Synopsis: You haven’t been eating. Your captor brings home takeout.
Word Count: 1165
Notes: yandere, depression, mentions of malnutrition and injuries
Dabi shuts the front door of the apartment you two share with an unusual gentleness, dangling a large bag of take-out in one hand and the keys for the myriad of locks he’s installed in the other. He normally likes to make a show of coming home–keys jangling, door slamming, anything to get you riled up and tense and reacting. But since you’ve fallen so deep into your… funk, as he calls it, he’s been strangely quiet. Truth be told, he’s afraid that his usual loud noises and intense demeanor might shock you into some further place inside you, making you infinitely harder to reach.
So it’s with this careful quiet that he enters your bedroom, noting with a frown that you’re in practically the same position as when he left. Curled up on your mattress, holding a small, ratty pillow to your chest. You turned over at some point–that’s something, at least.
“Hey,” he says, casually–with more practiced effort, it must be said. He tried being his usual snarky self with you at first, thinking you were being stubborn and pouty when you refused to get out of bed or even respond to him. But even nasty threats hadn’t coerced you to react more than glancing at him, eyes unusually dull. A healing burn on your arm, a last ditch-attempt on his part, was testament to just how deep you’d fallen in.
Characters: M!Whitney x F!Reader x M!Sydney (she/her pronouns, reader wears a skirt, 2 x “good girl”)
Genre: 18+ Smut
Warnings/Content: Poly/throuple. Non-penetrative sex. A few swears – and y’know, filthy smut words.
Word count: 2k
Summary: After Sydney discovers a magazine article about the illusive nipple orgasm, your boyfriends make it a competition to see who can get you off first.
Edit: I wrote another fic with the same characters - check my masterlist if you liked this one!
A/N: sorry lol I dunno why I’m like this. This is hot, right?
Mum!Sirris referenced once in passing. Whitney with a tongue stud. Sassy Fallen Syd
The library is still... but still open.
School finished a half hour ago, and the students are long gone – you can’t blame them. It’s a beautiful Friday afternoon and the sun is shining, inviting almost everyone to go outside and enjoy the weather. It’s unsurprising to find Sydney still working. At least that’s what it looks like he’s doing.
Sydney sits behind the counter, as usual – amber eyes downcast over a book. His tongue peeps gently in concentration. He’s so rapturously engrossed, in fact, that he doesn’t notice your approach. He’s caught off-guard as you speak.
“What you reading?” you smile fondly, leaning over to get a good look at whatever has Sydney so absorbed. He’s pleased to see you, letting the book settle against the top of the desk. There’s a magazine inside.
“Just doing some research,” he replies with a gentle, sleepy smile. “This came free with a delivery to Mum’s shop. It’s… an interesting read…”
You don’t doubt it. Lately, Sydney was consuming anything he could find in an effort to expand his horizons – all thanks to you, apparently. As a good girlfriend, you’ve been more than happy to support his journey to enlightenment. Perching on the edge of the counter, you crane your neck to see what had Sydney so immersed this time.
“… Nipple orgasms? That’s… a thing?” your nose wrinkles doubtfully – but Sydney seems quite confident in their newfound knowledge.
“Apparently, love,” he stands, planting a chaste kiss against the flat of your neck. The subsequent kisses aren’t quite so chaste. “Maybe it’s something we could try together?” he whispers against your flushed skin, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to prickle.
You hum and lean against him. What a good idea. Idly, you tease at the pages of the magazine, enjoying his soft lips against your neck. It’s clear he’s willing you to react, but you’re happy to let him try a little harder.
A heavy textbook slams against the counter. You’re both startled, and it’s no accident. Neither of you had noticed Whitney approach, and now he looks down at you both with an expression that’s hard to place.
His eyebrows raise as he smiles wryly. “Having fun there, slut?”
You nod, and can’t hide a smile, too. Whitney had never felt threatened by Sydney – or so he said - but they shared sort-of… a mutual rivalry when it came to your affections. You were always very happy to act as mediator.
Whitney leans over the desk, glancing over the article with disinterest. “This got you all hot and bothered?”
Sydney nips at your neck delicately, causing you to yip in response. You feel him smile against your skin, before he turns to Whitney with surprising aloofness.
“Just leave your book in the returns basket,” he drawls – stopping just short of physically shooing Whitney away. The bully isn’t impressed.
“What, you’re gonna give her one?” he scoffs, arms folding over his lean chest. “Fuck right off.”
“Actually, there’s quite a nuanced technique,” Sydney retorts, eyeing Whitney and tapping the magazine with one finger. Even you’re surprised by his conviction, and he’s not even finished. “You’d know that if you’d ever bothered to read about it, Whitney.”
Here we go.
“What, you’re a fucking expert now?” Whitney scorns, moving closer to you and possessively gliding his hands around your waist. You’re sandwiched between them, and it’s easy to feel affected by the prickling intensity with which they hold themselves. Your eyes settle on Sydney, wondering how he might respond.
“If you’re so confident, then you won’t mind demonstrating, will you?”
If Sydney’s intention is to make the bully back down, he’s going about it all wrong. Still, it’s not like you’re complaining. You notice the hint of a smile playing at the corners of Sydney’s lips which suggests he knows exactly how he intends to play this.
Whitney huffs, already unbuttoning your shirt - muttering fiercely and unable to hide his agitation. The tiny buttons of your blouse aren’t fucking helping. “If anyone’s gonna make you cum like that… it’ll be me…”
You can’t suppress a soft whimper. You don’t doubt Whitney’s confidence – you don’t doubt either of them, to be honest – and anyway, it’ll be fun to let them try. Once unbuttoned, Sydney slips your shirt from your shoulders, bunching it and stashing it somewhere out of sight. Your bra soon follows – it’s a clear flex when Whitney unhooks it with a single swift motion. Sydney will want to practice that later.
Gingerly, you scooch into the middle of the desk – levelling the playing field somewhat. Sydney and Whitney flank you, and for a brief moment, their eyes are fixed not on you, but each other. Plainly, they have no interest in hiding their growing contention.
To no one’s surprise, Whitney dives in first; too confidently, as could be predicted. He lowers his head and greedily draws one nipple into his warm, wet mouth. He’s intense, as always – tugging forcefully as he sucks, sweeping the metal of his tongue stud over you ravenously. You can tell he thinks it’s some kind of secret weapon – probably because you’ve never told him any different.
In contrast, Sydney takes his time, fingers skimming delicately over your breast. He leans closer to whisper encouraging words against your ear – you feel yourself melting a little as his long hair tickles your cheek. “Just focus on breathing, love.”
You’re already nodding faithfully in reply. Eventually, Sydney begins to tease one hardened nipple under his fingertips – featherlight as he traces soft kisses down your neck and collarbone. His soft touch invites a whinny of desire from your parted lips.
Not to be outdone, Whitney grips your jaw, roughly turning your head and assaulting you with a deep kiss. It’s all friction, tongue and teeth – hungry and rude, everything Whitney stands for. Then, he’s biting the crook of your neck restlessly as he pinches and pulls at your tit. It’s like he can’t settle down – unlike Sydney, who’s seems to know exactly what sort of delicate treatment is required.
You close your eyes, allowing a shaky breath to rattle from your lungs. There’s a soft hand holding yours. Sydney’s taking his time, still – gently nudging your breast with his nose, dusting soft kisses over soft flesh. The wet, warm blade of his tongue skims over your erect nipple, causing you to arch your back and tip your head upward.
Whitney’s rough fingers leisurely trace small circles along your inner thigh, then up and under your skirt in a familiar journey. Legs part instinctively. "Bet you’re so fucking wet for us, slut…" he growls against skin.
You groan out an answer, but it doesn’t matter – he’ll soon discover he’s not wrong. Whitney’s fingers nudge the slick surface of your underwear, easily finding the outline of your swollen clit - the thin fabric already dense and clinging. But before his fingers can sink into your core, he’s pulled away. You rumble with loss, body twisting against the counter in frustration.
“That’s against the rules, Whitney,” Sydney chides, his voice purring against you. Purposefully, he guides Whitney’s hand back into your lap. You feel the combined weight of their hands settle there – hovering infuriatingly above your centre and almost certainly on purpose.
“You’re just pissed you didn’t think of it," Whitney mutters hotly. His teeth catch against your sensitive skin, making you squeak. Then, he’s gently suckling, almost apologetically, sliding his tongue stud over your nipple and brushing against your soft skin as one rough, possessive hand roams your skin and pulls you closer.
You wish they’d stop talking and just focus. But all the same, a surprising, welcome sensation blooms in your gut, flourishing just below your bellybutton. You hadn’t expected it to feel quite like this – there’s even a gentle, promising tickle in the base of your clit. You close your eyes, narrowing your focus, fanning the embers of your stirring climax. Focus on breathing.
But’s a slow burn. There are irritating moments where they seem more interested in distracting each other than they are with getting you off – bickering annoyingly across you, competitive and vying for dominance in their own distinct way.
Unbeknownst to Sydney, the bully’s gripped your wrist and is now boorishly grinding his erection against your palm through his trousers. You’re not sure if it’s against Sydney’s rules – but you choose not to mention it. Meanwhile, Whitney’s alternating between flicking your nipple with his venomous tongue and sucking on it greedily. “Fucking sensitive, aren’t you slut?” he rumbles against your flesh, noticing you quiver.
Sydney actually scoffs, taking a moment to pull away from your breast, unable to resist a clever comeback. “You didn’t know how sensitive she is?” Sydney can’t help teasing– clearly, he’s emboldened by your reactions, and is feeling quite confident with his technique. To be fair, he should.
Still, you wish they’d shut up and concentrate.
"Please… I really need to cum..." you plead, breath quickening needily. It’s maddening – orgasm feels so close, but infuriatingly out of reach. When you focus too hard, it flutters away, slipping through your fingers like sand. Now, it’s getting hard to think of anything except being fingered roughly against the counter, or being bent over to cum hard on cock… craving release badly now as you slither pitifully against the desk, getting almost no relief thanks to the flat, frictionless surface. You’re at their mercy.
Jolts of sensation flutter and bloom in your chest, just behind Sydney’s diligent fingers. He ghosts his lips against your ear - his warm, encouraging voice eliciting another shiver. It’s possible to hear the smile in his voice. "You’ll cum, my love. Have faith."
You swallow hard, wanting to believe him. But it’s hard.
“I can’t…” you whimper, grinding down on the desk in pure frustration. Sydney places a finger to your trembling lips, but it’s Whitney who shushes you gently, nipping at your jaw, his voice low against your ear.
“Me and Temple boy are gonna make you cream that pretty pussy… so be a good girl, and shut up.”
You’re panting. Yeah, that’ll do the trick. Whitney knows it, too – his gravely dirty talk spinning you darkly closer to the edge. Climax rumbles and threatens within – muscles tightening, knees shaking…
Sydney runs his tongue over your collarbone, tweaking your nipple tenderly. “I can feel you’re close, beloved,” he coos. “Let go.”
You can’t suppress deep, shuddering moan as your orgasm crashes down, splintering through your insides; it’s as though every muscle tightens, dreadful and deep and crushing. Between your thighs, your cunt pulses – starved of anything to clamp down on but twitching delightedly all the same.
It’s surprisingly intense – there’s a moment where you can’t move – settling for gripping their hands gratefully in your own as your shattered breathing settles. Slowly, the thumping in your chest subsides too, but the tingling in your nerves lasts a little longer.
“That was my side, right?” Whitney’s too cocky – instantly, he’s fucking embarrassing sometimes. Practically euphoric, strutting annoyingly around the counter. “I fucking win!”
“That’s… not really how it works…” is all the explanation you can muster – but it’s clear he’s not listening, all-but pumping his fist in triumph.
Sydney gives you a knowing smile. “I know you’re just sparing his feelings.” You’re not exactly sure what he’s implying. He removes his glasses and wipes them with a cloth – they’re foggy. “I’m a fast learner, don’t you think?”
You smile back. Either way, Sydney will be happy to have added something new to his growing repertoire – and you’re very happy too.
“Come on, slut,” Whitney shoves your shirt rudely against your bare chest. “Get dressed, I’m taking you out to celebrate.” You roll your eyes - as usual with Whitney, it’s not clear if there’s a choice.
“No, she’s coming to Elk Street with me,” Sydney states firmly, turning towards you. He shoots an imploring, flirtatious look that’s now well-practiced and difficult to resist. “Right?”
Despite their bickering, it’s quite clear from your smug, satisfied smile that you’re the one who won today.
Scenario: Sirrius catches Sydney and PC in the act but they're too close to stop. Sydney is hiding his face in PCs shoulder but his hips havent even slowed.
love this (also long time no see lol)
MDNI
Sydney X Gn! Reader
Sydney is a godly being, in your eyes. His body toned and soft pulls in and out of you, thrusting just right and hitting all of your best spots. His mouth whispers curses and prayers alike into the shell of your ear and his teeth occasionally find themselves grazing your neck amongst it all.
His cock fills you like nothing else and you wonder if maybe the temple was right, because the two of you press so close together that it’s almost as though you are one. You join together in an unholy union so holy that you cannot help but think that heaven has found a place amongst the mortals, in whispered passions and unions of the flesh.
“Ffffuck, angel…t-taking me so—aah—well,” His voice is a breathy whimper against you and he can feel you clench hard around him in response.
His grip on your hips is tight as he fucks your hole with ever increasing fervor. His fat head presses into the place that makes you see stars and a broken pleasured sob tears its way out of your throat.
Perhaps you were too loud, or the bed was thumping too hard, or maybe it was just plain bad luck, but you’re crying out and coming hard around Sydney’s cock right as Sirris walks in.
And Sirris freezes because this is his house and how else is he supposed to react and oh my fucking god you guys aren’t stopping. Whatever broken sense of morality your science professor has starts crossing the line when he sees his kid fucking another one of his students, but Sirris can’t seem to move and his voice is stuck in his throat because you’re whimpering in humiliation and Syd has his face buried in the crook of your neck from the embarrassment but his hips are still moving and his arms move to wrap around your waist to pull you onto him harder.
“S-Sirrrrris, (you’re fucked dumb and it’s obvious to everyone in the room) give us’a min—fuck fuck fuck don’t stop—minute, ‘kay?”
Where you got the audacity to talk to Sydney’s dad (and your science instructor, you remember belatedly) like that is a mystery, but your mind is empty and all you can think of is Sydney. His hair tickling the back of your neck and the vice-like grip he has on your waist and his cock filling you up so so good and then he thrusts upward and suddenly you aren’t thinking at all.
Sydney and Sirris are very obviously father and son, but the way they both look at your fucked-dumb face only proves it more.
Sydney can’t take it anymore and cums right there on the spot, painting your insides warm and white while his dad stands right there.
And then, in a hazy post orgasm-bliss, you both realize that he is still standing there.
“Dad?” A weak and embarrassed mumble. You’d never know he was fucking you stupid a moment before by his tone of voice.
“Um…” A tense anticipation mixed with fearful anxiety fills the room.
(Fox was the best fit for Bane, but Bhaal would want him, too. More importantly: Lawrence as a Myrkulite – Lawrence as a Myrkulite ♡ ☠︎︎ I love smashing my fixations together. Mm, Baldur's Gate 3. Mm, BTD. More pretty Myrkul-Lawrence incoming.)
ask/request: hihihi!! this request may be weird but it’s late at night and im desperate lol. i’d LOVE a yandere florian (dating killmulator) x y/n fic (romantic). i think it would be awesome if cain and abel were somehow mentioned, like he’s blackmailing yn into not talking to them. idk maybe this request’s weird but I’ve just been searching desperately for smth like this
response: hiiii!! omg I was sooo happy to get this request because I love Florian, literally I picked him and never looked back lmaoo 💗 I lowkey really do think Florian would be the most yandere out of all the boys 💀 but anyways the request is not weird at all! I just hope i did it some justice 😭 this is my first time adding texts to my stories/fics, so hopefully it doesn't look weird!
Honestly, you can't believe that you're dating the man of your dreams.
Florian is so… Florian <3
You don't know how to explain it. He's just perfect. The right amount of gentle. The right amount of snarky. The right amount of everything, really.
Though you suspect he's a bit high on the possessiveness aspect now that you thought more about it.
Just the other day, he nearly punched Jose in the face because he was taking his usual crap about you.
Well, actually, that was reckless but insanely hot too. You have to admit it.
Basically, Florian was wonderful and the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.
Life finally seemed to be going well for you. You had a lovely friend group (Abel and Cain) and an even lovelier boyfriend that was also a part of that group.
That is, until…
“You should stop talking to them so much, love.” Florian remarks, peering over your shoulder to see you texting Abel.
“What do you mean?” you ask, not thinking much of it. “They just wanna hang out at the bar. It's a bit funny actually,” you laugh, “last time we went there they were on the run.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” he sighs, “They’re bad influences.”
You can’t help but frown, protective of them. “They’re not. I choose to do things on my own, and they’re so much better than Jose and Emily ever were. Besides, they’re your friends too.”
“Friends?” Florian scoffs lightly, “Darling, please. I only hang out with them because you do. We are not friends by any means.”
That makes you a bit sad.
“Well, I’m not going to stop talking to them.” you just huff. “You should go to the bar with us later. Loosen up and connect better. I know Abel and Cain consider you as a friend.”
After that, he doesn’t say anything about it to you anymore.
…
You forget about that little spat a few months later. Cain, Abel, and Florian seem to be getting along even better than before, and you’re glad.
Between the upcoming Paris trip, Cain being your art professor, Abel constantly telling the stupidest jokes, and Florian still being as romantic as ever, you’re under the illusion that life is as perfect as it’ll ever be again.
But you’ve been finding little notes all over the place. In your room, in your backpack, in your notebooks… The contents varied. Sometimes it was “I know all your secrets.” Other times it was “You don’t deserve to be around others.”’
They could be hurtful, yeah, but you blamed it on Emily and paid no mind, tossing them out.
It was fine, for the most part. You had been through worse before. If that was the best bullying that Emily could do, then it was pathetic.
You were simply having lunch with Cain and Abel before you got a text. Florian was in a counseling appointment, so you assumed he had gotten done early.
It wasn’t him though.
You didn’t even hesitate to block her. How stupid.
You frowned and rolled your eyes.
“What’s going on?” Abel asks, nosy as he peeked over your shoulder.
“Nothing,” you answer, shutting off your phone. “My dad’s just texting.”
You put your phone on “Do Not Disturb.” Paying no mind to it as you continue your conversation.
It’s not until later when you check your phone again.
You laugh it off until you scroll further down and find compromising photos of yourself.
What the actual hell.
You can’t lie, you’re a bit freaked out now.
You practically melt into Florian’s arms when he shows up at your front door, your father fast asleep in his room, thankfully.
Florian is happy to wrap his arms around you, his comforting scent calming your nerves.
He gently leads you to your room, tucking the both of you under your covers as he holds you close.
“Now, what’s going on, darling?” he asks softly, hand caressing your face.
You can’t help but come completely clean, about the harassment, the notes, bullying, text messages, and blackmail.
“I don’t know what to do,” you admit, tearful as you showed him the messages on your phone.
Honestly, you expect him to be more upset about it but he’s surprisingly calm.
“You should’ve come to me sooner,” he only sighs quietly, “My poor darling, if only you had relied on me earlier they wouldn’t have needed to rely on such foul tactics.”
You can only sniffle into his chest, tears streaming down your face.
“I don’t think Cain and Abel will judge me, even if my photos are leaked…” you try to comfort yourself.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Florian adds, “You don’t know them like I do… you don’t study the human mind and behavior like me, love. They’re the type of people to use you and then stab you in the back. As awful as I feel to say it, I agree with your little blackmailer.”
Florian was smart. You knew that for a fact. So maybe he was right and you were just being irrational.
“Besides, if you stop talking to them, the harassment will stop, right?”
You nod miserably against his chin.
“But they’re my friends.” you mumble.
“That’s what they want you to think,” Florian tuts gently. “Don’t worry, darling. You’ll still have me. That’s all you need, right?”
“You’re right,” you sniffle again. “I only need you. As long as I have you then it’ll be alright.”
Florian’s smile tugs up at that, nearly sinister as his cheeks turned a rosy red. You were too busy hiding your face in his neck to notice.
…
After that, you started avoiding Abel and Cain. You didn’t reply to their texts, didn’t hang out during lunch, and barely talked to either of them.
You missed them honestly, but Florian kept telling you it was all for the better.
The mysterious notes and text messages stopped as well.
“Stay behind class, [Name].” Cain’s voice draws you out of your thoughts. “You’re falling behind.”
You know for a fact that you’re not falling behind, so you know exactly what this is about. You know better than to argue with your “professor” in front of everyone else though.
“What do you want?” you huff at the end of class once all the other students have trickled out of the classroom.
“You mean what do we want?” Abel pops out from under Cain’s desk, like a rabbit being pulled out of a magician’s hat.
You can’t help but laugh. Gods you missed them so much.
“Really? Laughing at a time like this?” Cain raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Dear Abel, they’ve actually gone insane.”
“I’m afraid so,” Abel just sighs sadly, leaning against the desk seductively. “They weren't even given enough time to appreciate how much muscle I’ve gained in the time frame of them ignoring us." he pouts playfully.
“I’m not ignoring you two,” you interject.
They give you a look.
“Okay, fine. So what if I’ve been ignoring you two?” you admit.
“Is it because of your boyfriend?” Abel asks, sticking his tongue out. “I never thought you two were a good match.”
“It is not because of Florian,” you huff. “Him and I are doing perfectly fine, thank you.”
“If that’s the case then why are you ignoring us and not him?” Cain asks.
It’s a game of push and pull before you tell them the truth.
“I’ve been getting blackmailed.” you sigh.
“You went down with something as simple as blackmail?” Cain can’t help but poke fun at you, though he does look concerned.
“What have you been doing to be so easily controlled?” Abel furrows his brows together, skeptical. “It’s not like you’ve killed someone… and like, even if you did it’s not like we’d judge you for it.”
Their words make you feel at ease. You knew they were friends. You don’t know why you would ever doubt them.
You showed them the messages, all the content that was going to be used to blackmail you now exposed on your own accord.
“Seriously,” Abel laughs, “You look hilarious, if anything I’d make these pictures my new reaction pics, not like, harass you over them.”
“I really did think you were smart once,” Cain only sighs, scrolling through the rest of your messages. “I take that false preconception back. You’re incredibly stupid.”
You can’t help but be a bit offended. “It’s completely natural to feel threatened in this case-” you start to defend yourself.
“No, not about that.” Cain rolls his eyes. “This is your boyfriend.”
You blink, “What?”
“This unknown number. Your boyfriend is blackmailing you.” Cain expands, sliding your phone back to you.
You feel like your whole world just crashed down on you. It’s all clicking together now.
You can’t believe how much you blindly trusted him.
“Awkwarrrddd…” Abel breaks the silence. “Told you he seemed fishy.”
“I think… I’ll confirm with him later,” you mutter, a bit shaken. “But I’m just glad I don’t have to keep avoiding you two.”
“Are you sure you want to be alone with him?” Cain asks.
“It’ll be fine.” you say, assuring yourself more than them. “Florian isn’t like that.”
You would regret saying that in a little bit.
…
You go to Florian’s office later in the afternoon, still trying to figure out why he would do something like that.
“Hello, love,” he greets you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“Hi,” you say back, not with a pet name or an affectionate return.
“I talked to Cain and Abel today.” you tell him.
You can see his face visibly darken in displeasure.
“Were you the one blackmailing me?” you confront him.
“What are you talking about?” he only acts clueless. “Why would I ever, ever, do that to you?” he frowns.
“You truly hurt my feelings,” he says. “What lies are those friends of yours feeding you?”
You're getting tired of this. Couldn't he just be honest for once?
“I’m being serious Florian, tell me the truth!” you yell, getting tired of this loop of lies.
He returns your frown, dropping his act. “If that’s how you want to play, then so be it.”
His hands grasp your neck as he shoves you against the wall, his thin fingers suffocating you as you claw at his arms.
“All you had to do was be a good darling and listen to me.” he sighs softly. “Now, look at what you’ve done. You’ve gone and made things difficult for both of us.”
You gasp for breath, but you can’t freaking breathe and it’s not long before your consciousness slips away.
…
You wake up in a cold place.
Your eyes are covered completely, and trying to stretch came with the realization that your hands and legs were bound with something sticky.
Your neck ached.
Oh. Now you remember why.
Florian, your perfect boyfriend, choked you.
Apparently, not to death.
You struggled against the constraints for a while before giving up. The first thing you needed to figure out was how to get the blindfold off.
A low chuckle sounds beside your ear before the blindfold is untied.
How long had he been there, watching you squirm?
“Good morning dearest,” Florian has the gall to smile as he gets on his knees, laying his head on your lap lovingly.
You would kick him, but your legs are tied to the chair.
“Why?” you simply ask, voice hoarse and dry.
“I didn’t want to darling, I really didn’t,” Florian only says. “You made me do this. We could’ve stayed the same if only you listened to me and stopped talking to those two murderers.”
“It was going so well,” he sighs, as if deeply saddened, “you were listening so well, until they tainted you again. That’s why you have to stay here now, where no one can talk to you again. Where no one can touch you. No one, but me.”
“You’re insane.” you spit out.
“Clinically? No. But insane for you? Of course, darling.”
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