Sylus isn’t sure what he’s looking at.

You’ve ripped at your own skin— been ripping, as your face is some parts scar other parts flesh. There’s something hard that’s left behind, in the places you couldn’t reach. It sinks under your jaw, crawls past your collarbone and clings to your chest.

Your hair is matted down thickly, blood darkening the strands together but bright where it still gushes. From a sort of bone that sticks out of you. Straight from the skull, cracked grossly, leaving the jagged pieces behind.

You try to scratch, wailing loudly as you push against his evol. Sylus had thought it was just the filth of your injuries, but your hands are unrecognisable. They’re growing clawed, hardening with scale and bone. He can’t use his evol to force them any more open, so blood drips from where your nails have begun digging into your palms.

Something nauseous brews inside him. The sight of you feels familiar. Sylus can see it in your eyes, that your cries don’t come from the pain of your mangled body, but by the fear of what grows beneath it. He suddenly feels small. And lonely. Like a child again, learning about his beastly nature for the first time.

There’s a moment where he thinks to kill you. A flash of his own claws tearing through your chest. To put you both out your miseries. For his sake more than yours.

But he hears the scuffle of Luke and Kieran, still fighting off some strangers in the background and guilt fills his mouth.

He can’t kill you. Not when you look like this. He wants to be selfish. He wants to leave your body to die and decompose. But you’re scared, and he has learnt unfortunate kindness— he betrays himself if he leaves you here.

Sylus brings a scowl back onto his face, but his hands are gentle when they pry yours open. He keeps his tone steady. Your body shakes within his hold.

“Get up.” He puts responsibility in the scent he normally keeps hidden to soothe you, refusing to let his face falter, uncomfortable as it is to keep his voice soft. “You’re coming with me.”

Yippee!! Evil creature reluctantly taking in broken thing, save meeee!!!! Saveeee meeee!! Defo will be returning to this au sometime… I gotta be there so bad…

Also real talk, does this even make sense?!??? It’s cut out from a longer scene so idk if there’s enough context to portray what’s happening at all… pleek lmk…

As you run, you hear an order for Luke and Kieran to stay put. Irritating as you could be, you’d softened a part of them. With a gentle pity, the twins had come to enjoy your company. You didn’t deserve to take comfort in it now.

There’s blood in your mouth when you reach the room assigned to you. If it had ever felt like yours, it definitely didn’t anymore. Sylus’s strike had pushed your lips into your teeth and forced you to remember your place, to remember him.

He took you without asking, he took you like a thing. Sylus was a sick, perverted bastard for stalking you across the streets, prying you off yourself and snatching you up without question. He was horrible for bringing you here, and even crueler for forcing his wretched evol to keep your nature to himself. Like he wouldn’t make fun of you when your scales came out anyways. You try so hard to keep them in! You really do! He even mocks you for your teeth when they push through! He’s mean. A bully. Sylus is a bully! Sylus is sick. Sylus is sick! Sylus is a beast!

You’ve trashed half the room by the time you’ve finished your tantrum. You can’t even taste the blood in your mouth anymore, your curses replacing it with gross, fizzing spittle. There’s an ache in your hands from where your claws have crawled out and another dull throb in your head from the horns beginning to emerge. And all that terrible wailing you’ve been doing has only made everything so much worse.

You hate Sylus but you think you hate yourself a little more. You shouldn’t have said it. You just wanted to upset him.

“Are you done.” His voice startles you. He had either concealed his presence or you’d been so worked up, you hadn’t felt him approach. You’re embarrassed he catches you off guard.

You grapple with the thought of snapping back at him for a second but cave almost immediately. You’ve exhausted yourself and you know he can tell. There’s no fight in you left.

Nodding solemnly you wait for him to saunter over. Your eyes remain fixated on the shadow nearing closer with each click of his heels.

Finally encased in the shade of him, you tilt your head up, not quite meeting his gaze but enough that you’re sure he can see yours.

His nails dig into your cheeks before you can expect it. The pull of his hold does more than just twist your face to look up at him; you have to fumble with your legs to accommodate the height it takes you to.

“You never speak of her like that again.” You can’t nod in his grip. He wants you to say it. “Is that understood?”

Voice hoarse from all the screaming, you let out a scratchy yes—which Sylus seems to accept. He gives your face one last squeeze, gentler but still between bitterness, before letting up and stepping back. You’re reminded quickly how far off the floor he’d pulled you because you drop back instantly, almost tumbling with the fall.

“Little dragon…” Sylus starts, red eyes scanning the room as he speaks. “You’ll be cleaning all this up.” Then you hear the edge of that familiar smirk in his voice. “Or don’t. It’s your room after all.”

He pushes past, albeit gentler than the times you’ve felt him body check you before. He grumbles something, uncharacteristically quiet.

“What?” He’s at his door now, and though you’ve already trespassed far into his front garden, it feels a bit invasive to peer into his home. “I just never expected you to be interested in that stuff.”

Dynamight’s keys jingle in the silence where he doesn’t answer, his door opens and as always you look away. He stands too still for a second too long, then sighs, turning to invite you in.

You tilt your head, eyeing him warily. He doesn’t let you ruminate or even ask, his hand on yours, tugging you in himself.

You’ve only ever been in the doorway, so following him past the foyer, taking your shoes off like you’re about to get comfortable, feels strange and unnerving.

Dynamight slumps onto his couch, head tilted back and eyes scrunched closed. You stand there awkwardly, suddenly aware of how different his life is to yours.

His house is nice. Decorated like a magazine, tidier than you’d expect from a bachelor. His tv looks expensive and even the open kitchen you can see in your peripheral, is stocked top to bottom in gadgets you know cost more than anything you own.

“Stop gawking.” Dynamight’s voice, for the first time, startles you. “‘M not offering you tea.”

“I wasn’t— shut up!” You like bothering him, but this time you become defensive. “Why am I here?”

“Yeah?” Dynamight snorts, an eye winking open to look you over. “Why are you?”

It must be something psychological, to have you in his space for once. You like to spook him when he’s on missions, at stores you could only steal from, and even at the cafe by his agency he likes to frequent. But this is his home. His living room. This isn’t the no man’s land of public space. Where it’s easy for you to dominate, since he’s got a reputation (barely) and all sorts of hero rules to follow.

You straighten your back, pulling a usb out your pocket and throwing it at him, without force but in the direction of his head. “You wanted intel.”

“And you couldn’t have waited till the morning?” He scoffs, catching the thing before it hits his face. “Gone to the agency?”

“Unless you grant me full immunity.” You shrug, knowing he won’t.

“Fat chance.” Dynamight inspects the usb. “This not gonna brick up my entire computer?”

“I don’t know.” He looks at you like you’re stupid. “I just took it.”

Dynamight frowns, then pulls out a case from under his coffee table. You’re still standing there uncomfortably, so he rolls his eyes and prompts you to get close. You don’t like following his order, and you can tell he isn’t used to it either. Normally you’re the one openly pushing past his personal space, listening to nothing he says. You lean on the back of his sofa, peering over his shoulder.

The case opens to a laptop, one that uses his fingerprint to unlock. You watch curiously as he taps away at something you don’t understand, before pushing the usb in and lighting up the screen in new colours.

Dynamight becomes quiet, focussed as he sifts through files and documents you still don’t get. You had wanted to continue on your prodding and ask why he looked like such a misery tonight, but his intensity makes it difficult to interrupt.

“Fucking hell.” Dynamight sounds almost in awe. “Where the hell did you get this.”

“I just took it.” You’re petulant. “I said.”

“[Name].” The hero’s body turns, and he stares with new authority. “Don’t piss me off.”

You feel small. Even with you standing over him, even with him in his casual wear, you’re reminded he’s a hero. One that lets you get away with a lot, but still a man of power you could never fight.

“Who rejected you?” You’re brattish. “You didn’t say.”

The non sequitur pisses him off, but he doesn’t want to have you running. “It wasn’t— Deku. I asked him to join my agency.”

That somehow makes you feel better. And equal. Like you’ve both just had terrible days.

“I saw him once. A friend, from when I was little, goes to UA.” You almost distract Dynamight with your reminiscing, but he catches it, frowning and prompting you to answer his original question.

“That guy you were tailing.” You remember a few months ago, recognising Dynamight in stealth gear, in a place where you hadn’t expected him to be. “The one with the red hair.” The descriptor makes something click in Dynamight’s head. His eyes go wide and wider with your next words. “He left a window open.” You shrug. “I snuck in.”

“Alone?” Dynamight wipes his head with his hands, frustrated. You think you’ve done something wrong. “Do you have any idea how—”

“I can take it back!” Interrupting him, you reach out to snatch the usb. You feel scolded and it stings.

He grabs your wrist before you can, you look at him with such sourness and he sighs. “Just… don’t do it again. Leave the hero work to me.”

You’re still pouting, embarrassed.

“You did good. Okay?” His hands give yours a squeeze. “You did really fucking good.” A part of you wants that, his approval, but you pull away anyways.

“I have to go.” You’re already walking backwards to his corridor. He follows you though he knows can’t keep you any longer, he’s never been able to pin you down.

You shove your shoes on haphazardly, not caring about getting it on all the way. He has to unlock the door for you, but before he does he pulls his wallet out.

“How much?” There’s a few large notes in his hand. It’s jarring that he can walk around with so much cash in his pockets.

“Wait.” You stop him with your hands, shaking your head. “Can’t— not tonight— can’t have that much on me.”

Dynamight gives you a look, there’s pity in his eyes. He hesitates letting you go, shoving a 2000 yen note into your hands. “At least.”

The winter air hits you both when the door finally opens. It’s the kind that makes your muscles ache. You step out quickly, already making your way to the fence you hopped over to bother him in the first place.

Before you can lift yourself up, Bakugou calls out, voice uncomfortably gentle. “You got a place to sleep?”

“…No.”

Cut out of a second, there’s a moment where you think he’s wants to say something. But he doesn’t. Instead he just nods, letting you jump over his gate and run off, back into the night.

Because in my head there’s an already established dynamic, I can’t tell if this whole thing only makes sense to me since I don’t need it to be expressed in the details… I did try to add contextualising details but idkkkk eughhhh

They inch lower, the feeling of a smile trying to sneak it’s way under your nightie. He’ll rip it off if you aren’t careful. Without opening your eyes you let your hands sink into the softness of his hair.

“Xav’…” Your voice still laced with sleep, seems to rile him up further. “You have to get up…”

Xavier hums, barely listening, just a small noise to grace you with a response. His fingers linger where the strap now feels awfully heavy on your skin. You shouldn’t let him take it off. You shouldn’t…

“Xavier please.” You keep your eyes shut, knowing he’ll be looking right up at you. And with the way his body slinks down, head resting by your waist, you don’t think you could resist the sight. “You have a kingdom to run.”

“And a wife to please?” He says impishly, already at your thighs, manoeuvring you however he pleases.

You roll your eyes as they open, still refusing to look his way. Instead you draw your leg back, in preparation to playfully nudge him. But he catches you, pulling you by the ankle so suddenly you let out a half-laugh, half-yelp as your head falls to the mattress.

“This has nothing to do with me!” You try to sound stern, but the giggle in your voice gives you away. “You’re just insatiable!”

Xavier ignores your reprimand, kissing your ankle sweetly, trailing back up to rest his hand between your thighs. He doesn’t take it any further, yet. You know he wants to hear it.

You finally look his way. His eyes are wide and glossy, sprinkled with a desperate yearning. You’d think he hadn’t had his fill the night before. You yield, unable to resist the shine in his starry gaze. He can be so spoiled sometimes. Truly a prince.

Your fingers rest in the fluffy mess of white, almost pink in the early morning light, and curl where his hair brushes against the blush of his ears. Xavier nuzzles into your touch impatiently, reminding you of what he wants. He’s got that terrible look on his face, an innocence in his urgency that almost makes you feel bad.

“Such a puppy.” You furrow your brows, an attempt at looking indignant, but surrender with a sigh. “Go ahead.”

Xavier grins, boyishly smug, lifting your gown to get right under it. You’re not left to wonder what he’s up to as he kisses your tummy before hooking his fingers into the sides of your underwear.

He doesn’t pull them off, kissing the insides of your thighs, seemingly content with the makeshift handles. It’s the only thing separating him from your most intimate area. You suppress a whine, feeling his warm breath muffled through the material.

He enjoys it. The teasing. Proof in his annoyingly attractive ability to shift into innocent and become as patient as he pleases, all while you writhe under him.

The feeling of a wet tongue makes you groan back into your pillow. It’s a kitten lick, but the cooling sensation against your heated skin is something at least. Xavier continues his trail, getting closer and closer to your core, before pulling back to nip at your thighs. Your pout is evident and he chuckles, amused at how easy it is to turn the tables on you.

He’s being unfair. Though you certainly recall the night before in the comfortable ache between your legs, how can you be expected to resist the touch of your husband— your prince.

Still, he isn’t cruel, finally tugging at the dampening cloth. He’s slow, watching the string of lust stretch from the fabric leaving your flesh. He groans as the liquid snaps and lands back into your underwear, soaking it through. Xavier can’t wait to pocket the thing once it’s off you.

But it doesn’t get off you. It barely gets past the knee.

“Prince Xavier. The king requests your presence.”

Through the door comes a knock and a voice. The two of you stay quiet, as if the silence would send the servant away. But another knock you know he has to be up.

Xavier gives you a sympathetic look before standing, fingers lingering on your skin. You shiver when they leave you, and Xavier brings the blanket to cover your body. It’s not the same as his warmth, but you take comfort in the mingling of your scents.

He walks over to the door, tightening his loosened robes. It’s flimsy, and the tangle of his hair paints an embarrassing picture. However, frustrated by the interruption, Xavier can’t find it in him to care.

The prince and the servant talk for a few minutes, in a low murmur where the words evade your ears. When the servant leaves and the door is closed, Xavier approaches the bed slowly, as if to savour the sight of you.

You feel his gentle touch one last time, when he cups your cheeks to bring you in for a kiss. It’s unlike the chaste pecks he uses to say good morning, or the salacious ones to keep you in bed. There’s an apology in this kiss.

“I’m sorry, my love.” Xavier whispers, connecting your forehead to his. “I have to go.”

“It’s okay, my prince.” You don’t let him ruminate, turning your head to kiss his palm. “You have a kingdom to run after all.”

My truth is this is is recycled from a drabble I had with prince Shouto from like two years ago that I just edited and fleshed out a lil more. Initially it’s knight Bakugou who interrupts the happy couples morning lol. I changed a lot of course but Shouto and Xavier are soooo similar in my head…

Also tee hee the “such a puppy” line is a lil Easter egg 😼