#warnings: manipulation

[kflixnet]

Check out our member Lexi's headcanons!

break ups with nct dream

♡ nct dream ﹒ gender neutral!reader genre angst warnings break ups, unhealthy coping, insecurities, some members dont think of themselves very highly, unintentional manipulation maybe ?? ( library )

mark who can’t stop pretending like everything’s fine. mark who is for once thankful of his busy schedule. because when his mind isn’t preoccupied, he finds it always going back to you. now, you only come to his mind late at night when he’s about to fall asleep only to wake up in four hours for yet another schedule. there’s a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he realizes the heartbreak is just as fresh as it was the moment it happened. thinks he let you go to easy but also respects you too much to argue. at this time, he’d be too busy talking to you on the phone to fall asleep. something he used to momentarily regret the next day, but now something he yearns for. he turns around and begs hypos to let him sleep.

renjun who wants to scream at the world and god and ask why is this happening. renjun who refuses to talk about it. he doesn’t understand what happened. he thought you guys were doing perfectly fine. you seemed happy, anyway. he can’t tell if he was just too blind to see that you actually were unhappy or if you were just a good actor. he finds himself thinking about what you’re doing, even when he’s busy. he misses you so bad that he’s so angry that you left. he gets even angrier when he sees you with another guy a couple weeks later. but he’s more angry at himself for letting you go. he thinks it’s easier to be angry than upset.

jeno who cries and then gets his emotions out at the gym. jeno who hits the punching bag so hard it manages to fall off the chain. he moves onto the wall next. he ignores the concerned stares from others about the bruises and split knuckles, but is the exact same otherwise. he thinks he’s doing okay, getting his emotions out in the form of his fists, because at least he’s still doing what he needed to do, right? he’s fine, he swears. when he’s laying in bed alone, he can’t help but wonder what you’re up to and type up a message that accidentally seems too much like a booty call. u up? wyd?

haechan who doesn’t have the energy to be his normal self. haechan who is too quiet, blends in with the walls when he’s normally the life of the party. his voice is literally hoarse from crying and begging you to stay for so long. he sends countless messages to you, enough to the point where you blocked him. people wonder where he is only to find out he’s been right next to them the entire time, thoughts consuming him. he spends time overthinking every decision he made in the last six months that led you to break up with him. he can’t find one. it must be him, though. you’d never break up with him without a reason, right? he wasn’t good enough for you, so he has to be better. and with that, he gets off his ass and forces himself into the conversation. he will be better, for you.

jaemin who is so mature when you bring it up. jaemin who doesn’t cry or act like he’s upset about it in front of others. people think he never loved you with the way he acts. that couldn’t be far from the truth. the only way he’ll grieve over your relationship is in his room, alone, with his babies. he accepts your decision, but the what if’s consume his thoughts. what if he hadn’t done that one thing you got angry at him for? what if he hadn’t missed your anniversary date? but he knows he was a good boyfriend, too. he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over you, doesn’t want to, but he knows he has to. he can only hope that you two will find each other later in life.

chenle who fights harder than he’s ever fought. chenle who wants to work it out. ultimately, you win. he cannot help but be a little bit pissed on how difficult you’re being, how you refuse to talk it out and avoid him. he doesn’t even know what happened. he doesn’t think you’re going to stay broken up so he doesn’t even bother shedding a tear. he thinks it’ll be something you two will laugh and then bicker about in fifty years. thinks you’re trying to make him jealous when you try to move on, and it works. doesn’t think before finally cornering you. he gave you your space, now it’s time for you to give him the answers he wants.

jisung who doesn’t understand the concept of space. jisung who has attachment issues. he’ll text you “good morning” and “good night” and tell you about his day without thinking about it because it’s like a routine for him by now. feels so bad and accidentally makes you feel bad for him with his countless apologies. will tweet about you on his priv and forget you’re still on there. doesn’t even want to think about you moving on, and him moving on is out of the question. he truly thought you were his soulmate, but he wanted you to come back to him in your own terms. he’ll spend forever making it up to you, anyway.

[dangeroustaintedflawed]

[egophiliac]

I loved your drawing(and I love your style in general) with Leia in your recent post! If/when you have time can we see more of her in your style? I get so happy whenever I actually see people mention/talk about her and she’s not just forgotten because we didn’t get to see much of her. 😭

thank you! 💙💙💙 Leia/Leah/Lea/whatever is fascinating to me. she is the ultimate unknown. what was she like? how involved (or even aware of any details of the invasion) was she? Silver's basically a physical carbon copy of his biodad, so what did he get from her? like, I understand why the two of them kind of have to stay as these super vague and mysterious figures -- the whole point of them is that their story ended 400+ years ago and they're not really relevant anymore (and. well. the more that gets explained about them, the less that can just kinda be handwaved as "oh the politics were Very Messy") (we can sit here and theorize all day but let us acknowledge that, ultimately, canon gave us almost nothing about them post-Meleanor and we'd just be making things up). I do still wonder about her though! RIP Lea, we never knew you and we probably never will.

actually you know what, as long as we're here, I think I WILL go ahead and just make some stuff up about what Silver might've inherited from her instead.

[kflixnet]

Check out our member Coco’s oneshot!

in another life.

lee heeseung x f!reader x ??? (it’ll make sense when you read I promise)

SYNOPSIS: in which losing you is the least of heeseung’s worries, until he’s forced to watch you slip through his fingers.

wc: 1.9k (almost 2k fr)!

genres: best friends to strangers, unrequited love (or is it), best friends to lovers

warning(s): heavy angst, toxic friendship/relationship, heeseung is mean, very very mean, manipulation (nothing too crazy), refusal to take blame, and heeseung needs to be humbled imo…ANYWAYS, small plot twist but not really! (a/n: header is ugly because I made it in like 2 minutes since it felt naked without one 🤣☝🏽)

Lee Heeseung knows about your feelings for him at  the mere age of eight, when you give him the other half of your popsicle stick that you’ve just bought with your very own allowance. His smile is so bright taking the food from your hand that it doesn’t even matter if you’ve spent all five of your dollars on the popsicle because as long as your youthful heart can see Heeseung smile, that’s all that matters to you.

Heeseung also knows about your feelings for him when you’re both sixteen and he proudly exclaims that he’s finally asked Jisun out after months of pining after her. A hurt look flashes across your face for one, two then three seconds, then as if it was never there, it’s gone. He thinks it might have been a bad idea to tell you but he doesn’t reciprocate the feelings you have for him and in his mind, he never will. 

Keep reading

[weird-coby-core]

Jul 25, 2024

[kflixnet]

Check out our member Ally's oneshot!

Tornado Warnings | Eric Sohn

SUMMARY: you have sworn that you would never get involved with the campus fuckboy, Eric Sohn. however, you have decided one day that enough was enough, and you would sacrifice yourself and ignore all of the tornado warnings that were clearly tearing you apart.

PAIRING: fuckboy!Eric x f!reader

GENRE: angst, suggestive, slight fluff

WARNINGS: nc-17, frat parties 😃, alcohol consumption, the sexual tension here is strong yall oops, fuckboy Eric...need i say more than that 😁, he is flirty af, he is umm shirtless at one scene 😀, cheating & playing with one's feelings (don't do that irl folks), petnames (babe, princess), name-calling (again, its horrible don't do that), reader walks in on Eric making out with someone at one point 👀, kissing, making out, teasing, arguments, slight manipulation, reader ignores her own feelings/well-being for months but eventually faces them

WORD COUNT: 3,604

A/N: back with another release for the emails i can't send fwd: series with @sanaxo-o, and this is written for @mosviqu ✨ happiest birthday bar, i tried my best and i really hope you liked this!! 💓 thankiew my dearest 妹妹 @sungbeam for giving me ideas & helping me beta (along with @drunkdrazed emma & sana) i love yall always 🥹💗 also tagging other eric mooties for this 👀 @itsbeeble @kimsohn

This will be the last time I’ll ever do this again.

You have been repeating that to yourself over the past several months, constantly reminding yourself that you will never get into a messed-up relationship again. At least, that’s what you thought about before you were brought back to reality, where you’re standing on the front porch of a party location for the night.

Why exactly was that? Frankly, you had no idea yourself.

But there was only one way to find out: to enter the frat party that catered to the seniors for the night. You pretty much knew most of the people here since they were students who belonged to your batch.

Instead of carrying out your usual routine, go to find your deskmate in psych, who was the one who often dragged you out from your bubble to parties like this, and have a couple of drinks before passing out on one of the couches towards the end of the room; you decided to do the complete opposite tonight.

You walked straight towards the outdoor pool area, where most students were holding their glasses of cocktails and dancing around the pool. Some were enjoying their time playing in the waters. You had one goal in mind: to walk straight towards the other end and to find him.

Sure enough, he was there lying on one of the sunloungers with his favourite whiskey in hand while a few girls were hovering around him, touching his bare chest. You couldn’t care less about that since you already knew this was his norm.

But now it was your time with him, and you boldly made your way towards him, standing right before him before he ushered the other girls away. He allowed you to crawl up to him before settling down on his lap, and he rested his free hand on your waist.

“Hey babe, I have been waiting for you since forever,” he grinned before leaning towards you while resting his fingers on your chin.

Instead of giving him a reply, you stared deeply into his eyes before wrapping your arms around his neck, making the male rest his thumb on your lips to part them. “Look at you, already missing my touch so bad. We’ve only just bumped into each other this morning on campus.”

Once again, not a single word left your mouth, but eventually, you decided to lean in to close the gap between you both before sealing your lips with his. The kiss was messy, and you were slowly savouring the leftover alcohol that was on his lips, slowly getting drunk by the way his lips moved against yours as if he knew exactly which spot to get to.

You have lost count of how many times you have made out, and Eric Sohn knew you from A to Z, especially when it comes to playing around with your feelings and emotions.

He was the campus fuckboy, after all.

Flashback

“Y/N! You won’t believe what just happened.” Your roommate Naomi came rushing through your front door, not even bothering to close it before she frantically entered your bedroom.

“Woah, what’s up? And why exactly is your face flushed red?” You asked.

“What else would it be? Obviously, it’s about the guy we all hate to the depths of the earth’s core!” She yelled, placing both hands on either side of her hips before she began rhythmically tapping her feet.

As soon as you heard the word “guy,” you knew exactly who she was referring to—someone you had sworn to never get caught up with again.

Eric Sohn.

“Let me guess, he had a one-night stand with one of our acquaintances,” you announced with crossed arms.

“Not just an acquaintance, Y/N. It’s Stella-”

Upon hearing that name, you immediately stood up from your chair, dropped some of your lecture notes, and made a mess on your tidied-up bedroom floor. Anger began rising rapidly within you, and you had to try your best to contain yourself and not make a scene before your neighbour started complaining about your specific unit for the nth time this month.

“Not Stella,” you fumed.

“Oh yes he did, Y/N. And things are not looking good right now.”

“Please God, tell me she’s alright,” you pleaded with Naomi, shaking her shoulders. But it seemed your roommate wouldn’t spill the tea that easily.

“It’s best if you check it out yourself,” your roommate silently mumbled before you dashed out the door and grabbed your coat frantically to go see whatever mess he had done this time.

And you hoped that it wasn’t as bad as the previous one.

You were now supporting Stella upright as she tried to position herself directly in front of the sink and calm herself down after having too many drinks than her usual intake. You absolutely hated how your friend—well, former friend—got Stella as messed up as he did to the other girls.

You and Eric went all the way back to kindergarten, where you had always known that there was this little boy who would often cry every single day all because he knew that he wasn’t going to see his parents for a couple of hours, and would try all sorts of methods to convince that he wasn’t fit to enter the school’s compound.

Naturally, everyone knew and labelled him as the “crybaby” and just didn’t really know how to interact with him much.

In the beginning, you reacted the same way with the other kids, thinking that he would eventually grow out of it and decide to mind your own business. However, it came a day when the kids were paired up for a little mini-activity, and that was when you got the infamous boy himself.

Contradicting what the others said about him, he was a jovial and happy-go-lucky kid. In fact, he was the one who helped bring you out of your bubble and made it easier for you to go around meeting new friends. He would often link his arms with you as you walked down the school halls daily, which made the other kids label you two as a couple.

Frankly, you didn’t mind all that because you enjoyed his company. In reality, you often looked forward to being paired up with him again for another activity or sport. After that experience, he would often make his way towards your desk, eat his bento boxes with you during meals, and show off the pretty animal-themed meals his mother had made especially for him.

You often giggled at how he would talk about himself all the time, and it was just mesmerising to see the joy and look on his face whenever he spoke of himself. Adding on to that, he was definitely taught well at home with the way he would go all-out to make friends with others during school hours and help them out in any circumstances possible. He was no longer the “crybaby” that everyone once labelled him as.

Things were going well until one day, his family decided to leave for the States. To say that you were sad about your friend leaving would’ve been an understatement—you were devastated. Not only was he the very first friend you made in kindergarten, but you also felt as if he was your soulmate since he knew everything about you and had never once done nor said the wrong thing that made you upset.

During that time, Eric couldn’t say much either since you were both still young, so he had no choice but to leave with his family. On the very last day when he was in Seoul though, he made sure to give you the tightest hug and place multiple pecks all over your face, promising you that fate would reunite you both someday.

That day eventually came, but you never would have expected to reunite with him the way you did after all these years.

You were both 22, casually entering your second year of university before you encountered the man himself. You were shocked, to say the least, when he first stepped into the lecture hall—his hair was fully blonde, he had several tattoos all over his body, and every girl swooned over him.

He was now a hot mess.

The Eric Sohn you once knew was far gone because the one here was nowhere near the little boy you admired back in kindergarten. Word often spread quickly in college, so you frequently heard about his little date nights with multiple women and his so-called “flavor of the month.”

He was one of the wealthier students on campus, hosting house parties almost once every month. These parties attracted quite the crowd, causing a more ever-present distinction between them and students like you and your roommates—the goody-two-shoes who prioritised studies more than drinking and making out with different people in one night.

That was until he got involved in your affairs.

It all started with him dating one of the girls within your circle, and it ended horribly, to the point that the student herself decided to cut all ties with everyone and isolate herself either in the library or in the comforts of her apartment all the time.

It took you a while to figure out what happened before you could get the girl to talk it out. He was toying with her throughout the relationship, and there were no fixed boundaries or respect while they were together. He seemed unable to settle down with just one girl, and cheating was prominent throughout the entire relationship.

Unfortunately, he didn’t stop there. Multiple exes followed after that, and you’ve seen the heartbreaks he had caused throughout campus. You couldn’t believe it, or rather, you didn’t want to think this was the same soulmate you once had way back in your childhood.

It just didn’t add up.

That was until it happened to Stella.

You couldn’t believe your ears when you found out that your best friend had decided to date with your former friend. As much as you wanted to pull her out of the mess, she knew what she was getting into; who were you to judge or have a say in someone’s decision and relationship?

However, now that you’d witnessed your friend’s downfall in person, you could no longer sit back and watch your former friend continue on his sick, twisted games. So you stomped right out of the bar and walked all the way to Eric’s apartment. Thanks to Stella, you also knew his pin number to unlock the front door, and you wasted no time and quickly barged into the compound.

Sure enough, you found him making out with another girl on his couch, and both of them were definitely surprised to see a random girl going into his apartment without prior notice. The girl under your former fried began grilling him some questions, but all Eric did was stare back at you, eyeing you from head to toe.

In the end, he kindly dismissed the girl for the night before closing the front door and walking straight towards you, now standing a few centimetres away from you.

“It’s been a while, Y/N. To what do I owe the pleasure? Have you been alright?”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Sohn. You know exactly why I’m here,” you spat, trying to contain the anger and fumes that were slowly rising.

Instead, your reaction intrigued the man, and he returned the favour by smiling at you, one that you knew wasn’t going to end well.

“What does Stella got to do with you, hmm? Unless you’re jealous-”

“Jealous? Don’t make me laugh; I’m here to put you right in your place, mister.” You stomped right towards him and shoved him against the wall, cornering him with both your hands beside his head. “I don’t know what the hell happened when you were in the States, but I surely did not anticipate such behaviour from you after all these years.”

Eric quietly stared at you for a few moments before he lifted his thumb and rested it on your lips, which made you twitch at the contact. “You know, Y/N. There’s this joy in seeing how so many people around you want you. It’s fun and quite thrilling if you ask me.” He was now smacking his lips, and you knew he would make advances if you didn’t stop him there.

Hence, you smacked his hands away before grabbing onto his collar. “Your time playing with innocent girls is up, Sohn. Leave them the hell alone,” you snarled.

“Hmm, what makes you think I’d listen to you?”

You were now put in a bind spot. There was no denying those words that Eric had just spat right into your face. You had no control over him, and hell, even if you were part of the student council, you couldn’t do anything since he wasn’t posing as a threat to the other students.

Another factor was that he was well-loved by the students, particularly female students on campus since he was the guy that everyone wished they could elope with after all. It must be a joke for the fuckboy to listen to your proposal, thinking that you’ll ever have hopes of changing the guy.

But something in you snapped, and you couldn’t care less about the methods you would try to pull off.

Even if that meant sacrificing yourself.

“If I were to date you and meet your needs, you leave the other girls alone.”

That came as a shock to Eric; never in a million years would he have thought you would suggest something like this. You have always been a goody-two-shoes from kindergarten until university. He was well aware of your group of friends: the library was where you would visit most frequently, and you would be back in the dormitories by ten at night.

It took him a while to respond properly, and you weren’t just going to stand there and wait all night, so you did the impossible and pulled him down towards you.

You locked your lips with his.

It all happened so fast, and the anger and frustration prevented you from rationalising your thoughts and making you do what you had done. If you would’ve told yourself that you would lose your first kiss to your former friend turned campus fuckboy, you would’ve immediately jumped off the nearest cliff off campus.

As soon as you pulled away, a smirk appeared on his face, and he quickly turned the tables so that you were now pinned against the wall, his hands travelling down to your waist before licking his lips once again.

“Whatever you say, princess.”

This whole situationship went on for months, and you were slowly losing your sanity each day. Eventually, you slowly began to give into his urges, playing along with his little games if that meant keeping your friends safe.

Nobody understood why you did it, especially your roommates and circle of friends. Naomi would constantly remind you about all of the horrible things that he did, and you would one hundred percent regret getting involved in his affairs. But if that meant keeping your friends safe and unharmed, you would do it ten times over.

Hence, there is a change in your daily routine: meet up with Eric every day after lectures and accompany him either to the local bars or the comforts of his apartment, and stay the night there whenever it gets too late for you to return to your own. You really didn’t mind it at all since you had a roof over your head and you were safe in his arms.

At least that was what you convinced yourself it would be.

His fuckboy demeanour didn’t stop there, and he would often be seen hanging out and flirting with the other girls. But there was a drastic difference this time: he knew exactly when to draw the line and chose not to advance further than that.

As much as your circle of friends would constantly remind you about all the terrible things Eric had done, you convinced yourself that if he doesn’t see them, then they probably didn’t exist after all.

But one question still remains: Are you really okay with everything unfolding in front of your eyes?

Was lying to yourself about your actual feelings worth it for the sake of your friends? And was going into this despite ignoring all the tornado warnings worth it in the long run?

End of flashback

“Hey babe, is everything alright?”

You were brought back to reality with Eric rubbing off a little teardrop that flowed down to your cheeks, not realising that you had been consumed with your thoughts so much that you actually cried in front of him.

You were at a loss for words and couldn’t pinpoint why that was either. All you did was gently touch the area he had just wiped off before you felt your eyes begin to water again.

This time, Eric genuinely seemed concerned and cupped your face gently with his hands for the very first time since you both started this entire messed-up situationship months ago.

“I don’t know…I don’t even know why I’m here tonight, Eric,” you began sobbing but tried to hide your tears by choking back them. Why am I like this? Why do I keep doing this with you, knowing my feelings are not validated or ignored? Why did it have to be you?”

You couldn’t care less if people around you began giving you the side-eye, seeing that a girl was sitting on top of Eric in the midst of the frat party sobbing uncontrollably. You have held it in for far too long, ignoring all the warnings your friends have constantly tried to ingrain in your mind.

You got yourself into this situation; you should’ve known that you were getting yourself into trouble when you proposed that idea to him. You should’ve known that you were going to get your heart broken-

Before you could continue with those thoughts, you felt a little peck on your forehead, only to open your eyes to see that Eric had left a little mark right there, closing his eyes to cherish that short moment before pulling away.

“Did that help?” He asked, once again rubbing your red puffy cheeks with his thumbs.

“Eric…why would you…” you sniffed.

“I realised something, Y/N. While I was with you for the past several months.”

“W-What exactly was that?”

“I’m well aware of the things people call me. I know all about the red flags people say about me; frankly, I’ve done some screwed-up shit and brought myself into this messy situation. I know you decided to date me for the sake of your friends, and it’s very brave of you to do that, despite knowing the hurt and harm that would prevail when getting together with me. But that’s not my point-”

He cuts himself off by positioning himself upright on the sunlounger he was lying on, now holding both sides of your shoulders before taking a deep breath to proceed with what he was about to say to you.

“Y/N. You’ve shown me how friends would stand up for each other in a situation like this and how all of these games that I’ve been playing for so long aren’t going to last forever. Emotions are something that shouldn’t be taken lightly, and you shedding actual tears in front of me proved more than enough for me to make my final judgement,” he huffed, knowing that it wasn’t easy for him to get those words off his chest.

Eric began mumbling a few words before he finally decided he was ready to say them out loud to you. “Y/N, will you teach me how to love?”

Your eyes widened upon those words coming out from him; it felt as if you were looking right at the same boy back in kindergarten, your soulmate and childhood best friend. The sudden wave of nostalgia came rushing over you, and you tried your best to hold those tears back as you needed to properly hear him say the words you wanted to hear for the longest time.

“What are you saying, Eric?”

“it is exactly that, Y/N. I’m…trying my best to muster up the courage to say that out loud to you right now. I know you’d probably laugh at my face,” he chuckled. “A guy like me asking the girl who he's been taking advantage of to teach him actual love? Yeah, I’m insane for all of that, I know-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you sealed his lips with a kiss, pushing him back down the lounger, savouring the taste of his lips. Eric returned the favour and deepened the kiss by wrapping his arms around you, his fingers running through your long, wavy hair while he was at it before pulling it apart for some air after a good minute.

“W-What was that for?” He stammered.

With that, you finally gave him a genuine smile for the first time since reuniting with him here on campus. “Welcome back, Eric Sohn.”

In the end, you both burst into laughter, enjoying that little moment together before resting your forehead against his. “So, I’m taking this as a yes? That you accept my proposal?”

You chuckled before ruffling his hair with your hands.

“Maybe if you take me out on a skateboard date the next time, I’ll consider it done, Mr. Tornado Warnings.”

emails i can't send fwd: series masterlist

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[ironandglass]

The Descent - Chapter 1 - Second Circle

Silco x female reader dark slow burn modern au. Stalker Silco.

A strange man moves into the apartment across from yours, he likes to watch and you start to like him watching. What could go wrong?

Warnings: stalking, violence, trauma, home invasion, sexual assault, threats, fear, panic, robbery, weapons, gun, romanticised toxic behaviour, toxic relationships, power dynamics, mental health probably, sex mention, swearing, bad editing (notsorry), evil silco, dark Silco, cold Silco. He’s not gentle and sweet ya feel? No jinx in this storyline bc I don’t know how to share. 🤷‍♀️

Chapter one

Second Circle

You peek out through the cheap venetian blinds to see him, leaning on his balcony railing, in the building directly opposite yours. Smoking cigarettes and watching.

He was always watching your apartment. You'd noticed it a few weeks after he had moved in. He made no effort to hide his blatant voyeurism. It seemed you had captured his attention somehow and that unsettled you. Living in the city for as long as you had meant you were no stranger to such things but something about his boldness made you especially uneasy. Some instinct in your gut warning you that this creep was not a typical window licking, peeping tom.

Yet, as the months pass you start to ignore that instinct. He makes no move other than to passively watch, so you try to keep your curtains closed and ignore him as best you can.

--

Sometimes your thoughts would turn to the bizarreness of the situation. This stranger who watched you. You had recently, and playfully started to consider that it was quite flattering actually. Saying to yourself that this was an admission of your value that anybody should pay that much interest in you.

Joking about it made you feel more in control, it took away the sting of fear and unsureness.

"My good lookin guy, very good at looking." you would mutter when you noticed him.

Despite all the jokes, In a strange way, it did make you feel special.

--

One night you were too drunk to notice that your windows and curtains were wide open as you rolled your hips on top of the nameless man that you'd procured from a nearby dive bar to satisfy your needs for the night.

You opened your eyes as you got close, relishing the rising anticipation of your hard earned, imminent orgasm. Bliss rises up your spine as you look out at the city lights panting and moaning shamelessly in a drunken haze.

Then you notice him, watching intently from his balcony through the large glass window of your modern apartment.

His eyes meet yours and you climax hard. Your orgasm ripping across your being with a quaking intensity you hadn't experienced for a long, long time.

--

After that, you dress and undress each morning and each evening, letting him see, going out of your way even to make sure he had a good view.

You start buying lingerie and sexy pyjamas to wear around the house.

If anyone ever asked you, you could never explain why you encouraged this. Other than admitting that you simply enjoyed the attention. There was something about being watched that seemed so harmless, a safe way to tease and taunt the man. His desire seemed to give you a strange confidence. You enjoyed ignoring him, pretending that you never even noticed he was there. That was part of the game for you.

He stood dutifully on his balcony for the show each morning, knowing your routine, chaining cigarettes, eyes like a wolf. Sometimes he missed the afternoon showing, you were always secretly disappointed.

--

You’re out of your usual routine one morning, running late. You walk out onto the street just as he is walking out of his apartment at the same time. You both freeze, like two mirrors across the road from each other. His considering gaze catches your own for a long moment before you panic, breaking the spell as you turn away down the street.

He doesn't follow.

--

In bed.

Your eyes snap open.

CCCCCRRUNCHHH

You're up.

You run towards the sound.

Splintering wood.

Your front door - It's being kicked in.

You scream but it's cut short as a massive man, unfamiliar, bursts inside, gun trained on you. Your heart beats a frantic rhythm as you look down the barrel of the weapon, frozen in terror, blubbering appeasingly.

Everything becomes a blur, suddenly, finding yourself giving any answers asked of you.

Briefly, over the muscular shoulder of the intruder you see your watcher across the way, holding a phone to his ear. Is he seeing all this? You hope he's calling the police. Who knew your sick games with this pervert would pay off. You would be more amazed if you weren't so absolutely afraid for your life.

The large invader riffles through your valuables. He drags you roughly by your upper arm like a rag doll from room to room, taking your laptop, jewellery and your purse.

He pushes you away demanding you stand against the back wall while he does a final sweep, roughly tearing cabinets open and swiping through your cupboards. You pray he will just leave but when he finishes his quick search instead of the door he wheels towards you. Eyes gleaming as if he just noticed that you are in fact worthy of his consideration.

Something in his eyes makes you step back into the picture frame behind you as he approaches.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, pinning you against the wall with his body. Running the tip of the cold metal gun slowly from your temple, down your neck, to rest just in between your cleavage.

"If I had more time I'd steal a lot more from you sweetness." The threat trailing his warm breath over your face.

With a gut wrenching start you realise you can feel his hard cock pressed against you through his pants.

He grabs your face with one hand, thick fingers holding your jaw as he forces your eyes up to his. "Too bad." He says as if you are missing out on a special treat. He pulls away from you smirking and backs out of the room, gun still trained on you.

"Next time" he says blowing a kiss before striding out the front door.

—

After the burglar leaves you wait, frozen in place for a short while, shaken and gently sobbing before running out into the street. You look left and right and who should be leaning against the bricks on the sidewalk out the front but your ever vigilant watcher.

You run across the road towards him and he looks shocked momentarily, taking a step back away from your rapid frantic approach before you shamelessly wrap your arms around him hugging him and crying. Needing support from someone, anyone.

Hadn't he always been there?

Slowly, unsurely he wraps his arms around you, reciprocating.

"Its okay" he says, his voice is pleasant. A low vibrating rumble against you.

"I called the Police, I'll wait with you."

He keeps one arm wrapped around you, rubbing patterns along your back soothingly as he receives a call with the other. It sounds like he's talking to police, here he was just handling this for you. Taking care of it as if it were his own problem.

When the police arrive you are still crying gently in his arms.

"Is this your... girlfriend Sir?"

"Yes." He says not skipping a beat. Okay that was strange, maybe he’s just trying to make it seem … not as strange as it actually is?

When he gives a statement he gives his name as Silco. You realise then, you are just now learning his name, he already seems to know yours which gives you pause, you had never spoken to him. But you weren't really in any position to worry about that having already thrown yourself at the man.

—

Police pour into your home, taking fingerprints and photographs. Its not long before one of the forensic team approaches you on the street and explains it might be a while before you could return home, definitely not till tomorrow morning at the earliest.

"Oh, thank you." You say, still quite shocked.

At this news you finally unwrap yourself from the stranger now known as Silco. Starring blankly out in the street you stifle a yawn feeling exhausted now that all of the adrenalin had worn off.

Embarrassment starts to sneak in, should you apologise to him? You wonder, turning your eyes up to his.

He looks down at you thoughtfully, as if you are a problem he needs to solve.

"Would you like to come in for a warm drink while you wait?" He asks gesturing towards his apartment across the road. His manner is cold and calculating but his actions had been nothing but generous and kind. It was a confounding combination.

You look up towards his apartment, probably not the best idea but you agree with a nod.

The thrill of the situation and the shock of the home invasion made everything seem less insane and more reasonable.

"I'd like that... thank you." You admit gratefully.

--

In his nice, high end apartment he stands across from you behind the kitchen island where you sit perched on a high stool.

He meticulously prepares you a warm drink before making some coffee for himself.

"It's a shame that we're finally meeting under such unsavoury circumstances." He says gently, pouring steaming liquid into a glass coffee mug.

You smile gently pushing a marshmallow around in your hot chocolate.

"As opposed to our usual unsavoury circumstances?" You laugh gently before sighing and resting your cheek against your hand.

"I like our thing." You confess keeping your eyes low.

"Me too." He replies softly before bringing the cup to his lips.

It felt good, to hear him say that.

Still, you knew how dangerous this was. Despite how comfortable you felt right now, there was something not right about this man, an air of malevolence (but that was thrilling too).

“Do you… “ you falter, unsure if you should continue but when you raise your eyes up to his one eyebrow quirks up, as if waiting patiently.

You clear your throat trying to rally your courage.

“Do you… watch other people?” You ask, almost instantly regretting it.

He takes another sip of his coffee, calm, unhurried.

His eyes never leave you. You struggle against the urge to squirm in the silence.

His focus on you was always so intense. Of course you enjoyed it, but being in a room together now, up close. It was something else, hot, fierce, like standing too close to the fire.

“I think that you want me to say no.” He murmers, eyes gleaming as he steps back away from you. Slowly, deliberately making his way around the long marble kitchen island that separates you both.

“I think, you enjoy my attention.” He continues, his lazy gait, unhurried on the tiled floor.

“I think you crave it.” his shoe clicks on the tiles, closer now.

He places a hand next to your hot cocoa, palm flat on the counter and leans in.

His other hand stays at his side, controlled.

“I think you enjoy being… just, out of reach.” He says closing in on you.

He leans in slowly, inch by inch, his breath brushes your cheek. Your heartbeat stutters. His lips near your ear.

“Just you.”

You stop breathing, the words settle on your skin, like ash. Hot, final, branded.

You don't move, his breath is still warm on your cheek.

Then he turns away, without a word. He walks towards the coat rack shrugging on a dark winter coat, it looks custom, fitted, clean.

You watch in silence as he walks back over towards you and grabs some of his personal items from a bowl on the counter.

He slides a key over the marble towards you with a shhhk.

“This is a spare key, you may come and go as you please.”

You stare at it.

“Are you… leaving?” the question feels louder than expected.

He doesn't answer at first, checking his phone.

”I have work.” he says simply.

“The spare room at the end of the hall is made up as a guest room. You’re welcome to stay while I'm out”

You nod slowly, processing this before asking.

“What … time do you usually come home?”

He pauses.

“Five ... Maybe six”

“AM?” You ask.

His eyes flick up.

“Yes"

That's all, Just one syllable. Heavy as stone.

He turns towards the door.

“Wait!” You call after him, stepping forward and reaching out, catching his coat sleeve.

“Thank you.” You say, meaning it, trying to show it with your eyes.

“It is nothing.” He says looking away and gently, but firmly pulling his arm away from you.

You watch his back disappear through the door. It closes slowly with a click.

Silence.

—

The spare room is immaculate, almost clinical, clean, comfortable and impersonal. Like a hotel room.

You go to the ensuite bathroom and splash water on your face, wincing when you see the large dark bruise blooming on your arm where you'd been dragged from room to room like a ragdoll. Helpless.

You quickly turn away from the mirror, and lay on top of the bed instead. You stare at the ceiling, mind racing, a deep sigh deflates you.

After about fifteen minutes, tossing and turning, you give in.

Of course you need to look in his room. Just in case there is some kind of creepy shrine dedicated to you, surrounded by candles or something.

You push the large door open, walking in to see black silk sheets on a large bed. You scrunch your nose at how typical it was of a wealthy strange man. His large walk in robe is filled only with fine clothing, all in shades of black and red. No shrine. You pick a discarded business shirt up off the edge of a laundry hamper and for some reason, you bring it to your face and inhale.

It smelled like cigarettes and aftershave and a subtle, spicy body odour. You knew this was weird of you but you were staying in your stalkers house after someone just threatened your life so you also felt like if there was a time you deserved a pass, it was now.

Through the long hallway of his walk in robe was the entrance to his bathroom, refined, spacious, stylish.

You’re pretty impressed by this point, and smile as you make your merry way back through to his bedroom. Now fully committed to disrespectful hedonism, you climb on to his bed and lay down with your head on the pillows. Sprawled out on top of the silk sheets you’re annoyed to admit they feel really nice.

Then you accidentally take a moment to let yourself think about everything that had happened in the last few hours. How blindsided you had felt, how helpless.

This time the tears well up in your eyes and you start to cry uncontrollably. The sadness and fear of what you had experienced pour out of you in shuddering, loud, uncontrollable weeping. You cry for a long long time, curled up on the black silk sheets, trembling as you weep. Staining them with your salted tears and smothering yourself in the scent of the strange man that watched you undress from across the road.

—

Silco comes home early, having delegated out as much work as feasible. It had been a long night, despite finally having held the woman of his desires in his arms for the first time. He sighs as he shrugs his slender shoulders out of his fitted coat, hanging it up on the rack before striding over to empty his pockets into the bowl on the kitchen counter. Noticing the half empty hot chocolate mug you had left in place, he pauses thoughtfully.

Turning his gaze up towards the hall where the spare room was.

He hesitates for a second before quietly and slowly padding up the hallway, he places a hand carefully on the doorknob and turns it, opening the door just enough to see...

Ah. It’s empty, she’s gone.

Of course, it was sensible and probably even polite for her to be gone.

Silco runs his fingers up through his hair and makes his way back out into the kitchen, reaching for his cigarette case and lighter, he strolls out through one of the large glass sliding doors onto the balcony, leaning on the railing and lighting his cigarette.

He looks out towards your apartment. The curtains are wide open as usual, the place was a mess but the police had all left at least. Silco glanced at the bed, empty. The couch, also empty.

Hmmmm, he didn’t like not knowing where you were. He also didn’t like not knowing things about you. He would resolve that, if you had family members or friends nearby that you had gone to stay with, he wanted to know.

He stubbs out the cigarette and strolls back inside, swinging the door to his bedroom open he starts unbuttoning his shirt, getting ready for bed.

A small noise makes him freeze, whipping his head to finally notice you, curled up delicately in the centre of his bed.

His breath catches for a moment at the sight and he wonders at it.

How your small soft form is so vulnerable, the gentle rise and fall of your breaths.

Hand curled towards your chest.

The slight parting of your lips, so peaceful.

So close.

Then your eyes flick open.

—

Your eyes snap open to see Silco, standing across from you, unbuttoning his shirt. You panic, realising that you’d slept in his bed, and now he was undressing as he approached you?

Oh no no no he was a creep, you knew it and you shouldn’t be surprised by it but this was too much. This was crossing the line, well further over the line. A new line?

You sprang up backing out of the bed and standing with your hands raised.

“I don’t want to sleep with you!” You blurt out defensively.

“Why are you in my bed?” He asks calmly, lowering his hands, leaving the top few buttons of his shirt open.

You falter.

“I offered you the spare room, at the end of the hall.” He says sternly pointing in that direction.

“I… I” You have no defence for this. Maybe you are the creep here?

He waits for a moment tilting his head.

“You what?” He asks. “Was there a pea under the mattress?” Taunting you now.

Your mouth snaps shut with your frown and you storm past him, making your way out of the bedroom door. In times like these, the best defence was a strong offence.

He turns cooly, watching you as you pass.

“Glad I could help.” He quips, following you at a measured distance.

His words still you briefly.

You turn to him, expression angry.

“Thank you for your help.” you bark awkwardly.

He gives a slight incline of the head. No more than that.

Then you storm out the door doing your best not to slam it like a child.

Definitely not your best work.

--

After the door shuts, Silco exhales through his nose in amusement.

"Her pride has teeth" he thinks, "but no aim."

Retreating into his room, he lays down, fully clothed on his bed, inhaling deeply.

It smells like her.

End.

——

Thanks for reading 🔪📖🖤

I have been really enjoying writing this so I hope you dig it!

Also- there’s A LOT more of it already written, so if you want more, let me know and I’ll try and make time to edit it sooner.

<3 Iron

—

>>>Continue on to Chapter two

Bonus - Chapter 2 teaser Silco POV short

[imstillsane]

[l-in-the-light]

About his "trigger warnings"

I mentioned here on tumblr that I used to have a number one favourite book writer. I guess not anymore. After all the SA allegations and other stories that got leaked by people around him (his collegues, co-workers etc.), I realized he's an abusive asshole and I owe you all to say that openly here. And some of the assaults date back decades now, which means he didn't just wake up one day and changed into an asshole, he most likely was always one.

I read the foreword to his book Trigger Warning again. I feel like I took a peek beyond his fake persona there. He writes about trigger warnings like it's some exotic curious little trend that kids on the internet came up with, finds it a bit peculiar like a daddy trying to understand their kid's hobbies, then proceeds to use them like a funny teasers for his short stories ("can you find the big tentacle hidden among the pages somewhere?"), only to finish it all up with a punch straight to your face: real life doesn't have trigger warnings, so always watch out for yourself. On the surface level? This all sounds like a slightly misguided, maybe even witty intro. Nothing is said with malice, right? And yet, the message underneath it all was always to discredit trigger warnings as a concept. That's why that delivery line is at the very end of that intro. You're supposed to be lulled into agreeing how silly it all is. I dunno if he did it on purpose or did it without thinking much about it, by habit, but that intention is there and it's disguised with concern and attempts to sound kind. A peek beyond the nice guy mask. No wonder I could never finish that anthology of short stories. The cognitive dissonance caused by the foreword sticked with me like a bad aftertaste. My intuition told me this was all wrong, I just couldn't find the words to express it.

And you know why it works so well as a disguise and why we tend to believe he didn't do it on purpose? Because hey, he just said the facts, the truth! Reality indeed doesn't have any trigger warnings, what's wrong with saying that! Yes, that statement is true. Using real statements in carefully woven context to sell a lie, is an example of an excellent manipulation. So allow me to untangle it or, in other words, to reveal the magic trick behind it.

Why do trigger warnings exist? Isn't Gaiman right, aren't they counterproductive, you might think, because by avoiding triggers you will never get better at dealing with them? Indeed, here's the catch, because the answer isn't a simple yes or no here. Yes, often to recover from trauma, you need to expose yourself to it in some way - like for example, through exposure therapy (or even just classic psychotherapy). But also No, because there's no rule that says you will officially recover only after you're fine reading fiction about sexual assault (for example)! Some triggers will dimnish, some will not, and the best you can do for the latter is to avoid them altogether. Triggers are extremely personal, but you can learn to manage them, in ways that respect your own boundaries, but never by giving up your right to selfcare. You see the difference?

Back to therapy bit for a moment. To recover, often you need to go through with it. But here's the thing - you do it in *controlled environment*, accompanied by a specialist that is there to help and calm you down afterwards. And you only start to do that once you feel *ready* to face it. Now compare it to a situation of reading a book (yes, a book, which usually never has any trigger warnings, because that's such a silly fanfiction thing). You come upon your trigger without any warning, preparation or support around you, you're left with the aftermath of possible panic attack or other symptoms completely on your own. It might take you weeks to recover from it, because perhaps you weren't yet in any therapy that could help you manage your triggers more effectively. But then you tell yourself it's fine, minimizing your own emotional reactions, because *it was just a book*. But, you realize, even years later you still remember it and you might finally accept the harsh truth that you're still not fine with it.

Now imagine same situation, but the book did have trigger warnings listed. For example, about sexual abuse. You would see that and leave the bookstore without the book, because you would know you're not *ready* for that. And it's fine not to be ready, be it yet or ever. This is about consent and selfcare, both are essential to process through trauma and recover. The books without trigger warnings rob selfcare, consent and a choice from us. They teach us we should always ignore our triggers and push through. It's sadly a reality that is widely accepted so Gaiman is right, nothing in reality will flash you a warning. But he's also wrong: it doesn't mean we can't make the life a tiny bit easier for those of us who are traumatized, instead of leaving them with all of that on their very own. This part, he doesn't want you to even consider. He doesn't want you to imagine the positive side of living in a world in which real books warn you about triggers, because then it would prove that it *can* become a reality in which real things (like books) warn you of triggers. They can't shield you from everything, but that's also not the point: it's just to make some things feel more safe, for everybody.

(As a side note, being triggered is not the same as stepping outside your comfort zone - those are two different matters! Though yes, stepping outside your comfort zone in an extreme way CAN become traumatic as the result as well).

I guess Neil Gaiman just thinks some people are too sensitive and should just get over themselves. You don't need those warnings, they won't protect you anyway. Have you tried not getting traumatized? How dare you think your selfcare is more important than reading my questionable fantasies? You're missing out if you skip my book (that has no proper trigger warnings) and you have only yourself to blame! I provide you a safe environment to explore your traumatic triggers, you should be grateful! And how is your book providing a safe environment exactly, author? Did you even try to put a safety net there for your reader? Do you even care? Of course you don't. But you will pretend like you do: by providing a very ingenuine effort that is mostly meant to be a pat on your own back for cleverly dismissing the very concept of trigger warnings, while pretending to play along with it and exposing their lack of power in the process. Disguised as a coincidence, lack of understanding or unskillful attempt written by a slightly ignorant daddy-like figure. What an irony that you do it by nearly surgically focusing on the blind spots of the concept, proving at the same time you do know the mechanism behind it pretty well. You knew what you were doing and how you were doing it.

Or at least, this is how I see it: I might be wrong on the details, but I'm sure I caught the gist of the manipulative behaviour there. An abuser always wants you to step out of your comfort zone, get surprised by a trigger, and to make sure you're outside your safety net. Because then you're an easier target, more likely to agree to harmful things (be it real actions or just harmful beliefs delivered to you by the author of a book, like in case of *trigger warnings being pointless*). They want to groom you into thinking that you're just being silly and see things that aren't there.

Trigger Warning's foreword is exactly that and I feel disgusted, now that I finally recognize my own feelings about it. I probably didn't find words for it before, because I wanted to believe Gaiman had good intentions behind it, they just didn't work out very well. Except that was never the case and that's why it never felt right. That good intention was never there, but it sure *looked* like it was. Also it took me way too long to realize people do things like that on purpose. You know what, Gaiman? Thanks to gaslighting efforts like yours it took me also way too many years to accept that selfcare IS OKAY.

So many people now think nothing was ever genuine about Neil Gaiman because his nice guy mask slipped. A mask he used to hide his autism behind and appear neurotypical/feel accepted thanks to it. Whenever a really advanced mask like that slips, the cognitive dissonance becomes a huge gap between a mask and actual self in perception of other people. Still, your autism is not an excuse for things you do and say, and definitely doesn't excuse assault as simple miscommunication - and yes, he did try to justify lack of consent this way. "I'm autistic, I read the body language wrong and wasn't even aware of it". Hey, you could have, like, asked. There's no shame in getting confirmation in words :P but it's just a poor excuse anyway, the truth is he didn't care if it was wanted or not, as long as he got adoration and powertripping thrill out of that, and that's the best case scenario here.

I believe the allegations. I won't be able to read Gaiman's books anymore, I honestly can't see them the same way I used to anymore. I loved Coraline and The Graveyard Book, and Smoke and Mirrors. I feel disgusted knowing that he openly claimed to be a feminist while at the same time assaulted so many people and used emotional manipulation so they won't #metoo him. He even went as far as to claim "always believe the victims", but once the allegations flew his way, what did he do? Blamed the victims, even called them mentally ill! I also feel now like his books are also just full of deception, meant to hide harmful beliefs under quirky words and imaginative tales. And I might never be able to stop feeling this way and I don't owe him a second chance anyway.

Good Omens stays in my heart though, because sir Terry Pratchett put a lot of work into it and it shows. I feel like I would show him disrespect if I discarded it. Let's say it becomes a Gaiman Who Might Have Been But Never Was, for me.

[kflixnet]

Check out our member Sunny's text chats!!

♡ ︎txt falling out of love with you — c.sb vrs.

txt as boyfriends where they're slowly falling out of love with their s/o... | not requested! @run2seob

warnings — toxic relationships, swearing, manipulation, extreme bullying, breaking up.

genre — established relationship, angst, highschool!au

[note] — this yn *is* in the wrong, don’t get it twisted guys. they’re musty and dusty. soobin *i’d* never treat you like this. also!! if you let your friends dictate your relationship or be rude to your partner: yes! you ARE the problem.

also: uh, happy birthday soobin!! 😭

yeonjun | soobin <3 | beomgyu | taehyun | hueningkai

ᰔ choi soobin

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[barlowstreet]

I just thought of something kind of awful.

Ellie is kidnapped by a group of people, locked up, and isolated while scared out of her mind. Then the leader of that group comes in and talks to her like she's an adult. They tell her they're the reason she wasn't killed by their group and she should be grateful for that. They bring up someone she cares about and make her feel guilty about them getting hurt. They tell her that she's special and that other people aren't like her, and they ask her to do something for them they think only she can do. They don't give her a choice in the matter, really.

Who am I talking about?

Marlene or David?

[deoboyznet]

heads up! check out daisy's new piece! pls remember to reblog as always <3

✦ Day 26 - Corruption

⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Pairing: Pervy! Bestfriend Sunwoo x innocent!reader

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Word Count: 1.4K

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), corruption kink, slight manipulation (if you squint, don't read if triggering), dry humping, unprotected sex, a very pervy and kinda possessive sunwoo, ass grabbing, pet name (sweetheart, baby), let me know if I missed anything!

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: had to change the whole theme and plot for this one since I really couldn’t think at all on how to write it out BUT I still hope you like it! Wish I had more time to write it out better but here we are. This was also a combination of 3 asks that I haven't gotten to answering so here it is 😮‍💨 Proofread once

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Network: @deoboyznet

✦ Kinktober Masterlist ✦

Sunwoo loved touching you.

The way your soft hands would hold his, how you would lean your head on his shoulder, the feeling your body pressed up against his as he embraced you, he loved it all.

He loved it a little too much actually. So much to the point he thought about wanting to touch you in other places he shouldn’t be touching.

It was wrong, he knew that. But he couldn’t help himself.

He’d been dying to get his hands on you ever since you’ve become friends. But it was hard when your were such a sweet innocent little thing. He didn’t want to scare you off if he suddenly did it.

Sunwoo had to find a way to touch you. But how?

Suddenly, he remembered that it was your birthday coming up. And by coincidence he also happen to stumble upon an ad on his phone that made him grin from ear to ear.

He was gonna finally have his way with you.

“Come out sweetheart, let me see.”

“But Sunwoo I’m shy… are you sure this is okay?”

“As long as it’s on you I’m sure it’ll look beautiful I promise” You hear his muffled reassurance from behind the bathroom door.

When your best friend he had a surprise for you on your birthday you were not expecting this kind of gift at all…

You take a look at yourself for a moment, soaking in how your soft body looks covered in this really pretty laced lingerie set. He doesn’t even hide the fact that the tent in his pants are twitching just seeing you like this.

You took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled before opening the door to reveal your barely covered body.

“Sweetheart… you look fucking gorgeous.” Sunwoo says, soaking every inch of your body as he looks at you up and down. Your cheeks start to grow warm from the way he looks at you.

“Come here, I wanna take a closer look.” He motions you with his hand. You try to shield your body with your arms as you walk towards him sitting on the edge of your bed.

Sunwoo grabs you by the wrists and pulls you to straddle his lap, one hand tracing the patterned laced on your bra as the other hand rests on your lower back.

Your breath hitches at his bulge slightly nudging your core, making you feel something strange growing at the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck just look at you… I could almost eat you up-” His hands now slowly roaming your body, trying to make you ease into his touch.

When he shifts his position for a moment, you feel his bulge nudge you again. You let out a very faint whimper by accident, eyes growing wide from embarrassment.

But all you could see was Sunwoo’s mischievous smirk, knowing exactly what you’re feeling at this moment.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” He holds your chin up to look into your eyes as his other hand starts massaging your ass.

“C’mon, you can always tell me.” He whispers.

“I feel k-kinda weird...” You whisper back.

“Where does it feel weird? Point it out to me-” He asks. You start to become shy at first, wondering if this is something your best friend should even know about. You slowly move your hand to direct his gaze at your core.

“Oh, I see. So… if I move you like this-” Sunwoo places both hands on your waist and pulls you forward, making your core rub against his bulge once again. You gasp at the feeling as it nudges your core even deeper.

“Y-yeah. I don’t know what it is.” You look at him with worried eyes.

“Sweetheart, it’s not a weird feeling at all. It should feel good… Does it feel good for you?” He continues to slowly rock your hips back and forth, making you nod your head as you bite your bottom lip.

“You wanna know something?” He asks. You tilt your head slightly curiously.

“It feels really good for me too…” He groans, pushing your hips down to make you grind on him further. You moan at the sensation it brings you, even the way Sunwoo’s strong hands hold you down.

As Sunwoo continues to help you grind yourself onto his crotch, you can’t help but stare at his plump lips. Without thinking, you impulsively peck them. Your eyes grow wide as you just realized what you’ve done.

“Sunwoo I- I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have-” your apology is cut off as he kisses you back. His lips attacking yours aggressively as he moves your hips faster.

You pull away from him for a moment, trying to catch your breath as he leans forward to kiss your chest.

“Sunwoo wait-” He doesn’t listen as he licks and sucks the top of your breasts.

“We can’t. T-this is something only boyfriends do-” Now that phrase is what gets him to stop.

“But friends can do this too sweetheart, didn’t you know?” He looks at you like it’s a well known fact.

“And it’s even better because I'm your best friend. Best friends are supposed to help each other right?” He pouts as he rubs circles on the dips of your hips.

“Y-yes…” You stutter. Still worried that what you feel for him might drive him away.

“And it looks like we both have a problem down there. I can help us both. Do you trust me?” You feel his bulge growing harder as you nod in response.

“I’ll make you feel good sweetheart, I promise. Just keep this between us okay?” He kisses you before unbuckling his pants to lower them enough to his knees.

He wastes no time pushing your hips down again on his hard bulge, the friction of his covered cock nudging your sensitive bud is even more pleasurable as the layers of clothing between you have lessened.

“Feels s-so good…” You mindlessly mumble as pleasure takes over your senses.

Sunwoo’s hands grab your ass harshly, making you whine from the slight sting but it turns you own even more. You moan his name as you feel an unfamiliar sensation growing in your abdomen.

“That’s it sweetheart, use my cock.” He groans.

Your hips roll on their own as they move faster, trying to reach that peak you’re desperately craving. He crashes his lips onto yours, tongues moving together so erotically.

You don’t even have time to process what’s going on until you suddenly hit your orgasm, making you bite his bottom lip out of impulse.

“Fuck I need to be inside you right now. Can I? Fuck- please let me fuck you-” He moans.

“But is that oka-”

“As long as we’re helping each other right?” He asks, his thumb grazing your bottom lip.

“O-okay. Just… it won’t hurt right?” You look at him with worried eyes.

“Just a little, but it will feel so good. Gonna fill you up so good sweetheart I promise-” He fumbles as he slightly lifts his hips to pull down his boxers, kicking them to the side as he pulls your panties to the side. Your mouth waters at the sight of his leaking cock, eager to know how it will feel inside in a few moments.

Sunwoo helps you lift your hips, tugging at the base of his member as he aligns himself at your entrance before slowly lowering you down.

You start to feel the head stretch out your walls, whining at the pain as he bottoms out into you. He gives you a moment to adjust before he slowly grabs your waist again to drag your hips back and forth as his cock gliding inside your tight walls.

“I-feel so full-” You whine, wrapping your arms around his neck as you try to roll your hips yourself.

“Doing so good sweetheart.” Sunwoo kisses your neck.

“Fuck- gonna ruin you for everyone else. Got that? After this I can only fuck you-” He growls in your ear, slapping your ass as he bites your earlobe. You nod in response.

He wraps his arms around your waist and thrusts himself up into you. Pounding his member so deep that you practically feel all of him.

“Gonna make you mine baby. All mine.” He groans against your lips.

All the sensations happening at the moment numb your head, feeling yourself drift away to the point you don’t even realize you’re cumming on his cock, moaning his name like a prayer.

You thank him profusely. You don’t even know why you’re thanking him but you do. He smirks at you as he caresses your cheek and leaves a kiss on your forehead,

“That’s what friends are for…”

[queenoftheimps]

I'm so obsessed with the episode opening with Louis insisting that Armand's method of killing "Those half in love with easeful death" isn't violent, as if to make it seem like it isn't really murder --

and when we see it in being put into action on young Daniel, he pushes back at Armand several times, insisting "I don't want to rest" and "I like my life", not exactly the easily entranced victim even after he's been held hostage for four days, and oof is it unsettling to see play out with someone who very clearly does not want to submit to this

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Identity Theft (dp x dc)

Dan was furious.

Probably angrier than he’d been since his fight with his wimpy younger self, though that wasn’t hard since he’d spent most of the time since then in one of the Fenton Thermos. He had forgotten how tiny and cramped it was in there. He had hated it but Dan had figured he’d bide his time until an opportunity to escape arose when he could then exact his revenge upon his younger self along with his puny friends and Jasmine.

And the opportunity had indeed come, and much faster than he would have thought. Someone had actually released him voluntarily. Mentally celebrating, Dan had prepared to kill the poor fool in return when he’d felt something settle around him and suddenly he couldn’t move.

“I’ve got you!” said the man holding a glowing scepter. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you again, Phantom?”

Dan would have groaned if he could, because of course this was about the brat.

“I only had to follow your ecto-signature my dearest Lydia procured for me,” the stupid man continued on. “Did you think the Fenton thermos would protect you from me?”

There, the man laughed and Dan promised himself that he would kill the other man slowly and painfully as soon as he got out of this.

“Nevermind your cowardice, you’re mine now.” The man smiled and snapped his fingers, a red haze fell over his vision and Dan couldn’t think anymore.

He wasn’t quite sure how long he was lost to the haze and all his memories were half-formed things that made no sense. There was a circus tent, some people screaming and the never ending spiraling colors within the ringmaster’s scepter it could’ve been a few hours or a decade, Dan couldn’t have told you.

Next thing he remembered was blinking away the red as a shattering sound registered to his ears. Coming back to consciousness was like trying to get out of a ball pit, slow and tortuous.

“Are you alright?” Someone was saying.

Dan turned to look at a man who was all green and was wearing a cape for some reason.

“My name is Martian Manhunter, I am part of the Justice league. May I offer you some assistance?”

“I’m alright,” Dan said as his just-recovering brain took in all the other masked and costumed heroes talking to some of what Dan assumed were the ringmaster’s victims. As his eyes went over the superheroes, a wicked idea bloomed in his mind.

“My name is Phantom,” Dan started as he tried to make himself appear smaller. “I’m a vigilante, I guess you could say? I protect the living from ghosts trying to cause havoc.”

“Ghosts?” asked a man wearing a dark costume with two ear-like things on his head

“Most the ringmaster’s prisoners are ghosts,” Dan explained.

“So you’ve fought him before?” asked the dark-cowled man.

“Yeah but he would never have gotten me if it hadn’t been for Danny,” Dan started as he let his shoulders slump, time to sell this. “He - he’s a clone created to destroy me and take my place and he did just that.”

“That’s awful,” said one of the heroes, a young man in black and blue.

“He stole my appearance and transformed me into this,” Dan said as he gestured to himself in mock-disgust. “My sister and friends have all been manipulated by him and believe him over me. I don’t know how to fix it, I just know he’ll stop at nothing to keep Amity Park under his thumb.”

The heroes looked at each other before the eared one spoke up. “The Justice League would be glad to offer assistance to a fellow hero, Phantom. How can we be of assistance?”

Dan had to stop a smirk from stretching on his face.

[ironandglass]

The Descent - Chapter 2 - Reflections  

Silco x female reader dark slow burn modern au. Stalker Silco.

A strange man moves into the apartment across from yours, he likes to watch and you start to like him watching. What could go wrong?

<<<Go back to Chapter One

Warnings: stalking, violence, trauma, threats, fear, panic, romanticized toxic behavior, alcohol drinking, toxic relationships, power dynamics, mental health probably, sex mention, swearing, bad editing (notsorry), evil Silco, dark Silco, cold Silco. He’s not gentle and sweet ya feel? No jinx

Chapter two

Reflections

-- 

There are few things worse than crying yourself to sleep in your stalker’s bed. Waking up in it while he undresses might be one of them. 

-- 

Back home, you’re abruptly confronted with everything as you enter the recently repaired front door, closing it behind you. Locking the deadbolt and the slide chain across.    

In that moment you wish there were more locks. 

Leaning back against the door you feel a pang in your chest that rises up into your throat like a painful stone. You rake your fingers up through your hair, a ragged breath escapes you.     Your home was a wreck, the police had left fingerprint dust stuff on walls and moved everything awkwardly. Bringing to reality the stark reminder that someone had broken in, so easily, to your private space and threatened your life.    

You take a few deep breaths. Running your fingers through your hair again and again, not even realising you're doing it.   

You try to push it all down. 

Suddenly gripped by a realisation, you stride across the apartment to pointedly close all the curtains. Silco wasn’t on his balcony, you assumed he had gone to bed. Or maybe he was washing the sheets after your intrusion.  

Oh no, how embarrassing, you hadn’t meant to fall asleep in his bed like that. You hadn’t planned on crying your little heart out till you fell into a deep sleep. If you were being honest, that was the best sleep you'd, had in a long time.   

You sit on the end of your bed, re-hashing your excruciating awkwardness. So what, the man watched you. You encouraged him by parading around In lingerie. So what if you came hard when you noticed he was watching you fuck somebody in your bed.  

You liked it, you like his eyes on you. He called the police for you when you were robbed. He supported you through it, as you cried in his arms. He was actually there for you. He even gave you a place to stay and made you a hot chocolate and sure, it was a little creepy that he knew your name and he said you were his girlfriend but everything else kind of balances that out… right? 

You flop back onto the bed, blowing air out of your mouth and letting your legs hang. 

Am… I the creep? You start to wonder. 

— 

That night you dream the door won’t lock.   

No matter how many chains you slide across or bolts you twist, it won’t hold. 

Someone’s on the other side and you can’t tell if you’re scared… or if you’re hoping it’s him. 

 — 

Over the next few days you wrestle with your behavior, feeling guilty for being rude to the man after violating his privacy. You supposed you had felt entitled to it because he always invaded yours, but… had he? Honestly, all you really needed to do was close the curtains. It was almost less invaded and more invited.  

It was impossible to try and justify your behavior by normal morals or logic, because you were both a little twisted. The rules seemed different between you two. 

You keep the curtains closed. 

 — 

The police call, requesting you come in and identify a lineup of potential suspects involved in your robbery and even though you'd rather walk slowly over hot coals you agree, because it seems like the correct thing to do.     However, a few anxious hours before you’re meant to attend, you get another phone call from the same officer advising that it’s cancelled.     “Don’t come in.” They say, no explanation, no reschedule.    

At first you’re annoyed at the lack of justice and potentially effort from the police but that is quickly replaced by a huge wave of relief.  

 — 

It’s a little over a week before you start to open the blinds up and see Silco again, because it takes you time to slowly ease back into your confidence.    

He gives no indication of annoyance or impatience -you do though. He feels so far away now.  

  You reflect on his words.    

Just you.    

The memory of that moment, his warm breath against your ear, feeling it sink gently down your neck. 

You desperately want more of whatever that was.  

 — 

Feeling inspired, you decide to thank Silco for helping you somehow. Maybe a gift? A token of appreciation? What do you give a wealthy man to say thank you… on a normal human budget?    

Wracking your brain, it takes you a while before you come up with the perfect idea. A small perfume sampler card of your signature scent (sprayed generously in store of course, unwilling to waste your own stock).    

Eventually, after visiting a frustrating number of stores, all over the damn city, you find a place that sells his brand of cigarettes, imported, black with a gold ring around the filter.    

You press your lips to the perfume sampler card, leaving a stained lipstick kiss and write on the back “Thank you Silco xxx" and sign your name.    

You tie the card and cigarette packet together with a luxurious dark red, silk ribbon, matching the deep red shirts he seemed to favor.     You beam down proudly at the final product before carefully packing it into a box and mailing it to his unit.     -and wait.   

 — 

The wind is so cold your fingers feel numb and clumsy through your thin gloves. You can barely see the footpath carrying a large and awkward parcel home from the nearby post office.  

  Regretting agreeing to pick it up for your best friend Mia on short notice. You did owe her though, and you know that she would do the same (and more) for you in a heart beat. That thought eases your frustration slightly. 

You’re only a few blocks from your front door when you hear an unfamiliar male voice laugh behind you. 

“Let me help” 

You open your mouth to protest but you feel the weight is lifted off your hands before you have the chance. You step back around the large bulky parcel to get a look at this mysterious helper.  

He is wearing the most obnoxiously bright yellow tartan suit you have ever seen in your life. More annoyingly, it looks quite good on his lean muscular frame. He’s covered in tattoos, you see them peeking out at his ankles and wrists, they’re also all across his face, he smirks at you and his shocking pale green eyes throw you off centre momentarily.  

“I don’t mean to be rude, drink it in, but it’s fucking freezing, and I‘ve got places to be.” 

You shoot him a half smile and gesture forward with your chin, not taking your eyes off him as you both start walking up the street. You, silently and thoughtfully, taking in this unexpected curiosity.  

“Seems like you don’t actually have time to help” you press as you walk together. 

He huffs a brief laugh and looks at you with an incredulous grin. 

“Honestly, you looked like a more independent type so… I was expecting you’d say no.”  

It was your turn to now to half feign offence while lowkey being actually offended. 

“Here’s fine…-" 

"-Finn” he interjects, catching your eye as he lowers the parcel to the ground. 

“Thank you Finn” your smile follows him as he stands to his full height. You pointedly do not offer your name, even after he gives you an encouraging look.  

“Tch, You’re difficult, … I like that.” He says looking down at you, his gaze seems to deepen with a predatory glint and he cuts a handsome smirk to match it. You hold his gaze, keeping your head high, this man, “Finn” was cocksure, and apparently just obnoxious as his suit. 

“See you round, difficult girl.” He gives you a sharks grin as he turns away up the street. 

You watch him go, unsure what to think, but also to make sure he doesn't see which building is yours before you pick the parcel up, cross the road and go into your apartment. 

 — 

Reading, on your couch, a small flicker of light out of the corner of your eye lets you know Silco is home and has moved onto the balcony to smoke. Possibly enjoying his small but hopefully meaningful gift.   

You turn slightly in his direction to smile warmly at his half lit outline for a moment before turning back to your reading, as one might greet a dear friend.  

His presence was a soothing balm, comforting after a long day at work. After some time, you found your thoughts drifting to how you clung to his warmth and how his fingers traced soothing patterns on your back to calm you. His expensive high end apartment with the marble countertop and large bathroom. His smell, his delicious hot chocolate, his warm whisper in your ear.  

You absently trace your thumb over your lip. You want more of him, but you’re not sure how, or why or… if you should?  

You flick your eyes towards him without turning your head. The curtains are drawn and he has retreated. Your heart sinks at the realization that he’s no longer watching, he’s not with you.  

You’re very much alone. 

Maybe it would be better to have a normal healthy relationship… or at least let off some steam.  

One of your friends, Mia, had been trying to get you to come out to something, anything… you decide in that moment to take her up on it and message her. 

YOU: "When are you coming to pick up this massive fucking parcel?" 

She replies quickly. 

MIA: "Awww are you missing me? Haha I can come grab it tonight! After work, Oooooh also, I have news!" 

You pause at that last line, that was never a good sign, it usually meant you were about to be dragged into something. 

You walk to the cupboard and pull out two wine glasses and a bottle in preparation. You had to admit though, her schemes were never boring and you catch yourself smiling.  

Before you sit down you pull the curtains closed.  

 — 

You don't have to wait long before you hear footsteps at your door, a key fumble in the lock awkwardly for a moment followed by the crash of a heavy keyring falling loudly to the floor and familiar cursing. 

You laugh and go to the door, opening it as an act of mercy. 

"How have you made it this far in life?" You ask at the grinning woman sheepishly clutching a set of keys covered way too many novelty keyrings. 

"There she is!" She says throwing her arms around you enthusiastically giving you a tight squeeze. "My favourite door opening, parcel receiving, goddess!" 

You snort a laugh and close the door behind her, locking the dead bolt and slide bolt in place as well as the new extra lock you had installed.     Mia glances at you over her shoulder for just one second before doing a little twirl into the room, towards the couch and pulling another bottle of wine out. 

"I come bearing tribute!" She says dramatically, bowing as she places it on the table, your traditional festive grounds. 

She flings off her large bright coat, tossing it over the back of one of a stool revealing a stylish bright ensemble with large earrings. She always looks amazing. 

You pour two glasses of wine before tilting your head to the package.  

"So what is it? Besides heavy?" You ask. 

She stomps her heels on the ground rapidly in excitement.    

"It's my wheel!" She says her eyes lighting up. 

"Like... a pottery wheel?" You ask. 

"Uh yeah, a pottery wheel! I'm sick of paying for classes like a peasant. I want to be at home with myself in the zone with that stupid song playing. Ohhhhhh myyyy looovvveeee…"  

You grin as you take another sip and she shows you photos on her phone of some of the things she has made. Some are bent and awkward but you can see as she progresses through the album her improvement, some of them are starting to look really good.  

"Damn, some of these actually look great." You admit smiling.  

She falls back on the couch smirking. "I'm full of surprises babe."   

"I'm gonna make vessels and talismans, maybe even urns, you know, for dogs or something."   

You giggle at the idea, joining her on the couch.     It's not long before both of you kick your shoes off and slump into lazy comfort with your feet lined up resting on the coffee table. Talking playfully and laughing a little too loudly, but in the best way. 

Suddenly Mia's spine stiffens and she looks at you like she just remembered something scandalous. 

"Ooooh that's right, my news!" She exclaims. 

"Don't make that face" she chastises you gently, slapping your thigh. "You'll love this!"    

Mia wiggles herself forward to lean in closer to you, conspiratorially.   

“So, get this—I met this guy. Tall, tattoos, gorgeous in a very bad idea kind of way.”   

You try to feign parental concern without smiling. “Oooh nooo.”   

“Ooooh yes,” she grins. “He came into the gallery looking like trouble in a yellow suit, asked all the right questions, bought two paintings, and might have invited me to a fancy charity ball.”   

You choke on your wine. “Wait—what?”   

Mia shrugs, way too casual. “It’s this weekend. Super posh. He said I could bring a friend.” She points at you. “You. Obviously.”   

You blink at her. “You want me to go to a rich people gala with a man you just met in a banana suit?”   

“He’s hot! And charming! And rich! And it’s for charity. Plus, he already arranged a dress fitting. Free couture, babe. Couture.”   

You stare at her, uncertain. Part of you wants to laugh, the other part wants to scream. But Mia’s looking at you with those big, hopeful eyes, practically vibrating with excitement.   

“…You in?” she tempts.   

You sigh, long and dramatic. “If we end up murdered, it's on you.”   

Mia squeals and launches at you with a hug. “We are gonna be iconic!    -- 

Watering your plants on the balcony, you glance up to see Silco’s not there—the large, empty glass windows of his apartment still and silent. The sun is high in the sky, so this isn’t unusual. You usually only saw him from dusk till dawn, maybe only a handful of times in daylight. 

Standing barefoot in the bright, natural light, tending to your plants, all of that feels far away. You enjoy this quiet moment with nobody watching, alone, but not lonely. 

The smell of damp soil and the weight of the watering can, sloshing gently with your movements, ground you. 

You hum a song to yourself as you move from plant to plant, enjoying the warmth. 

  -- 

The espresso machine hisses like a warning, sharp and sudden, not quite drowned out by the ambient music of the cafe.  

You'd promised yourself you'd take an actual break but for some reason you were still reading work emails on your company laptop. 

You don't notice him until the air shifts, something feels off, like pressure changing before a storm. Then the chair scrapes.   

"Relax" he says calmly sitting down opposite you. "I won't stay long"     You look up at him, eyes wide in surprise, your mouth half open. 

"Silco." You say dumbly, watching as he draws a card out of his pocket and places it in the middle of the table between you. 

"Your handwriting is terrible" he says. "But your perfume's better than I expected.” 

You stare at the card, then up at him.   

"You got it" you exhale. 

"I did" he replies, picking the card back up. Your eyes linger as you notice him brushing his thumb gently over it once before tucking it away into the breast pocket of his coat. "And I meant to thank you properly, after all it was a bold gesture." 

You freeze, like a deer in the headlights. Flustered and proud and nervous all at once. 

He leans in slightly, as if feasting, his eyes watching yours with exquisite precision. Always so intense. 

Your lips part slowly to say something. 

"-Do you know who I am." His question throws you off completely. 

You stumble for a moment, brows furrowing."... I mean sort of? You're my... Neighbour and... I know your name?"  

He nods towards your laptop. 

"Open a new browser." 

You do so, looking up at him. 

"Now type in my name." 

You raise an eyebrow at this but comply, the five keys clattering gently. 

The search loads instantly. 

Silco, Zaun Industries CEO wanted for questioning in relation to the disappearance- Industrialist allegedly linked to underground crime- Arson attack- Crime and corruption in- Undercity Kingpin -  several bodies found branded with the Eye of Zaun- Politicians revealed to have dealings with- police found no evidence- on and on 

Hundreds, no thousands of articles, boardroom photos, headlines, grainy security footage.  

All of it, him. 

Him. 

Your breath falters as you take all of this in. Before slowly looking up at him. 

"This is you" you say. 

"It is." He says, cold, unapologetic, honest. 

"I thought you were just... rich" you admit. 

He raises one eyebrow, mildly amused. "I am." 

"I mean like, eccentric, quiet, controlling rich... I didn't think-" 

"-That I was dangerous?" 

You fall silent at this. The words hit like a truck. 

He reaches over and takes a sip of your coffee, like it's a test, or a claim. 

You search his face, desperately clinging to the man you thought you knew. As if familiarity will ground you. 

"Why tell me this?" You ask. 

"I don't want you to remain ignorant." He says softly this time. 

A moment passes and your mind is racing, trying to make sense of all of this. "So what... Is this a threat?"  

"If I were threatening you" he says, eyes meeting yours.  "You'd feel it." 

You believe him. 

Your brows furrow deeper. "So why now? ... Why are you telling me this now?" 

He looks at you, considering for a long moment. As though he's deciding if you should know the truth- or something else. 

"You sent me a gift." He explains slowly. "You put something of yourself into it, thoughtfully and freely." 

A pause. 

"And you deserve to know what you gave it to."  

You blink at this. 

"I didn't know it was like that." You admit. 

"I know." He says, eyes flicking back up to yours. 

Silco leans back in his chair, relaxed. Calmly assessing your reactions, witnessing your thoughts. He takes another sip of your coffee, setting it down neatly. 

You close your laptop screen slowly and rake your fingers through your hair. "I don't know what to do with this." You confess. 

"You don't need to do anything." He says pausing. "Not yet."    Something about the way he says the last part makes your stomach drop. 

You narrow your eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

Silco stands and tucks his chair in, the legs scrape softly against the tile. 

He adjusts his coat, and taps the breast pocket he had tucked your gift into, looking down at you. 

“You handed me a piece of yourself, and I accepted it.”  

A smile curls his lips. 

“That part of you belongs to me now... and it won't be returned.” 

He turns, walking toward the door. Calm, unhurried. No drama. No threat in his stride.    “You should’ve known better than to offer something you couldn’t afford to lose.”  

Just before the exit, he glances back at you smirking, like he already knows how this ends. 

And then he's gone. 

-- 

"And you deserve to know what you gave it to." 

That night you keep the curtains closed, sore eyes staring at the cold glass in front of you. On the screen is yet another news article. The screen is paused on the image of Silco. His face set firm, uncompromising. Two large bodyguards stand either side of him.     You blow a loose strand of hair out of your face and allow yourself to relax, sinking into the couch behind you. The muscles in your back easing after hours of tension.    For hours now, you had been researching him trying to make it sink in that this is the truth, the reality of your situation. Reading and reading until you can't anymore. You have to accept it, it seems impossible, but this is the man who you let watch, let him see so much of yourself.   “That part of you belongs to me now... and it won't be returned.” 

The man was so much worse than you could ever imagined. In every way. 

Dangerous, powerful, violent and you pranced around in your underwear for him and sent him tokens of affection. 

You drop your face into your hands. 

But you meant it. The man you knew, before you knew that, he was still the same man. Just ... significantly worse and most likely dangerous to be near.  

You sigh deeply. How the fuck did you get yourself so tangled up in this? 

And even after everything, why do you still think about how he held you that night.    “You should’ve known better than to offer something you couldn’t afford to lose.”  

You curl up tightly into a ball, like you can fold yourself away from it all, and you cry.  -- Thanks so much for reading Chapter 2! 🔪📖🖤 I have been really enjoying writing this so I hope you dig it! If you're comfy doing so, please let me know what you think! : ) Super curious to know what YOU want to happen? Or what you want to see more of or know more about?

I can promise you, shit is about to get WILD next chapter, I hope you're ready. <3 Iron

PS - If you’d like to be added to the taglist for “The Descent” let me know!✨

--

>>>Continue on to Chapter three

<<<Go back to Chapter One

[wildernessuntothemselves]

“How long have you been kissing for?” He pushes curiously and you groan. “Just now. Just this once. I just wanted to know what it feels like before I'm bound to my soulmate forever. Please don't make this a big deal.”

You’re pleading your case, hoping he’d understand why you did this and not expose your ass. But of course, that wasn’t what was on Beomgyu’s mind. “Why didn't you ask me?”

You cringe at the offended tone in Beomgyu’s voice. Of course, he’d make this into a competition. “I thought about it but I knew you wouldn't be able to keep your mouth shut.

“What are you talking about?” He scoffs, now seriously offended. “I'm great at keeping secrets. I didn't tell Soobin that you have a crush on him. I didn’t tell you that I've found a couple of your underwear under Soobin's pillow.”

You and Soobin's eyes widen comically.

“Oops.” Beomgyu grins. That bastard did it on purpose. “Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag. I like you both too and I want to be involved in whatever this is.”

Hold on. Hold on. Soobin likes you? Beomgyu likes you? What the hell is going on? This is too much information at once for your brain to process, and you try to ignore the way it all makes your heart flutter in your chest. You can't think about this too much. Your soulmate's name will be revealed to you soon. It is useless to think about what feelings who has for who.