#I don’t think the one I love has horns.

[pleasantlydissapointed]

UGH!!! The difference between these two shots- in one of them you can tell by their faces what a forced, and overall uncomfortable moment this is during their relationship.

It is purely built off of desperation, either for love or the grimioue. Grumuoi?

Grim—

??????

Whatever

In the second shot the lighting is much softer- I mean HECK! Even the line work is more comforting! They’ve toned down the rough and harsh edges of Blitz’s horns and Stolas’s feathers.

And their faces- god

One of the things that the animators at spindle horse really thrive on are facial expressions. Blitz is no longer doing this out of malicious intent it is out of deep respect and care for Stolas. and STOLAS! Don’t even get me started, he doesn’t look Nearly as uncomfortable as he does in the first shot.

I think he’s beginning to realize not only the steps that need to be taken in order to build this relationship back up, instead of staying in the fantasy world he looms in. And not only this, but he’s realizing that Blitz WANTS to take those steps with him.

I’m just

Amazed at what this show has give us in such a little amount of time.

I really loved this episode and am really excited for the future of Helluva Boss

…WELP! I’ll see y’all next season I suppose! ;D

(Sorry for any grammatical errroers I’m frantically writing this at 2:00 am)

I’m just gonna drop this here and leave I’m in too much pain to say anything else

[zuzuelectricbugaloo]

Lifeafterdeath Ship Kid: Vidal!

Created by @sarcosticsarcomere and I, he’s a revamped version of Goth in both appearance and personality, given that they are now the son of Life as well as Reaper and Geno

Concept art for their design:

Yes I know the art is mid but if I could commission my favorite artists all the time I would be drowning in over 20K of credit card debt lmao

Nicknames: V, Vivi, or Vi

Follows True Pacifist Reapertale, making V the youngest of their siblings Frisk (aka Mercy; Life’s child), Chara (aka Faith; Reaper’s child) and Asriel (aka Hope; Life’s child)

Pronouns: Masculine, V identifies as a He/Theyby

Sexuality: Fluid

Height as a teenager: Over 6 feet tall

Personality and some background info: Vidal is a soft-spoken, socially awkward guy. Doesn’t say much, but once they open up to someone and are comfortable around them V could excitedly ramble on and on about their special interests. They had trouble making friends growing up due to being the demigod son of two prominent gods. As a result, when they first met Palette Roller and TK, they went by the name Valeria to hide their identity and befriend the other young skeletons.

Fun facts:

V can do goat blep, shift his eyelights to resemble a goat’s eyes, goat bleat, goat scream, and freeze like a goat when frightened. As a child, V adored affectionate headbonks and would play fight frequently with their siblings and parents. For their goat Mom and goat brother, it was a delightful game. For everyone else, sore foreheads were a common occurrence

When angered, V’s eyelights morph into a goat’s eyes and take on a redder shades

Around 6-8 years old their horns and tail started to appear and grow.

When Vidal’s horns and tail grew out, they became clumsy due to constant struggle with their sense of balance. They’d become frustrated and give up on walking altogether and simply float. This lead to Lifeafterdeath using child leashes to hold onto their floating son while a grumpy V pouts with their arms crossed in the air like a huffy balloon.

They share Life’s passion for botany, inherited Geno’s love for astronomy, and mimic Reaper’s gothic aesthetic. However they are terrible with plants and kill every one they try to grow much to their dismay. They also often carry around a messenger bag for their scrapbook and journals to write about and press and preserve their favorite flora into.

Reaper preens V and their siblings and occasionally V will try and preen their friends or familial figures like Epic and Dream.

Palette Roller is Vidal’s best friend since they were young babybones. They’d often hangout together and when they learn about the other’s infamous parents, empathize and soon become inseparable.

Whenever they can’t be watched by one group’s parents, they are babysat by Epic, their “Bruhncle”. V adores Epic and enjoys wearing fingerless gloves and boots as a nod to him.

Vidal’s Fashion Aesthetic

Best described as gothic cottagecore, V’s color scheme consists of primarily white and black with some blue, green, and purple. Anything that has plants, a gothic motif, or celestial theme, V will wear. Sometimes V will have jewelry decorating their horns for special occasions like birthdays or holiday celebrations. Or when they’re trying to impress their crush xD

Vidal x Palette: Canon

When Vidal develops a crush on Palette, they don’t confess their feelings because they have no idea if their best friend even feels romantic feelings, least of all towards them. They’re very close, but Vidal can’t tell if it’s platonic or romantic.

Palette knows they care deeply about V but has no idea what kind of love it is. He’s unbothered by this. After all, his parents are all in a queerplatonic/romantic relationship (Hyperinsomnia; the romantic comes from Dream and Error’s relationship) and happy and committed. As long as V is in his life and they’re best friends forever he’s happy. Palette does experience attraction and think V is hot. Unlike V, Palette grew up in queerplatonic family, so romance isn’t something Palette has particularly experience in

They start dating before they confess their feelings, confusing everyone except Palette’s family xD At first glance it appears as though Palette is aggressively friend-zoning V the entire time when it isn't his intention.

Some bonus funny screenshots regarding Palette and V from Sarco and my talks the other day:

[sinsolstice]

★ 彡 AFTER DARK. ✧ MIGUEL O'HARA

oneshot ❥ be careful who you make your wishes and deals with.

❥  tropes devil au, human/devil relationship. el diablo miguel x reader. ❥  content warnings explicit sexual content (18+) blowjob, descriptive male sexual anatomy. minors do not interact. ❥ extras dividers by @/cafekitsune. this oneshot was part of a miguel o'hara zine called 'enrapture 2024'.

You didn’t think it would work when you summoned someone you shouldn’t have. 

You aren’t one to stir trouble, but you’re a curious person. Still, it hasn’t led you to situations where you can’t get yourself out. But perhaps this time, your curiosity has gotten the best of you, and now you’re faced with the unfathomable thought of inviting someone—a supernatural being—into your home. 

You don’t believe in the supernatural. So when you chanted El Diablo’s name three times in front of your mirror past midnight before bed, you thought of it as a harmless joke. You didn’t think he existed. But now, a strange man is standing right in front of you at an ungodly hour of the night. And with what you’ve done, you’re convinced that El Diablo is real, and he towers over right in front of you.

He is taller than any man you’ve come across. Heavily muscular with sharp features on the jawline and black horns that bend to the front and slightly fork up at the end. His complexion is dark, brown hair unkempt, and his piercingly red eyes glow red in the dimly lit room. 

“What do we have here?” His voice sounds distinctive, deep and imposing. He smirks at you in a taunting way that sends shivers down your back. “A toy that I can play with.” 

“Are you… the Devil?” 

The supernatural being laughs. “I go by many names. El Diablo is a famous title for what I am most known for. But you can call me Miguel.” He adds, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You summoned me. What is it that you desire?” 

You stare at him—at Miguel—as you process what he has just revealed. You want to believe that this is some sort of prank, but the aura he radiates in the room says otherwise. Maybe you’ve outdone yourself this time. “Desire?” You say with pretence. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“A mere human doesn’t conjure creatures of hell without intentions. Even if they do it on a whim or dare.” Miguel states, his expression solemn. “Everyone has one, pequeño. Whether it could be wanting fame, money, power or love. Anything their heart desires, they want to have it easily in the palm of their hand.” 

You’re quiet when he explains and you can’t help but think of your desires. Everyone has something that they wish for—that they yearn for. You do too, and it now makes you wonder why you summoned him in your room in the quietest of the night. Was  curiosity really the reason you summoned Miguel? Why did you summon him in the first place when you don’t believe in the supernatural? Do they really know about a human’s desires? 

“But your deal comes with a price.” You look at him. “That’s how making deals with you works, right?” 

Miguel grins. “You’re the skeptical type. I like that.” 

You shrug your shoulders. Cultural media always portrays how deals are made with devils in fiction stories, and it’s not much different to making an agreement for something and signing a contract to officiate the deal. “You want my soul if I strike a deal with you?” 

The smile on Miguel’s face curves wider, eyes glinting in mirth. “That is quite the assumption, pequeño.” He chuckles. It feels a bit like a mockery. “A soul is a heavy price to pay. But in your case—” He stares at you up and down, red-coloured eyes gazing tentatively. “There’s something more valuable than your soul.” 

You stare at him back; his words strike a streak of wonder in you. The words come out of you before you can register them. “What is worth more than my soul?” 

Miguel raises a brow at you. The corner of his mouth curves up into a smirk. “I can’t tell you that. Not until you tell me what your heart desires.” 

When he moves closer, you move back instinctively. The weight of his words puts you off balance, and you question yourself if it’s wise to tell El Diablo about your desire. Something holds you back—a tiny voice—from speaking about your desire. It’s a wish that you try not to dwell on or feed thoughts into your head. What you wish for isn’t money or power or fame or forcing someone to be yours; it’s something that you can’t have overnight.

But with Miguel right in front of you—the way he stares down at you, the temptation to confess is great. It’s like a whisper in your ear, eliciting you to tell him. That he won’t judge you for your desire, no matter how imbecile it sounds. 

After all, it’s not like you’ll be making a proper deal with El Diablo, right? 

“I… I desire companionship.” You admit softly. 

Miguel goes quiet. His expression is solemn. But not long after, a smile widens on his face and his red eyes shine intriguingly. There’s something wicked about his smile. “That’s more like it,” he says. “Go on…” 

“I’m tired of being alone. I’m surrounded by people who have someone they can constantly talk to. To go home to.” You continue. “I just want to have that, too.” 

“And why can’t you?” Miguel says bluntly. “Let me make your desire come true, pajarito. You want someone to greet you when you come home? Do mundane things together? To love you? I can make all of that happen overnight.” 

His words sound like gospel, and another whisper tempts in your ears. He can make it happen, it says. It’ll stop you from feeling lonely. From trying to bury away what you’ve been feeling for a while. You’ve never asked for anything in life, but maybe just this once…you want your desire to come true. 

“If I make a deal with you, what’s the condition?” You ask. “You said that there’s something more valuable than my soul.” 

Miguel smirks at you. He leans forward and his voice gravels as he whispers into your ear. His words send shivers down your spine, and from the moment he reveals it, you realize you should have thought properly before giving in to the temptation of your desire. “...Your innocence.” 

“And trust me, you won’t regret making the deal with me.”

***** 

If only you’d known what you were truly getting yourself into. 

Just like that, overnight, Miguel granted your desire. In seventy-two hours, your social circle was somehow aware that you’re with someone, but you’d never mentioned to anyone that you’re taken. Why on Earth would you lie about something like that? But when El Diablo showed up—when Miguel, in his ordinary human form without the horns and piercing fangs—appeared at your workplace, gifting you a bouquet of flowers and your favourite food, you knew that this had to do with the deal you’d made with him the other night. And until now, you’ve fooled everyone you know for a couple of months now about your relationship with your ‘partner’, Miguel.

In exchange for getting your companionship, the price you pay is becoming Miguel’s personal toy. His beck and call for his sexual escapades. You’ve heard stories about how not only Devils are creatures of deceit, but they’re also sexual beings. During the day, Miguel plays the role of your boyfriend very well. But at night he goes back to being El Diablo, revealing his true self as the Devil who brought debauchery into your life.

"You know what time it is, pequeño," Miguel declares, appearing at your doorstep with a big smile. You know better than to disobey, and you comply with his request. Despite your reluctance to partake in such debauchery for companionship, it is necessary to honour your end of the bargain. 

As thoughts swirled in the back of your head, you couldn't help but wonder why Miguel didn't simply take your soul instead. However, his influence on you had grown so strong that you couldn't ignore the temptation anymore, and you secretly found yourself enjoying and eagerly anticipating the forbidden acts you engaged in every night.

Miguel leads you to a room in a secluded corner of your house. The room is enveloped in a dim, dark ambience, illuminated only by the eerie glow of red fluorescence lights. Standing together in the centre, you feel a powerful gaze from Miguel, instructing you to lower yourself onto your knees. As you comply, you can’t help but notice his commanding presence, towering above you with an air of dominance. Your body quivers with a mix of excitement and anticipation.

“You know what to do.” His baritone voice brings you back to reality. The sound of metal clicking—as he unbuckles his belt, you brace yourself for what’s about to come.The fabric of his pants ruffles, and your gaze is drawn to the prominent bulge in front of you, concealed behind a barrier of cloth. As his pants fall to the ground, you are confronted with his impressive manhood: a substantial shaft, with a thick girth, measuring ten inches in length. The pinkish-red head perfectly matches the rest of his dark complexion. It pulsates with desire, glistening with pre-cum, and its presence is almost overwhelming, as if it could be thrust upon your face. This is Miguel's, or rather El Diablo's, formidable member.

“Open your mouth.” Miguel’s voice is brusque in command. His cockhead brushes against your mouth, smearing a bit of semen against your tight lips. 

You’ve done this before, since the deal’s been made, and it never fails to make you tremble as your hands wrap around his shaft. Unclenching your jaw, you open your mouth and wrap your lips around his cockhead, circling the tip with the back of your tongue. Slowly, you open your mouth to accommodate taking a couple more inches of his cock, stuffing your mouth full. You use your hands to stroke the rest of his length that you can’t properly fit in your mouth. Your cheeks hollow as you suck his cock, careful to not make yourself gag. 

“That’s it, pequeño. Need to have you loosen that mouth of yours to take my cock deeper.” Miguel praise. His growls rumble in his chest, sending shivers down your back. One of his fangs peaks out as he bites the corner of his bottom lip. “So, I’m gonna have to do this to make it easier for the both of us.” 

His hand holds the back of your head, curling his fingers to grip your hair. By the time you realise what he plans to do to you next, his cock is shoved deeper into your mouth, and his cockhead hits the back of your throat. He pulls your head back before pushing you onto his cock again—two, three, a couple more times—until the dragging back and forth becomes steady and consistent. Miguel howls, nostrils flaring as he heavily pants. He stares  down at you, intensely primal and wicked, alternating between tugging your head and thrusting himself into your mouth for his cock to nestle deep in your wet warmth. 

The red fluorescence creates a shadow on the wall that reminds you of chiaroscuro art. You, on your knees in front of Miguel as he stands proudly, displaying the dominance and submissiveness in the air; the lustful, carnal debauchery. You swear from the corner of your eyes you could see a shadow of his devilish horns—showing his true self—in contrast to his reflection from the mirror, where his devil physique does not show. 

“Mine to use and mine to fuck.” Miguel grunts. He drives his hips faster and deeper inside your mouth, hitting the back of your throat as his cock slides in and out. It pulses in your throat and your eyes widen as you stare at him, feeling it engorge and forcing yourself to loosen your jaw. A muffled whimper escapes out of your throat, nails gently clawing on the side of his thighs as you watch him fuck your throat with reckless abandon. Bracing yourself for what’s to come. 

A few more thrusts and Miguel’s cock quivers inside your mouth. He snarls and shoots his load down your throat, holding you in place as you’re forced to take him. His cock continues to pulsate as he breathes heavily from his orgasm. “It never gets old,” Miguel’s voice rasps. 

His fingers instinctively caress you gently, touching at the area where he gripped your hair too tightly as he came down from the high. You don’t pull off of him even when his cum spills down your lips, knowing that this arrangement has been set in stone the moment you called for El Diablo, the night you met him. 

thank you for reading!

all of my links.

[gnxosblog]

The new boy

Pt 1

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ✵ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞�� 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧?

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⁂ 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠.

Matt x reader

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝*

~

I woke up from my alarm. Ugh school. Summer break had already ended. Time flies when you’re having fun. I mostly hangout with Kira, Josh and Aiden. I was kinda excited to go to school again but not to see my teachers. Especially not Mr Phill, he was an annoying and boring old man. I was most excited to just get out of the house everyday and see my friends. I didn’t like being home because my parents would fight almost all the time except for when other people were around. I was never good enough for them, I never did anything good. Home didn’t feel like a home to me.

I got up out of bed and walked over to my closet to pick out an outfit. I put on some grey cargo pants and a white top. I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth and hair and put on makeup. I liked to have my makeup kinda natural but still glowy. You could still see my freckles really well because of the sunny weather. I put in my earrings and a silver necklace with a small shark charm. I have always loved the sea since I was a little kid and was most fascinated by sharks. When I saw them I wasn’t scared like most people, I would just admire them. I loved aquariums but my parents wouldn’t let me get one, not even for some small fishes. We did have a pool in the backyard so sometimes I would just imagine swimming with sharks. I never told anyone about my obsession with sharks, I was scared they would find it weird or frightening. I didn’t make it too obvious, just the necklace and a small shark figurine on my desk. I could talk hours about the ocean, to myself.

I walked downstairs and sat down to eat. I put some cereal in my bowl and poured milk in top of it. My dad had already left for work and my mom was still asleep. I was an only child so every morning I would be alone. I liked the peace, no fighting and screaming. I didn’t even understand why they were still together, I think my mother is too scared to leave. They have been together for more than half of their lives. They didn’t know what life was like without each other anymore. I finished my breakfast when I heard a horn outside. Josh was here to pick me up.

I walked up to the passenger side and opened the door. “Hey, ready for the first day of senior year?” Josh asked. “I guess.” I answered. “You guess.” He repeated laughing. Josh has been my best friend since kindergarten. I could tell him everything, I trusted him the most out of everyone. Kira and Aiden were sitting in the backseat. They have been dating for a few months now and couldn’t leave each other’s side. “Are you guys ready?” I asked turning my head to the backseat. “No.” Aiden said. Kira agreed. I left out a small chuckle. The whole ride to school we just listened to music and talked. Circles by post Malone was now playing. I always loved that song. We arrived at school and I let out a small sigh. Josh looked over at me. “You good?” He asked. “Yeah.” I smiled. “Just a bit nervous.” “Oh okay, alright let’s go.” Josh said. We got out of the car. Me and Kira went to the bathroom real quick and Josh and Aiden already walked up to class.

“So you excited to be a senior?” Kira asked. “Yeah I guess, but I kinda like being at school with you guys.” I replied. She agreed. “It’s kinda sad that after this year we won’t be going here again.” Kira said. “Yeah but luckily we still have a year and stop now before I cry.” We laugh. “Okay, okay alright let’s go to class. We don’t wanna be late the first day.” Kira said. We walked to class and sat down in the middle. “Okay welcome class, are you ready for senior year?” The teacher asked. No one reacted. “We also have some new students joining us.” Three boys walked into class, they looked alike but there were still some differences. I looked at all three of them but my eyes stayed on one of them. He had dark brown hair which fell over his forehead, he had these magnificent blue eyes and pink lips. He had tattoos on both of his arms and that outfit that damn outfit. He was wearing blue jeans and a black t shirt. I scanned him head to toe when I noticed his earrings, we were wearing the same ones. The Vivienne Westwood planet studs. I didn’t realize I was staring until all of the sudden I made eye contact with him. I quickly looked away and pulled my hair from behind my ear and let it fall in front of my face. I felt my face getting red as I tried looking back. He was still looking at me, I felt his gaze, it was strong. I quickly looked over at Kira. “Yo they are hot.” She whispered. “Kira you can’t say that, you have a boyfriend.” She scoffed and looked back at the teacher. “Boys please introduce yourselves.” “Hi I’m Nick Sturniolo.” One of them says. He also had some tattoos and a nose ring. “Im Chris Sturniolo.” Another one says. He had no tattoos. “I’m Matt Sturniolo.” The last boy said. So his name is Matt. “Hi boys, welcome to class.” They nodded as they walked to their seats. Matt sat in front of me on the right. I stared at his back for almost the whole class until we got assigned an assignment. I quickly looked over at Kira. “What do we need to do?” I asked her. She laughed. “Were you to busy staring?” She asked. “No I-I wasn’t, shut up.” I said feeling myself get a bit red. “Alright well we need to read the first chapter and then answer question 1-20.” She said. “Oh okay thanks.”

-

We were sitting at lunch and I still couldn’t stop thinking about him, Matt. “Yo y/n, you coming This Saturday?” Aiden asked. I snapped out of my thoughts and looked up. “Mmh what.” He smiled. “Are you coming this Saturday ?” “What’s Saturday?” I asked. “Jake’s party, he invited all seniors.” Aiden said. “Uhm sure I’ll come.” I said. “Yayy!” Kira said as she hugged me. I smiled at her. I looked around the cafeteria and saw him again, Matt sitting with his brothers. I have never had a boyfriend, I have never kissed or anything else. I have never really liked anyone nor loved anyone. Of coarse I love my friends and I do love my parents but not in that way not love love. But why did he stay in my mind what was different about him? I decided to just try and ignore it but could I?

-

After school Josh dropped me off at my house. I walked up to the door and reached for my keys. I could already hear the screaming through the door. I unlocked the door and walked in. It went quiet. “Hey honey how was school?” My mom asked. “Fine.” I said. Before I knew it, the yelling started again. I ran up to my room and slammed the door. I put down my bag and turned on my box. Again by Noah Cyrus and xxxtentacion played throughout the speakers. When music was on I could just forget about my problems and enjoy the sound of it. I couldn’t hear the yelling anymore and I opened my phone. I sat down on my bed and I clicked on instagram. Before I knew it I had typed in his name, Matt Sturniolo I tapped on search and clicked on the first profile that popped up. It was him. He had a few posts, I scrolled through them. I jumped as my mom barged into my room. My phone flew out of my hands. “Y/n put that music down right now!” I just looked at her. “Why are you on your phone, don’t you have homework.” She asked with a mad look on her face. She would always find a reason to get mad at me after she just fought with my dad. “Can’t I relax for a bit, geez.” I said. “Don’t give me an attitude now young lady, go on make your homework.” She walked out of my room. I sighed as I reached for my phone who was now laying beside me. “SHIT!” I said out loud.

I slammed my hand on my mouth. I had accidentally liked his post, probably when my mom barged in. I quickly unliked it and hopefully he didn’t see the notification. I felt so embarrassed. What if he noticed? I put on my headphones since there was complaints about the loud music. I started making my homework but I couldn’t focus that well. I kept thinking about me accidentally liking his post. He also definitely saw me staring at him today at class. I opened my phone again. Phew, no instagram notifications. I left out a small sigh. I quickly clicked away his profile and deleted my search history. I decided to text Josh.

To Josh

Hey watcha doing?

From Josh

Hi just watching some TikTok, you?

To Josh

Idk I tried making the homework but can’t really focus lol

From Josh

Oh why’s that? Do you want me to send you the answers or come over and help?

To Josh

No you don’t need to do that I can do it

From Josh

Y/n please just let me help you’re my best friend

To Josh

Okay fine please send them

From josh

Np 🤗

*Josh send 4 photos*

To Josh

Ily thanksss🫶🏻

I finished the homework thanks to Josh’s answers. I am so thankful to have him as my best friend. He was always there for me. “Dinner’s ready!” I hear my mom yelling from downstairs. Ugh I kinda liked the peace in my room. I walked downstairs and sat down. “What are we eating?” I asked. “Just some pizza.” My mom answered. “Oh okay.” I answered. I was kinda excited to eat pizza until I saw what was on the table. “What is that?” I asked. “Pizza.” My mom answered. “Well it doesn’t look like it.” I said. “Eat or eat nothing.” My mom answered. On the table was a green round thing with cheese and weird greenies on it, It was probably one of those *healthy* recipes my mom found online. I ate the ‘pizza’ and acted like I liked it. I didn’t want my mom to get mad at me again. After dinner I went up to my room again and laid down on my bed. Before I knew it I was thinking about him again. Why did I keep thinking about him. I never thought about a boy so much and not like this. Not about how fine he was, about his gaze passing mine, about his eyes, about his tattoos or about his lips. Damn those lips. They were a pinkish colour, I wondered what they would feel like on mine. I shrugged my head. I had never kissed how can I think about it right now, with him. I didn’t even know how to kiss. I didn’t even know him, I didn’t know Matt and I didn’t know what he was like. Maybe he was a player, maybe he wasn’t even nice. I jumped out of my thoughts as I heard my phone ring. I picked it up.

*Incoming call Kira🤓🩷*

I picked up.

“Heyy” Kira said. “Heyy” I said back. “Watcha doing, I’m bored.” Kira said. “Nothing really just chilling on my phone.” I said. I couldn’t tell her that I was thinking about Matt, the new boy. “Owh wanna do something?” She asked. “Wanna come over and go for a swim?” I asked. “Hell yes, be there in 15.” Kira said. I hung up the phone and walked over to my closet to grab a bikini. I grabbed a baby blue bikini and put it on. Blue was my favorite color of coarse, blue just like the ocean. I put my hair in a bun and grabbed an towel. I already walked to the backyard and placed down my towel on a chair. I sat down waiting for Kira. I turned on my box and soft rap music was playing through it. After a while Kira finally arrived. “Hey girl.” She said as she already jumped in the pool. I let out a laugh. “Hey to you too.” “Come in.” Kira said. I jumped in and made a small squeal. The water was cold on my skin. “Geez it’s freezing.” I said. “Don’t be such an pussy.” Kira said. Kira was part of the swimming team from our school so she was used to cold water. We swam together and just talked for a while. “I’m getting out, it’s too cold.” I said. Kira scoffed. “Well I’m staying for a bit.” I walked back over to my chair as I saw some familiar faces in the corner of my eye. I looked over to the left through my gate and I saw them walking. The triplets were walking past my house! I felt goosebumps come over me as I saw that Matt his eyes were on me. I was in my bikini and he saw me! He looked so good. He was wearing a red hat backwards with his hair falling at the sides. He also had a white t shirt and red shorts that matched the hat. I loved that color red, it was a dark red color. I almost folded at the sight of him. I saw that he had a small smirk on his face. I led out a little smile as I walked to my chair.

————————————★—————————————

A/n 🜸 hope you liked it! This is actually the first series I’m writing. Leave feedback plss 🙏Next part Matt’s pov.

[tsippi]

Hello!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Your hair is purple. You know what else is purple? Red and blue mixed together. Yknow who are red and blue? Grian and someone else Uhhhh LDshadowlady in empires one. Ok. Grian and empires one LDshadowlady. Yknow who else is grian and ldshadowlady? No one because they are ✨ unique ✨ at this point I would be relatively surprised if you didn’t at least have a guess towards who I am. But. That’s not the question at hand right now. Your hair. It is also made out of keratin, just like rhinoceros horns. What else has horns? That’s right, dragons. Now, based on your description, I can conclude that you like dragons BUT I will now in investigate your possible dragonesque identity. Just like dragons, we have established that you both have keratin growing out of your heads. Similarly, dragons are rumored to be unnaturally colored, just like your hair. We also know that grian and LDshadowlady have both at some point in their careers worn an elytra. Elytra have wings - dragons have wings. I don’t think I need to explain this one. Now, as I have been told to go to sleep, I rest (haha get it) my case.

Alright. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure this post is just telling me I am a dragon? In a very roundabout way that appeals to quite a few of my interests. Now to address the rest of your post? Ask? Not sure what the terminology is, but anyway. You said that my hair was purple and that purple was a combination of red and blue. Both statements are correct, to my knowledge. You then gave examples of both a red and a blue character. I fully agree with both Grian as red and LDShadowlady (ESMP1) as blue, and would also like to offer other characters associated with these colours. I offer up TangoTek as red, due to his skin’s red eyes and outfit, and red being frequently depicted on him in various forms. For blue I give Smajor1995, for reasons I deem obvious. You then bring up that my hair is made of keratin, which is the same material as typical animal horns. This is also fully true (I think). You then bring up my love of dragons. This is true. I like dragons, and think they are very cool. You then bring up a list of evidence pointing towards me being a dragon, which is well formatted and logical, though the evidence is somewhat flimsy. Even so, this has shown that I need to do a better job blending in with the humans if I wish to fit in better in society and not at all to collect more information on the humans. Also, unless you are Tvvigjuice, I have no guesses as to your identity. Now as I reach the end of your message, and thus the end of my own, I wish you a good night and a peaceful rest. Goodbye and goodnight! -Tsippi, totally not a dragon spying on the human race.

[authenticcadence18]

Twice this week I have received comments on Can’t Help Falling in Love critiquing my use of tags and I’m just like?

those “extra” tags have been there for four years? no im not going to delete them?? I think if it truly was a big issue one of my moots/writer friends would’ve brought it up to me by now???

I use tags to express my creative voice and personality. And I DO include lots of real tags.

if someone makes something FOR FREE and it’s not harmful maybe just say what you like about it and move on?

like? do yall like my tags?? have my tags dissuaded you from checking out my stuff??? because I’ve been posting on ao3 since 2019 and this is the first time anyone has ever brought it up :/

[nich0las-foster]

… Wait, do you mean the Lark that tried to kill me?

oh hey we have the same name. ish? uh... what's up?

- nick

Nothing at all. Which Nick are you?

[musclesandhammering]

Ok I get that the Chaos/Order thing is a big theme this season, but I stg if they try to make Loki embody order while sylvie embodies chaos… I’m breaking up with marvel for real this time 😒.

[sunlightfeeling]

I actually really hate how compelled I am to write out my feelings for all of these solos lmfao

…

I finally listened to “Style” properly (he performed it on his Go with the Flow con which I think spun me out on SMAP shit badly)

Fuck him…that is all (my tags are useless puddles this time but enjoy????)

actually not all: this played while I was still working and I had to sign off for the day…i mean it was about time to leave anyway but i was not getting anymore work done LOL

i got weak SO fast…like right when the song came on, my mouth fell open and I just got insta-chills

I HAD TO PUT MY HEAD DOWN ON MY DESK CUZ OF THIS SONG WHO TF AM I OMG

[motthe]

Maybe some Young! Silco fic? (Or anything that you wanna do) I already loved his older version but his Young self in The last episodes got my heart in a grip 😭💖💖 He looks so full of dreams and maybe a little silly. Maybe with a energetic/chaotic significant other!

young!silco also has me in a death grip don't worry. hope you enjoy this!!

warnings: fem!reader, violence, sexual innuendos, secondhand embarrassment for drunk rambling

“It’s doable!”

“Doable and survivable are two very different things.”

Vander knocked his head against the metal backing of his mining gloves repeatedly, aching for the two of you to come to a compromise. The light of the fungi matched the tink tink tink of his patience running thin.

Crunching footsteps had him pausing, one eye opening to find Felicia pushing her helmet up higher on her head as she stared at you and Silco just beyond, still very much squabbling. She leaned on her hip, one hand rising to rest on it as she smiled down at Vander’s hunched form.

“Are they still arguing about the gap?” she whispered.

He groaned quietly instead of answering. It was all she needed.

“I can make it!” you protested, arms gesturing to the other side of the ravine. “I’ve jumped buildings twice the distance.”

“When you’re jumping buildings you can see the ground,” Silco argued, pointing to the darkness below. “We don’t know how long a fall that is, you absolute lunatic.”

“You’ve gotta hand it to her,” Felicia chuckled, taking up camp next to Vander. “No one else would even think of jumping across.”

“She’s an adrenaline junkie,” Vander muttered. “Jumping off shit is all she thinks about.”

“Would you—just let me—damn it, Sil!”

The shuffle of boots and clothes had both of their heads turning, watching with equally amused expressions as Silco passed by with you being half carried half dragged away from the ravine. Silco didn’t pay them a glance as he went. You kept stretching back the way you came, struggling but not truly putting all your energy into it. Felicia could tell. You loved being his center of attention for as long as possible, even if it kept you away from your wild pastimes. 

The sound of a horn echoed through the caves, sending the fungi white with the sound. The work day was finished. 

“Back to the last drop, then?” Felicia hummed, standing and offering a hand to the big man. He accepted it with a soft grin, following her out. The two of them watched Silco far ahead, who was now fully carrying you in your grieved state. You kept muttering you could have made it.

“Think they’ll ever get together?” she hummed, nudging Vander.

“Wish they would,” he sighed. “It was annoying years ago, now its just pitiful.”

She laughed, waving a hand at you when you pulled your head up from Silco’s shoulder to eye them. “Well, she’ll never do it. She’s convinced herself he’s too focused on our cause to ever settle down.”

“Some days I think the same thing,” Vander said, introspective when she glanced up at him, “others, I catch him looking at her. He doesn’t open up, barely does around us, but…”

“Disappears around her, yeah?” She smiled at him and he mirrored her, nodding.

Later that night, the Last Drop was bustling with the newest record added to the box. You’re dancing over chairs, running across the edge of the pool tables as people chant your name. Someone tossed a mug through the air and you caught it, swallowing the contents down and cheering with the rest before continuing on with dancing. 

Silco watched from his bar seat. He had cruel timing, turning his eyes back to his notebook when you pulled yourself away from the crowd to glance at him. To you, he was lost in his own world, but really he fell into yours quite easily. You were distracting. He perked up at the sound of your voice without meaning to, knew the outline of your body in his periphery. Abrasive and chaotic. You’re too much, too loud.

Too perfect for someone as withdrawn and stiff as him.

“Oh, heaven help me,” Vander grumbled, both hands on the bar as he stared at the scene. Silco paused to raise an eyebrow at him. “She just downed three shots in one.”

“How many does that make it now?” he questioned.

“Eight.”

Both of their heads dropped, knowing how the night would be going.

“All right, I give!” Felcia slammed a hand on the bar as she walked up, panting. “I can’t keep up with her. Gods. Where does she get the energy?”

Vander passed her a drink as Silco shrugged, music blaring all around them. Felicia scowled when she noticed his journal. 

“Oh, c’mon, Silco. Let loose for a bit!” she shouted over the din of the bar, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

“If I did that, nothing would ever get done around here,” he returned, smirking as she rolled her eyes. 

The counter shook under them, the second bang of Vander’s fist sending both of them on high alert. Two meant trouble. 

Felicia spun around, Silco turned in his seat. There by the record player you were backed against the wall by a man, one arm caging you in while his fingers pinched your chin. The cold look in your eyes had a shiver streaking down Silco's spine. You were a storm like this and he’d been lost to it for years. 

The man said something that made you scoff, batting his hand away and sliding to get out from under him. As his hand grabbed your upper arm Silco realized he was no longer sitting. Even across the room he could read your lips.

“Last chance. Beat it,” you warned.

The man laughed and tugged you closer, it sent your knee right between his legs. When he bent over, Silco heard the crack as your fist met the man’s jaw. He hit the ground, dead weight. 

Fuck, he thought, hands curling into fists at his side. You were perfect.

You stumbled back a few steps. It seemed those shots had soaked in. You were cradling your hand as yells broke out, slow to turn as a couple of goons stood from a table nearby.

“Great,” Felicia puffed, pushing off the bar, “he had lackeys.”

Vander shouted as they ran at you, Silco was halfway to you when you dodged the first swing, putting you straight into the path of another. Your back hit the record player, a scratch disrupting the music. The entire bar turned, regulars rushing forward without second thought and jumping the goons. 

Silco went straight to you, mindful of the chair Felicia was brandishing overhead as she flew into the meat of the fight. 

“Let me see,” he said, sliding a hand under your jaw and tilting your head back. You were hunching, still holding that hand of yours to your chest. 

“Hey, Sil,” you slurred, grinning and wincing. Your lower lip was busted, the right side of your face already beginning to swell from the jaw up. “Can you believe that guy? Down in one hit, hah!”

“Still have all your teeth?” he asked, wiping the blood trailing from the corner of your mouth. 

“What? You want me to open wide for you?”

He ticked a brow, scowling through the heat that flashed through his stomach. 

“Come on, let’s get ice on that,” he muttered, wrapping an arm around you. You hummed happily, falling into his side. Even as drunk as you were, your feet barely stumbled as he led you to the basement door. He nodded to Vander who already had the same idea, coming around the back of the bar to pass him an ice pack and a clean rag. He thanked him.

“Take care of her,” Vander said, rubbing a hand over your back. You tossed the big man a smile before he returned to his station.

“Keep that on there,” Silco said to you, heart aching as you hissed at the touch of it. 

“I’ve got it,” you muttered, hand brushing his. He made sure you kept it pressed to your cheek before opening the door and helping you in first, careful of the stairs as he closed it behind him. The sounds of fighting and the skipping music was muffled as he led you into the bowels of the Last Drop, setting you down gently on the couch.

He reached for your hand, frowning when you turned away from him. 

“Let me see,” he said.

“It’s fine,” you grumbled, curling into the couch.

“I’d like to see that for myself,” he pushed, fingers gentle as they smoothed over your wrist. Your furrowed brow relaxed a bit, watery eyes trailing to him. “Let me see,” he asked again, softer.

You sighed, the weight of your arm settling into his palm as he moved to sit next to you. You hand shook in both of his, the skin of your knuckles ripped open and gushing red. When he attempted to move your pointer and middle fingers you whimpered, head falling into his shoulder.

He apologized, pulling one hand away to reach into his jacket. “It’s sprained. I’ll need to wrap it.”

“Sweet Sil,” you sighed, your good cheek rubbing against his shoulder as you brought your knees up, “always prepared for the worst.”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t constantly getting into trouble,” he hummed, pulling out a roll of bandages and beginning his work. You curled into him as he cleaned you up, tensing when he secured your bruised digits. As he tied the bandages off around your wrist, he sighed, holding your hand in his, thumb running over your skin. 

“M’sorry,” you sniffed.

He turned his head, a breath punched from his lungs as he saw tears slipping down your cheeks. The ice pack laid abandoned in your lap. 

“What are you apologizing for?” he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face. 

“I always make a mess,” you whispered, little gasps slipping. Each one was a bullet to his chest. He couldn’t stand seeing you cry. “I always annoy you.”

“No,” he murmured, arms stretching over you to pull you into his lap, “no, you don’t annoy me, pet.”

“Yes, I do,” you sobbed. “I get into t-trouble when I-when I just want you to look at me.”

Oh, Gods help him. He knew this was the alcohol talking but the hopeful flame in his heart was burning into a torch. He needed to calm you down and get you to bed. 

“I’m looking,” he said, lips grazing your forehead as he rubbed your back. “You don’t have to try so hard. I’m always looking.”

You sniffed and he grabbed the bloody rag, nudging the cleanest corner towards you to blow your nose. He chuckled when you groaned, curling deeper into his chest.

“Too drunk for this,” you mumbled. “Stupid shots.”

“Stupid shots, indeed,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Let's get you some water and go to bed.”

You whined, hiding your face in his neck. “Wanna stay here. M’warm.”

He sighed, settling into the couch. Eventually you would nod off. He’d carry you into bed, then.

“Hair’s nice.”

“What?” he chuckled, trying to look down at you, but it was impossible with you smushed up against him.

“Your hair,” you said, lips moving against his neck. “I like it when it’s bun. Hair frames your face nice. S’handsome.”

You’re going to hate yourself in the morning, he thought, holding back his laughter. You were never going to live this down and he wasn’t nearly nice enough to not tease you about this for the rest of your life. 

“Face hurts,” you sighed. He rubbed your calf, shushing you.

“Sleep, pet,” he murmured against your forehead. 

“You’ll stay?” you asked.

“I’ll stay,” he promised.

[deathsmallcaps]

While touring on the San Diego duck vehicles, we actually caught a glimpse of the navy training dolphins and sea lions. According to the guide, the sea lions were much better at being food motivated and trustworthy, but the dolphins were a bit more agile and quick, so that’s why they use both. They find and ‘tell’ the military where underwater mines are and such

I’m generally against the military, and I’m kind of against using animals in such dangerous jobs. But regardless of my feelings, it’s happening. And I’ve been wondering for a while how ethically involved are these animals. Like, are they domesticated? Are dolphins really that smart, enough that they can consent to this sort of thing? I know they need lots of mental stimulation, like border collies but even more. And I figure this is the right post to ask.

(Also for the record I am 99% sure the duck vehicle company respected the animals well, and asked us not to feed them at all. It’s been about 2 years since I went so I may not remember everything but they seemed good to me)

I think it's a common misconception that domesticating animals is somewhat like enslaving them. It really is more of a symbiotic relationship. No wild animal would have willingly put up with early humans if they didn't get something out of it. Wolves wouldn't have stayed with us and become dogs if they weren't getting food and safety out of it. Many large herbivores that are now domesticated could and would have easily trampled their early human captors or broken their enclosures open if they didn't have a reason to stay. Sometimes individual animals still do if we don't give them what they need.

The animals that have stayed with us for thousands of years have evolved to cooperate with us better. Dogs have additional facial muscles around their eyes that wolves lack in order to mimic human facial expressions. Sheep grow their wool perpetually while their wild counterparts don't because a bigger fleece means they're more likely to be allowed to breed and be kept around. Domestic dairy cows produce much more milk than wild bovine species and domestic hens lay more eggs. Do you know how energy costly producing eggs or milk is for an animal? It's pretty intense! They wouldn't be able to do that if we hadn't given them the food and safety from predators and the elements to.

And we really need to show these animals respect and gratitude for what they give us by taking excellent care of them. They gave up a lot to be with us, often including the means to take care of themselves in the wild. That's a huge reason why I'm not against using animal products, but I hate factory farming. They are still living, breathing creatures with needs and feelings. They deserve a comfortable life and, when the time comes, a humane death.

[paarksunghoon]

Sunghoon trying to stay sane and respectful but your love for mini skirts and barely there tops are testing his patience day by day. He's not a horn dog but God when you press against him, so soft, so pretty and oh so naive..do you not notice your entire cleavage hanging out for his eyes to drink in, or the skirt riding up your luscious thighs as you rant about your day?

as someone who wears mini skirts all the time…nbgngngn. i’m also pretty high but reading this really put a number on me so sorry for typos lol

***

Sunghoon is a skirt chaser.

He’s always loved seeing girls wearing them since it made their legs look longer. It didn’t matter much to him—short girls or tall girls—he loved seeing ass peeking out from under the skirt and how they’d always tug at the hem to pull it down. Sunghoon doesn’t date much either (although that definitely wasn’t because nobody wanted him like that either; he wasn’t looking for that type of commitment).

He loved the kind of skirts that paired well for going out. Sure, the solid color staples pieces were cute. But the way silk touches the skin and how hips sway in these fabrics was enough to make his mouth salivate.

When you started wearing them, Sunghoon became perplexed.

You, his best friend since twelve, seemed to have ditched jeans and long dresses for short skirts and baby tees. In the past few months, he’s seen you switch up your wardrobe to the point where he was sure you had more than enough mini skirts to last you a lifetime. They came in all colors and styles, one for every color underneath the rainbow and then some. His friends all noticed this too, eyes following your ass every time you walked in front of them. That made him mad.

The thing is, you have an amazing ass and your tits always sit so pretty. He tries not to stare and gawk at you every time you wear these kinds of clothes. You keep it fairly tame when you’re in broad daylight and push the boundaries on a night out. You don’t seem to care that his friends stare at you every time you try to cover yourself up from a gust of wind or when you bend down. Sunghoon has probably seen your panties too many times.

He really doesn’t understand why all of these feelings are bubbling up. He’s seen you in bikinis and didn’t react like this. Sunghoon is confused but that doesn’t stop his dick from getting hard every time he pictures your outfits when he’s in the safety of his bedroom.

His favorite way to get off is by pushing his back against the bed frame and spreading his legs, holding his fist in a circle and he pumps himself up and down. Sunghoon pictures you riding him in one of your infamous mini skirts, looking up at the ceiling and imagining what you’d look like on top of him. He thinks about how he’d look down and the dirty affair would be covered by the fabric, as if thinking about fucking your best friend wasn’t weird.

Sunghoon is pulled back to reality when you squeeze his bicep in lieu of a greeting.

“Do you have our tickets?”

He nearly jumps out of his skin. “Jesus, Y/N. You need to warn a guy before you creep up on them.”

“All I did was touch your arm!” His cheeks feel hot as you laugh. “Were you in deep thought, or something?”

His eyes flicker to the shortest skirt he’s ever seen you wear but scoffs, playing it off. “Nah. You’re as quiet as a mouse.”

“Well this mouse wants to go inside.”

You don’t wait for him to answer you. Sunghoon feels you tug him by the hand towards the security line in front of the concert venue. You’ve been a bit more physical with him lately, tugging on his arm and sifting your fingers through his hair whenever he’d lay his head on top of yours. He only ever means to for a brief second in the way friends do, but he hesitates to pull away once you tug at his roots.

The artist is a band you two discovered a few years back and he was in charge of buying the concert tickets for the both of you. Sunghoon sees the fruit of his labor pay off when you’re both standing inside after you both pass through security. The venue is crowded and small, but you’re sure everybody is too high out of their minds to notice people bumping into them anyway.

As the two of you walk closer towards the middle, it starts to get tighter. Sunghoon moves you in front of him and puts his hands on your waist to guide you and doesn’t mind that your arms are resting on top of his.

You don’t move away from him once you’ve joined others either. He noticed that you’re a bit shorter than everyone else around you. “Do you want to get on my shoulders during your favorite songs?”

“No, that’s okay. I want to dance.”

He looks down at your skirt. “Mhm, let me know if you change your mind.

The two of you wait until the show begins and you’re talking to him about how excited you are for tonight but all he can think about is how he could cop a feel if he really wanted to. The skirt you’re wearing provides him easy access to touch you but he refuses to act on his urges, often flexing his fingers to calm himself down.

Halfway through the show and everyone is having a great time. You’ve danced for an hour straight and feel your legs wobbling after jumping and screaming the lyrics to Sunghoon. He’s a bit taken aback when you rest your back against his chest but tries not to think too much into it.

But you stay like that for a while and he can feel the fabric of your skirt. He toys with it absentmindedly as he nods his head to the melody until he feels your legs tensing against him. When he looks down, your thighs are squished together.

Fuck. He wonders if you’re horny.

Sunghoon hooks his chin over your shoulder and peeks down below to where his hands graze the hem of your mini skirts. When you don’t motion for him to move away, he grunts when his hands start to disappear and moans directly in your ear when his fingers touch your panties. It’s only then does he realize how wet you are.

His other arm is secured over your waist and you grip onto him at the sudden contact across your blooming core. He swipes his index and middle fingers back and forth to gauge just how wet you’ve become, smearing it all over your panties. It brings a gasp out of you and he pushes his lap against your ass.

It’s too much and he’s too hard. Neither of you are paying much attention to the show anymore, too wrapped up in your own little world to focus on anything else. Sunghoon nearly moans out loud when he realizes you’re allowing him to hump you from behind.

“Are you trying to ruin this friendship?”

Sunghoon feels you nod against him and the two of you head out of the venue and into his car. He tries to keep it in his pants on the ten minute drive back to his apartment. You don’t fuss when Sunghoon shoves his hand between your legs and keeps rubbing over your pussy as he drives, one hand on the wheel while he plays with you. Your best friend bites his lip and tenses when arousal gushes out of you.

“Recline and open your legs wider, baby.” You do as he says and he pats your clit twice. “Good girl, listening to me like that.” He switches his ministrations and brings his thumb to rub over your clit in back and forth motions. “Need to make sure you stay wet.”

And stay wet you do. You’re wet all the way home where he locks the two of you in his place until he’s dropping to his knees and pushing your chest against the wall. Sunghoon puts his face between your legs and licks up the arousal clinging to your panties while spreading your cheeks apart with his big hands, squeezing when you yelp.

He pulls the pathetic fabric aside and sticks his tongue into you, prying yourself open for his viewing. His warmth breath fans over your core and it has you pushing back against his face until his tongue licks you up in repeated motions.

Sunghoon doesn’t really care that he’s too horny for foreplay and neither do you, apparently, because when you hear sunghoon unzip his pants and take them off, you’re taking your panties off and taking your shoes off too. He grabs himself and aligns his tip with your hole before pushing all of himself inside.

You’re so wet. It’s so hot. He fucks you like he’s got enough stamina to last a lifetime and your tits bounce against the walls at the pace he’s set. He pulls back far enough that he nearly slips out every time but without fail, Sunghoon will make sure his dick stays wet the entire time you’re with him.

He pulls you back onto the couch with his cock still lodged inside of you, manhandling your body until he’s got you on his lap and your feet are placed by his knees. Sunghoon pushes his hips upwards and fucks you like this, balls slapping your clit with every thrust. He moans when you moan, the emptiness of his apartment filled up by erotic noises that only spur on his orgasm.

Your release triggers his. When he feels your cum seeping down onto the base, Sunghoon shoots his thick ropes into you but doesn’t stop thrusting. Albeit lazier and more random, he keeps his frantic pace and lets you dig your fingers into him while you wonder how your best friend made you cum so fast.

“Fuck!” you moan when Sunghoon pulls out just to push himself back in once he’s made your body lay in front of him.

“You’re so fucking sexy in these things.” He acknowledges the skirt by flipping the fabric with his fingers. Sunghoon doesn’t give you enough time to reply but you’re too busy moaning to care about the consequences anyway. “Wear them more often and I’ll fuck you like this every time.”

Since when is your best friend so good at dirty talk?!

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! xx

[wandaslovey]

ᴍʀꜱ. ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴏꜰꜰ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴏᴡ

➺ dom!wandanat x sub!fem!reader

word count ~ 7k

authors note: i’m so excited to share this with you guys - this was so much fun to write! i’m planning on writing the first few parts as chapters where one will pick up right after the other and then once i get to a certain point i’ll do random time skips within the same au. oh also! i’m starting a tag list, so comment below if you’d like to be included on the next chapter! enjoy loves! 💕 as usual, this is not proofread.

content warning(s): legal age gap (w=30, n=33, r=23), natasha and wanda being two hot intimidating lawyers (except natasha kinda steals this show in this part, especially in the beginning. don’t worry though, wanda will have her time to shine!), conversation about kinkery and reader knows very little

if you’d like to read the drabble that inspired this series, click here

═════════════

you stand in front of the mirror, adjusting your white button-up blouse for the 10th time. you huff, frustrated that your wardrobe just wouldn’t cooperate with you this morning. as you look yourself over in the mirror—the rest of your outfit consisting of a mid-thigh black pencil skirt, some black nylons and black combat boots—you couldn’t help but wonder if your attire was okay for the interview.

the interview…you can’t believe you landed an interview at thee M.R. law firm. you knew how unqualified you were for the position, so you felt extra pressure to compensate somehow with your appearance.

you turn to the side in the mirror, first left and then right, scrutinizing yourself at every angle. you readjust the pieces of hair framing your face that you pulled out of your bun, before deciding you’d done all you could to look your best.

you glance at the clock on your nightstand in the reflection of the mirror, seeing it was time to go. you grab your knock-off brand purse and slip out of your apartment. when you walk down the stairs and open the door to the outside, the noise from the city fills your ears. the sounds of cars, horns, sirens, music and people all blended together, creating a sort of hum all new-yorkers were familiar with. you step out onto the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding some tourists that were taking a picture in front of the trendy restaurant you lived by. you hail a cab, quickly sliding into the backseat and telling the driver your destination.

now that you were settled in your seat with only the taxi drivers quiet music to distract you, the nerves you’d been attempting to snub out suddenly hit you full force. there was no way you could do this. you were sure you were just wasting your own time and the poor person who had to interview you. you knew your 6 months working as a receptionist at a dentist office nowhere near qualified you to manage things at M.R. law. you mentally curse yourself, thinking you must’ve been half asleep and entirely too desperate when you sent in your application at this place. you needed a job though—urgently. with your roommate moving back home, and no one else taking her place, you were stuck with paying the rent on your own. on top of that, you were still paying back loans for school. you knew you should cut your losses, leave new york and transfer to a much more affordable school, but you really wanted to stay as much as you could help it.

every stoplight you hit along the 20 minute drive only makes you more nervous. the fluttery feeling in your stomach turns into full blown pterodactyls by the time the driver has pulled up to the very tall M.R. building. you pass some folded up cash to the driver, mumbling out a quiet ‘thank you,’ and then step out of the car. you stare up at the intimidating building, the lettering of “maximoff-romanoff law” taunting you—daring you to step inside. you let out a stubborn exhale, squaring your shoulders and walking in with a confidence as fake as grape flavored candy.

you stride over to the front desk, noticing that the only employees in sight are all women.

“hi, i’m here for an 11 o’clock interview,” you tell one of the women behind the desk. she offers you a polite smile, giving you instructions to head into the elevator and up to the 8th floor. you nod your head, thanking her and make your way to your doomsday interview.

as the elevator doors shut behind you, you find yourself all alone in the small space. there was no background music to distract you now. you stare at the floor, noticing a slight glint to the black tiles you were standing on. you listen to the beeps counting up each floor, your eyes dragging up the stainless steel panel when the number reads 8 and the final beep sounds. the doors open and you’re immediately greeted with the sight of more women pacing around the place. some seemed to be in a rush while others were leisurely walking across the floor while chatting with a co-worker. you walk over to the front desk again, repeating what you had told the other kind lady downstairs. she gestures for you to take a seat on the couch in the waiting area, letting you know someone will grab you in a few minutes.

you take a seat on the black leather couch, figuring this piece of furniture probably costed more than the rent for your apartment. you cross your legs, interlocking your fingers together at your knee. you glance around the office, taking in the decor. it was very tasteful, some touches of greenery that went nicely with the black and dark woodsy vibe this floor was going for. you try your best to ignore the bile rising in your throat and the pterodactyls still swarming in your stomach. it was a good thing you didn’t eat breakfast this morning.

as two minutes turns into ten, and then fifteen, you can’t help but feel the urge to just get up and leave. you felt so out of place here; you couldn’t imagine working at this place with all these women who were so obviously out of your league.

just as you were settling on the idea of ditching this interview, you hear clacking footsteps making their way over to you. you didn’t dare look up yet, pretending to be very interested in the tiny hole in your pantyhose just above your knee.

“miss (y/l/n)?” the most heavenly, sultry voice calls out to you. your eyes slowly trail along the tile, up the woman’s legs covered in black slacks, her blouse and matching black suit jacket, and then finally her face. it was her.

thee mrs. romanoff.

mrs. romanoff was the person who was going to interview you? you couldn’t believe your eyes, or the situation. you clear your throat, realizing you had yet to acknowledge her calling out to you.

“yeah, that’s me,” you reply, standing on slightly wobbly legs. you watch as mrs. romanoff’s eyes slowly take in your appearance, her eyes lingering on your frame. you feel a little scrutinized, wondering if you really did mess up with what you were wearing.

“follow me.” she turns and leads the way. you stumble a bit as you follow behind her, not expecting her to have as long of a stride as she does.

“you’ll have to forgive me for the wait—we had a couple meetings run over this morning,” she talks to you over her shoulder, slowing her walk a little when she notices you’re not directly behind her like she thought.

“oh, no worries. i didn’t mind the wait.” that was technically a lie, but it wasn’t the wait that bothered you as much as the fact that you were left alone with your thoughts a little too long.

she rounds a corner at the end of the hall, pausing and gesturing for you to enter in one of the two doors that were side by side on the wall to the right. you walk through the doorframe, stepping into what you assumed was her personal office.

“have a seat, miss (y/l/n),” she says in a low voice, walking from behind you and around her desk to sit in her chair. you sit in one of the two chairs across from her, your heart thudding violently in your chest from being in such close proximity to her.

you adjust your seating position three times before finally settling in place, forcing yourself to sit still. mrs. romanoff humors you, remaining silent and patient through your nervous fidgeting.

“so, i have to say i was a little surprised to see your application come through to my desk,” she starts and you immediately feel your cheeks grow hot, the feeling of being in a place you don’t belong filling your whole body with dread.

she pauses, and you realize she was waiting for you to respond. right. this was supposed to be where you attempt to prove yourself adequate to work in this position.

“yes, um… well, admittedly i myself did think it was a stretch to apply here, but then i figured, i’m a fast learner, i’m very thorough in all i do and i enjoy learning new things. i thought i’d try my hand at something i haven’t done before.” you rattle off an answer that while it was true, it was also something you rehearsed 20 times in the mirror while getting ready before you got here. you were almost positive the slight robotic edge in your voice was noticeable.

mrs. romanoff hums in acknowledgment, nodding slightly at your rehearsed answer. “how well can you handle multi-tasking in a fast paced environment?” her lack of acknowledging your first answer puts a damper on your already fake confidence. you shift in your seat again, finding it harder to maintain eye contact with the sea of green that was her eyes.

“i would say i fare pretty well. i’m usually very good at managing stressful situations.” that was a complete lie—but most people bullshit their way through interviews, don’t they?

“usually?” she echoes, tilting her head to the side. she purses her lips, half attempting to hide a small smirk. she easily picked up on all your nervous antics the moment she saw you. you averting her gaze, walking unsteadily, fidgeting in your seat and the cute rose-y blush currently coloring your cheeks.

you clear your throat, interlocking your hands together in your lap. you notice they’ve already started to feel damp with sweat. “yeah, yeah most of the time i’d say so.”

“well, miss…” she glances down at what appeared to be your application and resume sitting in front of her on the desk. “(y/n)..you don’t sound very sure of yourself.” she sits upright in her chair, crossing her arms and leaning over the desk. your heart beats impossibly faster, the feeling of intimidation settling deep into your bones.

“no, i mean, i am sure—totally 100%.” you try to laugh, but it comes out sounding as nervous as you feel.

“okay, if that’s how you’d like to proceed…” she trails off, looking down at the papers in front of her again. you didn’t know what she meant, but your eyes fall desperately to the same papers she was looking at, as if they could provide some sort of answer to you. “what are your greatest strengths and weaknesses?”

you internally breath a sigh of relief. this was another answer you’d rehearsed in the mirror, it just needed to sound less robotic this time. “i’d say my greatest strengths are, i’m very punctual—i’m always on time if not early—um, i do all things thoroughly, as i mentioned before…i’m very reliable—hardly sick or need time off for family things, and i enjoy a good challenge. my greatest weakness is that i like to be very organized and sometimes i can spend a little too much time completing a certain project before moving onto the next.” you exhale after you finish talking, your eyes flicking across her face to try and get a sense of how she’s taking in your answer.

as you speak, you can’t help but notice that she was watching you so meticulously. it seemed that she was taking in not only your words, but your facial expressions, hand gestures and body language.

she looks at you for a moment as if she’s thinking hard on something. without taking her eyes off of you, she presses a button on her desk, the small ding from an intercom sounding. “joan, please track down mrs. maximoff and have her come into my office right away.”

your heartbeat now thrums loudly in your ears, your breath picking up its pace. you were not only going to be in the presence of mrs. romanoff but now mrs. maximoff too? never in your life had you seen such a powerful couple—and that was only in photos and billboards you’d seen around the city!

“is everything okay?” you ask nervously, feeling the permanent blush on your cheeks travel to the tips of your ears.

“everything’s fine, (y/n),” she gives you a smile but it was anything but reassuring. in fact, there was something about the expression that felt more intimidating with how devastatingly beautiful she was.

she grabs a pen and starts writing something on the paper. whatever it was was brief, but you couldn’t see clearly from your seat.

a quiet knock comes from the door and your posture becomes rigid as you hear who you assume to be mrs. maximoff entering the room.

“you called for me?” mrs. maximoff asks as she walks the length from the door to mrs. romanoff’s side. she walks around your chair and stands next to her wife, placing her palm flat against the desktop and leaning some of her weight on it.

“yes, i wanted you to meet our new interviewee,” she smiles with her lips and gestures to you in your seat. you look between the two beautiful, impeccably dressed women, feeling extremely small and insignificant. mrs. maximoff turns to look at you for the first time, a warm smile gracing her features.

“hi,” she offers simply, extending her hand to shake yours. you sit forward, reaching your arm out to shake her hand across the desk. her hand was incredibly soft and a little cold to the touch, but you wouldn’t expect anything less since the office was kept at such a cool temperature.

“mrs. maximoff is going to sit in on the rest of our interview. is that okay with you?” mrs. romanoff asks, her eyes daring you to object.

you quickly shake your head from side to side, shifting once again in your chair. “no, no that’s perfectly fine,” you reply easily, though you were feeling anything but fine. you notice mrs. maximoff giving her wife a curious glance but she doesn’t otherwise question it.

“let’s move over to the couches so we’re a little more comfortable,” mrs. romanoff stands up and heads over to the long olive green velvet sofa. you follow suit, except you take a seat in the smaller sofa, designed for only one person. mrs. maximoff sits closest to you on the long couch, brushing some of her pretty brown hair behind her shoulder. you watch as she glances back at her wife, mrs. romanoff giving her a certain look that you weren’t sure what it meant.

“so, (y/n), tells us what your career goals are,” mrs. romanoff proceeds with the interview as if the interruption never happened. you find yourself even more nervous to respond now that there were two, hot, older women sitting before you.

“umm…for now i really just need something steady that will simultaneously be giving me good work and life experience.. long term though, i’d like to become a therapist once i finish my masters program.” you bite your tongue once you finish your sentence, realizing this is not the sort of job where you tell your interviewers you’d like to pursue something that has nothing to do with their company.

“what appeals to you about becoming a therapist?” mrs. maximoff chimes in, tilting her head to the side curiously, just like mrs. romanoff had done earlier in the interview.

you lean back in your chair, a little surprised at her interest in your reply. “well, it’s a cliche answer, but i’m very passionate about helping people. it’s impossible to go through this life without getting seriously hurt and dealing with trauma. the vast majority of us have no idea how to cope or process through our experiences, so just knowing what i know, i’d like to try and be of some help for those who need it.”

the two lawyers look at you thoughtfully, mrs. maximoff nodding her head as you speak.

“that’s a very admirable passion. are you currently enrolled in a masters program?” she asks, crossing one of her legs over the other as she gets more comfortable in her seat.

“i am,” you reply with a shy smile. you never wanted to come across as bragging about your education, so you always sought to speak about it in the most humble way.

“you like school?” mrs. romanoff chimes in, leaning forward as she speaks.

your smile turns a bit rueful as you reply. “yes..i do. i know so many young people my age loathe school and all the hard work that needs to be put in, but…i love everything about it. i love taking notes, making flashcards, studying, taking tests, everything about it, i just love. i know it sounds a little crazy.” you laugh once, suddenly feeling more relaxed as you speak about something so genuinely. you feel a little more surprise again as you hear mrs. romanoff chuckle with you, nodding her head towards her brunette wife.

“sounds like somebody i know. this one here was a school addict. i had to practically pry textbooks out her hands just so we could do anything other than study,” she chuckles again, mrs. maximoff joining in with her.

“i won’t apologize for being so pointed about my studies. we both got straight A’s, didn’t we?” she jokes light-heartedly and you find yourself smiling warmly at their light banter.

mrs. maximoff turns back to face you, a smile still touching her lips. “what else do you do aside from school?” her question makes your face fall slightly as you now had to admit you were technically unemployed. you knew that didn’t look good for potential employers.

“right now, not a whole lot. just keeping busy with my studies,” you respond vaguely to which they both hum in response.

the pair of them continue asking you questions, except they become progressively more personal until they don’t attain to work or working at this position at all.

“do you like living alone? or do you prefer living with others?” was one of the questions mrs. romanoff asks you after you had explained you were currently without a roommate.

even though it was strange, you find that the more you talk about yourself, the more relaxed you feel. mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff both noticed it too. they could see more of your personality showing through as the nerves slowly but surely dissipated.

it had been near 40 minutes by the time mrs. romanoff checked her watch and noticed the time. she looked at her wife, mrs. maximoff seeming to sense her eyes on her as she automatically looked to the side. they shared a look, one of them nodding to the other before turning back to face you.

“well, we’ve kept you here much longer than was intended—i apologize for that.” mrs. romanoff says as she stands, mrs. maximoff following suit. you stand also, smoothing your skirt back over your legs. as you stand so closely to them now, you notice how they were both taller than you by a few inches, making you feel small again like you had earlier.

“it’s no big deal. i’m in no rush,” you smile shyly as you look up at the two of them. you extend your arm out, shaking both of their hands before getting ready to leave. they both give your hand a gentle squeeze and when mrs. romanoff shakes your hand, she grasps on longer than her wife, holding your gaze with a certain intensity.

“we’ll be in touch, miss (y/n),” she says smoothly, calling you out by your first name, and for some reason the combination between her voice and her eye contact made your knees feel weak.

you swallow thickly, nodding your head and thanking them both for the interview before turning away. mrs. maximoff leads you to the door to exit and walks you all the way out to the elevators. you pace the short distance in somewhat comfortable silence. when you turn to face her to say your final goodbye, your surprised to see mrs. romanoff behind her. she was following so quietly that you didn’t notice her presence.

“bye! thank you again,” you smile, stepping into the elevator once the doors open. the two women stand side by side of each other, giving you a near identical smile which portrayed some sort of knowing behind it, almost like they were expecting something.

“it was a pleasure meeting you miss (y/l/n),” mrs. maximoff calls out to you as the elevator doors slide closed.

you exhale a breath you didn’t now you were holding, slumping back against the elevator walls.

『 °*• ❀ •*°』

that evening, you cook up a box of mac n cheese, too lazy to try and find the ingredients to make anything else. not to mention, your mind was still a little bit jumbled after your interview with thee lesbian power couple.

mrs. romanoff’s words kept echoing in your head.

”we’ll be in touch” she’d said. but didn’t your interview totally blow? especially at the end. it wasn’t so much an interview but rather more like a conversation where people try to get to know each other better. maybe they were looking for a personality hire? you really doubted that though.

you eat your mac n cheese while staring blankly at the wall, thinking over the whole exchange with mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff. as you mindlessly feed yourself spoonfuls of your dinner, you realize you didn’t even know their first names. you remembered you had once seen them on a billboard somewhere but didn’t remember exactly what they were. mrs. romanoff’s first name was natalie or something similar? you were at a loss with mrs. maximoff. you decide to google them to put your curiosities to rest.

pulling out your phone, you google their names and the law firm. after doing just a little bit of digging, you see their full names: natasha romanoff and wanda maximoff. ah, so you were close with mrs. romanoff’s name. you wonder if they only go by their last names at the office. it definitely seemed like their vibe to have things be so professional.

as you go throughout the rest of your evening, showering and getting ready for bed, you continue thinking about them. the longer your mind lingers on them, the less “professionally” you think about them. you couldn’t help but notice how utterly beautiful they both were. they both carried themselves with a confidence that anyone would find intimidating. there was something so forceful about their presences, but not necessarily in a bad way. it seemed like natasha—mrs.romanoff—was a little more rough around the edges, but you could see she easily held a soft spot for her wife and life partner. mrs. maximoff gave off a much more approachable vibe, but she was still intimidating in her own way.

as your mind continues wandering, you find yourself becoming more tired before you finally drift off to sleep, your brain fatigued from all your analytical thinking.

『 °*• ❀ •*°』

the first thing you notice when you wake up is the light shining through your thin curtains. you blink a few times, slowly adjusting to the light. you blindly reach over to your nightstand, unplugging your phone from the charger. as you unlock your phone, you notice a missed call from an unknown number nearly two hours ago. you shoot up into a sitting position in your bed, suddenly feeling much more awake. it was just passed 10 am. was the unknown number a call back about your interview?

your fingers furiously swipe on your phone, quickly googling the number for M.R. law. you breath a sigh of relief when you cross reference the digits in your phone and the number online, realizing it was just a random unknown caller. you let your body fall back limply on the bed, your leg dangling off the side as you clutch your phone to your chest. that would’ve been humiliating if they called offering you the job and you didn’t pick up the phone.

as you go about your morning leisurely—not having any classes this day—you try to push the two hot lawyers out of your mind. there was no point in dwelling on them if you’d never hear from them again.

you leave your face bare of makeup, not intending on leaving the apartment and you opt for wearing comfy clothes—or “frumpy” clothes as you called them—instead of something nice.

you head into the kitchen, pouring yourself a bowl of frosted flakes cereal. you let it sit there for a few minutes to soak up the milk, as soggy cereal was your favorite. you’d argue with anyone who claimed crunchy cereal was best. as you wait, you power up your laptop, intent on working on some homework.

you’re munching on your cereal, blue-light filtered glasses adorning your nose as you work on your computer screen. you were mid-bite when you hear your phone buzzing on the counter next to you. you glance down at your phone and frown slightly when you notice it looks to be the same unknown number from earlier.

you continue chewing your bite, raising the phone to your ear as you accept the call.

“hello?” you ask, your voice mumbled a bit as you still had some food in your mouth.

“good morning, miss (y/n),” you hear a warm, velvety voice greet you. after almost an hour interview with her yesterday, you’d recognize this distinct voice anywhere.

“mrs. romanoff?” you just about choke on your food as you swallow, your body tensing slightly as you feel much more alert.

“that would be correct.” you hear her chuckle softly into the phone, your tone laced with obvious surprise she must have found endearing.

“i’m so sorry! i think i missed your call earlier? i didn’t recognize the number- i had no idea it was you, i’m sorry!” you apologize quickly, thinking that if she was actually calling to offer you the job, you might have just ruined it.

“don’t worry about it. i would be surprised if you recognized it given that this is my personal number,” her voice was low and warm. it was entirely too enticing.

“oh.. umm, right. well, good morning,” you stumble slightly over your words, unsure what else to say to her.

“are you normally a late riser?” she asks with humor in her voice.

“what? oh no, not normally no. i just don’t have classes today,” you explain, a little embarrassed at her having called you out on your sleeping habits.

“i see. well, we just wanted to call and ask if you’d meet us for a coffee,” her question came out as more of a statement and you were left wondering why on earth she would want to go out for coffee with you and…wait.. did she say we?

“we?” the words echo aloud from your mind.

“yes. my wife and i,” she reiterates calmly. you look around your small excuse for a kitchen as if the reasoning behind her posing this question was written on the walls.

“like today?” you ask stupidly. of course she meant today.

“yes - today. can you meet us in 15? we’re going on lunch break. i’ll text you the address.” your eyes zip to the digital numbers plastered on the microwave. you only had 15 minutes to try and look presentable, get a cab and meet them.

“ummm..yeah. yeah sure,” you nod your head as if she could see you through the phone. you quickly hop off the stool you were sitting on, walking briskly to the bathroom with the phone still held firmly to your ear.

“perfect. we’ll see you soon.” she hangs up and you all but toss your phone on the bathroom counter, staring down at the device as if it’s offended you. you quickly snap out of it, only having 5 or so minutes to un-hobo yourself. you quickly apply some concealer on your dark spots, powder on a little blush and brush on a coat of mascara in record time. in your haste, you stumble from the bathroom to your closet, trying to find something to quickly throw on. you grab a simple white baby tee, putting it on and then aggressively stepping into some loose light wash jeans. grabbing your belongings, you half jog out the door, nearly slipping down the last two stairs of your apartment.

you quickly get a cab, thanking whatever higher power there is in your head that there was very little delay in one driving by. as the taxi driver takes you to the address you gave him, you sit forward in your seat, gathering your hair in a pony tail near the top of your head. you secure it with an elastic you always keep around your wrist and pull some pieces out to frame your face. you glance in the cab rear view mirror, seeing you looked fairly presentable. you exhale shakily, sitting back in your seat as the same nerves you felt yesterday on the way to your interview were coming back now.

what was this about? i mean, you knew it wasn’t normal to meet with potential employees for coffee. it was especially suspicious because it was mrs. romanoff *and* her wife.

your thoughts are interrupted as the taxi slows to a crawl and he pulls up to the coffee shop. you’d never been to this one before, granted there were hundreds of shops all over the city so there were probably many you hadn’t gone to. your heart leaps in your chest as you see both mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff waiting outside for you.

you pass the driver the money, thank him and slip out of the car. as you step onto the sidewalk, mrs. maximoff greets you with the same warm smile she’d given you when you first met. mrs. romanoff smiles too, though it’s not as wide as her wife’s.

“hello again, (y/n).” your heart skips a beat as you hear mrs. maximoff use your first name for the first time. mrs. romanoff had been calling you by your first name since you’d stepped foot into her office. you liked the way your name fell from both of their tongues.

“hi, good to see you both again,” you smile despite your nerves, making eye contact with both of them in a polite manner.

“shall we?” mrs. romanoff suggests as she opens the door for you, her wife placing a gentle hand on the small of your back to usher you inside. you inhale shakily, the unexpected contact surprising you in a pleasant way.

as the three of you file in behind the small line of people waiting to order, your eyes skim the menu, even though you already knew exactly what you wanted.

“cute outfit,” mrs. romanoff murmurs from behind you. you could hear what sounded to be amusement in her tone but you weren’t sure.

you turn to the side to face her, her being on your left and mrs. maximoff on your right just a half-step behind you. “thank you. i threw it on—literally. i was wearing something a lot less presentable when you first called.” you glance down at both of their outfits. the duality between yours and their outfits was almost laughable. they looked impeccably fashionable and you were just in street clothes.

wanda chuckles lightly at your comment. “what were you wearing before?” she asks.

“just an oversized tee and some biker shorts,” you shrug, crossing your arms casually over your chest. you always felt more comfortable when you had your arms wrapped around yourself.

as the line moves and you’re next, mrs. romanoff quickly stands in front of you, her body moving between you and the counter. “what’ll you have?” she gives you an expectant look, ready to give your order.

“an iced mocha?” you ask a little shyly, her show of putting herself between you and the cash register did something to you for some reason.

she nods, and turns to the barista, repeating your order along with hers and her wife’s. you’re about to protest, wanting to tell her she doesn’t have to pay for you, but you feel mrs. maximoff’s hand return to the small of your back, swiftly maneuvering you away from the line and over to the small cluster of tables.

you sit down in a chair she pulled out for you and you scoot yourself in as mrs. maximoff settles in her own seat across from you.

“you really don’t have to pay for me, you know,” you pipe gently, glancing over at mrs. romanoff who was standing at the counter waiting for the drinks before you turn back to mrs. maximoff.

“of course not, we want to. plus, neither her nor i would ever allow you to pay for yourself even if you insisted,” she smiles winsomely, her eyes gleaming with something warm and bright.

mrs. romanoff returns with all three coffees, somehow handling all three and setting them down in a graceful manner.

“thank you,” you give mrs. romanoff a gentle smile as your fingers interlock around the cup and you drag it closer to you.

they both take a sip from their coffees—which were both hot—before mrs. romanoff clears her throat, her eyes narrowing in on you as she leans forward on the table.

“so, i imagine you’re wondering why we asked you here.” she throws a glance at her wife who was already looking at her speak.

“it may have been on my mind…” you trail off, sounding as innocent as possible.

mrs. romanoff smiles knowingly, her eyes appraising you in a way that made you squirm slightly in your seat.

“it’s not about the job, as i’m sure you might have figured, but rather about offering a different type of position,” she begins. your brow furrows in confusion. what did she mean?

“a different position? like a cleaning job or something?” you immediately go to thinking about jobs that require little to no experience, figuring that might be all they’d have to offer given your background.

they both laugh at your guess, mrs. romanoff being the one to shake her head no.

“no, not a cleaning job,” she pauses, seeming to measure your expression before continuing. “(y/n), have you ever heard the term bdsm?”

your face goes blank and you look from mrs. romanoff to her wife who appeared to be watching you just as carefully.

“um…i think so? i’ve heard the term a few times before.” your legs feel like they’ve turned to jelly, an unfamiliar pit settling into your lower tummy at the abrupt shift in the topic of conversation.

“what do you know about it?” mrs. maximoff chimes in, tilting her head to the side which causes some of her neatly curled hair to fall forward.

you look between the two of them, unconsciously shrinking further down into your seat. this was such a taboo subject to talk about it public; you found yourself already growing warm from just the thought of this discussion.

“well, it’s..sex stuff…right? like being tied down and whipped?” you speak hesitantly in a small voice, throwing quick glances at the strangers littered across the coffee shop.

“those things can be a part of it, yes—if all parties discuss that’s something they like to participate in” mrs. romanoff explains and then continues. “what else have you heard about it? or is that the gist of what you know?”

you shrug, your shoulders slumped forward and your head bowed slightly to try and obscure your flushed cheeks. you suck your bottom lip into your mouth—your nervous habit.

mrs. maximoff pipes in again after noticing your bashfulness. “a lot of people have that imagery in mind when they hear the term ‘bdsm,’ so it’s understandable that that’s your impression. there is so much more to it though. really, bdsm is about exploring people’s sexual interests in a safe space. you learn about your limits, what you like, what you didn’t expect to like, and so much more.” you listen to her explanation intently, your mind immediately wandering and wondering where this conversation was going to go.

mrs. romanoff picks up off her wife’s words. “some people simply dabble in certain aspects of bdsm while others treat it more as a lifestyle—and for my wife and i, it is a lifestyle.”

you nod hesitantly as they both pause for a second, watching you digest this information. you’re unsure how to respond, feeling progressively more restless in your seat.

they both give each other a look before mrs romanoff nods and mrs. maximoff speaks.

“normally, for people who live this lifestyle, they draw up contracts between themselves and the person they want as their submissive.. now we know this is all very forward, but there’s just no other way to put it. we’d like to have you as our new submissive.”

your face turns bright red for reasons you’re not fully aware of. you weren’t quite sure what being a “submissive” all entailed, but you couldn’t wipe the imagery of being helplessly tied down and whipped from your mind. you’re silent as your brain flits through one imaginary scenario to the next. you were so clueless though, you weren’t sure if the things you were thinking up were things people actually did or if they were just shown in porn.

“me…? i just..well it’s just that..i’m-i don’t know if i would be your ideal candidate,” you stumble out, your eyes glued to the table as you avoid looking at either of them at all costs.

“on the contrary, (y/n), i singled you out almost immediately at our interview. i knew i wanted you. that’s why i had wanda join us.” her face softens as she notices your slight uneasiness. being a bit of a sadist though, she couldn’t help but find your innocence and embarrassment so incredibly gratifying. it only made her want you more.

your teeth worry into your bottom lip again as you look between one set of green eyes and then the other. “do you guys normally.. share, uhm..submissives?”

“not always, but we do like to when it’s possible,” wanda shares, a reassuring smile on her face. you purse your lips, chewing on the inside of your cheek as more questions arise in your head.

“how does that work? sharing i mean.” you knew there were people who participated in polyamorous relationships, and you had no issue with it, you just had trouble visualizing the dynamic.

natasha grins wickedly to herself, realizing now how truly innocent and unknowing you were. she suspected a little yesterday at the interview, but had no idea the true scope of your innocence. wanda also found herself undeniably more attracted to you after this conversation. her hands twitch in her lap, thinking of all the things she could do to you that you probably haven’t ever dreamed of.

“it works (y/n), trust me…” mrs. romanoff says seductively.

“we know this is all very foreign to you, sweetheart. you don’t have to say yes today, just think about it?” mrs. maximoff reaches across the table and affectionately holds onto your wrist. your stomach does a little flip-flop at the term of endearment paired with the affection.

there were so many thoughts and feelings swirling around you, but one thing stuck out above the rest. you wanted to learn more. you didn’t want to say no and close a door on something that you might enjoy.

“i want to.. i mean, um, i will think about it,” you clear your throat for the umpteenth time that day, pulling your hand back from mrs. maximoff’s light grasp. it was suddenly feeling like her hand was searing your skin.

“you want to what?” mrs. romanoff presses, her eyes looking at you with intensity again.

“i just meant that i want to learn more..about this,” you reply quietly, peeking at mrs. romanoff through your lashes. you notice her clench her jaw and flex her fingers that were resting on the table, but you weren’t sure what it meant.

“well, there’s a lot to learn, but luckily i’d say we’re both pretty good teachers,” mrs. maximoff grins more wickedly this time, her expression giving you a new glimpse into something you hadn’t seen in her until this point.

“why don’t we meet up again sometime this weekend? we can answer any questions you have—help you learn more about what we’re asking from you,” she adds, to which you surprisingly feel eager to agree to the idea. you find yourself already wanting to learn more, especially if the people who were going to educate you were two of the hottest women alive.

“yeah…let’s do that,” you nod once, your blush slowly creeping off your cheeks though a slight honey glow was still present.

you all begin to gather your things, mrs. maximoff noticing their lunch break was just about up. the three of you hardly touched your coffees, the conversation too intense to take swigs of the drinks.

the two of them walk you out of the shop, mrs. romanoff hailing down a cab for you. you turn to say goodbye to mrs. maximoff and find that she’s standing closer to you than expected.

“i look forward to seeing you again so soon, dragotsennaya veshch’,” she murmurs, reaching to give your arm an affectionate squeeze. you smile at her, unsure what she said but not caring much to know now.

you step closer to the cab after mrs. romanoff opens the door for you. before you can slip inside the car, mrs. romanoff leans down, murmuring in your ear.

“if you have any questions before the weekend that simply can’t wait, don’t hesitate to text me. you have my number.” her voice was a little rough which makes you shiver.

you nod slowly, sucking on your bottom lip again. you give mrs. maximoff a shy hand wave which she mimics with an amused grin. you sink down into the car seat, mrs. romanoff shutting the door behind you.

as the taxi drives away, you can’t help but look behind you as the two women grow smaller and smaller on the sidewalk. as the car turns a corner, the couple remain standing there until you disappear. you sigh and turn back around in your seat, resting heavily against the cushion behind you.

what just happened?

——————————

tag list:

@poppyshuman @wandamaximoffsbadgirl @xenaizogie @ashadash0904 @kittnii @hayeeonn @gh0sstss @beggingonmykneesforher @natashalover3000 @msvenablesbitch @ihartnat @leesromanova @alwaysgoodnight @lowlifejuliett @azaleavolkova @caramelcat123 @daretodream1307-blog @ctrlaltedits @sweetmissnothing @gecko1 @karmasgxrl @marvelwomenarehot0 @elle161989 @waaayoutofline @snazzysprig @simpforlizzie @just4natasha

[rosicheeks]

Snap Babe here, I'm sorry that Johnny Jackass can't see how perfect you actually are. He's guaranteed to be much worse off in the long run now that he doesn't have Rosie.

Trust me buddy I’m far from perfect 😂

[n0cturnalflesh]

The One Where Sylus Turns Into A Wanderer

Synopsis: Sylus gets hit with an attack that not only turns him into a wanderer but also makes him really horny??? Oh nooo what will you do? (wink wink nudge nudge)

Characters: Sylus x Reader

tw: Dragon Sylus, smut, p in v, breeding kink, praise, aphrodisiacs, unprotected sex, oral, tentacles

wc: 8.3 k

A/N: I'm a BIG fan of the theory(is it confirmed?) that Sylus is/was a wanderer at one point but I wanna see more content of him looking kinda scary. Love the idea of Sylus with cute horns and a tail but I'm thinking more like the wanderers we fight in deepspace trials - big, scaly monsters that barely look human. (I’m not not even a Sylus main lol sorry Zayne but duty calls)

“It recovered. Be careful.” Sylus charges forward, his evol twisting the wyrmlord wanderer and redirecting its fiery assault just out of the way from hitting you. 

“I know, I know.” Your voice comes out hoarse, throat parched from the hour-long battle against a horde of mechanically enhanced Wanderers—an unwelcome gift from one of Sylus’ enemies. It wasn’t anything the two of you couldn't handle, but their durability in the field was at least 4 times that of regular wanderers. This was an endurance test.

“This better be the last one.” You grumble, Harrier 700s aimed at its maws as you dump Evol-enhanced bullets into its rocky flesh.

“It is.” Sylus warps to its side, taking a vicious hit before striking back just as hard. “Look at the fluctuations around it, they’re weakening. Anything that might come after this will likely be too weak to stand. This is their last card.”

It’s true, now that you take a closer look; the translucent shimmer that had been protecting every wanderer before this is now no more than a simple sparkle. Cocking your gun in your hand, you level the barrel to its heart, giving a brief glance to Sylus. 

“Let’s finish this.”

Blood-red swirls of energy coil around your hands, leaving little tingles on your knuckles as the cold mist kisses your knuckles. With each shot fired, a shard of energy follows the bullet, driving it deeper into the Wrmylord. Sylus stays close to the beast, striking each bullet wound as his evol amplifies the force of your resonate-enhanced attacks. A powerful gust from its panicked wings nearly knocks you off balance, but you hold firm, standing against the wind. Your hair slaps across your face, nearly covering your vision but the red energy around your hands helps keep your aim. It’s almost dead— it has to be.

With each bullet, the wanderer staggers; each punch leaving it closer to the ground in defeat until the final shimmer of its enhanced defense shatters.

“Now!” You yell as you close in the distance, running until you’re side by side with Sylus. His evol energy swirls begin to coil stronger, wrapping around your entire body before channeling directly into your gun. With the dragon in your sights, gun up and facing its weakened body, you pull the trigger. At the same moment, Sylus charges forward, winding up his final strike and landing a crushing blow where your bullet landed.

The wyrmlord lets out a final, piercing scream before collapsing to the ground. 

“Damn, I don’t want to see another wanderer for at least a month. Maybe more. Thoughts on a mini vacation Sylus?” You ask, wiping off your gun as you place it back in its holster on your waist.

A few seconds of silence go by. With no response from Sylus, you glance up from your holster just as it all goes wrong. A vibration on your wrist draws your attention, red letters glowing above your watch that read “Extreme Fluctuation - Evacuate Vicinity Immediately”. A low grumble shakes the ground, the sound echoing through the ground and reverberating so powerfully that you feel it rumble in your chest. Before you can react, a blinding flash of energy fills your vision. 

“Fuck off!” You shake your head and reach for your gun, squinting against the brilliance but all you can make out are the wyrmlord’s glowing crooked eyes peering through the glare. 

“Get back!” Sylus’ low voice cuts through the rumbling, and in an instant he’s standing in front of you, shielding you just as the light directs into a beam and strikes his chest. The moment it hits, everything stops. The beast collapses on the ground, its limbs going limp as dust creeps up its disintegrating form until nothing remains. 

“Sylus!” Your voice breaks the silence, hands pressing against his sturdy shoulders until he turns to face you. “Are you alright?”

Despite the attack, he appears none the worse for wear, aside from tired and dirty from the battleground dust. His eyes are downcast, staring at his chest where the beam hit. 

“Yes, I’m fine kitten. Must’ve died just before the beam could hit me.”

“Are you sure?” Worry laces your voice, “I could’ve sworn I watched that weird beam hit your chest.”

“Yes, I’m fine. Your eyes must be deceiving you. You should head on home quickly, book that vacation on my card. I’ll…” he trails off, looking back to where the wyrmlord disintegrated. “Stay behind to make sure no other wanderers come.”

Sylus’ eyes narrow as he looks around, his tone low and calculated. He shifts from foot to foot, unusually stiff as you notice the way he draws his shoulders in stiffly. 

“Sylus?”

He bows his head down, turning to face away from you. 

“Sylus, that beam did something to you didn’t it?”

An audible sigh escapes him, his breath slow yet his upper torso rises rapidly like its breathing entirely separate from his breaths. 

“It… did. But it’s nothing I can’t handle, don’t you worry about me. Just leave me to deal with this on my own, you should go rest.”

He stands awkwardly, posture just a bit too stiff - like he doesn’t quite know how to hold his limbs. You lean towards him, eye glancing over his body to check for hidden injuries or changes. There has to be something, he wouldn’t be sending you off so easily if there wasn’t. 

“Sylus, I’m not just going to leave because you said so. I’m a top hunter, why don’t you think I can help you?” You take a step forward, hoping for a closer inspection but he takes a step back as you do, keeping his face turned away.

“Excuse me?” Betrayal strikes you; how dare he go through months of coaxing and bonding just to leave you when he finally needs help for once? “Look at me.” You speak firmly, snatching his wrist so he can’t flee.

His body tenses at your touch, a quiet gasp escaping his lips. He could pull away if he wanted, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t move at all. He’s frozen still, his gaze fixed on the ground. You slide your hand down until you can squeeze his fingers; they feel unusually cold at the tips yet hot toward his palm.

Following the heat of his palm, your fingers trace back up his wrist, gliding along his forearm until they reach the edge of his sleeve. A wave of warmth pulses beneath his skin, following his veins, though the surface remains cold to the touch. 

“Kitten,” His voice draws out low and raspy, leveled like he’s holding his composure just to talk. “Please, let me deal with this on my own. You don’t need to see this.”

Testing the waters, you caress over his chest and up until you hold his chin in your palm. He resists only for a moment as you tilt his head until his vibrant, glowing red eyes face you, laced with evol.

With brows drawn and tense, he shutters under your touch, eyes fluttering shut as he nuzzles deeper into your palm. For a moment, he seeks comfort there, but he pulls away sharply as if your touch suddenly stings. His eyes reek of evol, the glowing red so bright that it becomes hard to see his pupils. Yet the sensation of his evol never comes. You don’t feel that deep pull from within; don’t hear the voices of your deepest desires. 

“Whatever that wanderer did to you, I won’t let you suffer alone. We’re in this together.”

He stares back, almost animalistic in nature, like he’s calculating how to react to your next move. His drastic change in personality becomes increasingly unsettling.

“Why are your eyes glowing like that? I don’t feel your evol.” You question, hoping a direct question might be an easier approach.

It seems to work, his gaze refocusing on you as he blinks a few times.

“It is…” he lowers his head, avoiding eye contact as he speaks, “returning me to a form I had hoped you’d never see in this lifetime.” Running a hand through his hair, he tilts his head up to look at the night sky, worries etched onto his face. The light of the moon shines on his pale skin and you can see a sheen layer of sweat on his forehead as he pushes his hair back.

“What does that mean?” Hundreds of questions pop into your head but that’s the one that comes out first before you can even think harder about what he said. A form? Form of what?

Sylus hums, voice uneven and hoarse as he keeps his head turned towards the stars. “Some time ago, which does not matter when, I was something else. Not… entirely as I am today.” He keeps his head tilted but lowers his glowing eyes to meet yours. “I’d since been able to restrict it, but it seems as though that wanderer’s attack was able to affect it.”

You stand your ground, holding eye contact. That’s not a complete answer, and he knows that. You stare back, not moving as he awaits a reaction that you won’t give him.

“I’ve never wanted it to come to this, because I know you won’t leave my side no matter what I say.” He continues, sad gratitude flashing on his expression for a moment, “You really won’t leave me to deal with this, will you?”

He’s not making sense. His words have told you nothing of the situation or his weird behavior. But raising your voice or pressing him further might escalate his behavior. Your heart aches at the thought of whatever is going through his mind as he loses his collected mannerism. He has done so much for you these past few months; proven your opinion of him wrong from the start and treated you so well. You will not let him be alone for this, whatever it is.

“No, I won’t.” You reply firmly.

“You never do.” He sighs, before doubling over to pull his arm close to his chest, hiding the skin from your touch.

“Sylus!” You cry out, taking a step towards him but he moves away as you come close.

“No.” His tone comes out calm despite the strain in his voice, “Don’t get close, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, Sylus.” You pause, observing the way he carries his limbs in towards himself like he’s trying to make himself look small. An impossible feat for such a large man. “I know you won’t because I know you would never dare to hurt me. I don’t know what you’re talking about or what you mean by this ‘form’ you’re reverting to, but I know that if it is still you at the core, you will not hurt me.” 

It’s a lie. Sylus is a very scary man if you don’t know him well. Whatever he’s talking about clearly has him worried about hurting you, and if that’s something he’s concerned about, it absolutely gives you every reason to be alarmed. But you can’t just admit that. Not after everything he’s done for you —risking his life, taking hits meant for you, following you on pointless expeditions that far exceed the duties of the N109 Zone leader, even letting you hurt him. No, it’s your turn to take a risk for him. Prove to him that you trust him wholeheartedly.

Assuming a (hopefully) confident-looking stance, you hold eye contact with him and take a step forward, leaving no room for debate as you press into his personal space. He gasps at your touch, eyes glued to where your hand grabs at his arm. 

“Please,” He grunts, “be careful. I don’t want to hurt you. Not…” His voice trails off just as you make contact with his skin. But it’s not skin. It's hard, rocky almost in texture but still molds to your touch as you squeeze it. 

Not ready to look down, you raise your other hand up and cradle his cheek. “It’s okay.” Your voice comes out as a hushed whisper, and finally, you look down.

His arm below the elbow and hand are not human. The skin is jagged, flesh turned black and grey while red light seeps out from the lines of his veins. His fingers are longer than they should be, joints extended and bony as they lead to talons at the tips. These are the hands of a wanderer.

“Sylus, your form? A wanderer?” The look of raw insecurity in his eyes stops you from questioning. With his brows knitted and eyes glistening, his lips tremble slightly, parted as if struggling to form words. His chest rises and falls with shallow, uneven breaths. He looks like he’s seconds away from breaking down.

“So you’ve figured it out, Miss Hunter.” He speaks, emphasizing the nickname like he’s pointing out how your job is sworn to killing monsters like him. He’s spiraling, slight tension tugging through his body like he wants to break away from you but doesn’t want you to leave him at the same time. You need to show him that you’ll remain ever at his side.

“This doesn’t change my statement, I won’t let you go about this alone.”

He lets out a small laugh, although there’s no humor or joy behind it. “I appreciate your help, but you don’t deserve to have to be exposed to this side of me. You've seen enough wanderers to last you at least 5 missions in the last few hours alone. You said it yourself, you need a vacation away from us horrid monsters.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“Because that wasn't you! You’re not just some beast that runs wild! Regardless of your form, there’s a ‘you’ deep inside. If you lose control, I’ll be here to make sure you don’t get caught. If anyone finds you, I’ll make sure they don't hurt you.”

“And if I hurt you?”

“You won’t.” Staring into his glowing eyes, you stand your ground. He needs to know this is a hill you’re willing to die on. “Listen, I don’t understand any of what’s going on, and you will explain everything to me when the time is right. But please, just shut up and let me be here for you.”

His jaw tightens before relaxing into a sigh. You run your fingers up and down his hardened palm, hoping to reassure him that this change does not change how you view him. 

“If you won’t leave me, you should at least distance yourself from me. At least for the time being. I don’t if the attack has altered my state of mind.”

“Alright.” You give his hand a light squeeze, rubbing your thumb against his knuckles before turning to retreat to a nearby tree. Only he doesn't let you. As you turn to leave, rough talons grasp onto your wrist. He pulls you close to him, your back pressing up against his chest as he wraps his arms around your waist. They feel… different. 

The rough, rocky texture has continued up his forearms. He’s hidden from your line of view, only his arms visible as they wrap your torso. 

“Sylus?”  Your voice trembles with uncertainty, but the only response is a low, guttural growl from behind you. In the stillness that follows, you notice the next sudden change; he’s growing. His hands, already massive compared to yours, now seem to dwarf you entirely.  As he splays his left hand across your abdomen, his claws extend effortlessly to the back of your torso. His palm alone envelops your entire stomach.

The sharp rip of fabric echoes from somewhere along his back, followed by the rush of warm, heavy breaths against your neck—slowly, far too slow for any human. Wrapping your fingers around just one of his now enormous claws, you strain to fully grip it, prying his hand away with deliberate caution.

“I’m going to turn around now. And then you can tell me if you still want me to distance myself, okay?”

He doesn't answer, but he also doesn’t stop you from pulling out of his grasp. Gently, you free yourself from his hold. Drawing a deep breath, you prepare for what awaits. If he truly is a wanderer, is this his true form?

As you turn, there’s a deep, resounding thud—Sylus stepping back, perhaps anxious for you to see him like this. Finally, in the pregnant silence, you open your eyes.

He’s… gigantic. Towering close to nine feet tall, his presence is overwhelming. At first glance, not much seems to have changed—his face, his torso, still familiar; aside from the darkened, rocky skin leading from his hands and now his feet upwards. Through the tears of clothing struggling to hang off his growing body,  the skin beneath remains a softer hue, though roughened, textured like stone.

Your gaze travels upward, from his exposed chest, straining beneath shredded buttons, to his face. Aside from the glowing red eyes and his change in size, the only new and noticeable changes are the two massive horns shooting out from behind his ears. —black as night, laced with swirling red energy tapering into sharp white tips. They curl around his face gracefully, flaring outward before narrowing into points that end near his chin. For such a beastly figure to cower, avoiding your eyes, almost elicits a strange tenderness—were it not for the seriousness of the moment. 

“I’m not afraid of you.” You murmur, stepping closer and offering your hand. He doesn't take it, but he doesn’t pull away, allowing the space between you to close.

When he speaks, his voice is even deeper than normal, rasping out hollow as though unused to forming words in this form. “I’m holding back... slowing the transformation.” His eyes shut, pained. “But the attack... it may have triggered some... side effects.”

He kneels down until he’s level with you, large eyes roaming over you like he needs to memorize your body. “I wanted this to be different. You deserve better—dinner, gifts, a proper evening to show you how much I—”

“Stop deciding for me.” You cut him off. “You’re not making sense. What side effects? What dinner? What’s happening?”

His chest rises and falls heavily, beads of sweat forming along his brow.  “I need you.”

“You have me.” you reply. He lets out a shaky breath, gaze slipping from your face to your body, over every curve you have and back up. He looks back to your face with a carnal, unrestrained desire.“No. I need you in ways that I should not take from you. I can endure this.” He groans. The side effect he mentioned is starting to make sense – an aphrodisiac. 

But it doesn’t shake you. Stolen evenings and unexpected gifts, whispered messages between meetings and surprise plushies left just for you—this isn’t for nothing. You want him. You want to be the one who helps him.

“And I’m saying you have me.” you whisper, “however you need me.”

In an instant, he surges forward, capturing your lips in a fervent kiss, nearly knocking you off balance. His claws steady you, holding you close as heat floods through you, every nerve alive under his touch. This wasn’t what you expected, but the rush is undeniable. After weeks of tension, playful flirtation, and stolen moments, you undeniably want this. The circumstances don’t change the feelings that you’ve harbored for him.

His pace is feverish, lips crashing against yours with a desperation that steals your breath. With inhumane sharp teeth, he pulls at your bottom lip before releasing, his tongue brushes lightly over your mouth, hesitant, seeking.

Your hands, trembling slightly, move to his jaw before drifting upward, fingers curling around his horns. The moment you tug gently, his breath hitches, a low gasp escaping him. His control slips further, the weight of his form heavy in the air between you as he slowly pulls away, panting, eyes squeezed shut. His hands, shaking, rest on your waist, still fighting against the wildness threatening to consume him.

“Sylus, it's ok. You can let go, show me your true form.”

He rests his head on your shoulder, face buried in the curve of your neck as he lets out a hushed groan, panting heavily as you feel his weight around you.

“Ok, my love.” He whispers, voice trembling, giving you no time to respond before his body begins to shift. The sound of bones cracking reverberates through the space, jarring and raw. He cups your chin gently, pulling your face to his, and kisses you deeply. Your eyes flutter shut as you cradle his tear-streaked cheeks in your palms, the damp warmth of his tears smearing against your skin. Whether he’s trying to distract you from his changing body or himself from the pain, you can’t be sure—but you return the kiss with equal passion, willing the world outside to fade away.

The sounds of his transformation— clothes ripping, bones snapping, joints realigning—begin to echo about louder and louder. Yet you ignore them, clinging to the heat between your lips, in hopes that the connection you share distracts him from the painful shift. After what feels like a small eternity, you pull away slowly, lips tingling from the heat of his breath. Steadying yourself, you take a step back, ready to take in all that he has become. 

Words cannot do justice to his new form. You stare in awe, committing his new body to your memory as he stands completely bare in front of you. Before you stands no trace of the human you once knew—only a towering, fearsome beast, the living embodiment of draconic ferocity. His body is a fusion of taut muscle and hardened scales, rippling with untamed power. Long, white hair cascades down his back, swaying like a mane as it frames his draconic face, a mix of humanoid and bestial features. His maw, lined with razor-sharp fangs, juts forward like that of a great dragon, yet his eyes still carry the familiar glint of Sylus—recognizable, despite the terrifying transformation.

His legs are thick and clawed like that of an animal, hoisting his massive form even higher above you. While he moves with the mannerisms of a bipedal creature, this is no man—this is something far more primal, more dangerous. Behind him, a long, jagged tail swings low, its blade-like ridges sharp and lethal. Higher up, leathery-red wings point upwards and wrap around his waist, covering himself up as modestly as he can. The horns that once subtly adorned his head have grown monstrously large, curling menacingly around his skull, nearly outsizing his monstrous, animalistic visage. His arms, though almost human in form, are colossal—each muscle encased in a thick, armor-like scale, protruding with strength at every joint as they swirl around his chest, where the beating thump of his heart stands out.

He is immense; a creature of both beauty and terror, and you can't help but feel both in awe and mesmerized in his presence.

You must look off-put, as Sylus bows his head, once more avoiding eye contact. Before he can move away, you take the initiative to reach out and grab his hand. Your fingers barely make a dent in his thick flesh, but still, you tug him towards yourself hoping he’ll understand the motive. 

“You’re beautiful.” You whisper, voice quiet as you reach your hand out for his face. He takes the hint, hesitantly stepping forward with a loud thud that shakes the ground nearby, bending down to place his jagged jaw into your hand lightly. 

“Don’t,” His voice comes out with a groggy, half-growl tone, “Lie.” He finishes. Each word seems to have winded him, sighs escaping through sharp talons.

“I’m not.” You answer, and before he can protest, you push your lips against what would be his lips in this new form. It’s awkward, your lips barely covering a quarter the size of his mouth, his large teeth pushing up against your mouth as you try to kiss him. But awkward as it is, he returns the passion as delicately as he can. 

“I still want you Sylus, like this, or in any form. You have me.”

He must finally give in to his desires, ignoring whatever reservations were holding him back as he realizes your devotion to him.  He takes your body in his giant hands, cradling you gently as he lifts you up so he can stand at full height. As you sit like a pretty doll in his palms, nearly 9 feet above the ground, he brings his head close to yours until his forehead and horns rest against your head. 

“Thank you.” He growls through softly bared fangs, “But… don’t know how much you can help me…” he trails off, “ like this. Don’t want to.. to hurt you.” 

As he leans away from you, a brief flicker of his eyes downwards gives him away. You shift a little in his grasp, hoping to peer down at one body part of his you hadn’t considered might also change. 

“Are you certain…want to see all of me?” Sylus nuzzles his sharp snout into your neck, subtly preventing you from looking further. 

“If it will help you, then of course. I know this isn’t how you wanted things to play out, but under different circumstances, I would still want to see all of you.”

Sylus lets you squirm out of his firm hold on you, allowing you to look past his scaled rocky chest and down to where the red tapered tip of his cock rests against his torso. And it's thick. The tip alone must be fatter than your fist. You can’t see beyond the tip from the angle you’re being held at but if it reaches this high up his body, it must be massive. Maybe you can’t help him the way he needs. 

The expression on your face must give away your shock at his size, as Sylus looks down to his cock and back up to your face, awaiting a reaction. 

“What exactly do you need from me to help you?” You ask hesitantly, gauging the severity of his need to fuck you. 

Sylus groans at your questions, low and deep, hips bucking forward like the mere thought of what you’re offering makes him throb. As he leans back to rest on a nearby tree, his hands tighten around your waist, just slightly, as he responds. 

“Need to fuck you,” he huffs, “To eat you,” he presses his face against your neck, “to breed you,”, saliva drips down from his scaly maw, landing hot and wet as it slides down the front of your shirt. “Mine.” 

“Mmph.” You moan, a warm wetness beginning to form between your legs at his words. “I’m not sure if you’ll fit, but we can try. Whatever will help you.” Your voice is flakey, shaking with each breath as you try to contain your arousal.

“Will fit,” he licks at your neck, right where your pulse is, “spit will help, will numb, stretch.” As he slides his tongue up, the sheer size of it alarms you and reminds you of how much bigger he is. Its heavy weight feels like a compression around you as it wraps once around your throat. The tip of it drags across your chin, soaking your face in his wetness, stopping before your lips, awaiting your approval. 

As he holds you so close to him, his hands the only thing supporting your body as his mouth pants at your chest, you give in. Accepting that whatever will come, Sylus will not hurt you. 

Opening your mouth, his tongue pushes in, stretching your jaw slightly before it flattens to fit better. Even with only the tip of it in, you’re overwhelmed as it thrashes around your cheeks, saliva beginning to drip down all around your face. 

Yet as it continues, as his tongue soaks your neck and fills your mouth, pleasure begins to stir within you. As his sharp talons hold you above his head, you start to crave more. As his scaly snout pokes into your chest, the feeling of being overwhelmed dissipates. The weight of his touch lightens. The awkward wetness feels comforting. 

And your arousal heightens. The fear that has been holding you back from fully indulging in him is gone, replaced by a carnal need to be used by him. Without even realizing it, you’ve gathered his heavy head in your hands, his tongue almost entirely down your throat as you swallow around it with ease. Face to face with his heavy maw, you finally let loose and moan into his mouth.

He pulls back slowly, unwinding his tongue from its place down your throat. He growls, keeping you eye to eye with him. “Ready?”

Jaw still sore, soaked from spit, you nod dumbly.

“Good.”  And as soon as the words escape his mouth he’s using a claw to rip apart your clothes, just barely leaving a mark on your skin as your tattered outfit falls to the ground. The cool air hits your body hard, nipples hardening in the wind as the saliva dries quickly. You tremble in his hands, partially due to the wind, and partially due to the way your body is out on display for him; the first time he’s seen you naked.

Any insecurities you may have had begin to melt away as he stares at you like he holds the world in his hands. “Beautiful.” He groans, gently caressing your skin with his claws. Despite his beastly exterior, he cradles you as though you are his most treasured possession.

Your skin is taut under his grasp as Sylus lifts you higher until you’re above his head. Staring directly at your exposed cunt, he clasps his maw against it before you can even blush at his forwardness. Gasping at his reaction, every touch seems to set your body aflame with desire. As his scaled lips touch your pelvis, his tongue begins to swirl around your pussy.

“Divine.” He croaks, words muffled by your wetness between his lips. He drags his tongue between your folds once more before diving deeper, the tip poking at your entrance. As his saliva mixes with your slick, your desire heightens. You need him in you now.

“Please, Sylus, fuck me already.”

His eyes snap from their view of where his tongue plays with your entrance, slit pupils dilating as he makes eye contact with you. He takes a deep breath in, then plunges his tongue deep inside.

The sensation is immediate, pleasure taking over your body as his self-lubricated muscle pumps into you, poking around at your gummy walls like it’s looking for room. No, like it’s making room. It’s almost terrifying, watching as his long and thick tongue penetrates deeper and deeper. It shouldn’t fit, but somehow, inch after inch it disappears further until you’re sat entirely on his sharp face.

 His hands hold your body up in the air as he tilts his head back to keep you in an upright position. Your feet, dangling on either side of his head, wrap around his horns to use as some kind of leverage to contrast the penetrating feeling of his tongue pushing against your cervix. “Mmm, Sy-!” You whine, his name the only word you can form as he pumps into you repeatedly. The coiling of his tongue pushes against all your inner walls, all the hidden spots you didn't know could be touched.

His fingers shift, one hand sliding slightly upwards, unintentionally grasping your loose tits between them, while the other wraps lower around your ass. It gives you a better view of his face - and the bulge protruding from your lower stomach every time his tongue flicks forward.

Sylus must catch your gaze, as he withdraws his tongue slowly until just the tip is inside, and he pushes on the bulged area, distending it to lengths that must made possible with the use of his aphrodisiac-like saliva. It hurts, but it hurts good. 

 “Carvin’ out my place in you.” He slurs as best he can without proper use of his tongue. He gives one last squeeze to your breasts, before withdrawing until he’s back to holding you up at chest height to him - still at least 9 feet above the ground.

“Ready?” he pants, “Sweetie?”

Missing the feeling of being filled already, you nod rapidly. Sylus smiles, scales glistening in his smirk, and then lowers himself until he’s lying on his back, keeping your body close to his chest. Feeling the base of his heavy cock rest on your ass is enough to get your body subconsciously moving, humping your hips forward helplessly, looking for any kind of stimulation. The hard texture of his skin beneath you catches against your clit. You lurch forward, hands steadying yourself on his defined abs to get yourself.

A purr-like noise radiating from beneath you causes you to open your eyes which must’ve closed in the chase for release. Sylus’ head is tilted low to watch as you use him and despite the desire in his eyes, he holds an expression that’s entirely human.

He lifts his gaze to meet yours, and suddenly, the world around you seems to still. His eyes are wide, filled with a mixture of awe, disbelief, and something deeper—infatuation. Relief washes over his face, softening his features as if the weight of years has been lifted in a single breath. It’s as though he’s finding solace in your acceptance of him, releasing the fears he’s long held about how you would perceive this form. He looks at you as if this moment is something he had once dared to hope for but never truly believed would come—an unspoken dream, now realized. His expression speaks of a man who has waited a lifetime for this, for you, and for the peace that comes with being seen and accepted completely.

“Sylus,” your voice comes out dripping with desire. The hardened skin beneath feels good, but you need more. There’s an aching emptiness within you, now that you’ve felt his tongue carve out a place in you. “Need you inside me. Now.”

He tosses his head back, throat exposed as he arches his back like you’re words alone pushed him closer to his release. His hands fondle your body before gently raising you up and back so you're sitting with his cock in front of you. And it is indeed massive. 

From where it rests against his stomach, you can see now why it felt so heavy when it was behind you. The base alone is almost as thick as one of your thighs. It shoots up at least a foot before tapering off to a tentacle-like tip that’s almost sized like a normal penis. 

There’s no way that’s fitting inside of you. 

“There’s no way that’s fitting inside me.”

Sylus huffs in what could be considered humour, before his expression softens. “It will… Some of it. Trust me.” He lets go of his grab on you and offers a hand. As your tiny palm slides around one of his fingers, just barely able to grasp it entirely in your hand, his wings wrap around your body like a shield of privacy. 

“Trust. Please.” His voice comes out more breathy than before, his chest rising and falling deeply with each breath. It’s then that you notice the tension in his shoulders, the way they bunch up is different than a human body but still noticeable. He must be suffering, holding himself back. 

You turn your head to the side, nose brushing against his taut wing. “Ok.” And with confidence, you lean forward and grab his cock. Holding it with both your hands, the girth is barely contained between your fingers. It’s moist all over, self-lubricating, slippery, and heavy. Sylus gasps under his breath and before your fingers can even reach the tip, he’s sliding you forward and upward. 

Hands flat against his shoulders, your face to face with him once again as he reaches to guide his cock towards your entrance. The anxiety of how he’ll fit must be evident in your face as he leans forward and licks your cheek. 

“I’m ready.” You whisper, and Sylus slowly slips his tip inside your dripping cunt.

Fitting a literal monster cock inside you is not something you can easily prepare for, mentally or physically, for that matter. But somehow, with a mix of whatever is in his saliva and his earlier ministrations, you now sit with almost half of a monster cock deep in your gut. 

The stretch of your gummy walls accommodating his girth is not as painful as you would have imagined. 

It feels like a reward, as if you’re fulfilling a purpose your body was made for.

Because it was, wasn’t it? Isn’t your body destined to take him inside you and milk it until you’re full? Weren’t you made for this? 

The feeling of his tip working its way inside you reveals a hidden will of its own, pulsing and writhing around despite Sylus not thrusting into you yet. He slowly works you down his cock until it seems you’ve hit your limit. With just barely half his length inside, your cunt split open wider than you thought possible, the thumping tip pushes out into the area he fucked open with his tongue. 

“See?” He growls. “Fits. Just need tip.” At his last word, the tip inside pokes out into your belly, a protruding bulge in your front. He takes your hand in his much large hand and pushes back against it, and you nearly cum at the sensation. Based on his reaction, he nearly does too.  

It’s becoming too much and he’s not even fucking you yet. The widening of his girth from where it sticks out of you is lined with rocky scales that hit exactly at your clit, like they were made for your pleasure. The tense bundle of nerves ache for stimulation. You squeeze your legs around the base of his cock, and slowly thrust yourself forward in hopes that he understands what you want. 

He does. Using gentle hands, he holds you up in place before slowly starting to thrust his hips upwards into you. With each movement, his cock pushes through your gut leaving you feeling stuffed and full of desire. Your legs loosen from their grip around his base and instead, hang freely below you as he uses you like a personal flesh light. 

“Fuck.” He growls, hands tightening around you like he’s using your body to keep himself alive. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, fuck.”

You can’t reply, at least not in words. The combination of his fat girth and poking tip render you speechless aside from a few moans of pleasure. “Sy…” you attempt his name, but it’s useless. You can’t focus on anything other than the way he fucks up into you. 

“Mine. Mine.  Fuck.” He mutters under his breath, fingers finding their way to where your body holds him inside, splaying across your belly to feel the weight of his cock inside you. 

The build-up of pleasure grows and grows as he brushes his cock against your clit and insides. Your edging closer and closer to release, but just as you feel your physical pleasure start to take over your mind, everything flips. 

The mossy ground is beneath you as you’re softly placed on the ground. With Sylus still inside your pulsing cunt, he now hovers above you, thick arms holding himself up on either side of your head. His wings flap around, shielding your body beneath him. 

“Mine. No one else’s.” He shouts, not taking his eyes off you as he raises an arm and holds his hand up in a direction away from you. Between the folds of his wings, you see movement: more wanderers. A few gnaves, they’re launching in your direction but a red whirling mist surrounds them before they can reach you. 

“Mine!” Sylus screams out, sharp fangs agape as he bares his teeth in the direction of the gnaves. From his position, he starts lightly thrusting his hips forward into you. The sharp pang of pleasure as he fucks into you draws your mind away from the looming threat of wanderers. 

You close your eyes, hands out grabbing for his chest, his arms, anything to ground you. A splattering of wetness across your face forces your eyes open in shock. Sylus stares down at you, his face and yours dripping in wanderer blood. Beside you, the dead bodies of the beasts disintegrate leaving only their protocors. Sylus fucks back into you. 

“Mmmph! Fuck - M’ yours!” You scream out, pulling his horned head towards you again and diving into his mouth. His long tongue laps at your mouth in anticipation before you let it slide in and down your throat once more, the numbing of the saliva still in effect as it mixes with the blood across your face.

“Mine. Mine to protect. Mine to fuck. Mine to breed.” Sylus pants into your mouth, words obstructed by his tongue down your throat. 

“Mmhmm.” You whimper, unable to form words between the harsh fucking of his cock in you and his tongue in your mouth. 

”I’m…” he groans, “here.” He lowers a hand to your stomach, the bulge less visible than the previous position but still just as deep in you as he fucks forward. 

“My place.” The tip of his cock squirms around and fucks up into you at a pace faster than his hips, smooshing against the thing wall of skin separating it and his hand on the other side. It feels like being fucked twice, one thick and slow, stretching against your clit. The other, thin and fast, pumping around against your cervix in whatever space has been molded to take it. 

“No one else.” His gaze is animalistic, hungry, desperate. With each thrust his hardens torso twists and twitches, your tiny body beneath him rocking back and forth on the ground. It hurts, it’ll definitely leave bruises on your skin, but the pleasure overtakes you. 

He slides his tongue out of you and it slithers to wrap around your throat. He looks over you, head nearly twice as big as yours with his sharp horns dangling over either side of your face. This shouldn't be as enjoyable as it is. You should be scared. The leader of Onichynous is splitting you open on the floor of a wandered infested forest after turning into one himself. 

But the way he stares at you overrides all of those things. He looks down at you with such a longing mixture of emotions. He looks down at you like you’re the most precious and dear thing to him in the world, like he’s been waiting for this, like he needs this like he needs to breathe air. Like he can’t believe it’s finally happening. 

His red eyes widen at your eye contact as you raise a hand to rest against his scaled cheekbone.  Not entirely human. Not entirely wanderer. Completely Sylus. 

His eyes glaze over, whether from the pleasure or the intimacy of the act, you’re unsure. But it moves you to speak. “Yours. Forever.” 

That pushes him over the edge, wings flapping violently behind him, horns scraping into the dirt beneath you without care as he leans his head down beside yours. His tongue squeezes at your throat, his breath and pace quickening as he fucks sloppily into you.

“Fuc- mmph...” he stutters into your ear, trying to form words. And then he whimpers, a high-pitched, voice-cracking cry right into your ear. And then he cums. And you can feel it happen. 

You can feel a sudden warmth spread through your lower half, feel each spurt and twitch of his cock. The pressure increases as it pumps into you and pushes against your walls, making you feel even more stuffed as he stays inside you. 

It must be some kind of wanderer, monster anatomy but you can feel the base of his cock tightening as he cums. It swells and grows, pushing further up against your clit. With each twitch of his hips, the base rubs on the nerves until you finally come undone on him. 

“Fuck! Sylus! I’m-!” You cry out. 

“I know, Sweetie,” he moans, voice hoarse, “Keep cumming. For me.”

You close your eyes, whole body tensing as release tingles through your muscles like a spell. Each pulse of pleasure quivering throughout your body; a blanket of white taking over your every thought. Your legs wrap and tighten around Sylus’ waist as he rocks forward into you, slowing down with every hump as you slowly become overstimulated.

“Nnph. Sylus, too much. Can’t.” You whimper out, eyes squeezed shut as you paw at his torso to slow down.  He doesn’t reply, but his body comes to a halt until he’s still above you. His breath is warm against your chest in slow, warm puffs. Time seems to come to a stop; your body feels heavy, and your mind floating above. There’s nothing besides you, the ground beneath you, and Sylus deep inside you. 

After what feels like hours (but could very well be minutes), Sylus shifts. A sharp claw slides gently under your back, supporting your weight as it picks up you. You keep your eyes closed in a heightened state of bliss, trusting Sylus as he moves until you are chest-to-chest with him while he lays on his back. The leather blanket of his wings rests on your shoulders as they wrap around you, keeping you warm and protected from the outside world. His cock remains nestled deep inside you, your stomach feeling tender - used. As if sensing your awareness to the discomfort, Sylus runs a sharp finger down the crest of your back, humming a cracked and hoarse tune. You wait for him to speak, but he doesn’t. He just sits in the silence with you. 

With the strength of Linkon’s most powerful hunter, you lift your tired head off his chest and peer up at him to find his ruby eyes already staring back at you. He looks unsure, almost vulnerable, an expression that a giant horned wanderer shouldn’t be able to express. His hand steadies on your waist, keeping a light hold on you like he’s waiting for you to pull away.

“You mean the world to me Sylus.” You say, eyes glimmering with intent and honesty. He doesn’t respond but his chest stops rising for a moment, a baited breath like he needs a moment for the words to set in. You can see the thoughts racing in his mind as he stares back at you and for a split second, his eyes shine with unshed tears. 

He looks away before you can comment, a smile returning to his face before looking back at you with a soft gaze. “And you are my world.” He says softly. He pulls you tight to him in an embrace that feels like more than just a hug, nuzzling his scaled-maw to your cheek. “Thank you. For trusting me.”

“Of course.” You smile, care seeping into your voice. “How are you feeling? Are the side effects… gone?” You ask, unsure of how to approach to topic. 

“Yes, thanks to you. I don’t know where I’d be without my feisty little kitten.” he teases, but there’s no bite to his tone - It’s filled with appreciation and truth. He smiles and as he does the tips of his scales begin to crumble to dust.

“You never cease to surprise me, Miss Hunter. I thought I walked this unforgiving road alone. You’ve proven me wrong, I’m sorry for doubting your trust in me.” He picks up your hand in his now considerably more human-sized palm and presses a kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll answer all your questions once we’re back at the base. But for now, let me tend to your body. Rest. Stop that wired train of thought in your pretty little head.”

“I don’t think -” you start in protest, but he pushes a no-longer taloned finger to your lips and hushes. “I’ll play kitty cards with you all night long if you wait until we get back.” He bribes, and you can’t find it in you to deny his offer. 

“Pinky promise?” You ask with a small voice, suddenly alerted to the feeling of Sylus’ monster cock shrinking within you and leaving you feeling empty even though he remains within.

“Pinky promise.” He replies, locking his finger around yours and sealing the deal with a spark of red evol energy swirling between you two. He notices your brief discomfort, holding you closer to him with a look nothing short of true love for you. “Thank you for this. You’ve given me a support that I don’t deserve.” He whispers into your ear. You tear your gaze from where your hands are intertwined and are met with human Sylus once again. 

“Don’t insult yourself like that. What we think we deserve and what others see in us are rarely the same—sometimes, we just have to accept the kindness offered.” You say in a stern voice. He looks at you with utter respect, eyes glowing like you’re his queen. “As you wish.” He hums, and it finally seems like everything you’ve said sinks in. “Now let’s get you cleaned up. As stunning as you are, I don’t think dried wanderer blood is a healthy fashion statement.” He lulls as he begins to unwrap his arms from you. 

“Rest, kitten.” Sylus smiles as he smudges dried blood away on your cheek.“Although we’ll need to find where our phones fell to. And new clothes.”

[pearlymel]

"The Masks We Wear"

Summary: as a journalist, you are itching to find the identity of this mysterious hero. But could it be that the hero is closer to you than you think?

Wc: 7.3k eat up

Warnings: Wriothesley x afab!reader, gn! reader, modern au, hero and villian au (one of each), reader is a journalist/cameraman, fluff, making out, crack (i laughed a lot writing this), angst (oops), one small sex scene, slightly under the influence, cursing, it's pretty unrealistic, petnames used: sunshine, love, and sweetheart.

Notes: i poured my heart and soul into this, i think it's my best piece so far ^^ give it a chance, maybe you'll love it. (Pleasepleasepleaseplease) Rbs are greatly appreciated!

Credits: banner art by the great @/danijaci

Click!

The city is absolutely beautiful today. No, no. It’s not because of the lights that makes the place brighter and a bit more magical, how it seems livelier with a group of teenagers laughing together while buying street foods together, or the old couple that seem still very much in love, the gentleman kneeling down and tying her shoes just to make sure she wouldn’t trip this time.

Humans can be cute, you think.

But of course, among those innocent ‘humans’ are those who desire destruction.

This time, you think you might have caught something in the shadows, and you stare intently at your camera, zooming it in to see the faintest color blending in with the darkness. Hair? A part of clothes? You don’t know, but you got it.

you have this obsession of finding out who the hero of this city was, or even the villian. Although, you would be technically be walking into death if you try finding out who the villian is.

Where did this hero come from? No one knows. Sure the crime rate has lowered, but it felt like the world became even more messed up.

It all started a couple of years ago when you were in your college days, one day almost dying from a falling building, and you thought you saw the scythe waiting to take your soul at that very moment but, no.

The mysterious hero of the city that you never thought you would never encounter carried the building with his super strength power, apparently.

He who has no name, took your hand and lead you into a safer area with the police.

cliché story, right. But that’s what got you into journalism and media now.

And let’s say… you’re too far into the deep black hole to back down now.

The almost blinding light made you come back to your senses, the sounds of engine roaring in the air as the bike approached you, and your shoulders were already slumped.

“How did you find me?” You raise your voice due to the loud engine running, covering parts of your vision from the light.

“Lucky guess.” Wriothesley replied gruffly, pulling his helmet off and shaking his head slightly to fix up his messy strands.

“Care to explain what on earth are you doing here in this shady alleyway? At nine thirty where the moon is out and wolves could be coming for you?” He starts scolding you, quirking an eyebrow when you give him the bored expression, and he immediately mimics it back.

“Taking pictures.”

“Of the rats?”

“Wriothesley.” You shoot him a look and he raises his hands in the air. “I understand your… obsession. But it could hurt you in the process, mentally and physically.”

You know he’s saying all this because he cares so much about you. Loves you too much that it would break his soul piece by piece if one day what you’re doing will hurt you.

“Hop in, sweetheart.” He hands you the extra helmet, and you take it with a sigh. Securing it around your head before taking your place behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he revved the engine.

The whole ride back was silent, yet traffic, which entirely ruined the whole mood. With the constant car horns ringing in your ear.

You tap at his thigh to grab his attention, “Why’s it traffic?” You grumble, rising yourself from the seat to look at the row of cars trying to get through.

“Not any holidays or events i can think of,” he responds back to you.

Red mixed with orange fills your vision, suddenly the car at the very front explodes. The car parts flying in the air and landing at the other vehicles which makes you frozen in shock.

Wriothesley’s clenches his hands tightly as he turns the bike around, speeding his way far away from the scene. “Hold onto me tight, and don’t look back, you hear?” He yells enough to grab your attention, and your arms tightens around him, but you have your head turned around to see the people yelling and dashing out of the vehicles. You want to capture the moment with your phone so you could submit it in for the news, but you know more than to ignore Wriothesley right now.

It’s not rare to see destruction happen in your city, it’s just… terrifying every time anybody witnesses it.

Maybe it wasn’t an accident, maybe it was planned.

“You’re not allowed to go out after seven.” Wriothesley makes it clear to you with his firm tone as you both step inside your shared apartment, locking the apartment with a click. He then tosses his keys into a bowl on a small table, before turning to look at you.

“Are you seriously setting a curfew for me? Please. what happened was not new—”

Your face is now being cradled by his rough hands, but the way he swipes a thumb under your eyebags really makes you melt. And you forget what you were going to say when his lips curl the slightest.

“I don't want anything happening to you. Ever.” He takes you in his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing he ever held. “I didn't mean to pressure you like that. I'd hate it if you were in the position of those injured people.”

You pat his back to reassure him that hopefully nothing like that will happen. “And, if, hypothetically, something like that happened; What would y—”

“I'll kill everyone.” he doesn't even let you continue before he answers, though the chuckle against your hair followed after makes your tense shoulders relax.

“maybe not to that extent,” he lifts your head up to lean in and press a tender kiss on your forehead.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“what is it?”

“… something or someone.”

Your boss gives you a nonchalant sharp look when you eagerly showed him the bits you managed to capture last night before you were interrupted by your great boyfriend.

His eyes squints at the more of a blurred photo that sits on the display of your camera, taking the glasses that hanged from his collar.

The sigh afterwards makes you feel discouraged when he hands you back your camera.

“i see it.” He starts and you perk up immediately.

“it looks like a blurred image of a fucking bird taking a shit on the electrical cords.” You press your lips into a thin line at his description. Too detailed of a description,

what a bastard.

It.. certainly didn't look like that.

You clear your throat, pinching the bridge of your nose to compose yourself.

“You're lucky i like your determination or you would've been fired,” he utters out in a lax tone, resting his glasses on his big bald head that you want to spill with ketchup.

“Keep looking, i need the hero's face, details, anything. Just think of the money you and i could both earn.” He seems too enthusiastic about it, showing you determination with his fists pressing together and his wide ear to ear smile.

You leave work early that day, starting your daily walk of looking around for at least two hours or—one hour?

No, Wriothesley would be too worried if you came back after… nine. Your words not his.

You need to rearrange a schedule in your head.

Step one: somehow convince your boss that you need to leave early everyday.

Step two: search every nook and cranny of the city, ask every shady person if they get to talk to the hero in person or got a glimpse of his name.

Step three: go to the dark web— is that car flying infront of you right now?!

Shit. Just why does everything have to go down wherever path you go?

The people around you panics, and you equally panic with them because you're no fucking hero to tell them to get away from that flying car.

You take your camera out hurriedly from its case that slung around your shoulder, pressing record while frantically looking around. The ground shakes, it shakes so much that it feels like an earthquake almost.

“it's him! The villian!” Someone shouts from the distance, and just like that the screams that follows are in sync.

You know why the ground shook, the street has become a battlefield for the hero and villain fighting together with all their strengths, the air is filled with tension as they both clash in an epic confrontation. The ground trembles beneath your feet again as they traded blows, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. The once tranquil street has now been transformed into a chaotic arena of power and destruction. As the battle rages on. The hero and villain continue their fight, each strike more powerful than the last, their movements a blur of speed and precision.

You try capturing anything with your camera, but your hand shakes that it was impossible. When the villian lands a powerful punch on the hero’s shoulder, sending him way back, it makes you think it's time to leave.

You run with the rest without stubbornness this time. You should've listened to Wriothesley, why did you always have to be so curious about everything?

This curiousity will kill you next after the cat.

“Taxi!” You shout, waving your hand at the yellow vehicle, but every taxi seems to ignore the people's pleas, determined to save themselves instead.

Guess it's time to burn calories and run back home.

You were a panting mess once you reached back to your comfort space, eyes zeroing at the running television in the living room. Watching the newscaster talk about today's battle and how it affected the shops and buildings.

It seems like the battle lasted twenty minutes before the villian gave up and fled away.

Your head snaps to the bathroom once you hear the sink water drip, you didn't even think if he would be here this early.

“Wriothesley,” you say breathlessly when you swing the door open, arms squeezing his side as you take a deep breath in.

“woah, easy there. What happened?” He takes you in, hand rubbing at your arm.

“i was…” nevermind. Maybe you shouldn't tell him what you have witnessed, he'll know once he checks the news.

You only realise that he was chest bared at the moment, and you furrow your eyebrows once you see a bruise on his shoulder.

“What happened?” It was your turn to ask, talking a gentle finger and running it over the bruise, earning a hiss from him.

“was changing the car oil at the repair shop.” He mumbles, gaze turning to the mirror, “then accidentally hit my shoulder once i got up.” he turns his arm, swinging it slowly.

“but you don't work at a car repair shop?”

“it's a side hustle, sunshine.”

“why didn't you tell me?” You press on, and he hangs his head low, both of his hands gripping the sink bowl.

Okay, maybe you have annoyed him a little too much now. Upon sensing your incoming apology, Wriothesley smiles at you.

“don't worry your pretty little head too much. The bruise will fade.”

“i can massage you later?” You offer, and he lets out a breathy chuckle. “You're the best.” He gives you a chaste kiss on your lips on his way out, which makes you feel a little fuzzy.

The evening gave way to the night sky, and you found yourself lying on the bed, replaying the video captured on your camera. The footage was far from perfect, shaky and lacking in clarity, but it still managed to capture fragments of the intense confrontation between the hero and the villain. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement as you watched the brief glimpses of the clash that had taken place earlier.

How the villian managed to blow a punch on the hero’s shoulder, sending him way back. Must've hurted.

It's almost like the same spot Wriothesley got his bruise on.

…

Wait, the same spot?  You sit up on the mattress, replaying the video on repeat of their fight.

The hero was about the same height as him, the same physique, same cake—

You shake your head, focus. Wriothesley can't be the hero, no that's impossible. He was a busy man, doing… side jobs and whatnot.

Sure he was kind, always helping everyone, even walking the neighbors dog because they got sick one day.

But then again… you never saw Wriothesley and the hero at the same time,

Or was it merely a coincidence, a random alignment of physical features?

“Sunshine?” You gasp when you snap your head up to find Wriothesley leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

“y-yes?” You set the camera aside on top of the drawer. He moves closer, seating himself on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixated on you then glancing at he camera.

“dinner's ready.”

You nod, silence fills the room after. You know he's waiting for you tell him more, on why you were so shocked.

“was looking at the hero's pictures.”

“not mine? I'm wounded.”

You roll your eyes, a slow smile creeping up your face, and he loves it. He takes it as an invitation to lean closer, suddenly pinning you down on the bed to capture your lips with his.

It's slow, and gentle. It makes you hum softly, taking his face in your hands to kiss him back, moving your lips together until you were gasping for air.

You forget you were even suspicious of him a second ago.

Your fingers lightly trace his jawline and you feel the pricks of his growing facial hair. A small smile plays on your lips as you inform him in a soft tone, "You need to shave." Wriothesley chuckles softly, the sound warm and low. He reaches up to your hand, gently taking hold of it and bringing it to his lips, pressing a kiss on your palm. "Is that why you stopped kissing me?" He says, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "No! I find you more.. attractive. Plus it.. yeah, it feels like little needles on my face.” you admit quietly.

Wriothesley presses his face into your neck, his lips tracing soft kisses along your skin. His hands begin roving your body, each touch sending a gentle shiver across your flesh. He whispers quietly next to your ear, his voice low and smooth as he responds, "I'll shave after dinner." The sensations of his lips against your neck and his hands exploring your body mix together, creating a heady combination that heightens your senses and ignites a slow fire within you.

“I'll.. help.” You whisper, bringing both of your arms to wrap them around his back. “What a sweetheart.” he uttered out, voice muffled from trying to mold into your skin.

Your mind stops working for a second when he presses his knee gently between your legs to pull them apart, “Wriothesley, what about dinner?” You frantically ask him, tugging his hair up so both of your gazes could meet. And the almost drunken expression he has on makes you let out a shaky breath.

“later,” he drawls, his fingers tracing lazily along your sides.

Hero? Pftt, what hero? This is just your wriothesley, it's quite impossible for him to be the hero.

You snap out of your daydream when your colleague hands you a cup of coffee, he raises an eyebrow at you and you smile back awkwardly.

A sip of the coffee to get a bit of energy, but only just a bit, since too much caffeine makes you nervous.

“You filmed the crazy battle yesterday?” Your colleague sneaks from behind you, watching the video replay again on your camera.

“they do movies about them now, insane huh?”

“well atleast the hero knows he's popular.” You reply bluntly, taking anothsr sip from your hot beverage.

“flash news, someone heard that his name starts with the letter ‘W’ or som—”

You spit out your coffee all over your white attire. You both exchange surprised looks, but you quickly wipe your mouth using the back of your hand.

“where exactly did you hear that?” You get straight to the point, gesturing them to sit next to you.

“from my father's friend’s cousin sister.”

His reply makes your eyes twitch, from who and who?

“Okay…” you whisper, turning around and thinking of the utter nonsense they spouted.

“you don't believe me.” he sighed, “I've been telling this to everyone in the building but no one is believing me! Just tryna’ do my job here.”

Let's say maybe you believe him. But the dots are connecting too fast that you want to refuse from believing it.

Was your target closer to you than you had expected?

“I'm clocking out, can you cover for me today?” You inform your colleague, and he crosses his arms while eyeing you up and down.

Your roll your eyes, “I'll be the cameraman for next week. So you could get three days off.” You force a smile and they smile back enthusiastically.

Wriothesley is definitely home. Earlier than the usual time he'd be back.

Oh, he's asleep on the couch. Leaning back tiredly with an almost stern expression on, but his body seems relaxed.

Now is the time to do anything. Investigate? Go through his things without his permission? That sounded all awful… surely he's not hiding any—

“go search his things.” You furrow your eyebrows when the devil on your left shoulder speaks, it makes you rub your face in annoyance.

Then a sudden white little angel poofs on your right shoulder with a disappointed face, “no, don't do it. He's a little scary when he gets mad. But he'd never betray you!” you feel reassured at it's words and you nod in agreement.

“don't listen to it. He could hurt you if you keep it a secret.” The red devil whispers again and it makes you shiver a bit.

“he would never hurt you.” The angel frowns.

“yes he would, he's a man.”

“a good man.”

“yeah? You're no better than me, you just want that—”

“okay shut up both of you. Shoo.” You brush both of your shoulders off before taking a deep breath to brace yourself.

You'll just search his.. clothes.

You feel guilty once you pocket his jackets and pants in his side of the wardrobe, checking every hidden pocket thoroughly while glancing at the door once in a while to make sure he doesn't wake up.

As your fingers brush against his jacket, you notice an unusual sensation – a cool, metal feeling hidden underneath the fabric. Your eyes widen in surprise as you recognize it to be the form of a gun's handle. A mixture of curiosity and concern floods through you, freezing you in place.

It really is a gun. You study it carefully, turning it around and feeling it's heaviness in your palm.

But you feel your heart run out of your ribcage when two pairs of arms wrap tightly around you, his chin resting on your shoulder.

Shit.

“hi,” he whispers next to your ear, but you're too nervous to even look back at him.

“nice thing you got there.” He muses, and you feel like you're losing oxygen once he tightens his grip around you even more.

“… i just found it.” You mutter, mostly to yourself. Your head hanging too low to avoid his eyes.

“Could've just asked me, no?” He clicks his tongue, almost in disappointment.

“i have it on me because—”

“because you use it for the good, right? Because you're the hero?” Your voice is shaky when you ask, the gun in your hand shaking with you, and you're afraid to drop it.

“hero?” Wriothesley repeats, shaking you gently awake and you gasp harshly, taking in big breaths, your boyfriend immediately trying to soothe you.

it was a dream.

“you were mumbling something about a hero in your sleep. Are you okay?” He asks in concern, brushing a strand off your face. You were sweating too much for your liking.

“when did i get here?” You look around, taking your palms to rub the sleepiness off. “Right when you got off work. You slept on the bed without changing your clothes.”

Oh… so you never checked his clothes. Deciding to just sleep instead.

Your head turns back to the wardrobe, staring at it intently. Could the jacket be in the same arrangement as you found it in your dream? Or will the gun also be there?

“you're going to poke a hole through it if you keep staring.” He stifles a laugh, and you couldn't help but try to smile as well. “Drink up. Slow sips.” He offers you a glass of water, and you hold the glass firmly in your hand.

“so… what was your dream about? Even this hero appears in your dreams? Can't say I'm not jealous.”

“You'll have grey hairs too early from overthinking.” You tease, sitting upright in bed, “oh no, you already do, old man.” you frown, tracing the grey strands along with his black hair. He watches in amusement.

Wriothesley lets out a deep sigh, “give your old man a break. They're a badge of wisdom and experience,” he rests his head on your lap, nuzzling close as you massage his scalp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Breaking news: the ‘’lola” flower shop sets on fire just three hours ago. Our dear hero saves the day yet again, protecting the old lady just in time before her shop explodes. The cause of the fire is still unknown…”

Destruction out of nowhere again. Accidents out of nowhere again.

The voice of the newscaster on the television fades away in this little diner you're in. You drive your attention away from it, instead focusing now on the Polaroid pictures laid out infront of you.

The hero always wore a mask to cover his identity, obviously. But even after watching the countless of interviews he had, the deep tone slightly matches Wriothesley’s voice, or maybe he's changing his tone on purpose. You can see it by zooming in on the video, how he's catching his breath everytime he speaks when he's just sitting down.

Asthma? Nah.

You tap your fingers impatiently on the table, this is not helping at all, and the slightest itch in your brain worsens as the time goes by.

You think about giving up on this, but the possibility of finding the answer on how or why did all of this happen is probably closer to you than you think.

“Bad guys never end with their schemes. Bunch of attention seekers.” The hero speaks on the television, and you hum curiously as the hero salutes the camera playfully before disappearing from the crowd.

Is it possible that there are multiple heros? Working all together in some basement and taking turns to go out and do a better job than the police?

Possibly, and you write down your new theories down on your little notepad.

You check your phone next, Wriothesley still hasn't answered you back from your most recent text to him.

It's nothing to worry about, but the thought that he's busy saving the city is gnawing at you.

Batman?

You shake your head again, gathering your things to stand up from your seat. You should be blunt asking him about it tonight.

It's cold. Colder than usual. Was the air conditioning on? No. But the windows are sure wide open. You look around the living room before closing the windows and curtains from the outside world, as you draw the curtains, the outside world becomes obscured, leaving the room in a soft semi-darkness.

“Wriothesley, honey?” You call out softly, peeking through the bathroom, not there. The bedroom? Nope.

That leaves the kitchen, you slowly peek your head in he kitchen, and sure enough, he was there.

Wriothesley was rubbing his face in exhaustion while mumbling words under his breath that you can't quite hear. Having one singular glass of some drink in his hand.

“hero this.. hero that..” you finally listen to his mumbles, which makes you furrow your eyebrows together.

"Wrio...?" You call out softly, flipping the switch to turn on the light. His sharp eyes immediately dart up to look at you, and you can't help but shiver under his intense stare. You let out a small gasp of surprise as he suddenly stands up, the glass in his hand slipping from his grip and shattering on the ground along with its contents.

Taken aback by his sudden movement, you instinctively take a step back as he approaches you. But before you can even register what's happening, he crashes his lips against yours in a hasty, rushed kiss. Caught off guard, you cling tightly to him, desperately seeking support to prevent yourself from toppling over.

“You love me,” Wriothesley's voice breaks through the heated kiss, his words coming out in a low, guttural groan. He grips the back of your thighs, hoisting you up against the wall and wrapping your legs around his waist. “right?” His voice holds a hint of vulnerability and desperation, as if seeking reassurance and affirmation of your feelings for him.

And when you don't answer him right away, he takes your lower lip between his teeth, nipping at it gently, “answer me.” He almost growls.

“love, what are you taking about? Are you drunk?” You ask breathlessly in concern, your lips feeling swollen.

His jaw clenches, “Why can't you say it?” he inhales your perfume, your scent filling him that it makes him groan, his mouth lavishing your neck and collarbone, leaving kisses and littering marks then soothing the area with his tongue that it makes your pant softly, pressing your face into his hair while your fingers weaving through his black-greyish strands.

“i love you,” you utter quietly, and it suddenly makes him start grinding his hardened length against you. “I'm sorry in advance, sweetheart.”

One minute you're confused about his words, and then the next he's pounding so hard into you like there was no tomorrow.

Strings of “don't leave me,” and “i love you’s,” are echoed in the air. Wriothesley's mouth moves against yours with a sense of urgency and haste, his tongue gliding and tangling with yours in a fervent dance. The bed creaks so loud underneath you that you think it might break anytime, the embarrassment of the headboard banging against the wall immediately gone once he hits your sweet spot rapidly.

Poor neighbors

"Wrio... Wriothesley?” you slowly flutter your eyes open, still in the hazy realm between sleep and wakefulness. The sunlight streams through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room, and you blink a few times as you take in your surroundings. A quiet sense of contentment washes over you as you remember the events of the night before, the memories of Wriothesley's body against yours and his lips on yours still fresh in your mind.

You prop yourself up using your elbows, only to look down at the sight of your sleeping lover with his head pressed up on your chest. You collapse back on the bed with a tired sigh.

You still couldn't understand the reasoning behind his.. desperate actions last night. He seemed so pent up and stressed, you'll forgive him this time.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• It's the day where you're covering for your colleague, being the cameraman for tonight's news. Yes, tonight.

Wriothesley would kill you if he knew you were working so late at night, but only because he cares about your safety. Good thing he's out of the city for a day.

Or he claims to be out of the city for some important work.

You press the button on your video camera, adjusting the lens to focus on the newscaster standing in front of the camera, holding the microphone with a serious expression. The news van is parked in front of a desolate, run-down neighborhood known for its high crime rate and dangerous reputation. The newscaster speaks into the camera, her eyes boring into the lens as she reports on the neighborhood.

“We are now standing in the heart of one of the most dangerous areas in the city. This neighborhood is notorious for its high crime rate and volatile atmosphere.”

Your senses are heightened at this rate and you really try to focus but the moment you hear the faint crunch of leaves, you lose composure just a bit.

Okay you're a bit scared, but as long as your workmates are he—

a group of armed gang members suddenly appear from the alleyways between the buildings, surrounding the news van and the camera crew. The newscaster, taken off guard, gasps and steps back.

The gang members brandish their weapons, circling the news crew menacingly. One of them shouts at the newscaster, waving his gun in the air. “Hold it right there, pretty lady. This is our turf! You ain’t gonna be broadcasting nothing about us!”

You're about to shit your pants for real this time.

“Drop your cameras and get outta here, or things are gonna get real ugly real fast,” he growls, and one of them points the gun right on your camera.

“I'm talkin’ to you too.”

Yeah, you're not going to fight anyone and act all big. You simply drop the camera on the ground to raise your hands in the air.

As the gang members close in on the news crew, the atmosphere is suddenly shattered by the sound of footsteps pounding against the pavement. Everyone turns to see a tall, muscular figure approaching from the distance.

It's the hero.

You watch in awe as the hero strides towards the group of armed gang members, his movements fluid and precise. With a swift swing of his fist, he lands a powerful punch on the leader's face, sending him stumbling backwards. The other gang members are taken aback by his sudden appearance and the display of force, their eyes widening in surprise and fear. They exchange nervous looks, realizing they're facing a much stronger opponent than they anticipated.

“Hey, let's go!” Your workmate calls for your name. Her hand waving at you so you could all retreat back to the van.

And before you could follow, the van explodes.

The sudden explosion catches you off guard, jolting you out of your stupor. Shouting in surprise, you recoil from the loud blast, ducking instinctively as debris and fragments fly through the air. Your colleague, sitting next to you in the van, lets out a terrified yell as the force of the explosion propels the driver backward. The van shudders and lurches from the impact, the windows shattering and various objects sent flying.

“in the building! Let's go!” All three of you dash to protect yourselves inside this tall company building.

“I will call the police,”

“but the hero is here!” the driver of the van speaks, almost yelling in frustration.

“the hero is also a human. Just a strong one. We can't rely on him—” but before you could continue, you all cover your ears once you hear gunshots come from outside.

Ohmygosh. It’s—it could possibly be Wriothesley who's getting hurt right now. What are even the chances?!

“Fine! Just call the fucking police!” The driver gives up, leaning back against the wall while breathing heavily.

You want to go out there. You want to see. It's your chance to see who the hero is if he got hurt. Just to get the crumbs of news in exchange for your life apparently.

When it grows quiet, you peek outside, “it's clear, I'll take a look—”

“No, you're not.” her hand is firm as she grips your wrist, “just let them go.” He, on the other hand, scowls.

“Be safe!” She shouts at you as you make a run for it, running down the alleyway while looking left and right.

Someone's in the area.

You dart behind the nearby dumpster, heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline courses through your veins. Hiding as best you can, you press yourself against the rough metal, trying to keep your breathing steady and quiet. Peeking out from behind the dumpster, you cautiously scan the surroundings, trying to catch a glimpse of someone nearby. For now, the area seems to be clear, but you can't shake the feeling that someone is in the vicinity, lurking in the shadows.

“Where ya at, lil’ birdie?” You cover your mouth when you hear someone speak, it sends a chill down your spine and you can feel your heart drumming in your ears.

Your sharp eyes turn to your side to find a metal rod, you don't hesitate to grab it before smacking the shit out of the guy.

No that did not happen, but you wish it did.

Instead, the minute you see his feet pass the dumpster, with a swift movement, you grab hold of both of his ankles, using your weight and leverage to pull them out from under him. He lets out a pained shriek as he suddenly loses his balance and topples to the ground, his body hitting the pavement with a thud.

Alright, you can be cool sometimes.

Stepping at his hands to hear him cry again, you run put of the place, making turns and finally spotting the hero sitting down against the building wall while panting, seemingly exhausted.

“…” you take slow steps once you approach him, looking down at him with your eyes already glistening.

This is it, you just have to confirm it.

Your hand pulls at his mask, “Wrio—”

Huh?

This…

Is not

Wriothesley.

“Ah, what the fuck?” He grunts, the blonde grabbing the mask from your hands and you take a step back.

“Elias?!” You yell out in confusion, it's your colleague that you're covering for supposedly today's shoot.

“You're the hero??”

“not a word. Scram, you freak.” he mutters, eyes diverting away from you and staring up at the roof. “The roof,” he whispers to himself, making the effort to stand back at his knees.

Is this bitch serious? He's the last person you expected to be the hero. With his stupidly arrogant and lax attitude.

You give him an almost death stare, studying his features again before making your way out.

You need to check the other people that were with you.

But when you arrive back at the building, they were gone.

Did the police arrive? You don't hear any sirens. Could they have possibly went up on one of the floors to hide?

You find yourself in the elevator next, watching as the doors close with your hands clasped infront of you nervously.

You take deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart and steady your nerves. Hey, at least there's nice elevator music.

As the elevator comes to a halt, the doors slide open with a soft ding, revealing the rooftop and the figure standing in the open space.

There's a figure standing at the edge of the building, you can see the person's silhouette clearly now, but you can't make out their features just yet.

Your steps are hesitant as you slowly approach the figure, the wind gently billowing around you. The city lights twinkle below, but your attention is entirely focused on the person standing at the edge of the roof. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever may come, and call out tentatively, "Hello?”

Your voice rings in the air, that the person's shoulders tense.

When they look around, you're met by the same blue eyes you've known for three years now.

“Wriothesley.” You whisper, in shock, breathlessly under your breath.

He's holding.. a gun? The same gun you remember seeing in your dream.

Something in his mind snaps when you turn around, in fear. Like it was a mistake to ever see him in the first place.

Wriothesley doesn’t even give himself time to think before his body suddenly reacts, suddenly reaching out and circling his hand around your wrist to forcibly tug you back.

He yanks hard enough that you lose your balance and fall against him, his other arm coming up to wrap around your shoulders, preventing you from going anywhere.

“W-wrio—”

“think it's time we talk, sunshine.” He speak into your ear.

When you try to move the slightest from his hold, he grips you around him tighter. You figure it's best to stay still for now.

“what? Are you going to kidnap me now?” You manage to chuckle out, nervously though, your voice coming out more shaky than you intended to.

“Is that going to satisfy your little fantasy? What, I should play into it and shove you into a corner, keep you under my thumb until you’re begging me to set you free? Or no… you want to be saved by the hero.”

"You know you're not helping with your case, right? You really sound like the bad guy now.”

You’ve definitely found his breaking point because that comment makes him snap.

Wriothesley suddenly whirls you around so you’re facing him before he’s pinning you against the nearest wall, his body practically covering your own.

“Well…” He whisper, raising an eyebrow calmly in the way you look being at his mercy. “Aren’t I?”

Your jaw practically hangs at his words. Is he... Playing the bad guy now?

Or was he really… not the opposite of the hero?

He sees the shiver you try so hard to suppress and smirks at that, clearly satisfied with your reaction, “What’s wrong, sunshine? Finally realize that the man you’ve been dating isn’t the hero you've obsessing over?” He chuckles.

“i… i knew it—”

“You didn’t,” he says, his tone suddenly becoming cool and firm.

Wriothesley leans forward, pressing into you so that you’re smashed between him and the wall. His hand suddenly comes up, cupping your jaw so that he tilts your chin up to look directly into his eyes.

“If you’d known, you’d never have come within twenty feet of me. You’d never have been alone with me or spent a single night in our bed.”

He's right. And you hate it. You feel betrayed, lied to, even.

It makes you rethink your life choices.

You've gotten too comfortable with him that you didn't even think about him being the villian. You've gotten too close while you were being a complete idiot.

“you hid it.”

Wriothesley laughs, the sound almost sounding cold, “of course I hid it, sunshine. I wasn’t going to just come strutting in wearing a big, red sign saying ‘look at me, I’m a bad guy!’ was I?”

You clench your fists together, “you tricked me.”

“Tricked? No.” He shakes his head slightly. “I simply… left out key details.”

“Why?”

“ah, there it is.” He steps back, giving you space to breath, to recollect your thoughts.

“why? Because the hero isn't a hero. He started all of this destruction. Why? To get fame, recognition, power, and to be seen, to look like he's doing something when he's not.” He lets out all in one breath, and you lips part again.

“four years ago when the building almost fell on you? He did that, on purpose. then saved you to make it look like he's the one that everyone needs.”

What the hell?

“Wriothesley, we were strangers to each other four years ago. How did you know?” You don't hesitate to step closer to get more answers out of him, but he only stares at you.

You swallow thickly when he draws infront of you once again, “i did this all for you, love. I-i will do everything in my power to stop him, i will kill him so you wouldn't get hurt—”

“Okay, fucker. Out of my way,” Elias, the ’hero’, suddenly barks, and without warning, a gunshot rings out. The bullet pierces through Wriothesley's shoulder, causing him to flinch and stagger backwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as you watch the scene unfold. "Wriothesley!" you cry out, watching as he turns around despite the injury and charges towards Elias.

Despite the pain he must be in, Wriothesley doesn't relent. Ignoring the gunshot wound, he barrels towards Elias with unmatched determination, closing the distance between them.

"Bastard," Wriothesley manages to grit out as he collides with Elias, knocking him off his feet and sending them both crashing to the ground.

You don't hesitate to rush forward, with adrenaline fueling your actions, you move quickly towards them as they roll dangerously close to the edge of the roof.

"Stop!" you shout, your voice filled with desperation. "You'll fall!”

And surely enough, Your two hand clamps down on Wriothesley's, desperately grasping onto anything you can to prevent him from plunging off the edge.

Meanwhile, Elias grips Wriothesley's leg, using his strength to anchor him in place. The three of you hang there, suspended over the city, Wriothesley's body along with Elias’s dangling in the air.

“Sweetheart—”

“shut the fuck up I'm not letting go.” They're both too heavy, the feel of his fingers slipping away from yours increases everytime you try to pull them up.

Elias is purposely pulling Wriothesley's leg down to drop them both, your lips quiver, crying when two of his fingers slip now.

“hey,” his voice is soothing when he calls for you.

“at least… i protected you till the very end, right?” He tries smiling but it only makes the lump in your throat grow.

“i love you.”

“Wriothesley!”

…

“Wriothesley—!” You gasp harshly when you open your eyes so wide, finding that your hand was already reaching out for nothing.

You rest your hand on your chest before leaning back on your seat.

“are you okay?” The newscaster, the friend you made, offers you her handkerchief so you could swipe the sweat off your face.

“i think… continuesly searching about this, is making you stressed.” She points out, looking at the papers and drawings splayed out on your desk.

More theories of the disappearances of the hero and villian. Not their death. Their bodies were never found.

“it's been a year.”

The realization is like a punch to the gut as you bring a sweaty palm to rub at your temples.

“This is not over.” You whisper, more to yourself than to her. “We got no more trouble. No more heroic or bad guy news. The world is back to normal, almost like they never existed huh?”

Never existed.

She then suddenly gasps, which catches you off gaurd, “are engaged??” She eyes at the gem resting on your left ring finger.

The ring you found in one of his jacket pockets when you sorted his things out.

“yeah…” you decide to drawl out before sitting upright on your seat.

“now, if you'll excuse me, i got work to do.”

You're never going to stop searching, to find another answer of the question; 'why?'

Even if it will mean risking your life this time.