#_lee's fics

[depravitycentral]

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.

[depravitycentral]

Friday Nights

Yandere! Yuu Nishinoya x fem! reader

Synopsis: A routine movie night with your best friend turns into a bit more than you bargained for – action movies, popcorn, drugged soda, and a man absolutely desperate for you, no matter how underhanded his methods may be. 

Warnings: non-con, non-consensual drugging, choking, bruising, non-consensual groping, delusional Yuu, lowkey dragging action movies sorry, mentions of stalking, mentions of past non-con (by Yuu), somnophilia, implied somnophilia, obviously timeskip!Yuu who decided to get educated and go to college, mentions of reader’s pubic hair, fem reader

WC: 5.2K

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 what movie do y’wanna watch?” Yuu asks, his voice high pitched with excitement as his brown eyes scan through the rows of movie titles. The TV perched on the wall is queued up with Netflix, the various titles jumping out and seeming to fly by as his fingers repeatedly press down onto the ‘next’ button, moving too quickly to even get a glimpse at the synopses. 

You roll your eyes but giggle lightly, the behavior typical from him. 

He’d always been a bit scatterbrained, impatient and always eager to go out and do something, for excitement and stimulation in every possible way. He was a busy body, a trait you admired about him, albeit something that occasionally had you ripping at your hair when he just wouldn’t stay still. 

And yet, it was a reason why you loved him– one of your closest friends, a joy of a man that you felt lucky to have known since high school. He may have been in a different class, but through coinciding clubs and college seminars, a friendship had bloomed quickly and passionately, the both of you seeing a missing piece in one another. 

“I don’t care, just please not Die Hard again. It’d be what, the twentieth time in the last two months?” You teased, sending him a glare as he pouted, lips puffing out as crossed his arms. 

“Hmpf, you’re just jealous that I like actually interesting movies, not the shit you watch.”

Suddenly the popcorn bowl – fresh and dripping in butter and salt – that you’d just finished making was snatched away from his outstretched hand, an indignant huff spilling from your lips. 

He spluttered, eyes blowing wide as he stared at you.

“Wha – you can’t do that!” He exclaimed, facing you with an incredulous expression. 

You closed your eyes, puffing your chest and tilting your chin up. “Mmm, I made it, so I get to choose what I do with it.”

Yuu threw his hands up, shaking his head and asking in a defeated tone, “Okay okay, your liege, what must I do to earn some of your world class popcorn?”

Opening your eyes, your index finger tapped against your chin, fake contemplating. “Hmmm…”

“C’mon, I’m hungry!” He whined, shoulders drooping as he pouted. 

You snorted, before sighing heavily. “Well, I suppose you’ll just have to apologize, and thank me for being so generous and letting you off so easily.”

He scoffed, eyes rolling to the sky as he flopped back against the cushions of his couch. “Sure, sure princess, I’m so sorry for offending you, and thanks for being such a softie.” 

You smirk and glance over at him, holding out the popcorn bowl and watching as his eyes lit up, a hand immediately reaching out to grab as big a handful as possible. 

“You’re a pig, you know that?” 

He picked up a stray piece that had fallen onto his gray t-shirt, flinging it over at you and smiling through a mouthful of popcorn at your offended glare. 

You laughed despite yourself, the man beside you too easy to forgive for his own good. Choosing to ignore the way he snickered at your failed attempt at seeming irritated, you instead focused your gaze onto the television, just to watch him pass through movie after movie under the action section. 

Eventually, he landed on a rather non-descript action thriller that looked to have the same plot as the other twenty action movies he’d had you watch the last few movie nights. You were sure you’d be able to recite the lines word for word despite never having watched this particular film.

He glanced over at you, seeking your approval on the movie. You nodded, giving him a small smile despite your secret displeasure at his movie choice. Well, it’s not like I ever manage to stay up to watch the full thing, anyways. 

The lights were dimmed, the crunching of popcorn accompanied by the opening soundtrack of the film. Your gaze focused on the screen, explosions and guns filling your sight as the plot droned on, the lead going through a heart wrenching loss of a family member, all typical so far. 

Yuu seemed fully immersed in the movie, his profile showing the concentration in those brown eyes, his lashes barely fluttering as the movie continued. Popcorn was shoveled into his mouth, little gasps and expressions in response to the movie passing over his face frequently. 

You smiled softly, the sight of him enjoying himself making you unspeakably happy. It was no secret that you’d developed feelings for your friend, but the years’ worth of fondness that had slowly seeped into your mind wasn’t worth endangering the tight friendship you shared, and so you stayed quiet. Yuu was a friend, nothing more and nothing less. 

But he looks so pretty like this… 

You sighed, adjusting yourself and taking a sip of the soda he’d brought over for you. It was a new brand this time, though it was still your favorite flavor, something he kept on hand in bottled form for nights exactly like this. The lid was always unscrewed, a few sips having been taken by him beforehand (“what? It’s not like we don’t share everything else, besides you’ve got decent taste! I just want to try it every time, you know?”), and as much as it made you feel like a creep and embarrass you, some small part of you enjoyed the fact that his lips had already touched the rim. 

You shivered, snuggling deeper into the blankets you’d buried yourself in. You were acutely aware of his presence on the other side of the admittedly small couch, but as the movie continued on, slowly your eyes drifted closed, sleep overtaking you. 

“Damn, wasn’t that such a good movie? I totally didn’t see the ending coming –“ He started, a wide grin on his face as he turned to face you, honey eyes appraising your sleeping form. 

The ending credits of the movie were rolling, the music slowly fading into the background as he stared, your peaceful, unconscious form looking absolutely beautiful to him. He’d known he was in love with you for a while now – since your first year in college, really, after you’d approached him during a shared class and practically begged him to study with you. He knew you were only asking platonically, but you were so sweet and funny, your laugh was addictive, your eyes so pretty, your body looking so good in your tighter shirt… 

Plus, you asked him to study – a poor choice, really, but that must’ve meant you’d noticed him and though you were smart! (You were sorely disappointed when he’d looked at you in confusion when you’d mentioned helium during your chemistry studying, but he was endearing so you let it slide.)

It was a bit of a hopeless spiral into his feelings, if he was being honest, and while he didn’t necessarily enjoy being stuck in a perpetual friend-zone with you, he was satisfied. He was just happy that he was able to spend time with you, to see you and speak with you, to have consistent movie nights like tonight where things became more bearable. 

More bearable, if only because he got to do the things he’d spend all week daydreaming about, thoughts of you racing through his mind late at night when the knowledge that you were only a few hundred feet away from him was starting to get into his head. Movie nights were a near weekly occurrence, marked by Friday nights spent in his apartment, the old worn couch getting its fair share of use in many, many ways. 

Yuu gulped, jaw going slack as he merely stared, the minutes ticking by slowly as his eyes raked over the curve of your nose, your brows and lashes, the soft parting of your lips. You were truly gorgeous, his ideal woman in every possible way, and as he slowly stood up, calling out your name a few times to make sure the drugs he’d spiked into your soda were effective, excitement began building up in his chest. 

Sure, it didn’t feel great to be doing this, to have grown a habit out of the way he slowly uncovered your form, the blankets being pushed to the side as his breath grew ragged, his sweatpants slowly beginning to feel too tight, but it was too late now to stop, the habit too ingrained into his mind to ever seriously quit. 

And as he pulled off his shirt and slowly wrapped your unconscious body into his arms, every ounce of guilt slowly drifted from his mind, the feeling of your form against his bare one making his head spin in the most wonderful of ways. 

Moving you to the bed was easy – despite your consistent complaints of being too heavy, your weight posed no problem to the young man as he carefully set you down on his bed, your head lolling back against the pillows as he analyzed your expression. You were still out, thanks to the copious (but not dangerous) amounts of sleeping agent he’d administered into the fizzy drink before you’d arrived, his fingers nearly trembling with excitement as he’d handed over the plastic bottle to you. You were always so gullible, a trait he found simultaneously endearing and worrying, though it wasn’t as if he had any real nefarious intentions – better him drugging you than some random creep, right?

At least he normally made you come. 

Yuu shivered, exhaling slowly as he tugged his pants off, his lack of underwear allowing his already mostly hard cock to spring free, the leaking tip flushed a dark red as he moved to situate himself between your legs, his hands lightly dusting over your legs as he debated what to remove first. 

Undressing you was always a process – a slow, methodical one, arguably one of his favorite parts about the whole ordeal. Depending on his mood, he’d start at different spots – if he was feeling more handsy, aching to grab onto you and never let go, your top and bra were first to go, followed by a solid twenty minutes of his hands carefully groping and squeezing at your breasts, pinching and playing with your nipples until they were puffy and sore looking, perfect to latch onto and suckle at while he basked in your scent. Other times, it was easier to simply begin where the real magic happened – if his cock was positively aching, desperate to be touched and buried inside of you, it was hard to hold back. Your shorts and panties would disappear, your legs spread and his tongue eager to work at your folds, getting you prepped for what he always swore would be a more gentle fucking, a situation in which he’d make love to you rather than hump into you like some wild animal. 

The promise had yet to be fulfilled, but with opportunities arriving every week, he was confident he’d manage to achieve his goals in the near future, right after the ever-present initial shock and ecstasy that being inside of you brought him. 

He shivered, reaching up to peel off the hem of your sweatshirt, your soft skin exposed as he carefully shifted you around. He was cautious to not bend your elbows in an uncomfortable or jostle you around too much, though he knew you wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon, much less from something as light as a few tugs. He sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of your bra – a simple t-shirt bra fit with a neutral shade, nothing he’d ever see on the cover of a magazine or in porn, but something arousing and enticing all the same, if his cock’s throbbing and pulsing had any say. 

As soon as his nimble fingers had unclipped the garment and tossed it to the side, immediately he was licking his lips, reaching up to run his fingers up your stomach and towards your chest, taking a breast in each hand and firmly squeezing. 

“Ah, Yuu, I love it when you touch me…” He whispered, voice rising in pitch to sound similar to yours, the fantasy of hearing you encouraging his sexual exploits with you sending yet another wave of arousal down to his groin. It had been strange, the first few times he’d tried to talk to himself and pretend to be you, embarrassing to the point where he’d struggled to meet your gaze for a few days later (though he’d laughed it off as some joke about how he’d just been fulfilling a dare about ignoring you). But as time passed and he’d gotten more used to it, he found himself suddenly unable to get off without imagining your responses. He found himself depending on imagining and imitating what your moans and whimpers of his name would sound like, the noises you’d make as he fucks you on his fingers or stuffs that pretty mouth full of his cock. 

“I love it too baby, you’re so fucking soft.” He groaned, hands squeezing a bit harder as he groped and kneaded at your breasts, pinching the pebbled flesh between his thumb and pointer finger as he lightly rutted against your thigh, the friction making him hiss and dip his head, nose coming to rest right over your clothed cunt. 

He inhaled deeply, the musky scent driving him wild with lust as his hips bucked extra hard, the sensation making him desperate for more more more, to see and feel your body clenching and creaming around him. 

After a final, harsher squeeze against your breasts, his hands wandered down your sides to rest at your hips, untying the drawstring to your shorts and tugging them down along with your panties. The recent development of you choosing quite possibly the shortest shorts he’d ever seen in his life to wear to your weekly hang outs was arguably one of the best things to happen to him, something he’d be eternally grateful for for years to come, a memory he’d look back on with flushed cheeks, a flustered smile and an aching cock. 

The sight of your pubic hair and bare thighs had him groaning, his eyes fluttering shut as anticipation roared through him, the familiar image making the phantom taste of your slick against his tongue stronger than he’d thought possible. Carefully grabbing your knees, he spread your legs further apart to expose more of your cute little cunt, before throwing your legs over his shoulders to allow more dexterity for what he was planning next. 

Now eyelevel with your cunt, Yuu shut his eyes and inhaled deeply once more, the smell stronger now, richer and more prominent and oh so fucking delicious, drool slipping down his chin as he shuffled closer, quite literally burying his face into the soft mound between your legs. He shivered, his entire body convulsing as he slowly gyrated his head, spreading the minimal slick and discharge along the bridge and tip of his nose, fully immersing himself in as much of you as possible. You were gorgeous, perfect and delectable, and as he lightly pulled back to lick his lips, Yuu groaned. 

“Please, no teasing Yuu, y’know I need you, I want you so bad.” He whined out, his hands finding solace at your thighs, finger tips digging into the plush fat to hold your unresponsive body still. Fantasies of the way you’d writhe and shake under him flooded his mind, the idea of you being so overcome with desire and impatience that you’d literally beg him to touch you, to taste you giving him a blood rush. 

“So impatient baby, so greedy…” His voice was muffled against the space of your inner thighs as he peppered kisses against the sensitive skin (though careful to never leave any hickeys or bruises, no matter how desperately the temptation ate away at him). “Always wanting so much, you’re so lucky ‘m so generous, all for my sweet girl.”

And with that, he dove in, licking a long strip up from your quivering hole to your clit, tongue circling around the little bud in earnest as he groaned, the sound sending vibrations against your body as you lightly moaned in your sleep. Lips attached to the bundle of nerves, cupping around the area as he sucked and licked, managing to work your body exactly how he’d learned after months of having you all to himself for hours at a hand, all with the sole goal of getting you ruined and hazy with sleep-ridden pleasure. 

Rationally, he knew that he didn’t really need to get you off before fucking you, especially with you being unaware either way, but the fantasies built up in his mind were more catered towards you genuinely enjoying the experience, moaning his name and grasping at his hair as he worked you towards an orgasm, getting you to the brink before pushing you over, making sure you were ready to take the oftentimes animalistic pace of his hips. 

Lewd sucking and slurping noises reverberated through the room, the movie having ended a while ago. He grunted against you, fingers digging into your thighs before moving one hand to gently prod at your entrance, his tongue continuing to work away at your clit. Carefully, he pushed a finger inside, the feeling of your walls clamping down on him driving his hips to hump forward. His comforter created a delicious mix of pleasurable pain against the sensitive skin of his cock. 

You whimpered lightly in your sleep, head lolling to the side, and for a moment Yuu froze, terror that you’d wake up slapping him harshly in the face. He stayed still for a few seconds, staring up at you with wide silver eyes and a ring of creamy, off white slick around his mouth and across his nose, before gulping and returning back to position. He needed to make you come, the urge too strong to ignore, and with a new vigor Yuu was curling and scissoring his fingers, rubbing up against the spots he knew had you jerking and twitching in your sleep. 

And, five minute later, he wasn’t disappointed in the least – your hips violently jerked upwards, a small gasp tumbling from your pretty lips as you orgasmed, your body shaking underneath the firm grip of his hand as he worked you through your high. His tongue never stopped moving, his fingers slowing their rhythm but never stopping, the entire experience of feeling your walls flutter and clench and seeing your chest rapidly rise and fall making him all too eager to pull back, but not before placing a quick kiss to your clit that had you twitching. 

Tongue flicking out to lick up any residual slick, he smiled down at your form, leaning over you on his knees to cradle your cheek with a cum-stained hand, whispering down at your unconscious form, “You’re so pretty, look so beautiful when you come for me, baby.”

“Anything for you Yuu, wanna make you feel good too.” He mumbled, fingers coming down to toy with your nipples again, idly flicking the sensitive flesh as he briefly lost himself in the imaginary conversation. 

“Oh yeah? And how are you gonna do that angel?”

“Wanna taste you, please?”

“Shh, tonight is about you princess, and you wanna suck my cock?”

“Yuu! Don’t say it so lewdly…”

“You’re not saying no, baby, that must mean you want my cum down that pretty throat of yours, huh?”

He moved to trace the shape of your lips with a callused thumb, his breath hitching in his throat when your lips parted, his thumb sliding inside to rest idly against your tongue. A strangled groan tumbled from his throat, his cock rutting against your newly slick pussy, the feeling making his eyes tightly squeeze shut. 

“You make it sound so dirty, just like it when you’re in my mouth okay? It’s not weird!”

He laughed, pulling his thumb out of your mouth and instead placing it in his own, sucking your spit off the appendage. “I know baby, I know. But right now, I wanna fuck you, wanna feel that tight little cunny squeezing me, ‘kay? And you know how much I love the little noises you make when you’re creaming on my cock.”

And with that, his hand traveled down to wrap around the base of his shaft, giving himself a few pumps that earned a soft hiss from his lips. His other hand moved to press against the mattress, supporting his weight as he nudged his tip against your slick folds, biting his lip as he languidly brought the tip up and down, collecting your cream, feeling the way it mixed with his precum as he slowly shuffled forward. 

Your legs were spread out at an odd angle, surely hurting your hips, but as he slowly, oh so fucking slowly pushed inside, Yuu couldn’t find it in himself to care – how could he, when your walls were sucking him in, wet and warm and fuck, how could you be so tight even after he’d prepped you? 

“Oh fuck, hnghh-“ He groaned, head lolling forward to bury itself in between the junction of your shoulder and neck, the overwhelming sensation of your pussy welcoming him in making his head swim. His breath came in pants, his muscles twitching as he tried to give your unconscious body a few moments to adjust, knowing that despite his work to get you loosened up and ready, it would still take a bit to get used to him. 

“God, do you even know how fucking goo – shit, good you feel baby?” He stuttered out, voice strained as he slowly pulled out, before pushing back in, keeping the pace slow and steady, as much for you as for him. 

The squelching noises of his cock stirring up your insides was euphoric to him, the sound of him fucking you making him dizzy, only furthering the sensations racing up his spine. The pleasure, even from being inside you for a grand total of forty five seconds, was mind-numbing, every part of him focusing on going deeper, harder, faster, giving you more more more – 

“Oh Yuu, oh – ngh, oh please, you’re so big!” He squeaked out, imagining the way your nails would scratch down his back, his hips pistoning into you, angling up to hit that spongey, magical spot inside of you that would have your back arching and your voice turning into a near scream.

“Oh god, fuckin’ - shit baby, wanna feel you come on my cock again please – “ He gasped, eyes squeezing shut as you gave a particularly hard clench around him, his balls twitching in anticipation. “Fuck, I love you, oh fuck I love you so much, I love you I love you I –“ 

“A-ah, what –“ A small mumble had Yuu freezing, silver eyes blowing wide as his hips stood at a stand still. He audibly gasped as his gaze darted down to your face, seeing your bleary eyes staring up at him, dizzy with sleep and confusion as you slowly took in your situation – Yuu above you, his face beet red with sweat lining his temples, the dull throb between your legs, the strange sensation of something stretching you out, pushing at your walls. 

The situation was slow to make sense to you, but as soon as he shifted slightly and the resulting sensation of something lodging itself deeper into you registered, your eyes were suddenly widening, fear and panic gripping your heart as you realized exactly what your former friend was doing, why the cold air of his room had felt so strange against your bare skin. 

“Oh my god – Nishinoya what the fuck – “ You started, hands coming up to push him away as you squirmed, but the way he suddenly plopped down onto you, pinning your legs and arms to your side had you halting any movements, the hand covering your mouth only making you panic harder. 

Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to flail, thrashing underneath him only to find that he was much, much stronger than you remembered him being – not a single movement panned out, your limbs essentially useless as Yuu panicked above you, completely unsure of what to do next. 

What had happened? He’d been using those sleeping pills for months – not once had you ever woken up, regained any semblance of consciousness, anything at all! You’d been dead asleep for hours afterwards; plenty of time for him to get off and clean you up, to get rid of any trace of his activities, even as painful as scooping out the cum from inside of you had been. 

The sudden memory of the new brand of soda he’d bought on a whim surfaced, making his eyes narrow. Maybe there’d been some reaction with the drug? 

“I – oh fuck!” He started, eyes darting between yours, watching tears well up in them as you tried to bite at his hand, anything to get him away. 

Sure you’d had a crush on him, but what was he doing? You’d been asleep, you were sure of it – and here he was, fucking you, having presumably undressed you and done god knows what else. You felt sick, the sinking feeling in your gut making bile rise up the back of your throat. 

“I – I can explain!” He stuttered, mind racing as he tried to think of a solution to this, now that you were obviously terrified and likely hating him, thinking of him as some monster, a pervert, a criminal… 

A muffled scream slipped through your lips, one that had him cringing, his hand pressing harder against you in an effort to drown out the noise as much as possible. “Shh! I swear, this isn’t as bad as it looks – I, god, how do I explain this?”

His voice was miserable, defeated and still ragged from the fucking, but at the slight shift of his hips, your body betrayed you. A small whimper, muffled behind his hand but still audible, and the clench of your cunt around his cock had Yuu cursing, head falling forward slightly, the influx of emotion making tears spring up in his own eyes, matching your own pearly ones. 

“It’s just – well fuck, I might as well come clean then, huh?” He bit his lip, slowly moving his hips forward, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he slowly fucked into you, the pleasure too overwhelming for him to stay still. 

You winced, the sensation of his cock brushing against your sensitive walls making you shudder, the pleasure certainly not what you wanted, and yet, with a small sob, it felt so good. It’s not fair, you thought – the man you’re in love with, taking advantage of you, and your body enjoying it so thoroughly, something that only gets confirmed as he slowly began speeding up, every thrust punctuated with a shameful moan of yours. 

“I’ve – oh, I’ve loved you since damn near the fucking second I met you, a-ah, always wanted you, oh fuck baby –“ He groaned, resting his forehead against the pillow next to your head, his weight still distributed onto you and keeping you in place. 

You froze, the sensations of his body and his words making your blood go cold, the idea that all this time, Yuu had felt the same hitting you like a ton of bricks. This was wrong, so wrong – and yet, why did your heart almost feel warm at his admittance?

“’ve wanted you, n-needed you, for so long, ‘m sorry, I’m sorry, god how are you still so damn tight,”, he hissed. “I’m sorry, oh fuck I’m so sorry oh –“

A particularly hard clench of your cunt had him gasping sharply, hips rutting up, the hold of his hand over your mouth momentarily broken in his moment of weakness. Quickly, your lips parted, preparing to scream for help, but Yuu’s hand was suddenly wrapped around your throat, pressing in harshly and making you splutter, the air barely circulating. 

“No! N-no, no please baby please, don’t do anything rash, shit, it’s okay, I know you like – like being choked.” He grunted, making your eyes go wide. “’ve seen you choke yourself a thousand damn times, looked so fucking pretty while you fuck that little cunt with your fingers.” 

You whimpered. 

“Ngh, makes it feel – fuck, feel better, huh? More intense?” He muttered, keeping his hand over your throat, occasionally letting you gasp in a bit of air, but not enough to muster up a scream. 

His hips were still snapping into yours, rutting up against that special spot, and before you could even question how he knew exactly where that spongy spot inside you was, the telltale signs of your orgasm were washing over you – that familiar tightness, the twitching of your muscles, the white edges of your vision. 

You came with a hoarse moan, a shameful sound that had you pathetically thrashing, your attempts to resist his thrusts and strength pitiful at best. Yuu groaned, his forehead pressed against yours as his hips stuttered, the fluttering of your walls pushing him towards his own orgasm. 

“Oh god, here it comes – oh shit, oh fuck, oh take it, take it take it take it -!” He moaned, the sound high pitched and desperate, and to your absolute horror a distinct warmth registered inside you, ropes of cum settling against your unprotected walls in bursts, making you stare up into those brown eyes lidded in ecstasy. His hand sporadically tightened around your throat, surely leaving harsh bruises against your sensitive skin.

After a few moments it was over, his hips finally slowing to a stop after fucking through his orgasm, his breath ragged and fanning over your face. He brought his lips down to yours, kissing you with a passion and desperation that had your head spinning, the feeling of his cock still lodged deep inside of you making you simultaneously disgusted and aroused. 

He parted after a few moments, your own breath harsh as well from the hand still limiting your supply of oxygen. He rested his forehead against yours, hazel eyes staring down at you, a million thoughts a minute racing through his mind. Somehow, despite your struggling, you’d been even better than what he was hoping for – perfection, literally, and while he would’ve preferred you to enjoy it, to engage with him and love the feeling of him inside of you, Yuu was glad for what he could get. 

“I – I love you.” He whispered, eyes wide and vulnerable, hazy with the after effects of pleasure. Your brows furrowed, body having grown numb from lack of blood circulation, and as the hand tightened and you slowly blacked out, the feeling of his hips beginning to move once more had you distantly squealing. 

“Love you, and fuck, guess I don’t have to confess, huh? Don’t have to worry about you saying no now.” 

[depravitycentral]

Hi, I also gotta say that the uvogin fanfic is amazing I also really enjoyed reading that <3.

It was actually a good plan but why the heck did he even print out chats in the first place and kept them in the drawer under the TV? Like if it were his room ok but in the livingroom? Was it maybe his plan that the reader finds it on their own so he could have a reason to stop the pretend and then the reader would blame themselves?

(The fic is question is Partnership)

Ooh, I hadn't even considered the last part of that! That would've been a really good ending - my stand-by for fics is to make endings leading into shock and then sex or a post-sex haze; I am a creature of habit. (Mostly, I just saw the word count was getting to five number places and was worried no one would want to read something longer.)

But genuinely, you finding the evidence of his obsession was an accident - one Uvogin sincerely, honestly hoped wouldn't happen. And you're obedient, he knows that - even if you have a more rebellious streak in you, he's big. He's scary. He's strong. He told you not to snoop. He was sure enough that he'd be willing to bet his own life that you wouldn't dare disobey him or his rules - he knows your body language well enough from all that stalking to be able to read you like a book, and he knew from the moment that blindfold came off that he had you in the palm of his hand.

But then you did the unexpected. You rebelled. You disobeyed.

You were bad, and while he's initially mad at you, frankly he's more surprised than anything - a little impressed and proud of you, even. It fucks up all his plans, of course, but it's nice to see you growing a backbone, even if it is just against him.

And he did have plans, really - plans to slowly grow on you, to continue getting your favorite foods and 'accidentally' starting a new series or set of movies - and oh? What's this? They're your favorites? What a coincidence!

He was going to slowly ease you into the idea of intimacy; a hand lingering on your shoulder here or there, catching you when you fall (he sent a small burst of aura your way that had you losing your balance, but that's just a trivial detail), scoffing at you and telling you that you're holding that knife all wrong, let me show you how to really cut something. (He'll stand behind you, his chest flush against your back, arms grabbing your own and guiding you through the chopping motion, the extra cologne he'd spritzed on earlier in the day making your nose tingle and your cheeks feel warm.)

(And then, once you're asleep that night, he'll fuck his fist so hard it nearly breaks.)

He had a plan, yes, but he's mature enough to realize that it's all his fault that it didn't pan out (well, maybe a bit your's, too, because you'd decided to grow a pair and break one of his cardinal demands). He'd been stringant with keeping all evidence in check - away and secure so that you wouldn't find it. Maybe, with time, he'd show you all the things he's collected over the months he's been watching you - maybe, but only if the Stockholm Syndrome was in full swing, if you were willingly kissing him, instigating sex or even whispering those three little words with honesty. Maybe he would've, just to show you how much he cared - how much he still cares.

But to answer your question, nonnie, the reason why he has the chats printed out is because he wrote them while tapping into your phone line. Shalnark didn't mind doing his buddy a favor, and getting the bug planted wasn't too difficult. And it would go off at the most random times - when he's out, traveling for Troupe business, he doesn't have a computer or anything on him, and a scrap piece of paper and a pen are his only tools. He records what you're saying because everything that comes out of your mouth feels important, like it's something he needs to remember, like it's something that might give him more insight into who you are - another layer of you, maybe even one that only Uvogin ever gets to see.

And of course, once it's written down, he can't just throw it away. He has to keep them - just in case something you said becomes relevant. Just in case you mention something about him - the large man who passed you on the street today, but you were too busy with your nose buried in your phone to notice. The large man who was at the other end of the aisle in the grocery store as you agonized over which flavor of ice cream to buy with your limited budget.

And as for the placement of where he keeps all these scribbled records of your every phone call and interaction, well, it's really a no brainer. It was the only spot that wasn't already full with something relating to you.

Every cabinet, drawer, closet, shelf, nook, and cranny in his apartment is full of you you you. He's got everything his greedy hands could get ahold of - your underwear, chapstick, button, and bandaid, of course, but there's more. It ranges from things that are less disturbing - normal, even, like a pair of earrings or a hairbrush - to things that are just a little more suspicious. (Like your old toothbrushes - yes, plural - or your haribrush.) Things that could be considered totally understandable (if not a big extreme) and not creepy if you and Uvogin were actually a couple.

And then, of course, there's the more intimate items, the things you had the displeasure of stumbling upon - your panties, for example, and if you were to peruse through the cabinets below the sink in the bathroom you'd find all sorts of menstrual supplies, with your favorite brands, the right products for your flow, even the dinky menstrual cup you'd tried on a whim because a friend recommended it. (Yes, you'd thrown it away because it'd been too messy when you took it out and yes, Uvogin searched through your trash bag just to find it.)

He may come off as this big, imposing, simple, one-track-minded man, but he's not. At least, not only those things. Uvogin is smart - and as most yanderes with brains tend to do, his obsession teeters much more on the side of collecting information about you than you'd expect. He's just honestly curious about you in every way - he's clingy and needy and wants you, so badly that it hurts, and collecting your things was a way to help alleviate some of that ache before he could properly be with you.

So while he didn't want you to find any of his stolen goods, frankly, it was inevitable - any storage space (except the room he houses you in - just because he'd be tempting fate if he asked you not to root through anything in the modest closet or drawer set he's assigned to you) contains evidence and proof that Uvogin didn't just randomly get stuck with you. It was all purposeful, planned, calculated - and you, poor sweet little you, just had the misfortune of finding that out much too early.

Ignorance really is bliss, isn't it?