Sūrah Al - Ahzāb | Āyāh 35

the art is scrumptious, breathtaking even. story? mid... (⁠･ั⁠ω⁠･ั⁠)

"this secret is eating me alive"

Animal Crossing: New Leaf (2012)

Then can I ask for something with Nanook and a darling who's a bit of a walking calamity? They don't do it on purpose. Just they presence tends to Tigger chain reactions that bring civilizations down. Whatever it's the reason they interest Nanook or of if it's a manifestation of they interest is the darling is up to you.

Yandere!Nanook x Reader

Y/N L/N is your name. But instead of calling you by that, you had been called many things—an omen, a harbinger of ruin, a god of misfortune. People feared your presence, though you had never once raised a hand against them. Their crops withered, their cities fell, their stars dimmed in the sky, and yet, you were only ever a traveler.

But you had learned not to dwell on it.

The galaxy was vast, filled with wonders beyond comprehension. If one world collapsed, there was always another waiting, glimmering in the distance. And so, you wandered, a being untethered by time or fate, carrying nothing but the echoes of places left behind.

You had long stopped trying to stay.

People either feared you or sought to use you. The few who welcomed you with open arms never lasted long. You had learned to laugh at it, to brush off the weight of it all.

"Well, that was unfortunate." you would hum to yourself, standing at the edge of yet another ruined city. "Guess I'll be moving on."

It was easier that way.

-----

The planet had been thriving once. You could still see the remnants of its beauty—the intricate spires of its capital, now crumbling under fire and smoke. The streets, once filled with life, were now silent, save for the crackling embers of ruin.

You had only arrived yesterday.

A sigh left your lips as you stood at the edge of the city, hands on your hips.

This one fell fast.

Usually, it took weeks, sometimes months, before the cracks started showing. You hadn't even had the chance to try the street food yet.

You took a step forward, the dust swirling at your feet.

It's not my fault, you reminded yourself. It never was. You didn't start the fires. You didn't bring the war. These things simply... happened.

You had accepted that a long time ago.

Still, there was something odd about this one.

The destruction felt too clean, too deliberate. Normally, disasters were random—an accident here, a misfire there, the slow decay of systems failing in impossible ways. But this?

You crouched, running your fingers over the cracked stone.

There were scorch marks, yes. But beneath them, you could see the symbols. The same ones you'd glimpsed on other fallen worlds, carved into ruins, etched into broken walls.

No.

Not again.

The realization settled over you like a suffocating weight.

You had always known there were those who whispered your name with reverence. You had heard rumors of a sect— fanatics who believed in the divine cycle of destruction. But you had never given them much thought.

People believe all sorts of things. You had told yourself that more times than you could count.

But this was different. This was too much.

The symbols, the way the city had burned—it wasn’t coincidence. This had been orchestrated.

Had it always been like this? Had your travels, your carefree wandering, been nothing more than a trail of kindling for someone else to set alight?

You stumbled back, shaking your head. No, no, that couldn’t be right. You had seen worlds fall before—seen them unravel by sheer misfortune, by the unseen force that clung to you like a curse. But this?

They were doing this in your name.

And then, the air shifted.

"Why do you weep?"

The voice was smooth, slow, and laced with amusement. It came from behind you, curling around your spine like the first tremor of an earthquake.

You turned.

A figure stood amidst the ruins, haloed by golden light. His form was vast, shifting between something human and something impossibly cosmic, as if the very fabric of existence bent to accommodate him. His eyes burned with the light of dying stars, watching you with something akin to fondness.

Nanook.

But why in that form?

You had never seen them before—not in all your wanderings, not in all the deaths that trailed in your wake.

But they had been watching.

"Why do you despair?" Nanook asked. They gestured to the ruins, to the smoldering city beneath your feet. "You were not made for weak, fleeting things."

Their presence swallowed the world around you, vast and consuming. As Nanook stepped closer, and the ground trembled beneath them.

"You were made for me."

Nanook’s words rang in your skull like a bell, reverberating through your bones with an awful certainty.

"No," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I wasn’t made for anyone."

Nanook only chuckled. It was a deep, resonant sound, something that should have belonged to a being incapable of laughter.

"Is that what you believe?"

Their gaze swept over you, and there was something terribly fond in the way they looked at you—like a collector admiring the rarest piece in their possession. "You have wandered for so long, destroying all that you love, running from the truth carved into your very existence. And yet, you still resist."

Your nails dug into your palms.

"I never wanted this" you snapped, the weight of it all crashing down. "I never wanted them to—" Your throat closed up, bile rising in your chest as you gestured wildly at the ruins around you. "They did this in my name, Nanook! They burned this city to the ground, they slaughtered people because they thought it would please me!"

Nanook watched you, unbothered by your outburst.

"And?"

The word made you flinch.

"And—?" you echoed, voice cracking. "And you think that’s fine? That this is—" You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "No. No, I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this."

Nanook sighed, as if indulging a stubborn child.

"You misunderstand." Their hand remained outstretched, waiting. "This is not about what you want. It never has been."

"You were never meant for fragile things, my love." Nanook's voice curled around you like silk, patient and inescapable. "You were never meant to hold, only to break. You have always known this."

No, no, that wasn’t true. You had held things before. You had loved cities, people, fleeting moments of warmth. You had admired the way life bloomed in the strangest places, had marveled at art, at music, at the endless wonders the universe had to offer.

But all of it—all of it had crumbled the moment you got too close.

The child who had given you a flower had fallen ill the next day, their village lost to an inexplicable plague.

The man who had offered you shelter had perished in a fire that consumed everything he owned.

The kingdom that had welcomed you as a guest had been swallowed by war before the week’s end.

No matter what you did, no matter how carefully you walked, everything you loved was destined to die.

The realization hit you like a blow to the ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs.

Nanook took another step forward, closing the distance between you in an instant. They towered over you, vast and endless, a being that could not be escaped.

"Come, there is nothing for you in this fragile world. Leave it behind, and I will give you something eternal."

"And if I refuse?"

Nanook’s smile widened, slow and knowing.

"You won’t."

Their hand finally met your cheek, warm and firm, and the cosmos cracked open beneath your feet.

Nanook’s fingers brushed against yours, warm and steady.

You didn’t pull away this time.

There was no fear in their touch, no trembling hesitation like the mortals who had once tried to hold you. Nanook was not afraid that you would break them—because they could not be broken.

"You think you understand me" you murmured, lifting your gaze. "But you weren’t there."

Nanook tilted his head slightly, waiting.

"You weren’t there when the child who gave me a flower grew sick the next day." Your voice was even, but the words weighed heavy. "You weren’t there when I was chased out of cities for bringing ruin to their gates. When people cursed my name, when I—" You swallowed. "When I tried to stay, only to watch everything fall apart."

A quiet moment passed. The cosmos stretched endlessly around you, golden constellations pulsing like a slow heartbeat.

Then, Nanook spoke.

"And yet, you still sought fragile things."

You looked away. "Of course, I did."

"Why?"

You hesitated. The answer should have been simple. Because they were beautiful. Because even if you had lost everything, for a brief moment, you had been happy.

But saying it felt foolish now.

"Then why are you here?" you asked.

"Because you are mine."

You felt the weight of those words settle deep in your chest.

"If I were truly yours, Nanook," you murmured, "wouldn’t I have gone to you long ago?"

Their lips curved into something almost indulgent.

"You were always coming to me." Nanook lifted a hand, tracing a single golden finger along your temple—not forceful, just a reminder of their presence. "You simply took the longer path."

"If I stay," you said carefully, "I need to know one thing."

Nanook watched you patiently. "Speak."

"Are you keeping me because I interest you? Or because you care for me?"

For the first time, Nanook was quiet.

Not because they didn’t know the answer—no, you could tell that they did. But rather because Nanook understood why you were asking.

"Do you think an Aeon incapable of both?"

You weren’t sure.

But for now, you listened.

------

The journey back was unlike anything you had experienced before.

Nanook did not walk. They did not travel.

Instead, the universe itself bent around them, folding and shifting, until the mortal world disappeared entirely—until there was nothing but golden infinity.

You had always assumed the realm of Aeons was a void of silence and solitude, but now… you realized you were wrong. Well maybe.

Because there were others.

They stood beyond the light, their forms shifting, flickering between shapes that barely registered to your mortal perception. Some resembled human figures, adorned with celestial robes, their faces obscured by divine masks. Others were puppet-like constructs, their limbs moving with an eerie smoothness, as if they existed outside of time itself.

Aeons.

They had gathered here. Just to witness a sight. You and Nanook.

The air in the realm hummed with energy, shifting with unspoken words. The Aeons did not communicate as mortals did, yet their attention was unmistakable.

They were looking at you.

Not with the wary glances of mortals, nor the outright fear you had grown accustomed to.

No—this was curiosity.

A voice, layered and eternal, echoed in the void.

"A mortal…? No. Not quite."

A figure wrapped in deep blues and endless constellations observed you with something akin to amusement. Their presence felt like an ocean of knowledge—one that could drown you if you ventured too deep.

"How strange" another mused. "How fragile. Yet still standing beside the Destroyer."

You stiffened, your hands clenching the cloak Nanook had given you.

Nanook did not react at first. They simply stood beside you, golden light radiating from their being. Unmoved. Unbothered.

Until one Aeon took a step forward.

Unlike the others, this one was smaller, their form shifting between a marionette-like construct and something more fluid, their movements unnatural yet entrancing.

"Tell me, Nanook…" Their voice curled through the air like silk laced with hidden thorns. "What makes this one so… special?"

The moment the words were spoken, a shift occurred.

The golden void around you grew heavier, denser, as if unseen hands had pressed against reality itself.

Nanook did not move, but you could feel it—the silent command, the unspoken warning.

"They are mine."

The Aeons did not challenge Nanook’s claim.

But they did observe.

Their gazes weighed on you, some in curiosity, others in calculation. You could not tell what they saw—what conclusions they drew from your presence beside Nanook.

But you knew this:

You did not belong here.

And yet…

You looked to Nanook.

They stood beside you, their golden radiance unwavering.

You did not belong anywhere else, either.

The weight of the Aeons’ gazes still lingered on your skin long after you and Nanook had left. The journey through the cosmos was not something you could truly comprehend.

One moment, the void stretched infinitely around you, the stars shifting in ways that defied logic. The next, reality bent, and you stood on solid ground.

Except…

It wasn’t solid at all.

You looked down, and the "floor" beneath you was a sea of golden dust, shifting with unseen currents, swirling like sand caught in an eternal storm.

Yet, despite its movement, you did not sink.

Above, the sky was fractured light—not a sun, not a moon, but something vast, illuminating the endless horizon. Floating structures loomed in the distance, remnants of something once grand but now long destroyed, left to drift as ruins across the golden expanse.

The air was not air. There was no wind, no temperature—only Nanook’s presence, filling the space like a constant hum beneath your skin.

This was not a place meant for mortals.

This was their domain.

And you… You were standing within it.

You took a slow step forward, the golden dust shifting beneath your weight, parting as if making way for you.

Nanook observed in silence, their humanoid form beside you as still as the remnants of the world around you.

“…This is your universe?” you finally asked, your voice quiet.

They turned their head slightly, their unreadable golden eyes locking onto you. “It is.”

You exhaled softly, scanning the endless horizon. “It feels…” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “...Lonely.”

"It was."

Was?

You turned to them fully. Nanook simply continued to watch you, their expression unreadable—divine and unknowable, yet something about them felt so terribly certain.

A strange emotion settled between you, unspoken yet undeniable.

You were not sure if you should break it. But you did.

“...Show me more?” Your voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “Of your world?”

Something shifted in Nanook’s gaze.

"Come."

They did not need to take your hand, nor did they need to guide your steps.

And yet, as you walked forward, they remained beside you.

-----

It started as something subtle.

At first, you thought it was simple exhaustion, the weight of everything that had happened, the endless journey through Nanook’s realm, the way the golden dust never settled beneath your feet.

But then… it got worse.

Each day, moving became harder. Your limbs felt heavy, your breath came shallower, the energy that once surged through you was slipping.

And Nanook knew.

They had known before you even realized.

"You are fading."

You felt their touch, felt a hand at your back, another cupping your cheek.

"This universe does not welcome you."

This was Nanook’s domain—a universe meant to be ruled, not inhabited. The very essence of destruction that pulsed through it rejected you. Slowly, surely, it was breaking you down.

And yet, Nanook would not allow it.

"You need me."

The words were absolute. Not a question. Not an offer.

At first, you resisted.

You tried to manage on your own, ignoring the weakness in your limbs, the slow ache in your bones. But Nanook was always there.

And the moment you staggered—just once—their arms were around you, catching you with terrifying ease.

"Enough."

You felt the shift before you saw it, Nanook pulling you against them, their energy pouring into you, wrapping around your very being.

It was intoxicating. Like warmth after a bitter cold, like air after drowning. Like salvation.

Your fingers clutched at them before you even realized it. Your body betrayed you, seeking them, clinging to them.

And Nanook smiled.

"You understand now, don’t you?"

"You are mine. And I will never let you wither."

It became routine.

Each day, Nanook would feed you their energy, keeping you whole. A hand at your nape, fingers ghosting over your wrist, an arm slipping around your waist. Constant.

Every moment, you became more reliant.

Every moment, Nanook tightened their hold.

-----

"I want to go back."

Your voice was quieter than you intended, but the weight of it still hung in the air of Nanook’s realm.

The Aeon of Destruction did not answer immediately. Their form loomed above you. Their fingers, which had been idly tracing the curve of your wrist, stilled.

"You wish to leave me?"

"Not... leave" you corrected quickly, gripping their hand before they could pull away. "Just… visit. A planet. Somewhere familiar. Just for a while."

"You do not understand your place yet."

Their fingers trailed to your chin, tilting it up, forcing you to meet their gaze.

"But you will."

You expected them to refuse.

But instead, light surged around you, and before you could react—

You were falling.

When you opened your eyes, you were standing on solid ground.

The sky stretched endlessly above you, the air crisp and filled with distant voices. A city hummed with life ahead, its streets bustling, its towers standing tall.

It was beautiful.

It was alive.

For the first time in so long, you felt real again.

And yet, the moment you stepped forward, something cracked.

A distant sound. You turned sharply.

Nanook stood behind you in silence.

"Go on" they murmured. "Walk."

You frowned but obeyed, moving toward the city. And as you did, the streets darkened, the lights flickered, the air grew heavier. A ripple of unease spread through the people, their voices faltering, their steps slowing. You barely noticed it at first. But then a single, horrifying scream ripped through the air. Buildings trembled. Glass shattered. A wave of unseen force spread outward, like a silent explosion tearing through the city.

You stopped.

The destruction stopped.

Your breath came fast, uneven. Your hands were shaking. Your presence alone had done this.

"Do you understand now?"

"You were never meant to walk among them."

You turned to them, chest heaving, the weight of reality crashing down on you.

"This is why you will never leave me."

Nanook stepped closer, fingers brushing against your cheek—not cruel, not forceful. Just… inevitable.

"You belong at my side."

Their lips ghosted over your ear, their voice a whisper of divine possession.

"Come home."

And despite everything—despite the fear, the sorrow, the ruin you had witnessed, you did.

Because Nanook was right.

One moment you were still on the planet, the next you were back in Nanook’s realm. You barely had time to catch your breath before warm hands were on you.

"You see now" Nanook murmured, drawing you closer, deeper into their grasp. "There is nothing for you beyond me."

You had fought for so long, fought against the weight of your own existence, fought against the inevitability of Nanook’s grasp.

But now, standing before them, shaken and drained, you felt the exhaustion settle into your bones. You felt the relief of being caught.

Of being wanted, despite it all.

"I have you" they whispered against your ear, their touch firm, unrelenting.

"I will always have you."

The next breath you took was shaky. Nanook’s presence was too much—too close, too overwhelming.

Their fingers traced over your wrist, the touch left an energy that thrummed beneath your skin, lighting your nerves aflame.

"You were made to fit into my hands" they murmured. Heat curled in your stomach at their tone.

Their lips brushed against your temple, soft at first. Then your cheek.

Your breath hitched as you felt their warmth ghost over your skin, testing, savoring. Their grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly, pulling you flush against them.

"You need me" Nanook whispered against your pulse, their lips barely skimming it.

You swallowed hard, your body betraying you—leaning into them.

"Say it."

Your fingers curled into their clothes, nails pressing against them in silent defiance. But your body had already surrendered.

"Say that you are mine."

"I’m yours."

The words left your lips barely above a whisper—shaky, breathless.

But Nanook heard.

"Good."

"You belong to me. No one else will ever hold you like this. No one else will ever touch you like this."

You let them guide you, let them mold you into the shape they desired. Let them worship you.

"Mine"

And you accepted it.

Death, once a pair of hands, has also split us in two, never to touch each other again.

— ⟢ CASTORICE —✧— “EPITAPH” ⟣ —

when the side story is so tragic, you're bawling—but you can't look away because the art is so breathtaking. (⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠෴⁠ ⁠༎ຶ⁠)

"Even now, I still love you. I've loved you for so long, and emotions built over such a long time... Don't go out in an instant like a candle."

'At least pretend to be sorry. That way, I'll resent you a bit less.'

'How long must i have to suffer and yearn for you in the name of love?'

— Secret lady, side story.

i can't relate to this cuz he doesn't post nor give two shits about social media. JUST ONE FUCKING PICTURE IS ALL I WANT MAN

When you send her a grey sweatpants picture...

Mine to Protect, Mine to Own

art from pinterest

yandere mafia classmate x reader

Nicolò Dellabarca had always been a mystery.

You weren’t close. You had only worked together on a class project once. He was efficient, quiet, and surprisingly attentive, but the partnership ended without much conversation.

Still, something always felt off about him.

He was cold with others but different around you. He never spoke unless necessary, yet his presence loomed over you like a shadow. Whenever you turned your head, you found his sharp blue eyes watching you, unreadable but focused.

At first, you ignored it.

Then, small things started happening.

One night, when you were leaving campus late, a stranger had followed you for a few blocks—until a black car pulled up, and the man suddenly disappeared. The next day, a few guys from your class who had been bothering you stopped showing up. And once, when you almost tripped on the stairs, Nicolò had been there, catching your arm before you even realized he was close.

"Careful."

His voice had been deep, steady. He had let go quickly, looking almost flustered.

You should have put the pieces together then.

But you didn’t—until the night you were taken.

It happened fast. A car pulled up. A group of men stepped out. Before you could scream, a hand covered your mouth.

You fought, kicking and struggling, but everything faded into darkness.

Your first thought upon waking was: This is too comfortable to be a basement.

A thick blanket covered you. A fireplace crackled nearby. The room smelled of expensive wood and something faintly floral.

For a second, you thought you were dreaming—until the door opened.

"Mom, what do you mean you have a surprise for me? It better not be another—"

The voice stopped.

You turned your head—and froze.

Nicolò.

His blue eyes went wide. His usual cold expression shattered, replaced by something you had never seen before: panic.

He slammed the door shut behind him.

"Mom..." His voice was sharp, but there was something almost desperate beneath it. "What did you do?"

From behind the door, a light, cheery voice replied.

"Oh, relax, sweetheart. I just helped you a little."

Nicolò let out a shaky breath. "This is not helping."

He turned back to you.

You met his gaze, your body rigid.

"...What the hell is going on?"

The door opened again, and a woman stepped inside.

She was beautiful—dark-haired, elegant, and radiating control. She held a glass of water and smiled at you as if you weren’t just kidnapped.

"You must be thirsty," she said, offering the glass.

You didn’t take it.

"Who are you?"

Her lips curled. "You can call me Isabella. I’m Nicolò’s mother."

Your stomach twisted.

"And why did your men kidnap me?"

She sighed as if this were a mild inconvenience. "Because my son is terrible at taking what he wants."

You turned to Nicolò, waiting for him to deny it.

He didn’t.

His fists clenched at his sides, his breathing shallow.

You took a slow step back. "You let this happen?"

"I—I didn’t know—" He cut himself off, rubbing his face. "Mamma, why would you do this?"

Isabella chuckled. "Oh, Nicolò, don’t be so dramatic. You were never going to make the first move, so I gave you a little push."

You scoffed. "Push?! You kidnapped me!"

Isabella tilted her head. "And yet, you’re perfectly safe, aren’t you?"

Your blood ran cold.

She stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. "Do you know how many people have been watching you? Waiting for you to be alone? Do you really think walking home alone at night was ever safe?"

You swallowed hard.

She smiled. "You needed to be taken, darling. If not by us, then by someone worse."

You clenched your fists. "That’s bullshit."

Nicolò finally spoke, his voice low. "It’s not."

Your chest tightened.

You turned to him, searching his face. "Then let me go."

His jaw clenched.

He didn’t answer.

Because you both knew the truth.

There was no leaving.

-

The Dellabarca estate was suffocatingly grand. Every hallway was lined with paintings, every door guarded.

And now, you were seated at an impossibly long dining table, facing the people who had stolen you.

Nicolò sat stiffly at the head of the table, shoulders tense. Across from him sat a man you had yet to meet.

Giovanni Dellabarca.

His father.

The room felt colder with him in it. His presence was overwhelming—calm, composed, and dangerous.

"So," Giovanni finally said, swirling his wine. "You have fire. I like that."

You set your fork down sharply. "I don’t care what you like."

Nicolò inhaled sharply beside you.

Giovanni smirked. "Feisty. Just like your mother, eh, Isabella?"

His wife chuckled. "Oh, absolutely. I see so much of myself in them."

Your stomach churned. "I am nothing like you."

Isabella smiled knowingly. "Oh, but you are." She leaned in slightly. "You think I wanted this life? That I chose it?"

You stilled.

"I hated Giovanni at first," she continued. "I fought, I screamed, I ran—but in the end, I understood."

She turned to her husband, her gaze softening. "Love in this world isn’t sweet. It’s fierce. It’s possession. And once you understand that..."

She looked back at you, her expression almost pitying.

"...it’s easier."

Your hands shook.

Giovanni exhaled, setting down his glass. "You’ll come around. She did."

Your skin burned with anger. "I am not her."

For a moment, Giovanni studied you.

Then—unexpectedly—he laughed.

Nicolò stiffened.

"You know," Giovanni mused, "when Isabella first entered my life, she hated me just as much as you hate my son now."

You clenched your fists. "Good."

His smirk didn’t falter.

"Yet, here we are."

Your blood ran cold.

Nicolò suddenly stood. "Enough."

Giovanni’s brow lifted. "Touched a nerve?"

Nicolò’s hands curled into fists. "They don’t need to hear this." His voice was sharp, controlled—but his eyes flickered with something desperate.

He turned to you, his voice lower. "Come on. I’ll take you back to your room."

You hesitated.

Then, without another word, you followed him out.

As soon as the door shut behind you, Nicolò let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his dark hair. His shoulders, always so rigid around his family, slumped slightly.

"Dio mio, that was a disaster."

You folded your arms. "That’s an understatement."

He turned to face you. For the first time since you woke up in this house, he looked directly at you—really looked at you. His piercing blue eyes, usually so cold, held something else now. Something desperate.

"...Are you okay?"

The words were so quiet, so gentle, they made your stomach twist.

You wanted to lash out. To scream at him. To tell him no, I am not okay, you psychotic bastard—your family kidnapped me!

But something about the way he was looking at you—like he was hurting just from seeing you upset—made your breath catch.

You clenched your fists. "...No. I’m not."

His jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists at his sides like he wanted to punch a wall—or worse, like he wanted to hold you but didn’t know if he was allowed.

"You—" His voice caught. He exhaled through his nose, composing himself before trying again. "You don’t understand."

Your eyes narrowed. "Understand what, Nicolò? That you let your mother steal me? That I’m being held hostage in your house?"

His expression twisted.

Then, before you could react, he moved.

Fast.

He was in front of you in an instant, his large frame towering over yours. One of his hands slammed against the door beside your head, caging you in. The other reached for your wrist, wrapping around it—not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough that you couldn’t pull away.

You sucked in a sharp breath.

His eyes, those sharp, ice-blue eyes, burned into yours.

"You think I wanted this?" His voice was low, rough, almost shaking. "You think I wanted them to touch you? To take you before I could—before I—"

He cut himself off, his breath ragged.

You swallowed hard. "Before you what, Nicolò?"

His fingers twitched against your wrist.

His lips parted like he was going to answer—but he hesitated. His breathing was heavy, his jaw tight.

Then, quietly—so softly it sent a shiver down your spine—he whispered:

"Before I could make you mine."

Your stomach dropped.

His grip on your wrist tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over your pulse. He could feel how fast your heart was racing. His expression darkened, something dangerously close to satisfaction flickering across his face.

"You don’t get it, cara mia." His voice was almost gentle now, a sick contrast to the possessiveness dripping from his words. "You were never safe outside. They were watching you. Waiting for an opportunity."

His free hand rose, his knuckles grazing your cheek.

"I was the only thing keeping you safe."

Your breath hitched.

His fingers trailed down to your jaw, tilting your chin up so you couldn’t look away.

"You hate me now," he murmured. "That’s fine. You can hate me all you want." His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, slow, deliberate. "But you belong to me, whether you like it or not."

Your entire body tensed. "I belong to no one."

His expression flickered—hurt, frustration, something deeper—but it was gone in an instant. Instead, his lips curved into something that made your blood run cold.

A smirk.

"Say that again in a few months," he murmured, voice almost teasing. Almost sweet.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

"We’ll see if you still believe that then."

And just like that, he let go.

You stumbled back, heart hammering, but he just straightened his posture, rolling his shoulders like nothing had happened.

His cold mask was back in place.

He turned away from you, walking toward the door.

"I’ll have someone bring you food," he said casually, as if he hadn’t just claimed you as his own. "Get some rest."

You gritted your teeth. "I’m not staying here."

Nicolò stopped.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

Then, slowly, he turned his head to the side—just enough for you to see the dangerous glint in his eyes.

"You don’t have a choice, amore."

And with that, he walked out, locking the door behind him.

This is inspirated by c.ai bot and it was made by @Strawberry_88

NEOBEAST LINGGGGGG WAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH 😭😭😭😭