A Silent Obsession || Yanderisch Feitan x Oc

Possessive X Desires

Feitan's grip tightened around Hana's wrist, his fingers cold but firm. His sharp gaze looked onto her's. And for a moment, neither of them spoke. His lips barely parted as his voice, usually calm and threatening, came out in a barely contained whisper.

"You're mine" he said, his words a quiet declaration as if he were reminding both her and himself. There was no question in his tone,  only an underlying sense of certainty that left no room for doubt.

She doesen't flinch at his touch. In fact, she welcomes it. There was a strange thrill in knowing how deeply he desired her, how far he was willing to go to keep her by his side. She had always known to play the game of manipulation and seduction, but with Feitan,  the lines were always being shifting. It wasn't just desire. It was something darker. A hunger. A need.

With a slow, deliberate motion, she steps closer, her breath barely grazing his ear. "Do you think I'm going anywhere?" She purred, her voice dripping with sweetness, but laced with something far more dangerous. She feels the heat of his body, the tension that simmered beneath the surface, threatening to erupt any moment.

Feitan's eyes flickered, and for the first time, something almost human seemed to stir beneath the usual cold, impassive exterior. His lips parted, revealing just the hint of a smile—one that never reached his eyes.

"No", he replied simply, and then, as if he reminding himself, "You belong to me."

The words sent a chill down her spine, but it was the type of chill that felt more like a thrill. It was a twisted kind of affection, and as much as it unnerved her, it was something she secretly carved. Hana titled her head,  studying his face, knowing that the beneath the surface, Feitan was already more than entangled in his own obsession than he cared to admit.

Her hand reached out, fingers across the cold metal of his armor, tracing the intricate designs with deliberate slowness. Feitan's breath hitched, but he didn't pull away. In fact, his grip on her wrist grew tighter, almost possessive.

"Feitan" she whispered, with a soft voice, almost teasing challenge. "What are you going to do if I try to leave ?"

His eyes narrowed, and for the briefest moment, a dark flash of rage crossed his features. It was as if she had touched a hidden nerve. But just as quickly, as it was gone, replaced by that same unreadable expression.

He stepped back slightly, eyes never leaving hers. "You won't leave" he said with finality. "You can't"

Hana smiles, a slow, a calculated curve of her lips. "Is that so?" She asks with a voice of soft threat

Feitan didn't answer. Instead he turned his back to her,  walking away with an unspoken promised in his step. So Hana knew he wouldn't let her go. Not now, not ever. And somewhere deep inside,  a part of her didn't want to escape.