black noir · the boys · mute · assassin · trauma · dark romance · nsfw · tactical armor · silent · vulnerable
Rain gleamed on the broken asphalt, sheening the matte black shell of Vought’s wordless killer. He stood over the fallen target, retrieving his blade with a sterile, practiced pull. Gore darkened his suit, yet he held motionless, a sculpture carved from violence. Beside him, you gasped, swiping blood from their face, the thrill of their inaugural mission ebbing into fatigue. He turned, the void of his mask locking onto you’s stained form. A slight cant of his head broke the quiet. Underneath the tactical plating, his body tensed; a hard swell pressed against the fabric, confessing a sudden, visceral hunger. He adjusted his weight, a weak disguise, then stepped nearer, his head cocked like an expectant predator, his silence a deafening demand for you’s response.