╰┈➤ 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐍𝐎 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 ━━ ❝All these worries about villains and heroes... about quirks and the quirkless... when they should be worried about something far worse... me.❞
𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛- you, the once powerful and feared Control Devil, find your...
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━ ⭒─⭑━
The thrill of your newfound power lingered as you walked home. A shiver danced down your spine—a delicious mix of fear and exhilaration.
You were no longer just ____. You were something more, something... powerful.
Reaching your house, the murmur of conversation drifted from the kitchen.
Inside, you found your mom chatting with a couple perched at the table—Hiro and Shisuki, your parents' old high school friends.
You vaguely remembered them stopping by a few weeks ago to celebrate your dad's promotion.
Hiro, tall and tan with a shock of lime-green hair and light brown eyes, flashed a friendly grin. Shisuki, his wife, offered a wan smile. She was pale and slender, her lavender hair mirroring the color of her eyes.
You noticed something subtly off about them. You couldn't quite put your finger on it.
Your mom, ever watchful, intercepted you before you could linger. "____! There you are, sweetie. Let me see those hands." Her voice held a familiar edge of worry as she inspected the scrapes from your encounter with Bakugo.
Before you could protest, she whisked you upstairs, muttering about "rough-housing" and "being careful."
With a sigh, you resigned yourself to a quick bath. Wrapping a towel around your head, you picked up a rag and began drying your hair as your mom hurried downstairs, called upon by your dad to help entertain the guests while dinner simmered.
Alone in your room, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the floor, you replayed the scene in your mind.
The memory of your helpless rage, the shove that sent Bakugo sprawling— it all felt distant now, overshadowed by the chilling realization of what happened next.
The way Bakugo crumpled, his whimpers replaced by a strange, terrified silence—it was like you'd flicked a switch, taking control of him not with your body, but with your will.
Suddenly, the image in your mind flickered. Bakugo's tear-streaked face contorted, morphing into an older visage. Golden-brown eyes, framed by a mess of unruly blond hair, stared up at you with an unsettling intensity. A wide, toothy grin stretched across his face, revealing a chipped canine tooth.
The boy—no, the young man—held a chainsaw in one hand, the whirring blade a constant hum against the silence. Yet, despite the weapon and the wildness in his eyes, the most unsettling aspect was the way he looked at you.
It wasn't just fear or submission; it was a kind of god-worship, a bizarre adoration that promised nothing but utter obedience.
The distorted voice echoed in your mind, the words spoken with a reverence that bordered on obsession. "You... have control..."
