m sure he won’t hurt you, especially not in front of her, but be careful.”

You nod, absentmindedly.

“Also, don’t be too surprised if she doesn’t look the way she used to. He was always going on about how she was dressed too inappropriately in her day-to-day life, so she might be a little underdressed.”

He’d hesitated to say underdressed, and you tried not to think about what that could mean.

It’s quiet for a few moments, and you shift in the car seat. He’d let you sit in the front, an unexpected luxury, but you didn’t like that he could see you while you couldn’t see him. He wouldn’t hurt you, you were mostly confident of that now, but who knew what he had planned.

�� “We’re almost there. If things go badly, I’ll get you out of there. You’re pretty damn weak, a broken bone would probably take a few weeks for you to heal. I don’t want to deal with you being injured, and I’m sure you don’t, either.”

Your lips must’ve given away your fear, because a moment later he’s sighing. “Did you know that you practically reek your emotions? I feel like I can smell ‘em, even when I can’t even see half your damn face.”

You don’t have anything to say to that, but you force yourself to speak anyway, not wanting to dignify his last comment. “Do you think – well, do you think Nobunaga will want to hurt me?”

Uvogin ponders your question for a moment, surprised that you’d spoken up. You hadn’t done much talking in the time he’d had you – he was sure it was because you were scared, but it was nice to hear you talking to him like you weren’t scared shitless of him. Even if you had every reason to be so terrified.

“Honestly, probably. Especially if you touch her.”

You suck in a breath, and Uvogin hums. “But it’s not going to happen.”

“What do you mean?”

You could practically hear his toothy grin.

“It’s my job to protect you, right? So I will. Even if the one you need protecting from is the same guy who wants you to be protected.”

Something in his tone gives you the impression he means those words more than he’s letting on, and you shiver as you imagine just who this Nobunaga guy could possibly be.

“Oh my god, oh my god – you’re alive! Thank god!” Stacy sobs, arms wrapping around you like a vice before you can even respond. You clutch her back just as tightly, burying your face into her brown curls, a few tears pricking at your eyes. You’d been nervous that Nobunaga would’ve hurt her, with the way Uvogin was describing him, but after a thorough look-over, you find no bruises or marks marring her olive skin.

Eventually she pulls back, but keeps her hands firmly grasping your shoulders. Her eyes are red with tears, and her lower lip is wobbling. She’s not hurt, but she looks bad – there’s heavy bags under eyes and her hair is frazzled, her lips look swollen and she’s clutching onto you hard. Really hard.

“Stacy, are you hurt?” You ask, letting your hands cup her cheeks. You see Nobunaga – who Uvogin had pointed out with a small that’s the guy when you’d walked in – stiffen up at that, and Uvogin’s warning flashes through your mind. You might not want to touch her. Right.

Stacy glances over at her captor, and you follow her gaze, only to see Uvogin give you a small nod and drag his friend out the door by the collar of his purple kimono, calling over his shoulder that they’ll be back in exactly five minutes, and that they’ll know if you try to escape.

As soon as the door closes, Stacy pulls you in for another hug, the words flying out of her mouth so quickly you can barely understand her. “He’s – Nobunaga, he’s horrible. He never leaves me alone, and he treats me like I’m some incompetent little baby, and he’s always touching me and I just – I can’t –“

You cut her off by pressing her face into your neck again, rubbing the back of her head and letting her cry. You’re crying too, now, but your tears fall silently compared to her sobbing.

You don’t say much, because what can you say? It would be a lie to tell her that everything’s going to be okay, and every other reassurance that dances on the tip of your tongue just feels wrong, like you’d be pointedly lying to her. Instead, you let her get it out, her grip on you never loosening. You’d known Nobunaga had been the root of all her anxieties the last few months, long before he’d gotten the gall to kidnap her. And while you were happy that she wasn’t hurt, it still pained you to see her like this.

Eventually she’d calmed down, and you feel her pull back and wipe at her sniffling nose. “I’m so sorry.” She whispers to you, looking like she’s on the verge of crying again. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this mess, I should’ve just gone quietly and left you alone. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay with me for a few weeks, now you’re really stuck with that monster.”

You don’t tell her that it’s okay, because it’s not. Some part of you is still bitter and resentful towards her for involving you, because she’s right. You could be still living your life if she hadn’t requested you to help deter her stalker from making a move. But despite your anger, you can’t find it in yourself to hate her. Not when she’s like this – not when she’s probably experiencing something even worse than you.

“It doesn’t matter now, all that matters is that we’re both alive, and we’re both okay. Or, at least, okay as we can be, given the situation.” You tell her, smiling softly. She blinks at you, eyes wide and vulnerable, before nodding and swallowing.

“Yeah, I was worried that you wouldn’t be, with the way Nobunaga was talking about Uvogin.” Her voice was hoarse still, and you laughed humorlessly at that.

“Yeah, well, he hasn’t hurt me yet, so I think I’ll be okay. He mostly just ignores me, honestly, so I guess I’m lucky.” Your attempt at optimism doesn’t make Stacy smile like you’d hoped. Rather, her lips pull into a frown and her eyebrows furrow.

“He ignores you? That doesn’t make sense.”

You expression mirrors hers. “What? I mean, the only reason I got kidnapped too was insurance so that you wouldn’t kill yourself –“

Stacy’s face morphs into one of horror, and her grip on your shoulders goes slack.

Quickly you’re backpedaling, worried the mention of her self-imposed death might’ve triggered something you wanted to avoid. “I’m not saying it’s your fault, I totally understand why you –“

“Alright, time’s up.” Nobunaga’s voice interrupts, and knuckly hands are suddenly on your shoulders, pushing you aside so that Nobunaga can stand in front of Stacy. You stumble back, falling backwards against Uvogin’s hard chest, immediately standing up straight.

Nobunaga’s cupping Stacy’s chin, and you can see from this angle the way he smiles, a slight pink color flooding his cheeks. It makes you sick, and the pained look on Stacy’s face only makes your gut sink more. She’s looking at you still, and something about the way her brows are cocked inward that makes you feel like she’s almost pitying you.

“Did you miss me, baby?” Nobunaga’s cooing down at her, and it makes your skin crawl. Uvogin sighs from behind you and grabs your wrist, dragging you out of the room. His grip is surprisingly gentle, and as you watch Stacy slowly fade from your view, you can’t help but be slightly grateful that at least your captor isn’t leaning down for a kiss like hers.

The car ride home is mostly quiet, and it’s not until you’re nearing the end of your time in the vehicle that Uvogin breaks the silence.

“So, what did you talk about while we were gone? Girly shit?” You think he’s attempting a joke, but you can’t even pretend to laugh at it.

“She’s not happy.” You comment, voice slightly flat, and Uvogin snorts at your words.

“Of course she’s not happy, she’s just been kidnapped. And by her stalker, no less – would anyone be happy? Hell, are you happy?” He asks you, and you blanch at his question. Somehow, though, it feels like some sort of trap, so you stay quiet.

He doesn’t say anything more until he’s pulling you out of the car, your footsteps hesitant and clumsy because he’d put that damn blindfold on you again. He guides you up to the apartment, and soon you’re standing in the living room area, the fabric falling from your eyes.

“I’ve got some errands to run today, so I’ll be gone for a while. Do you want anything while I’m out?” He asks, standing in front of the door with his arms crossed. You’re a bit touched that he’s offering to get you something, but you try not to focus on it. Of course you’re feeling grateful for him – he may be holding you captive, yes, but at least he hasn’t tried to kiss you or touch you. Poor Stacy didn’t share your luck.

“Um, maybe some chips? I don’t care what flavor, just something crunchy…” You trail off, looking at him nervously. You’d never requested anything before, and some part of you is convinced he’d only asked you the question to laugh in your face and deny you.

He cracks a smile and nods, hand already on the doorknob. “Okay. Okay, but you’d better be prepared to share, because I happen to be a big chip fan myself. So don’t get greedy, yeah?”

You half-smile, rubbing at your arm. “Yeah, I won’t be.”

He steps out the door, and once again the apartment is silent, his presence gone and all movement within the room gone, too.

The TV won’t work for you, you know that, but you’re still trying to get it to behave. Uvogin had to type in some password every time he turned it on, and it was too long and encoded for you to ever be able to decipher it. Still, you were clicking the power button of the remote over and over, hoping against hope that it would somehow short circuit and bypass that password screen. When it didn’t, you only sighed, rising to your feet and wandering towards the monitor.

Uvogin, you’d learned, was surprisingly meticulous – surprisingly organized, really. Meaning there was a chance he’d written down the password to the TV and had it stored somewhere. He’d only been gone for about a half hour, if the clock was any indication, and you had a lot of time to kill before he returned home. Not that he was your only source of entertainment – though, you’d read the single book he owned three times already.

Your knees crack as you kneel down in front of the cupboard the TV was sitting on, the wooden doors creaking as they open. The shelves are mostly empty – a few older remotes, and a cable channel guide.

Frustrated, you huff and let your shoulders slump, trying to decide what to do next. The TV obviously wasn’t planning on cooperating, though there was a cupboard right next to the one you’re searching through that could potentially hold the answer.

Uvogin’s rules distantly float through your mind, his gruff voice replaying in perfect clarity. Third, don’t go digging through my shit. Glancing back up the clock, you bite your lip. You had time, because while he was massive and huge and scary, there was no way he could get all his errands done in just thirty minutes.

With a deep breath, you move over to the other cabinet, letting your fingers curl around the knob. The doors don’t creak when they open, and immediately you’re scanning the shelves. These ones are full – with boxes, each labeled with a date on them. Cocking a brow, you examine the dates. January 4th – January 25th, April 29th – May 7th, and so on.

Intrigued, you slowly slide out one of the boxes, noticing not a single bit of dust is sitting on the cover. He must use this cabinet much more often than the one you’d been searching through previously, as a thick layer of dust had sprung up in your face the moment you opened the cabinet door.

The box itself is light, but you still set it down in front of you, your fingers delicate and careful, too worried that you’ll break something if you press too hard. And then Uvogin would know, surely, especially if he truly used this cabinet that often.

Slowly, you take off the box’s cover, and immediately your brows are scrunching together. What the hell?

When you’d imagined the kind of ‘shit’ Uvogin didn’t want you to snoop through, you hadn’t pegged it to be this. Whatever this was, that is.

It looked like a box full of receipts – tons of pieces of paper, all in weird sizes or shapes that looked like they were ripped out of some sort of notebook. The handwriting is messy, the letters all crammed together and difficult to decipher. You pick the paper on top up, turning it this way and that, trying to read the text.

Her: Sorry, I know it’s late, but I need to ask you a quick question.

Them: Yeah? What’s up?

Her: Do you think he’s alright? Chris, I mean – he hasn’t called me back for a few days, and I’m worried about him.

Them: You know Chris, it always takes him a while to respond. I wouldn’t worry, he’s just unpredictable.

Her: Yeah, I guess…

�� [6 second pause]

Them: Go to sleep, it’s late. You’ve got work in the morning, right?

Her: Yeah, I do. Okay, okay, I’m getting into bed now. Goodnight.

Them: Goodnight, call me when you hear back from him.

Her: Okay.

What was this? The ambiguity of it all confused you – who was her? Them? Chris?

You furrowed your brows, confusion sitting in your gut alongside a strange feeling. The hairs at the back of your neck prickled up, and a small pang of unease bolted through you.

Setting the piece of paper back into the bin, you picked up another one. This one was shorter, more to the point.

Her: Are we still on for Friday night?

Them: Yeah! Freddy’s, nine o’clock sharp. I’m buying, remember.

Her: You always say that, and you always get too shit faced to pay. Liar!

Them: Hey, I just know how to have fun! You could learn how to do that, you know.

Her: Yeah yeah, okay, I’ll see you later.

Your fingers are shaking as you finish reading the small, triangular slip of paper. Your lips are slightly parted, brows still crunched together. Something about the interaction between Her and Them felt oddly familiar – like something you’d heard before.

And the mention of Freddy’s. That’d been the name of a bar you frequented often with your friends, back before everything had gone to shit with Stacy.

Unnerved, you set the piece of paper back in the box and slide the box into its place on the shelf, running your eyes back over the listed date. August 28th – September 16th. One of your best friend’s birthdays was in that range.

Wiping your palms on your thighs, you try to calm the pounding of your heart. Something feels off, wrong in a way you can’t quite place. Surely, Freddy’s is a common enough name; it doesn’t necessarily mean your favorite bar. Plus, even if it does mean that particular bar, who knew who these people were. You surely don’t - who the hell is Chris?

Wanting to put some distance between you and the cabinet, you get to your feet again and close it, wandering away into the little hallway connecting the living space, bathroom and two bedrooms. Cupping some water in your hands from the bathroom sink, you splash your face, letting the cold wash over your skin. Closing your eyes, you try to calm down. It doesn’t mean anything – how could it? You’re probably just all shaken up after seeing Stacy and her freaky captor. Nobunaga disturbed you, you can’t deny it.

Sighing, you open your eyes, wiping your face with your towel. (Uvogin had been kind enough to give you one designated as your own, saving you from the horrible fate of having you dry your body with a towel that he’d already used.) Though you notice with a small start that the towel is wet, despite you not having showered recently. Odd.

As you turn to leave the room, you notice a shirt sitting piled up in the corner. It was black, and surely not your own – holding it up, it looked big enough to dwarf you. Must be Uvogin’s, then.

His bedroom is across from your own, and while you haven’t been inside it yet, it feels wrong to just leave his shirt on the floor, where it could get dirty and maybe even moldy. Besides, doing a little cleaning would keep you occupied – both from boredom, and from contemplating those weird slips of paper further.

You slowly open the door, immediately getting hit with a wave of musk. Uvogin normally smelled decent, but the scent in here is strong enough to make you wince a bit, the overwhelming stench of sweat, mint, and male making you a bit nauseous. To your surprise, the room is spotless – a very, very large bed sits floated in the middle, a navy and black flannel comforter covering the top while a few large, puffy pillows sit at attention at the head. A few pairs of boots are lined up in the corner, and a single picture looks to be taped up on the wall above them. Curiously, you step forward, moving towards the photo.

Uvogin had told you very little about himself – only that he worked as a contractor, of sorts, and that he didn’t have too many friends, so you wouldn’t have to worry about visitors. But now that you’re looking at the photo, you’re wondering if maybe that last statement hadn’t been so true – the photo is of a dozen or so people, all posing for the camera with various degrees of a smile on their face. Uvogin’s in the back, on the left side, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of a shorter blond man, his blue eyes in a wink and holding up his thumb. Uvogin’s smiling, and as you scan the photo, you stop when you hit Nobunaga, who’s seated in the front row next to a woman with big glasses and a modified cross necklace. Everyone looks happy, and briefly you wonder whether Uvogin considers these people friends. He must, if Nobunaga’s present – an odd sort of satisfaction worms its way into your chest at the thought. You don’t like Uvogin, surely not – but still, everyone needs friends, right? Even kidnappers.

God, you really are starting to develop Stockholm Syndrome.

Shaking your head to try and clear the thoughts, you approach his closet and snag a hanger, trying to hang up the shirt you’re holding in your arms. The thing is tall, and as you try to get the hanger’s hook to wrap over the metal bar, your eyes fall to the side, noticing something out of the corner of your vision.

It’s a soft pink, and you cock a brow. Uvogin? Owning something pink?

Eventually, and with a soft grunt, you get the hanger to successfully sit onto the bar, and immediately you’re investigating the pink thing. This goes directly against his rules, you know – you’re quite literally snooping, but hopefully he’d still be out for longer. Besides, even if he comes back, you could just tell him you’re putting away his shirt, and maybe he wouldn’t call you on your half-lie.

Whatever the thing is, it’s wedged pretty far back in the closet – you’d only managed to catch a brief glimpse of it, and for good reason. There’s a storage container in the back of the closet, an organizer of sorts with some compartments that all seem to be stuffed full. It’s hard to see, the overhead light dim to begin with and not penetrating too deeply into the dark closet, but you’re able to fish out the pink fabric soon enough.

It's lace, you realize, your curiosity only doubling. That same pin-prickly feeling is back, and as you slowly flatten out the cloth, your breath catches.

It’s a thong. Pink and lacy, with a bow decorating the back, right over the tailbone.

But more than that, the thong looks familiar. There’s a thread pulled on the front right side, and a stain on the fabric at the very bottom, looking awfully similar to the color your own discharge makes once it’s been washed.

Your fingers are shaking again, and you stumble back a bit, the back of your knees catching onto the bed so that you fall back and land on your ass, too busy staring at the cloth in your hands to bother trying to situate yourself.

These panties are yours.

You’re sure of it – you know because Stacy bought them for you a few months ago. She’d cheekily handed them to you with a big, gaudy bow on top, a wink sent your way and a demure because I know you’ve got a date tonight, and I also know you haven’t gotten laid in way too long. That was the night you’d been set up on a blind date with a friend’s coworker. He’d been nice, though you hadn’t slept with him, and you hadn’t gone out again after that. He didn’t seem all that interested in you as a romantic pursuit, but he was funny, and you’d hoped you could become friends, at least.

And his name was Chris. And he’d gone missing a few days after.

You drop the panties, a hand coming up to cover your mouth.

You don’t want to, and you know you shouldn’t, but before you can stop yourself you’re rushing forward to the closet, digging back to that storage compartment and rooting around for anything else you can find. It must be a coincidence; it has to be a coincidence. These can’t be your panties, you must be mistaken – why would Uvogin have these? How could he have these? You’d lost them in the laundry a while back.

At least, that’s what you’d assumed.

Pulling your hand back, you see you’ve grabbed a few items. They’re smaller, not clothing, but nonetheless incriminating. There’s a chapstick container, with a strange flavor on it that you’ve only seen once, back when you won it in some weird fundraising fair you’d been at for your job. Kiwi banana grape, it said in curling black lettering, and when you pop open the top, you notice it’s almost completely empty.

There’s also a button; it’s black with a strange shape, one you recognize as being from your favorite jacket. It’d fallen off one day, but you’d been too busy walking around the city to have realized. It was a real bummer, because it’d rendered the jacket unwearable because too big a draft would sneak through it.

And lastly, there’s a bandaid – it’s old, you can tell, with a kiddy pattern of some fairies and a dinosaur on it that the nurse had apologized for having to use, telling you it was all they had available at the time. You remembered it – it’d made you laugh that you’d gotten your flu shot and she’d patched it up with a bandaid designed for six year olds, even going so far as to snap a photo and send it in the group chat you kept with your friends.

You feel sick.

Throwing the small items back into the compartment, you rush to the bathroom, barely making it before you’re heaving, all the curry you’d forced down your throat earlier coming right back up.

What the fuck?

Who was Uvogin? Why did he have all of this? How did he have all of this? What did it mean? Your head’s rushing, too many thoughts and implications swimming through your oversaturated mind, and you have just barely enough strength to flush the toilet and stand up, staring at yourself in the mirror.

Stacy’s words rush back to you as you examine your face, seeing your wide eyes and the way your chest is rising and falling with each harsh breath slipping through your lips. He ignores you? That doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense – none of it at all. Why would your by-association captor have any of your personal items? Especially personal items you’d lost or thrown away literal months ago, long before you’d ever started staying over at Stacy’s?

You know why, you just don’t want to admit it, and as you stare at yourself in the mirror, you try to come up with any other possible explanation. No. It can’t be. Stacy’s the one with the creepy stalker, not me.

Suddenly, the sound of the front door’s lock clicking open makes you snap up, adrenaline suddenly coursing through your veins. Uvogin’s home.

Immediately you’re running to your bed, jumping under the covers and shutting your eyes tightly, praying that Uvogin will think you’re asleep and won’t bother you. You need more time to figure this out – it’s all too much, and while it probably won’t be any easier the longer you wait, you need something.

You can’t look at him yet. You won’t.

“I got your chips! Didn’t know which flavor to choose, so I got three I think you might like. I’m serious, though, you have to share. I’m an animal, and I will steal your food.” He laughs at that, and you hear him set down the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. Your eyes are still closed so tightly that it hurts, and you ball your fists up in the blankets as hard as you can. You’d curled up into a fetal position, and you force yourself to stay still as you hear his loud footsteps coming down the hall.

He calls your name, peeking his head into every room he passes. Soon he sees you in your bed, and although you look a little stiff, his shoulders immediately lose their tension. A smile flits across his lips, and he slowly, quietly shuts the door, retreating back to his own room.

You sigh, peeling open your eyes and trying to get your breathing under control. You’d been holding your breath, and now that he’s actually home in the apartment, it’s difficult to not let yourself panic.

It becomes much, much more difficult when you hear a noise come from his bedroom, though. What the hell’s this?

There’s a muffled curse, and your blood runs cold as quick, heavy footsteps lead right up to your door. He swings it open and your eyes fly shut, trying desperately in vain to appear like you’re still sleeping.

“Wake the fuck up.” He says, and immediately you open your eyes, your fear too strong to ignore. He’s holding the pink panties in his hands, and you realize with a small burst of terror that in your haste to get to the bathroom, you’d left them on the floor. In his room. Right where he can see that they’ve been moved.

Fuck fuck fuck.

"I only have three rules. What are they?” He barks, and you’re trying to curl up even smaller, hoping his promise of not hurting you will still ring true. Though, he’s lied about pretty much everything else – how do you know if that part wasn’t all a lie, too?

“No hurting myself, no escaping, and no – no snooping.” You whisper, and Uvogin bares his teeth.

“I’ve been good to you – patient, something that takes a hell of a lot of effort for me. And what do you do in return? You go and do one of the very few things I’ve forbidden.” He looks impossibly tall right now, towering over you with those muscles, the panties looking downright tiny between his monstrous fingers. “Tell me why. Explain to me why the hell you were snooping through my closet.”

You shut your eyes again, too scared to look at him. “I was putting away a shirt you left in the bathroom. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did it, please don’t hurt me, please –“

He interrupts you with a huff, and you tense up, waiting for some blow to land. It doesn’t, though, and after a good thirty seconds, you finally peel an eye open, almost too scared to see what he’s doing.

You don’t expect the small smile that’s sitting on his lips, nor the hand on his hip. He locks his eyes with yours, then sighs. “Well, this is most definitely not the way I wanted you to find out. See, I had this whole plan – Nobunaga came up with it, one of the very few things he’s ever thought of that actually impressed me.”

You’re confused again, but that sick feeling still hasn’t gone away. All you can seem to look at are your panties, wedged in his fist.

“He told me that since you and Stacy were so close, we could cut a deal – kidnap you both at once, get more bang for our buck. There was no way to hide Nobunaga’s feelings for Stacy, sure, but you? Well, you haven’t noticed anyone following you, have you?” Uvogin asks, cocking his head at you and letting his smile get a bit wider.

You quickly shake your head no.

“I’m better at this stuff than he is. He always gets too excited to talk to her, wants to interact and have her lookin’ at him. I get it, I really do. Even now, even with you scared shitless and looking at me like I’m about to kill you, just you acknowledging me is getting me hard as a fucking rock.”

Involuntarily, your eyes dart down to his navel, and with a small, strangled sound of fear, you notice the way there’s a prominent bulge forming in those shorts of his.

He laughs at your change in focus, and steps forward. Hooking a finger under your chin, he smirks down at you. “I’m better at hiding myself, and I was willing to play the long game, content with watching you until the right time came to snatch you up. But when Nobunaga offered, telling me there was a way to get you all to myself and make sure you grew to want me organically? Well, I couldn’t resist, could I?”

You want to tell him he absolutely could’ve, or that you wouldn’t have ‘wanted him organically’, whatever the hell that meant, but your tongue doesn’t seem to be working.

He leans down, face coming closer and closer to yours. “You had no idea, did you? How do you think I knew what kind of mattress to get you? How do you think I knew exactly what to order for you for takeout, even when you were too scared to tell me? How do you think I know what shampoo and conditioner to buy you, or even what kind of fucking cologne you like? Believe me, I’m only wearing this shit for you.”

You’re frozen, unable to move, unable to do anything but stare at him.

“Do you get it now, princess? See, Nobunaga doesn’t give two shits about whether you live or die – he’ll get Stacy to do what he wants no matter what. But me? I give a shit.” He’s so close to you that you can smell his breath. It’s minty, like he’s just recently brushed his teeth. The cold smell only makes you shiver, fear still tingling up your spine.

“Why?” You whisper, overwhelmed at his sudden confession.

He pauses at that, smirk falling away as he genuinely considers your words. He’s quiet for a moment, before he smiles again, but this time it’s not as predatory – there’s something oddly soft about it, and it makes you feel worse.

“Because you’re perfect. That’s all.” He answers like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and before you can say anything he’s clambering on the bed next to you. You want to fight him off, to jump up off the bed and run, but you can’t seem to find the energy to. Besides, you’re not delusional enough to think you could beat Uvogin in any sort of physical altercation or chase. And while he still seemed to be adhering to his promise of not hurting you, you didn’t feel like testing the waters.

“So I guess the jig’s up. I was hoping you wouldn’t find out, but I can work with this, too. At least now I don’t have to act like I don’t know you. And now, I don’t have to do all that respectful distance shit – you’re mine now, babe, and now I don’t have to hide it.” He’s grinning again, his teeth looking too sharp, and before you can blink he’s above you, your wrists pinned above your head and his lips inches away from yours.

“So why don’t I show you just how much your attention the last week’s been affecting me?” His voice is low, sultry, and makes you gulp. He presses his face into your neck, deeply inhaling and groaning. “I promise I can make you feel good… I’ll tell you my last rule, okay?”

You’re frozen, but when he pulls back to glare at you, you shakily mutter out an ‘okay’.

His grin is wolfish, predatory, scary. “Rule number four is no running away from me, even if that cute little body of yours can’t take anymore. Got it?”

You nod.

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere uvogin #_lee's fics #_lee writes for ramwrites #_uvogin #_hxh

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crusty-chronicles · 8 months

Note

is there any chance you could add killua for the airheaded but strong s/o headcanons? If not, then no worries, I just love how you write them!

Yeah, I don't mind but it's gonna be platonic because I'm a little iffy about writing for him romantically. He's just a boy 🥺🥺🥺 This is mostly a crack fic.

BONUS AIRHEADED S/O HEADCANNONS: Killua (HxH)

Honestly tried to kill you at one point

Oh you're strong huh?

Then proceeds to hit you with everything he's got, only to see that it hardly affected you. (Kinda like the way he first treated Zushi)

After that he's petty, but impressed.

Congratulations 🎉🎉🎉 You've earned his respect 🥳🥳🥳

You're basically Gon 2.0

And he hates it

Cannot take you two anywhere

"We should break the lock to get in." Gon suggested.

"Are you stupid?" You scoffed.

"What's the point of having a door if you're just gonna break it?"

And Killua is momentarily at peace that at least one of you has some sense. Until you open your mouth again.

"Obviously we should smash open a window."

And Gon is nodding along enthusiastically

"You're right! What would we do without you 🤩"

And Killua is just 😮‍💨.

He is the parent of the group and I will die on this hill

If Gon's the sun, you're a nuke

He's constantly dragging you away from Hisoka

Nope. Not today

Why do you insist on talking to strangers.

No scratch that.

Why do you insist on talking to creepy strangers????

It gives him a massive headache everytime you almost get abducted.

Honestly thought about putting a tracker on you to avoid this happening.

But then he remembers you're practically indestructible so he drops it.

Is afraid Illumi will come for you and hurt you.

He was never allowed to have friends, and after Illumi threatened you and Gon at the Hunter Exam, he's very protective.

But then he remembers something you said after Greed Island.

"The three of us are all gonna become the best of the best. We're gonna get all wrinkly and old together and still kick butt!!! We're gonna stick together no matter what!"

And it temporarily quells the fear of his brother.

It makes him look forward to that outcome and gives him something to fight a little harder for.

When it comes to fighting, he does get a little envious of how you and Gon just rush in without thinking.

And how you always manage to win despite the circumstance.

But he never feels left behind because of it.

Like with Gon, he won't baby you, just call you an idiot and move on.

You fell?

Get up loser.

You can't read?

Find somebody else to translate. Or he'll make you do it and be laughing nonstop while you struggle to pronounce the word "Apple"

"Gon what color's an orange?"

"An orange is the same color as it's name. Just like a lemon."

Please somebody take you two back to first grade.

Killua is begging.

Even though he won't baby you, he'll rush as fast as he can if you're in actual danger.

You got caught by the phantom troupe?

"Are you completely brain dead!?!!? Where are you!?!?"

Now he regrets not putting a tracker on you.

"This nice clown man gave me candy and told me to follow him." You tell him over CALL.

"HISOOKAAAAA!!!!"

He is screaming and panicking.

You trespassed into the mountains his family lives to see him.

"WHY???? DON'T YOU KNOW ABOUT MIKE!?!?"

And when he gets there he sees you rubbing the monstrous canine's tummy. Petting him and calling him a "Good Boy."

Names he has called you out of spite: Idiot, Moron, Dummy, Psycho, Airhead, Ditz, and probably Pea Brain

On the bright side, you are Alluka's favorite person.

"Give me your ribs."

"Oh, are you hungry? Let's see if we can't find you a smokehouse for those ribs."

And it baffles both souls so much that Nanika accepts that as fulfilling her command.

Plus you have endless amounts of energy that works to drain both girls out. Even when they've both already swapped twice.

Killua designates you her official babysitter when he's busy.

You are a complete lunatic and moron, but you're one of the people he trusts the most.

Even if he does complain about you a lot.

MASTERLIST

#killua x reader #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x y/n #hxh killua #killua zoldyck #hunter x hunter #airhead s/o #stronk s/o #crack fic #x reader #x y/n #platonic

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cat3ch1sm · 2 years

Text

🐸| heyo i have decided to make these random hcs here so yeah lol burnout incoming

hxh- main 4 with an s/o who smokes

ʚ┈┈୨❁୧┈┈ɞ

gon

why are you his age and smoking

gon won't ever really criticize you or put your smoking habit down, but he won't like it and will probably make sure you know that. not in a rude way, and he has nothing against smokers, but he knows it's bad for your health

whenever gon runs into you with a cigarette in between your fingers, he'll sort of make a comment about lung cancer rates or some shit under his breath. don't take it too personally, it's only because he's concerned about you, he loves u nonetheless<33

gon won't try and regulate your smoking himself; he'll let you do what u want. just know he's not a big fan

sometimes, though, gon will ask you to blow a ring of smoke just because it looks cool. he also sort of likes the smell

killua

"Can I try one?" "No."

killua doesn't really give two shits. if you don't care, he doesn't either.

he'll probably steal some from the box every now and then, and later attempt to light one and smoke it himself- but he'll just end up choking and coughing out smoke and you'll be in the corner falling out😭😭

buys you any brand of cigarettes you want- it doesn't matter at all how much it is. you're not about to pay for that shit

when leorio's over, he definitely has you purposely go up to him and blow an obnoxiously large puff of smoke right in his face. it cracks him up every time how leorio just drops to the floor wheezing

however, killua doesn't want you smoking around his sister. at all. not even outside, you'll just have to wait until she's gone

he enjoys taking pictures with you with smoke coming from your mouth and a cigarette in between his teeth- he thinks it makes you guys look cool (although we've already established killua has no clue how to smoke the damn thing)

gon tends to lecture you a lot about the health consequences of smoking whether he realizes he's doing it or not. killua usually just tells him, "We're all just gonna die, anyway- who the hell cares?"

kurapika

he'd really rather you not smoke, honestly. it's bad for your health. but he doesn't do anything to stop you and just mostly lets you do whatever in that context

although, kurapika doesn't want you smoking just before bed. while he actually finds the cigarette smell a little relaxing, he doesn't necessarily want to smell it all night on you.

kurapika doesn't like to entertain your habit, but he has to admit it's very interesting to watch when you blow smoke rings in different shapes. once you managed to snap a picture of him with a heart-shaped smoke ring around his face, and he still has the picture.

kurapika also doesn't like for you to smoke when killua and gon are there. he knows they won't say anything negative, but he'd rather you just not💀 he doesn't want them to get the idea of getting into the habit, especially so young

don't smoke anywhere near the fireplace where the scarlet eyes sit on the mantle. just don't

leorio

he thinks you are the sexiest human being alive when you smoke. 10/10 he does not want you to quit. shoot get lung cancer at least you'll look sexy doing it/j

#gon x reader #gon headcanons #anime #killua headcanons #killua x reader #kurapika headcanons #kurapika x reader #leorio headcanons #leorio x reader #hxh incorrect quotes #hxh memes #hxh fics #hxh headcanons

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novasdarling · 1 year

Text

Piece of Art

Yandere! Chrollo x reader

Tw: Murder, Blood, Kidnapping, Drugging, Restraining(physical), Female Reader

It was already getting late, and the sky was dimming as you entered the museum. Many others joining you, some leaving. It was busy but not as filled as it will be when it opens to the public in a few days. Somehow through work, you'd managed to get VIP tickets to the exhibit. A perk you quite enjoyed with your employer.

Tonight was a small treat for yourself. A new exhibit had opened, and it had been heavily publicized, banners and posters plastered all throughout town. It was displaying paintings and sculptures from hundreds of years ago. Art that hadn't been in the public eye for at least over a century. Many weren't even verified that they existed. All the details that were given were that the gallery was made possible thanks to a private donation.

Making your way to the exhibit, all you could think was how the hell could anyone own all this art. How it was possible to acquire such rare pieces. The money and power they must have had, or still have. To just give away such a collection. Regardless, how did they manage to keep so many pieces hidden, pieces that weren't even confirmed? You were sure they wouldn't reveal it. It was easier for the museum to simply say thank you and make a profit. Something you were in no place to disagree with as you made your way through the doors.

Unsure of where to start, wandering around the exhibit was your best option. A clockwise motion, then working your way to the pieces in the center would guarantee you the ability to see every piece. This wasn't a cheap night, you'd make the most of it. Trying to take time admiring each piece the best you can. Reading every little bit of information they provided. It was interesting to read about the subject's life, about the painter's vision. Or seeing these statues that have been around longer than your country by centuries. It made you feel so small. To see all these pieces that have such a history. To see all those faces that once lived, once smiled. Emorlized in paint and stone. There was one piece that caught your attention. It was one of two women looking at the audience. One covers her face, appearing to be laughing, while the other looks at you with an adorning expression. You could see it now, some man had made an ill attempt at a flirt with the woman more forward. The two find it amusing, trying to stifle a laugh only for the woman behind to fail. A moment you could relate to even though you lived centuries apart. It was fun to try to put stories to things and try to relate to them. Image them having similar problems and stories as you. It made them feel more human, rather than just paint.

"You've been staring at this one for a while." A man's voice was speaking to you. Louder than the others around you. Sounding like it was coming from behind you.

"Oh, sorry, am I in your way?" You began moving off to the side. Letting him see.

Looking back to see who had spoken. The man was tall and looked lean. He was handsome, you couldn't deny that. His hair was a bit wild, almost looked like he cut it at home. It worked on him though. Though his choice of headband was a bit odd, then again this was an art exhibit. They did tend to pull in an interesting crowd.

"No of course not. I was just admiring how you looked at the art."

An embarrassing blush had grown on your cheeks. You didn't realize just how long you had been staring at this one painting. Not catching that another may be noticing it. You didn't know what to do so you stepped to the side and allowed space for the man to come closer to the painting. Smiling as he stepped forwards. He gave you a smile as he looked between you and the art.

"I didn't mean to interrupt." You claimed he was not. Falling over your words as he stared at you. "Good then."

Giving a smile before looking back at the painting. Not expecting the man to continue the conversation. Assuming he had just been polite and wanted you to move.

"I'm Chrollo by the way."

Introducing yourself after a few seconds of pause. Looking him over, you admired his choice of accessories. Blue earrings dangled from his ears and his odd headband wrapped around his forehead. A fashion statement for sure. Along with his feathered coat. These galleries always did tend to invite some intriguing people.

"Why this photo?"

"Sorry?"

"Why has this photo captured you for so long?"

That was a good question. Once you hadn't been prepared to answer to anyone other than yourself. After a few moments, you explained why you had stayed on this one for so long, and how you liked to link these people in the art to yourself. Imagine that even though centuries separate you from them. That you guys could still connect in some ways. Share some similarities. Chrollo grinned as you explained your reasoning. Watching as your face flushed, you seemed embarrassed by your thoughts.

"I never thought to look at them that way." Chrollo smiled, trying to ease you. "Perhaps I should have you as my guide. You could show me a whole new perspective."

It was odd to have someone being so sweet and charming to you. Especially someone you had just met. You couldn't lie, it felt nice to have someone to share your thoughts with. To have somebody who appreciated how you viewed things. To share your beliefs and views. Even if for a few moments, he could think you were interesting.

Chrollo took you around the gallery, asking you again and again to share your thoughts. It felt nice to have someone like him be curious about what you thought. You could have talked all night, and shared every thought. How each piece of art made you feel. Chrollo shared his thoughts too, but he seemed more eager on listening to yours.

The two of you had viewed almost every piece of art. From the paintings to the sculptures. There were still a few left to see. Some of the bigger pieces still had crowds surrounding them.

"It's crazy how these pieces got donated." Turning to him as you spoke. "Imagine being able to collect all of these and just, donate them."

Chrollo nodded, looking at you like you any word that fell from your lips was pure gold. He brought you to another painting. Stating it was a piece he was excited to see and had heard about it for years. There were a few people crowding around the painting, so you two waited.

"It's refreshing that others actually enjoy and value these pieces. You'd be surprised by what I've heard tonight. People talking about how bored they art. How the art is subpar. I even heard some guy begging his girlfriend to go home."

You couldn't help but laugh. Agreeing, it was shameful how some didn't appreciate what was here like you two. Especially since some of these pieces are the first time the public has ever viewed them.

The people had moved, allowing you two to move up. Getting a better view of the painting Chrollo wanted to show you. Both of you stared at it, marvelling at the art before you. It was beautiful. You could see why he liked it so much. The colours, the way everyone in it was painted. It must have taken months to do. Leaning forward, you read the information piece under it to learn who was in it and who had painted it. It had been donated by the same private collector. One of the few pieces to have been believed to be lost to history, if it even existed. A fire at the buyer's home a few years after it was commissioned was thought to have taken it. Yet, here it stood. The subjects standing next to a table. The wife and husband sitting, while the children were spread around. The fabrics looked so real. The way the satin looked stunning, the shadows that created the folds. It was absurd to think how anyone could paint like that. As you read more about it, you realized this piece was the centrepiece. One of the few they didn't announce would be here, that it even existed. A surprise for the instalment.

"Chrollo, isn't this the first time this piece has been seen, like to the public?" Chrollo nodded as you straightened up again. "It says," You pointed to the information piece in front of you. "that there were no accurate records it even existed beside a receipt from the painter to the family. How did you know it was going to be here."

You watched his face, curious to hear his explanation. Perhaps he had studied art and new things you didn't. Or had an inside source, but Chrollo didn't say anything. He just looked ahead at the painting for a bit. It looked like he was thinking of an answer. You didn't think much of it, maybe you were correct. Maybe he had some inside source that told him about the new installments. If you had a source like that, you would be using them every time there was a new gallery opening or exhibit.

"Hmmm"

That was all he offered you before pulling out his phone and messaging someone. Still not looking at you. Staring straight ahead when he put his phone away. Not letting you know what he was thinking, not answering you either. Before you could say something, try to get him to answer you. Chrollo had pulled you closer to him. A hand wrapped around your waist. A sudden move that had startled you. Odd since you two hadn't touched each other the whole night. You couldn't even push away from him as the lights were abruptly cut off. The lights from the ceiling, the wall lights, the ones hanging directly over the pieces. All were off. The room was pushed into darkness. You couldn't see your hand in front of you or Chrollo beside you. Yet, you could feel him, his arm tightly holding onto you. As people screamed and yelled around you. Trying to figure out what was going on. Pushing past you, falling over. It was most likely a power outage.

"What the hell is going on."

"Shh, you'll see." Chrollo had leaned in. Whispering in your ear. He was closer than you remembered.

You could feel people move around you, bumping into each other including you. People still yelling and just as confused as you were. You were waiting for an announcement to be made, a worker to yell something. How there was a power outage somehow, or perhaps someone had accidentally flipped a switch. Yet, it didn't come, minutes passed. Feeling dragged out. You were trying to look around, let your eyes adjust, but Chrollo didn't let up with his hold on you. Keeping you by his side. You were about to say something. Tell him to let go when you unexpectedly heard a door open and close behind you. Turning your head as far back as you could, you saw a bit of light disappear as the door shut. Someone had entered, or left? You weren't sure, but you hoped it was a worker entering to help. Waiting for someone to yell, or for any kind of new sounds. Only to hear something you didn't expect. Not a voice asking if everyone was okay. No, instead there were yells. Different than before, they sounded scared and hurt. Then another sound, it sounded like something dropping to the floor. Originally you guessed it was the art. Someone had managed to fuck up and bump into something, but this was too heavy. Too condensed to be a wooden frame falling and the statues would probably just shatter. No, it was more like a body hitting the floor. Someone must have tripped, or run into someone. However, the noise repeated itself. Again and again, yells and falls.

It happened too swiftly, and you didn't have any time to properly react. The screams and bodies hitting the floor had made their way across the room. Until there was silence again, but it felt different. Not like everyone was quiet. Rather, it felt like no one else was there. That you and Chrollo were alone. His weight was a comforting thing now. Something you were leaning into. He was an anchor in this confusing chaos.

"My apologies, but I have to go. I'll see you again my dear."

Chrollo's weight was lifted from your body. His grip was gone. When you went to grab onto him and call out his name. You were met with empty air. You couldn't reach his body anymore. Taking step after step, calling out to him. No answer came. No acknowledgement came. It was like he wasn't there anymore. Like he was gone. It wasn't until you tripped that you stopped calling out his name. You had managed to fall over something on the ground. Your eyes hadn't adjusted yet, still too dark to see what was around you. Falling onto the ground. Trying to catch yourself, placing your hands in front of you to brace yourself. Landing hard on the ground. As your hands made contact with the ground, they failed to keep you upright. Instead, they slipped on something wet on the floor. Pushing them forward, allowing your head to hit the ground. Not as hard as if your hands hadn't broken the fall somewhat. Though still making you see stars.

You were on the floor, face in the liquid. Unable to fully move yet. Too dark to see what had happened, and too much in pain to try to get up. Laying in the liquid, you tried to focus on attempting to see and not on the pain. Trying to see what was next to you. It felt like there was something close to your face like there was a presence there. Abruptly the lights were back on. Blinding you, forcing you to shut your eyes. It burned, to go from darkness to blinding light.

"Hey! Hey! Is everyone okay?" You could hear the doors open, someone had come in yelling, but there was no answer.

No one was answering the man back. Only the same silence from moments before.

"Oh, God."

There was panic and disgust in his voice now. The man was now calling to others, telling them to call the police. You couldn't understand why and a part of you didn't want to know. You didn't want to know why it was so silent, why no one answered him. But you needed to. Needed to let the person know you were there.

"I-I'm here."

You opened your eyes while trying to push up. The first thing you saw was red. Red liquid on the floor, on your hands. It was what your hands had slipped on when you fell. You weren't an idiot, wishing you were for a moment. You knew what it was. Blood, it was blood. There was no mistaking it. Looking around to see where it had come from. Unable to stop the sudden scream that left your mouth. The blood was not coming from you, but rather from all around you. People's heads were bashed in, and necks snapped. Some injuries you weren't sure how they occurred. But they all seemed to lead to blood. It was spread across the floor. On the walls.

You weren't sure what had happened after you saw the blood. You must have gotten people's attention because one minute you were on the floor, next you were in a hospital with officers asking you questions. Your doctors and nurses yelling at them, trying to get them to stop asking questions and let them help you. You were clearly in shock. Unable to form a worthy sentence.

Days went by, and you were treated in the hospital. Seen by several psychologists. Hoping to get you to talk and explain what happened at the exhibit. How everyone there had died, how you were the lone survivor and where did all the art go. Every time they spoke, you just looked at them confused. Confused and scared. On the second day, you had managed to overhear the officers trying to figure out where the art went. The cameras were blacked out for the whole evening. It was clear this event was extremely planned. Though that meant nothing to you, you were just trying to process being surrounded by dead people and covered in their blood.

It must have been close to a week by the time you were able to properly speak. To try to explain to the officers that had been camping outside your door. You were just as confused as they were. Unsure of what had happened. All you could remember was the man you had talked to the whole evening. That was their only lead, a man named Chrollo and you. The survivor. The officers kept pushing, wanting more when you had none to give. You tried to recall the night from getting ready to the moments before the lights were cut off. At first, they seemed suspicious, questioning why you were left alive when over 100 other guests were bludgeoned to death. Though no actual evidence could tie you as a culprit. That didn't matter, you and the mysterious Chrollo were their only lead. Though once the hospital cleared you after being there for over two weeks, there was nothing they could do. They escorted you home. Giving you their number before leaving. Reminding you to call if any small memory comes back and not to leave town.

It was strange to be home. Strange from being covered in blood, to the sterile white hospital, to a familiar and calm environment. Coming back to an empty house, having it so quiet after all those nights in the hospital. Hearing the nurses and doctors. The intercom, the family visits. Then there were the cops. There was always noise, but now there was nothing. Just your dark house and the silence filling it. It bothered you, the silence just reminded you of that night. The silence of death.

Walking into the house, you shut and locked the door behind you. Putting down all the paper they had given you when you got discharged on the dining table. You paused at the light switch, fingers brushing the switch. Although it was dark inside, there was a part of you that couldn't bring yourself to flip the switch. The memory of what occurred the last time the lights were thrown on made you freeze. No, it was better for the lights to remain off. You would just use your muscle memory to navigate in the dark. There was no point in turning the lights on. You were exhausted, wanting nothing more than your own bed. Wanting the comfort of familiarity, of safety.

It was like that for a few days. You rarely turned on the lights, too afraid to see those people again. Terrified the flash of lights would bring those poor bodies back. Bloody and dead, laying at your feet again. It was irrational, you knew that. Yet, the lights stayed off.

Work had given you as much time as you needed. They couldn't risk bringing back a traumatized worker and having them do something liable. It gave you time to try to process what had happened, to try to get those people out of your head. Tuning the noise of the few yells, the smell of the blood. Trying to get everything out of your head. Trying to ignore how your mind strayed back to that night, going over every little detail. It could have been you, you could have been on the floor with the rest. But why weren't you? Why were you spared? What bothered you most was Chrollo. His body wasn't found, which meant he survived. He did wish you goodbye before the lights were cut. The police thought he was involved, that he was part of the murders and heist, but there was no trace of his existence. You had spent that evening with a goddamn killer. A maniac that had managed to sweet-talk you for hours. The thought made you nauseous.

Even as the days went by, the police weren't able to find the culprits. The lead of Chrollo had fallen short. No man under that name had bought any tickets, had gotten parking, they even checked restaurants in the area to see if anyone had reservations under that name in the last few weeks before the gallery had opened. There was no trace of the man you met that night. The idea of him being out there bothered you. He let you live, after all, he told you who he was, whether it was a fake name or not. He still introduced himself to you. Still struck up a conversation with you. Stayed with you all night, and most oddly, let you live. Killed everyone, but you. Someone who had either directly killed all those others or had some hand in it had so easily left you. Paranoia began to creep in as the days passed, as you dwelled on the thought of it more and more. Certain he was going to come back. Chrollo was going to finish his job, and tie up any loose ends. Or the cops were going to finally just put everything on you. Pin the murders on you since the evidence was getting them nowhere. It would be easier for them, to wrap up their case. You were sure the public would buy it. Instead of getting better, you were getting worse. Becoming more overwhelmed as time went on. Barely moving from your bedroom, keeping the curtains shut out of fear. Friends and neighbours tried to call and visit, but you ignored them. Too frightened to even open the door, to look out your window in case it was him. Night was the worst.

It was always dark in your home, as you still declined to turn certain lights on. Terrified you'd see the bodies when you flipped the switch. Though there were still moments when you feared the dark. Worrying about what you couldn't see, what may lurk in it. It had taken you a few days from your first arrival home to manage to even turn on some lights, mostly lamps or small rooms like the bathroom. Lights that would only give enough light to illuminate no more than a couple feet in front of them. Yet, your mind refused to allow larger rooms to be fully lit. The darkness was the better.

Muscle memory had saved you, keeping you on your two feet instead of face-first into the floor. Even at nights just like this one when you didn't have the sun peeking in from the cracks of the curtains. You could still navigate the house. Letting the lights you kept on all the time in certain rooms bleed into the others you ventured into.

You were cleaning up the dinner you had eaten. Some dry ramen packs you had found in the back of your cupboard. The last of what was keeping you fed. Using the lamps from your hallway to see around you as you put the garbage away before going back to the sink. The lights were nice, dull enough they hadn't disturbed you when you turned them on a day ago. You were making progress, right? One little light on was a show of getting better. It had to be. Though as you placed the bowl in the sink. Taking a look at the clock on the stove, realizing it was already well past midnight. The ramen had been the only thing you'd eaten all day. You couldn't help but laugh, swearing to yourself under your breath. It was a lie. You weren't getting better. A stupid little light in a room away meant nothing. Rubbing your face as you thought about what this meant. What being stuck in this horrid condition meant, in this paralyzing fear over fucking lights meant. If you didn't get better who knows when you can go back to work. Sure they had been accommodating, but how long would that last? A few more weeks at most. You needed to get back into the swing of things. Get back to a semi-normal schedule and behaviour. The pressure and weight of everything felt like it got heavier. Bearing a bigger load on your shoulders was becoming too much. It was all too much.

"Fuck." You were pissed, throwing your fork against the wall. "I'm not getting better. I-I'm not." Tears were forming. It wasn't fair.

"No, you are not."

Someone had just answered you back, somebody had spoken back to you within this empty house. You froze, taking a moment to process what just happened. Though when you heard a quick "hmmm" prompt from the speaker. You knew who it was. It was the same voice that haunted your thoughts all this time since the gallery. It was him, the man who had been so sweet to you that night. That had flattered and entertained you. The man who had then killed and left you. It was Chrollo, there was no mistaking it. Your lips began to shiver, too petrified to turn around and be right. Or worse be wrong and have another unfamiliar threat.

Your mind began to race, thinking of why the hell he was here after all this time. He was here to finish the job, wasn't he? He was going to kill you. Tie up the loose ends. Perhaps you had said too much. You couldn't turn around. Couldn't face the man that had killed so many with ease. You couldn't face your soon-to-be killer. Shutting your eyes tight, waiting as the seconds ticked by.

"Not even a 'hello?' or a 'how have you been?' Manners my dear."

He expected a greeting. That sick maniac wanted you to greet him as if you were long-time friends who hadn't seen each other for a few days. It was a sick joke, wanting to act friendly after everything. After he left you surrounded by bloody bodies, left you as the lone survivor to be endlessly questioned by the police. Left you to live in fear. You were pissed before. Angry at yourself for failing to adapt and get better. Yet, as you stood there, taking in what was happening. You realized that no, you weren't angry at yourself. You were furious at him. Pissed he left you like this and caused so much harm to the one he left alive. He didn't spare you, no he just damaged your life in a different way.

"Why are you here?" It was soft and meek, but it came out in one swift breath.

"Why not? Am I not welcomed."

Welcomed? Welcomed? Did he assume you'd welcome him with open arms, and accept your death with gratitude and glee? His words tipped you over the edge. Spinning around, now facing him. You looked him over. He looked mostly the same as that night. With only a few differences. He was still wearing many of the same clothes but he lacked the charm of that night. Looking a bit dishevelled. He wore the same jacket, but the shirt under was in a lot worse condition. His hair was greased back, it looked dirty. As if it was just his unwashed hair keeping it back, not any product. How was this the same man you had managed to keep you interested all night?

"Just kill me. I don't want to play anymore."

The fight in you was abruptly gone. You didn't want to play his game anymore. Pretend to be happy, and play his little friendship game. Let him get some sick satisfaction from it all. Cause that's what it all must have been. Some sick little game, that lets you think you got away before he visits and watches the hope leave your eyes. There was no hope in you, just tiredness, anger and fear. You wanted it all gone.

"And what if I do."

There was no response. All you could do was stare. Stare with repulsion towards him.

"Hmm?" Chrollo had begun stepping forward. Making his way to you.

"P-Please, just make it easy." It was a heartbreaking plea, but it was all you had. A request for a swift death.

"And why would I do that?"

In a few long steps, Chrollo was now in front of you. Pressing his body against yours. It was uncomfortable. Having him so close, having him in your house. It was vile and wrong.

Refusing to look him in the eyes. Keeping your head down and eyes shut. Waiting for him to strike. He was going to kill you. Would he leave your body here for the cops or your neighbours to find? Or would he try to hide your body? Leave you to just become a missing person poster.

"You really think I'm going to kill you?" You gave a weak nod. "Hmm, I guess that makes sense. A good guess, but I'm not."

At that, you looked up at him. Shocked at his response. If he wasn't going to kill you. Why would he be here? Why the hell would he be here if he wasn't going to finish the job? That rage from before was rising up again. You reckoned he was lying. That he was toying with you, giving you that sense of hope. Playing with you, dragging out the kill.

"Don't lie to me. Please, just-just make it painless."

Chrollo let out a chuckle, he found your words entertaining. Lifting his hand up, pausing when you flinched.

"Relax my dear. I said I wasn't."

His hand brushed the side of your face. Tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. It was a soft touch, such soft hands for a killer. So tender for someone who had killed all those that night. Even with his soft touch, you were frozen and stiff.

"I see I've caused so much worry." Chrollo leaned in. Face right by yours. Lips brushing against yours. "My apologies."

Chrollo's lips were right on yours. Kissing you. Demanding more action and presence from you, but you couldn't kiss back. You could feel his disappointment in your lack of action. Yet, he still continued the kiss. Placing a hand at the back of your head. Forcing the kiss to deepen as much as he could do with such a stiff partner. His tongue swiped across your lips. You knew he wanted more, it made you want to throw up. Though it fueled a sudden surge of confidence that came over you. A want to survive and not play his game. Your arms shot forward. Pushing as hard as you could on his chest. Shoving Chrollo away from you. Managing to create some space between the two of you. It wasn't much, but it was enough to move away from him. Lurching forwards, you made your way from Chrollo. Darting out of the room, and through the house. Trying to get to any door. The front door was closest. You made your way to it. Dodging any tables or couches, even in the dark you could navigate your place. But when you could see the door, you saw him. He was in front of it. The light shining from a powder room not too far from him showcased his features. He was smiling. Enjoying your little attempt.

Chrollo was blocking the front door. Stopping, you turned and made your way to the back door. You would have to go through the living room and kitchen to make it to the backroom. Pushing yourself, you ran. Trying to get to it before him. You just needed to get out and run to a neighbour. Or even yell for help. Anything to get the attention of someone. Running through the living room, then the kitchen. Feeling the sweat drip down your back. You had gotten to the backroom, only to see him. He was there again. Standing, blocking the door. Blocking your way out. There had to be another way out, maybe back to the front door again could work. Turning around, attempting to run back. You couldn't even get three steps away before his arms were wrapped around you. Keeping you in place, holding you still and incapable of moving. You tried to kick and hit. Anything to try to get him to let go. When you noticed none of that was working, you went to your last resort, screaming. But Chrollo's hand covered your mouth before you could get a sound out. Your heart was pumping, beating so fast. Tears came down as you sobbed into his hand. You were finally going to die. Die in your home, a place you considered safe.

"Shhh, it's okay, it's okay." Chrollo pressed his head against the side of yours. His mouth was close to your ear. "Calm down, you're going to be alright. Just listen to what I say."

You tried to come down, trying to soothe yourself. Levelling out your breathing. It was hard but eventually manageable. Anything to buy you some time, to try to run again when he let go. After a few minutes, you were breathing close to normal.

"Where's the girl from that night, huh? The sweet little thing that enjoyed looking at art all night? I miss her" Chrollo placed a kiss on your soaked cheek. "I need you to relax sweetie, okay? Can you do that? Stay calm?"

His tone was patronizing, his tone felt like he was talking to some child. Bile climbed up your throat. He was a murderer and a jerk. You tried to nod while his hand over your mouth kept you in place.

"Good girl. Now, swallow."

Without any warning Chrollo's hand over your mouth was moved, only to have his other quickly shove something between your lips. His hand made its way back over your mouth, while he pinched your nose. Forcing you to swallow whatever he had shoved in your mouth if you wanted to breathe. You attempted to refuse but couldn't last long. You could feel him smiling against your cheek when he realized you swallowed. Praises left his lips at how good you were being now, how corporating you will be when you two leave. You had no idea what he meant, but it didn't matter whether you understood or not. Because soon you felt strange, your legs felt frail. Your head felt heavy. This wasn't just the adrenaline leaving your body. Chrollo had drugged you. You gave one last effort, trying to pull from his grasp, but your hands could barely lift past your waist. Too heavy and weak to do anything. Your body was shutting down quicker than you could process, unable to help you at this point. Your eyes were even failing you, begging to be shut. Eyelids begging to shut, refusing to stay open any longer. Even after begging him to not play with you, he was doing what he wanted.

"It'll be fine. You'll be home soon."

His words confused you. You were home, he was in your home. He was the one who ruined your home, your safety. But your thoughts stopped as you slipped away. Slumping in his grasp unable to do anything. If only you could see the satisfaction on Chrollo's face as he carried you out. He knew you'd curse at him.

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