#clockwork’s so manipulative guys

[ectospacecadet]

Just wanted to add to this.

So Danny’s just gone through all of the events of AGIT, right? He went through struggling to work through his powers slowly becoming diminished and was getting a bit of imposter syndrome/depressed(?) over it.

He finds the source of a Ghost’s power and uses that knowledge to give himself a whole new purpose and is probably the most at peace with himself he’s been in the past couple of years, to the point where he has a new firework ectoblast power thing.

So he’s gone through all of the lows and highs in this novel, yeah? Then once Clockwork is saved from the fusion between him and Phantom (Dark Danny) he says this.

It feels more like a ‘have a gold star’ comment than an actual thank you, that and Clockwork sees all the different paths of the time stream.

So after all of that he pulls Team Phantom out of the timestream to see the damage caused by the events.

Now, first of all, let’s just look at what Clockwork says here, not all of the other timelines were compressed, but the ones that were the most corrupted were compressed into two stable timelines, so that was just a casual multiversal/AU genocide he pulled. That also technically means Danny’s original timeline parents are now gone/erased and are going to be replaced by whatever the new timestream manages to make for him.

Let’s look at the generous options Clockwork offers to Danny shall we? :3

Door 1: Everything goes back to normal and you have no powers. So all of this personal growth you’ve gone on and the life’s purpose you’ve given yourself will be made void.

Door 2: Everything goes back to normal, but you’ll have your powers and secret identity back. Also you wont receive any acclaim to the events of [REDACTED].

So option A: I fix it all and you don’t get to be the hero you currently know you want to be, who knows what’ll become of ghosts and humans?Option B: I fix it all but you go back to secrecy and have your powers, also you can fulfil your ‘self-given’ role.

Idk guys, which would you choose after going through EVERYTHING? The shiny turd or the pile of gold? XD

Clockwork SO wants whatever outcome to happen happen.

Danny: I’m gonna declare my new life’s purpose!

Clockwork: 😏

Dude you SO wanted all of this to happen.

Even this piece by @pichikui show’s Clockwork towering over the 3 here, Clockwork’s pulling some strings my guys. There’s no way he would lose that easily to Phantom, he had every way to stop him from fusing with his ghost form.

[prythiansprincess]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ best friend! enzo who is a little manipulative. ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

enzo comes off as so sweet and caring (and he is, but he also has a dark side).

he's the guy best friend that every boyfriend worries about. specifically, your boyfriend. the two of you are so close, practically attached at the hip, but you swear that nothing is going on between you two.

you're just really good friends; just friends.

there's no reason to be jealous.

you don't even see enzo like that.

there's absolutely no way that your innocent best friend would ever think of you that way either.

of course he'd never steal your favorite scrunchie — the pink one with little yellow daisies on it — just to spray it with your vanilla scented perfume and wear it on his wrist while getting himself off in his restroom, panting and pressing his forehead against the closed door, peeking through the opening to watch you make yourself comfortable in his shirt, his sweats, in his bed. the sight of it alone drives him over the edge, making him cum all over his fingers as he chokes down filthy moans of your name.

enzo definitely doesn't take a different girl to bed every night, wishing it was you underneath him, moaning and screaming his name instead of whatever random he settled on because he couldn't get to you.

cause really they're just distractions before you finally figure out that the two of you are meant to be together.

best friend! enzo has dropped so many hints over the years, he's not been subtle at all about it, but you insist that you're just friends. enzo thinks it's cute how blind and oblivious you are. but he doesn't think it's cute when you start dating your loser boyfriend.

he hates his fucking guts.

you're his girl. you belong to enzo and enzo alone. doesn't that stupid twat know that?

it's fine, though. enzo knows he'll win in the end. he has a plan.

he'll do whatever it takes to drive a wedge between you and your boyfriend; chipping away at the relationship bit by crumbling bit. enzo does everything in his power to make him seem like a terrible boyfriend.

he doesn't stop any of the cuddly affectionate best friend behavior cause why should he? who cares if you have a boyfriend? he's just for now; enzo is forever.

・❥・ best friend! enzo would give you flowers and chocolates when you ace your exams.

・❥・ best friend! enzo would pick up your favorite tea and stationary when he's at hogsmeade.

・❥・ best friend! enzo would come over with a heating pad and snacks when you're on your period.

ofc your boyfriend doesn't like this, he tries to tell you that enzo is crossing a line and you're just letting him. but you tell him that he's being ridiculous; enzo is your best friend.

you often have fights about enzo, because the little shit will purposely do things to piss your boyfriend off.

・❥・ jumping up at the chance to give you his hoodie to wear when you're feeling cold.

・❥・ leaning in so close to you while you're standing by your locker, whispering things in your ear to make you smile and laugh.

・❥・ leading you by the small of your back when the two of you are in a large crowd cause he knows it makes you anxious.

best friend! enzo does all of this in front of your boyfriend because he literally just doesn't care.

every time you have a fight, enzo comes to the rescue. it's like he has a sixth sense for it (he bugged one of your stuffed animals so he can listen in on your conversations).

like clockwork, enzo is at your door with a movie and snacks to take your mind off of things. cuddling you up in a fuzzy blanket and hugging you tight and stroking your hair while you sit and sniffle on his lap.

"another fight again? you don't deserve any of that. if I were him, I'd never make you cry, honey."

hand sliding up your back, rubbing soothing circles while he wipes the tears away. kissing your forehead and playing with your hair to comfort you.

"s'kay. i'm here for you. let it all out, sweetheart."

he hates seeing you upset, but he loves that it gives him a chance to push the boundaries. so what if you're spooning? you used to do it before, you should still be able to do it now.

best friend! enzo loves to hold you tight, his chin tucked into your shoulder while he brushes his knuckles over you ribs, the sensation of his cold rings against your skin making you shiver involuntarily.

"are you cold, honey? here, come snuggle."

just as an excuse to press his dick against your ass. like he pretends to be this golden retriever sweetheart but your best friend is shrewd and calculating. he knows how to push your buttons.

always making little comments like:

・❥・ "oh he left you to hang out with his friends? that seems a bit selfish, doesn't it?"

・❥・ "he doesn't want to take you to your favorite restaurant? don't worry, honey. I already made a reservation."

・❥・ "he forgot to give you flowers for your anniversary? that's okay, sweetheart, I picked out this bouquet for you just in case."

best friend! enzo is working overtime, but that's okay because it's all going to pay off.

cause one night when him and the boys are hanging out in the common room, you come stumbling in, obviously looking for him — teary eyed and sad.

enzo immediately ditches the boys to comfort you. taking you up to his dorm so you can talk in private.

"what's wrong, sweetheart? I hate seeing you so upset."

"we...we broke up."

best friend! enzo hugging you and whispering soothing words in your ear, "oh no, honey. come here, tell me all about it."

all the while he's smiling because hell yeah he finally got rid of that prick.

you're sniffling, telling him that you had the fight to end all fights.

"what was it this time?"

you tell enzo that the two of you fought about him, how enzo doesn't respect your boyfriend and that he's always undermining him and obviously plotting to break up your relationship so he can have you all to himself.

and your boyfriend is obviously 100% right.

but enzo tells you that your boyfriend is just insecure because he knows he isn't right for you.

"I know, and I realized that when he tried to make me choose." "what do you mean?" "he said I had to choose between you. it was either him or you." his heart stops when you look up at him, glassy eyed and pouting. "and I chose you." enzo kisses your tears away, peppering soft little pecks on your cheeks. "you didn't have to do that, honey." "of course I did, enz. I'd rather lose a boyfriend than my best friend." best friend! enzo leans in closer until your noses touch, his hand coming up ever so slowly to gently cradle your jaw. "I’m glad you chose me, y/n." "you were a better boyfriend than he ever was anyways. he couldn't even remember my favorite flowers."

"peonies," enzo says confidently while staring at you with those big puppy dog eyes. "you like them cause they bloom in the spring and they only last a week, so it makes them extra special."

"you remembered that?"

"I remember everything you tell me, honey. I know you better than anyone. your boyfriend knew that and that's why he tried to come between us. he was jealous of what we have."

best friend! enzo mumbling all of this with his eyes closed, nose to nose with his big hands gripping your hips as he holds you in place.

"but he had no reason to be jealous, right?" you whisper as his hands travel underneath your shirt, his callouses rough and scratchy against your exposed skin.

enzo shakes his head, coming closer and closer until the gap between the two of you is basically nonexistent.

"of course not, sweetheart. we're friends, right?" licking his lips while his lashes brush against your cheek. "and friends comfort each other and help them forget all about their shitty exes."

enzo’s lips are basically touching yours as you sigh, melting into him. "they do?"

"mhm," enzo mumbles against your lips. "let me show you."

he knows he shouldn’t. he should probably wait, but enzo doesn’t really give a fuck. he’s waited too long. he wants you and he’s gonna show you exactly how much.

best friend! enzo cradles your cheek and gives a look that makes you melt. you hold your breath as the gap between you closes. butterflies erupt in your stomach as his lips press against yours, the pressure of his kisses making you sigh softly into his mouth.

he’s definitely pushing it. this could be a disaster. you could push him away and it would ruin the entire friendship. but you don't.

you do nothing to stop him. if anything, you kiss enzo back just as eagerly. cause his lips are so soft and he tastes like peaches and you can’t really think straight with his big hands gripping your hips so roughly, squeezing your ass while he moves you over his lap.

his big hands moving higher and higher till he’s feeling you up, slipping a hand under your bra to cup your breasts. distracting you with hungry kisses that make you feel dizzy. all you can do is wrap your arms around his neck and tug at his hair because wow enzo can kiss.

best friend! enzo puts his whole body into it, he moans like a whore into your mouth when you accidentally roll your hips. there's a smile on his face when you finally pull away and enzo is pleased to find you glassy eyed and kiss bitten.

then he's diving back in to eat. slipping some tongue in there to really rob you of all thought like there’s not a single thing on your mind right now but enzo, enzo, enzo.

manhandling you so that the two of you are in a spooning position and making you whine cause all you want to do is to keep kissing him, but enzo just shushes you.

best friend! enzo leaves hot, sloppy kisses on your neck while he slips a hand underneath your sweats.

"told you i'd make you feel better, honey," he says in that rough sexy deep voice. "are you gonna let me?" you gasp when he rubs over your panties. "please, enz." the neediness in your voice makes enzo smirk against your neck. "good girl."

then he's tugging your panties aside, rubbing your slick all over and groaning into your ear. teasing with one finger, easing in so it makes a filthy squelching sound.

"so eager for your best friend, hm? you’re dripping, honey."

all you can do is whimper as he adds another finger, curling those long, slender digits inside of you while you gasp and moan.

"don't worry, sweetheart. I'll take real good care of you."

best friend! enzo fingers you until your eyes roll back while his other hand squeezes your tits. he’s insatiable, there’s no stopping him now. enzo scissors his fingers inside of your soaking wet pussy, spreading you wide and marveling at the sight of you greedily riding his hand.

his sweet girl is just so desperate and needy. but enzo is more than happy to help, pressing his thumb down on your clit and whispering filthy things in your ear as he coaxes you to cum for him.

the orgasm tears through you, making your whole body shudder as you ride out the high. the comedown has you seeing stars, flinging you into the far corners of space, but enzo is right there, his mouth a hot brand against your skin as he leaves love bites and teeth marks on your neck.

"you sound so pretty moaning my name, but I wanna hear you scream it, honey."

best friend! enzo hoists your leg back so he can line up. you can’t help but whine as he teases you with the head of his cock, those shallow little thrusts setting your teeth on edge.

you want him so bad you’d beg at this point.

best friend! enzo knows this. all those months of plotting and scheming brought the two of you up to this point. this is it. this is the moment.

as much as he wants to fuck you senseless, enzo restrains himself, hovering at your entrance as he releases a long suffering sigh.

"best friends don't do this, baby."

enzo pretends to stop so he can watch you panic, mascara streaking down your cheeks while you whine and groan. you’re aching for him. you need him so badly that it hurts.

"enzo, don't stop. please. I need more." "hm, so do I honey." he murmurs into your neck. "but you'll have to say the magic words for that to happen." "what is it? I'll do whatever you want." "say you're mine," enzo says while his fingers possessively wrap around your throat. "say that you belong to me." "but - but - we're friends." your head is spinning, barely able to speak as enzo squeezes. "sure, baby, and the sky is red."

his little smirk is the first glimpse that you get of his hidden manipulative side and oh it suddenly clicks that your ex-boyfriend was right all along, enzo has been scheming and manipulating and plotting for this to happen from the very beginning.

and you should be repulsed by it, but fuck why is it so hot?

"you've been planning this all along."

enzo shrugs nonchalantly. "what can I say, baby? I know what I want and I get what I want. I wasn't going to let your stupid little boyfriend get in the way of that."

"that's wrong - you shouldn't have -" gasping when enzo slips in a little more, stretching you out.

"you can be mad at me later, honey. but right now, let me convince you that I was the right choice."

"we shouldn't -" you start to protest, but it's half hearted. you already forgot what you were about to say as soon as enzo kisses your neck. he sucks at your earlobe, his breaths hot and ragged while he slowly grinds against you. both of you know that you're close to breaking.

"don't you want to feel me stretching you out, getting so deep that you feel me in your guts? I know you want it, baby. you just have to say the words."

you don't even try to fight it, because why would you? enzo would go to the ends of the world for you, that much was obvious. he wanted you - no, he needed you, and he'd stop at nothing to get you.

for the first time in your friendship, you know exactly how it feels.

so you turn over to look at him, pretty eyes brimming with tears because it hurts not to have him inside of you. "I'm yours, enzo. I belong to you."

best friend! enzo gives you a messy, filthy kiss as he finally slips all the way in. you gasp, fingernails sinking into his back as his thick cock stretches your walls. you can feel him throbbing inside of your pussy, every ridge and vein increasing your pleasure as he fully sheathes himself in your warmth.

"wanted to do this for so long," enzo grunts, nearly dizzy with how tightly you’re squeezing around him. fuck, you’re so perfect and you don’t even know it. "I love watching you fall apart on my cock. this pussy is mine and so are you. you’ve always been mine, baby.”

"I don't care that I had to lie and cheat to get you. now that I’ve got you, I'm never letting you go, honey."

meanwhile you’re reduced to a whimpering mess. you writhe and arch against the bed, wanting more and more of him.

"do you think it was easy watching him hug you, kiss you, touch you?" thrusting in so sharply as he fucks all of his frustrations out. "it was fucking hell, but I don't mind playing the long game. you should know there isn't a line I wouldn't cross when it comes to you."

the words make you moan and clench, because god this side of him is just so unhinged and sexy.

"it's a good thing I chose you, then."

and that makes enzo smile, flashing you that sweet disarming look before absolutely railing the fuck out of you.

best friend! enzo rolls over on his back and positions you on top of him, driving in deep and fucking you until you’re a blubbering mess, blissed out on his cock. enzo rubs your clit, urging you closer and closer to the edge.

"that's it, sweet girl. let go, I've got you."

best friend! enzo kisses your shoulders as his orgasm builds. enzo melts when you lift his hand up to your lips, kissing his knuckles so tenderly that his heart clenches at the sight of it. the sweet gesture sends him over the edge. his thrusts turn sloppy as he paints your walls with his cum, filling you up until he’s dripping out of your pussy and making a mess of his sheets.

the two of you lay in silence for a moment, his big arms wrapping around you as he places a kiss on your temple.

you snuggle closer, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "I'm still very mad at you, you know."

and best friend! enzo just smiles cause he knows you don’t really mean it. you never could stay mad at him for too long.

"would eating your pussy until you cry count as an apology?"

"enzo!"

"can't blame a guy for trying."

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Allure

Part One:Sunshine

❥MATZ x fem reader

Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa. The most known and feared alphas of the new generation. It took two dozen elder alphas to subdue them and stick them in the world's most secluded prison- hidden away in the mountains. The prison that sweet little omega (Y/n)'s works at.

Knuckle Velvet (Part Two)

Smoke (Part Three)

➯a/n: i've always wanted to write a story i would like to see as a movie or show, and i very much enjoy supernatural and dark romance, so i made this ! it does get very dark so please read the warnings and take care of yourself first and foremost. i am very proud of this, i hope you enjoy 💕

✃ "Because you're... alluring."

✫彡wordcount: 9.3k

♫"Hey, you should leave that young thing alone, ain't no sunshine when she's gone, only darkness everyday." - Flower Face (original by Bill Withers) ♫ Allure Sountrack

(>ᴗ•)♡´･ᴗ･`♡genre: smut, YANDERE, a/b/o au

ಠ_ಠWARNING/content: DEAD DOVE I MURDERED THAT BIH

chapter specific: literally what have i done, not beta read(ironically), criminal MATZ, alpha MATZ/omega reader, forget everything you know about werewolves, so much world building, extremely yandere behavior, talk of attempted child murder, class division of werewolves, panic attacks, vulgar language, mind control, lots of scent stuff, unhealthy relationships, ptsd, flashbacks and nightmares, physical violence, manipulation of others dreams, supporting character death, forced soul bonding, forced marking, reader implied to have mental health issues, murder, gore, violence- all that good stuff. THIS IS NOT A NON CON FIC ALL EVENTUAL SMUT WILL BE CONSENSUAL.

⁂perm taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg

⁂fic taglist: @potatomountain @spooo00oky

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

˚➶ ｡˚ PART ONE ˚➶ ｡˚

You hate weekdays. That much is true for a lot of people. You like to think your reasoning is especially valid.

Every Monday through Friday like clockwork, 6:30AM you walk into the prison. That on its own wasn't so bad. You lived only ten minutes away; the gothic building looked over your village in tandem with the mountains. You could see it when the weather was clear, even from your bedroom on the edge of town. You were no longer afraid of it like when you were a child.

You are, however, afraid of the newest prisoners.

New arrivals didn't usually rock you. This is the only prison in the country fit to hold lycans, after all. They all got transferred here eventually. From beta's who were just stealing to eat, to alphas who used their powers on humans, to those who believed in the old ways and fed on humans.

You had to interact with them all face to face.

You weren't excited for that particular aspect of your job this week.

You made your way through the double doors and greeted the security guard, your friend Hyolyn, as you went through the metal detector. It went off on account of the scent blocker that was embedded in your neck. She chuckled and switched it off so it stopped its incessant beeping.

"Don't laugh at me!" You threw a smile her way as you got your small purse from the plastic bucket she slid towards you. She doesn't bother to check your bag. She knows you well enough to know you wouldn't bring in any "fuck shit", as she would say. "You alpha's don't have to worry about accidentally spewing scent everywhere."

"Thank goodness for that, this place would stink to high heaven." Her unintentional reference to the new arrivals makes the air turn stiff. She could tell you were on edge immediately. "They aren't all that scary," she lays a comforting hand to your shoulder as you fiddle with the long strap on your crossbody bag.

"I heard one of them killed Alpha Greene... you think that's true? That guy was huge, I saw him at The Thing last year, I almost peed myself cause he looked at me-" You stop your own rambling, taking a deep breath and letting it out as a shaking sigh. "I don't want to go in there. Honestly, why can't we install a laundry chute or something, fuck."

"I'll follow you up, I c-"

"No, no, it's visiting day. You need to be down here. You know Chungha? Her daughter is visiting today. Don't want you to miss her." You offer a sad, tight lipped smile, but that doesn't trick her instincts to protect her weaker pack member. She knows you too well to be tricked.

"You just scream and I'll be there. Either of those cocky fucks lift a pinky in your direction and I'll gut them. They don't deserve to see a trial anyway."

A small exhale in the form of a chuckle lightens her protective instincts, she can tell you feel more at ease with her promise to be right there at the slightest hint of trouble.

"See you, Hyolyn."

"Later, babes."

You wave your fingers with a smile as the elevator doors slides shut. As soon as they clunk together, you let it fall and crouch with your head in your hands, taking in deep and slow breaths as you try and force all of the rumors you've heard about the two newest inmates away from your head.

The older alpha of the duo was the first born in this generation. They're always powerful. But he was born to two bloodthirsty rouges. Born in sin and blood lust.

The younger alpha was born just some months after, to an arranged marriage that was purposefully formed to make powerful children. They surely regret that now. Some say the man has the strongest, sharpest claws since the first lycan in Talbot Castle.

When the elevator dings, you're already upright and have that strong facade on that you put on when you're clocked in.

˚➶ ｡˚

You start with the familiar. "Hey, Chungha," you tap on the silver bars of her cell, "hand 'em over." She smiles as she stands, stripping the sheets from her cot and holding them through the bars for you. "Thank you," you draw on with a tug on your lips that matches hers.

"Yunnie in town?"

"Mhm," you hum as you fold the blanket before dropping it in the large basket on wheels, "she came over for stew, I made sure to feed her good and well, don't worry."

You know it was probably problematic, but you couldn't help it. Chungha came here three years ago on a charge for battery, and over those three years you became sort of friends with her.

The battered in her case was her grandfather. When her five year old daughter, Jiyun, started to show signs of being an omega- he left her in the snow to wither away. She managed to survive until her mother came home, and said mother was furious.

She was lucky she didn't charged with attempted manslaughter.

"She said she'll be here first thing."

"Thank you," she had a heavy pull on her voice. You don't have the emotional connection to other wolves like an alpha or beta did. But it was clear to anyone she was being sincere. "You're a good woman."

"Don't mention it, Yunnie is good company. Oh," you start to wheel the basket away when you remember something. You reach into the purse that you had set on the handles. "She made this at art class, asked me to give it to you so it didn't have to wait in processing."

It was a small, cruelly made ceramic bowl in the vague shape of a heart. It was clearly made by an eight year old, but made with love.

"I owe you."

"Just keep working on that parol work." You said lightly and blew a kiss as you moved to the next cell.

    The rest of your work nearly cleared your mind as you went from cell to cell, floor to floor. Omega's were on the second floor. Beta's on the third. Alphas on the fourth. High security on the fifth.

     It's on the fourth level that you begin to feel those nerves that you had just worked away. The scent was becoming stronger. They didn't put them on blockers? Maybe they didn't think it would be worth it. Everyone knew that they were the worst of the worst, they didn't even try to hide it. They would undoubtedly be put to death. Why waste two perfectly good, expensive, blockers?

     The basket of used sheets is nearly full, accumulating into a weight that makes you put your back into it as you push it into the elevator.

    Your index finger reaches out, and before you can stop yourself you've pressed the button to the fifth floor.

       You blank out until the door opens again. Your teeth are eternally grateful for the gum between them so they don't grind themselves into dust. The mint flavor does little to calm your nerves.

     The only thing that makes you come back to your own head is Changbin. He's a big, buff beta with a gun full of silver bullets on his work belt. He won't let them hurt you. His smile washes away a lot of the nerves.

    But the growl that rumbles against the walls makes them return ten, one hundred, one thousand fold. You don't dare say a word. A deer in headlights until Changbin places his hand on the small of your back. "Go on, don't give them the satisfaction of scaring you. They aren't going nowhere no time soon. Take a look."

     He motions you deeper into the hall, florescent lights buzzing above you, matching the jittering feeling in the deepest pit of your stomach. It smells too strong. Too much. You're about to fall to your knees from the weight and you haven't even come face to face with the near feral criminals.

    Changbin opens the doors at the end of the hall.

     They've definitely gone all out to keep them in place. Two large cages placed next to each other in the middle of the enormous room. Made of pure silver and wrapped in wolfsbane. The unpleasant smell of the plant makes your nose twitch. A ring of blood ash surrounds it. Only omegas can pass through blood ash, and now you start to realize why they sent you.

    You want to curse the warden, but the second you open your mouth, a loud cackle sounds out from one of the cages.

     Changbin's hand twitches at the gun attached to his side.

    "Oh wow," the smaller alpha chuckles, eyes closed, head tilted back, as he sniffs the air. "I didn't expect that." More manic giggles slip past his lips.

    You haven't even looked up to see them and you want to cave in on yourself.

    "What are you rambling about, huh?" The guard next to you shouts, making you flinch instinctively.

     "That sweet... sweet, smell," he moans. You can hear him shuffling. "From a peppy little spit fuck omega."

   You gasp abashedly, and now two laughs ring out. You want to wonder how they can smell you. Your insurance provides the best scent blocker in the country. But you're too scared to breathe, let alone think.

      "Shut up," Changbin groans, he can feel you tense next to him, "don't piss me off, Kim."

    "Awe," a new, rumbling voice makes you cower the second it reaches your ears, "this your mate? Hm, no... you wouldn't bring your mate here. You're not an idiot. Then, say... omega." You don't make a move to look when he addresses you, you stay looking at Changbins grip on his gun, silently.

     "Omega, come!" Your feet move for you, and that manic laugh almost makes you wet yourself as you realize that your wolf is making you move toward them without your consent. You stop just outside of the blood ash, where you know you're safe.

     "Changb-"

     "No. I'm the one you're speaking to."

   Changbin seems to be weighing his options, eyeing the men as they eye you.

    "Why are you here? You a shrink?"

    You shake your head.

   "You a lawyer?"

    Again.

   "She works here, dumbass, look at her scrubs," the younger speaks, and you nod subconsciously, to which he giggles, "what can we do for a pretty little thing like you?"

    When you refuse to speak, the guard does it for you. "She's here for your sheets today. Get used to her."

     You hated that this was your job, but it was easy and accessible, and available for omegas. Werewolves are clean freaks. Every day you had a different cleaning task, but you didn't complain. Not until right now- you wanted to rip out the throat of whoever's idea it was to not shoot these criminals on sight.

     "Ah," he hums, and you can feel his eyes raking your body. You can feel both of their eyes. "Not too bad of a sight to get used to. Huh, Hwa?"

     "Mh, that's right... can't wait to get my hands on her."

Your head snaps back to Changbin.

"Awn, she thinks he's gonna help her!" The high pitched giggles bounce around in your head. "Oh, little omega~"

The saccharine coo finally pulls your eyes to the men in the cages.

If you thought you knew what fear was before this moment, you were wrong.

The two strongest criminals in the country, staring you down like a piece of meat. It doesn't matter that they are the ones in cages of silver and wolfsbane. You are the one who feels cornered.

You can immediately feel out their dynamics. The taller one is the older one, quiet and still in his cage as he sits in the center. Shaggy, shining hair framing his face and neck like an elegant piece of lace over a brides face. He has a sleeve of tattoos on one forearm, a thick tattoo on his neck. Eyes glowing a deep, blood red, as he tries to read your entire story with only a look in your direction.

The giggling one is less intimidating, only by a hair. Chemically lightened locks pushed back messily, letting his entrancing features shine in the light from the narrow windows high on the walls. He has tattoos as well, but they seem few and far between. His eyes are human for a moment before they meet yours. Instantaneously, they flick black.

The knot drops from your throat and you let out a small, pathetic, squeak.

Changbin breaks your staring contest with the alpha, shouting orders at them. "Take the sheets off your cot and set them outside of your cage. Do not attempt to touch her, I will shoot you."

    Neither criminal makes a move to follow his orders, both simply staring at you.

A low growl is emitted when the older alpha finally snaps up, tearing the sheet off the sorry excuse for a bed in one fell swoop. The younger follows his lead, shoving their sheets through the bars that are wrapped in the poisonous flower.

You look to the guard, and he nods, "go." With his finger twitching at the gun ready to pull it, you jump over the dark red ashes and into the wolves den, snatching the sheets up as quick as possible and dashing away, out the door before they even get a chance to lock in your scent up close.

The giggles follow you all the way to the elevator and ring in your head even as the thick metal thunks shut.

As you take a deep breath, you notice the sheets are gripped to your chest, your claws drawn subconsciously in your panic and ripping them up. "Shit!" You let out a curse and shove them into the bottom of the basket so you don't have to smell it as closely on the long ride to the basement.

˚➶ ｡˚

The lingering wafts of your fresh scent are long gone, nothing to distract the alpha's from their caged boredom and bubbling rage over being caught. "I'll have that runts heart in my hands by the end of the month." Hongjoong groaned, to no one in particular- he knew Seonghwa was too deep in thought from their recent revelations. "Fucking back stabbers. They're more pathetic than a bitch in heat trying to get off with a dildo."

The thought hit his mind as soon as the words left his lips.

The thought of you, legs spread with your hand dipped low, trying to satisfy your primal urges and-

"Stop that." Seonghwa growls, kicking the bars of their shared 'wall'.

"Settle down!"

"Oh, like you weren't thinking it!" Hongjoong rolls his eyes, a scowl on his face as he crosses his arms. "Your ruts coming and you don't want your-"

"I said stop," he nearly roars, grabbing Hongjoong's state issued orange top and ripping it with his claws as he pulls him forward.

"I know you want her because I want her too." He whispers, smirking at the telltale signs of desire and bloodlust in his mates eyes. Red swirling around the brown of his human eyes. "Imagine how good she'll smell when we take out that stupid blocker. We'll be drowning in her scent." He moans, grabbing his wrist, "I get the honors, my claws are sharper, anyways," he draws them quickly, digging them into his skin as if to prove a point.

"I can use my teeth, mark h-"

"Oh, will you two stop? Love of God..." The guard in the large room slaps his book down on the rickety table. "What is there possibly for you to be fighting about? You're about to be executed, you know that right? No jury in the world will let you walk, especially the human half."

Their frustrations turn to the man, letting each other go. "Ah, you think so?" The older croons, dragging his index over his bleeding wrist and bringing it to his lips, sucking it clean before he continues. "We won't be around these parts long enough to meet the jury."

"What do you mean by that?"

Hongjoong covers his mouth when a laugh slips past. Seonghwa simply smirks as he sits cross legged, eyes locked with the guard as he licks his wound.

"What do you mean by that?!"

The blonde man breaks out in a fit of laughter. The brunette simply flashes his bloody canines in a twisted smile.

˚➶ ｡˚

You spent the whole time doing your daily tasks trying to hype yourself up to go back up to the fifth floor.

You usually went top down, four to one. Nobody has ever been on five before.

You go bottom up today, starting at Chungha with a full basket of freshly washed sheets. She prattles on about her visit with Jiyun, and how she's so thankful for you.

You choose that as your focus point for the rest of the work day, even as you press the button to the fifth floor.

You think back to the first time you spoke to Chungha, she was a crying mess, unable to sense that you were an omega like herself. She cried and cried and cried as you held her hand through the bars of temporary holding. She cried for her daughter, for cursing her with the shame of being the weakest link of any pack. When she looked up and saw your eyes, barely glowing, she cried more.

She apologized profusely, but you reassured her that her words were true, and you hadn't been offended. You told her that, in fact, she was the first to ever share your feelings of what being an omega really meant. It meant loneliness beside anyone but other omegas. Fake relationships born with people who only stuck around because of their primal instincts to either prey on you or protect you. It meant facing the fact that you were outcasts from both of the world's dominant societies. Outcasted from humans for being a werewolf. Outcasted from werewolves for being weak. So weak, in fact, that blood ash didn't even think of you as a wolf.

That night, you drove four hours to the next village over and looked after her daughter until her aunt had room. You remember the first thing the girl said to you. She didn't speak that whole day, surely in shock from the past few days events. But when you tucked her into the motel bed, she spoke as soft as a ghost, "sing me a song?"

You hum it to yourself now, the soft sound reverberating through the metal around you until the door opened.

You wheel the basket with you this time, like it will protect you as you approach the open doors, already feeling the unwavering gaze of the criminals.

"Hey, dolly~" Hongjoong, you had learned when you took a peek into their files, purred your way.

You didn't give him the satisfaction of responding verbally, but he saw the goosebumps on your arm as you reached into the basket, stretching on your tip toes to get the last two sheets.

"You never shut up do you, Kim?" The guard sighed with an exhausted tone, making you smile as you slowly made your way to the ring of red dust.

The throaty rumble from Seonghwa, the older, taller wolf, makes that smile drop to the depths of Hell.

The new guard seems to notice your anxiety, eyeing you up- in a much less predatory manner than the caged men. "Go on, 'mega. I'm watching them."

A bang on the metal bars makes you glue your foot right back where it came from. It's the blonde one, "you shut the fuck up!"

"No, you shut the fuck up! I'm the one with the silver bullets!"

All of the yelling is making you tremble, Hongjoong and the guard going back and forth. "She isn't your omega!"

"She ain't yours!"

Seonghwa watches with a sinister smile as you back away from the ash and the guard, calling to you quietly, "hey."

The soft tone of his voice makes you raise your eyes, but not your head. His eyes don't hold that threatening and dominating red from before. They're a soft brown color that reminds you of a beautiful dark oak in the morning sunshine. "What's your name?"

"(Y/n)..." your tongue moves without your consent, fresh blankets held to your work scrubs.

You desperately want the guard to notice this trance you're in, and grab you out of it. You want to do it yourself, but you can't do anything but admire the beauty of the criminal who has you hypnotized.

"You're a pretty omega, y'know? What color is your wolf?"

"Black..." It's a slur off your lips, barely registering in his sharply tuned ears over the yelling that continues to fill the room.

"Mine too. What's her name? His is Akma."

"Solis."

"Very pretty. Is she fast?"

"Yes."

"Does she want an alpha? A mate?"

"Yes."

The guard finally notices your raised gaze, affixed to the infamous, unlawful, man. He puts his gun back in the holster quickly before gripping your shoulder and forcing you to turn around. "You idiot, didn't anyone ever tell you not to look a first born in the eyes?"

"Sorry. I'm sorry." No one had ever told you that, actually.

Both of the criminals share a smirk as the man from your pack attempts to calm you. It wasn't hard for them to figure out you were an alpha-less village. They could smell every single wolf in five miles, and not a single stench from a wolf even nearly as strong as them.

There was, however, you. A honeyed smell that filled their guts with the primal need to rip out the eyes of anyone who dared look at you.

The guard couldn't be more wrong. You are their omega. You just don't know yet.

"Go and give these fucks their sheets, then get the hell out of here." The man shoved you, making you jump clumsily over the ash so you didn't break the seal.

He yells at them to back up, and they do so without a fight.

You shove them both in at the same time before running back out quickly, grabbing the empty basket and dragging it with you, the sound of the wheels scraping with the force of your panic echoing in the near empty room.

"You guys get off on scaring defenseless girls?" The guard scoffs, not expecting an answer as he drags the chair out of the room and slams the doors behind him.

Seonghwa lets his facade fall the second the door shuts, falling to his knees and grappling at the sheet like he's a starving man with the last piece of food on Earth. Hongjoong watches for a moment in confusion until the scent catches up with his weaker nose. Then he's quickly falling in the same position.

"It worked, the guard was so easy to distract," Hongjoong chuckles, face buried into the sheet that smells vaguely like you from your time spent holding it. "What did you learn?"

"(Y/n), a black wolf named Solis," he pauses, eyes rolled back as he takes a deep breath. They're red when they re-open. "No mate. It's really her."

"You think we should have told her?" Hongjoong inquires, looking through the bars.

He's never seen Seonghwa on his knees for anyone but him or the moon.

"No," he shakes his head, turning to lock eyes with him. "She'll figure it out when I mark her."

"When I mark her."

He rolls his eyes at his defiant nature, knowing full well he won't disobey his orders no matter how badly he wants to do something.

In a dog eat dog world, the strongest was the most powerful. Unlike their human neighbors, werewolves don't decide political or social standing by money or family name. They decide based on who comes out on top in a battle of the body and of the wits.

It had been determined years ago, when they were just young rebellious pups, that Seonghwa was the alpha. A fight in the woods under the moon had set it in stone between the two.

He could have ripped Hongjoongs throat out right then and there, but now, 13 years later in the present; they're bonded for life.

Sometimes he still sees Hongjoong as that 12 year old boy under his teeth, still snapping and growling even as he bled out with tears in his dark eyes, fighting to survive purely out of spite.

"You can mark her first," Seonghwa speaks quickly, turning his back as he puts the sweet smelling sheet on his cot.

He smiles at the man, a quiet thanks spoken through their bonded souls.

˚➶ ｡˚

Tuesday, they don't see you until much later in the day, but they bask in the sight of you opening the door with a broom and tray in hand, smiling at Changbin. You'll be here for a while, it's a big room.

"Hey, Binnie," you whisper to the beta, and Seonghwa has to bite his tongue.

Binnie? Ugh.

Hongjoong isn't so polite, "hey, Dolly! We don't get a hello?" You barely peek at him, eyes flicked from him right back to the floor in a millisecond. He knows you noticed his pout when he hears the smallest 'hello' tremble by your lips.

You start in the corner, headphones attached to your walkman with your favorite song on repeat to try and soothe yourself. Bill Withers calming voice blocks out every word of the teasing alphas, but you can still feel them mocking you and picking at you.

You don't dare sweep anywhere near the blood ash on the floor. One less precaution in place was one more thing to worry about.

"Bye, Binnie."

He does growl that time, eyes narrowed on your back until the door shuts.

˚➶ ｡˚

Wednesday, you have a frown on your face. "Three days in a row?" The guard Hongjoong got in a yelling match with, Merle, greets you as you come into the cavernous room, "bad schedule huh?"

"No kidding," you sigh, feet slightly hesitant to pass the dust border, "I'm here to fix your shirt. It's state property." You don't look at them, but they know who you're referring to.

They act like they don't, though. Just to hear more of your voice. To make you wriggle under their attention. "Sorry? What do you mean?"

You look and point to Hongjoong, his collar ripped from Seonghwas grasp. "State property."

"Ah, of course." He grins like a jackal, pulling it over his head and sticking his hand out of the bars just in the slightest. "On one condition."

You pout, eyes on the shirt which is just far enough away that you'd have to step closer. And it's the cutest fucking thing they've ever seen.

You look back up at him, silently asking. "Sit and talk with us. The guards here are no fun!" His laugh makes you jump back further, he sounds like a mad pirate.

You look over to Merle, who just shrugs, "just get it over with so these guys will shut up. They're only talkative around you, they need an audience for their antics."

"We won't bite," Seonghwa chuckles with his teeth exposed, making you shiver.

"Fine, give it here." You take a single step forward, palm out infront of the blonde.

When you grab it and go to race away like always, his claws wrapping all the way around your wrist stops you, sharp edges threatening to slice your skin down to the bone. You scream your head off, silenced when Seonghwa coos softly, "sit with us, and talk."

"Let me go..." you plead, eyes frantically flicking to Merle, whose gun is drawn to Hongjoongs head from the border of the ash, waiting for him to take one more wrong move so he can rid the world of one of its greatest criminals.

"Sit, omega." You do so, slowly lowering to the floor with your wrist and life still in Hongjoongs hand. "You have your sewing kit with you, I can hear the buttons hitting the needle. So sit, stay, and talk while you fix it."

Once again, they're the ones caged in. But you're the one who's stuck.

     One look to Merle tells you he probably wouldn't help you even if he could get to you. He lowers his gun as your tailbone hits the concrete floor.

     Your thin work scrubs do little to fight the cold of the old flooring, one reason of many that you shake as you reach into your purse and get the small tin box.

     Hongjoong releases your wrist and sits mirrored to you, hands perched on the bars in the gaps of the purple vine flower wrapped on them. Seonghwa comes to the corner of his side of the split cage and breathes in deeply through his nose, eyes locked in on your every movement. "So you're essentially the errand lady? Maid?"

      "Yes..." You murmur under your breath as your fingers work to thread the needle, slowly backing away until you're out of reach, but still stuck in the blood ash with no one to rescue should the men infront of you decide to rip their cages open. You only stop backing away when you hear a warning growl.

     You don't care to see which it came from, you just want to do this as quickly as possible and get far, far, away. They could have chose anyone to focus their annoying efforts on. Changbin, Merle, the warden. But no, just your luck.

      "You live in the village, right? Were you born here?" Seonghwa continues to do the talking as you carefully fix the shirt.

      "Yes. And no."

     A small hum from the one in front of you is a sign they want you to continue. "I was born to an overpopulated pack. They kicked me out when I turned eighteen. Our old alpha took me in." The hitch in your voice is a clear sign that it's a sore topic. And Hongjoong continues to poke the wound.

      "How did they find you?"

       "Woods."

       "Woods?"

     You can't help the small growl of frustration, lip curling as you look up. "Woods."

     The reaction is one you wouldn't have expected from a normal person, but then- they aren't normal.

     They laugh, cooing over your gesture of anger. Compared to them, you seem like a teacup puppy. "My, my," the brunette chuckles breathily, "is that Solis coming to play?"

     "At least she can," you snap, sent to the back of your own head as your wolf tries to defend you, "she isn't a caged mutt."

    Hongjoong breaks out into a manic fit of laughter, while his paramour is the opposite: his eyes flick red before your own, sharp teeth on display in a show of dominance over your smaller ones that are subconsciously bared at him. "Watch it, omega." He spits his words with venom, "I won't be so nice when I get out of here."

     You rip the extra thread with your claw, kicking the shirt across the floor so it sits at the bottom bar of Hongjoongs cage. His chest still wracks with laughter, watching as you sit up in a low squat so you're still level with the alpha.

      It's clear that you aren't currently you. Your wolf has control of your mouth and body, crouched in a position akin to that of a dog ready to pounce as you hiss your words, "I'm going to laugh in your face as you hang."

     "Aw, is that how dear old alpha died?"

     "Cut it out!" Merle screams disinterested, eyes glued to his flimsy magazine.

      "I heard he got gutted~" Hongjoong giggles, watching the color flicking in your eyes.

     "I'll gut you!" Your threat only makes him laugh more.

      "(Y/n)!" The voice of Hylyon breaks your wolf away from you immediately, falling to your bottom and crawling to the sound unwittingly. "You fucking idiot, Merle!" 

     She reaches over the blood ash and pulls you over the ring, letting you collapse into her as she drags you away, still throwing profanities at the incompetent guard. Hongjoong is laughing loudly. Seonghwa yelling at you to come back. The elevator cuts of his roar, the last thing you see through your blurry vision is his fist making a dent in the silver cage.

You fall onto the floor of the metal box. Thoughts flood your head too quickly for you to swim though them, making you drown and try to escape by releasing the pain with tears. You don't even notice when your friend turns her key in the elevator to make it stop in its tracks, you only see her when she sits right infront of you.

"Babes, calm down, I've got you," she reaches out slowly and places a hand on your leg, slowly rubbing her thumb over your knee.

"I can't go back up there... they're too strong, they make me feel like I'm suffocating," you splutter through gasps, "I'm too weak!"

"Hey, hey, you're spiraling!" She opens her arms and pulls you into her, letting you sob into her uniform. "In and out, girl," she holds the back of your neck securely, almost instantaneously making you calm. "I got you... I got you..."

You sit there for a good while, crying into her shoulder as you sort through your wracked brains.

Your alpha was gutted. Right in front of you. Because of you.

Unbeknownst to you, their tuned ears are still listening in, the elevator stuck within their ear shot as you begin mumbling your favorite song to yourself through tears.

˚➶ ｡˚

The sound of claws slicing through the skin on your back rings in your ears. Though, you can't feel it. Your eyes are locked in on your own claws, dug into the hardwood floor of your humble home to keep yourself from being dragged.

     You've been here a million times before.

     Blood pooling off of your body and onto the frigid surface below you. Teeth sharp and bared to the moon though the open window, begging that she might let you survive. Eyes aglow with your instincts as your wolf tries with every fiber of her being to turn, but she knows it's no use.

     The distorted voice above you drips with mocking venom, a chuckle as its owner realizes you can't even fight back like other wolves might: by letting your wolf fully transform.

     The wind blows through your curtains, washes your body in the artic breeze. The snowflakes on your windowsill are so delicate, all of their features fade into a blurry mush as they make contact. They melt, dripping down your wall.

     This time it's different.

      You're turned over, gaping wounds slammed into the floor as always, but when you look up to your aggressor it's different.

      His eyes aren't the yellow of a rouge, but the red of an alpha. His hair isn't that unruly blonde curl that you pulled at frantically, that you can still feel on your finger tips when your hands are unoccupied. It's long, shining, soft looking dark locks.

       You fall through the floor into another time, another place.

     Face first into the snow: your hands, shaking with adrenaline, do little to catch you.

       You don't remember this.

       This isn't right.

       This isn't your nightmare.

       You find yourself in a clearing in a forrest, the densely packed trees creating a bubble of nature around you. "(Y/n)?"

      You whip around, coming face to face with an unfamiliar man. Almost face to face. If he weren't floating a few feet in the air.

     His legs are crossed under him, hands facing palms up on his knees.

      "Don't worry. You're only dreaming." He speaks calmly as he floats around you in a circle, like a shark examining its potential prey.

     You follow him with your feral gaze, that familiar feeling of an adrenaline crash quickly approaching.

You know you're only dreaming. You've had that last dream more times than you can count in the past three years. It always plays the same. But not this time. You're only slightly thankful that you don't have to witness your alphas death again, but the gratefulness is overshadowed by confusion.

"Are you an angel?" You whisper, watching the man's soft and rounded features as he comes to a stop in the air in front of you and gracefully lowers to his feet.

"I can be, if that's what you want me to be. I'm only here to watch your dreams, fight off the nightmares."

"Why?" You feel distant from your body, watching powerlessly as your hand takes his, letting him lead you out of the clearing and into the darkness of the woods.

It disappears around you, warping into a spring day on a familiar path.

"A favor for a friend."

With the snow gone, you're in your spot, your old towel on the dewy grass with a book laid atop of it and the soil beneath your feet as you approach.

"Enjoy."

The hand vanishes from your own, leaving you alone on the side of the path. You look for him. But he's just an eidolon, watching you from the sky where you can't see him.

You warily take a seat and pick up the book.

˚➶ ｡˚

They don't see you again through the week. And when the next Monday comes by, their sheets are removed while they're in the showers.

Hongjoong sighs from his place on the floor, for the tenth time in the past half hour.

"Hong-"

"I miss our omega!" He whines, cutting him off.

Seonghwa stands from his cot, slowly lowering to the floor next to their shared bars. He lays flat on his back, mirroring Hongjoong as he tilts his head to look at him. "Soon." Is the only word he utters.

He reaches through the silver bars, ignoring the sting as the fresh wolfsbane brushes his wrist, and takes his hand.

The both of them look up at the ceiling through the bars of their enclosure.

Your scent is long gone from the room, and their noses can barely pick up on it through the rest of the village and prison.

"I want out of here," Hongjoong whispers, so lowly that the guard can't hear him from outside of the door, "when are they coming? Your bond with them is stronger, I can barely feel them..."

"Soon." He repeats, "very soon, Joong."

˚➶ ｡˚

Tuesday you manage to talk your coworker into sweeping the top floor, and you rejoice in the freedom of not being under the alpha's gazes. You've worked out a good schedule to completely avoid seeing them, and it's made your job feel like it's back to normal.

You can still smell their power wafting through the AC, but it's bearable. You distract yourself in your free time by making excuses to be on the second floor with Chungha and the other omegas.

Today, that excuse is 'omegas need physical outlets too', and the warden let you bring up buckets and brushes so you could all scrub the base boards.

"Oh, I've got one!" The omega to your left speaks, lifting his brush in the air in a eureka moment, "Texas Chainsaw Massacre or... Halloween?"

Chungha scoffs with a smile as she scrubs away to your right, "are we including sequels? There's like a billion!"

"No, stand alone original," Beomhan goes back to scrubbing as he continues, "both of them are classics but which one is a better classic?"

"Halloween is the classic slasher, Texas Chainsaw is like psychological horror," you chime in as you dip your brush into the bucket, sitting on your calves as you take a breather. "I think it's not fair to compare them... but Texas Chainsaw, definitely."

They laugh along with you, and Chungha shakes her head, "Halloween has more rewatchablity. You don't want to see Sally go through that more than once, but Laurie Strode fights harder and it's more like, yeah I'll watch her kick ass again."

"Cinematography in both is so beaut-"

The lights above you flicker before they shut down completely. People start muttering their concerns, quite a few of them looking your way. "Don't worry!" You hop up and get your keys from your pocket as you make your way to the locked stairwell. "I'll go and see what's going on, keep scrub-"

A loud siren echoes in the brick walls, shocking you all to cover your ears.

Everyone looks to you for answers, and you don't have any as your brain starts throwing theory after theory at you.

"It's okay, go back to your cells! Shut them behind you!"

They listened, however grumpy about it. The cell doors locked automatically when they were closed.

"Hey, what's going on?" Chungha asked over the clanging of the cell doors. The two of you, along with Beomhan, were the only ones left after a moment.

"Go back to your cell, Beomhan, hurry."

"No, what's happening?"

     The sirens cut off and leave you in a pregnant pause for a moment as you simply try to calm yourself.

A deafening scream ricochets through the air vent next to you, scaring you into their arms as you all stare at it.

Usually, the air flow covered the echoes throughout the floors. But with no power, you could hear everything- albeit muffled.

Yells and shouts. Gunshots. Growls. Unidentifiable chaos. And above all, your ears tuned in on a rumbling, calm voice through it all.

"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone... It's not warm when she's away..."

Your eyes widen as theres a bang at the stairwell door. "Go, go!" You grab each of their wrists, dragging them into Chungha's cell. You slam it behind you and let down the sheet she has over it, backing away and staring at it as you hear the door hit the wall behind it with the force it's slammed open.

"(Y/n), what the hells happening?!"

     You slap your hand over his mouth and bring a finger to your lips. The other omegas on the floor are all making a ruckus, and you can only hope that it will confuse that unfortunately familiar voice so he can't find you.

˚➶ ｡˚

The beta in the large room ignores Hongjoong as he continuously asks after 'the pretty omega'.

He just sweeps and sweeps, finally understanding why you hate coming up here. He has his back turned to the cage, and consequently, to the windows.

High on the tall walls, the narrow glass is opened from the outside. Seonghwa smirks, and gestures his head to it. Hongjoongs gaze follows, and he has to slap a hand over his mouth so he doesn't laugh.

A skinny figure is sliding its way in through the window sideways.

He drops to the floor as silent as a mouse, landing on his knees and grinning wildly up at his alphas.

Hongjoong throws his head back in preemptive relief, while Seonghwa is watching with a similarly wide smile as the man walks straight through the blood ash, breaking the circle with the tip of his shoe.

The worker still has his back turned as the lock on Seonghwas cage is picked with a long claw. He doesn't even know what's happening as the next thing he knows, he's thrown across the floor.

      Blood ash knocks up around him, coughs wracking his body as he looks up to his assailant.

      Park Seonghwa, newly freed from his cage, looks down at the worker with his eyes glowing red.

     "Now usually..." He begins, crouching to be face to face with him, "I'd go through this whole place just for the fuck of it and cause some beautiful chaos. But I'm looking for someone."

     "(Y/n)?" He stutters out, backing away only to knock into Hongjoongs legs. Stuck between the two criminals, he chooses his own head over yours. "The second floor! Sh-she's on the second floor!"

     "Let's go get our omega, Joong."

      Nonchalantly, Hongjoong draws his claws and slices the neck of the worker. He hops over the gurgling body and follows his mate with an ecstatic giggle.

      He wraps his arm around the skinny man's shoulder, "Wooyoung! Our savior~" He ruffles his hair and laughs as he groans.

     "You guys know I've got your back. Seonghwa told me about your new omega, you seem excited," he mimics the alphas smile as the eldest of the trio opens the doors.

     The guard on duty, who happens to be Merle, looks back with wide eyes.

"Yes, oh yes!" His eyes roll to the back of his head, touching the stitches you made on his shirt. "Oh, you'll love her, she's a feisty omega just like you."

He makes a run for the fire alarm at the end of the hall, but Seonghwa is faster. The beta is tackled to the floor.

"I'm glad you both will have a buffer, tired of you always at each other's throats during ruts," Wooyoung laughs, looking down at the guard as they pass.

Seonghwa had simply torn out his throat with his bare hand and made his way to the elevator, holding it open with an impatient glare.

The door closes behind them and the only sound is Seonghwa's heavy breathing.

"You're real eager, huh?" The omega breaks the silence, "San should be coming in any second to block the main door. No one will get past him. The rest are in the village, just as we planned."

"Good, she'll need somewhere to rest before we take off....Fucking idiots, thinking they can cage us." He groans, eyes flicking to the number above the doors as it dings.

       3? "Fuck."

     The door opens and the woman on the other side takes a moment, nearly walking in before she notices the crimson liquid dripping from Segonhwa's hand.

      She makes it halfway through the hall before Hongjoong pounces on her, fighting her effortlessly as if she's a rag doll. The guards run to try and save her, but it's too late for the unfortunate woman, and they just signed their own death certificate as well.

       Seonghwa and Wooyoung make quick work of them, but their plan is already foiled as the lights flicker to a halt and leave them bathed in dim light of the setting sun in the few windows.

      The alphas fall to their knees as their sensitive ears are bombarded with a loud, incessant siren.

      "Wooyoung!" Hongjoong screams over it, "go turn that shit off!"

      He nods, taking the keys off a mauled guard and dashing to the stair well, leaving it unlocked behind him.

     Hongjoong crawls to Seonghwa, collapsing into his chest with his teeth clenched and palms over his ears. His ears were always more sensitive.

     His partner places his hands over his, thumb running over his own. He looks down with his eyes glowing red, meeting pure black.

He leans and kisses him deeply, all teeth and bloodlust, trying to merge their souls until the sirens cuts off.

Their foreheads rest together, ignoring the chaos of the beta's around them yelling to be released.

"Are you ready?" Seonghwa whispers, gathering another set of keys from the fallen workers. He throws it to one of the locked in prisoners, a smirk on his face. So much for not creating chaos.

"Let's go," Hongjoong holds the door to the staircase open and lets him go first with a dramatic bow.

It takes one scream to start the havoc. The entire prison is filled with the sickly sweet sounds of caged animals with a taste of freedom. Gunfire and howls bring a smile to Seonghwa's lips as he sings out,

"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone... it's not warm when she's away..."

He hums the song with a wide grin as Hongjoong kicks the door. It takes only one more kick before it slams open and bangs against the cement wall.

The omegas in their cells are all yelling at them, at one another, in general.

Hongjoong kicks one of the many buckets on the floor over and groans, "here I was thinking she'd make it easy. I guess we'll have to go cell to cell!" A small spike of a heartbeat in his ears makes him smirk, following the sound that he memorized the first time he'd heard it.

Seonghwa follows him, immediately zeroing in on the same cell. He comes to stand infront of it, his breath making the blanket behind the bars sway slightly.

You see both pairs of orange slip on shoes and you feel your heart stop in your chest.

You cower further into the corner with Beomhan as Chungha stands in front of you. The sheet is grabbed from the outside and ripped away, making you all shriek.

"Were you playing hide and seek?" Hongjoong giggles, throwing the blanket to the side with his eyes never leaving you, a scowl growing on his features as he notices the way you're curling into another wolf. "You should know better than to hide from your alphas. Come on out."

You shake your head, gaze lowered as you hold onto the back of Chungha's uniform.

"(Y/n)," the saturnine man speaks, "come here."

"No, leave us alone! Leave me alone," your voice cracks despite how strong you want to appear.

"If I have to drag you out of here I will be very angry. Just come on, do us all a solid."

"No-"

"Open the fucking door!"

"No!"

The cells were built to hold lycans, which means lycans shouldn't be able to get in... right?

"Fucking-" Seonghwa hits the bars, leaving a dent and making the three of you jump.

Hongjoong leans on his tiptoes and whispers into his ear, and whatever he says makes his eyes begin glowing a murderous red.

He slowly wraps his clawed fingers around the bars, and the way Hongjoong backs up makes your stomach churn in anxiety of what's about to come.

And it was warranted anxiety.

With a loud growl and a single tug, he rips the silver bars from their cemented place in the wall, causing a large crack to form.

"Holy shit!" Beomhan screams, arms wrapping around you tightly.

Chungha is ripped from the small room and tossed all the way across the room, back colliding with the wall and leaving her unconscious.

You yelp as Beomhan meets a similar fate, torn from your grasp and out into the rec room like he's a mere bag of trash. You see Hongjoong approaching him with his long black claws out and proud, but your vision is blocked by the large alpha infront of you.

     Your hips back into Chungha's small desk, and your hands clamber around, landing on something small and solid.

     You swing it at his head and he ducks, grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of the small cell. You manage to swing again, making contact with his head. The small ceramic bowl shatters into pieces and leaves him only temporarily stunned, glaring down at you.

      "Fucking stop," he growls quietly, shoving you to the floor.

       He lets you shuffle away, only because Hongjoong is right behind you.

     The blonde chuckles, pulling you back up by your collar and crashing you face first into one of the round steel tables bolted into the floor. "Ow!" You yell out as your head makes contact, fighting against him with all your might, but it's fruitless.

     He kicks your feet apart and stands between them, leaning his chest over your back. You can feel his nose against your neck, over the healed skin above your scent blocker. You snap your eyes shut and do the only thing you can thing of.

     You can't fight. Begging to these men would be useless. You can't disappear into the floor like you wish you could.

     "Please, Selene," you pray to the moon, tears slipping past your shut eyes as you feel the claws of the mad man on your neck.

       You cry out as the other worldly sharp nails slice into your neck, slowly and almost surgically. His other hand is cupped on the back of your head, keeping your head pushed into the cold metal. "Shhhh," he gushes above you, "it's okay."

      Seonghwa sits at one of the bolted stools and rests his head to mimic yours, cheek on the table. "We'd've been more gentle if you listened, omega."

       Between the tips of his claws, Hongjoong holds your small alloy scent blocker. Almost instantaneously, your natural scent floods their senses.

     Their deep rumbles of pleasure make you snap your eyes back shut, missing the way Hongjoong stomps on the device.

     "Fuck," the wolf behind you curses, body pressed close to yours like he wants to fuse together, he places his hands in yours and tells you, "you might want to squeeze."

    "Wh- ah!" Your scream echoes over all of the other chaos as his teeth sink into your left shoulder, and you do just that. Your clawed hands squeeze around his, sharp nails knocking together as you hold on like his hands are the only thing keeping you from slipping to the underworld.

       It feels like a million pins and needles washing over you, leaving you paralyzed in place as he purrs into the wound, making your bones vibrate.

     A warm, comforting hand on your cheek makes you force your eyes open. Seonghwa smiles sweetly, like he isn't witnessing one of the biggest crimes in the lycan community.

      Forcing someone to be your mate for the rest of your mortal lives.

     "Breathe, omega," his words make you realize you're holding your breath, and you let it out as a sob. "That's it," he hums, rubbing his hand down your head with all the gentleness he's capable of.

        Hongjoong pulls away with a moan, resting his head between your shoulder blades as he catches his breath.

     Your wolf is already calling for her mate, howling in the back of your mind as you cry.

       "Don't worry, we'll take good care of you." Seonghwas words have little time to register in your adrenaline filled head as he turns your head the other way and climbs up on the table.

     It hits you when he moves your ruffled shirt away from your right shoulder. "No! No!" You find yourself with two million pins and needles in your body now, squeezing Hongjoongs hands all over again as Seonghwa sinks his teeth into you at an excruciatingly slow pace.

They're bigger, or maybe they only feel that way because your body is on fire. You sob freely, feet stomping pathetically to cope with the pain.

What little comfort you find in Hongjoong squeezing your hands back is washed away by the simple fact that it's him. That blood from his claws drips onto your skin.

It feels like a century later that the older alpha finally pulls away, a bellow of pleasure as he runs his thumb over the wound: making you jump.

"Your turn, omega."

The weight of their bodies is gone, but you can't bring yourself to move. Out of fear, maybe. Pain, perhaps.

"You know what happens to wolves who don't finish the bond." Hongjoong purrs teasingly, knowing full well that you will have to mark them back least you want to suffer at the hands of the moon herself.

A life with them was better than being turned inside out and left to the elements. Just barely.

You lift yourself on shaking arms and nearly fall as you turn. You would have if not for Hongjoong catching you. He lifts you back to the table much gentler, letting your legs dangle as you sit on the table top.

"Why... why me?"

"... Have you heard of Harry Talbot?"

"Harry Talbots a myth... what's he got to do with your fuck shit?"

"Harry Talbot was the first wolf that could smell his mate. He could tell just by her smell, they were meant to be." Hongjoong slots his way between your legs, smiling down at you with his bloody teeth, "her smell called to him. It wasn't just good. It wasn't a normal scent. It was...alluring."

You were growing dizzy, head spinning.

"Strong alphas can sniff out their true mate. And, baby, we're the strongest that there is."

You have to force yourself to swallow. Have to remember to breathe.

"Why? Because you're... alluring."

That's the last thing you can register before your world turns dark.

˚➶ ｡˚ PART ONE END ˚➶ ｡˚

[jarofstyles]

3:33

Helloooo and happy spooky season. I finally have something scary-ish to put up for you guys

This is a Demon!H fic, which means he is not following all the same morals as most humans have. He is manipulative and kinda fucked in the head but he is obsessed with Y/N.

Check out our Patreon for early access and 200+ exclusive writings

WC- 6k

Warnings- demon!H, manipulation, allusions to stalking behavior, supernatural elements, spitting, smut, unprotected sex, creampie, cum play, choking, impact play (spanking), slight corruption vibes, selling your soul, etc etc etc

She sat in the dark, waiting for him.

He came every night. It was like clockwork, time ticking away with each beat of the moving hands, little ticks thrumming louder until it matched her pulse. Sitting under the fluffy duvet, she felt the familiar fear trickling down her spine- but the excitement was beginning to outshine the cool flush that he originally brought in.

As humiliating as it may be to admit to anyone else, she chose the babydoll she dressed her body in for him. A soft satin with lace cups to caress her breasts, a creamy color complimenting her deeply. Her cheeks felt hot as she sat with her legs criss crossed, fiddling with the hair tossed over her shoulder as her eyes looked towards the clock.

3:32. It was almost time. One minute.

The first time he had come, she had tried to scream but he took that ability from her. The man wasn’t human. His eyes devoid of color, his smile haunting but beautiful, she had frozen as she laid in her bed with sweat trickling down her neck and tears lacing her waterline. And all he’d done was caress her cheek. Laugh at her. Tell her he’d come back next time, and when he did, she shouldn’t be so loud- screeching annoyed him. 

So she did.

Harry. Harry. Harry. That was his name. He’d known hers, but he didn’t tell her how. He was a demon, he said. He knew all he wanted to know about her. He was always watching.

3:33. Her spine stiffened as she felt the room heat up significantly as the door to her closet moved.

 He was here.

Harry stepped out of the shadows, his form shimmering into sight with an almost unnoticeable ripple. His eyes were on her, watching as her breath hitched and her hands tightened on the soft fabric of the blankets. She looked good, dressed up like that. So innocent, so pure. Such a pretty thing for a human. It’s what drew him to her, the poor thing. Such an unfortunate curse for a human, to capture the unwavering attention of a demonic man. Her kindness, her weakness for all things soft and small. She was a good person, and had a good heart. And it only served to make him want to dirty her up. Take all of that for himself.

He approached the bed, his steps silent as he stalked towards her like a predator. His eyes never left hers, watching as her pupils dilated with fear and something else. Excitement. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath hitching each time he took a step closer. He could see the pulse in her neck fluttering wildly, and he felt an almost irresistible urge to lean down and sink his teeth into her flesh. To mark her.

His fingers curled around the footboard of her bed, knuckles turning white as he fought to control himself. His nails, sharp and black like obsidian, dug into the wood, leaving deep marks as he dragged them down. His own chest heaved, the white dress shirt unbuttoned to reveal his pale, muscled chest. Each breath pulled the fabric taut.

It was silent between them for a moment. Just observation. Monster and human, watching one another in curiosity. He felt increasingly drawn to the woman by the day, and she found herself wishing for his presence at night. Getting restless until he came to her. Just as he’d hoped. This time, though, he let her be the one to break the silence.

“Hi.” She whispered, licking her dry lip as her hands fisted the duvet in her lap. What more could be said in the moment? He usually led the conversation, he was the one who seemed to know more about her, but the interest of her own had been raised. Building day by day, bubbling under her skin.

Harry’s lips twitched as he watched her. His eyes flickered down to her lips, watching as her pink tongue darted out to lick the plump bottom one. He could see her pulse fluttering in her neck, the delicate hollow of her throat bobbing as she swallowed nervously. Her fear was so delicious. The most pure sort of fear, one he wanted to have on tap.

“Hello, Angel.” He finally responded, his voice like velvet. A deep, rich rumble that seemed to reverberate through the very room itself. His tongue darted out, licking over his teeth as he watched her. “I do like the outfit choice. Very much.” His eyes roamed down the length of her, appreciating the way the lace cups held her breasts. “A little too much, if I’m being honest. Did you pick it for me?”

Y/N knew she couldn’t lie to him. She didn’t have much of a choice. It was impossible to, not when he was around- and she had tried. He’d managed to undo a lot of layers in her.

“Yes.” She confirmed with a nod. “I-I… I’m not positive why.” It was the truth, too. Her mind was slightly confused. She knew she was attracted to him, that she had come to find him to haunt her dreams in the most filthy and inappropriate way when she went to sleep, but she wasn’t the most outgoing when it came to being seductive. and certainly not with a man who wasn’t human. She had no idea what indulging what got herself into, and yet she felt the overwhelming pull to do so.

Harry grinned wide, his teeth sharp as he stepped closer to her on the bed. “Oh, I think you know. You’re just a little afraid to admit it to yourself, that’s all.” His hand came up, long fingers curling around her chin as he tilted her head back to look up at him. “You’re attracted to me, Angel. You want me.” His thumb brushed over her bottom lip, pushing gently until her mouth parted slightly. “Say it.”

His eyes bore into hers, unblinking and intense. His touch was firm. Unyielding. He wouldn’t back down until she gave him what he wanted. His thumb pushed a little further into her mouth, pressing against her teeth. “I know that we’ve been having our nightly visits and you sit with those deer like eyes and stare up at me, less afraid and more excited each time I step up to your bed. You lean into my touch. A sweet little human like you, it’s unheard of really.” It’s part of the fun. Harry loved that bit of it. Her confusion over it and yet she gave into the innermost desires. “Why don’t you push those blankets off, sit up on your knees.”

“Keep your eyes on mine the whole time, understand?” His voice was deep and smooth, but there was an undercurrent of demand that left no room for argument. He released his fingers from her mouth and stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers as he waited for her to follow his instructions. Once she did, he stood in front of her with a hint of a smile. Just a little bit, his lip tilted up with a smidgen of dimple showing as he slid his knuckles over her jawline and down to her thundering pulse. “There. You follow directions well, mm?”

He continued his exploration down, finding the straps of the babydoll she’d put on in his honor. “And this… Did you put this on to tempt me?” He sucked his teeth for a second, pulling on the elastic and letting it snap back into place. “Or what, little angel? What’s the purpose?”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as he touched her, his knuckles rough against her skin. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, even standing this close to him. Her heart pounded in her chest, echoing in her ears as she did as he asked, keeping her eyes locked on his. She felt a shiver run down her spine as he cupped her jaw, his thumb brushing over her lip. "I-I..." She stammered, her words catching in her throat as he touched her. His voice was so commanding, so sure of himself. It was both intimidating and exhilarating. Y/N could feel the traitorous heat spreading through her body, settling between her legs. "I... I put it on because I thought you'd like it." She admitted, her voice hesitant. "I don't know why..." She trailed off, shaking her head slightly. What had she expected? 

Harry’s smile widened, revealing more of his teeth. “You don’t know why… or you don’t want to admit it to yourself? C’mon, sweetheart. We’ve been over it.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. “Because I think you do. I think you want me to like it. Want me to touch you… Want me to fuck you…” His hand moved from her jaw to the strap of her babydoll, pulling it down her shoulder. 

“I think you’ve been having dreams about me stroking your skin, licking all over you, getting deeper inside that sopping cunt than any of those pathetic men that keep trying to ask you on dates at your job could ever do. I think that it’s ironic that since I’ve revealed myself to you, you’ve barely been giving any man the time of day. And yet…” He dragged down the other strap, letting his nail drag against her fragile skin. “You put on the sweetest scented lotions for me. You do your hair nice and pretty, you make your skin so fucking soft… because you want me to touch you. You put on little outfits you want me to take off.” It made him chuckle under his breath, the entire demeanor of him towering over her slightly terrifying and fully exhilarating. Arousing, almost. “It’s so cute, it’s pathetic.”

Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned in close, his voice dropping to that gravelly whisper. She felt her body tense as he spoke, her heart pounding harder in her chest. He was so forward, so crude. And yet… it sent a jolt of heat between her legs. She could feel her body reacting to his words, her panties damp and her peaked nipples straining against the satin of her babydoll.

Harry’s hand moved from her shoulder to her breast, cupping it firmly in his palm. He could feel the hard bud of her nipple pressing against his skin. He broke away from her gaze, looking down at the mounds of flesh spilling out of the top of her nightgown. “Look at that… so eager for my touch.” He chuckled darkly, his thumb rubbing over the peak of her nipple through the fabric. “Do you want me to touch you, pretty human? As lovely as it is to have you speechless, I need you to open that mouth and start talking.”

He continued to rub over her, his touch making her melt. So unusual, like she’s been dipped in thick, warm water. Y/N could feel her body responding, her breath coming in short gasps as pleasure coursed through her. She bit her lip, struggling to find the words he wanted to hear. "Y-yes..." She finally managed to whisper, her voice barely audible as she managed to get it out of her throat. "I want you to touch me." She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I want you to do... everything you said."

Harry’s grin was wicked as he listened to her speak. “Good girl. That’s what I wanted to hear.” He murmured, his hand moving from her breast to the hem of her nightgown. He slowly began to pull it up, his knuckles brushing against her stomach and sides. “Now… let’s see what you’ve got hidden beneath this.” As the fabric reached her ribs, he paused, looking down at her body. “You know, I’ve been wondering what you’d feel like. I hadn’t anticipated your desperation. Most humans stay terrified, like the first time I revealed myself to you. Their hearts pounding and their blood feeling like ice. But I knew you’d be different.”

 His fingertips were hot as they caressed her stomach, the other hand lightly brushed the hair from her shoulder. “So sweet, yet so brave. Got a monster in your room, n’yet here you go… dressing up for him. Getting all slick between the thighs for him.”

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly dragged her nightgown up until it was bunched around her waist, exposing her lower half to him. Her breathing grew shallow as she felt the cool air brush against her bare skin. His fingers slowly traced up her thighs, gently parting her legs further.  “Look at that.” Her body was beautiful. “See? You’ve got such an angelic body, and you want me to do such filthy, nasty, depraved things to it.” He clicked his tongue, watching her shiver. “I can smell how wet you are, little thing. S’pathetic. Sweet little angel, dripping all over those pretty panties you chose for your demon t’see you in. Ought t’just leave you here to take care of yourself.”

Y/N's eyes fluttered closed as his fingers danced up her thighs, parting her legs further. A soft moan escaped her lips as a rush of heat pooled between her thighs. Her breath hitched in her throat as he spoke, his words sending shivers down her spine. She could feel her face growing hot, embarrassment mixing with arousal. "No!" she squeaked, her voice pitched as her eyes widened up at him. The idea of him leaving her like this was the last thing she wanted to happen. "Please, don't leave me like this..."

Harry chuckled darkly, enjoying the way her desperation made her voice quiver. “Like what, pretty human? All hot and bothered, with no relief in sight? Aching to be touched, toyed with, filled? All because of little old me?” His fingers continued to trace patterns on her skin, coming agonizingly close to where she needed them most but never quite touching.

Without warning, a hand tangled in her hair, pulling to arch her head back. The little gasp fueled him, the desperation in the human’s face almost humorous at this point. It hurt her a little, the grip, but he could smell that she liked it. “I thought you were this sweet little thing when I first saw you. Picking those flowers in the garden to bring to your neighbor, baking things to bring to nurses, walking those little animals at the shelter, offering directions to people you barely knew.” Her humid cunt was so close to his fingers but he only slightly brushed over the damp fabric with his knuckles. “I knew that there had to be something wrong with you. Jus’ didn’t think it would be that you’d get wet for a monster like me.”

He leaned down, his voice a dark growl in her ear. “But now I see it. You’re not just some sweet little thing. You’re a nasty, desperate little slut, aren’t you? All dressed up in your pretty panties and nightgown, just waiting for me to come and fuck you.” His tongue darted out, licking the shell of her ear. “And I will fuck you, pretty human.”

His breath was hot against her ear as he spoke, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Let me tell you what I’m gonna do.” His hand released her hair, instead tracing down her neck, between her breasts, and down her stomach. “I’m gonna tear these pretty little things you’ve got on to shreds, and then…” His fingers hooked under the hem of her damp underwear, pulling it tight against her before snapping it. “M’gonna make sure that tight little cunt is nice n’thoroughly soaked so it takes my cock a bit easier. I’m not the patient type when it comes to this sort of thing.”

He leaned down and captured her lips in a brutal, dominating kiss. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, claiming her as his. The demon bit her lower lip, making it bleed just slightly, before sucking on it and letting go with a pop. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he growled against her mouth, before kissing her again, harder this time. His hand gripped her face, holding her still for his kiss, his thumb digging into her cheeks.

As his kiss deepened, his hand snaked down between her thighs once more. His thumb found her swollen nub and began to rub slow, firm circles around it. She gasped into his mouth, her hips bucking against his hand. He chuckled against her lips, his grip tightening on her face to keep her in place. "Shh, little thing," he whispered against her mouth, his voice dark and mocking. "This is just the beginning."

His touch became more insistent, his thumb rubbing her fast and hard, like he knew she liked it. He broke the kiss to watch her face as he kept her head back, mouth open for him to do as he pleased. His other hand gripped her jaw, forcing her to keep her face tilted up towards him. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice low. "Look at me while I touch you- keep that mouth open."

"Good girl." he praised, as she whimpered, her breath hitching as he sped up his pace. Without warning, he spit into her open mouth, watching as she tried to swallow it reflexively. "Mmm, that’s it. Swallow it all down." He leaned in, his tongue darting in to lick up what was left of his saliva from the corners of her lips. "You’d let me do anything I wanted to, wouldn’t you?”

His voice was laced with dark amusement as he continued to rub her swollen clit, feeling her grow even wetter from his treatment. Poor little thing really needed a proper fuck, and no human would be able to give it to her. "Answer me, pretty human. You'd let me do anything, wouldn't you?" His grip on her jaw tightened, his thumb pressing down hard on her chin, making her open her mouth wider. "Nod if you'll be a good little toy for me."

She nodded eagerly, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment before flying back open to meet his gaze. He grinned wickedly, his hand moving faster, his touch firmer. "Good girl. You'll take whatever I give you, won't you?" He leaned down, his hot breath washing over her face. "You'll take my fingers, my thick tongue, my cock, my spit... " He paused, his eyes glinting mischievously. “My cum.”

Y/n let out a high-pitched whine, her body shaking slightly as he spoke. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, she nodded frantically, her hands clenching into fists at her sides as she tried to hold herself together. "Uh-huh.” The feeling was almost trance like as she rocked her hips against his hand, his dark eyes boring into her own as she felt her own lull from the heat of pleasure simmering in her lower stomach. The grip he had on her left no room for argument but she didn’t want to. As long as he didn’t stop, she was happy.

He knew he had her right where he wanted her. She was so close now, her face prickled with sweat, her breath coming in short pants. He could see the desperation in her eyes, the plea for release. But he wasn’t ready to give it to her just yet. He slowed his touch, his thumb barely brushing over her swollen bud. "Not yet, little thing," he murmured, his voice mockingly gentle. “Lay back and spread your legs. Let me see that cunt.”

Y/n hesitated for a moment, his words making her feel exposed and vulnerable, but the need for release was too great. She slowly laid back, spreading her legs wide apart as he demanded. He let out a low whistle, his gaze raking over her dripping pussy. "Fuck, you're soaked," he said, his voice filled with appreciation. He reached out, his fingers dipping into her folds, spreading her open even wider. "Shouldn’t have waited this long. If I’d known you were gagging for it like this... Well, I’d have bent you over a few nights ago."

He leaned down between her thighs, his hot breath washing over her wet slit. Fucking finally. As delicious as her fear had been at first, he preferred this. Seeing her spread out and so desperate for him that she was near tears. She squirmed, her hips lifting off the bed, inviting him in- and that’s all the push he needed. He grinned against her, his hands gripping her thighs and pushing them back even further. "Greedy little thing, you’ll get what I give you." he chuckled darkly, his tongue snaking out to lap at her. She cried out, her back arching, her hands fisting the sheets beneath her.

He licked her slowly, his tongue flat against her pussy, lapping up her juices. She tasted so fucking good, he could eat her out all night- but he had other plans. He focused on her clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue, feeling it swell under his touch. "Harry- Sir.." She whimpered, her hands finding their way to his hair, gripping it tightly. Maybe she shouldn’t be touching a demon so liberally but she wasn’t thinking about anything other than the pleasure building up in her stomach. "Please, please... I need t’cum."

He hummed against her, the vibrations sending shivers through her entire body. He could feel her nearing the edge, her breath hitching, her grip on his hair tightening. He pulled back at the last second, smiling cruelly when she let out a frustrated cry. "Not yet." he chided, his hands gripping her thighs and flipping her onto her stomach. He pushed her upper body down into the mattress, lifting her hips up to meet him. “You’d think that such a nice girl would have better manners. Follow instructions, little human. Your orgasm belongs to me. I say when it happens.” His hand came down rough against her ass, making her jolt.

He brought his hand down again, the sound of his palm meeting her soft flesh filling the room. Y/N whimpered, her face burying into the sheets, her back arching as she tried to meet each smack of his hand. Despite the stinging pain, her body still yearned for release. She could feel her juices sliding down her thighs, her body tensing with anticipation as she waited for him to touch her again. Any touch, anything the demon gave her was something she was hungry for. 

“Fuck. Look at you.” He was genuinely impressed at how well she took it, how much she liked it. The woman was dripping, soaking fucking wet, and it was all because of him. His ego was plenty big, but it only served to swell it further. “Such a slut.” His voice dropped low. “I think you’re plenty wet to take my cock now, considering you can’t sit still for a second.”

He crawled up her body, his weight pressing down on her back as he leaned over her body, one hand between them slipping his cock over her slick cunt. His hips lowered, his hot flesh parting the folds and he nudged her clit. "You sure you can handle it, little thing?" He murmured against her ear, his breath hot on her skin.

“Yeah, I can. I can do it, just put it in me. Please.” Even when she was being edged, she managed to be polite. How darling.

His hips slowly rolled, the thick head of his erection easing into her. It wasn’t the easiest thing, but she was so slick that it helped. The poor pussy was stretched as he sunk in, fluttering around him as it tried to get used to the intrusion- and it would. Harry would make sure of it. “Fuck!” He heard her gasp, her fingers clenching on the sheets beneath them. "So...big." She whimpered, the words muffled by the bedding. He chuckled darkly, his arms wrapping around her waist and lifting her up onto her knees, her back arching to meet his chest.

“I am big. And you’re taking it like a good little angel. Aren’t you?” He started to move, his hips slowly rolling beneath her, his cock sliding in and out of her in languid pulls. 

She let out a low moan, her head falling back against his shoulder, her body melting into his. “Yes-I’m taking it… I’m taking your cock…” she whimpered, her voice filled with pleasure. It was something different altogether. Sparks of heat all over her body, his strength keeping her up, the most full she had ever felt, and she wondered how she had ever lived without this feeling before.

“You are. Filthy little fucktoy, finally serving your purpose." His voice was a dark purr in her ear, his hot breath washing over her neck. His hips rolled against hers, his strong hand reaching up to hold her throat. She could hear the wet sounds of their bodies meeting, the squelching noises of how turned on she was, and he was more than happy to point it out. "Listen to that. That's the sound of you being so eager for me."

His grip on her throat tightened just a bit as he slowing increased his pace, gucking up into her harder. The new angle had his cock hitting a  spot inside of her that had her gasping, hand grabbing at his forearm to try and ground herself at the stimulation. it was overwhelming in the best way, making her feel a new sense of frenzied she’d never had before, "Fuck, right there. Don't stop, m’begging you- it’s so good." She slurred out, her hips rolling back to meet his thrusts. Her pussy clenched around him like a vice, fluttering and squeezing his thick length.

"That's it, little angel. You can take it. Fucking milk my cock." His pace was relentless , inhuman stamina helping him keep her right where he wanted her. It was too fucking good.

After all the time he’s spent watching her, dipping his toes inside her dreams and planting seeds in her mind to help her want him, he was taking what he wanted. She was loving it. He’d known he’d give it to her good, that she’d never be able to compare him to a human because there wasn’t a chance in hell they could give her what he could -pun intended- but his obsession with the sweet little human was far more engrained in him than he thought. She genuinely loved this. There was no way he could even compel her to respond like this. The girl was eager and he was going to give it to her. He could feel her tightening around him, her body quaking as the pressure built. "You want to cum, don't you slutty girl? Want to cum on my cock?"

"Yes, fuck- I'm so close. Please, please let me cum.” The begging was music to his ears. Matched with how she felt wrapped around him, he knew he was going to come back for more. This was his human now. No take backs. “I'll do anything, just please let me cum on your cock" She was practically sobbing with need, her pussy clenching and fluttering wildly around him, trying to milk his throbbing cock. The wet squelching noises were obscene, her arousal dripping down his shaft and making a mess over his balls but he loved every bit of it.

“Oh, you’ll get it. I’ll let you have it, little angel." He cooed in her ear, his pace slowing as his hips rolled forward, burying himself to the hilt inside her and holding there. His strong hand left her throat and reached down, his fingers slipping between them. Fingertips pressed  against her little bud, rolling it between his thick digits. “For a price.”

She whimpered as he stilled within her, her head turning to nuzzle her nose against his cheek as she tried to beg for more. His fingers on her swollen bud had her back arching further, her hips rolling to meet the pressure, "Oh, anything. Anything, jus’ let me cum.” she whined, her breath hitching as he bullied her clit with his circles. So mean, so good.  “What do you w-want?”

“Your soul.” He purred softly, shallowly thrusting inside of her. “All you need to do is promise yourself to me, sweet angel. Give me your soul, devote yourself to me… and you can have my cock every single night. No one else can have this pussy- but you won’t want to give it to anyone else.” The words were whispered in a soothing tone, mumbled against her cheek.

She whimpered at the promise, her arm wrapping back around his neck tighter as she felt like he was asking for more than her body. She bit her bottom lip, hesitating as she tried to think through the haze of pleasure. It felt hard to think when all she could comprehend was how right it felt to be stuffed to the brim with his fat cock. Every nerve ending was singing his praises. His hands kept up their work, his hips slowly rolling forward to bury himself to the hilt within her. The sensation was heavenly, and she wanted more. "You-you promise? Every night?" Her voice was breathy, needy.

“As long as you give me your soul and give me your devotion, yes. It’s the only way you’ll get me. Get this.” His fingers quickened on her clit, the other hand gently pressing the sides of her throat. “Tell me that you belong to me, mind body and soul, and I’ll let you cum. I’ll fill you with my cum and fuck it into you so you can feel it when you go do all your good deeds tomorrow before crawling back into bed, so you can wait for another load from the very opposite of what you stand for.”

She shuddered, her eyes fluttering shut as his words washed over her. The pleasure was so intense, her mind hazing over until only his voice and touch remained. She could feel herself teetering on the edge, desperate for release. His fingers on her throat made her feel so small, so owned. The thought of being filled with his sinful essence, a secret sin that would fuel her righteous deeds... it was fucked up, but it made her clench around him needily.

“Answer me, Angel. Give yourself to me and I’ll give you my cum. You’ll feel it trickling out of you as you lay in bed tomorrow morning, remember my touch. Remember that you’re mine.” He leaned into her, his teeth nipping at her earlobe. His fingers were relentless, the hand on her throat tightening ever so slightly. “Tell me.” 

Her voice was high-pitched, desperate as she gasped. Maybe she’d wake up tomorrow and regret this, but for now she couldn’t. Swimming in the hazy waters that was the overwhelming pleasure the demon could hand her, she wanted the endless supply.  "I'm yours! Mind, body, soul... it's all yours. Please, please give me what I need. I-I'll remember, I promise. I'll remember that I belong to you." She could barely speak, her breathing hitching as she grew closer and closer to the peak. Her hips jerked against his grasp, silently begging for more.

As the words left her lips, Harry could feel her surrendering to him completely. Her soul, her very essence, now belonged to him. With a deep, rumbling growl of satisfaction, he captured her lips in a searing kiss, swallowing her cries as he finally allowed her to cum. His fingers on her clit increased pressure and speed, pushing her over the edge into ecstasy.

Her body stiffened, her head tilting back to break the kiss as her mouth hung open in a silent scream. His hips surged forward, burying himself deep as he let out a dark laugh, malicious in nature as he felt the binding take hold. He swelled inside of her, her inner walls fluttering and clenching around him as her release claimed her.

As he felt her surrender, Harry's own orgasm ripped through him like a freight train. His eyes rolled back, his teeth clenching in a snarl as he began to cum inside of her. His arm held her up, lightly pinching her clit to make her clench around him as he pulsed shot after shot into her, rocking his hips into her- he wanted every drop inside of his new possession. His claim to take. His cum was thick and hot, filling her to the brim as he emptied himself into her. It seeped out of her, dripping down her thighs as he finally slowed, his orgasm subsiding. He pulled out of her, his softening prick leaving her hole open. Pushing her back down into the mattress, he pressed her face into the pillow as he examined his handiwork.

He spread her apart, admiring the way his seed was leaking out of her. So fucking filthy and wrong for a girl who acted like an angel, but at night she had promised herself to the devil. And that couldn’t be undone. He smirked darkly, knowing that by tomorrow, it would have soaked into her, a constant reminder of him. What they’d done. She’d never be able to escape it. Running a finger along her crease, he gathered some of the excess before bringing it up to her face. "Open up. Have a taste." he commanded, pressing his digit against her lips.

With a soft sigh, she parted her lips and allowed his finger to slip inside. Her eyes fluttered closed as she tentatively tasted his essence, a salty and slightly bitter tang coating her tongue. It was the taste of sin, of forbidden fruit, and she couldn't help but suck his finger clean, her cheeks hollowing out. When he withdrew, she let out a soft, needy sound, her face coated with embarrassment and desire. This wasn’t her, it wasn’t a way she’d ever acted with anyone else, but the monster had effectively trapped her in his clutches- and she had no wish for escape, either. Her legs felt like jelly, her skin flushed and hot in the best way, the orgasm nearly having made her pass out. It was safe to say she had been fucked stupid.

Satisfied with her compliance, Harry grinned. Really grinned, teeth and dimples and all. He ran his hands over her back and bottom, squeezing the softness of her possessively. His. It was all his now. After months of watching and waiting, of his nightly visits, she had given in. "You're going to stay like this for a little while longer, alright?" He didn't wait for her response, instead, he flipped her over and pushed her thighs apart, spreading her wet, messied hole wide. "I want you to lie here, like this, and think about who you belong to."

Her arms were splayed above her head, her fingers clutching at the sheets. Her chest rose and fell with quickened breaths, and her eyes were locked onto his, watching as he ran his fingers along her inner thighs, occasionally dipping down to toy with her, keeping her on edge. "You're mine, aren't you?" His voice was low, almost hypnotic. "Say it. Remind me of what I already know." His thumb brushed against her swollen nub, making her gasp.

“I’m yours.” She breathed, eyes opening from their state of rest. The man was hauntingly beautiful, brutal lines and soft skin, hot and silky, and all she knew was that her brain could only remember his name and one sentence to spill out of her swollen mouth. “I belong to you, mind, body and soul. I am happy to be yours.”

There was no turning back now. 

3:33

[twobellsilence]

I genuinely can't understand why some people still think of Anya as a clumsy, squeamish, incompetent bundle of nerves after finishing the game. Like you'd think that, even before the end, players would realize that Jimmy is a very unreliable narrator, what with his manipulative tendencies, the fact that he's literally hallucinating every other scene, and how different the rest of the crew seems to act from Curly's perspective. But no, many seem to take this version of Anya at face value, and it's very sad because not only is she the most important character in the game, but that description of her falls apart once you actually think about her for a split second!

Anya kept Curly, a severe burn victim and amputee, alive with basic medical supplies. This means she had to take care of him tirelessly, debride his wounds, set up and change his IV, change his bandages, set and clean a bedpan for him... Would a squeamish person be able to do that? A clumsy person who constantly forgets about things? Would an incompetent woman who, according to Jimmy, isn't even worth her title as a nurse, be able to take care of such a high-risk patient that needs tending to like clockwork? No, of course not! Anya is driven. Dedicated. Impossibly strong. This isn't just any patient, but her captain, someone who was clearly important to her and then tried to kill everyone (allegedly), which would no doubt add an extra layer of complexity to working with him in this context. And yet he's still alive and breathing and in top shape all things considered.

The only two things that point to her being incompetent is her inability to enter medical school - the reasons why are never so much as mentioned, but Anya herself says she has no savings, and I haven't really seen anyone speculate it could be because of money, not necessarily her lack of skill - and her inability to give Curly painkillers, which clearly triggers an intense trauma response from her, so it's understandable that she'd seek help from someone else to do it. And then there's the fact that it's not just anyone, but her abuser. Would an incompetent person steel herself and try to convince her RAPIST, someone she's so scared of she literally hid the only gun on the ship so he wouldn't be able to take it, to give her patient painkillers? She could've stalled. Could've straight up given up on trying to give Curly his meds. But she would rather face Jim head on than let that happen, because she's brave, and she knows what she's doing, and refuses to let even her very real trauma get in the way of her duty.

See what I mean? It's easy to see her simply as a nervous person, who spaces out and mopes and can't do something as basic as give a guy some pills. But that's the thing - it's easy. Once you go a little further, once you spot the discrepancies between her apparent personality versus her actions and the way she behaved during Curly's sections, you begin to realize Jim is wrong about her, and you are, too.

For a fandom that likes to overanalyze anything (as you should with a game like this), it's genuinely sad how the same effort isn't always extended to Anya.

[i2ycat]

two wrongs don’t make one right

pairing lee heeseung x fem!reader synopsis mistakes always happen, whether you mean to make them or not. but it’s not a question of ‘do you like heeseung?’ anymore, it’s more so: ‘why do you like heeseung?’. or in which, two wrongs just don’t make one right genre college!au, slight fluff, angst, established relationship word count 3k+ warnings cursing, crying, toxic relationship between heeseung and reader, implications of a professor x student relationship, heeseung is implied to have possibly cheated, reader cheats w sunghoon, everyone is of age, bitchy & manipulative characters, reader is insecure, small mention of smoking weed, lmk if i missed anything else lyn speaking it’s been 2 months since i last posted anything oh my…. erm! here’s a little fic before i disappear again lol <//3 i don’t condone anything that happens in this fic or any of their decisions!!!! main masterlist

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

The weekend had rolled by faster than you could blink. One second, you’re rotting away in your room and the next, you’re hopping on one foot in front of your mirror, hastily getting ready for the day because you’re running 30 minutes late to your 10am coding class. You’re usually the type to wake up earlier than your alarm, but you were staying up way later than you usually would’ve the night before— staying up late to talk to your boyfriend of 7 months, Lee Heeseung.

Known to be the academy’s most influential guy, Lee Heeseung was, and still is, quite the character. Simply calling him influential would be a grave understatement though, because he descended from a family of powerful politicians and businessmen, even having the biggest corporation in all of South Korea— Lee Tech— as part of his familial pedigree.

It’s no secret that he has the entire world at his fingertips, and at any given moment, he could burn it if he wanted to.

But like how everything else in this world is unfair, Lee Heeseung wasn’t just disgustingly rich, he also inherited his mother’s celebrity looks— evident in his sharp features and overly charming personality. He has girls constantly eyeing him left and right, up and down, even when you’re around.

You went into this relationship knowing full well the certain costs it had to your own happiness and well-being. In the 7 months you’ve been seeing each other, you’ve never felt so insecure in your entire life. And despite his constant reassurances, you know that he couldn’t even begin to imagine half of the battlefield you were facing.

No matter how much you try to deny it, you were subconsciously fighting for his attention against people who were born to be at the same status as he is— in terms of wealth, power, and looks. You always hated being born into a grassroots-level family, but you knew that being salty about your birth-given circumstances would change absolutely nothing. So you worked hard as fuck to be able to get into such a prestigious university. You threw the entirety of your youth away to be able to be the first in your family to go to college, and here you are, barely hanging onto your scholarship because of some boy you met at a party almost half a year earlier. 

They’re only admirers, he said. It was just you and him, he said. You just needed to trust him, he said, but that’s something easier said than done, especially for you.

“Running late again?” The security guard monotonously inquires. He’s seen this exact scene about a thousand times and more with other students before you, so he’s chopping the late slip and handing it back to you like clockwork, but this time with a small smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. It was as if he had a good day but not good enough to warrant the toiling of doing such a challenging task.

Not that it mattered to you anyways.

You ducked your head in an informal ‘thank you’ before hurriedly leaving the stale office and into the hallways.

The hallways always seemed unending whenever you were running late, the rows of windows you ran past would multiply tenfold and the clock’s hands would run faster than it usually would— it felt as if time was warping everything within its reach.

Finally, the running reached its stop. You bent on your knees to catch your breath, the late slip crumpling in between your fingers in the process.

One.

Two.

You counted.

There was no reason to panic. Just walk in, hand the slip and sit your ass down. The visual in your head was clear and it somewhat helped to calm down your nerves. So with one last deep breath, you turn the brass handle and walk in.

You’re so damn dramatic.

The doors creaking reverberates in the small auditorium, easily catching everyone’s attention. You gulp down the lump in your throat as you watch your professor pass you a look of disapproval. It made your heart drop, because you were his best student and you hate disappointing people who expect great things from you. Your let your gaze angle towards the carpeted floors, making your way to the seat closest to the door.

When you feel as if you’ve disappeared into your seat, it was as if you could breathe again. You were finally away from the spotlight and people’s unnervingly curious eyes ceased trailing your every move. You should really start sleeping earlier or you’d have to get used to this.

“Hey,” Erin, your seatmate, whispers. Her voice tried to be as discreet as it could in a whisper… it didn’t really work. The professor gave her a stern stare as a form of warning, though you could tell it had an entirely different undertone, even from a mile away. It left a bad taste in your mouth, having to bear witness to such unprofessional exchanges of looks in an academic setting of all places. Erin, who bites her lip, scribbles whatever she was going to say to you on a torn piece of paper.

“Wanna know a secret?” It read with two boxes just right underneath it: yes or no. You look at her with a dumbfounded look plastered all over your face. You knew she was childish to a certain extent, but was she really that childish? Nevertheless, you tick the box on the left and send it back to her.

Cause you know, curiosity killed the cat.

You should’ve seen the conniving smirk plastered on her lips but you were too focused on your thoughts to notice anything else around you. She scribbles once more then folds it, dropping it into your hands with the hastily written warning facing you: “read it when you get home. preferably alone lol ;)”.

Then, class is dismissed.

You watch her get up from her seat and blend in with everybody else rushing out of the room, not missing the heavy glance she passes at the professor. You didn’t even want to stay any longer to see what happened next, so you started haphazardly shoving things into your bag instead, remembering to pocket the small note into the depths of your jacket.

When you leave the room, Lee Heeseung is already standing there, in all his lazy-fitted glory— messy bed hair hiding under a hood, donning the black hoodie you both bought as a couple’s set for valentines last week and the black sweatpants you bought for him to match.

“Hello, beautiful.” He coos, engulfing you in a tight one-armed hug. It gave you the opportunity to take in his woody yet elegant-smelling perfume, the same Jo Malone one he wore everyday.

Your heart swelled in its place, appreciating how, without fail, Heeseung would wait for you outside your classes whenever he could, even if they ended really late— late enough that he should be at home resting, but instead, he would spend that time waiting for you like the good boyfriend he is.

“Hey,” you smile into his chest. “Ugh, I woke up late again today thanks to a certain someone.”

“Wonder who that is? Maybe I should give them a word or two about keeping my princess up so late.” He pulls you from his chest to cup your face, coaxing you to fall deeper with that sweet smile of his. It never fails to make you feel like you’re the only girl in his world, like he’s got your back no matter what.

It was dangerous for such a smile to have the ability to make you forget about all your problems, even ones pertaining to him.

“You’re such a dork,” you roll your eyes at him as you push him away.

“At least I’m your dork, so naturally… it cancels out.” A boyish grin spreads across his face so innocently that you can’t help but press a kiss on his nose, immediately prompting him to blush a crimson red at your sudden display of affection. “What was that for?”

“You looked cute,” you shrug.

At this, Heeseung turns an impossibly darker shade of red. “You can’t just say things like that so casually and expect me to be okay.” The way he attempts to cover the blush in his face behind his hands makes you laugh, completely and utterly endeared by him.

“I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll give you a heads up, yeah?”

“You’re so mean.” He pouts.

When you got yourself entangled with the Lee Heeseung all those months ago, you didn’t think that he would have such a boyish and cute side to him. His public persona had always been this untouchable, charismatic guy who could get anything he wanted with a snap of his finger, so you could imagine the whiplash you experienced when the first time you ever kissed him, he blushed so deeply you thought he was drunk.

It made you feel special, being the only one to have ever brought out this side of him, like you had him wrapped around your finger.

“Yeah, but you can’t ever bring yourself to hate me.”

“That… is very true, I’m afraid.” Heeseung sighs, catching your hand in his. “I’m kinda hungry, right now. Sushi?”

“Sure.”

—

Over the course of your entire life, there’ve only been a handful of times where you’ve been betrayed by people you trusted: first when you were twelve, being wrongly accused of having cheated on a test by your then best friend; second when you were the only one to have been thrown under the bus by people you thought were your close group of friends for smoking weed in your highschool’s bathroom cubicle; and third when you found out that Heeseung had been with Erin during the one-week break in your relationship.

The note passed to you by Erin from earlier in the month stays ripped into pieces in the palm of your hand. You’d forgotten all about it until a few hours ago, and you wished it had stayed that way. But you know by now that things never go your way.

You and Heeseung were on break for about a week, citing that you were not in the mental headspace to be dealing with a relationship at that moment in time because of your slipping grades, and he understandably obliged, even kissing your forehead goodbye as you left his apartment.

Erin’s written confession, if you could even call it that, echoes in your mind like a blaring alarm.

from girlie to girlie, your boyfriend came onto me while you guys were on your little break. must say, your boyfriend is talented at making people cry ;).

All you needed was a week to heal and sort your shit out before you went back into his arms, and he couldn’t even wait that long?

You felt sick to your stomach and you wanted nothing more than to scream your aching heart away, to be left with nothing more than a void. At least then, you would no longer feel the hurt and betrayal Heeseung inflicted upon you with his actions, and the months of torment you’d endured just to seem worthy to stay by his side.

Did he even ever truly love you like he said he did?

The more you dwell on these thoughts, the more you could feel yourself physically slipping into a state of mental numbness as you stayed motionless on your spot on the carpeted floor.

It wouldn’t be until a few more hours later that Heeseung would enter your dorm, tired as ever from his basketball practice. It was routine for him to crash at your dorm on Tuesdays and Fridays—whenever he had basketball practices— because it was more convenient for him to get to his 9am class the next day from your in-campus dorm, compared to his condo that was 20 minutes away. Adding that you gave him the energy he needed for the days ahead, but now you’re contemplating whether that part was even true or not.

“Sweetheart,” he calls out to you from the entrance. “I’ve got to tell you about what happened to Jay at practice today-” he cuts himself short as he spots your leaning figure, head tucked into your knees, surrounded by torn pieces of paper.

“Y/n?” He quickly runs to your side.

“Seungie,” you meekly whisper as you lift your head, tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes finally coming into clear view.

“Did something happen? What happened?” His hands make quick work to caress your face, tucking stray pieces of hair behind your ears and wiping tears away with his thumb.

Even after knowing what he had allegedly done behind your back, you couldn’t help but feel your heart pounding. This was the sweet, caring Heeseung you knew and loved. And so the thought that Erin could’ve been lying to you, flitters across your mind and nestles itself there.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, right?” Your voice sounds hoarse and quiet, yet the silent pleading rings deafeningly in your ears. You felt so pathetic crying in your living room about a boy who might’ve technically cheated on you, then finding yourself putty in his hands the moment he shows you the version of truth you’re familiar with.

Why are making up excuses for his behaviour?

Gosh, your roommate would kill you if she knew how much of a loser you’ve become in Heeseung’s presence.

“Of course not, baby,” he pulls you into an embrace. “There’s nothing I could ever lie to you about.” Did this ease your trust issues in any way? No. But it did assure you that Erin was still nothing but a serial liar, wanting nothing more than to see other people’s relationships fall apart for her own selfish entertainment… you think.

You hum into Heeseung’s tweed pullover.

It was always like this. You don’t know how many times you’ve gone through the same thing, and you don’t know how many more times you can go through without fully losing your sanity. But you can’t seem to find it in yourself to pull away, no matter how exhausted your heart and soul becomes.

—

“Can’t believe you stayed with him, even after knowing what he did behind your back.” Erin sneers from beside you, clearly amused by your course of actions these past few weeks.

“Whatever I do is none of your business,” you bite back through your teeth. You’ve never liked Erin, but even more so after the stunt she did that almost cost you your entire relationship with Heeseung. You should’ve known that she never had good intentions to begin with, constantly lying through her teeth. “I know you lied about it.”

She raises an eyebrow at this, “You think I’m lying? Oh baby, you’re really so fucking gullible.” Erin could practically see the cogs turning in your brain, if the furrowing of your brows were anything to go by. “I’m saying that Heeseung has you completely under his thumb, and you’re dumb enough to believe anything and everything he says,” she plays with her pen, swirling it around her finger as she eyes you. “It’s whatever though, Heeseung likes good girls anyways.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I think we both know very well.” She smirks, tapping the pen on her temple once then twice, before shifting in her seat back towards the front of the lecture hall.

Just what was her fucking deal?

It leaves you with more questions than answers, as you watch her diligently jot down notes from beside you. After today, you were for sure going to switch seats because there was just no fucking way you could survive the rest of the year this way.

—

You don’t know how you ended up here. The first minute you were being dumped by Heeseung, and the next you’re waking up with a raging hangover in his best friend's bed.

Heeseung technically didn’t dump you, telling you that he wanted a break the same you did all those months before. And you technically didn't end up in his best friend’s bed by complete choice. You were drunk out of your mind at a party last night, one that your roommate had dragged you to after seeing you in your depressed state for the past week. But no matter the excuse you try to conjure, it still doesn’t excuse the fact that you cheated on your boyfriend.

Your heart beats sporadically at the sight of Sunghoon’s bare back facing you, not because you’re flustered but because you’re instantly hit with the gravity of your own drunken choices.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

With heavy feet, you stumble out of his bed and start navigating through the mess of discarded clothes, and soon after, Sunghoon eventually stirs awake from the ruckus you were unintentionally causing in his shared dorm room. “Y/n?” He groggily calls out to you.

Fuck.

It didn’t take Sunghoon very long to figure out why the fuck you were in his room half-naked, piecing together the clues that lay around the expanse of his dorm. He clearly didn’t need to be a genius like Einstein to figure out that you and him had a drunken one-night stand. You—Heeseung’s girlfriend—and him—Heeseung’s best friend—had spent the night together. Intimately.

Right around the three-second mark, the same level of anxiety sank into his stomach. 

Fuck, indeed.

“I made a mistake.” Your voice trembled, tears starting to blur your vision as hot panic courses through you.

“Hey, we were both drunk,” Sunghoon says, sitting up at the sight of you still half-dressed and starting to break down at the foot of his bed. “Heeseung doesn’t have to know about this. We both made a mistake, and don’t blame yourself because you weren’t the only one, okay?”

“But, fuck, it doesn’t change the fact that I cheated on my boyfriend. What the fuck was I thinking?” Your fingers fly to tousle with your hair, pulling at the roots to try and ease the pounding in your head.

You weren’t any better than all the people you were disgusted by, seeing as you’ve stopped as low. Memories from last night flash through your mind, as if to haunt you; the party, the flashing lights, the drinks, the kissing, the skin against skin. You felt so fucking sick to your stomach.

“We didn’t mean to sleep with each other. We were just drunk.” Sunghoon reasons, but no amount of gaslighting could change what’s already been done.

You were either going to live with this aching thorn by your side forever, or own up to your mistakes like a normal human being with a moral compass. With how deep you’ve fallen for Heeseung, you couldn’t bear losing him, yet both options entailed losing him one way or another.

It’s best not knowing what could potentially hurt, right?

Right.

© i2ycat 2024

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (pt 15)

Masterpost

The conversation trailed off as the stars came out and Danny started to watch them, head propped against Jason’s shoulder as he stared up at the sky. Jason was content to watch the fire, the flickering was hypnotic. Time passed slowly, until Danny gave a jaw cracking yawn that made Jason chuckle.

“How about we douse the fire and head to bed huh? It’s been a long day,” Jason suggested and Danny nodded, reluctantly pulling away from Jason he got up with a groan. Jason was about to go grab a bucket of water when Danny gestured and a wash of frost rushed over the ground and doused the fire with a sizzle and a puff of smoke and steam. “How many powers do you have?” Jason blurted.

“I don’t even know, I’m still developing them sometimes,” Danny sighed as he shuffled towards the tent “Clockwork says it’s something to do with me being half human. Most ghost’s powers are sort of stuck but I’m still growing and changing so I can keep learning. I sort of eventually figure out any power I see anyone else use. As long as they’re not too specialized, I’m not going to learn time manipulation just cause I saw Clockwork do it.” 

“Clockwork?” Jason asked as he followed Danny. 

“The ancient of time, he keeps an eye out for me. He means well, even though he’s a cryptic asshole most of the time.” 

“Daniel!” A voice Jason didn’t recognize shouted, but he was guessing Danny did, and it was not a welcome visitor by the way he flinched and immediately looked up with glowing green eyes. “I knew if I kept the trackers on you you would leave that god forsaken mansion eventually.” An odd, almost vampiric looking man with red eyes said as he floated down towards them. 

Jason still didn’t recognize the man but he didn't think anyone who looked That sinister could be a good guy. From the way that he was floating and context clues Jason could guess that this was a ghost. God Damn it! He only had one of his normal guns on him, he had put down the blaster! With the stranger's attention on Danny Jason scrambled for his gun.

“Vlad, what part of ‘stay the hell away from me’ don’t you understand?” Danny snarled.

Shit Vlad? Vlad masters the baby daddy? Jason felt a snarl rip its way out of his own throat, the pit swirling furiously inside him making him want to kill something. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling though it didn’t happen as often these days. At least Vlad only seemed to have eyes for Danny, he probably didn’t register Jason as a threat, or even a person of interest. It was a little unflattering but it gave Jason an opening to go for the blaster in his bag.

“I thought you said you would never allow a billionaire to adopt you, clearly something has changed. Come with me Daniel, I understand you infinitely better than Bruce Wayne,” He spat the name with contempt. “I can take care of you and-” 

Jason got the gun and fired, his aim was true, the glowing green blast struck Vlad squarely in the stomach and he reared back with a pained yowl, red eyes snapping to Jason. He touched the wound in his stomach, dripping green blood, it wasn’t as deep as Jason would have liked and it was already healing fast, but Still, he’d done some damage and Vlad seemed furious. 

“You insolent brat!” He growled, holding out hands that were glowing with energy. Jason tensed to dodge but before he could Danny was in front of him, a shield of green energy in front of him. 

“ENOUGH!” Danny yelled, and changed form, shooting up into the sky he fired back at Vlad, rabidly throwing bolts of green energy at him. “I have had ENOUGH! You have drugged me, kidnapped me, threatened my friends, cloned me, and then killed the clones when they weren’t perfect.” Danny landed a hit, Vlad was unable to dodge or block so many in a row and he let out a grunt as Danny struck his chest, pushing him back a few feet. 

Vlad tried to duplicate himself to shield himself but Danny shot them as quickly as they were made, making them disappear in puffs of smoke and screams. Once they were gone he focused again on Vlad. His eyes were glowing even brighter with frustration and rage as he directed both hands at his attacker and shot an even more powerful blast, landing a hit on Vlad that sent him trembling back, clutching a bloody and swollen nose. 

“You are a pathetic, terrible, Lonely failure and you always will be! You will never get what you want! NEVER YOU HEAR ME?! YOu stay the hell away from me and my kids! MY kids! Or I will fucking kill you!” Danny swore, shooting at Vlad again, who barely managed a clumsy dodge. 

“Come now Daniel you don’t mean that,” Vlad said but for the first time he sounded nervous. Danny had never lost his temper like this before, they’d fought, but he’d never even sworn.

They were distracted again and Jason had a clear shot, Vlad was clearly tough if he took a shot to these shots running but he couldn’t be indestructible. He shot again, aiming for the head this time, unfortunately the green glow gave him away and Vlad dropped down to avoid it. Vlad shot back, and Jason threw himself out of the way and rolled back up to his feet, ready to dodge, or fire again. 

“No!” Danny shouted at Vlad, flying at him so fast he barely had time to throw up a shield of his own before Danny collided with him, forcing him back again. His hands pressed against the shield, glowing toxic green before the close range blast broke the shield and sent Vlad tumbling through the air. “I put up with you for the sake of my parents and my secret but now that doesn’t matter anymore I have no reason to go easy on you! I’m done! I’m done with you!” 

And then he screamed, that same earth shattering wail, and with Vlad already knocked off balance, bleeding green from his chest, his nose, and generally beaten to hell, he had no defense. The sound forced him down with more than the force than gravity, the sound and impact leveled trees in a near perfect circle and left a crater in the soft earth at the bank of the lake. And Danny just kept screaming, pushing Vlad deeper into the wet earth. Jason could see that Vlad was screaming too, probably from the pain, but he couldn’t hear anything over the feeling of Danny’s wail.

Jason wanted to clamp his own hands over his ears and block out the sound but he couldn’t, he needed to keep hold of his blaster, and remain ready. The water rushed in and covered Vlad quickly once Danny stopped screaming. Jason bolted towards the edge of the new cove for Vlad to emerge. 

He came up gasping and coughing, floundering before he grabbed the edge of the hole and dragged himself out. Jason was there to meet him with a gun to his head and a glowing green glare of his own. Jason wanted to shoot Vlad and kill him, but he didn’t want to do that in front of Danny. For all he had just said he would kill Vlad Jason didn’t think he really meant it. Danny wasn't a killer at heart.  

“Stay very still,” He said calmly once Vlad had finished hacking up all the water he’d breathed in. He kept one hand on the gun and his finger on the trigger as he pulled a com out of his pocket, sliding it into his ear and turning it on. “O? Are you there?”

“Hood? Report?” Bruce’s clipped ‘batman’ voice came through.

“Vlad crashed the party, Track our location, I have him pinned,” Jason said without taking his eyes off Vlad who was still breathing hard and bleeding, glaring up at him. 

“On our way,” Bruce said quickly. “ETA 18 minutes.” 

“Very well done Todd,” Vlad drawled dryly and Jason twitched, of course since he’d been to Galas Vlad would know who he was, but Jason still did Not like it. “But you might want to look out, I believe young Daniel is in need of rescue.”

Jason knew better, he really did, but he couldn’t help glancing up quickly, and he was glad he did. He was just in time to see Danny revert to his human form and fall. Jason barely managed not to drop the gun as he ran to catch Danny, taking the brunt of the impact and going to his knees to keep them both intact through the landing. 

“Danny?” He gasped, pushing the other man’s hair back from his face, his eyes were closed and he wasn’t responding to his name but he was breathing. Jason glanced over to see Vlad was already gone. “Shit. B, you still there?”

“Yes. What happened Jay?” He asked, sounding more worried, more like Bruce. 

“Danny passed out,” Jason said as he set the other man down, grabbing a light and checking his pupils. “Pupils are responsive but he’s not waking up even with the light shining in his face. Vlad escaped but he couldn’t have gotten far in that condition. Danny really gave him hell.” 

“We’ll be there soon,” Bruce said, clipped and determined. Jason could hear the motor in the background, if he was pushing the usually silent jet to the point it was making that sound he really would be there in minutes. 

Jason sat down and pulled Danny nearly into his lap, still holding the gun just in case. He thought Vlad had made a break for it but he didn’t want to let his guard down. After all he had thought Vlad would be smarter then to attack them today, he had clearly underestimated the man’s obsessiveness and stupidity. The last thing he needed now was for Vlad to try and make a break for it with Danny while he was so vulnerable. 

He was rocking just a little, he didn’t know if he was trying to sooth Danny or himself as he waited for Bruce and whichever of his siblings were tagging along to arrive. He thought that he was in shock judging by how vague he felt and the odd aura at the edges of his vision. It was always sort of funny having the vague knowledge that he Was in shock but not really being able to do anything about it.

He looked up when he heard the bat-plane overhead and watched it coming in for a water landing. Finally feeling safe enough to holster his gun, freeing both hands to scoop Danny into his arms, getting up with Danny still cradled close. It wasn’t like the other man was heavy, Jason stumbled just a little as he went over to meet his family as the ramp dropped and they came rushing out. 

“Any idea what’s wrong with him?” Batman asked gruffly, going straight to them pushing a medical gurney.

“I think he just overused his powers,” Jason said numbly, putting Danny down on the rolling bed and followed Bruce back into the plane and the same time Spoiler, Blackbat, and Red Robin took off into the woods, to search for Vlad no doubt. Jason hoped they found him but somehow he doubted they would, Vlad could turn invisible and intangible after all, and Danny hadn’t had time to build them everything they’d need. Even with a decent amount of confiscated Fenton tech Jason didn’t like their odds. 

“He has this sonic attack that's really strong but seems to take a lot out of him. He passed out pretty soon after using it the second time,” He explained, sitting down heavily next to the bed as Bruce fussed and checked Danny’s vitals. 

“His heartbeat is slow but strong, pupils responding, like you said, he isn’t visibly injured. I think you’re right he over used it. We’ll set up an IV just to give him some energy and hydration and hopefully he’ll wake up soon. He’ll be okay Jay,” Bruce said, pausing to rest a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “I’ll take you back to the manor, I’m sure the others will find Vlad.”

“They’ve all got their wards?” Jason asked distractedly and Bruce nodded as he buckled Danny and the gurney in securely so he wouldn’t roll around during transport. “Good, ya, let's go home. I’m sorry, taking him camping was stupid. It was helping but I should have known that with Vlad still out there-”

“No, we didn’t see this coming, it’s not your fault,” Bruce interrupted, before sitting back in the pilot's seat and taking off. 

Jason didn’t agree, but he didn’t argue either. No one had argued with him, he was sure they’d all thought, like he did, that with the entire justice league after him and the ‘woman of his dreams’ behind bars Vlad would have bigger things to worry about. They’d all underestimated just how obsessed with Danny Vlad was, in this family of obsessive assholes it was a particularly foolish mistake.

Next

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny is The Doctor (Dr Who)

So! I've been on a Dr Who High for a little while now, and I thought this idea up.

Danny, as the apprentice to Clockwork, has the ability to traverse Time, and his can use his own Powers to traverse Space.

(He is not at the same level of Time Manipulation as Clockwork, but he is still very good at it. Less of a Time Master, and more of a Time Lord if you will)

So, after his family dies and he is left alone for his Immortal Life, he gets bored. Taking a Cue from Ellie and her whole Exploration Obsession, while also indulging in his own Space Obsession, Danny decides to explore Space and Time to his heart's content. (Maybe Ellie is his Companion?)

He travels the Universe, visiting different planets, witnessing historical events, and sometimes even Helping wherever he can. He is still a Protector Spirit after all.

He doesn't use his powers much these days, in fact he has mostly locked them away in favor of using his own custom built Inventions to get any task done. He is the son of Mad Scientists after all, and he likes to Own It.

Danny becomes known across the Universe in the same way that the Doctor is. To some he is a Savior, a Healer, a Wiseman. To others he is a Demon, a Trickster, a Warrior.

Danny becomes the Boogeyman of the Universe, so it's no surprise that one day someone tries to contain him, to keep him Locked Up so he can never interfere with the Universe again. To do so, they build a Device named, The Pandorica.

(Yup, I'm using that little thing in this)

Danny is trapped within the Pandorica, mulling over the Irony of being trapped by a Device named after one of his friends, for Eons. He is completely and utterly trapped.

Sealed Away, waiting for the day when someone will set him free.

...

Now imagine this.

The JLA has just confiscated an extremely Old and Extremely Magical Box from an Alien Cult, who were proclaiming that they would use the Pandorica Warrior to fell their greatest foe.

They call in Constantine to explain what it is, and just imagine the Doctors description of the Pandorica Scene coming him him.

"This is the Pandorica, an Ancient Magical Prison designed to hold the worst of all bad guys." Started Constantine.

"Why was it made?" Asked Superman.

"There was a Goblin, or a Trickster. Or a Warrior." Constantine explained as he paced a circle around the Box in front of them, "A nameless, terrible thing. Soaked in the blood of a Billion Galaxies. The most feared being in all the cosmos."

He took a closer look at the box and Continued. "And nothing could stop it, or hold it, or reason with it. One day it would just drop out of the sky and tear down your world."

He paused and took a deep breath, "Or at least that's how the Story goes, probably why those cultists wanted it so bad. The greatest Warrior in existence on their side? It would be an instant win button."

"Is it possible to open it?" Asked Batman.

"Easily, anybody can break into a Prison. I just want to know what we'll find first."

Zatanna interrupted, "Won't need to wait long, it's already opening. Layers and Layers of Magical Barriers are dispersing as we speak. That Cult knew what they were doing, it's going to open soon. Very soon."

The Box in front of them shuddered a little, and they tensed. They waited for a few moments to see if it would do anything, but eventually they realized it was probably just a side effect of the barriers falling.

"How soon can we expect it to open?" Asked Batman, still tense.

Constantine replied this time, "From what I can tell, maybe 2 hours at most. So you have that much time to prepare to meet the Universes most feared Individual."

...

Just thought of this while I was binging Dr Who videos on Tiktok and thought, "this would be cool as a dpxdc idea"

Here is the Video that inspired me, give it a watch

[v1ctor1asecretangel]

My baby, My baby

kyle spencer x reader

song i recommend listening to: i bet on loosing dogs by mitski

warnings: EXTREME angst, very slow burn (im a slut for a back story), kyles past, manipulation, mentions of SA, objectification of men, arguing, fluff, happy ending, i think thats it!

word count: 6.5k

notes: this one is kind of heavy im so sorry guys:( theres not enough fics that give kyle the justice he deserves 😞 not even gonna lie i started bawling while proofreading this. also i would just wanna put out there that if you are struggling with ANYTHING my dms are always open to talk:)

It was just an average chilly night when you found it out.

The familiar sounds of your mother and father arguing once again filled the silence, voices bouncing down the empty hallways and ringing in your ears. For weeks now, the yelling and the clash of words had become as common as the ticking of the clock sitting on your shelf. It started with the usual pattern. Your father muttering something unnecessary, your mother shooting back, voice like glass ready to shatter. And then, like clockwork, things would escalate. A plate shattering, a door slamming, the sharp clinking of silverware as it Falls to the floor. Somewhere along the line, you’d learned to tune it out, even finding a strange comfort in it all.

But tonight was different.

A raw, intense throbbing in your head amplified the shouting in a way that pushed you over the edge. Something inside you snapped, like a thread pulled just a bit too tight. You threw your thick, silk duvet off in one swift motion, the cool air meeting your skin as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. Your bare feet sank into the plush carpet, the fibers soft as you steadied yourself and took a breath.

Without another thought, you crossed the room with swift steps, each one heavy with frustration. Reaching for the door, you grabbed the handle and flung it open, the force sending a slight echo through the hallway.

The sound of your feet slamming against each step echoes through the house as you storm down the stairs, your frustration at your parents boiling over in your chest. Every stomp is a silent scream. You’ve been holding back, but this time, they’ve pushed you past the point of reason.

As you reach the bottom, you stop, breathing heavily. The air is tense, almost vibrating. Your eyes fix on your parents in the kitchen. Your father, lips pressed thin, hands gripping the countertop, and your mother, her face unreadable but her body tense, holding herself with a dangerous stillness. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but before you can speak, your mother turns. In one swift motion, she reaches for the knife block and pulls out the biggest blade.

The metallic glint catches in the light, and your breath halts. The kitchen feels like it’s shrunk to the size of a shoebox, every noise amplified, every heartbeat throbbing in your ears. You watch, frozen, as she raises the knife, her arm cocked and ready to strike. Your father stumbles back, hands up defensively, panic widening his eyes.

Without thinking, you scream, the sound raw and desperate, shattering the air like glass.

And then. Silence.

A thick, heavy silence, as if the whole world is holding its breath. Your eyes stay fixed on your mother, but you feel something different. A strange, burning energy coursing through you, pulsing from your chest to the tips of your fingers, as if an invisible string connects you to her.

With a sudden violent burst, your mother’s body flies back, her limbs flailing as if she’s caught in a hurricane. She’s thrown against the wall with a bone-shaking crash, and the framed pictures around her rattle off their hooks, crashing to the floor and splintering into shards. The knife slips from her hand, skittering across the floor.

You’re panting, your own heart thundering, and for a moment, the world spins, feeling somehow both right and wrong, as if you’ve crossed an invisible line.

Your father stares at you, his face drained of color. His mouth opens slightly, but no words come out, only an expression of sheer terror. Without another glance, he bolts for the front door, slamming it behind him , leaving you and your mother alone in the wreckage.

You turn to her, her eyes wide and wild as she slowly lifts herself from the floor, her breath ragged. She seems smaller somehow, her gaze darting between you and the chaos in the room. She finally looks at you directly, eyes brimming with fear, and in a trembling, barely audible whisper, she says, “You’re…one of them.”

The words echo in your mind, heavy and unfamiliar. One of them? You feel the weight of her accusation, the horror in her voice, and yet, beneath it all, a strange sense of power fills you. A darkness, a part of you that’s been waiting in silence for this very moment.

That’s how you find yourself standing before the tall white mansion, Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies. The building stands before you, grand and stoic, its intricate columns rising up to the ceiling high before you. You glance up, taking in the massive structure. a place that feels like something out of a dream. Or maybe a nightmare. The sheer size of it makes you feel small, and yet, the air around it seems charged, humming with an energy that you can’t quite place.

The events that led you here flash before your eyes in quick memories. The look of terror on your mother’s face after you threw her back against the wall, her whispered words about being “one of them,” and the silence as she drove you away from the only home you’d ever known. Her voice, low and hesitant, echoed in your mind as she explained that your family had a history with witches and unbeknownst to you, magic coursed through your blood, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.

“Blessed.” she said, but the word tasted sour. Blessed. That’s how she’d framed it, though her face had twisted with fear as she said it, as if she could barely look at you, barely stomach the person her daughter had become.

You’d rolled your eyes at her, that one last act of defiance as she’d tried to make sense of what had happened, desperately clinging to the idea that this was some sort of gift. A gift. The idea was almost laughable. If being able to throw your mother across a room was a blessing, it felt more like a curse. But now, staring up at the mansion, all of that seems to drift away, replaced by a strange, thrill.

Taking a deep breath, you clutch your purse tightly, the leather cool and smooth against your palm. You begin to walk up the stairs, each step echoing through the morning air. Your heels click rhythmically against the hard concrete, the sound bouncing off the towering Greek pillars that flank either side of you. You feel their presence, cold and impassive, as if they’re watching, judging.

The further you ascend, the more the air seems to thicken, charged with a strange energy that sends a shiver down your spine. Each step brings you closer to a new world, a world that feels like it’s already reaching out to pull you in, whether you’re ready or not. With one final click of your heel on the top step, you stand before the doors, the shadows cast by the pillars now stretching long and deep around you. You pause, feeling the weight of what lies beyond.

You straighten, squaring your shoulders, your grip tightening on your purse as you prepare to enter this place. A place that promises answers and, perhaps, even more questions.

You raise your hand, hesitating for a second as your knuckles hover over the door’s dark wood, a mixture of dread and anticipation twisting in your stomach. But you gather yourself, take a deep breath, and knock sharply on the door. The sound echoes hollowly through the heavy wood.

For a few seconds, there’s nothing but silence. You feel your pulse quicken as you wait, each second stretching on, amplifying the strange energy that’s lingered around you since you first set eyes on the mansion. Then, faint footsteps approach, growing louder, until finally, the door creaks open with a low, drawn-out groan that sounds almost otherworldly.

Standing before you is a woman, elegant and composed, with hair as golden as sunlight and eyes so deep a shade of brown that they’re nearly black, with a glint in them that’s both welcoming and mysterious. She stands tall, her posture regal yet effortless, wearing a fitted black dress with an intricate lace collar that radiates of old-world elegance. Her gaze meets yours, and for a split second, you feel as if she’s peering not just at you, but into you, as if she’s seen something hidden beneath the surface that even you haven’t fully recognized.

Then, she smiles, warm but with an edge of something unreadable, something secret. “Hello,” she says, her voice low and rich, “You must be Y/N.”

The way she says your name feels oddly intimate, as though she’s known it long before you arrived, as though the house itself whispered it to her. You feel a faint shiver ripple down your spine.

“Welcome,” she continues, her smile widening slightly as she steps aside, gesturing with a graceful hand for you to enter. There’s an invitation in her eyes, a silent, unspoken question, as if she’s asking if you’re truly ready for what lies within these walls.

With one last steadying breath, you cross the threshold. The air inside feels different, heavier somehow, steeped in a strange, stillness that makes you feel both protected and slightly trapped. You take in your surroundings, the grand foyer that stretches before you with polished marble floors gleaming beneath a glittering crystal chandelier. The chandelier casts fragmented light across the room, the crystals catching beams of sunlight from the windows and scattering them in delicate patterns across the walls and floor.

The scent of polished wood, and something faintly floral lingers in the air. It’s almost intoxicating, pulling you deeper into the place. You feel like you’ve stepped into another world. A world filled with secrets, shadows, and, somewhere beneath it all, an energy that hums with life, with power. The headmistress closes the door behind you with a quiet click that sounds like the sealing of a pact. Final and irreversible.

“I’m Cordelia,” she introduces herself, her voice steady and clear as she walks ahead, gesturing for you to follow. You can feel her watching you out of the corner of her eye, studying your every reaction, every flicker of emotion. There’s a subtle power to her movements, an authority that makes it clear she’s not merely the headmistress here. She’s the keeper of the academy’s secrets, the protector of its legacy.

As you follow her, each step echoing through the silent hallways, your heart beats a little faster. The mansion seems to stretch endlessly before you, filled with doors that are closed tight and shadows that cling to the corners. You wonder how many secrets these walls have witnessed, how many others have walked these halls with their own stories, their own fears.

Cordelia leads you deeper into the academy, her voice a steady presence as she tells you about Miss Robichaux's history, about the students who have come before you, and the purpose of the coven. But beneath her words, you sense an unspoken warning, a weight behind her voice as if she’s cautioning you. This world you’ve entered, it is not one to tread lightly.

You turn to your right, the polished marble floor beneath your heels as you step toward an open doorway. Through it, you catch a glimpse of what appears to be an dining room. The room is bathed in soft, natural light streaming through towering windows, casting a glow over the polished, table, long and grand, stretching nearly the length of the room.

At the far end, you notice a figure with platinum blonde hair, sitting with her back turned to you. Even without seeing her face, you feel a flicker of recognition. There’s an aura around her something powerful and dark. You’re not sure if it’s an instinct or an unease growing in the pit of your stomach, but it grips you, pulling your attention to her as if by force.

Then, abruptly, a searing pain spikes in your temples. You wince, clutching your head as a blinding flash fills your vision. In an instant, you’re pulled into a rush of images. Memories that are not your own, tumbling through your mind like a storm. You feel yourself slip, like falling into a chasm, as the world around you fades away.

Suddenly, you’re somewhere else.

The air is thick and you find yourself watching a girl. Her, Madison Montgomery, and she’s screaming. The scene shifts with a terrifying clarity, the details vivid and overwhelming. You see Madison, younger, her face twisted in horror and rage, as flames erupt around her. There’s a flash of red carpet, crushed beneath her feet as she stumbles back, staring at her hands, realizing what she’s done. The fire she’s conjured licks up the walls, and her eyes are wide, reflecting the flames that seem to both captivate and terrify her.

Another memory pulls you in, like you’re tumbling helplessly through her life. You see her standing in front of an audience, lights beaming down on her, cameras flashing. Fame surrounds her, yet there’s emptiness in her eyes. The applause seems to fade, the crowd a blur of faceless figures. She’s alone, trapped in a world that once promised her everything and now feels hollow. The lights dim and the applause fades, and a darkness consumes her.

Then, another sharp shift. You find yourself in a dark room with dim, flickering candles casting eerie shadows on the walls. Madison’s face is contorted in a strange focus, her hands trembling over a mangled body on a table. A young man, Kyle Spencer. His broken, lifeless form lies beneath her hands, stitched together, his face pale and still. You can feel her desperation, a fierce determination mingled with guilt and something close to madness as she tries to force him back to life. A chant of a spell echoes in the room. She’s chanting, her voice loud and confident, but laced with fear and hope, until finally, Kyle’s chest rises with a shuddering gasp. But the moment isn’t joyous. It’s dark and twisted, a resurrection not for his sake, but for hers. Pain and control.

The images blur, but you see glimpses. Madison’s hand clenched around Kyle’s wrist as if to anchor him, her mocking words, the way she manipulates and taunts him, asserting her dominance over him, reminding him of his dependence. Her eyes are cold, her smile cruel, and a sick feeling settles in your stomach as the vision fades, lingering in your mind with the weight of something real and terrible.

You snap back to reality with a sharp gasp, stumbling slightly as the dining room floods back into focus. You blink rapidly, your vision still swimming, disoriented by the vivid intensity of what you just saw. The blonde figure before you shifts, and Madison turns, her gaze settling on you with a piercing, almost predatory look.

Her lips curl into a smirk, her eyes raking over you in a way that feels both dismissive and mocking. “Well, well,” she drawls, crossing her arms as she leans against the table, clearly amused by your disorientation. “Look who’s already having visions. Must be so special,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Her head tilts slightly, eyes narrowed as she assesses you with that haughty, almost venomous look. “Hope you enjoyed the show,” she says with a smug grin. “Though it’s a little rude to peek into people’s private moments. But, hey, you’ll learn manners eventually… or not.” She waves a dismissive hand, as if the whole thing is beneath her, yet her eyes glint with something sharper, a challenge or even a warning.

You’re still reeling, the images of her life blurring and pulsing in your mind. The way she toyed with Kyle, her cruelty and need for control, make your stomach churn. But Madison only grins wider, taking in your reaction with a look of smug satisfaction. “You’re gonna have so much fun here.” she purrs, her voice laced with a mocking sweetness.

And with a dramatic flip of her hair, she brushes past you, leaving a trail of cold disdain in her wake, and you’re left standing there, still shaken, feeling like you’ve glimpsed something you were never meant to see.

The next few days at Miss Robichaux's Academy have been a blend of fascination and unease. Adjusting has come easier than expected, with Cordelia and the other witches offering support knowing what you’re going through. You’ve met Zoe, Queenie, and Nan. Each of them are unique, with stories of their own, kind in ways that contrast against Madison’s cold, snotty attitude. Cordelia had explained that witches like you are becoming rare, power that can vanish in a generation without new blood.

But in the days that followed, your mind kept returning to him. The boy from your vision. Kyle. Despite never having seen him around the mansion, you could feel his presence, an unmistakable energy that screamed in the quiet corridors. It was as though he was always just out of sight, a shadow in your periphery, drawing you closer.

And then, one night, it happens.

You walk down the darkened hallways, the silence thick and heavy as a blanket around you. The dim glow of antique lights casts shadows that dance across the polished floors. Your pajama pants brush softly against your ankles, and your loose tank top, slipping off one shoulder, sways with each step. You round a corner when you hear muffled voices coming from a partially open door at the end of the hall.

“Kyle, come on… you know you want to,” Madison’s voice coos, her tone slick with manipulation.

You stop, heart pounding, her voice igniting a strange anger within you. The desperation in her tone, laced with a mocking condescension, is unmistakable.

Then, a softer voice replies, wavering, vulnerable. “No… just want to lay.”

Your pulse spikes with pure rage. You can feel the raw vulnerability in his voice, the hurt hidden beneath it, and without thinking, you stride toward the door and shove it open, letting it slam against the wall with a sharp slam. The sound echoes down the hall as you step into the room.

Kyle is standing there, and for a fleeting moment, your gaze locks with his. His blonde hair falls messily over his face, and his eyes are lost, haunted. Almost like he’s caught in a place he can’t escape. And then, before you can fully register the moment, the world blurs, a wave of energy washing over you, and you’re pulled into another vision.

It starts with a flash of warmth, light hearted laughter filling the air, and the scent of a beach. You’re suddenly witnessing fragments of Kyle’s life, moments of innocence and freedom. There he is, laughing with friends, his arm slung around his friends shoulders, carefree and bright. You feel his joy, the warmth of his spirit, the love he holds for his friends. The happiness and tenderness are so real that your heart aches with the beauty of it.

But then the vision shifts violently, twisting into something dark. You see a glimpse of the accident. The crash. Kyle’s face, pale and filled with terror as metal twists and glass shatters. Then, everything fades to black, and you’re thrust into a world of agonizing silence. When light returns, it’s cold and sterile, the beeping of machines and the murmur of voices mixing with a sickening. Energy. Madison’s voice echoes somewhere nearby, and you’re forced to watch as she brings him back. A mangled body, stitched together in a desperate, twisted act of resurrection. The confusion and pain in his eyes as he awakens, no longer whole, haunt you deeply. You feel his fractured mind, his broken spirit, bound to her. Trapped, a puppet brought back against his will.

You gasp, the vision dissipating as reality floods back. The intensity of Kyle’s memories leaves you unsteady, the pain and horror clinging to you like a shadow. Your heart is racing, breaths shallow as you try to shake off the raw ache his past has imprinted upon you.

Madison is there, watching you with a smirk, her arms crossed as she leans back with a mocking grin. “A little dramatic, don’t you think?” she sneers, raising an eyebrow as if the whole thing were some sort of twisted game. “Enjoy the show?” She tilts her head, a sly smile curling on her lips. "Kyle’s mine, you know. You don’t get to swoop in and play savior just because you had a little vision.”

Ignoring her, you turn your gaze to Kyle. His eyes meet yours, and in them, you see the desperation, the fear, the fragments of a person he used to be. He’s trembling, caught in the haze of what’s left of his mind. Trapped between the past and this present that he never chose.

Without thinking, you open your arms to him, and something in his broken gaze shifts. He stumbles forward, instinctively, his body drawn to the comfort you offer. The moment he’s within reach, he collapses into your embrace, and you wrap your arms around him, holding him tightly. He clings to you as if you’re a lifeline, his shoulders trembling as he buries his face against you. You can feel the tension in him easing, his erratic breathing slowing as he finally allows himself to feel safe.

Madison scoffs, rolling her eyes. “How touching,” she says, her voice laced with sarcasm, but you don’t even look at her. Your focus is entirely on Kyle, the broken boy now nestled in your arms, finding peace in your presence, perhaps for the first time since his resurrection.

As Kyle clings to you, his trembling form pressed against yours, another wave of energy pulses through you. It starts subtly, like a storm gathering within, and before you can stop it, another vision consumes you, pulling you deeper into Kyle’s fractured memories.

You’re standing in a small, dimly lit living room, worn and filled with the faint scent of stale cigarettes and bitterness of regret. There’s a woman Kyle’s mother, sitting on an old couch, her face pale and drawn, her gaze empty yet intense as she stares into the distance. Her features are gaunt, tired, but beneath the weariness is a sharpness, a bitterness that lingers in her eyes. She’s alone, her glassy stare betraying a lifetime of disappointment. You can almost feel the sorrow that hangs heavy in the air.

Then you see Kyle enter, younger, vibrant, his innocent smile lighting up the room despite the dark atmosphere. He glances at her with a look of hope, like a son yearning for approval, a glimpse of the mother he remembers from before. But her gaze drifts past him, unfocused, as though she’s looking right through him, her expression indifferent.

Suddenly, the vision shifts, blurring into darker moments, fragmented yet clear. You see Kyle in that same room, older now, his face worn with a new kind of sorrow as his mother’s hand trails over his shoulder, her touch possessive, her gaze twisted with a strange, warped affection. You feel his discomfort, his shame, the confusion that cloud his mind as he tries to pull away, his mother’s grip tightening, her twisted need for any semblance of maternal love.

In a desperate attempt to escape, Kyle withdraws into himself, retreating to a place in his mind that shields him from the reality around him. You feel his heartbreak, his sense of betrayal by the one person he should have been able to trust. The love he held for her is forced down, locked away as he learns to numb himself, his spirit fragmenting bit by bit with each encounter.

The vision shifts again, flashing back to the day he left for college, eager for freedom, for the chance to live a life on his own terms. You feel his hope, his relief as he steps away from that house, from her, determined to start fresh. But even then, a part of him carries the scars, the weight of her twisted hold over him. Darkness he can’t quite escape.

The vision ends abruptly, leaving you breathless and shaken, the horror of Kyle’s past etched vividly in your mind. You blink, reeling from the raw emotions that still linger, struggling to ground yourself as you return to the present.

Kyle’s grip on you tightens, his fingers clutching your shoulders as if sensing your understanding. He looks up, his eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability that shatters you. There’s an unspoken plea in his gaze, a yearning to be seen, to be understood. His face is etched with pain, haunted by the memories that linger in both of you now. You reach out, gently cupping his face, your thumb brushing softly against his cheek, grounding him, letting him know he’s safe.

Madison stands nearby, her smirk faltering as she takes in the scene, her cruel facade wavering. But you don’t spare her a glance. You’re focused entirely on Kyle, your heart breaking for the boy who’s suffered so much, who’s been broken and betrayed by those who should have protected him.

“Hey.” you whisper softly, your voice a quiet promise. “You’re not alone, Kyle. Not anymore.”

He sinks further into your embrace, and for the first time, you feel him relax. A fragile sense of peace settling over him as he clings to the one person who’s finally offered him the compassion he’s longed for.

You pull back slightly from Kyle, feeling the warmth of his hold reluctantly loosen as you meet his eyes. There's a quiet plea in them, a vulnerability he rarely shows anyone, and you gently brush a strand of his hair back, offering him a small nod of reassurance.

“I’ll be back, Kyle,” you say softly, your voice steady despite the fury burning within you.

With one last reassuring look, you stand, directing your attention to Madison. She watches with a raised eyebrow, her mouth twisted in a smirk that only fuels the fire inside you. Her arms are crossed, as if nothing she’s done could possibly be considered wrong.

You take a deep breath, then step forward, your voice low and edged with a cold fury. “Madison… What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She raises her brows in mock surprise and fake innocence. "Oh, calm down,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes as she tilts her head to the side. "I was just… entertaining him.” She shrugs nonchalantly, her voice dripping with a fake sweetness that makes your stomach turn. "Not my fault he can’t take a little fun.”

You feel your fists clench involuntarily, your nails digging into your palms as you try to control the anger coursing through you. “Entertaining?” you repeat, your voice shaking as you take a step closer. “Is that what you call it? Tormenting someone who’s already been through hell, treating him like he’s your puppet?”

Madison rolls her eyes, her mouth twisting into a smirk. “Look, he wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me. I brought him back, remember? That’s more than anyone else has ever done for him. Maybe he should be a little more… grateful.” Her words are sharp, laced with that biting sarcasm she wears like armor.

Kyle shifts uncomfortably on the floor, his eyes downcast, clearly torn by the twisted logic in her words. Seeing him struggle makes your anger flare hotter. You step protectively in front of him, blocking Madison’s view of him entirely. “Grateful? Grateful?” You scoff, a bitter laugh escaping as you shake your head. “Grateful for being dragged back into a nightmare he didn’t ask for? For being manipulated and humiliated by you?”

Madison’s eyes narrow, and for the first time, you see a flicker of anger in her expression. “You don’t get it, do you?” she snaps, her voice growing colder. “This world isn’t made for people who play nice. I know what I want, and I take it. That’s what it means to have power.”

“Power?” you spit back, your voice sharp as steel. “Power doesn’t mean breaking people down just because you can. Real power is knowing when to stop. When to help rather than harm.”

Madison’s jaw tightens, her smile gone, replaced by a thin line of resentment. She scoffs, crossing her arms more tightly across her chest, her stance rigid and defensive. “Please,” she says, her voice biting. “You think playing the savior makes you any different? You’ll get tired of it. You’ll realize that people only want you when you’re useful to them. Like him.” She gestures dismissively to Kyle without even looking at him.

“That’s enough,” you say, voice rising as your anger breaks through. You’re inches from her now, your gaze locked in an intense stare-down. ���Kyle’s not some possession for you to toy with. He’s a person, and he deserves better than this… better than you.”

Madison stares back, her lips pressed into a thin, furious line. She looks at you with a mixture of despise and something that almost resembles vulnerability, but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. “Fine,” she says sharply, taking a step back. “If you want to play caretaker, be my guest. But don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not worth the trouble.” She shoots Kyle one last look, her eyes cold as ice.

Without waiting for a response, she turns on her heel and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her. The sound echoes through the walls, the silence that follows thick and tense, lingering in the space she left behind.

You stand there, breathing heavily, letting the anger slowly drift away as the reality of what just happened settles in. Turning back, you see Kyle sitting there, his face a mixture of confusion, relief, and a hint of awe, as if he can hardly believe someone stood up for him.

Softening, you lower yourself back down beside him, reaching out to take his hand gently in yours. “It’s okay,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. “She’s gone. I’m here now… and I’m not going anywhere.”

The next morning, sunlight streams softly through the curtains, and as your eyes flutter open. You find yourself still propped against the wall. Kyle is asleep in your lap, his head heavy and his breathing slow and uneven. His face is turned slightly toward you, his features softened by sleep but still carrying the marks of his trauma. Creases of worry, faint bruises that never seem to fully fade, exhaustion that rests permanently under his eyes. He looks so worn and fragile, more like a lost child than the broken soul of a man sitting with you now.

Gently, you trace the outline of his cheekbone, noticing every detail of his face. His muscles twitch slightly under your touch, and his brow furrows as if even in sleep, he’s struggling. But he doesn’t wake, and you let yourself take in this quiet moment, heart aching for what he’s endured. You can almost feel the scars his past has left on him. He’s been hurt so much, lost so much of himself. But there’s a resilience in him. Flickers of hope beneath the pain that keeps him moving forward.

As the morning stretches into day, you stay close to him, sharing quiet moments and small reassurances. Even though words are often lost between you, there’s a silent understanding growing. Comfort that comes just from being together. Every so often, he looks at you with that same hesitant expression, as though he’s not quite sure if he deserves this.

By evening, you find yourselves in the garden. The air is filled with the sweet scent of flowers, and the dimming sunlight casts long shadows across the cobblestone paths. You sit on a weathered stone bench, surrounded by vibrant roses and tall hedges that offer some privacy. Kyle sits beside you, stiff and tense, his hands loosely clasped in his lap as he stares at the ground, as though he’s reluctant to look up.

He seems more restless tonight, his hands occasionally twitching, his gaze flickering to the flowers and back down. Finally, he attempts to speak, his voice low and halting. “I… feel… wro..ng.” His words are slow, each one seemingly pulled out with effort. “Like... b-broken pieces… that don’t fit.”

Your heart tightens as you hear the struggle in his voice, the way he’s trying to put together the broken pieces of himself to explain what he feels. He’s more hesitant than usual tonight, his voice disjointed, eyes darting around as though he’s worried the darkness within him.

His gaze drops, and you see the pain there, the deep confusion and shame as he mumbles, almost to himself, “I’m not… enough. N-not… me.”

You take his hand, feeling the tension in his fingers, the roughness of his knuckles. “Kyle,” you say softly, leaning closer so he can hear you clearly. “You’re here, and that means so much. You’re stronger than all the things that have happened to you. You’re not broken.”

He blinks at you, confusion and a spark of hope flickering across his face. “I… try,” he murmurs, his voice catching, as if he’s not sure if trying will ever be enough. He lifts his hand to his face, running a hand over the lines of his face, his eyes dark with the memories of the things done to him. The things that have fractured him.

“You’re not alone, Kyle,” you say firmly, squeezing his hand. “And I’ll stay by your side. You don’t have to go through this by yourself.”

He nods, slowly, his eyes fixed on yours with an almost childlike vulnerability, and he lets out a breath he’s been holding in. His hand, slightly trembling, reaches out, brushing against your arm. For a moment, he just looks at you, his face softening, some of the tension easing as he absorbs the comfort you offer.

“Thank……you,” he murmurs, his voice so quiet you almost miss it. It’s rough and broken, but there’s something genuine in it, something that feels fragile. He leans into you slightly, his head resting against your shoulder, and you feel his body begin to relax, the weight of his tension slowly fading.

In the evening air, surrounded by the sweet fragrance of the garden, you sit together in silence. The stars slowly emerge in the sky above, casting a faint light over the garden, and for the first time, Kyle seems to let go, trusting that he’s safe here with you.

A couple of months had passed since the night Kyle finally opened up to you in the garden, and everything felt like it had shifted. The dark moments that had once defined his life began to fade, replaced by something softer, something that held warmth and hope. You’d spent every day by his side, helping him with patience and kindness as he took small steps toward healing. And now, looking back on those early days, you were amazed at how far he’d come.

The academy felt lighter, like a home. The other witches had become like a family to you, each one adding their own kind of magic (literally) to your life. Even Cordelia seemed to gleam with pride whenever she saw Kyle opening up or laughing with the rest of you. Madison, of course, still sneered and offered her sarcastic remarks, but her bitterness was easy to ignore now. Her words had lost their sting. In every way things were better than you could have ever hoped.

One afternoon, you found yourself out in the garden again, Kyle’s favorite spot in the academy. The sun was setting, casting a golden haze over the flowers and filling the air with the scent of roses and freshly turned earth. You were both kneeling side by side, hands deep in the soil as you planted a new bed of wildflowers. Kyle had grown fond of gardening. There was something about the calmness of it, the gentle, nurturing process that seemed to bring him peace.

As you finished placing the last flower into the soil, Kyle turned to you, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. There was still something a little unsteady in his gaze, but his eyes held warmth. There was spark that hadn’t been there before.

“You… helped m-me…. find this,” he said, his voice more sure now, each word steadier than they used to be. “This peace.”

You smiled back, brushing a smudge of dirt from his cheek. “You’ve done most of it yourself, you know. You’re stronger than you think, Kyle.”

He looked down, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he fumbled with the edge of a leaf, as though gathering his courage. “But… you didn’t leave. I don’t think… I could’ve found it without you.” His words came slower, but clearer, each one laced with genuine emotion. “You make me feel… real. Like I’m more than… what I was before.”

A pang of tenderness shot through you, and without thinking, you reached over and took his hand, squeezing it gently. “You are, Kyle. You’re so much more than that. And I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to memorize every feature, every tiny expression. His hand tightened around yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin. It was such a small, innocent gesture, but you felt his gratitude, his trust, and something deeper in that simple touch.

He took a shaky breath, his smile widening. “I… don’t think I need… anything more than… this. Just… you.” His voice was quiet, like he was sharing asecret, his eyes soft and full of the warmth you’d come to recognize as love.

A gentle, happy laugh bubbled out of you, and in one swift, bold movement, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him. For a second, Kyle tensed, his breath catching in surprise, but then he melted into your embrace, wrapping his arms around you in return. His head rested on your shoulder, and you could feel him relax, his entire being just sinking into the hug as if it was a safe haven he’d been searching for his whole life.

“You’re home, Kyle,” you whispered softly, running a hand through his hair. “You’re home, and you’re safe.”

He nodded against your shoulder, his voice muffled but full of warmth. “Yeah… I think I.. am.”

You held each other in the golden glow of the setting sun, surrounded by the blooming flowers and the gentle rustling of leaves, the world felt perfect. It was quiet and peaceful, with nothing but the steady rhythm of Kyle’s breathing against you. In that moment, you both knew that this was exactly where you belonged.

Kyle pulled back, meeting your gaze with a look that was so full of gratitude and tenderness that it made your heart ache. His smile was real, wide, and hopeful, and he reached for your hand again, his fingers intertwining with yours as if he never wanted to let go.

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: More stuff to know about Constantine

Just some facts about John Constantine that I don’t see come up in this crossover that I think people could have a lot of fun with. He’s more than just useful for consulting, though he does see himself as a detective, just one specialized in supernatural cases.

-Canonically bisexual: that’s right, canonically bisexual, and a lot of his exes have tried to kill him

-Has demon blood in his veins: this is a fun one because demon blood has ceraint properties in the Hellblazer universe. Chiefly, accelerated healing. John is shown to recover from non-fatal wounds relatively quickly. It’s even been used as a defense mechanism against the King of Vampires. It is also shown to slow down the aging process. John is actually a lot older than he looks

-Ages in real time: Okay, don’t know how this could be used in a fic but it’s fun. He has aged in real time since his first appearance and last mention of his age put him at 60. Currently he’d be turning 70 this year, so that demon blood really keeps him spry

-synchronicity wave traveling: this is his instinctual ability to manipulate coincidences. Aka, he manipulates luck. This means he can’t lose at gambling unless he wants to, and as long as he’s using this ability, he’s pretty much invincible for the duration, because he manages to avoid getting hit by bullets, and spells, as well as jinxing the people trying to hurt him. He’s not only a lucky bastard, but a magically lucky bastard. This ability even worked on the first of the fallen, aka Satan. It is OP while he’s using it.

-The Laughing Magician: He has the title of the laughing magician. There have been multiple over the ages but John is the current one. They are known for their tendency for rebuking and outsmarting Gods, Demons, Spirits and just about everything else. Some even managed to destroy or use Gods for their own purposes. Soley members of Constatine’s bloodline can achieve this title and it’s what gives him the ability to use the synchronicity wave. It also gives him resistance to literal omniscience, aka beings that know everything don’t know what he’s going to do. An argument could be made that this would work to some extent on clockwork. He is literally one of the most powerful mages in the world.

-Possession resistance: He’s resistant to many psychic attacks such as telepathy, soul and body possession, and powerful mind controls. This one has some pretty obvious uses in this crossover.

So, yeah.  Constantine has more going on than just consulting about things. He’s extremely powerful, extremely lucky, though that luck doesn’t extend to other around him, a bit of a weirdness magnet that can surprise beings that know everything. He has access to a bunch of magical artifacts, and is exactly the kind of guy who can and would come out winning against the Ghost King. Not even against Danny, he could do it against Paria Dark.

So yeah, have fun with this information

[ectospacecadet]

So what if Danny was meant to fall into the Ghost Portal and wind up on the other side? He was inside the portal after all, aren’t you meant to go in one way and out the other?

What if the reason why that course of action didn’t happen was because someone gave him a gentle nudge back out?

What if this person was Clockwork?

[mitskicain]

navi | m.list

. ⁺ . ✦ the doghouse — ken sato x reader

© mitskicain all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

synopsis: kenji comes back for a jacket that he left—you linger by the door uncomfortably

content warning: implied manipulation, hurt/no comfort, angst, cursing and profanity

word count: 972 words

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006: tucked tail

How do you explain to your dogs that the guy who comes over and gives them treats every now and then isn’t coming back? You sigh and watch helplessly as Lassie and Strauber both wait by the door, whimpering, awaiting his arrival. Pressing the bridge of your nose, frustrated, you try once again to coax them away from the entrance, pulling on the bandana wrapped around their necks.

“Girls, it’s no use,” you beckon, “he’s not coming back.”

When all of the sudden, a shuffling, and the click and turn of the lock. The door opens—and Ken peeks his head inside. You frown, crossing your arms, suddenly defensive. The dogs’ tails wag at the sight of him, sitting patiently awaiting their treats. Like clockwork. 8.15 PM, Wednesday.

“I came for my stuff,” he says, allowing himself inside, handing you a plastic bag; it’s filled with dog treats. “Seemed like a waste if I just kept them in the house.”

You let them into the backyard, closing the door behind them, and watch as Ken makes his way into your bedroom, crouching by your bed and reaching underneath it to retrieve his blue leather jacket, adorned with patches of racing teams and whatnot. You remember taking in each and every embroidered design, trying to memorize it. You told him blue was his color. He laughed and said he hoped it was. It used to be my jersey’s color, he said.

Shame. What a shame.

He walks up to you and hands you a set of keys, the ones you had given him so that he could come by whenever he wanted. You should’ve known better when he only comes over whenever it was convenient for him. When he only comes over at night, sneaks out early in the morning to avoid the early rush and your neighbors. You enclose them in your palm and look up at him, he’s still wearing the same pained expression from a few nights ago—dark circles clung to the bottom of his eyes, alluding to sleepless nights spent tossing and turning. Good, you hope he drowned in that guilt, serves you right.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you scowl.

“Like what?”

“Like it’s my fault,” you say. “Don’t tell me you’re the victim in this. Don’t you dare.”

His face twists into an expression of offense; eyebrows furrowed and lips puckered. God his lips. Even in the light, a part of you wanted to reach out and forgive him, but something in your chest, thrumming and red, held you back from doing so. You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to put on a look of defiance–signal you were brave, that you were angry, that you were going to stand your ground.

“Why do you always assume the worst out of people?” Ken asks, voice unexpectedly soft, “why are you assuming the worst out of me? You think I wanted this?”

You smack your lips together, both in surprise and annoyance. “I think you saw it coming and forgot to give me a heads up.”

“I didn’t forget,” he declares, chest puffing out and cheeks red, frustrated, “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this.”

“What good does hoping do Ken? Just face it, you knew we were doomed from the start and you lead me on because you knew you had nothing to lose,” you stepped forward, feeling a surge of confidence and boldness rise in you, “you used me. And you hurt me. And now you’re going to walk away and pretend that nothing’s happened because that’s what you do, isn’t it?”

“Don’t paint me like that,” he says, a glint of anger in his eyes. “Don’t paint me to be the villain because it suits your narrative.”

You gasp in mock surprise. “Painting you to be the villain? I’m just recounting the details of what happened Ken.”

“No,” he inches forward, fists balled up by his sides, “you’re spinning your own narrative to absolve you of your own guilt. It’s what you do isn’t it? You’re a writer after all.”

Fuck, the truth—and the audacity.

“And after this, you’ll type out some story about us and use it for your next bestseller,” he runs his fingers through his hair, closing in on you, “I get it now. I used to wonder why you were always telling me what to do, what not to do—don’t look at me like that, don’t say that—it’s because you like control. You don’t like me for me, you only like me for what I can be for you.”

“Don’t act like I forced you,” you snap, “you were the one begging, on your knees. You asked for me to treat you like that.”

“I did it because that’s the only part of me you would accept,” he says, and your heart squeezes a bit at this. “You only wanted me if I let you be in control.”

Both of you stand in front of each other, hands at your sides, almost in surrender. There is a look of hurt in Ken’s face—the same one plastered on your face that night, and on your face—the look of guilt plastered on his. The two of you were standing where the other was. Kenji near your vanity, you by the door. Maybe this was symbolic, the both of you, hurting each other—both lingering by the door uncomfortably. Now all that remained was the heaviness in your chest and the silence in the air. Ken walks past you, towards the door—you don’t stop him.

“That’s the thing I realized about you,” he says, hand on the handle, “you don’t want to be loved, you just want to be obeyed.”

You look at him. He looks at you too. The same look of realization. The same look of pain.

“That’s why you have dogs.”

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author’s note: would you guys believe me if I told you guys that kenji’s last statement was actually the inspiration for the entire story; the first time I had read it I knew I wanted to create something out of it and I guess this was it 🤭🤭 anyways sorry for the false alarm guys I thought that we needed one more chapter before we moved onto the epilogue and closed the story for good 🫣🫣 honestly, writing the argument and all was easy, I’ve gotten it down in like 20 mins? The vivid flashbacks was what drew it out a little bit HAHAHAH 😭😭😭 either way I hope you guys enjoyed this one; I’ll see you guys in the epilogue🫵‼️‼️💥💥💥

taglist: @luneariaa @moonjellyfishie @sweetcheeksbby-deactivated20240 @shittingonyourgrave @shauu @witcwitchy @fcklxnaa @despacito-uwu16 @mqshido @miffysoo @ybbayk @hore4ken @mochminnie @femmefqtqle @miratastic @lovingyeet @mythicalmo @yourfellowmarzipan @softdumplingposts @strayy-kidz @floppy-aura-koi

[koiiiji]

Pls feed starving wootwoot fics pls 🥹😭😭😭🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

soft and charming

tw ; cheating, manipulation, Eugene being obsessive

summary ; Eugene considered himself as a smart guy. definitely higher then just above average. but what he never understood is women and their logical decisions. how in the hell girl like you could ever choose an absolute garbage person like your current boyfriend? Eugene could never justify this decision.

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Eugene had always considered himself a smart guy — definitely sharper than just average. he had a keen sense of logic, a well-organized mind, and a way of seeing things most others didn’t. but when it came to women? he could never quite make sense of them. they were a puzzle wrapped in contradictions, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t quite figure them out.

take you, for example. you were sweet, a little naive perhaps, but full of life. Eugene watched you from the sidelines sometimes, fascinated by your presence. you were the kind of girl who always wore that genuine smile, effortlessly charming everyone around you. you talked to him, to his friends, you sang little melodies when you were happy, and you were kind — always willing to listen, to laugh, to support. Eugene was captivated.

it was like you were too good for this world, too pure to be caught in the mess of people like that guy you called your boyfriend.

that pig.

Eugene hated him. he couldn’t stand how that sorry excuse for a man treated you. the way he threw his hands over you as if you were just another one of his miserable, low-life buddies. the dirty comments, the vulgar jokes, the way he slapped you on the back like you were some sort of plaything. it made Eugene’s blood boil.

you deserved better.

but what you did? you just laughed. that soft, innocent giggle that made Eugene’s chest tighten. you didn’t know, did you? that you were worth so much more than him. that your boyfriend didn’t deserve the kindness you gave so freely. but you didn’t know any better. Eugene couldn’t blame you for that. after all, you were a sweet, airy thing who lived in a world of sunshine and dreams. you hadn’t seen the darkness yet.

but it wasn’t just your boyfriend that irked him. it was the way you’d speak about him during lunch breaks, with that naive excitement. “oh, he sent me a message!” you’d gush, as if it was the grandest gesture in the world. Eugene knew the truth. that dry message — actually answer for your message — was nothing more than the bare minimum. and yet, you were so happy about it. that’s when Eugene realized : you were still a little girl when it came to boys. you didn’t know how to read the signs, how to know when someone was just using you. he’d seen it all before — guys like that.

but he was different. you didn’t know the full story, of course. Eugene kept his personal life separate from his school persona. you only knew him as the sweet, nerdy guy who always was target of bullying, along with his friend and younger brother. what you didn’t know was that Eugene had his own "business" outside of school — business he kept under wraps. he made sure you never got mixed up in it. he didn’t want to corrupt that innocent part of you, that part that made him feel like he had to protect you from everything ugly in the world.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Eugene leaned against the wall of the quiet alley, his phone in hand. a wry smirk tugged at his lips as he scrolled through the photos one of his Workers had sent him. there it was : clear, undeniable evidence of your boyfriend’s infidelity. a cozy snapshot of him locking lips with some girl at a nightclub, his hands wandering where they shouldn’t. Eugene had orchestrated the whole thing, of course. it wasn’t difficult — guys like him were predictable, ruled by their impulses. all it took was the right bait, a little nudge, and the rest unfolded like clockwork.

what followed was just as planned. the carefully timed "leak" of the photos to the right people ensured the news spread like wildfire through school. by lunchtime, it was all anyone could talk about. and you? poor, sweet you. you hadn’t been spared the whispers, the pitying glances, the thinly veiled gossip.

it worked. of course, it worked. his plans always works.

Eugene tucked his phone into his pocket and walked into the courtyard where he knew he’d find you. there you were, sitting on the edge of a bench, your shoulders trembling as you clutched your phone in your hands. your usual glow — the light he adored — was dimmed, your eyes puffy and red. you looked fragile.

good. vulnerability suited you. vulnerability needed protection.

taking a deep breath, Eugene softened his expression into one of pure concern as he approached. “hey…” his voice was gentle, soothing. “are you okay?”

you looked up, startled, and for a second, Eugene’s heart clenched at the sight of the tears streaming down your face. it wasn’t guilt — he didn’t regret what he’d done. but seeing you hurt, even for a moment, sparked an ache in his chest. still, this was necessary. a temporary pain to save you from something far worse.

“he… cheated on me,” you choked out, your voice cracking. “i can’t believe he —” another sob wracked your body, and you clamped a hand over your mouth as if to stifle it.

Eugene was by your side in an instant, sliding his blazer off and draping it over your trembling shoulders. “what?” he said, feigning shock, his brows furrowing. “are you serious? how did you find out?”

your hand shook as you showed him the photos someone had sent you. he recognized them immediately, of course, but his reaction was flawless. his lips parted in disbelief, his eyes narrowing as if in anger. “i… i don’t even know what to say. that… jerk. how could he do this to you?”

you sniffled, curling into his blazer like it was the only shield you had against the world. “i thought he loved me. i thought i mattered to him…”

Eugene clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening as he forced the perfect amount of restrained rage into his voice. “he’s an idiot. you gave him everything, and he threw it all away. he doesn’t deserve you.”

your tears flowed freely now, and Eugene leaned closer, wrapping an arm around you. he felt you collapse into his side, your fingers clutching at his shirt like a lifeline. “i feel so stupid,” you whispered. “how did i not see it?”

“no,” Eugene said firmly. he tilted your chin up with gentle fingers so you had to meet his eyes. “you’re not stupid. you trusted him, and he betrayed you. that says everything about him and nothing about you.”

your lips trembled, and Eugene took the opportunity to pull you back into his chest, letting your tears soak into his shirt. his heart swelled. this was where you belonged, where you were safe. with him. not with someone who saw you as an accessory, a conquest. someone who could never appreciate the light in you the way he did.

as you cried, Eugene rubbed soothing circles on your back, whispering soft reassurances. “it’s okay,” he murmured. “i’m here. you’re not alone in this. i’ve got you.”

and he did. he’d always have you, even if you didn’t realize it yet. this was just the beginning. the world was cruel, but Eugene? Eugene would protect you from it. he’d make sure you never had to face it alone.

of course, you’d never know the part he played in your heartbreak. you didn’t need to. all you needed to know was that Eugene was there for you now, just as he always would be. and when the time came, you’d see what he already knew : that he was the one who truly cared for you. the only one who ever really would.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

[pookalicious-hq]

gold rush... isagi yoichi x reader

| pt. 5... | prev | next | masterlist |

synopsis: isagi yoichi can't help but see the girl at his bus stop as a good omen tags/tws: meet-cute , swearing, realistic isagi (this guy doesn't pull any girls tbh), mc eye colour is mentioned but it's part of the plot guys word count: 3.5k

When it came to her, every thought was categorized in never-ending rows of information. Her eye colour, her speed, her laughter, the way she calculated space on the field—it all slotted into place, neatly organized in Isagi Yoichi’s mind. But there was one thing that didn’t fit. One thing that gnawed at him the longer they played.

How the hell was Miyakazi (Y/n) not ranked first in this camp?

He glanced at her again, his breath coming out in quick, controlled bursts as he sprinted back into position. She was already moving, her eyes scanning the field with that same sharpness that made his own field vision feel almost clumsy in comparison. He was used to seeing everything on the field, used to predicting moves, breaking down plays like clockwork. But with (Y/n), it was like she was always three steps ahead of him, seeing the game unfold with a clarity that left his abilities feeling dull in contrast. She saw passing lanes he couldn’t even imagine, split-second openings that made defenders look like they were moving in slow motion.

And yet… she was ranked under him.

It didn’t make sense. Not when she played like this.

Yoichi repositioned himself, feeling the shift in the game as they entered the second half. The girls were up 4-2, and even though his team was still very much in it, they were constantly scrambling to keep pace with (Y/n)’s leadership. His field vision normally allowed him to control the flow of a match, but she was manipulating the space around her in a way he had never encountered. Every time she touched the ball, it was like the entire field bent to her will. He’d seen top-tier strikers, players who controlled the game, but this was different. She wasn’t just dominating with her skill—she was choreographing the entire match, warping the structure of the game itself.

His eyes narrowed, locking onto her as she shifted in and out of passing lanes, calculating her next move with frightening precision. His mind raced to figure out how she was doing it, but each time, his vision felt like it was falling short. Normally, he could dissect his opponents' movements, but with her, it felt like he was always a beat behind.

The teams both had some substitutions. Reo was off, and now it was his turn to mark her. Great, he thought, glancing over at Chirigi. The two of them would have to switch off on her, keep her from running the show. But even as he steeled himself for the challenge, Isagi could feel the weight of the task sinking in.

They weren’t just up against another player—they were up against a strategist. A version of seeing the game that wasn’t just reactive like his, but preemptive. His play style allowed him to predict the next play; hers allowed her to see the entire match unfold before it even began. She saw the game before it happened.

(Y/n) got the ball again, and the instant she did, Yoichi darted toward her, trying to close the space between them. She shifted, just enough to dodge him, her eyes flicking up to scan the field.

Their eyes met, and through them, he was able to understand that she knew she would win this exchange. Yoichi knew what she was going to do next—he could feel it in his bones, could see the path she was setting up. But before he could cut her off, she was gone, the ball snapping off her foot and threading through the smallest of openings.

Damn , he cursed, barely able to keep up. She’s way faster than me.

Before he could catch his breath, (Y/n) had already moved. It was like she could phase through defenders, her speed so seamless that it didn’t even feel like she was sprinting—it felt like she was cutting through space, already anticipating the next moment. Her body shifted effortlessly, her footwork light, and with a flick of her heel, she passed the ball to a teammate, almost mocking his attempt to stop her.

Yoichi was forced to pivot, chasing after her as she advanced up the field. He finally caught up to her, and in the brief pause between plays, he couldn’t help but shoot her a look.

"You’re fast," he muttered, breath still laboured.

(Y/n) didn’t even glance his way, eyes still on the game. "You’re slow."

The words weren’t meant to be cruel—they were just a fact. A truth she’d already accepted, and now he had to as well. 

With the little breath he had left, Yoichi huffed out a laugh. However, he soon regretted the act as she took off in the direction of the current play. 

She was really… something. A forced to be fucking reconed with of course. He couldn’t tell if it was envy or admiration, but his already growing feelings sent a burst into his chest. 

19 minutes left in the second half. He needed to win this. 

He sprinted, eyes darting between Otsuka Yua and (Y/n). Sure enough, as if their minds were in sync, Yua’s feet moved, passing the ball back with a sharp flick toward her captain, who was already in motion.

Yoichi glanced to his left, catching Chigiri’s eye. They didn’t need words to understand what needed to happen. Stealing the ball from (Y/n) outright was a fool’s errand, especially when she was in control like this. Their only hope was to contain her. Box her in, limit her options, and pray she didn’t slip through.

Chigiri moved first, his explosive speed cutting across the field as he zeroed in on her. Yoichi mirrored him, angling his run to trap her between them.

She barely spared them a glance, her gaze fixed on the field ahead, calculating and cold as she shifted the ball between her feet. Yoichi could feel his heart pounding in his chest, sweat dripping down his back, but he kept his focus locked on her movements.

She wasn’t going to make this easy.

As he closed in, Yoichi saw her muscles tense, saw the way she shifted her weight to her left foot—a split-second signal that she was about to pivot. His eyes flickered to Chigiri, and he knew the redhead had caught the same sign.

They converged, closing the space around her like a trap.

But (Y/n) didn’t flinch. Instead, with a grace that made Yoichi’s stomach twist with frustration, she shifted the ball backward, dragging it with the sole of her foot just out of their reach. In one fluid motion, she feinted left, sending Chigiri lunging, before darting right.

Yoichi cursed under his breath, scrambling to keep up, but she was already moving, slipping past their attempted containment like water through their fingers.

"Shit," Chigiri growled as he pivoted back, trying to catch up.

Yoichi knew they couldn’t keep letting her make them look like amateurs. He dug deep, pushing his legs harder to catch up to her before she could orchestrate another play.

“Don’t let her breathe!” Yoichi shouted at Chigiri, both of them racing to cut her off again before she could break through the defensive line.

But in the back of his mind, a voice nagged at him—a voice that was equal parts awe and frustration. How the hell was she not ranked first? Whatever, maybe he’d ask her later, now he just needed to stop her from plowing the field away.

Chigiri managed to cut her off before Isagi could, positioning himself directly in front of her, his speed barely enough to keep pace with her relentless forward push. (Y/n) stood there, the ball still at her feet, and for a moment, she looked like she was going to do what she always did—pass. Her eyes flicked to the right, toward Yua, the perfect opening.

Isagi tensed, waiting for her to make the familiar move.

But then... she hesitated.

It was so brief, so subtle, that anyone else might have missed it. But not Isagi. That split-second of hesitation as (Y/n)'s gaze lingered on the goal as if she were thinking about something different. Something she'd never done.

She wanted to shoot, Yoichi realized, his heart pounding. She’s going for it herself.

And before either he or Chigiri could react, she shifted. Her body twisted in the slightest motion, and then—boom.

She shot.

The ball cut through the air like lightning, heading straight for the bottom corner of the net. But Isagi was already moving, instincts and reflexes taking over. He lunged, his body stretching out as he reached for the shot with everything he had.

His foot made contact.

The ball ricocheted off, deflected.

Isagi stumbled slightly from the effort, but he’d done it—he’d blocked it. And in that moment, the game turned. His eyes flicked to Chigiri, and without wasting a second, they sprang into action, the counterattack already forming in his mind (though she probably already thought of it before the ball hit the ground).

She knew it was coming.

After the game, Coach Watanabe would pull her aside. She could already feel her stare—those dark, piercing eyes that seemed to strip away every layer of pretence, cutting into her like a blade. (Y/n) could almost hear her voice, low and steady, asking the one question she had been dreading.

Why did you hesitate?

The cold air bit at her flushed skin, and the weight of her mistake pressed down like a physical burden.

And the worst part was, she didn’t have an answer.

Her mind replayed the moment with a relentless clarity, the scene etched into her brain as if it were burned there. The ball had felt solid beneath her foot, a perfect connection as she controlled it. Chigiri had been in front of her, close enough for her to see the slight tightening in his muscles, the tension in his legs as he prepared to cut off her path. She could hear his laboured breaths, feel the heat radiating off him as they both hovered on the edge of action.

From behind, she had felt Isagi closing in, his shadow practically breathing down her neck. Her heartbeat had pounded in her ears, faster, faster, until it drowned out everything else.

Yua is open. Pass.

The thought had been right there, as clear as day. Yua was in position, waiting. Passing was the obvious choice. It was what she always did—find the space, set up her teammates, let them take the shot.

They’re efficient. They score.

But something had flickered inside her—a hesitation, brief but potent enough to throw her off balance. She had wanted to take the shot herself. For once, she wanted to be the one to finish it. To prove herself. But her body didn’t move fast enough, the decision snagging in her mind like a tangle of threads.

In that split second of uncertainty, everything had slipped through her fingers. She hadn’t passed, and she hadn’t shot.

The window had slammed shut.

Isagi had blocked her shot, and within seconds, he and Chigiri had torn down the field in a flash of red and blue, launching a counterattack that felt like a gut punch. The sight of Isagi’s cleats striking the ball, the net rippling with his goal—it had felt like someone had poured ice down her spine. Her missed opportunity had given him the opening. Her mistake had led to his success.

Her stomach churned, nausea mixing with anger as the weight of the moment settled in her bones. The sting of failure clung to her skin like sweat, cold and inescapable. The air around her felt heavy, almost suffocating, thick with the tension of the game’s end. She could feel the unspoken disappointment hanging in the air, as real as the turf beneath her feet.

Why couldn’t she make a choice? Her jaw clenched, frustration bubbling up with every breath. Passing had been the safe option, the smart option. But shooting— shooting was what she needed to do if she wanted to rise. If she wanted to surpass Isagi if she wanted to be more than just another player.

But now?

Now she had nothing. No goal. No assist. Just the hollow ache in her chest as she watched Isagi Yoichi walk off the field with a victory she had practically handed him.

She swallowed hard, the frustration burning a path down her throat. It sat heavy in her chest, simmering and unresolved, but it wouldn’t consume her. Next time, she told herself. Next time, she wouldn’t hesitate.

(Y/n) stood BY the sideline, heart pounding, her chest tight with a mix of frustration and disappointment. She could hear the cheers echoing around her, a cacophony of voices celebrating Isagi's goal—their goal. She felt like an outsider now, a spectator watching from a distance as his teammates revelled in the moment. The whistle blew, and she braced herself for what she knew was coming.

"Tetsuya Minato in. Miyakazi (Y/n) out."

The words felt like a punch to the gut. She turned from the field, her pulse quickening as she saw Coach Watanabe striding toward her, determination in her step. It was as if she could feel the weight of the impending conversation hanging in the air, thick and heavy.

As Mina jogged onto the field, (Y/n) caught sidelong glances from her teammates. Some were congratulatory, others laden with concern. They all knew the situation—the hesitation that had cost them momentum. She forced herself to meet their gazes, trying to project confidence, even as her insides twisted with uncertainty.

Anger simmered beneath her skin, not at the swap, but at herself. How could she have hesitated? In this moment, no one hated (Y/n) more than she loathed herself. Yet, you probably wouldn’t be able to guess that, as her team looked to their captain walking off the field; they only saw a blank expression and a tight smile.

She willed her features into a mask of calm, tucking away the turmoil roiling inside her. The cheers surrounding her felt distant, like echoes from another world. All she could focus on was the sting of disappointment, threatening to unravel the facade she had built around her reputation. She forced herself to appear unbothered as she approached the bench. Deep down, though, every cheer for Isagi cut deeper, reminding her of her missed opportunity.

“Good job, Cap” Mina called as he took her place, the excitement in her voice a sharp contrast to the knot in her stomach.

She managed a smile, but it felt hollow. She turned her attention to the game, determined to keep her head in it, even as frustration clawed at her. She wouldn’t show her teammates the turmoil brewing inside; they needed to see their captain steady, not shaken.

"(Y/n)," Coach Watanabe said, her voice steady yet firm as she beckoned her to the side. She followed Watanabe, the ground feeling unsteady beneath her feet. “Let’s replay.”

“Sure,” she replied, voice strained.

Once they were a few paces away, the coach crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. “What happened out there?” Her tone was calm, but (Y/n) could sense the undercurrent of concern running through it.

She swallowed hard, searching for the right words. “I—”

“You hesitated,” Watanabe interrupted, her gaze sharp as a knife, cutting through the tension. “You went against your function. You’re a midfielder, not a striker. Your job is to control the tempo, to set up plays, not take unnecessary risks.”

(Y/n) felt her cheeks flush, warmth creeping up her neck like a rising tide, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration boiling beneath the surface. The taste of iron filled her mouth, a bitter reminder of the moment she had let slip through her fingers. “I know what I am. I just… I wanted to try something different. I thought maybe—”

“Maybe what?” Coach Watanabe pressed, her voice wasn't mocking, only steady and firm. “That you could single-handedly change the game? You’re part of a team. We play together, not as individuals. Your strength lies in your vision, your ability to read the game, not in taking on that kind of pressure.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth, ready to defend herself, but the words died on her lips. Watanabe was right. She had let the moment get to her, allowed her ambition to cloud her judgment like a fog rolling in over a quiet sea. “I just thought… maybe I could surprise them.”

Coach Watanabe let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping as if carrying the weight of the team on them. “I appreciate your drive, but this isn’t about individual glory. It’s about the team. You’re still contributing from the bench, even if you’re not on the field. And right now, we need to regroup. They’re playing without you.”

The words felt like a cold splash of water, jolting (Y/n) back to reality. A wave of disappointment washed over her, and she nodded, the weight of her coach's words settling like a thick fog in her mind. “I understand.”

“Good,” she said, a hint of encouragement creeping into her tone, softening the edges of her earlier reprimand. “Just remember: you can shoot, you can pass, do whatever. I expect 100% commitment for anything, especially from you.”

With that, she turned away, leaving (Y/n) standing on the sideline, feeling both deflated and strangely empowered. She watched as her teammates moved around the field, their focus shifting back to the match, the cheers rising again as they pressed forward, trying to turn the tide.

She inhaled deeply, the scent of sweat and grass filling her lungs. She could hear the rhythmic thud of the ball against cleats, the cheers of her teammates blending into a cacophony of support. Even though she was off the field, she felt the energy buzzing around her, igniting a spark within.

The score was still 4-3, and there was around 8 minutes left. Even if she was on the bench now, she was still part of this team, and she would make sure that her presence was felt.

It seemed as if right away they had taken advantage of her absence. 

From the bench, (Y/n)'s gaze locked onto the field, her pulse still elevated from the earlier play. It wasn’t like they couldn’t function without her—the team was adaptable—but without her controlling the tempo, they shifted to a more defensive style, closing ranks, holding their ground. A flicker of frustration sparked in her chest, but she swallowed it down. She could still help.

“Mina, Kunimi! Keep shape” she shouted, her voice cutting through the noise of the match. Her teammates responded, tightening their formation, pushing the opposing team-wide, forcing them to rethink their strategy. The air crackled with tension, each movement calculated, each pass weighted with precision.

Her eyes darted to the other side, tracking Isagi’s movements. It was obvious now. He was more open , exploiting the gaps in their defence, capitalizing on the fact that without her, the midfield didn’t quite have the same bite. He was pushing forward, more aggressively than before.

She narrowed her gaze, her eyes studying him. Isagi wasn’t just playing the game—he was dissecting it, reading the defence like an open book, setting up the next move before her team even realized they needed to react. He was different here , more confident, commanding, as if the field gave him a whole new identity.

Her instincts kicked in. She could see what Isagi saw—the weaknesses in their defence, the open spaces he could slip through if they weren’t careful. He was trying to disappear, moving through the blind spots, ghosting between players, waiting for the moment to strike.

“Watch your blind spots!” she yelled, her voice sharp, eyes locked on Isagi’s subtle movements. Her team shifted, closing the gaps, trying to keep up with his elusive footwork. He was patient, waiting for the perfect moment.

Then the ball moved to Nagi.

(Y/n)’s heartbeat quickened. She could sense the pressure building, the way her teammates tensed, ready for the challenge. “Box him!” she called out, directing the defence to press in. If they could trap Nagi, they could break the play.

The defence pressed hard, and one of her teammates intercepted the pass from Nagi, breaking the flow of the opposing team. The momentum shifted, and they surged toward the goal, moving with speed and purpose.

Her attention flickered back to Isagi. He was a different person on the field. Normally, she knew him as awkward, even a bit dorky, with that shy smile and those soft, unassuming glances. But here… here he was something else. Commanding. His presence was like gravity, pulling the game toward him, orchestrating every move with ruthless precision. It was unsettling, but at the same time, she understood it.

Her pulse thudded in her ears as she watched the game unfold. They were all here to represent Japan for a reason, and Isagi was proving exactly why. Even from the bench, she could sense his growing influence on the field, his presence becoming more dangerous with every passing second.

The strength of her gaze tracked him as he drifted closer to Otoya, positioning himself perfectly, waiting for the right moment. He was patient, calculating, like a hunter lying in wait. Otoya weaved through their defence, agile and slippery, until he spotted the opening. In a flash, he sent the ball spiralling back to Isagi.

There it was. The pass she had been dreading.

(Y/n)’s breath hitched. She could see Isagi's path and the space he’d carve through their defence. If only she was out there to stop him. Her chest tightened, frustration bubbling beneath her skin, but she shoved it down. Now wasn’t the time for regrets—she needed to analyze.

Isagi was in full control. He pivoted sharply, his touch light but deliberate as he gathered the ball. With one quick glance, he scanned the field, taking in every angle, every gap, every player out of position. (Y/n) could see the wheels turning in his mind, and the way he read the game was terrifying. He wasn’t the fastest or the strongest, but his vision was unmatched. He could predict the flow of play, manipulate the defense into creating the spaces he wanted.

Her heart raced as she followed his movements. He was moving through layers of their defence, slipping between players, using their hesitation against them. Every step he took was calculated, each fake-out drawing defenders out of position. It was like watching someone orchestrate a symphony, each movement flowing seamlessly into the next.

"Close him down!" she found herself shouting, even though it was already too late. Isagi was free.

He angled his body, shifting his weight just enough to keep the defenders guessing. Then, with a swift cut to the left, he exploded forward. Two of her teammates lunged to block him, but he didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch. A quick give-and-go with Otoya and Isagi was clear, his path to goal wide open.

(Y/n) could practically feel the tension crackling through the air as he lined up his shot. He didn’t need to power it in—instead, his foot met the ball with a precision that seemed almost effortless. The ball arced beautifully, sailing just beyond the keeper’s fingertips, hitting the back of the net with a sharp, definitive snap.

4-4.

Her stomach twisted as she watched Isagi celebrate, his teammates swarming him, the mixture of cheers and groans blending into a dissonant hum. He was a completely different person out here. That awkwardness she associated with him was gone, replaced by a sharp-edged confidence, an almost predatory focus that had taken command of the game.

If only she had been out there.

But for now, all she could do was watch—and she found every second of it repulsing.

a/n: sorry for the late updates besties... here ya go <3

taglist: @sarahforever

[thisisntablogspost]

Say You’re Mine - Miniseries

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warning: MDNI! This miniseries contains triggers that may cause a negative effect to the consumer. This includes cheating, forced proximity, toxic dom/sub dynamics, unhealthy relationships, alcohol, coercion, manipulation, oral (f & m receiving), unprotected piv (don’t do this). The reader is consenting and allows these things to happen to them.

Authors note: I want to apologize for the delay in putting out part three! Thank you all for the feedback. I’m so glad y’all are enjoying the miniseries! I hope you enjoy part three! If this isn’t something you don’t want to read please avoid and I’ll catch you on the next one! If I missed any other triggers please dm me so I can add them. I want you all to be safe when reading my fanfics. Your mental health matters. 🖤

Part Three.

The group chat was busy tonight, Noah was throwing another party at his house. He invited you and Ryan, along with all of his closest friends. Ryan sends a text that he couldn’t make it tonight, work called him in. Your eyes widened. You can’t go. You can’t. You sigh. Ryan would want you to go. You type out a text and send it to the group chat.

If everyone is okay with me coming without Ryan lol 😂

You have to play along. Ryan still hasn’t suspected anything.

Jolly: Yeah, come join us, y/n!

Nicholas: 🙏🙏🙏

Folio: You better!

You roll your eyes, no text from Noah. Why would you expect one? You put your phone down to go to your closet to pick out a dress for tonight. You pick out a black bodycon dress. It’s going to be cold out. You grab a flannel, and put on your doc martens. You look in the mirror, checking over if you like the outfit. You look good. You go to the bathroom to put on some mascara and a little bit of lip gloss. You walk to the door, grabbing your purse, keys, and phone.

After a twenty minute drive you pull up to his house, you can already hear the loud music. You get out of your car, closing it behind you. You walk up to his front door, letting yourself in. You are greeted by the guys. They welcome you inside and all pull you into hugs, everyone’s already drinking, and talking. Everyone is welcoming you into the party…where’s Noah?

You think it’s odd that he hasn’t come up, and made a remark about you. Or tried to mess with you. Maybe…just maybe he’s moved on from his little game he was playing with you. You converse with a few friends as you make your way throughout the house. You look around. You are handed a drink, you look down, having no idea what it is. You put the cup down, walking through the living room. You spot him. He is drinking his beer, and talking with his friends. He picks up a joint beside him. He lights it, watching you. He smirks, taking a drag of the joint. He exhales, letting the smoke surround him.

It’s part of his game, make you come crawling back to him. He played with you a little, messed with your head. Now it’s your turn to come to him. He licks his lips, taking another drag of the joint. His hooded eyes looking over your body, lingering in certain spots. You aren’t going to give in. Nope. You look away, walking to the kitchen. You are greeted by Noah’s friend, Jesse. You get your drink, you and Jesse start chatting. This is good, a familiar face. Someone who respected your boundaries, and you.

You feel his eyes on you. You turn your body towards Jesse, giving him your full attention as you both talk about random topics.

The conversation goes on for quite awhile. Jesse excuses himself to go to the bathroom. You laugh, ushering him to go. You turn around to see Noah isn’t in his previous spot. You sigh in relief. Maybe he has given up, and will finally leave you alone. You wanted that…right? You walk down the hallway, trying to get away from the noise. You feel like you’re suffocating once again.

You find yourself wandering. It’s like clockwork, you’re in front of Noah’s door. You stand there, looking down at the doorknob. Then back up at the dark wooden door. His room held many memories for you and Noah. You step back. You run a hand through your hair, debating on if you should go in or not. Why? What good would that do?

“What are you doing, y/n?” You shake your head. You turn your body, bumping into a solid mass. You stumble backwards, looking up at Noah. This time you can’t finds the words.

“Going somewhere?” He smirks, stepping closer to you. You step back again. Your eyes locked in on his as he glares down at you.

“No words now?” His voice is low, and dark with slight amusement as he takes another step. His smirk never fading.

“What’s the matter? Hm?”

“Nothing..” You swallow, trying to muster up something to say to him. He smirks and takes another final step, looking down at you. He steps forward again, leaning forward to look you in the eyes, a smirk ever growing on his face.

“Are you sure…” He says, taking another step closer to you. Your back bumps into the wall, you can’t help feel vulnerable as he presses himself against you. Noah looks behind him to find the hallway is empty. His eyes return to look down at you. His hands against the wall, your head tilts up to look up at him. He smirks again, he’s loving how weak you are for him. You’re right where he wanted you, pressed between the wall, and nowhere to go. You feel a soft, feather like touch against your collarbone, gliding down your arm. You look away, his gaze is too intense. You shiver feeling his fingers brushing against the valley of your breasts. He chuckles. He’s loving every second of this interaction between the two of you. You can’t look at him. His hand falling to your hip, bringing you close to him. You feel his breath on your neck.

“What’s the matter? You can’t even look me in the eyes anymore?” He keeps a smirk on his lips. You’re still avoiding his gaze.

“Look at me, y/n” his lips next to your ear. You whimper, he presses a soft kiss on your neck. You tense, his thumb stroking your hipbone.

“Tell me you miss me…” He keeps his lips pressed against your neck as he whispers.

“Noah..” you groan, not wanting to beg for anything from him. He gently nips your earlobe, his thumb rubbing circles along your hip.

“Say it…” His teeth gently biting your neck.

“It hurts to much to say it.” You gasp, feeling his teeth graze across your sensitive skin.

“Tell me…”

“I miss you..”

“Good girl…you’re being such a good girl for me…” He’s true to his words. He starts off with small, then works you up to the words that break you down. He nips your neck again.

“Say it again…”

“So you can stop? Torture me some more?” You look up at him. He doesn’t say anything. He stares down at you with a blank expression.

“What’s your end game?” You question him. His lips trail to your ear.

“I love how easily you melt in my hands when you’re this weak…” His whispers are soft and tantalizing. You whimper as he nibbles on your earlobe.

“Don’t ignore me” He chuckles. It’s clear he’s loving that you’re trying to have some control over this current predicament you’re in.

“I’m not ignoring you princess…” He gently bites on your earlobe again. You feel his hands trailing down your body.

“Mmm” You moan, it feels so good when he touches you like this.

“You’re being so good, so weak for me…” His voice is low in your ear. It sends chills down throughout your body. His hands gently rubbing along your waist, hips, and upper thighs.

“Are you going to fuck me?” You ask bluntly. He grins, nipping at your jaw.

“I might…if you’re good for me…”

“Please…I can’t take it anymore”

“Beg…” he kisses along your neck, marking up your skin.

“Please”

“Please what, princess…” He pulls away, looking intensely at you. You know he’s wanting to hear you beg for more. You let your head fall on his chest, stepping away from the wall. He wraps his hand around your throat, putting you up against the wall again.

“Beg. Say the words I’m waiting to hear…” He tightens his hand around your neck. You gasp, your hand finding his wrist. It’s a game, there’s no prize. He’s toying with you.

“Please fuck me, Noah” His grip tightens. You know those are the wrong words. He smirks. You know it’s so easy for you to break when it comes to him.

“Still wrong princess, say the words I want you to hear”You huff, you aren’t going to say it.

“Say you’re mine, princess…” He bites along your neck, leaving red and purple marks.

“Nooo…don’t do that all over again…” He smirks darkly, gently kisses along her neck…

“And what if I do?”

“Just do it. Stop toying with me” God, you sound so desperate. You know it’s music to his ears. He smirks…his lips still on your neck, biting, teasing you.

“No…not yet…” He kisses your collarbone, pressing his knee against you. The pressure between your thighs grows, you cling to his shirt. He stops. You whine, looking up at him as you pant. He smirks down at you.

“Still not saying the words…”

“Fuck off” He chuckles darkly, loving how much you want him. You aren’t giving in this time. You are going to resist.

“I don’t think you mean that…”

“Maybe I do” you push him off, fixing your dress. Your core is throbbing. You hate him. He chuckles as he shoves you back against the wall, holding you there. His knee against your core again.

“You don’t mean that, you need me…”

“I’m not admitting anything” He chuckles as he continues to press against you, watching you tense up from the sensations he’s creating.

“Admit it. You want it, I know you do…”

“Yet, you won’t let me” He gently bites your lower lip, before teasing up to your ear.

“Say it for me, and I’ll give you what you want…” He murmurs against the spot between your neck and ear. You feel the goosebumps pebbling your skin as his breath fans over your neck.

“Fuck me, sir.” You smirk. You can play again. No please for him. He grins. You can tell he loves playing your games.

“Beg properly…” He teases against you. His hand trailing under the hem of your dress.

“You know what….” You smack his hand away. He’s quick to grab your wrist, bringing it up to his lips.

“Say it or I won’t give you what you want. Beg me for it…” You pull your hand away from his grasp. He’s teasing you. He wants to see you completely give in.

“Make me” You cross your arms, looking up at him. He chuckles darkly, loving how small and tough you look right now. He wants to see how far you with this.

“Make you? I can have you trembling in seconds. Keep begging me…” He purrs as he leans in close to your face.

“Hahah, yeah, okay.” You try to not whimper, knowing he damn well could.

“You doubt me, princess?” He leans in further. His breath fanning along your lips. He bites your lower lip, pulling gently, but not giving you the kiss you needs. He kisses his way to your ear, nipping at your earlobe.

“I do, actually”

“You really want to test me?” He continues to bite, and nip along your neck. His hands now moving along your waist, hips, gripping them firmly as he pulls you against him.

“Mhm.” You want to push him over the edge like he’s down to you these past weeks.

“You know you’ll regret it…” He smirks as he presses his his between your legs, you gasp. His hands holding you firmly by your waist. You’re standing strong, you feel the need to add fuel to the fire.

“Am I? Does nowah not like it when I get bratty?”

“I love when you get bratty, princess, but you’re not going to get what you want. I’m going to love watching you break…” He chuckles, looking down at you as he watches you start to react to his teasing once again.

“Two can play at that game”

“Oh, I’d love to see you try…” He presses his knee harder against you. His hands reach down to grab your wrists to pin them above your head. You know he loves playing like this, testing his self control. He loves it more knowing you will lose it before him. He’s sick that way.

“Say you’re mine and I’ll give you what you want, princess. It isn’t that hard…” He purrs into your ear, keeping a tight grip on your wrists.

“Beg me for it…”

“No” He chuckles, he keeps his knee in place, not moving. You feel the need for him building up again. You look down to see a wet spot on his pants. His eyes follow yours, looking down at the mess you made. He snickers, seeing the evidence of how he’s making you feel in plain sight. He looks down at you.

“Really now? I think your body is telling you that you love what I’m doing to you.” He pushes his knee against you again, resuming his teasing. You try to pull away, smirking up at him.

“I…”

“You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“I do know how it ends..it always ends the same way.”

“So, what makes you think the outcome will be different? Hm? You’ll give in, you always do. It’s pathetic.” His voice is low against your ear. He pulls away, gripping your wrist, leading you to his bedroom. No one else gets to see you fall apart. Only him. He drags you to his bedroom. He closes the door behind him. He pushes you on the bed, watching you, rready to show you what happens when you try to be a brat.

“What now? Are we going to gossip?” He chuckles, loving your confidence. You know it won’t last*

“Shut up.” He says softly, slowly moving over you, pinning your wrists to the bed. He’s always loved seeing you trapped underneath him.

“Shut up and look at me…” His voice is still low and deep. His hands pinning your wrists to the bed, sitting on your waist, locking your thighs between his legs. You are trying your best to keep up the brat act, but the way he’s looking down at you, it’s slowly starting to slip away. He smirks, loving the way he’s completely pinning you, trapping you. You aren’t going anywhere now.

“You always break so easily for me. I can see you’re already struggling, y/n” His hand moves to gently, and slowly trail along your thigh. His fingers light touches teasing you.

“No…” You mumble, he’s looking down at you. He smirks, loving your denial.

“We’ll see how long you can hold out” He continues to trail his fingers, teasing you, but not giving you any relief. He lets go of your wrists, his fingers hiking up your dress over your hips revealing your black lacy thong. One of his favorites. He looks down at her, tracing his fingers over the pattern.

“Are these for me?” He smirks, you roll your eyes. It wasn’t intentional, you weren’t thinking about the effect your underwear would have on him.

“No” He growls, not liking that answer. It was like a switch came on in his eyes. Oh no…you started to quickly realize what this just turned into.

“Well, if I can’t touch…neither can you” He grabs your wrists again. Oh no, not this game. You start begging, you hate this. You always hated it. He needs both hands for what he’s going to do to you. He reaches in a drawer pulling out the infamous silk ties. You start to panic, you thrash in his grasp.

“Where do you think you’re going? Hm? You’re staying right here. You remember this game, yeah? It’s your favorite.” He laughs in your face, as he wraps the silk ties around your wrists tying them on the headboard of his bed.

“Noah, no…please. I don’t want to play, please…I hate it”

“You should’ve known what was going to happen when I saw those. You know what these do to me.” It’s so twisted and dark. It’s the no touch game. Whenever you would deny him of anything, he would deny you. His way, or not at all.

“I don’t think you’re going to win this little game. You’re not as strong as you think…”

“I’m sorry, okay. Please.” You squirm underneath him, tugging against the ties. He pins your hips down, watching as you struggle to get away.

“Sorry doesn’t work. You knew what you were getting into…”

“Noah…please”

“Beg for it. Beg for my touch, then you’ll be able to win this game…” You groan, tugging and thrashing against them.

“Please, I wanna touch you. I’m sorry. Please” You whimper, it was so easy, quick and pathetic at how quickly you gave in.

“Aw, you want a second chance? That’s cute. Do you think you deserve it?” He smirks down at you, knowing you couldn’t resist his persuasive words.

“I think you haven’t really learned your lesson yet…”

“I’m sorry..”

“You’re going to have to prove it, and beg more…”

*He purrs…watching her squirm*

“Beg to prove it…be a good girl…”you tug again at the ties, whining. You knew you couldn’t get away. He brought his hands up to your wrists. He slowly brings them down your arms. You arch your back. You hate it. You can’t do anything about it.

“Aw, can’t get away? Too fucking bad.” He purrs, so easy to break you. He hasn’t even touched you properly.

“Beg some more princess…” You squirm, as he passes over your underarms. His hands over to your breasts, cupping them. You can’t help the moan that leaves your lips.

“Say please. Beg for it…” He leans down, barely brushing his lips to yours.

“If you want my touch you need to beg for it…” You had to hold on. Oh…his hands still massaging your breasts, slow and deliberate. The sensation goes straight to your core. He moves his hands away from your chest, trailing down your ribs and stomach. His touch is barely there.

“Are you going to give up?”

“Nope. Nnnn” If you give in, say how badly you need it, you lose his strange game. His hands trail down to your underwear, then back up your body. He knows how badly you want it. He can see it in your eyes, and he smiles. He gently trails a finger up and down along your sides.

“Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“N-No” He chuckles as you continue to hold out. The look on his face. He’s loving how he has you completely at his will under him.

“Can’t say it? Too bad. Haha, I love getting you like this. You’re so weak, and desperate for me…” He moves down to your hipbones, squeezing them. It makes you bucks your hips.

“See? Just look at you. You’re already squirming under me. So weak for me, my weak little girl” He loves seeing you fall apart beneath him, how desperate you are.

“No..”

“Say you’re mine…” He gently trails his hands along your thighs. He’s loving hearing the way you whimper.

“Mmm” He chuckles. He gently brushes against your core. You whine, tugging against the ties. You can’t help your legs opening up for him.

“Come on, you know you want it. Say you need it…”

“Oh god”

“Tell me how badly you need it…” His hand brushes over your core again. You look up to see him looking at you, watching your every move.

“Beg for me. Be a good girl…”

“Nnn” you arch your back as his finger circles around your clit through your underwear. He groans in satisfaction.

“Say it or I stop…” He taps your pussy with his hand lightly. You writhe against the mattress. You can only mutter out whimpers of desperation.

“Come on, y/n. Be a good girl. Say it…” He continues to tease, light touches that he knew wouldn’t provide you with the friction you needed. You raise your hips, grinding against his touch. You needed it so bad. It was driving you over the edge.

“Say the words, and I’ll give it to you…”

“Please, touch me. I need your touch, please, sir.” Damn it, you think to yourself.

“Say it again. Say how badly you need me…” He can feel the wet spot of your arousal soaking his fingers. He keeps going with those slow, maddening circles around your pussy, brushing your clit.

“Please, touch me, sir”

“Say you need it.” He groans, feeling you writhe against his fingers.

“I need it. Please”

“How much do you need it? Beg like a good girl…” He slows down the movement of his hand. You continue to mumble out whimpers.

“Beg with your words for me…and I’ll make you feel so good…”

“Ahh..” you whine, his fingers sliding under the fabric of your underwear.

“I need it so badly please, I need all of you”

“Beg me for it…” He nips your neck, sliding your underwear to the side.

“Noah…please”

“You have to beg properly…” He’s watching how his touches and his words are making you fall apart. A cry of frustration escapes your lips.

“I need you so badly, please, I can stop thinking about it, please, sir”

“That’s my good girl. There’s not a thought in your mind other than me now is there?” He runs his fingers pinch your clit lightly, causing you to gasp. Your legs start to shake.

“I..I need it so badly.” You whimper as he takes his hand away.

“Can’t even think about anything else, just me taking you apart piece by piece. You need me to make you feel good, don’t you, baby?” He’s loving watching how desperate you are, needing his touches, and his words. You are putty in his hands.

“Please, I need it. Please.” You words stammer, a tear slips down your cheek. You’re embarrassed by how turned on you are.

“Good girl, so weak for me, so desperate. Be a good girl. Beg for it again…” You lean into his hand as he wipes away the tears with his thumb. He smiles down at you. Your mind is turning off, all consumed by him.

“Mmmphh…”

“Come on, beg for it…” His voice sounds impatient.

“Beg for me to touch you…”

“Please, please, please! Noah, please. Touch me, make me feel good. I want to feel good, please, sir” He chuckles. His fingers gently trail over your underwear.

“So little touches can get you trembling and begging? So weak for me, y/n” He’s watching you closely, watching you tremble at his touch. He laughs at how little he has to do to get a reaction out of you. The satisfied look on his face makes your stomach turn.

“I can only think of you..” You squirm, tugging at your restraints. You’re panting, wanting him so badly. He’s toying with you. You’re at his mercy. Again.

“You’re helpless, completely weak for me. My good girl…” He’s got you so weak. You’re ashamed about how all it took is gentle teasing touches, and you’re his little toy, begging for more.

“Please, touch me, sir”

“My good girl, you’re begging so well, maybe I will…” He runs his fingers over your hip. You hate yourself for being so desperate for him. You whine again. His hand cups your core. The little touches are making you mad and wild with need. He keeps running his fingers against you.

“You sound so needy, sweet girl”

“Please, sir. Please!” He loves teasing you like this. The desperation in your voice, how badly you want him.

“What do you want princess…” He whispers into your ear. You groan in frustration. You hate this mind game.

“Say exactly what you want. Beg me to make you feel good…”

“I’ve been saying what I want! Please, sir! Please!”

“You haven’t said the specific words I want to hear.” His voice has the edge in it. He knows how to bend and mold you to how he likes, to give in to his every word.

“My pussy”

“Good girl, say it again for me…” You know that when he has you like this it’s boosting that awful ego through the roof. It makes him feel so powerful when he controls you.

“Please touch my pussy, sir”

“Be specific, y/n. What do you want me to do to your pussy?”

“Noah…I swear…I..I mean.”

“Say it or else…”

“Make me feel good by touching my pussy, sir. Please” You whined, feeling the desperation taking over.

“Mmm, good girl. Such pretty words…” He presses his fingers against your pussy. His fingers working around your clit. You moan, feeling a little relief.

“How does that feel…?”

“Mmmm, so good”

“Such a pretty reaction, feel good? Are you going to behave now?” He leans down to capture your lips in a kiss. His tongue brushing across your lip, you open your mouth, moaning as his tongue brushes yours. He pulls away, waiting for your response.

“Yes, I’ll be good. Please, can I have more?”

“What are you going to say if you keep acting like a good girl?” He bumps your nose with his pointer finger, chuckling as he does it.

“Thank you, sir”

“Good girl” he kisses down your neck. His hand leaving your pussy, you whimper. He slowly pulls down your thong. You lift your hips for him as he pulls them down your thighs, down to your ankles. He throws them on the floor, looking down at you.

“Beg to thank me princess, beg me to make you feel good…”

“Thank you, sir. Thank you for making me feel good”

“Good girl, say please, and I’ll give you more…”

“Please, sir”

“Say the words, beg me to make you feel good, and I’ll give you what you want…”

“Please, sir. Please make me feel good.”

“Such a good girl, behaving so well…”

“Ohh”

“Come on, be a good girl. Beg me for more…” He pushes up your thighs to your chest. You feel so exposed as his hands squeeze and massage your sensitive thighs. He looks down to see your arousal. He hums, leaning down to gather it with his fingers, coating your pussy in your slick. You gasp, feeling his fingers brush your entrance.

“Ahh..nnn…please, can I have your fingers, sir?”

“Good girl, say please if you want my fingers.” Your breath hitched, feeling his finger teasing your entrance, then trail up over your clit, then back down again.

“Please sir”

“Where do you want my fingers?” He leans down to kiss up the back of your thighs, nipping, sucking hard to leave marks.

“Inside” You moan, feeling his tongue soothing the marks he left behind.

“Inside where? Can’t have you being that vague…” He teases, getting his damn kicks from hearing you be so pathetic for him. He continues to kiss your inner thighs, his fingers brushing, and rubbing your clit.

“Me”

“Say it princess…” He whispers against your skin, not even bothering to look up at you as he worships you.

“Can I have your fingers inside me? Please, sir”

“What do you say first?” He looks up at you, continuing to bite your thighs.

“Thank you…”

“That’s right, thank me. Be a good girl for me…”

“Thank you, sir”

“Such a good girl…behaving so well…what are you needing right now, princess…?” His eyes watching how you as he kisses, licks, and bites your thighs. His fingers at your entrance, teasing around it. He’s not giving you what you want, not yet.

“Your mouth and fingers, sir.” You blushed when you said it. He looks down at your core, he slides a finger in. He looks back up at you to see your head turning into your arm. He curls his finger, keeping a slow pace as he rubs your g-spot.

“You’re so cute, are you begging for them, sweet girl?”

Please, can I have your mouth and fingers, sir? Please” Your response is breathless. He adds another finger, your walls clench around him.

“Good girl, is that all you want?” He tilts his head in a condescending manner. He can see just how badly you need him.

“And you..”

“You want me?” The smirk grows on his face.

“Yes, sir”

“Say it. Say you need me, beg me for what you want…”The eagerness in his tone is evident that he is wanting to hear just how badly you need him as.

“First, I want you to eat me, and finger me. I want all of you. Please, sir” His fingers pick up the pace, you moan as he works that spot again.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl. Don’t forget to thank me for making this cunt feel so good.”

“Please, sir. Thank you, sir!” You cry out, feeling yourself getting close.

“There we go, say it again. Be a good girl, beg me for it…”

“Please, sir.” Your voice sounds so desperate. His fingers feel so fucking good.

“Say exactly what you want…” he smirks, biting his lip as he watches his fingers disappear and reappear from your pussy.

“Please, eat me and finger me, then may I have you, sir? Please?” You beg, you need it. You want him so bad, you don’t have an ounce of regret.

“Do you think you deserve to cum?”

“I’ve been good, please, sir” You tug at the silk ties, wanting so badly to touch him as he settles down between your thighs again. You lift your head up to see him looking up at you as he kisses your core. You’re overwhelmed, whimpering as he removes his fingers from you.

“That’s right, you’ve been a good girl.” He says in a low tone, you’re begging for anything he’d give you.He locks eyes with her as he licks up your cunt. You gasp, tugging once again at the ties.

“You want me, don’t you?” He says as he nuzzles against your pussy, dragging his tongue up.

“Y-Yes”

“Beg some more, let me know how badly you need this.” His fingers return, building up that delicious pace.

“Mmm..please, need your fingers too and your mouth…please, sir”

“My good girl, you beg so well. ”He snickers, flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Fuck”

“Come on princess…keep begging for me as I finger this beautiful cunt. My cunt.”

“I…mmm, fuck”

He chuckles, pulling away from you He gets off the bed, smirking. You’re a wanton, dripping mess. He has you exactly where he wants you.

“What..” You stare up at him in disbelief.

“You’re going to sit, and wait as long as I want. When you beg me properly, I’ll give you what you need, got it, y/n?” He backs away, loving how desperate you are.

“Are you kidding me?! Noah!!!”

“That’s what you get for not saying what I want to hear…” He smirks. He walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“You fucking asshole!! Noah!” You thrash against the silk ties, your heart is pounding. You can’t get away. You’re fucked. Oh god, so fucked.

(OH MY GOD AHHHH DON’T HATE ME)

Taglist: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

[thanotaphobia]

look i guess i'm a big fan of woobifying characters as much as the next guy but i am so fascinated by tramilton "troy" lougferd and the fact that he is, objectively, a terrible person. like this is the type of guy to get off on a manslaughter charge after killing someone in a bar fight because his dad paid off the judge. he's constantly saying in-universe microaggressions, is selfish, narcissistic (and i do not use that term lightly!), spoiled, arrogant, and just kind of an all-around dick! he has his moments of showing concern for others, sure, but he's also a fantastic liar and manipulator (see: his first meeting with blink). it's so interesting how the majority of fan content about him so far is either ooo baa troy so stupid troy math or headcanons about him being clockwork/autistic. there's very little reaction towards his more problematic qualities, which he has in SPADES. and arguably are the most interesting part of him!

i can't wait to see him get worse before he gets better ahohoho